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Chapter name borrowed from Alice Cooper.

I couldn't resist adding a little fluff.

Angsty, but fluff all the same. ;)

Lyrics borrowed from Shinedown.

Stare in wonder, who's here to bring you down?

Find your martyr, I'm sure you've made the crown

So light a fire under my bones, so when

I die for you; at least I'll die alone.

CHAPTER THREE- CAN'T SLEEP, CLOWNS WILL EAT ME

We stood by the funeral pyre silently.

The only light came from John's burning body.

Sam was near tears.

It was Dean I was worried about; he stared woodenly into the flames.

"Before he…" Sam choked on his words.

"Before, did he say anything to you? About anything?"

Dean averted his gaze. "No. Nothing."

He turned on his heel, leaving Sam alone.

The minute Dean went away, Sam fell apart, the tears coursing down his cheek.

I wanted to hug him, but couldn't quite summon up the courage.

Sam decided for me.

He flung his arms around me, and I instantly wrapped mine around him.

I hugged him tightly, hating the tears that soaked my shirt.

"Ssh," I squeezed tighter. "It's gonna be alright, Sam."

I closed my own eyes as I remembered the day I'd lost everything.

I couldn't let Dean or Sam go the way I had.

I was too far gone.

They weren't.

I remembered John's last words to me.

Take care of my boys, you hear me?

I would.

I had to.

~Supernatural~

Bobby watched sadly from the front porch as Dean worked furiously on the Impala.

Sam and I made our way down to him.

"How's the car coming along?" Sam bounced back on his heels, expression uncertain.

"Slow," Dean grunted.

"Yeah?" Sam paused. "Need any help?"

Dean dropped something heavily, snorting derisively.

"What, you under a hood? I'll pass."

I wished I could help Dean, but I knew all he would do was push me away.

"Need anything else, then?" Sam hovered helplessly.

Dean pushed himself out from under the car and stood up.

"Stop it, Sam."

"Stop what?" Sam sounded hurt, and I squeezed his hand once before letting go.

Dean glowered. "Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise."

We both knew he was lying.

"Alright, Dean, it's just…." Sam's breath hitched. "We've been at Bobby's for over a week now, and you haven't brought up Dad once."

Dean kicked away his toolbox.

"You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry and hug. Even slow dance while we're at it."

Sam huffed. "Don't patronize me, Dean, Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of it, and you're acting like nothing's happened."

Dean glared at him.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Say something, alright?" Sam blinked rapidly. "Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried under this damn car!"

Dean exhaled heavily. "Revenge, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds good," Dean smiled mirthlessly.

"You got any leads on where the demon is? Making head or tail 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."

He looked away from us.

"We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? I can work on the car."

Dean crouched back down by the car again, ignoring us.

"Well, we've got something, alright?"

Sam pulled out a cell phone.

"It's what I came by here to tell you," He added.

"This is one of Dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this."

Dean took the phone reluctantly.

"John, it's Ellen," A woman's voice drawled. "Again. Look, don't be stubborn; you know I can help you. Call me."

"That message is four months old," Sam said pointedly.

Dean's eyebrow quirked up.

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?"

"Yeah."

"Well, who's Ellen?" Dean handed back the phone. "Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"

"No," Sam sighed. "But I ran a trace on her phone number and I got an address."

Dean stood up.

"Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars."

~Supernatural~

The mini-van was poorly maintained, and I twitched uncomfortably as we pulled up outside the Roadhouse Saloon.

"This is humiliating," Dean eyed the van balefully.

"I feel like a friggin' soccer mom!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's the only car Bobby had running."

We looked around.

"Hello? Anybody here?"

"Hey," Dean looked back at Sam. "You bring the, uh-"

"Of course," Sam tossed it to Dean.

We opened the door and went inside.

The saloon was quiet.

A light bulb blew out.

We went back, and I started in surprise as I saw a man passed out on the bar.

Sam moved closer.

"Hey, buddy?"

He paused.

"I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

"Yeah."

Sam went into a back room, and I followed Dean down the steps.

We both froze as something grabbed me from behind, and pressed a gun to Dean's back.

"Oh, god, please let that be a rifle," Dean cursed loudly.

The gun cocked, and I struggled uselessly against the pretty blonde girl.

"No," She said. "I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move."

"Not moving, copy that," Dean grinned. "You know, you should know something, miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do….."

He turned fluidly, grabbing the rifle and cocking it.

"That."

The girl punched him in the face, taking back the rifle.

Dean doubled over, clutching his nose.

I jerked against the girl's tight grip.

"Sam!" Dean called. "Need some help in here."

He muttered sullenly.

"I can't see, I can't even see."

The back door opened and Sam walked in, hands on his head.

He entered slowly.

"Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a little…. tied up."

He indicated an older woman, probably Ellen, standing behind him with a handgun pointed at his head.

"Sam? Dean? Winchester?"

"Yeah," They said together.

"Son of a bitch," She said.

"Mom, you know these guys?" The blonde raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys."

She lowered the gun, laughing.

"Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo."

Jo lowered her's as well, and Dean smiled at her.

"Hey."

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" Dean eyed her warily.

Ellen finally noticed me as she handed Dean a towel filled with ice.

"Who's this?"

I opened my mouth at the same time Dean said: "A friend."

Sam and Dean shuffled me behind them.

I blinked uncertainly.

"Hi. I'm Odette."

Ellen smiled at me warmly, and Jo winked.

Dean relaxed slightly.

"You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?"

"Well, the demon, of course," Ellen rolled her eyes.

"I heard he was closing in on it."

"What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" Dean demanded.

"I mean, who, who are you? How do you know all about this?"

"Hey, I just run a saloon," Ellen shrugged.

"But hunters have been known to pass through now and again, including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean crossed his arms. "How come he never mentioned you before?"

"You'd have to ask him that."

"So why exactly do we need your help?"

Dean was distinctly unfriendly.

"Hey, don't do me any favors," Ellen took back the towel from Dean.

"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.

"He didn't send you."

Dean looked down, then back at Sam.

"He's all right, isn't he?"

Sam coughed.

"No. No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess."

Ellen sobered up.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Dean turned away. "We're all right."

"Really?" Ellen's tone was skeptical. "I know how close you and your dad were."

"Really, lady, I'm fine," Dean said shortly.

I pulled him away, slightly.

"So, look," Sam spoke up quickly. "If you can help, we could use all the help we can get."

"Well, we can't," Ellen mused. "But Ash will."

"Who's Ash?"

Ellen cupped her hands around her mouth. "Ash!"

The man passed out on the bar jerked awake, flailing wildly.

""What?" He asked grumpily. "It closin' time?"

"That's Ash?" Sam looked at him doubtfully.

"Mm-hmm," Jo grinned. "He's a genius."

I brought out the brown folder, slapping it down on the table where Sam and Ash were sitting.

Dean stood behind them unhappily.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dean scoffed.

"This guy's no genius, he's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."

"I like you," Ash said good-humouredly.

"Thanks, I guess," Dean blinked.

"Just give him a chance," Jo said from the other side of the room.

Dean sat down, dragging me next to him.

"All right. This stuff's about a year's worth of our dad's work, so, uh, let's see what you make of it."

Ash pulled out the papers and rifled through them.

He shook his head in disbelief.

"Come on. This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this."

"Our dad could," Sam spoke quietly.

Ash whistled.

"There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean…. damn! They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon."

"Can you track it or not?" Sam leant back in his chair.

"Yeah, with this, I think so." He noticed me, momentarily distracted.

"Hey, beautiful."

Dean growled, annoyed.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Hi."

Seeing Dean's glare and Sam's frown, Ash stopped talking.

"It's gonna take time, uh, give me…. fifty one hours."

He got up to leave.

"Hey, man?" Dean glanced at his mullet.

"Yeah."

"I, uh, I dig the haircut."

Ash grinned. "All business up front, party in the back."

As he left, Jo walked by, flirting with Dean.

He checked her out tiredly.

Even as he got up to follow her, I could tell his heart wasn't in it.

Sam focused on something behind the bar.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?"

She looked up.

"The folder? Uh, I was gonna give this to a friend of mine, but take a look if you want."

Someone had scrawled over it in red marker.

'COUPLE MURDERED

CHILD LEFT ALIVE

MEDFORD, WISC.'

"Hey, Dean!" I called.

"What?" He asked testily.

"A few murders," Sam gestured to Ellen's folder. "Not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of. Looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah. So?" Dean was curt.

"So, I told her we'd check it out."

~Supernatural~

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dean shook his head. "A killer clown?"

"Yeah," Sam flipped open his laptop.

"He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually."

"And this family was at some carnival that night?" Dean cocked an eyebrow.

"Right," I leafed through the pages. "The, uh, Cooper Carnivals."

"So how do you know that we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?"

"Well, the cops have no viable leads," Sam added.

"All the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."

"Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam." Dean waggled his eyebrows knowingly. "Why did it have to be clowns?"

"Oh, give me a break," Sam groused, flushing slightly.

Dean laughed.

"You didn't think I'd remember, did you? I mean, come on, you still bust out crying whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the television."

I chuckled quietly, stopping only when Sam scowled at me.

"Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying," Sam retorted crossly.

I looked curiously at Dean.

"Planes crash!" He said defensively.

"And apparently clowns kill!" Sam returned.

Dean changed the subject.

"So, these types of murders, they ever happen before?"

I looked down at the folder again.

"Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales."

Dean huffed. "It's weird, though, I mean if it's a spirit it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know, a house, or a town."

"So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam chewed his lip thoughtfully.

"Cursed object, maybe," Dean shrugged. "Spirit attaches itself to something, and, the, uh carnival carries it around with them."

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

"Well, this case was your idea, Samsquatch." Dean turned around to look at him.

"By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on the job."

"So?"

"It's just….. not like you, that's all," Dean cleared his throat.

"I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know," Sam sighed. "I just think, this job, it's what Dad would have wanted us to do."

"What Dad would have wanted?" There was a definite bite to Dean's voice.

"Yeah. So?"

"Nothin'," Dean pressed the ignition.

~Supernatural~

We pulled up outside the carnival.

"Check it out. Five-oh," Dean pointed at the detectives.

Sam stood with his hands in his pockets as a three-foot tall woman in a clown outfit passes him.

He twitched nervously.

Dean sauntered up, grinning.

"Did you get her number?"

Sam snarled irritably. "More murders?"

"Two more last night," Dean turned serious. "Apparently, they were ripped to shreds. And they had a little boy with them."

"Who fingered a clown," Sam glared at Dean.

Dean paused, shooting Sam an odd look.

"What?" He snapped.

"Yeah, a clown, who apparently vanished into thin air."

~Supernatural~

We walked into the nearest tent.

"Excuse me," Dean looked at the man throwing knives.

"We're looking for a Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?"

"What is that, some kind of joke?"

He pulled off his sunglasses.

The man was blind.

"Oh. God, I'm, I'm sorry," Dean ground his heels into the ground.

"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?"

Dean nudged Sam.

"Wanna give me a little help here?"

"Not really," Sam smirked.

Another employee came up.

"Hey, man, is there a problem?"

We turned and saw an extremely short man in a red cape.

"Yeah, this guy hates blind people."

"No, I don't, I…." Dean stammered.

"Hey, buddy, what's your problem?" The short man demanded.

"Nothing," Dean's voice rose in pitch, "It's just a little misunderstanding."

"Little!" His nostrils flared. "You son of a bitch!"

"No, no, no, no!" Dean looked around wildly. "I'm just, could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is?"

Sam started laughing.

"Please?"

~Supernatural~

Dean finally got away from the irate employees, giving us a dirty look.

"What took you so long?"

"Long story," Dean snapped. "Big help you were back there, by the way."

Sam opened his mouth to answer, when the little girl standing next to us jumped up and down excitedly.

"Mommy, look at the clown!"

We turned sharply to where the girl was pointing.

"What clown?"

There was nothing there.