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1995 – Sam is 12 and Dean is 16. The boys are trapped in their 3rd apartment this year, and bored out of their minds, waiting on their dad to get back from the latest hunt. Sam is at the age where he just won't shut up. No matter what Dean says, doesn't say, or physically threatens to do to the kid, he just won't shut the hell up. Dean has had enough.

"Sammy, it's past your bedtime, go brush your teeth."

"But Dean-o, it's only 10:30 and the news hasn't even come on yet."

"No buts, butthead, get ready for bed. Pronto. I don't want you falling asleep in school again, because dad will have my ass."

"Fine." Sam huffs as he stomps down the hall towards their shared bedroom.

Dean uses the time Sam is brushing his teeth to check the supplies and make sure all is ready for operation "Insane Clown".

"Dean, I'm done, come tuck me in."

"Yeah, yeah. . ." he grumbles. At least the kid will be zonked out soon and I can have some fun.

"Teeth brushed?"

"Check."

"Bathroom?"

"Double check" Sam giggles.

"Homework done?"

"Yes, sir." Sam replies while mock saluting Dean.

"Okay squirt, time to hit the hay. I don't want to hear another peep out of you until the alarm goes off in the morning. Got it?"

"Got it Dean-o. Nighty night."

Dean proceeds to tuck the blanks around Sam like he is a burrito and leaves the door open, so a crack of light can be seen, and won't leave his brother completely in the dark, until he himself comes to bed later.

He waits until the news goes off at 11:30 and Sam most likely is asleep. He turns the TV off, grabs the bag from under the sofa cushion, and tip toes down the hall to their bedroom. He stops and listens to the even breathing of his little brother which signals he is deep in la-la land.

Dean opens the door gently and makes sure there is enough light streaming in for him to see Sammy's face. He walks over towards his brother's bed and sits the bag on the nightstand to leave both hands free to work. He begins with the face paint and ends with the twisted rubber bands. Once he is sure he has created a work of art, he stuffs the bag of supplies underneath the far side of his mattress and gets himself ready for bed.

He falls into a wonderful dream-filled sleep with visions of Sammy the Clown dancing in his head, and a shit-eating grin filling his smug 16 year old face. He can't wait until 7:00 tomorrow morning when Sammy gets a good look at his handiwork.

Approximately 7 hours later, Dean is woken up by a blood curdling scream coming from somewhere in the apartment. He leaps out of bed with his trusty knife in his right hand, looking from corner to corner, top to bottom of their bedroom. And suddenly it hits him. The girlish scream he heard, came from his brother. He must have finally caught sight of Dean's little joke from the night before. Dean jumps back into bed, putting his knife back where it belongs and pulling the covers back snuggly over his head, attempting to catch a few more minutes of shut eye before Hurricane Sammy enters the room.

Not long after he has re-cocooned himself into bed, does he hear the faintest sounds of hollering and cursing, followed by large stomps from his 12 year old brothers, sized 11 feet. It that kid didn't have so much folded under, he would be a fairly tall dude. Dean snickers to himself and proceeds to put on his best "WTF?" face.

Finally the stomping stops, just beside Dean's bed. He waits patiently for Sammy to either say something or start punching at the lumps under the blankets. He is prepared for either one. What he is not prepared for is the small sniffling he hears coming from his baby brother and the loud sighing. God, Sammy had better not be wearing the puppy dog eyes, he knows I cannot take the puppy dog eyes.

"Dean-o?" Sammy whispers ever so slightly while shaking Dean's arm.

Dean bites his tongue and pretends he didn't hear anything.

"Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaan?" Sammy comes back much louder than before while violently shaking Dean's left arm and a large part of the mattress, all in an attempt to get his brothers attention.

Dean counts to 10 and then very slowly wiggles around and says "Sammy?" without looking at his little brother.

"Dean, I can't believe you did this to me." Sammy pouts.

Finally, Dean looks up and almost looses it when he sees all the damage the rubber bands have done to his little brother's long locks. They are so knotted, they most certainly will need to be cut out of his hair. Sammy must have done a lot of tossing and turning last night in his sleep, and most of his hair is caught painfully in the rubber bands.

Dean bites his lip to keep from laughing at Sammy and says, "Sammy, what have to done to your hair? Is that the latest style now-a-days? It must have taken you a long time to get that just right. And, by the way, I love that color eye shadow on you, is it from the Max Factor spring line?" Nonetheless, a small giggle falls from his lips as he turns his head to look anywhere in the room, besides at his clown-faced brother with the screwed up hair.

"Dean, what have I ever done to you to deserve this?" Sam challenges.

"Oh no, you did not just go there. Do you want the list alphabetically or by severity of the offense? Besides, it would take me half the day to tell you everything you have ever done that has led up to this moment." And then he proceeds to laugh so hard, he literally falls off the bed.

"Dean, the face paint, while being creative and somewhat frightening for me to see looking back at me from the mirror, is fairly harmless and can just be washed off, but the rubber bands in my hair? What were you thinking? How the hell am I supposed to go to school Dean? I certainly can't go like this. Can I? CAN I???" The last question practically screamed at his brother.

"Calm down, short stuff, we'll take care of it. No worries." Dean gets up and heads to the john. "Just give me a sec to drain the main vain and I will be right with you."

"Dude, don't ever refer to little Dean as the "main vain" again, you could end up scarring me for life. Well, at least more so than I currently am." Sam replies.

About 15 minutes later, Dean re-enters the bedroom to find his little brother sulking on his bed with tear stains trailing down his pudgy cheeks. Dean goes over and sits down next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean, it's no use. The rubber bands won't come out. You are going to have to cut them out. Dad told you to do this, didn't he? He has been hounding me for months about getting a haircut. This is you guys sick way of making me cut my hair, isn't it?" Sammy sniffs while wiping his runny nose on the sleeve of his pajama top.

"Sammy, don't blame this on dad. It was all my idea. You have really been getting on my nerves lately, and I just thought it would be a funny prank to play. I didn't realize you would get so upset."

"Dean, I'm 12, dorky, and self-conscientious. . . After the Nair incident a few years ago, and now this, you have to promise me that you will never do another prank that will mess with my hair again. Do you promise?" Sam begs while giving Dean the full force of the puppy dog eyes.

"Awe man, not the puppy dog eyes. I'll do whatever you ask, just no more puppy dog eyes. I promise, okay?"

"Deal, lets shake on it and then for god sake, help me get these stupid rubber bands out."

"Deal little bro. Let me go get the scissors."

Author's notes: I have a few different ideas for pranks the boys could pull on each other. I will have each prank as a different chapter. Please read/review and let you know your thoughts. Reviews are almost as good as chocolate.