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Chapter 4: Everybody Loves a Clown Part 1
One week. Seven days, one hundred and sixty eight hours, ten thousand and eighty minutes and six hundred and four thousand eight hundred seconds. You could spin it any way you wanted. It still seemed unreal. Unreal that only seven days ago the Winchesters and I were standing around that pyre. Watching the flames lick the sky and roar at us as they continued to get bigger and engulf John's body.
Sam was openly letting tears course down his face as the flame reflected in his glass like eyes. "Before…before he…" He couldn't even get the words out. "Did he say anything to you? About anything?"
That was all he really wanted to know. Did his dad say he was proud of them for all the hard work they had done? Proud that they had taken care of me? Happy that Dean had found someone and was at least a little happier than he would be alone? Sorry that him and Sammy fought every time that they came into contact with each other? That he loved them?
"No." Dean's voice was emotionless and I gripped his arm as one single tear fell down his face. "Nothing."
I found that hard to believe.
I lay awake in bed, looking around the room Dean and I shared. We had to come and ask Bobby if we could stay here until the Impala was fixed. I remember showing up on his doorstep, a week ago, and tears pouring down our cheeks, a hazy fog of silence hanging among us as we begged him to let us stay here. He of course obliged; how could he turn any of us away at that point?
The room was cluttered but Dean and I hadn't found the room to complain. It had a bed and that's all we were looking foreword to at that point. I think we nearly slept for two days before Dean worked on the Impala. And that's all he ever did. He woke up, ate something little or near nothing and worked on the car. I brought him lunch, occasionally. He barely thanked me and worked. Then when I went to sleep, apprehension of nightmares keeping me awake till at least twelve, I felt him crawl into bed around three. Some nights even later. Then he'd wake up and do it all again.
We hadn't touched since that night in the woods, the night we set his father's corpse on fire to rest in peace. I don't think he wanted to remember, like somehow I jogged his memory about how things were before. So we didn't touch or kiss or make love. Nothing. None of it. We barely even looked at each other.
I finally realized it was nearly eleven and I needed to get out of bed and take a shower. I kneeled on the bed and looked out the window. Dean was underneath his car, working away. He probably hadn't had anything this morning so I'd make him something and then I'd go take a shower.
I went down the stairs and into the kitchen. There was already coffee made and I decided I'd make some toast for him. The last time I went all out and made pancakes and eggs; it had been a horrible attempt to salvage our relationship, he hadn't touched one bit of it. I didn't think it was a shot at hurting my feelings either. He didn't feel much of anything lately and he wasn't hungry most of the time. So it didn't probably even reach his radar that he'd hurt my feelings. He didn't even notice how I felt anymore.
"Morning." Sam said, coming into the kitchen to grab another cup of coffee.
"Hi." I said quietly, getting bread out of the bag and putting it in the toaster.
Sam got out two other mugs and filled them with coffee. He knew my morning ritual all too well. I smiled slightly at the attempt to help and thanked him. He set the mugs on the table and got a plate for the toast.
"How long as he been out there?" I asked him, hearing the mechanical pops of gears and twisting under the hood.
Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I think he slept for like an hour."
I shook my head and pushed the button for the damn bread to go farther into the toaster. Damn thing was broken and every so often you had to push the toast back down in the machine.
"You okay?" He asked me.
I shook my head no. This was also part of my morning dance with people. I'd wake up, Sam would help me make the breakfast Dean wouldn't eat, he'd ask me if I was okay and I'd find small tears making their way down my cheeks.
I felt him come up behind me and put his arms around me. He rested his lips against my head and left a small kiss there. I remember the first time he'd done that small alarms had gone off in my head and I almost pushed him off. Dean and I hadn't broken up with each other even though anyone could tell how broken each of us were. Two broken pieces never made a whole. But now I felt comforted by the little touch and kiss each morning. It was all I ever got anymore. If Dean noticed he never said anything about it. He didn't care anymore. About me, about himself. Nothing seemed to peak his interests except his stupid car.
The toast popped up, making both of us jump. I took it out of the toaster; it was burnt on one side. I put it on the plate Sam had put on the table, burning the pads of my fingers while doing so.
"Would you carry the coffee for me?" I asked him. It was a simple plea to come outside with me.
He nodded. "Of course."
We headed outside, approaching him slowly, like suddenly he'd turn around and wail a crowbar at us. But I knew he wouldn't. He didn't show that emotion anymore. He didn't show anything.
"How's the car comin' along?" Sam asked and placed the coffee in an empty spot on his tool cart.
"Slow." He pulled himself out from under the car and stood up to approach us.
"I made you toast." I said, holding the plate in my hand. My plan was to show him that his whole attitude of his wasn't hurting me. That ignoring me wasn't going to make me go away.
"Great. Just set it over there." He said, motioning near the coffee.
He didn't look at me when he said it. He looked at the toast and the plate and the ground and his shoes and everything that wasn't me. It made me break into smaller pieces inside but I did as I was told.
"Yeah? Need any help?" Sam asked him.
Dean smirked. But even that was twisted now. "What, you under a hood? I'll pass."
"Need anything else then?" I asked him.
Dean shook his head. "Stop it, Andy." Wow. I felt like re-introducing himself to his emotions. That one was called anger. It was the most effort he put toward me in seven days.
"Stop what?" I probed. I wondered how far I could push him until rage showed up.
"Stop askin' if I need anything, stop askin' if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise."
He walked past me and the movement made me shudder. I wondered if he was ever going to touch me again and if he did what it would feel like. There were only so many times I could close my eyes and feel the phantom touches from before. The breath tickling my skin and the soft lips all over my body. If I did it again I would go insane with missing him.
"All right. Dean, it's just…we've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you haven't brought up Dad once." Sam pried carefully.
I felt like running myself into him and then he'd have no choice but to touch me. Prying me off of him and throwing me aside was better than nothing at all.
"You know what, you're right." Dean said, his voice full of irony. That emotion was called sarcasm. "Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug –- maybe even slow dance." His mouth tugged and a small smile played over his face and for a moment I saw the old Dean. The one that used to be mine.
"Don't patronize me, Dean, Dad is dead!" Sam screamed. Dean's face went straight back to that emotionless barrier he loved so much. But I could see right through it. That emotion was called grief. "The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're actin' like nothin' happened."
"What do you want me to say?" He asked, tired.
Something suddenly boiled inside of me and I found myself knocking the coffee mug over. The coffee splattered against the dusty ground and the mug shattered into bitty pieces. It resembled me and Dean. "Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge?" I asked him but my voice was begging. "But all you do is sit out here all day long, buried underneath this damn car!"
He smirked again but it was a different emotion. It was something caught between amusement and anger again. "Revenge, huh? Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is?" He asked me.
I wanted him to look at me. Just once. I wanted his hazel eyes to look into my deep blue ones. But he didn't, he knew what he'd feel if he did. That emotion was called remorse and he was working so hard to avoid it. "The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothin'. Nothin', okay? So you know what? The only thing I can do is I can work on the car." He spat, motioning to his broken baby. It was loosing its shine, just like he was.
"Well, we've got somethin', all right?" Sam spoke up. "That's what I came out here to tell you."
He took a cell phone out of his pocket and gave it to Dean. "It's one of Dad's old phones. It took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code."
I remembered Sam had mentioned working on that phone a few days ago. That's all he ever did. Dean worked on the car, Sam on the phone and I laid in bed thinking of me and Dean. I guess we all had our obsessions.
"That message is four months old." Sam said.
I remembered four months ago.
He suddenly bolted from around the bed after me and I squealed as I avoided him grabbing me. I ran into the bathroom as fast as I could but he caught up to me and shoved into the bathroom as well. He slammed the door shut and grabbed me by the waist. I moved into his touch and he landed against the closed bathroom door. I turned and placed my hands over his chest and he put his arms around me tightly. He felt so warm and soft; I never wanted to stop touching him. I pushed my lips against his and his hands found their way into my hair and breaching into my shorts near my sides.
"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean asked, handing back the phone. He interrupted my thoughts completely. I wondered if he even remembered days like that at all. Or was he trying to forget everything at once? Would he wake up one day and not recognize me?
Sam nodded and Dean put one of the tools down to pick up another. "Well, who's Ellen? Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"
"No. But Andy ran a trace on the phone number, and she got an address."
After a moment of looking between the car and Sam he finally spoke up. "Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars."
That emotion was called distressed.
O0o0o0o0o
We pulled up outside a bar called Harvelles's Roadhouse. I prayed to God they served booze this early. I was in serious need of a beer.
"This is humiliating." Oh, Bingo. Another emotion. "I feel like a friggin' soccer mom!"
"It's the only car Bobby had running." Sam said with a roll of his eyes.
I was with Sam. Who the hell cared what kind of car, or in this case, beaten down van we were driving. No one ever knew us or remembered us when we were on the road. No reputation to up hold.
"It's just a car Dean. Who gives a shit, okay?" I grumbled, gaining a glare from him. It wasn't to me though, just to the space in front of him. God forbid he looks at me to give me an angry glare. I guess that was against his rules.
We went to the front of the car and looked around the outside for a moment. They were obviously closed but that didn't really stop us from not entering. We were always neglectful to Do not Enter signs and closed down buildings.
"Did you bring the, uh…?"
I nodded and opened my jacket to pull out the lock picking kit and tossed it to Sam. "Of course."
We entered the bar and it was completely empty except for a random guy sleeping on a pool table.
"I'm guessin' that isn't Ellen." Sam wisecracked and I smirked.
Sam went to look in another room while Dean and I moved around the bar. There were a lot of pool tables and tables in general. They still all had bottles on the tables and I guessed the guy asleep hadn't finished picking up before he took his nap. I went around the bar and kneeled down to look through the booze. Hell I was there, I might as well drink something.
Suddenly I heard Dean's feet stop moving and he swore. "Oh, God, please let that be a rifle."
I looked up confused and saw a pretty blonde holding a riffle to his back.
"No, I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move." She quirked.
Oh she was so going to get her face plowed in. I took the gun out from the waist band of my jeans and snuck out from behind the bar and right behind her.
"Mind pointing the gun where you won't hurt yourself?" I asked kindly, putting my own gun behind her head.
She hesitated and moved the gun from Dean's back. Dean turned and took the gun from her, un-cocking it.
She suddenly rammed her fist forward and I couldn't help an amused gasp as she punched Dean in the nose. Dean dropped the gun and she re-grabbed it, turning to me. Before she could do anything however, I brought my foot up and slammed the gun out of her hands.
"Sam! I need some help in here!" Dean yelled, holding his nose.
The girl and I continued to spar as she lunged at me, knocking my gun out of my hands as well. Honestly, I was impressed but I felt the need that I just should have shot her when I had had the chance.
"Sorry, Dean. I can't right now. I'm, uh…a little tied up." I saw Sam come into the room with his hands above his head and another woman had a gun to his head.
She stopped for a moment though, seeming to realize something. Although at that point I wasn't paying attention and the girl lunged her fist at me hitting me along my jaw line.
"Jo." The woman said. "Stop.
I groaned in pain as the woman laughed. "Sam and Dean Winchester?" Dean and Sam exchanged glances and said yeah at the same time. She laughed again. "I think these are John Winchester's boys." She lowered her gun. "Hey, I'm Ellen. That's my daughter, Jo."
Jo looked at me and shrugged. "Hey."
I felt like pulling her fake blonde hair out as she turned and smiled at Dean. He looked at her; straight in the eyes. It made me jealous beyond all belief because Dean wouldn't even look at me. "You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" He asked her.
I felt my jaw and sat on one of the bar stools as Sam and Dean joined me. "Can I have a beer? Or a shot of rat poison?" I asked that last bit quietly and full of sarcasm.
She nodded and got me out a beer from the fridge, along with ice. Sam shifted in his seat next to me and rolled the ice in a cloth as Ellen put ice in front of Jo for Dean. I saw Jo sit next to Dean and he smiled at her slowly as she handed him the ice. I didn't know if it was just a shot at me; that he was flirting with her because he knew it made me squirm in my seat. Or just because he knew he could do it. Because it made him feel something when he did. That emotion was called horniness. At least he remembered how to do something that reminded me of his old self. He knew how to excite his member. It just had nothing to do with me anymore.
"Ouch Sam." I hissed, making Dean tip his head towards our direction. In my seething moments Sam had picked up the ice and placed it on my jaw.
He winced and squeezed my hand. "Sorry."
"Sorry about the ol' smack to the jaw hunny." Jo apologized. But it wasn't really in her voice. Her tone was full of mockery. I wanted to get up and let her try and do it again knowing full well that she wouldn't get that kind of chance again.
"It's okay." I said, the smile lighting my words. "Sorry I didn't get to repay the love tap."
Dean cleared his throat and looked towards Ellen. "You called our dad and said you could help –- help with what?" It was almost cute. He was already sticking up for his new girlfriend.
"Well…the demon, of course. I heard he was closing in on it." Ellen said, handing me the beer it seemed to take her fifteen minutes to open.
"Was there an article in The Demon Hunter's Quarterly that I missed?" Dean asked. That emotion was called agitation. "I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"
"Hey, I just run a saloon." Ellen said, trying to stick up for herself. If she took that long to open beers the way she did mine she wouldn't be open for much longer. People would die of thirst. "But hunters have been known to pass through now and again, including your dad a long time ago."
"So why exactly do we need your help?" Dean asked, just wanting a damn answer already. That emotion was called impatience. He was feeling emotions all right, just all the wrong ones.
I took a big gulp of the beer, letting it cool my throat as Sam continued to hold the ice to my face.
"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 trailed off, her radar kicking into high gear. "He didn't send you." Sam and Dean looked down sadly and I just wanted to swear and comment on how perceptive she was. "He is all right, isn't he?"
Sam shook his head since Dean was caught up in the emotion of denial. "No. No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um...just got him before he got it, I guess."
"I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. We're all right." Dean said.
I scoffed. "Speak for yourself." I said quietly and I felt Dean grit his teeth in annoyance.
Sam spoke up, not wanting any subject to be pressed. But maybe that's what needed to be done. Maybe buttons needed to pressed until something happened. "So, look, if you can help…we could use all the help we can get."
"Well, we can't. But Ash will."
Sam took the ice off my face and looked at the small bruise on my jaw. "Who's Ash?" I asked.
Suddenly, the man that was sleeping on the pool table jerked awake and looked around the bar, startled. I chuckled, entertained. He was in dirty jeans and a long red and black flannel and his hair was fashioned in a very long mullet.
"That's Ash?" I asked.
Jo smiled at me. "Mm-hmm. He's a genius."
O00o0o0o
A few minutes later Dean spilled out John's file on the demon on the bar table. It contained everything he had ever learned about the demon. I took a sip of my third beer. All the good that folder never did for him. I shook my head and moved a seat over so Sam could sit closer to Ash and Dean.
"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 opened the folder and started looking through it. "Come on. This crap ain't real. Ain't nobody can track a demon like this."
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Our dad could." Sam informed him.
"These are nonparametric statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations."
I raised my eyebrows. "Did he really just say that or is that the beer talking?" I asked.
Sam smiled but didn't answer me and Ash continued. "I mean…damn. They're signs –- omens. If you can track 'em, you can track this demon –- you know, like crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun."
"Can you track it or not?" Sam asked.
Ash nodded, collecting the papers in his arms. "Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time. Uh, give me…" He paused, thinking. "Fifty-one hours."
Dean and Sam looked at each other stunned for a moment as he walked away and then Dean got up to head over to where Jo was. I watched for moment and then turned back to take a huge gulp of beer.
It was half empty and the finishing of it would make me slightly tipsy. Which was better than sober at the moment. Anything was better than sober.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" Sam asked me, concerned.
If he kept talking to me that softly I was afraid my eardrums would burst. "I was thinking of having one more." I said sloppily.
"Andy, you know that's not going to help anything." He said as if reading my mind.
I just looked at him, unshed tears filling my eyes. "You have the thing that's gonna help, Sam? Huh?" I asked him brokenly and he shook his head no, running hand through my hair.
"Hey, Ellen, what is that?" He asked, looking behind her and next to the scanner.
"It's a police scanner. We keep tabs on things—" She started and I shook my head no.
"No, he means the folder."
"Oh." She took it out from the space next to the scanner and brought it over to us. "Uh…I was gonna give this to a friend of mine, but take a look if you want."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, thanks."
While looking over the set of newspaper clippings with Sam I tuned into what the hell Dean and Jo were talking about. I was still his girlfriend until he said so and I wanted to know if I needed to get up and present that fact to her.
"How'd your mom get into this stuff, anyway?" Dean asked her.
"My dad. He was a hunter. He passed away." Great she was his type. Dad was a hunter who died. I wonder if a Necromancer had posed as her father too.
"I'm sorry." I could tell he wasn't. Or not as sorry as he wanted to be. Sympathy wasn't the emotion he was feeling right now.
She shrugged and flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "It was a long time ago. I was just a kid. Sorry to hear about your dad."
"Yeah." He paused and my breath caught in my throat. "So, I guess I got fifty-one hours to waste. Maybe tonight, we should, uh…"
My head zipped around and I stared at him, tears freely making their way down my face. That was it wasn't it? The sign that I had been waiting for. But then something happened. He looked in my direction and I'm guessing he hadn't been expecting me to be looking at him because he looked right at my face. His eyes connected with mine. It was the shortest moment of my life. I turned back to look at the papers, biting my bottom lip to keep the rest of my tears in.
"…no, you know what, never mind." Dean finished, clearing his throat.
"What?" Jo asked, clearly disappointed.
Dean just sighed and I could tell he was looking at me again. "Nothin', just, uh…wrong place, wrong time."
"Dean, come here. Check this out." Sam said, calling him over. He saw me trying to wipe up my tears and leaned his head down to look at my face.
"You okay?" Sam asked and I nodded as Dean approached the bar. "You sure?"
Dean cleared his throat. "Did you call me for another reason other than standing here?" That emotion was called jealousy.
Sam glared at him and nodded. "Yeah, 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.
"So, I told her we'd check it out."
O0o0o0o0o
"You've gotta be kiddin' me. A killer clown?" Dean asked as he drove the minivan.
Sam nodded. "Yeah, he left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents –- ripped them to pieces, actually."
"Lovely." I slurred from the backseat, holding my head in an attempt the keep the three beers where they belonged.
"You want him to pull over?" Sam asked.
"And this family was at some carnival that night?" Dean continued right on with the conversation; bastard.
"Right, right. The Cooper carnival." Sam said not really paying attention to what he was saying. He was turning around and staring out me, trying to judge whether I was bout to toss my cookies on the van floor.
"So how do you know we're not dealin' with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?" Dean asked, jerking the car. I swore it was on purpose. That did it. My stomach swayed and I hit the back of Dean's seat causing him to swear and stop the car.
I threw open the van door and leaned out, spilling the contents of my stomach. Dean just sighed and groaned and Sam got out of the van to hold my hair and stroke my back. I coughed and sputtered as I pulled back from the mess on the concrete.
"Sorry." I said softly as I held my stomach and sat back in the van.
Sam crawled in the back with me and shut the van door. "Drive." He told Dean and he started the engine, pulling back onto the road.
Sam laid me down in the back seat of the van and put his jacket over me. He then looked to Dean and answered the question he'd been asked before I made an ass out of myself.
"The cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearin' down shop –- alibis all around. Plus, the girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air."
Dean smirked and it caused my stomach to lurch. Thank God I was sure it was empty. "I know what you're thinkin', Sam. "Why did it have to be clowns?""
Sam rolled his eyes, pushing strands of wet hair off my forehead. "Give me a break."
"You didn't think I'd remember, did you? I mean, come on, you still bust out cryin' whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the television."
"At least I'm not afraid of flying." Sam shot back.
"Planes crash!"
"And apparently clowns kill." I said ironically and Dean shut up after that.
"Why don't you try and get some sleep?" Sam offered and I nodded, nuzzling myself against the seat and his jacket.
"Thanks." I said quietly and he nodded, giving me a small kiss on the forehead.
Sam retuned back in his seat and the conversation between them went on. First they thought it was a cursed object since these murders kept being liked to carnival to carnival. It made sense. Spirits attached themselves to objects and the carnival takes it around with them.
I let out a small laugh, but it wasn't heard by either of them. If that was true it was going to end up being a paranormal scavenger hunt.
It took Dean about an hour to make another comment again and I was pretty sure both thought I was asleep. I was starting to get there but I had been trying to stay awake to listen to their conversation.
"Is she okay?" Dean asked Sam. So softly and quietly it almost reminded me of the old Dean. And for a minute something like hoped sparked within me and it made me feel like he would come back to be his normal self one day.
I felt Sam shift in his seat to look at me. "She's been better."
Maybe there was hope for Dean. It felt like there was hope. Hope for me too. That emotion he had just felt was called concern.