(Author's Note: Hi guys! I'm alive! I promise I am, see? I'm not a ghost! I just work 14 hour shifts at an amusement park. So I know it's been a long time, since Christmas, and I wanna apologize for my absence. A lot of things have happened since last update, including me turning 18 (December 26th to be exact...heh...). I may not acknowledge the sudden age change, but in the next chapter, Emily will be officially 18 years old. Would you like a short chapter about her birthday? Or nah? You can let me know, but for now, thus begins what I call, the "Season of the Dads"!)
Three Days Later
With the moon overseeing their actions, the trio stood in front of a funeral altar with flames rising into the sky. Emily stood in the middle with her brothers beside her. Dean hadn't said a word to her since they saw John, dead, in the hospital. She was scared he had realized that she knew of John's intentions the whole time, and that he was mad at her for it. On the other hand, she thought, he was just reacting like she had when she saw her own father die. Either way, she was concerned for Dean's welfare. Sam was reacting more openly, showing his tears and talking about it…as much as he could. Watching John's body burn made her realize that they allowed her there to watch. They, all together, were a family, watching their father be burned. All three of them had been silent for the entire ordeal, but Sam finally spoke.
"Dean…before he…" he swallowed, "Before, did he say anything to you? About anything?"
Emily looked at Dean with Sam, waiting for an answer.
It took him a moment, he didn't look at either of them. "No. Nothing."
Staring into the fire, she didn't have any clear emotion, because even after all the work of trying to love him, she still felt that he was never her true father.
Bobby's Auto Lot, One Week Later
It was hot and somewhat exhausting to be alive. Emily was outside with a plate of sandwiches and overseeing Dean fix the Impala, munching on a tuna with lettuce sandwich. Only his legs were sticking out and car parts could be heard clanking and clunking.
"I made some sandwiches, Dean. I figured with all the work, you'd be hungry." she shrugged.
"Will I get food poisoning?" Dean grunted from under the car.
"OKAY I burn some scrambled eggs ONE TIME and you gotta hound my ass for the rest of my life." she kicked the ground while placing her emphasis.
"Thanks but no thanks, Junior Mint. But you can save one for me when I'm done here."
As she sighed, Sam walked onto the lot with a neutral expression on his face, but once he saw a ham and cheese, he smiled and snagged it off the plate.
"How's the car coming along?" Sam asked, biting into the sandwich.
"Slow." Dean answered.
"You need any help?"
After a loud clunk, Dean answered. "You under a hood? I'll pass."
"Well, you need anything else?" Sam continued to eat.
Emily knew Sam had brewed up something when Dean pushed himself out from under the car. She continued to eat while Dean stood up.
"Stop it, Sam."
"Stop what?" Sam swallowed his food.
"Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm fine, I promise." Dean looked like he was trying not to get agitated.
"Well okay, but Dean… We've been at Bobby's for a week and you've never brought up dad once." Sam was now done with his sandwich.
"You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance." Dean said sarcastically.
"Don't patronize me Dean. Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, the demon is most likely behind all of this, and you're acting as if nothing happened!" Sam protested.
Emily wanted to put a word in edgewise, but she decided against it. It may have been her family, but it wasn't her place. Not this time.
"What do you want me to say?" Dean argued back.
"Just say something, alright? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? All you do is sit under this car all damned day!" Sam began shouting.
"Revenge, huh?" Dean smirked.
"Yea."
"Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it - oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car."
"Sam, he has a point." Emily finally spoke.
"I suppose he would if I hadn't found something." Sam remarked, pulling out a cell phone. "It's what I came out here to tell you. It's one of dad's." he smiled. "I cracked the voicemail code. Listen to this." he put the phone on speaker.
"Hey John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn;you know I can help you. Call me."
"That message is four months old." Sam said.
"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean asked.
"Who's Ellen?" Emily asked.
"No idea, but I traced the number and found an address." Sam gave them a thumbs up.
"Ask Bobby if we can borrow one of his cars." Dean clapped his hands together.
"I'll bring the sandwiches!" Emily smiled while looking at the not-yet-empty plate.
"I said I'd pass—''
"Bitch I made a whole plate of sandwiches and you are not wasting them, I'm bringing the fucking sandwiches."
In a Shitty Minivan
While the boys were in the front, Emily was squished in the back with some bad smells and car parts. The sandwiches were gone, so an empty plate sat on the seat beside her.
"I feel like a friggin' soccer mom." he grumbled.
"Why, because of me being a younger sibling or because it's a minivan?" she asked.
"Both…" he mumbled quietly.
"Well, it was the only thing Bobby had running." Sam patted his shoulder.
"And we ate all the sandwiches, so I'm perfectly content." she tried to stretch out on the seat.
They pulled up to a Roadhouse Saloon, it looked empty and run-down. However, that didn't seem to be the case as they saw clean tables through the windows. Dean shut the engine off and all of them left the vehicle. Emily stretched and cracked her back.
"Augh, that hit the spot." she was more comfortable now.
Walking up to the front doors, Sam peered in the windows and saw nobody. He quickly checked around the building and there was no sign of anybody back there either.
"Did you bring the uh…" Sam tossed Dean a lock-pick. "Thanks."
"You want me to keep watch out here?" Emily offered.
"That'd be nice. I'll give you the thumbs up when it looks all clear." he unlocked the doors.
"Alright. I'll be out here if you need anything." she gave them a thumbs up while watching them walk inside.
Sam and Dean walked inside of the Roadhouse, Emily watching through a window. They found a man asleep on the pool table, who they tried getting awake, but nothing worked. It seemed the brothers exchanged some words before splitting up. Sam went back into the kitchen, it seemed, while Dean continued in the main room. Emily noticed a figure go up behind Dean in the corner of her left eye. Gasping, she moved the bandana tied around her waist, revealing her gun. Pulling it out, she waited for Dean to give a signal. The aggressor was a blonde girl, holding a rifle now up against Dean's back. Dean spun and grabbed the rifle, which caused Emily to lose any form of panic, but when she punched him in the nose and took it back, she came through the doors.
` "Dean?!" she ran in, gun in hand.
"A little help here!" Dean pleaded.
The girl with the rifle turned and pointed it to Emily now, also going back to Dean if he moved.
"Where's Sam?" Emily asked, keeping eye contact with the girl.
As if on command, Sam walked through the kitchen doors with a gun to his own head, a woman pushing him along.
"I can't help ya, I'm a little…tied up…"
"Wait a second." the woman spoke. "Dean? Sam? Winchester?"
"Yea." the brothers answered. Dean motioned to Emily. "And sister."
"Well son of a bitch." the woman lowered her gun.
"Mom, you know them?" she kept her eye on Emily's gun.
"Yea, these are John Winchester's kids." she smiled.
Emily put her gun away, walking forward. Shit, do I need to explain myself to these people too?
"I'm Ellen." she smiled. "And this is my daughter, Jo."
Jo lowered her rifle. "Hey."
Dean waved. "Hey. You're not gonna punch me again, are you?"
Ellen went behind the bar to fetch a rag filled with ice. When she came back, she handed it off to Dean.
"Here you go."
"Thanks." he pressed it to his face. "You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?"
"Well, the demon of course. I heard he was closing in on it." Ellen seemed appalled he'd ask such a question.
"What, was there an article in Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed out on?" Dean replied.
"Dean." Emily tried to interject.
"Who are you? How do you know about this?" Dean questioned.
"Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters are known to pass through now and again, including your dad. John was like family once." Ellen explained.
"Well, how come he never mentioned you?" Dean asked.
''I don't know, you'd need to ask him that." Ellen replied, somewhat offended.
"Well, why do we need your help?"
"Dean, come on now." Emily whispered at him. "She's just trying to help."
"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if..." she stopped, looking at how Sam turned away. "He didn't send you." Emily and her brothers exchanged looks. "He's alright, isn't he?" Ellen went from hardened mom to soft in a manner of seconds.
"No." Sam answered. "No, he isn't. We think it was the demon, it got to him before he got to it I guess."
"I'm so sorry." Ellen apologized.
"It's okay. We're alright." Dean answered for them all.
Emily snuck a look while Ellen continued talking.
"Are you sure? I know how close you and your dad were."
"Listen, lady, I said I'm fine." Dean replied irritably.
"Dean I'm going to fucking kick your ass." Emily whispered as Ellen turned to Sam. "This woman is just trying to help us and you're being inconceivably rude. Knock it off."
"Who are you, my mother?" Dean whispered back angrily.
"We could use all the help you can give us." Sam said.
"Well, we can't help you." Ellen put her hands on her hips. "But Ash can."
"Ash?" Emily asked, side convo with Dean over.
Ellen nodded. "ASH!" she shouted to the man on the pool table.
Flailing, the man sat up, snorting, surprised. "Is it closing time?"
"That's Ash?" Dean asked.
"Mm-hmmmm. Ash is a genius." Jo chimed in.
The siblings were invited to sit at the bar, while Ash got himself put together. Jo went behind the bar and began pouring glasses of water. Dean opened up his jacket and pulled out a big brown folder, slapping it on the table.
"You're kidding me. This guy ain't a genius, he's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."
"I like you." Ash replied.
"Thanks." Dean smiled.
"Just give him a chance." Jo said while sliding the water to each of them.
Opening the folder, Dean sifted through the papers quickly, making sure everything was there.
"This is a year of our dad's research, see what you can make of it." Dean said, sliding the folder to Ash.
Emily looked at her water glass while Ash looked through the papers. Marcus had hunted demons differently, so Emily didn't necessarily agree with John's methods. But she assumed John's way was the way things were gonna fly from now on, especially now that Dean's going to want to keep on trucking how John did. That's what it seemed like anyway.
"So Ash, can you track it or not?" Sam asked, pulling Emily back to the discussion.
"Yea, with this, I think so." he organized the papers neatly. "Just give me…fifty-one hours."
"That's oddly specific." Emily sipped some water.
"That's right, kid." he got up off the barstool.
"Hey, Ash." Dean said. "I uh…dig the haircut."
"Thanks man." Ash swished his mullet. "Business in the front, party in the back."
As Ash left the room, Jo came to the front of the bar and winked at Dean along the way. Feeling the flirtatiousness, Emily just scooted to Dean's old stool, now that he went to follow his admirer. Sam hadn't even touched his water, he seemed more focused on something behind the bar.
"Hey, Ellen, what is that?" Sam asked.
"This? It's just a police scanner, we keep track of—"
"No, no, no, the folder." Sam cut her off.
"Oh, it's just a case for a friend. I was gonna give it to him, but hey, if you want, you can look at it." she tossed him the folder.
As Sam opened the folder, Emily leaned in to read the papers with him. Naturally, he slid some of the papers to her for her to read.
"Couple murdered, child left alive." she read aloud. "Jesus…"
"Medford, Wisconsin. How long does it take to get there from here?" Sam asked.
"You'd have to talk to the designated driver." she gestured to Dean, who was talking with Jo.
"Hey Dean." Sam called. "Come here for a sec."
Hearing Dean grunt, she turned to watch him walk over. "What's up?"
"A few murders, not that far from here that Ellen caught wind of. Sounds like a case." Sam explained.
"Yea, so?" Dean replied.
"We've got fifty-one hours." Emily hopped off her stool.
Highway, Several Hours Later
"When you said 'not far from here', I figured you meant in-state." Dean grumbled while driving.
"Well, let's just get this done and move on, okay?" Sam sassed while on his laptop.
Emily wasn't so thrilled about how the seat she was sitting in supported her back, but that was all they had to drive in. Her lumbar wasn't doing so hot after hours on the highway.
"What does the research say, Sam?" Emily asked, trying to get her mind off of her back.
"Well…" he cleared his throat. "It says the child let a clown into her home when it showed up at the door…she said it followed her home from the carnival. It then allegedly killed her parents in bed."
"A killer clown?" Dean asked, dumbfounded.
"You've got to be kidding me." Emily answered.
"Yea. Left the kid completely unharmed, but it killed the parents. Ripped them to shreds, actually." Sam reported, brows furrowed.
"And the family was at the carnival that night?" Dean asked, eyes focused on the road.
"Yup. Cooper Carnivals." Sam nodded.
Shuddering, Emily felt a cold sweat bead on her forehead. Carnivals gave her the heebie jeebies.
"How do we know we're not dealing with a crazy psycho in a clown suit?" Dean asked.
"The cops don't have any leads, and the carnival workers were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus, the girl said the clown vanished into thin air."
"So the cops think it's trauma…" Emily mumbled.
"Well," Dean laughed. "I know what you're thinking, Sam. 'Why did it have to be clowns'?"
Raising an eyebrow, Emily peeked around Sam's seat and smiled at him as he now looked out the window.
"Are you scared of clowns?" she laughed.
"Come on, give me a break." Sam swatted her away.
Dean started laughing. "Didn't think I'd remember, huh? Come on, you still burst out crying at the television when Ronald McDonald comes on screen!"
"Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying." Sam rebutted.
"Planes crash!" Dean defended.
"And apparently clowns kill."
Emily sat back down and laughed at the bickering boys. Personally, she had never been on a plane and she also found clowns creepy. Perhaps she was the middle line, the compromise.
"What are you afraid of, Junior Mint?" Dean looked back at her in the mirror.
"Oh hell no. I'm not letting you exploit me for your amusement."
"I'll find out, I swear." chuckling, he turned to Sam again. "So, have these types murders happened before?"
After the shuffling of papers while balancing a computer on his lap, Sam found the right part of the file.
"According to the file, it happened again in 1981. Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales."
"If this is a spirit, it usually sticks to one place, usually. Hopping from carnival to carnival…it could be a cursed object." she thought aloud.
"Great, a paranormal scavenger hunt." Sam sighed, closing his laptop.
Now seemingly annoyed, Dean replied. "Hey, this case was your idea. Speaking of, why so quick to jump on it?"
Knowing where this conversation was going, Emily decided to lean on the center console and take partial blame for the case, saying she didn't feel like being bored for fifty-one hours. They both ignored her and continued their argument anyway. Slumping back in defeat, she decided to listen to another fabulous disagreement.
"I thought you were hell-bent for leather on this demon hunt." Dean asked.
"I just think this is what dad would want us to do." Sam replied.
God dammit, Sam.Why'd you have to say that?
Scoffing, Dean repeated, "What dad would have wanted?"
"Yea, so?"
"Nothing."
Argument diffusing itself awkwardly, Emily asked for music. As usual, she was ignored, being forced to pull out her earbuds and listen to her own tunes. Nightly car rides were supposed to be relaxing, not filled with sibling rivalry. Emily was positive that her music was audible from outside the buds, but she no longer cared. If the boys were going to bicker at all during the rest of the ride, she didn't want to hear any of it. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she decided to rescue her lumbar a little bit by lying down on the seat, failing due to the amount of space she didn't have. Their 'luxurious' minivan didn't accommodate the space needed for her dancer's legs. Scowling, she realized that there was some sort of lump protruding out of the seat where her head was lying. While she readjusted herself again, she kicked Dean's seat in the process, also knocking out one of her earbuds in time to hear him swear at her.
"Come back to me when your back hurts, aight?" she grumbled, lying down again.
Morning
At some point she must have drifted off to sleep because she was abruptly awoken by the squeaking of the brakes on a very bumpy road. With a disgruntled groan and sitting up in her seat, she saw amusement park rides and children laughing all over the place. Surely, they were in the middle of nowhere, dust rising from their tires also proving her point.
So nobody can hear us scream. She sighed.
Stretching, she felt her back pop where it shouldn't have.
"Whoa, that didn't sound good." Dean said.
"I feel like I slept on a tire." purposefully she cracked her back this time.
Sam seemed to have slept like a baby. His seat was probably just fine without any ominous objects poking out of it. Having his seat be kicked by Emily's feet, he thrust forward and rudely awoke with a snort. Dean was already out of the van, stretching and kicking the front wheels. After a quick glare, Sam emerged from the van as well. Only now did Emily take notice to their lack of official uniform. Either they were taking a whole new approach to this case or there was a new breed of laziness arising within the group.
"No Fed outfits?" she asked.
"Nope. Look there." Dean gestured with his head.
Looking to the inside of the carnival, between a Ferris Wheel and some food stands, there were already two men in suits interviewing some people. Cringing, she looked back to Dean who merely shrugged.
"Time to old school this." he cracked his knuckles.
Both siblings followed their older brother, Sam hiding how squeamish he was behind his straight face and 'rugged exterior'. Emily never understood why the staff laid down layers upon layers of hay on the ground during the carnival. Who was benefiting from all of that hay, the kids? While they walked through the carnival to get to their destination, several clowns and other carnies looked them in the eye. Sam didn't say anything, but his sister responded with a head nod to them all.
"Don't they freak you out?" he whispered.
"They smell fear, act natural." she said in all seriousness.
When he turned his head away, she stuck her tongue out with a smile. Fooling around with his fear was necessary.
"I'm gonna talk with the five-oh." Dean walked away without much else to say.
Sighing, Sam slid his hands into his pockets. While they stood around, Emily began to whistle. Kicking the dirt around was a reminder that they were in the middle of bum-nowhere.
"What can you whistle?" Sam asked, squinting from the sunlight.
Narrowing her eyes in concentration, she started whistling 'Simple Man' by Lynyrd Skynyrd. She kept the song going until her lips got too dry, making her lick her lips uncomfortably.
"Gross, I got spit everywhere…" she wiped her mouth with her arms.
As she spoke, a woman about three feet tall strolled past the two of them. Rudely, Sam just stared at her while she tried waving. When the woman wasn't looking, Emily kicked her brother in the shin.
"Ow!"
"That was rude."
Seeing his sister kick Sam in the shin, Dean made his reappearance. He looked confused, but he smirked anyway.
"Did you get her number?" he snickered.
With a scowl, Sam shrugged off his brother's taunt. His shin was recovering from his sister's kick while his pride was recovering from being within the confines of a carnival.
"More murders?" he asked finally.
"Two more last night." Dean nodded. "Apparently they were ripped to shreds. And they had a little boy with them."
"Who fingered the clown." Sam nodded, listening and talking at the same time.
Emily looked up at her brother with a strange look. Dean did the same.
"What?" Sam asked.
Laughing awkwardly from what Sam just said, Emily looked away again.
Blinking, Dean continued. "Yea, a clown that just vanished into thin air."
"If this is a cursed object, it's going to be like finding a needle in a stack of needles. It could be anything." Sam sighed.
"It's bound to give off an EMF, we just have to scan everything." Dean suggested.
"How inconspicuous." Emily commented.
Dean looked around with clenched teeth, trying to think of a solution. Sam continued to avoid eye contact with any of the carnival workers walking around him. Hands behind her head, Emily sighed and watched the Ferris Wheel go around and around and around.
Literally,fuck Ferris Wheels.
"We just have to blend in." Dean smiled.
"And how are we going to do that?" Emily asked, Dean walking past her and towards a telephone pole.
Dean smacked a paper on the pole. "Help wanted."
Sam and Emily exchanged glances, both of them having the same thought. Dean laughed at them, walking away toward a tent. They decided to follow, Emily feeling the wave of unease radiating off of her brother.
"He'll get his, just you wait…" he mumbled.
"I can't wait." she smiled.
The three of them walked into the targeted tent. Upon entry, they watched as a well-dressed older man throwing knives at a specified target. Emily was quite impressed. Dean approached the man, who was standing on a step stool for more height.
"Excuse me, have you seen Mr. Cooper?" he asked nicely.
The man turned around, he was wearing sunglasses. "What is that, some kind of joke?" he asked, offended.
The siblings lost their smiles, those who were wearing them.
Oh my god, tell me he's not…
The older man removed his glasses to reveal his pale white, glass-like eyes.
Oh god he is.
"Oh god, I'm, I'm sorry—" Dean tried.
"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset? Or anything at all?" the man asked irritably.
Backing away, Dean looked to his siblings for assistance.
"A little help here?!" he whispered.
Sam shook his head.
A very short man entered the scene and cleared his throat, his eyebrow twitching impatiently.
"Is there a problem here?" he asked.
"Yea, this guy hates blind people!" the older man exclaimed.
Emily tried as hard as she could not to smile guiltily. He was getting his, all right.
"No, no I don't, I just—" Dean struggled.
"Buddy, what's your problem?" the short man asked defensively.
"I think there was just a little misunderstanding…" he smiled, trying to dig himself out of his own grave.
"LITTLE?! You son of a bitch!" the small man stomped angrily in their direction.
"No, no, no, no!" Dean shouted. "Can someone just tell me where Mr. Cooper is?!"
Emily couldn't hold it in anymore, and neither could her brother. The two of them started laughing while their brother was apprehended by carnival workers.
"Please?!"
Mr. Cooper's Trailer
When the trio finally located Mr. Cooper's trailer, which was decorated to look like a quaint office, Mr. Cooper himself, an older gentleman, guided them inside.
"You three are choosing one hell of a time to join. Take a seat." he told them.
There were only two chairs, but the boys seemed to be fighting over the normal looking chair while Mr. Cooper had his back turned. The other chair was pink, smaller, and had a clown on it. Dean won the struggle over the regular chair, taking his seat victoriously. Sam offered Emily the chair, but she declined with a smirk. Sighing woefully, Sam sat in his clown chair. Lingering behind them, she straightened up her posture when Cooper sat down and faced them.
"We've got all kinds of local trouble." Cooper folded his hands on his desk.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked.
"Oh, a couple went and got themselves murdered. The police always seem to start here first." his voice lowered, but then he changed the subject. "So, have you ever worked the circuit before?"
"Yes sir, through Arkansas and Texas last year." Sam lied.
"Doing what? Ride jockies, ANS men?" Cooper asked, skeptical.
"A little bit of everything I guess." Dean smiled.
Oh my god. Emily shook her head to herself.
"You lot have never worked a show in your lives, have you?" Cooper raised an eyebrow.
Emily chimed in. "Nope, but we really need the work." she smiled.
"And Sammy's got a thing for the bearded lady." Dean winked.
At that, Sam shot Dean a glare. Cooper didn't laugh. He pointed to a picture frame on his desk.
"You see that picture? That's my daddy."
"You look just like him." Sam smiled and nodded.
"He was in the business. Ran a freakshow. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified." he shrugged. "So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress." he grunted. "I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Have two point five kids. Live regular." he sat back in his chair.
Two point five?Two is enough,I don't require just an arm…
Before Dean could speak up, Sam leaned forward and stared down Cooper with a serious expression.
"Sir? We don't want to go to school. We want this." Sam grinded his teeth.
Looking down at Sam, then back up at Cooper, Emily shook her head as if there was a misunderstanding. Cooper nodded his head as if impressed. Dean looked at Sam as if he was crazy, Emily doing the same if Cooper wasn't addressing her in any way.
After Cooper gave them their assignments, they were given a schedule and released from his trailer. As usual, the boys had a moment between each other while Emily was left to follow. Dean seemed to be nodding as if trying to understand something.
"Huh."
"What?" Sam asked.
"That whole, uh, I don't want to go back to school thing. Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?" Dean saw him hesitate. "Sam?"
Oh god, here we go again.
"I don't know." Sam replied.
"You don't know?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings, you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State."
"Where did you go to college again?" Emily asked.
They ignored her. "I'm having second thoughts."
"Really?" Dean was genuinely surprised.
"Yea, I think." Sam sighed. "I think dad would have wanted me to stay with the job."
Emily sighed. "God damn, you were doing so well…" she whispered.
"Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half of your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam." Dean asked assertively.
"Since he died, okay?" Sam snapped. "You have a problem with that?"
Shaking his head, Dean looked away. "Nah, not at all."
Scratching her cheek in frustration, Emily took a look at her schedule and assignment. When she read it, she stopped walking. The boys noticed and turned to look at her.
"Something wrong, Junior Mint?" Dean asked.
"Who is…Alfundo the Clown?"
Much to her demise, several trips to the maintenance trailer informed her that Alfundo was a mascot costume. A mascot costume that was nearly too small for her height, and a costume heavy enough to drown her in sweat because of lack of ventilation. The mascot head, removable when needed, was terrifying, a smile stretching across the clown's face with a big red nose and white face paint. She was given multicolored balls so she could attempt to juggle, but she gave the costume team a sneer.
"If I can't juggle without a bulky suit, how am I expected to juggle with one?"
The costume crew shrugged and made her put on the suit over her clothing. If the heat wasn't already bad enough, it was about to get ten times worse. She waddled out of the maintenance trailer without, somehow, maiming herself, and made her way to the public.
"Entertain the kids they said." she muffled under her giant clown head, "It will be fun they said."
In the distance, she could see Sam make his way into the Funhouse with the EMF detector. He was sure to stay clear of her for the entirety of this hunt, no doubt. Children walked past her, calling out 'Alfundo, Alfundo!' and questioning why she wasn't juggling. Waving with two hands like a good mascot, she was dead on the inside.
"Emily Winchester, hunter and strategist, mingling with children in a clown costume. Love my life."
After a good amount of time staying in that one spot, she waddled around the carnival with the costume's arms hanging limp, using her own hands to sweep with her EMF. It may not have been the most effective, but she could tell more or less. Dean's swearing and grouching could be heard in the distance, growing louder and louder the more she waddled in the direction of what looked like a dumpster. Dean and Sam had been hired as simple carnival clean-up crew, which she supposed was worse than waddling around in a sweaty clown suit all day. Being as quiet as she could, she snuck up behind her brother.
"WELCOME TO THE CARNIVAL! HOW CAN ALFUNDO HELP YOU TODAY?!" she shouted in a 'clownish' voice.
Startled, Dean jumped several feet back, trash bag flying, and got into a fighting stance, relaxing when Emily laughed at the top of her lungs, taking the clown head off.
"Emily, you scared the shit out of me!" he shouted.
Wiping her dampened forehead of sweat, she took gasps between laughs. "Your fucking face! Wait til I tell Sam you got afraid of Alfundo!"
"Don't you dare." he straightened up and wiped loose trash off of his orange vest.
"Just try me." she challenged.
Before he could reply, his phone rang. Emily looked around and shielded her eyes from the sun while Dean took the call.
"Hello?"
"Turn it on speaker, I wanna hear." she put the head on the ground.
He did, Sam being in the middle of a sentence.
"—spirit ISN'T attached to a cursed object? What if it's attached to its own remains?"
"Dude, what's up? You sound like you just saw a clown." Dean snickered.
"Shut up. There's a skeleton in the funhouse, you idiot."
"Did the bones give off EMF?" Emily asked.
"Oh, hi Emily.No, but—"
"MY NAME'S ALFUNDO!" she shouted in her clown voice.
"GOD DAMMIT, I'M HANGING UP."
Laughing, Dean told Sam that they were going to meet him in the funhouse. Sam seemed irritated, but Emily didn't feel bad about it. Sam hung up abruptly as she wiped a tear from her eye, it forming from laughing too hard. As she was putting the clown head back on, she saw the blind man from earlier creep into view. Even though he seemed like just a bitter old man, something was off about him. When she made 'eye contact' with him, she waddled away, thinking that he could smell fear. She heard him speak to Dean, and she didn't know whether or not she should've intervened.
"Hang on honey, where are you goin'?" the old man asked.
It's not like he can see me run.
Waddling faster, she escaped the area, leaving her brother to fend for himself. Navigating through the carnival-goers, occasionally stopping for parents to take pictures of a crazy clown suit, she made her way towards the funhouse where Sam was located. He was awaiting her arrival, but also expected the presence of Dean.
"The blind man found him. He might be dead."
"Not funny." he wasn't looking at her. "Take that stupid head off!"
"Fine." she removed the clown head. "So what about that EMF?"
"There wasn't an EMF, I'm just saying that-" he stopped when he saw Dean walking towards them, "What took you so long?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Long story."
In their brief silence, they heard a child shout "Mommy, look at the clown!"
Thinking the child meant her, Emily went to lift her head back on, but Dean and Sam stuck their arms out to stop her. Seeing why, she noticed where the child was pointing. A little girl was pointing to an empty space. There was no clown where she was pointing, causing her mom to ask "What clown?". The mother pulled the girl by the arm, guiding her away and saying that there was no clown. The siblings shared glances, watching the blank space where the child was pointing.
Child's home, night
"I really think there's a tire stuffed in this seat." Emily complained, rubbing her back.
The siblings decided, unanimously, to stakeout the girl's home. If there was a murder tonight, it wouldn't be by clown.
"I can't believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown." Sam remarked with an eye roll.
"I told him a legend about a homicidal phantom clown, I never said it was real." Dean corrected.
Upon his correction, he pulled out a pistol and cocked it. Sam, eyes wide, shoved it out of view.
"Put that down!"
"But hey, Sam, get this. I mentioned the Bunker Brothers killing in '81 and guess what?" Dean continued fiddling with the gun.
"What?"
"Before Cooper owned Cooper Carnivals, he was the lot manager for Bunker Brothers."
"So..." Emily sat back in her seat. "If there is anything..."
"Cooper brought it with him?" Sam continued.
"Probably." after a brief pause, Dean smirked. "I can't believe we keep talking about clowns."
After their discussion, they wasted a solid hour grunting at each other and trying to start conversations. Dean was awfully distant, and she damn well knew why. So far, they've been pretty alright with keeping off the subject of John, but it was just a simmering pot. The lid was bound to pop off some time. Dean wasn't much for words for another reason as well, he seemed to be falling asleep when he should have been keeping a lookout for the homicidal clown. Emily looked out the window in anticipation. The clown was surely going to show up, but she wished it would be soon. Another twenty minutes went by before, suddenly, the house's dining room lights clicked on. Sam shook his brother awake, and in the meantime, Emily straightened up and watched a figment come to solidity before her eyes. The phantom clown had made its appearance, as if deriving from a mist. The front door opened, the little girl smiling and being the greeter.
"It's go time." Dean, now awake, left the vehicle.
Emily and Sam followed, going around the long way of the house to come in through the back door. If the girl was going to let the clown in, the doors would be unlocked on all sides. Thankfully they were correct, the back door slid open easily. They tiptoed into the main hallway where the girl was leading her homicidal guest. Before they could be seen, they crouched down by the closet, behind the stairs, and behind the coat rack.
"Do you want to see mommy and daddy? They're upstairs." the girl smiled, taking the route right to Sam in hiding.
When they were close enough, Sam jumped out from behind the bookshelf and grabbed the girl. To their dismay, she began to scream. Rather loudly at that. Dean popped out and shot the clown in the chest, making it fall onto its back. Emily shot it again when it was standing back up, but it locked eyes with her and stood up fully. Hearing commotion from upstairs, the clown leaped out the window, vanishing in the process. Meanwhile, the girl began kicking and flailing, screaming her head off. The mother and father were making their way down the stairs, the trio looking up like punished children.
"What's going on here?!" the father shouted.
"What are you doing to my daughter?!" the mother shrieked.
Without hesitation, Sam dropped the girl and the three of them sprinted out of the house as fast as they could. Retreating to the car, Emily was hardly able to close the door before their vehicle sped off down the road.
"Now where are we going?!" she shouted, looking behind them for pursuers.
Dean swerved out of the culdasack and took the road away from the development. He didn't answer her question, only drove 20 miles over the speed limit and grunted a lot. Sam gripped his seat as if his life were in danger, and in honest truth, it might have been.
"We gotta ditch this car before sunrise, if we're caught in this hunk of shit, we're done!" Dean shouted, still in a turning frenzy.
"At least slow down! We're far enough away from the house, at least don't become an attraction to police officers!"
Morning
Dean had found a back road to park on, nestling the van in the bushes and off the drag so it wasn't too noticable. The trio unpacked their things from the trunk and carried them, walking down the road in the morning sunlight.
"You really think they saw our plates?" Sam asked, watching Dean pack the plates into his duffel.
"I don't wanna take the chance." Dean replied.
"Thing is a piece of shit anyway...damn tires in the seats...can't sleep for shit..." Emily mumbled, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders.
Without a set of sunglasses to keep her from squinting, Emily looked at the sky with a scrunched up face, covering her eyes with her hand above them. There was a twinge in her neck and she cracked it, the pop echoing a bit, but not effecting the boys one bit. There was a storm coming.
"We're definitely not dealing with a spirit." Dean started. "That rock salt hit something solid."
"Do you think it's a person? A creature that can make itself invisible?" Sam asked.
"If it dresses up in a clown costume for kicks, I'm sure that's possible. What's in dad's journal?"
"Nothing." Sam replied, pulling out his cell phone.
Emily raised an eyebrow. "Who're you calling?"
"I think that Ellen or Ash might know something." After a bit of dialing, he stopped. "Do you think Ellen and dad ever had, you know, a thing?"
Dean shook his head. "No way."
Emily shrugged.
"Then why didn't he ever tell us about her?" Sam asked.
"I dunno, maybe they had a falling out?" Dean asked, annoyed.
"He got into a falling out with just about everybody, including his own children." Emily sighed, keeping her glance away from Dean.
Casually, almost not acknowledging her statement, Dean nodded. With an upset twitch, Sam lowered his phone, not completing the call.
"Dean, don't be doing this to me." he furrowed his brows.
"What are you talking about?" Dean turned to his brother.
"I mean this 'strong silent' thing of yours, it's crap."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh god."
Sam rose his hands. "Hey, I'm over it. But I know that there isn't any old reason for it, this is about dad. I know how you felt about the man."
Emily picked up her pace so she wouldn't have to get involved.
"You know what, back off, alright?" Dean snapped. "Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to doesn't mean you need to keep bringing it up!" He changed his glance. "Emily, where the hell are you going?"
"Away from you guys. I'm gonna let you duke it out."
"Get back here, you don't know where you're going." Dean ordered.
She stopped, but didn't come back.
"Dean would you focus? My 'caring and sharing' isn't what this is about! I don't care how you're dealing with this, I just want to make sure you're okay. You're my brother."
Eyes wide, Dean put his hands out as if just to stop the talking altogether. "Dude, I'm okay, okay? I swear to god, if anybody else asks if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches." he looked at his sister again, who had been standing still, and huffed. "these are your issues, quit dumping them on me."
Sam asked, flabbergasted, "What are you talking about?"
Emily couldn't take the arguing anymore. However, she knew that this wasn't her argument anymore. John was dead. She was fine with it. But she knew her brothers weren't, she needed to let them work it out alone.
"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late."
That's about good... Emily thought, turning around to see Dean caught up with her.
Sam looked ready to pop. "I'm calling Ellen."
Emily and Dean pulled ahead while Sam made his phone call, Emily's pout not going unnoticed by her brother. He sighed and nudged her with his elbow.
"I didn't mean to snap at you, I'm just afraid that sometimes our fighting will make you leave us. I don't want you to be upset, I know you're affected too."
"Yea." she shrugged.
Not really...
"Hey, come on now." he nudged her again. "Don't you take after me. Save the silent treatment for when it really matters, huh?" he smiled at her.
Rolling her eyes, she smiled too. "Yea, alright."
"But really, Junior Mint, there's been something on my mind since Salvation..."
"Wow, throwback. What's wrong?"
"I know you said you wanted me to hold off, but the stuff about Marcus..."
They heard footsteps coming up from behind them, Sam finally catching up.
"Rakshasa." He told them, stuffing his phone away.
"What is that?" Dean rose a brow.
"Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures, they appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited." Sam told them.
"Dress up like a clown and a kid will invite you right in." Dean nodded.
"That's terrifying." Emily shuddered.
"Thank you." Sam nodded in agreement. "But what I don't know is why they don't feed on the kids. Perhaps there isn't enough meat on the bones, I don't know. But for now, it makes the most sense."
"What else did you find out?" Dean asked.
"Rakshasas live in squalor, they sleep on a bed of insects."
"That's disGUSTING." Emily shouted.
Shrugging, Sam continued. "They also only feed every 20 to 30 years or so. Slow metabolism maybe?"
"It makes sense. I mean, the carnival today, then back in '81. And who worked both of those shows?"
"Cooper." Emily said. "The picture of his dad looked just like him, you said it yourself in the office, didn't you? If not, we all thought it."
"How do we kill him?" Dean asked.
"Dagger of pure brass."
Chuckling, Dean marched ahead. "I know exactly where to get one of those."
Carnival, Night
"Thanks again for letting me see your knives." Emily said happily.
The blind man whispered into Dean's ear, "I thought your sister here would be at least the normal one amongst you boys."
"While we're on the subject," he laughed it off, "do you have any brass knives you could show her?"
"Eh?" Papazian thought. "I have a lot of knives, but I don't know if I have a brass one."
Emily was already in the trailer, waiting for the two of them to come in. Papazian was up inside before Dean, and he tapped the trunk against the wall with his cane.
"Check the trunk." He told her.
Dean was the one to open the trunk, pausing immediately when he saw the contents inside. Emily got a good look too, and what she saw came completely out of left field. There was a red clown wig paired with a polka-dot clown suit.
"It's you?" Dean asked, both his and Emily's eyes on the newfound monster.
With a smile on his face, Papazian dropped his cane and took his glasses off. His eyes looked completely normal, then he allowed them to turn cloudy. With the flick of his wrist in a wave, he vanished. Door slamming on them, trunk slamming shut, there was nowhere for them to run.
"I thought it was going to be Cooper, not a master marksman!" Emily shouted, bashing against the door.
"And you thought I didn't?!" a knife whizzed by Dean's head. "Jesus Christ!"
Both applying equal force in one move, they were able to take the door down with their bodies, both tumbling out of the trailer in the upward, Emily looked all around her, paranoia of an unseeable enemy setting in. The footsteps running up behind her didn't help one bit.
"Hey guys!" Sam greeted, out of breath. "It isn't Cooper. He thinks I'm a peeping tom, but it isn't him."
"We know," Dean was looking around, "It's Papazian."
"What? Did you at least-"
"Get the knives?" Emily finished. "Nope, it's been that kind of day."
After pondering for a few seconds, Sam guided the two away. "Come on, I have an idea!"
Sam leading the way, the three of them sprinted through the empty carnival, careful not to slip on the hay that was littered all over the place. There was the constant fear of being knifed in the back by a mysterious appearing blade, but they made their beeline for Sam's destination. Ultimately, they seemed to be headed for the Funhouse.
Sam and the others sprinted through the entrance, but as they were about to group up, a door slammed between Dean and Sam, Emily being caught on Dean's side, almost crushed by the sudden door crashing down between them.
"Ah, shit! Sam!" Emily and Dean shouted.
"Find the maze!" they heard his voice on the other side. "We can meet up in the middle, hurry!"
Looking around, they found the maze of mirrors that Sam must have been referring to. With an incredible distaste for mirrors, especially funhouse variety, this section of the chase was the most frightening for her.
"My hips look huge! Aw, man, do they really look like that?!" she shouted, going around a corner.
"I'm not going to dignify that with a response!" Dean replied, rounding the same corner.
Sam appeared around that corner, weilding a pipe that seemed to have come from an organ. He didn't strike them with it, but he seemed ready to. Huffing and puffing, the duo stopped.
"Where is he?" Dean asked. "Like, shouldn't we see his clothes walking around?"
With a scream, Emily dove onto the floor while trying to dodge a flying knife. Dean wasn't so lucky, getting his sleeve pinned to the wall. Knife after knife flew by, only one more additional one pinning his wrist completely. Whilst trying to remove it, Sam held the pipe in the air, ready to strike.
"Sam, to your left!" Emily got up, seeing another knife.
The projectile whizzed by Sam's head, a successful dodge even without his sister's help. However, looking around, the target was nowhere in clear sight.
"I can't see him!" Emily shouted.
In the middle of trying to break his wrist free from the wall, Dean took notice to a lever on the wall. With his free hand, he gripped and tugged down on it. From activation, steam gushed from the pipes on the ceiling, creating a type of apparition behind Sam. His back was turned, and the form was moving.
"Sam, it's behind you! Behind you!" Dean shouted.
Without looking, Sam thrust his pipe backward, successfully making contact with an object. A fleshy object. Upon turning around, he saw blood spewing from a half-invisible creature, the pipe lodged inside of it and clearly sending it into agony. A set of clothing fell to the floor, the pipe resting on top of it. Breathing heavily, panic subdued, the two available siblings were able to release their brother from the blades that held him to the wall.
"I hate funhouses." Dean muttered.
"That's it." Emily huffed. "That's it, I'm officially afraid of clowns," she walked out the front door of the funhouse. "I'm done. I'm done, guys."
"Emily?" Sam asked.
"Let's just find a way home and get the hell away from here. Fuck carnivals, I'm done."
The boys looked at each other and laughed.
Roadhouse, next day
While Ellen and the boys had some beer, Emily enjoyed a plastic cup of water. Ellen praised them about how they did a good job and about how John would be proud, but Emily thought of it all as words. Sure, in the last few hours, she may have grown on the man, but she knew that in the very end, there was no room for caring about her dad. Whoops.
"Hey Dean." Jo sat on a bar stool next to him.
Not quite getting the hint at first, Sam choked on his beer, coughing with liquid entering his lungs. "Right! I, uh, Emily," he pulled on her arm. "We've gotta talk, like, over there!"
"Wait what?" she was pulled off of her stool. "What?! Sam!"
"I think he needs a minute. It's okay though." he winked.
"Ohhhh... Got it." she winked back awkwardly.
After a session of awkward water drinking, watching her brother flirt with a girl most likely way younger than him, Ash emerged from his room holding a custom built laptop. His eyes lit up when he saw them.
"There you guys are, I've been waiting for ya." he set his laptop down.
"Did you find the demon?" Dean asked.
Sam and Emily returned to the bar to listen in on what Ash had to say.
"According to my set-up," he replied, "he's nowhere around. But once that bastard rears his fugly head, my rig will go off like a fire alarm. Any omens, any patterns, anything, I'll know immediately."
Emily, in awe, looked at the laptop. "Where did you learn to make this?"
"M.I.T." he answered.
"My friend Kevin was dying to get into there...oh wow..."
"M.I.T?" Dean asked, appalled.
"It's a school in Boston." Ash answered.
"Please, give us a call if you hear anything. Okay?" Sam asked.
"Yea, man. Definitely. I'll keep a close eye on it, and the first thing that crops up, bam. I'll let you know."
Ellen offered to have the trio stay at the Roadhouse, but Dean, politely, declined the offer. It struck Emily as odd, he was turning down free residence. But it didn't take her long to realize exactly why.
Bobby's Lot, The Next Day
"Junior Mint, I thought we had a talk about these sandwiches. I don't eat while I work." Dean muttered from under the Impala.
"Well, you really should. It keeps your morale up and gives you plenty of energy." chomping down on a tuna sandwich, she raised her brows as if to prove a point.
Shaking his head, he wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead. Cracking her back as she stood, Emily stretched and muttered something about how car stuff was all voodoo to her. Never understood it, never will.
"Do you at least want some more Gatorade?" she gestured to his empty bottle.
"Uh...yea, sure. That'd be great," he swore at the frame, "get me a yellow."
"You're getting whatever the hell we have." she walked off, passing Sam on the trek back. "Hey man, you want a drink? I'm getting Dean a Gatorade."
"Oh. Uh...nah, Em, I'm alright. Thanks though." he seemed dodgy, as if he was pondering a life choice.
"Be back in a jiff, Dean!" she shouted back, darting inside to raid Bobby's fridge.
Luckily, Bobby wasn't home, so she could get away with running into the fridge and obtaining a beverage. Just what Dean wanted, a yellow, and a light blue was inside. It was their lucky day, cause those flavors were the bomb. Closing the fridge, she skipped out, pausing when she heard Sam talking. She hid behind the door frame, anxious to eavesdrop.
"You were right." Sam said.
"About what?" Dean responded.
"About me and dad. I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know he died thinking that I hate him. So you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little. It's too late."
From what Emily heard, Dean didn't give him a response.
"I miss him, and I feel guilty as all hell. And I'm not okay. I'm not. But you aren't either, that's all I know."
Once again, silence from Dean's end.
"I'll let you get back to work." Sam walked back in the direction of the kitchen.
Emily acted natural, making it seem like she didn't just eavesdrop on their brotherly moment. He gave her a head nod and smile, she taking a sip from her Gatorade. When he was gone, she once again tried making her way outside, but was frightened at the sound of breaking glass. Taken aback, jumping from such a loud crash, she watched from a distance what Dean was doing. Weilding a crowbar in his hand, he beat on the Impala with screams of rage, tears welling in his eyes. He broke glass, created dents, and possibly damaged the bar in the process. Feeling tears well in her own eyes, she backed away before he could sense her presence. Tears dropped onto her hands and into her drink, bouncing off the cap of her brother's and onto the dirt, she backed into the wall and slid down to the ground. However, she was grieving for more than her brother. He was turning as destructive as she had.
