The second man woke up in the same way as the first: tied to a chair in an underground room on the fairgrounds. He jolted up against his bonds and looked around anxiously for his family. When he saw the occupant of the other chair, his breathing stopped and his mind raced at the implications. The situation had just gotten ten times more confusing.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Dean stared in shock at the man in the other chair. He looked exactly like Sammy. But that couldn't be right? Sammy was dead. The man's shoulder length brown hair obscured his face. There was blood caked in his hair and on his shirt. Which reminded Dean of his own pains. His head was ringing and the sharp ache in his side told him at least one of his ribs was broken. Before he had the chance to fully take stock in his situation and his surroundings, he heard the only door to the room open. In walked a demon, wiping the paint off his face. He grinned when he saw that Dean was conscious, and strolled over to the other man and slapped him awake.

The man jolted up out of unconsciousness and Dean finally saw his face. It was Sammy. He looked up at the demon in confusion and then in fear when he recognized the clown without his makeup. The demon turned to face both of them and said, "This is one of the greatest moments of my life. Two Winchesters in one place? My boss can't help but promote me."

Sam's face tightened at the fact that the demon said two Winchesters. He slowly turned and looked at Dean uncomprehendingly for a moment before groaning in realization. "This was a trap. You weren't trying to get me to tell you anything. You were just waiting until Dean got here before turning us over to your boss. Who is he by the way?"

Dean was surprised at the abrupt reception he had gotten from Sam. You'd think after two years the kid would be a little happier to see him, no matter how bleak the circumstances. He decided to get straight to the point. "Where's Ben and Lisa?"

All he got for his question was a sucker punch. "You'd better quit thinking of them and start thinking of yourself. You have to be the easiest capture I've ever made, Dean Winchester. At one time you might have called yourself a hunter, but this? This level of dotage doesn't suit you."

Dean gasped for air and tried to avoid the truth in the demon's words. He decided that maybe he should just shut up and focus his energy on the ropes behind his chair.

Sam, who had never lost his sixth sense for his brother's actions in these types of situations, picked up the conversation. "Look, I don't know who you work for, and I don't really want to meet him. Just tell me this. Why the clowns? If you're going to capture us with your super demon squad, use a better costume. It's a little archaic."

The demon backhanded Sam and Dean couldn't help but think about how their roles had changed. He was supposed to be the one with the snarky comments and the careless regard for the consequences. His fingers grew bloodier as his wrists were rubbed raw in his attempt to shake free of the ropes.

When the demon moved to the other side of the room and picked up a scrying bowl and ceremonial dagger, Dean and Sam looked at each other, both hoping the demon would pick themselves to get the blood instead of their brother. Reaching behind his back in the customary fist of rock-paper-scissors, Dean thumped his hand three times. Sam, catching on to the game of odds, followed suit. His mouth dropped in surprise open when he lost. Dean smirked at him and mouthed "Ben gets bored," before staring up at the demon with a smirk.

"Calling your boss? Oh yeah, I forgot. He's supposed to promote you. Good luck with that. I mean, with your looks? There's no way you're going to get past the level of an average demon."

The demon immediately focused his attention on Dean in wrath, scraping his knife across his arm and holding the bowl to catch the flow of the blood. Dean grimaced at the pain, and yelped in surprise when the demon moved on to the other arm.

"You've got enough blood!"

The demon looked at him haughtily and said, "Better safe than sorry."

As he moved to the corner to start his message, Dean let out the breath he was holding and looked over at his brother.

"You want to tell me why you're still alive?"

Sam groaned and said, "This isn't really the time Dean."

Dean scoffed and asked him, "You wouldn't want me to die without knowing how you didn't die would you?"

"Fine, you want the short-version?"

"Sure."

"Cas saved me. The end."

"How long have you been out?"

Sam looked down at the ground before answering. "Two years."

"Two years?! Sammy, I thought you were dead, and you were waltzing around in the land of the living for two years and you just thought you didn't need to tell me?"

"Look, I'm sorry that I let you think I was dead. It's just… you had a chance to be normal. I would've found you eventually, but you deserved this apple pie life you've been living. I went to Stanford, and it was one of the happiest times of my life. I just wanted to give you the same chance."

Dean hung his head for a moment before looking back up at Sam. "I know man. But two years? I would have been happier with you alive. I am happier. It's not fair to kick me out of the hunting world to drown my sorrows on a woman and child who loved me even when I would come home smelling of whiskey and cheap smokes. It wasn't your decision. I needed you."

Sam nodded and was about to go on with the conversation when they heard the deep rumble from the corner. At first, they were confused by the sound, but they realized with dismay that the demon was laughing. Deep, throaty, pleased laughter. The demon turned to face Sam and Dean and grinned.

"He's on his way."

They looked at each other in dismay and frantically continued their escape attempts as the room started to shake.

The boss was coming.