**Here's the next update! Hope everyone loves it! I really loved this episode when I was watching the series, and I hope I did it justice in this! Please review! I really do love reading them! Tell me what you think!**

Everybody Loves A Clown

I stood between Sam and Dean, staring at the body that we'd placed atop the dry firewood, with my head on Dean's shoulder while his arm was wrapped tightly around my waist. Time seemed meaningless as the three of us just stood, watching, frozen. Finally, Dean took the lighter gently from my unmoving fingers and lit the match. Originally, I was going to set the match, but now that we were here, I couldn't make myself do it. Dean stepped foreword to set the pyre ablaze, his arm slipping from my waist and his hand finding mine briefly before he returned to his former place as if nothing had changed. No one spoke as John's body burned.

Dean had been unusually stoic and quiet since we'd left the hospital with John's body, and it was worrying me more than I wanted to admit. I'd cried when he died, but the past few days had been a blur of me comforting Sam and Bobby and even Max and Jez. I'd called her as soon as John had died; she'd been surprisingly hurt by the news. I hadn't expected her to be; they weren't that close. An airy sob brought me back to reality, and I glanced to my right to see tears rolling unchecked down Sam's cheeks. The sight felt like another dagger piercing my heart to join the arsenal that was already lodged there. I reached out tentatively to take his hand and give it what I hoped was a reassuring squeeze. His hand tightened around mine, and I didn't retract it, knowing that both of us needed the comfort right now.

"Before he…" Sam's voice grew too choked to continue speaking. "Before he…" He tried again, and I gave his hand another squeeze, causing his eyes to flick to me before back to the fire. "…Did he say anything to either of you? About anything?"

"No. Nothing," Dean answered, his voice as impassive as his face. I rested my forehead against his shoulder as my mind flew back to John's words. If you can't take care of them anymore, you have to leave them.

"No," I echoed the syllable emptily. Telling them what John had said wouldn't do either of them any good, and it didn't matter either way. No matter what happened, I wouldn't leave them.

One Week Later

I rested my elbows on the porch, the ice cold beer growing warm between my hands as I listened to the sound of Dean working on the car. Usually, I'd be out helping him, but I was on a lunch break right now. I was worried about him. It had been a week and all he'd done was work on the Impala, which was still in unrecognizable shape, and drink, only stopping occasionally to eat. What was worse, he acted as if he was fine.

"You know, there was a time when I would've given anything for you to look like that when thinking of me," I looked up to see Maxwell standing behind me with his arms folded across his chest.

"Hey," I greeted softly, turning back to face the junkyard. Max had been a good friend this past week, and he'd told us he'd stay at Bobby's until we got back on our feet.

"He'll be fine," I sighed heavily at Max's confident words, for I knew the confidence was fake just like I knew he knew Dean was acting weird. Instead of being his usual, jerk self to Max, Dean had just been indifferent towards him, only acknowledging the man when absolutely necessary.

"I'm worried about him," I admitted. There was no point in keeping it hidden from Max; he probably knew already anyways.

"You worry too much," He informed me, resting his elbows next to mine on the porch railing while I managed a small, soft laugh at his analysis of me.

"Cons of living with the Winchesters," I shrugged, not able to tear my eyes from the junkyard where Dean was working endlessly on the car.

"Yeah," Max agreed quietly, and we fell into a small silence. A creak behind us caused me to turn to see Sam standing there.

"Sam," I straightened at his appearance.

"Hey, are you doing alright?" I gave him a look with pursed lips that caused his lips to turn upwards slightly. " Right, I promised to stop asking you that question. Well, I'm going to talk to Dean. He's been out there all day," I could hear the worry laced in Sam's voice, and I nodded, not really sure that was the best thing for either of them but going with it anyway.

"I'm going to help Bobby with the hunt he's researching," Max excused himself as I turned back to the junkyard. I shut my eyes as Sam passed me, heading through the junkyard. I knew it was wrong, but at this point, I didn't care. Dean hadn't spoken about John or the demon in a week, and it was scaring me how well he was taking it.

"How's the car coming along?" I heard Sam question as he walked up to the Impala.

"Slow," Dean's response was accompanied by the mechanic clink of what I thought was probably a wrench.

"Yeah? You need any help?" Sam asked just as there was a metal clank of something, presumably part of the car, hitting the cement.

"What - you under a hood? I'll pass," A note of dull amusement entered Dean's voice. "Do you know when Mel's coming back out?" I should probably go back soon.

"She's finishing her beer. Probably a minute or so," Sam replied unsurely.

"Tell her to bring me one when you go back, will you?" A small, joyless smile twitched at my lips at those words. At least some things don't change.

"Sure. Need anything else?" There was the squeak of wheels that was Dean rolling out from under the car.

"Stop it, Sam," He told his brother.

"Stop what?" Sam inquired innocently.

"Stop asking if I need anything. Stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay," There was a pause before he added, "Really. I promise," I didn't bother trying to detect if he was lying. I knew Dean better than I knew anyone. That demon was right. Dean was holding in the pain, and it would eat him up inside.

"All right, Dean, it's just… we've been at Bobby's for over a week now, and you haven't brought up Dad or the demon once," I winced at Sam's tactlessness.

"You know what? You're right," Dean started, and I could tell he was holding back anger. "Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we could cry and hug and maybe even slow dance," I sighed. Sam was getting nowhere.

"Don't patronize me, Dean," Sam got angry, and I began walking towards the junkyard. "Dad is dead, the colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened,"

"What do you want me to say?" He shrugged, going back to the car.

"Say something, all right?!" Sam exploded just as they came into view. "Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car,"

"Revenge?" I offered Dean my beer, which he gladly accepted. "How are we supposed to plot our revenge with no leads? Cause we don't," To be honest, I wasn't all that thrilled with the idea of getting right back on that horse and going after the demon. Last time we went head to head with that thing we lost John and we almost lost Dean. I couldn't afford that again. "Besides, like you said, the colt's vanished, so even if we do find the thing, we can't kill it,"

"Exactly, but I'm sure you figured out another way to kill it, right?" Dean's voice dripped with sarcasm. "We got nothing, Sam - nothing, okay? So, you know, the only thing we can do is we can work on the car,"

"Well, we got something, all right?" My eyes found Sam's face in surprise. "It's what I came out here to tell you. It's one of Dad's old phones," Sam explained, pulling a cell out of his pocket and punching in some numbers. "It took me a while but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this," He held it out, putting it on speaker.

"John," A woman's voice came out of the phone, and I frowned at the unfamiliarity of it. "It's Ellen… again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me," Dean and I looked at Sam expectantly.

"That message is four months old," Sam elaborated, and my eyebrows raised in surprise.

"He saved her message for four months?" I questioned skeptically. John usually deleted messages immediately after he heard them. Why would he save this one?

"Yeah," Sam answered, glancing back down at the phone.

"Well, who's Ellen?" Dean asked the most important question. "Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"

"No, but I ran a trace on the phone number, and I got an address," Sam told us, and I sighed, knowing what this would mean.

"I'll go ask Bobby if we can borrow one of his cars,"

Two hours later, Dean was driving a brown minivan down the bumpy dirt road as I sat shotgun, which didn't make the ride much better. In the back were Sam and Maxwell, who'd decided to come with us just in case we needed backup. An extra hunter never hurt even though Dean hadn't liked the idea all too much. Dean parked the car in front of 'Harvelle's Roadhouse' and ripped the keys out of the ignition without bothering to roll up the windows.

"This is humiliating," He grumbled as he tore open the door and got out of the tin can. "I feel like a friggin soccer mom,"

"Agreed," I muttered, getting out the other side and walking around the car to join him as he started towards the roadhouse. "But it's the only car that was working. Be happy we didn't get the beater,"

"She's right. That car's complete junk," Max added, grinning as he ascended the three steps to the porch and bent down to peek through the window. "Hello?" He called with no answer.

"Is anyone here?" Sam didn't get a response either, and I knocked on the door, which earned me nothing.

"Hey, did you bring the - uh," Dean didn't have to finish the thought, for Sam fished a leather bound kit from his pocket and tossed it to me.

"Of course," Was his only response as I picked the lock, opening the door, and the four of us headed inside. There was a loud buzzing to our right that made me jump, but it was just a bug light. I was about to focus my hearing to see if I could find anyone, when my eyes fell on the passed out figure on the pool table.

"Hey," I made my way towards him cautiously with Dean beside me.

"I'm guessing that isn't Ellen," Sam stated the obvious, and I nodded distractedly, reaching out with one finger to lightly poke the limp form. He didn't stir. I whirled around when I heard the familiar cocking of a gun.

"I really hope that's a rifle," My eyes flew to Max as he spoke the words, and I saw a young woman standing behind him, holding a rifle that was pressed against his back.

"No, I'm just real happy to see you," Sam was nowhere to be found, and Max held up his hands in surrender. "Make a move and he gets it," As she spoke her eyes fixed on us before sliding back to the back of Max's head. "You, too. Don't move,"

"Wouldn't dream of it, love," He answered cockily, and I saw the corner of her mouth twitch up in the smile she was fighting. You've got to be kidding me. Max made eye contact with me and winked before turning his head slightly. "You don't threaten people much, do you?"

"What makes you say that?" She replied to the question with a wary question of her own.

"Because when you hold a rifle on someone, you can't have it pressed right against their back. If you do, they can always do…" He spun around quickly, maneuvering the gun out of her stunned grip. "This," He finished cockily, putting the safety back on the gun. She punched him right in the nose, making him jerk back and double over as she snatched the gun back. "Bloody hell," I watched with wide, surprised eyes as he swore, holding his nose.

"I like her," Dean announced with a laugh in his voice. I rolled my eyes at his amused, happy tone, but I couldn't help agreeing with him. She did have spunk, I'll give her that.

"Any help?" Max snapped, glancing expectantly at us. I took a step forward but stopped and shrugged helplessly as she trained the gun on Max again. She wouldn't kill him. Punch him maybe, but not kill him. I could see it in her eyes that she wasn't a killer. "Sam!" He called, and the door to the kitchen was pushed open to reveal Sam with his hands on his head.

"Sorry, I can't. I'm a little tied up," A woman followed him, immediately training another gun on Dean and me as she laid eyes on us. Dean's hand that had frozen around my waist when the girl showed up, now slowly slipped under my jacket to wrap around the hilt of the gun that was hidden there. The older woman's eyes found mine, and hers widened fractionally in recognition.

"Melody? Melody Scott?" I frowned at the way she spoke my name, like she'd known me for a very long time. "Sam? Dean? Winchester?"

"Yeah," I responded for all of us, a clear question in my voice.

"Son of a bitch," She murmured, sounding miffed.

"Mom, you know these guys?" The young woman still holding the rifle on Max asked her mother. Dean let go of the gun and returned his hand to my waist as it became clear that they weren't a threat.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's kids," She then nodded to me. "And that's Jimmy's daughter," She began laughing and lowered the gun, clicking the safety on. "Hey, I'm Ellen," She introduced, and I let out a small breath of relief. "That's my daughter, Jo," Jo lowered the rifle she'd been threatening Max with.

"Hey," She greeted shortly, and Max pulled his hand away from his nose, turning to regard her.

"Not planning on hitting me again, are you?" He questioned, only half joking, and Ellen sighed.

"Sit down, I'll get you some ice," Max took a seat on a stool as Ellen made him a makeshift icepack to hold on his nose.

"You called our dad, said you could help - help with what?" Dean prompted her as we sat on couches and chairs in a rough circle.

"Well, the demon, of course," My eyes fixed on her eagerly as she spoke those words. "I heard he was closing in on it,"

"Was there an article in the Demon Hunter's Quarterly that I missed?" Dean questioned in annoyance. "I mean, how do you know about all this?"

"Hey, I just run a saloon, but hunters have been known to pass through now and again," She grinned, glancing at Jo. So more than now and again. "Including both your dads, a long time ago. John and Jimmy were like family once,"

"Then why didn't either of them ever mention you?" I asked her, wanting to know more information about my dad. I couldn't help it. If there was something else, something people that he was close to, I wanted to know them. It made him seem more alive to me, more real.

"You'd have to ask John that," Her eyes flicked to me with a familiar apology written in them before they returned to Dean. I felt Dean stiffen beside me, and I hooked my pinky through his, wishing I could do more but knowing any more would get noticed by Ellen and Jo.

"So, why exactly do we need your help?" He inquired gruffly, changing the subject from John to the hunt.

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your asses on the way out, but John wouldn't have sent you if…" She stopped short, her eyes boring into ours before she straightened in realization. "He didn't send you," This time I took Dean's hand, lacing my finger's through his as much to comfort him as myself. Dean looked back at Sam before gazing at me and then Ellen again."He's all right, isn't he?"

"No," Max took the question, having been the least torn up by the news of John's death. "We're thinking it was the demon," He spoke, and I took a deep breath, trying not to open the floodgates to all the emotions I'd been surpressing.

"It just got him before he got it, I guess," Sam added, attempting a small smile that looked more like a grimace.

"I'm so sorry," Ellen told us earnestly.

"It's okay. We're alright," Dean spoke for all of us as he answered her condolences.

"Really, I know how close you and your dad-" She started.

"Really, lady, I'm fine," He cut her off.

"Dean," I didn't have the energy to speak his name sharply so instead I said it with a quiet warning, knowing that he was starting to get defensive and we needed to focus on the reason we came here. He looked away from Ellen to fix his eyes on me, and I held his gaze unflinchingly before turning back to the woman. "Look, if you could help we'd be really grateful,"

"Well, we can't," My eyebrows rose at her words. All that build up for that? "But Ash will,"

"Who's Ash?" Max questioned curiously.

"Ash!" Ellen's yell was her only response, and behind us the limp figure that was passed out on the pool table jerked up, flailing around before turning slightly.

"Closing time?" He asked, and she looked back at us.

"That's Ash?" Max inquired incredulously. "No offense, but how's he going to help us?"

"He's a genius," Jo informed us, and my eyebrows rose further. The three boys glanced at me, and I shrugged before getting up and going to the bar to sit beside Ash.

"You got to be kidding me. This guy's no genius," Dean told them skeptically, standing behind me with Max to his left as Sam sat to my right. "He's a lynyrd Skynyrd roadie," Ash let out a small laugh, glancing at Ellen before looking back at Dean.

"I like you," Ash told him, and Dean just grinned.

"Thanks," I shook my head at the two. Men.

"Just give him a chance," Jo cleaned some glasses in front of us as she talked, and Dean shrugged before sitting beside me.

"Alright. Well, this stuff is a year's worth of our dad's work, so let's see what you make of it," Dean slid the heavy file over to Ash, who regarded it with mild curiosity before opening it and leafing through it.

"Come on," He scoffed as he flipped through the pages. "This crap ain't real. Ain't nobody can track a demon like this," My eyes flicked to Dean, and I saw a pride blazing in his eyes.

"Our dad could," Sam's voice held the same pride, and I smiled softly.

"These are nonparametric statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations. I mean… damn. They're signs, omens. If you can track them, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun,"

"Could you track it?" I asked him, and he glanced at me before grinning.

"Yeah, with this, I think so, but it's gonna take time. Give me…" He paused, closing his eyes and doing some sort of mental calculation. "Fifty-one hours," I let out a small, shocked laugh as Ash got up and began walking away. Damn.

"Hey, man," Dean called after him, and he turned. "By the way, I dig the haircut," Ash grinned again.

"All business in the front," He grabbed a piece of his mullet to show us. "Party in the back," He turned and walked to his room as I laughed slightly, shaking my head. I liked him. He had style. It was a weird style, but it was style.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?" I followed Sam's pointed finger to the black device that sat in the back.

"It's a police scanner," She explained. "We keep tabs on things-" She began the explanation, and I glanced up as I heard Max leave the group and head towards Jo.

"No, no, no, no. The folder," Dean stood up as Sam talked, having lost interest in what he was saying, and I hesitated for a moment before letting Dean pull me away from the bar. We walked over to the jukebox, and he put in a quarter, pressing a song. A smile spread across my face as the intro to 'Far Away' by Nickelback came on. I hadn't heard that song in at least two years even though I loved it to no end. I'd heard it for the first time at our junior prom when we'd danced to it.

"Are you serious?" I asked him, not being able to hold in the small laugh.

"Come on. Why not?" With everything that was going on, this had been the last thing I expected Dean to do, but I wasn't about to argue. I rested my hand comfortably on his shoulder, and he placed his on my waist. He let out a breathy chuckle as we started moving slowly to the music with my other hand in his. I felt as though I were back in high school again, and if I closed my eyes and tried, I could pretend that I was. We were slow dancing at the prom, and John was alive and my dad was alive and our lives were as perfect as they would ever be. "Hey," I looked up at him and saw the clear emotions in his eyes. "We're gonna be okay. Whatever happens, you'll always have me. I'm always going to protect you,"

"I know, Dean," I smiled softly at him as he gazed into my eyes. "I'll always be here," It was what he'd wanted to hear, for his face lightened as he smiled genuinely for the first time since John.

"What did I do to deserve you?" He murmured as he rested his forehead on mine.

"Well, someone has to keep you in check, idiot," I whispered, making him laugh quietly, his hot breath brushing my cheek. It was perfect, this moment. I wished I could just freeze it and stay in his arms, right here, forever.

"Lovebirds!" Dean and I looked up at Sam's shout to see him gesturing us over.

"Oh, what now?" Dean grumbled, sounding annoyed, and I reluctantly dropped my hand from his shoulder and headed towards where Sam was sitting at the bar.

"Check this out," We reached Sam at the same time Max did, and I scanned the documents over his shoulder. "A few murders not far from here that Ellen caught wind of - looks to me like there might be a hunt,"

"Yeah, so?" Dean asked, playing dumb to what Sam was trying to say.

"So, I told her we'd check it out," Sam explained, and I felt oddly excited to be hunting again. I glanced up at Max to see him looking torn.

"You coming?" Max's eyes flicked away for a split second, and I followed his gaze to Jo, or, more specifically, Jo's ass.

"No, I'll stay. See if Ash needs any help," Sure. Sam, Dean, and I left the roadhouse in the poor excuse for a car. As Dean drove, Sam explained what the case was about, and I had to admit, I was surprised that he'd chosen this case, especially with his… phobia.

"You got to be kidding me - killer clown?" Dean scoffed in disbelief as I sat in the passenger's seat, flipping through the newspaper clippings.

"Yeah," I nodded, making a face as I reached a particularly graphic picture of the parents. "The daughter was fine, but the clown murdered the parents. Tore them to shreds, as a matter of fact,"

"And this family was at some carnival that night?" Dean checked, and I nodded again.

"Right, right, the Cooper carnival," Sam read over my shoulder as he held the flashlight for me. It was pitch black outside and raining, which meant that whoever was in the back held the flashlight while the person in the passenger's seat studied the case. We'd perfected that a while back.

"How do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carny in a clown suit?" Dean made a good point, and I frowned. We could be, but this didn't feel like a regular murder.

"I don't think so. The cops don't know what happened. The clown just vanished, and all the employees from the carnival were taking it down, meaning alibis,"

"Right, plus the girl actually said she saw the clown disappear into thin air," Sam added, pointing to the section in the notes I'd made. "Cops are saying trauma, of course,"

"Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam - 'why did it have to be clowns?'" I laughed aloud at Dean's jab at the kid. Sammy had what was known as coulrophobia, also known as the fear of clowns.

"Oh, give me a break," Sam complained as Dean joined in my laughter.

"You didn't think we'd remember, did you? Come on, you still bust out crying whenever you see Ronald McDonald on television," Dean joked, and Sam let out an annoyed huff.

"Come on, Dean, leave him alone. I mean, clowns can be very scary with their big smiles and red nose. It's really the stuff of nightmares," Sam groaned, which only made us laugh more.

"At least I'm not afraid of flying," Sam turned the tables on Dean, and I bit my lip as he turned to me. "Or mice," I glowered.

"Planes crash!" Dean defended.

"Mice are evil. Have you never seen the nutcracker?" I pointed out, making Sam snort derisively and Dean laugh.

"Well, apparently clowns kill," Sam made his argument before we returned to going through the file.

"So, these types of murders - they ever happen before?" Dean questioned, getting back to the case.

"Uh, according to the file, 1981, the bunker brothers circus," Sam informed him, and I followed the flashlight beam to the section he was reading.

"It was the same M.O., too. There were three different sets of murders with three different locations," I read, taking in the information as I was speaking it.

"It's weird, though. If it is a spirit, it's usually bound to a specific locale - a house or a town," Dean pointed out logically, and I nodded in agreement.

"So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam asked the question Dean had been getting at.

"Could be attached to an object of some sort? Maybe in the circus?" I suggested, flipping through the pages. "Spirits can attach themselves to anything," I reminded them, even though they already knew.

"Great. Paranormal scavenger hunt," Sam grumbled sarcastically.

"Well, this case was your idea," Despite everything, I was thrilled that we were on a hunt instead of just sitting on our butts doing nothing at Bobby's. "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job,"

"So?" Sam shrugged in answer.

"It's just not like you, that's all," Dean noted, and I bit my lip but didn't speak. "I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt,"

"Well, I think a job'll be good for us," I spoke up when Sam didn't respond. "Besides, we have fifty-one hours to kill," I added. "And I'm pretty sure Bobby was about to kick us out himself if we didn't do something,"

"Exactly. It's what Dad would've wanted us to do," I winced at Sam's word choice.

"What Dad would've wanted?" Dean echoed in surprise.

"Yeah, so?" Sam faced his brother now, and I felt Dean's hand tense in mine before relaxing again.

"Nothing," He replied, turing his attention back to the road, which made me frown. Lately, his face had been guarded, and that worried me. He was never guarded around me, not like he was now. We drove for most of the night before finally arriving at the carnival the next morning.

"Check it out - five-o," I glanced to where Dean had said to see two clowns being interrogated by men in suits and sunglasses. Damn it. Feds. Sam and I went to wait by the spinning chairs while Dean talked to the Feds.

"Something's wrong with him," Sam began as soon as Dean was out of earshot, and I sighed heavily. "I know you've seen it too, Mel,"

"Everyone grieves in their own way, Sammy," I tried to reason as much to convince him as myself. "Give him time. He'll come around,"

"I don't know, Mel. The way he looks at me sometimes… he's not telling us something. He won't talk to me," I knew where Sam was headed, and I didn't like it.

"What do you want me to do, Sam? Force him to talk to me?" I snapped, growing annoyed as much with Sam as with Dean. "He'll open up when he's ready,"

"Fine," Sam sighed in resignation. "I'm just worried about him," He confessed, and I put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I know. Me too," I admitted, my eyes finding Dean, who was talking to the police by the trailers.

"He's lucky he has you," I frowned at Sam's assessment, turning to look at him. It was an odd thing for him to say.

"You both do," I replied, unsurely. "Sam, if you ever need anyone to talk to, you know I'm here," I met his eyes assuredly, and he swallowed, quickly looking away.

"Yeah," The word was clipped and curt. "I just can't believe he's gone, you know?"

"Yeah," I whispered, my gaze falling to my hands. "I know what you mean,"

"I keep expecting him to be there or to call or something," Sam shook his head, and the ache that had been in my heart for over week now grew stronger. I placed my hand comfortingly on Sam's shoulder, and he glanced at me with a small, sad smile.

"We're keeping busy. It's what he would've wanted for us," I tried my best to comfort him. A small woman, who couldn't have been taller than four feet walked by, giving us a glare, and I felt Sammy stiffen beside me, letting out a breath after she moved on.

"Did you get her number?" Dean questioned, coming up beside me as I grinned.

"So, what'd you find?" I prompted, saving Sam from having to come up with a retort, and he shot me a grateful look.

"Two more murders last night. Apparently, they were ripped to shreds, and they had a little boy with them," Dean added, making my heart grow heavy for the kid.

"Who fingered a clown," I made a face, looking up at Sam. That definitely was not the wording he'd wanted. "What?" Sam asked innocently as he caught sight of the looks Dean and I were giving him.

"Yes, a clown, who apparently vanished into thin air," Dean told us, annoyance coating his words.

"Guys, looking for a cursed object, especially in this place where every object is supposedly cursed, is like trying to find a blade of grass in a meadow. It could be anything here," I told them logically.

"Well, it's bound to give off EMF," Dean reasoned. "We'll just have to scan everything,"

"Oh, good. That's nice and inconspicuous," Sam spoke with sarcasm laced through his tone.

"I guess we'll just have to blend in," I know that tone, and I tracked Dean's gaze to the workers that were coming out of the tent carrying boxes of props and costumes, behind them, nailed to a white beam, was a help wanted sign. We walked towards the tent and went inside to see a man throwing knives at a wooden target. He hit the bullseye with every throw.

"Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper. Have you seen him around?" Dean questioned, and his smile dropped as the man turned, revealing his too-dark glasses.

"What is that - some kind of joke?" He took off his glasses to reveal pale blue eyes with white irises. He was blind.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Dean stumbled over his words as the man grew angry.

"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper or a sunset or anything at all," He ranted, and Dean glanced back at Sam and I.

"You want to give me a little help here?" He asked, and Sam grinned.

"Not really," He replied.

"Hey, Barry," A man cut in before I could bail him out. "Is there a problem?" We turned to face the man who was even shorter than the woman we'd encountered a few minutes before.

"Yeah, this guy hates blind people," The man behind us with the knives informed the dwarf.

"No, I don't," Dean tried to deny, but the dwarf wouldn't listen.

"Hey, buddy, what's your problem?" The man demanded, jerking the staff he was carrying at Dean threateningly.

"Nothing. It's just a little misunderstanding," Dean started.

"Little? You son of a bitch," I pressed three fingers against my mouth to stifle the laugh that was struggling to come out. The fact that Sam was quietly snickering behind me didn't help.

"No, no, no! Could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is? Please?" Dean held out a hand to both of them, trying to hold off their attack. They led us to Dean's tent, and I couldn't help laughing a little bit. "That was embarrassing," Dean muttered.

"Oh, come on, Dean," I nudged him with my shoulder as we walked. "It was kinda funny. You have to admit,"

"Fine," His tone lost some of it's bitterness. "Maybe a little," The dwarf turned a glare on him at the term, and I bit back another laugh.

"You three picked a hell of a time to join up," Mr. Cooper greeted us as he walked into his trailer. "Take a seat," He gestured to the two normal seats in front of the desk and the one, wooden clown one. Dean and I hurried into the normal chairs. "We got all kinds of local trouble,"

"What do you mean?" Dean questioned, and Mr. Cooper sighed heavily.

"A couple of folks got themselves murdered, cops always seem to start here first," Mr. Cooper gave a short explanation, and I offered him a strained smile. "So, you three ever work the circuit before?"

"Of course, sir," I took the question, lying easily. "Just last year we went through Texas and Arkansas,"

"Doing what? Ride jockeys? A and S men?" He listed some possibilities that completely went over our heads.

"Little bit of everything, I guess," Sam covered badly, and the man leaned back in his seat.

"You three have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?" He figured it out much faster than everyone else we'd conned before.

"Nope," Dean openly admitted, unashamed. "But we really need the work, and, uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady," I tried desperately to hold in my laugh, but I couldn't quite get a handle on it. Sam glared at him while he laughed, and Dean stopped quickly.

"You see that picture," Mr. Cooper pointed to a picture that hung framed on his wall. "That's my daddy,"

"You look just like him," Sam told him. It was true. They were the spitting image of each other; it was almost eerie.

"He was in the business - ran a freak show till they outlawed them most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So, most of the performers went from hones work rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place is a refuge for outcasts, always has been, for folks that don't fit in nowhere else, but you three… you should go to school, find yourself a family, have 2.5 kids. Live regular," Dean scoffed, and Sam leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Sir…" He began in a deadly serious tone. "We don't want school, and we don't want regular. We want this," The truth rang in Sam's words, making me unsure whether he was talking about working at the carnival or about hunting. Mr. Cooper hesitated for only a moment more before nodding.

"What?" Sam questioned, glancing at us as we left Mr. Cooper's trailer.

"That whole 'I don't want to go back to school' thing - you just saying that to Cooper, or were you, you know, saying it?" My heart sunk as Sam didn't reply to Dean's words.

"Sam?" I prompted him, and he sighed.

"I don't know," He admitted.

"You don't know?" Dean echoed, and it was hard to ignore the undertone of excitement in his voice. "I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to wussy state," I hit Dean's arm, and he gave me his innocent expression.

"I'm having second thoughts," Sam confessed as we paused in our walk.

"What do you mean second thoughts?" I questioned, not sure whether to be happy he was staying or angry he was giving up on school.

"Yeah, I thin… Dad would've wanted me to stick with the job," Dean's expression dropped into one of frustration and annoyance.

"Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted?" Dean asked harshly. "You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam,"

"Since he died, okay?" Sam replied as if the answer was obvious. "You have a problem with that?"

"No," I answered for Dean, placing a hand on each of their chests and pushing them away from each other lightly. "No one has a problem," Dean didn't speak; he just turned and walked off.

-SPN-

"Can't remember the last time I was at a carnival," Dean reflected, his eyes dancing from one attraction to the next as the children laughed as they rode the carousel.

"Freshman year," I reminded him, grinning at the memory, and he laughed.

"You remember that?" I raised my eyebrows and looked at him incredulously.

"Are you kidding? You got us kicked out. It's hard to forget," I shook my head as he laughed again. For a moment, we were engulfed in a comfortable silence before Dean spoke again.

"Maybe I should win you one of those things," He jerked his chin towards one of the stuffed animals hanging on a wall behind a game. I had no doubt that Dean could win me something.

"If only we weren't working," He glanced at me with a grin before shrugging.

"Come on," He set his bag against the dumpster while I stared at him incredulously.

"What about the job?" We both knew I wasn't talking about our carnival janitors job.

"Screw the job. Sam's got it. We're here, let's enjoy it," He turned back to go, and I caught his arm, making him turn back to face me. What I didn't count on, was how close our faces would be when he turned. His eyes dropped to my lips, and he kissed me passionately. As much as I loved the feel of his lips on mine, I couldn't do this any longer. I pulled away and stepped back, frowning at him.

"What's wrong with you?" I couldn't hold in the question any longer, and Dean's eyes widened in surprise.

"Well, that's not exactly the reaction I was hoping for," He smirked, but I couldn't even think about laughing right now. As much as I didn't want to believe it, something was wrong. Dean couldn't hold all that anger inside him forever, sooner or later it was going to kill him.

"Dean, I'm serious. You've been acting weird ever since…" I trailed off, not being able to finish the sentence.

"Go on, say it," I glared at Dean as he egged me on.

"Ever since John died," I obliged, and he looked away from me, grabbing his trash pick up device before going back to what we'd been doing.

"I'm fine," He brushed off my concern, picking up a piece of trash.

"Are you?" He met my eyes again, and his were dark and empty.

"Yes," He answered shortly, and I picked up a water bottle before making my way to the dumpster. Dean held it open while I emptied my bag into it, and then I did the same for him. Before I could say any more, his phone rang loudly. He flipped it open pressing it to his ear.

"Hello?" He answered.

Hey, man. Sam.

"What's the matter? You sound like you just saw a clown," Dean chuckled into the phone, and I frowned. It was almost as if we'd never had the previous conversation at all.

Very funny. Skeleton, actually. He admitted, making me crack a small smile.

"Like a real, human skeleton?" Dean questioned, back to business, and I immediately tensed.

In the funhouse. His explanation made me smile a bit. Listen, I was thinking what if the spirit isn't attached to an object? What if it's attached to its own remains?

"Did the bones give off EMF?" Dean asked as I walked along beside him, heading towards the funhouse.

Well, no, but-

"We should check it out anyway. I'm heading to you," Suddenly, a man caught my arm, and I whirled, my hand automatically reaching back for the switch in my pocket.

"What are you doing here, kid?" It was the blind man from earlier.

"Maintenance," I answered easily as Dean pulled me back, away from the man, who now released my arm.

"Bull," He called me out. "And what were you talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?" I couldn't help but be impressed with this guy's hearing. It was almost as good as mine.

"Dude, your blind-man hearing is out of control," I smacked Dean on the arm. We didn't have time for another episode like in the tent earlier.

"We're a tight-knit group. We don't like outsiders. We take care of our own problems," The man explained defensively.

"We got a problem?" Dean questioned him, rolling his eyes even though the man couldn't see.

"You tell me. You're the one talking about human bones," An idea came to me as the man talked skeptically.

"Do you believe in the supernatural?" Dean turned his eyes on me incredulously.

"What?" The blind man asked in shock.

"Ghosts, demons, all that stuff. Me, my boyfriend, and his brother… we are going to write a mystery novel about them. This one's going to be about a clown, but the catch is that he is a phantom. He murders couples, but leaves the kid unharmed," I went on to explain everything about the clown we were hunting, knowing he'd hear the truth of my words and believe me. For a moment, there was no change, and then the man's face broke into a grin.

"Well, why didn't you say so. We love writers here," I smiled, though he couldn't see me, and Dean and I got out of there as fast as we could, hurrying towards the funhouse.

"What took you guys so long?" Sam inquired impatiently as we reached him.

"Long story," Dean spoke, a bit out of breath.

"Mommy, look at the clown," My eyes snapped to the little girl that had spoken. I walked towards the small girl with pigtails who was pointing in between two trailers.

"What clown?" Her mother asked her, and I stopped when I could see what she was pointing to. Thin air. "Come on, sweetie. Come on," The woman led her daughter away from the trailer.

"It's them," I told Sam and Dean with absolute conviction.

"You're sure?" Sam checked, and I nodded. It was crazy, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that that family was in jeopardy tonight.

"Yeah,"

"Mel, I cannot believe you told Papasian about the homicidal phantom clown," Sam admonished me, and I glanced at him from where I was sitting in the passenger's seat.

"I only told him an urban legend about one. It's not like he believed me," I pointed out, returning my gaze to the house that contained the child from earlier. "Keep that down, so they can't see it," I added to Dean, who had just held up his gun right beside the minivan's window.

"Oh, and get this. She mentioned the Bunker Brothers' Circuis in '81, and their evil-clown apocalypse. Guess what?" Dean grinned at Sam.

"What?" He asked warily.

"Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper carnival, he worked for the Bunker Brother's. He was their lot manager," Dean explained while I kept my attention on the family inside the house.

"So you two think whatever the spirit's attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?" Sam summarized, and I bit my lip. Something was off, like there was still a piece missing.

"No," I shook my head, and Sam glanced at me. "I don't know. I'm not so sure it's a spirit anymore,"

"Well, what else could it be?" Sam asked, and I could only shake my head helplessly.

"I can't believe we keep talking about clowns," Dean grumbled, and I couldn't help but agree with him. It was one of the weirder cases we'd worked. We waited another few minutes, and I started growing tired so I rested my head against Dean's shoulder and fell asleep.

"Hey!" I jerked up as Sam hit my shoulder, and my first thought was of the house. A light was on in the living room, and I shook Dean awake as well. The small child opened the door with a big smile on her face as she held out her hand.

"Want to come in and play?" I heard her ask the clown, who stood on her porch. It nodded it's head and accepted her hand, allowing her to pull him inside. Dean, Sam, and I were out of the car in record time, and I ran around the house to the back where there was a window open. Slipping inside was second nature to me, and I positioned myself against the wall where the child was leading the creature. I would grab her and shield her while Dean and Sam blew the thing to smithereens. They came into view and I snatched the girl up as she screamed, covering her head with my hands as I heard the loud gunshots.

"Mel, watch out!" My head snapped up just in time to see the clown take a step towards me. Dean cocked the gun and aimed it again, apparently causing the clown to rethink his next move. He jumped through the window, disappearing a moment before the glass shattered and a plant fell over on the porch.

"What's going on in here?" A man's voice yelled gruffly, coming into the room. I swore softly, releasing the girl, who was probably traumatized for life.

"What are you doing to my daughter? Get the hell away from her!" Dean grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet, and I sprinted after him and Dean to the car. We drove as far away as we could and parked in the bushes where no one would find the car. It was dawn already by the time we abandoned the car and covered our tracks. Dean zipped the license plate into one of the duffles before slamming the trunk closed.

"You really think they saw our plates?" Sam questioned as I shouldered my duffel, and we started walking.

"Do you really want to take the chance?" I returned the question, and Sam considered it for a moment.

"Besides, I hate this freaking thing anyway," We walked for about a mile before Dean spoke again. "Well, one thing's for sure,"

"What's that?" Sam prompted, glancing back the way we'd come.

"We're not hunting a spirit," I answered for Dean, knowing where his head was at. "Rock salt barely slowed it down,"

"Yeah, a person," Sam suggested. "Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?"

"Yeah, and dresses up like a clown for kicks? Did it say anything in Dad's journal?" I shook my head, and Dean sighed. "Who are you calling?" I glanced at Sam to see he had his phone out and was dialing.

"Maybe Max or Ellen will know something," Sam offered. It was a good idea. "Hey, you think, uh… you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

"No way," Dean denied instantly, and I glanced between the two brothers, deciding to just stay out of this one.

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?" Sam brought up a fair point, and Dean shrugged, not caring what evidence their was to the contrary.

"I don't know. Maybe they had some sort of falling out," Well, that part was true judging by her voicemail.

"Yeah, funny how John had a falling out with pretty much everyone he met," Sam chuckled at my words, and he pressed the phone to his ear before taking it away and hanging up.

"Well, don't get all Maudlin on me, man," Sam told him, and Dean's eyes flicked to him sharply, causing a resigned sigh to escape my lips. Great. Just what we needed to pass the time.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean this strong silent thing of yours, it's crap. I'm over it and so is Mel," Dean glanced at me, but I couldn't meet his eyes so instead I looked out over the farm fields. "This isn't just anyone we're talking about. This is Dad. I know how you felt about the man,"

"You know what, back off, alright? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want-" Dean began in annoyance.

"That isn't what he means, Dean," I finally spoke up, joining the conversation that was quickly becoming an argument. Dean let out a groan.

"Not you too," He complained.

"We don't care how you deal with this, but you have to deal with it, man," Sam tried getting back to the topic that was worrying both of us, but Dean just kept walking. "Listen, we're your family, alright? We just want to make sure you're okay,"

"Dude, I'm okay! I'm okay! Okay? I swear the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues. Quit dumping them on me,"

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, and they stopped walking, forcing me to pause with them.

"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 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," I shoved him back with both hands, standing in front of Sammy. All of a sudden, I was furious with Dean.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snapped at him angrily.

"I just want him to be honest with himself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death, is he?" He yelled before turning his gaze to Sam's face. "Are you?"

"Dean, stop it!" Everything went deadly silent after that, and I slowly looked up at Sam's eyes, shining with unshed tears.

"I'm going to go call Ellen," He told us, struggling to keep the waver out of his voice, but we could all hear it. He turned and walked off without glancing back.

"What the hell was that?" Dean scoffed at my words.

"You're one to talk, Mel. You've barely said two words about the demon or hunting it since that night," Dean snarled at me, and I glared back at him. "When someone else dies, it's devastating, but when it comes to sacrificing yourself, who the hell cares right?" I flinched back at his biting words.

"You don't know what you're talking about," My voice had dropped to a quiet denial, and he scoffed again.

"Rakshasa," Sam returned at that moment, and I blinked back the emotions that were building in my throat.

"Which is?" I prompted, shoving the emotions back down and resuming a cold, collected demeanor.

"Ellen and Max's best guess," Sam answered. "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,"

"So they dress up like clowns, and children invite them in," Dean pieced together. "Why don't they just munch on the kids,"

"Maybe not enough meat? There'd be no point?" I suggested, facing Sam. "What else did she say?"

"Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects," I made a face at that, but it might work in our favor. That couldn't be too hard to find. "And they have to feed a few times every twenty to thirty years - slow metabolism, I guess,"

"Well, that makes sense. I mean, the carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81," Dean listed.

"Right, and most likely more before that," I figured; an idea coming to me. "And who do we know for a fact worked both shows?"

"Cooper?" Dean phrased it like a question but all three of us knew it wasn't. There was no one else it could be.

"You know, that picture of his father, that looked just like him," Sam pointed out.

"You think maybe it was?" Dean offered, and the thought chilled me.

"Never know. If it is him, he could be thousands of years old," I didn't look at Dean as I added to his statement before refocusing on Sam. "Ellen mention how to kill it?"

"Legend goes a dagger made of pure brass," Sam answered, and I thought for a minute.

"I think I know where to get one of those," I turned my eyes on Dean in surprise.

"Well before we go stabbing things into Cooper, we want to make damn sure it's him," Sam pointed out.

"Oh, you're such a stickler for details, Sammy," Dean teased his brother fondly, and Sam smiled, shaking his head.

"All right, you get the blade. Sam and I will check if Cooper's sleeping on dead crawlers," I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, and I didn't meet Dean's eyes as we continued walking.

We reached the carnival just as it was closing, and Sam and I crept silently over to Cooper's trailer. It was easy to avoid people if you just kept to the shadows. That and the fact that we were both wearing too big red windbreakers that showed we were part of the cleaning crew kept us out of trouble. I leaned against the side, picking the lock casually as if it were something I did everyday, which it was. The lock clicked and the door swung open, allowing Sam and me to sneak inside. We knelt beside the bed, and I pulled out the switch blade from my back pocket, flipping it open.

"What do you think you're doing?" Cooper was behind us, and I moved fast, jamming the knife into his bed, but keeping it out of view.

"U-Um… w-we were just…" I trailed off, making my cheeks go red, a trick I'd learned back when I was seventeen. Cooper's mistrusting look cleared as it became obvious what I was implicating.

"Get out," He ordered, and Sam and I were halfway out the door when I was hit with a very bad feeling. I stumbled forward and felt Sam's arms around me, guiding me to the right, away from the trailer.

"Dean," I heard the thunk of a knife hitting wood. "It's the blind guy - Papasian," The feeling passed, and I began to run, somehow knowing Dean was in danger.

"Hey!" Sam called as Dean ran past us. Dean whirled, almost falling as he short stopped.

"You're okay," I breathed, throwing myself at him and hugging him tightly for a moment before releasing him.

"So, Cooper thinks Mel's cheating on you, but it's not him," Sam informed him, and he glanced at me questioningly for a moment before looking back at Sam. Dean looked freaked.

"It's the blind guy, isn't it?" I asked, and Dean didn't bother questioning how I knew that. He just took a step down the road towards where he came from, making sure no one had followed him.

"Yeah. He's here somewhere," He answered breathlessly, keeping his arms around my waist.

"Well, did you get the-" Sam started.

"Brass blades? No. It's just been one of those days," Dean told us, looking around in paranoia.

"I got an idea. Come on," Sam ran off, leaving Dean and I no choice but to follow. He hurried into the funhouse with Dean and I on his tail. We were about halfway through when the hallway suddenly closed, separating Dean from Sam and me.

"Mel! Sam!" I could hear his muffled shouts from the other side of the wall.

"Dean!" I yelled, but I knew we wouldn't be able to get the door open.

"Dean, find the maze, okay?" There was no reply to Sam's yell, and we could only pray that he heard.

"Come on," I pulled Sam away from the wall. Dean would be fine. "We have to keep going. It's trying to mess with our heads," I kept a hold on Sam's jacket, so the creature couldn't separate us. I saw the organ in front of us. The brass organ. "Here," I made a grab for it but jerked back when my hands made contact with the heat. Sam managed to grab it and yank one out.

"Hey," I whirled to see Dean coming through one of the entrances.

"Where is it?" Sam questioned as I pulled another brass pipe from the organ, leaving it to make an odd squeaking noise.

"I don't know. I mean, shouldn't we see his clothes walking around?" No sooner had Dean spoken than a knife came out of nowhere, pinning him to the wall. "Ow!" He let out a yelp as another one came of the air to pin his wrist to the wall. "Sam! Mel!" I ran to Dean, trying with one hand to get the knife out of the wall.

"Behind you!"I whirled just in time to raise the organ pipe and deflect a knife that was headed straight for my heart. I glanced up and grinned, stretching to turn the handle in the right corner above Dean. Fog started pouring into the room, making it hard to see much of anything except that dark shape behind Sam. Without pausing to think, I hurled my organ pipe as if it were a throwing knife. It slammed into the creatures stomach, and it let out an agonized howl. Sam turned, driving the organ deeper into his stomach as Dean turned off the fog. He let go of the organ pipe and it clattered to the floor along with it's clothes. I helped free Dean before we went to stand by Sammy and look down at the clothes on the ground. "I hate funhouses," Dean muttered, and I couldn't' agree more.

"You three did a hell of a job. John would've been proud," Ellen set down four beers in front of us, for Max had just took a seat next to us, Jo leaning on the bar next to him. Ellen disappeared back inside the kitchen, and Max and Jo drifted off to a booth near the back. I couldn't help listening into their conversation; I was curious.

"So, am I going to see you again?" She asked, and I could hear the hope in her voice, which made me smile.

"Is that what you want?" He questioned, and my smile widened as I heard the undertone of hope in his voice as well.

"I wouldn't hate it," She replied before continuing after a moment of silence. "Let me guess, wrong place, wrong time?" He chuckled and she joined in.

"Something like that,"

"Where you guys been? I been waiting for you," Ash came out of his room, and I stopped paying attention to Max and Jo, instead focusing on Ash.

"We've been working a job, Ash," Sam reminded him. "Clowns…?"

"Clowns? What the-?" He started.

"Do you have something for us or not?" I interrupted the profanity he had been about to spill out.

"I sure do," He set his wire-filled device down on the table.

"Did you find the demon?" Sam questioned, and a chill went up my spine at the mention of it. Dean had been right. I hated to even think about what I did.

"It's nowhere around, at least nowhere I can find, but if this fugly bastard raises it's head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like divine on dog dookie,"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, and I was curious to know how his device worked as well.

"I mean, any of those signs or omens appear anywhere in the world, my rig will go off like a fire alarm," He turned what I think was a laptop around to face us.

"You mind?" Dean reached for the keys, and Ash fixed him with a look that could've froze water. Dean's hand retreated slowly.

"What's up, man?" Ash asked in a high pitched voice that made me press my lips together to keep from laughing.

"Where'd you pick up these skills?" I admired the computer, not caring that I was obviously impressed.

"M.I.T., before I got bounced for fighting," He explained.

"M.I.T.?" Sam questioned skeptically, glancing at Dean and I to see if we believed him.

"It's a school in Boston," Ash patronized, and I laughed outright at that.

"Okay, give us a call as soon as you know something?" Dean checked, and Ash grinned.

"Sí, Sí, Compadre," Dean, Sam, and I got up, and Dean took one last swig of his beer before setting it down on the table. We headed towards the door with Max.

"Hey, listen," Ellen's voice made us turn. "If you four need a place to stay, I got a couple of beds out back," She wasn't just offering us a couple of beds, she was offering us a home. I could tell by the look in her eye and the tone of her voice.

"Thanks, but no," Dean replied, smiling not unkindly at her. "There's something I got to finish," I followed Dean out the door, and we got into the car that didn't have a license plate any longer, driving back to Bobby's. As soon as we got there, Dean went back out to fix his car, and I stayed to unpack my stuff.

"He was right," I glanced up at Sam, who was standing in the doorway to Dean and my room, before sighing heavily.

"Sam, like I said, everyone deals in their own way," I'd held Sam right after John had died. I'd held him as he sobbed for the Dad he'd never see again. I never wanted to see him like that ever again.

"So how are you dealing?" The question threw me, and I raised my eyebrows at him. "You know, ever since the hospital I don't think i've seen you cry once. John was as much a dad to you as he was to Dean and I," My gaze dropped to the shirt I'd been folding.

"I don't know, Sam. People die, and life goes on. You can choose to be part of it, or you can choose to shut yourself off and stay stuck in the past. I can't afford to stay stuck in the past, Sam. If I do, it'll kill me," He studied my face for a moment before I finally set down the shirt. "Go talk to him, Sam. He has to snap out of it sooner or later," Sam left the doorway. After a minute or so, I went downstairs and out the door. I had to talk to Dean. I froze when I heard Sam talking ahead of me.

"But neither are you and neither is Mel. That much I know," I leaned on the car, choking back the emotions, and forcing myself into that calm stupor that I knew so well. Suddenly, I heard a resounding clang. I straightened and rounded the corner to see Dean smashing an iron stick into the Impala's window. I stopped a few feet away from the car as he began slamming the iron down on the Impala's trunk over and over again.

"Dean!" I yelled his name, not sure what else to do. His anger scared me beyond belief. The thing fell from his fingers, and he hung his head, leaning his hands on the trunk. I took a hesitant step forward, and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he held me tightly as he shook with sobs. How would we ever be okay again?