The carnival lights flickered on and all at once the park became a place of magic. The scent of popcorn, candyfloss and hot-dogs assailed the nostrils and wide eyed children came running with dimes and dollars clutched in their hot, excited hands.

Rides rose up against the night sky, soaring roller coasters; the Ferris wheel; dark, yet garish ghost trains. Then there were the booths; 'Guess Your Weight', 'Win a Cuddly Toy For Your Girl', 'See the Two Headed Sheep for a Dollar'. Some were strangely old fashioned, others up to date with computer games and arcades. Everything in the carnival was exciting, breath-taking and it was hard for even the oldest of residents not to feel some excitement.

The boxing booth was one of the biggest booths in the place and also one of the most popular. It held over 200 people and took the biggest amount of profit. It was there that Joey was headed along with several of his football buddies, desperate to prove a point.

Joey was captain of the high school football team, key member of the swim club, best right base in the business and king of the track. He did gym every day and was always on the training ground. He was tall and the chicks told him he had a good body and he always, always won. His best friend, Chet, had told him about the booth and from that moment he was determined to go to the carnival and make a name for himself. 'Beat our Champion and win $400'. That was the challenge and Joey was more than up for it. Apparently this guy hadn't lost in four years, but that didn't daunt Joey, he was more than capable of beating some old boxer guy who'd had his fair share of good luck.

The booth was already packed and Joey's buddies had grabbed themselves front row seats. They hooted and screamed as Joey climbed into the ring, waving his arms around as if he had already made himself champion. The referee/master of ceremonies looked at Joey and smiled wryly

"Are you up to the challenge kid?"

"Of course" Joey pulled off his tee-shirt, revealing his finely muscled chest "This will be the easiest four hundred bucks I've ever made"

"Sure" the referee gazed into the baying crowd and picked up his mike "What's your name kid?"

"Joey Convey"

The referee took a deep breath and began

"Ladies and gentlemen – tonight's challenger – our local boy Joey Convey. If he stays three rounds with our champion and knocks him down – he goes away with $400 – so let's hear it for Joey Convey!"

The crowd roared and his buddies hollered some more. Joey bounced around on his toes, arms above his head. The referee nodded and once more raised the mike

"And now – our champion – lets give him a round of applause" All eyes turned to the door of the booth and watched, almost reverently, as their champion moved out of the shadows into the light.

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Joey had long stopped bouncing when the man climbed into the ring. Somehow the crowd's cries seemed more distant now and there was a sharp pain forming in his stomach. The man before him was no 'old boxer' running out of luck. No, this was a young man still in his prime, over six feet; bare chest lightly muscled, covered in the threads of old scars, leading down to a tapered waist and strong lean thighs. The man's arms were strong and capable, his clenched fists showing calloused knuckles. However it was the face that caught Joey's attention; This was not the face of a bare knuckled boxer, it was clean and unmarked with strong cheekbones and soft, almost womanly lips and those eyes, moss green and as cold as chipped ice, they stared at him hard for a moment and those pretty lips curved in a smile that Joey knew was mocking.

"Toe the line" the referee called out and the two men moved to the centre of the ring, almost eye to eye. Joey swallowed hard and he felt the man move a little closer, his lips against Joey's ear

"I can go easy on you kid" the man's voice was soft, but steely "One round and you can get out of here without so much of a scratch on that all American face"

Joey nodded and jumped back, wanting, suddenly to get out of the ring, out of the booth and, hell to it, out of the state. The man caught his panic and grinned, flexing his hands and stretching his neck, the amulet around his throat glinting in the bright ringside lights.

The fight was over, really before it had begun. After a few ineffectual punches, Joey decided he would rather face humiliation than destruction and he spent most of the first round on his back foot. The champion kept to his word, jabbing him in the stomach or chest, his bare knuckles stinging and burning. Joey knew he was restraining himself and he prayed to god he would never feel those fists for real. The referee called it in the second and Joey stayed long enough to pick up his shirt and flee.

"Winner and still our Champion – Dean 'The Demon' Williams' the referee lifted the champions arm and the crowd went wild. Money flew into the ring and so did several pieces of paper. The referee grinned at the man beside him and bent down to pick up the money

"Good work son" he said, handing the man before him a roll of banknotes "Go and get yourself a beer, tomorrows Saturday, gonna be a big night"

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Dean never thought he would be able to replace the thrill and adrenaline rush that hunting gave him, but this had to come pretty damn close. He thrust the bank roll in his pocket and sat down on the nearest chair to put on his boots. The roar of the crowd was like music to his ears and it filled him with something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He slipped a sweatshirt over his head, then waving to the crowd one last time; he left the booth and went in search of his trailer and a beer.

He opened the cupboard and pulled out the cookie jar. It was one of those novelty ones, shaped like a shark that played the theme from Jaws when he opened it. He thrust the bank roll into the jar, on top of all the others, and then placed it back in the cupboard next to the rest. He now had a bear, Shrek, Mickey Mouse and a cow that mooed. Hell, he wasn't about to open a bank account and his money was safe enough here. He mused for a moment, wondering how much money might be in those jars, then he shrugged and moved from the cupboard to the fridge where a cold bud awaited him.

His trailer was the closest thing he had ever had to a home since his mom died. It was strange really, but it offered him security without permanency. He was so used to travelling that he had found it hard to stay in one place after...well after Sammy left and the carnival gave him something he had never really had before, family.

Hell, he fitted in here alright, with all the other freaks. He was at home alongside the bearded woman and the two headed cow. He didn't like to think too deeply about things these days and the folk who travelled with the carnival were much the same. Life was for living now, so it was a case of 'Live for today – let tomorrow take care of itself'. Dean liked that statement, fuck, he even swore by it.

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Six years ago they had finally killed the demon, but not without cost. Their father had died in the attempt and both had been mentally and physically exhausted. They had taken an extended vacation at the coast, after returning their father's ashes to Lawrence to rest next to their mother. It seemed strange, to just lie and think about nothing, but Dean found himself beginning to like it. Now the stress and strain had gone from Sam, he was better company and, together, they had trawled the bars of Orlando, getting drunk and hitting on women, something he thought they would never do together.

Then, suddenly, it was over and Sam was packing his things and talking about Stanford. Dean couldn't handle it, didn't know what to do or say. He didn't want to lose his brother now, he had no purpose without him, but hell, he was too proud to beg and Sam wasn't going to stay no matter what he said or did. In the end Dean had just let him go and he vowed that he would never, ever let anyone get close to him again.

At first Sam rang nearly every day. Dean never answered. In the end he changed his cell phone number and the calls stopped. Then it was letters, several a week, all addressed to Dean at their temporary address in Orlando. Dean returned the letters to sender and moved out. He had no car, no job and very little money. It was desperation that drove him to the carnival and desperation that made him take the labourers job that was offered there. He worked night and day, setting up booths, cleaning the rides, doing maintenance on the rides. The carnival folk welcomed him and didn't question and soon he was forgetting his past and looking to the future.

The old fighter that had ruled the boxing booth retired and Jim, the owner, had approached Dean and asked him if he would like to give it a try. $200 for every fight he won and if he lost, then hell, they'd have to think of something else, but Dean never lost, not once. He took to bare knuckle fighting like a duck takes to water. He was always fit and hunting had kept him alert. He had been trained like a soldier and this training had certainly paid off. Dean was now one of the biggest draws the carnival had ever had. Dean 'the Demon' – he laughed, wryly, to himself. What would Sammy think of his fighting name? He wondered if his baby brother would see the funny side – somehow he doubted it, doubted it very much. He finished off the beer and reached for another. Man, he was drunk more than he was sober these days, but who cared, he was happy – wasn't he?

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