07.Fear IT ― 14.07 (Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie)

"Wait a minute," Dean's voice echoed through the phone receiver and Sam could clearly hear the strain it was taking him to keep the humour out of his tone. "This isn't about your clown thing, is it?"

Sam stood in the middle of their motel room dressed in his FBI getup and edgily preventing himself from pacing up and down the length of the suite as he spoke over the phone. He was recalling vividly the first time he'd been afraid of a clown and he was certainly more than a little spooked that he was now having to face the prospect of deliberately going into a place that was nearly comprised solely of clowns.

"What?!" He answered a little too quickly, his voice shooting from rumbling bass to twittering soprano in a matter of seconds, cluing Dean that he'd hit the nail right on. "No…" He tried to even out his voice, make it less obvious that his big brother had him all figured out. Dean was far too good at reading him but, after the amount of stunts he'd pulled as a child, trying to wriggle his way out of trouble, it didn't surprise him in the slightest.

"Sammy…" Sam could immediately tell from the tone of Dean's voice that he was both unconvinced and lightly amused.

Ah, God damn it! Now Dean was calling him Sammy! Sammy, for crying out loud, was a chubby twelve-year-old and it was Sammy that he'd dumped in those terrible children's play-places. His fear of clowns was really all Dean's fault anyway! It was Dean who'd stuck him in those places and gone off with his friends-at-the-time looking for chicks. Sam was the one who'd suffered the consequences and he wasn't even quite sure why he was trying to hide this from Dean. The ass-hole should know it was all his fault that he was afraid of clowns! Of course, he couldn't blame Dean entirely. Had John done less hunting and been more of a father, he never would've endured such traumatic things. However, his thoughts made him feel slightly guilty―John had tried his hardest to be there for them.

"No!" He continued to try and convince. Sam heard Dean chuckle softly through the phone and he flinched at the sound.

"What in the world did they do to you?" Dean asked before continuing so Sam wouldn't interject. "You know what, never mind. Just know that ninety-nine-point-nine percent of all clowns can't hurt you."

When Sam didn't immediately reply, Dean prompted him. "Okay?"

Forgetting that Dean couldn't see him on the other end of the phone, Sam nodded wildly, desperately clinging to his big brother's words. Dean was completely unaware of the horrors he'd been through at the hands of clowns and Dean obviously wasn't aware that the percentage of non-lethal clowns wasn't that high.

"―and if it bleeds," continued Dean seriously, "you can kill it."