DISCLAIMER

LWD belongs to Canadian Television and Supernatural belongs to the CW. I only own the plot and characters you don't recognize. And I apologize for not making this clearer before, but the funhouse is actually a structure that was built inside one of the hallways.

"Okay, so now that we know it's the clowns, how do you wanna kill 'em?" Sam wondered.

"How 'bout salt and torch?" Casey suggested.

"Are they even spirits?" Dean queried. Suddenly, electricity crackled in the clown's eyes.

"Dude, what spirit can do that?" Casey pointed out. They watched as several other clowns did the same thing and began to move.

"New plan. Spread out, find the source of their power, don't get killed," Dean proclaimed. Immediately, they separated. Casey's eyes darted left and right. What could be animating the clowns? As far as she knew, the school had created the attraction themselves. If that's the case, their power source would be somewhere in here, Casey realized. Her mind went back to when they had set up the funhouse. There had been the poles that held up the place of course. Then her eyes widened with recollection. One of the poles had been considerably lighter than the others and had been a different shade. That had to what was fueling the clowns. She turned on her phone, waited for it to boot up, and then dialed a number.

"Yeah? What?" Dean asked.

"I think I know what's fueling these things. It's one of the poles holding up the funhouse. I'm headed over there now," Casey reported.

"You be careful," Dean instructed.

"Always am," Casey responded. She continued on her way. Suddenly, something knocked her to the ground. Dean frowned when he heard a small noise over his phone.

"Case? Casey, what's goin' on?" he questioned. His frown deepened when his only answer was a small grunt and a sound of a scuffle. Making a decision, Dean quickly pressed the speed dial. Meanwhile, Sam was looking around his own section of the school. Figures I'd get stuck with the weapons bag, he thought grumpily. How come he always had to carry the dang thing? His reverie was broken when he heard his cell phone.

"Yeah?" he asked, pressing the 'talk' button.

"J.H.'s in trouble," Dean reported.

"Where is she?" Sam asked, his stomach clenching with dread. They never should've split up. Especially since they weren't all that sure what they were dealing with.

"J.H. said that she thought one of the funhouse poles was the source of the clowns' power," Dean answered. Sam's brow furrowed in concentration.

"Dean, I think I know what she's talking about," he said after a moment.

"Me too. I'll meet you there," his brother responded. Without answering, Sam hung up and then changed direction. Casey struggled against the clown that had tackled her. There was no way she was gonna let some freak spirit kill her. She was too good of a hunter to let it happen. A knife appeared in the thing's hand. She put up an arm to block the incoming attack and screamed when she felt the blade pierce her skin.

"Casey!" she heard Dean yell.

"Over here!" she hollered. Using a burst of strength, she managed to shove the clown away. She rose to her feet and grabbed a knife from the back of her jeans.

"Bring it on, you freaks," she snarled. The clowns just gave her their eerie smiles. Her eyes darkened and she waited as they lumbered near. The first clown swiped at her with his knife, only to have it blocked. The blades crashed together. It jabbed and again, the two metals connected. Come on, guys. Where are you? Casey wondered. Yes, she could hold her own, but she was somewhat outnumbered. From out of nowhere, she felt something strike her leg just above her heel. With a cry, she fell to the ground. Hearing their cousin's cry, Sam and Dean quickened their pace. When they got to Casey's location, they were horrified to see the creatures on top of her.

"HEY!" As soon as the clown looked up, Dean pulled the trigger on his gun. There was a snarl as the bullet hit its target. For good measure, Sam fired his own gun. Then, the creature fell to the ground and disappeared.

"Rock salt works," Dean announced needlessly. He and Sam continued firing, giving Casey ample time to escape. Once she was clear, their barrage of bullets stopped.

"Casey, you're hurt," Sam noted.

"We'll take care of that later. Those officers probably heard the shots. We're gonna have to work fast now," Casey dismissed.

"I'll keep 'em busy. You guys go destroy the pole," Dean instructed.

"Right," Sam and Casey agreed. Then, they went on their way, Sam hefting the weapons bag on his shoulder. When Sam and Casey got to the structure, they stopped.

"You see that one?" she asked, pointing to a pole that was a lighter shade of brown.

"Yeah," he answered.

"You got an axe in there?" she questioned, gesturing towards the bag.

"Actually, yeah. I think I do," he replied. They began looking through it. Meanwhile, Dean was attempting to keep the police from entering the building.

"Look, guys, we've got it all under control," he told them with a disarming smile.

"How do you explain the gunshots?" the officer demanded.

"My consultant tripped. He's still gettin' used to carryin'," the other man lied.

"All the more reason for us to go in," the officer replied, beginning to pass.

"What? And hurt their feelings?" Dean asked, quickly moving in front of him.

"I don't give a dang about their feelings, merely their lives," the officer responded.

"Just give 'em a few more minutes," Dean encouraged. Back inside, Casey was hacking at the pole while Sam kept the clowns at bay.

"You think you could hurry it up? You know how I feel about clowns," the older man reminded her.

"Sam! I'm losing blood and I have an axe in my hand! Do you really want to mess with me?" Casey questioned sharply. A few seconds later, the pole began to fall.

"TIMBER!" Casey warned. At the caution, both jumped out of the way. When it landed on the ground, she continued the pole's destruction until it was completely shredded. Only then did the clowns disappear. Sam blew out a sigh of relief as Dean and two other officers ran in.

"What happened?" an officer questioned. Sam just looked at the man wearily.

"I hate clowns," was his only answer.