Superstitions {Dean Winchester 2}

Chapter 5

Everybody Loves a Clown

I pulled myself from Dean's arm after Sam called out for us. I move back toward the bar where he sat with Dean following behind me.

"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of." Sam says, eyes on the papers in his hands. "Looks to me like there might be a hunt." 

"Yeah, so?" Dean asked, his hand on my waist as he stood by my side. 

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

"Do I look like someone you can just rent out to a random woman who wanted some weird monster killed?" I asked. "Because I am not." 

___

"You gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?" Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the dark, stormy road ahead. 

"Yeah, he left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents." Sam explained from the backseat as he went through the folder on the hunt that Ellen had given him. "Ripped them to pieces, actually."

"Well, this feels like a punch in the gut after all the badass shit we've hunted." I glanced over at Dean who had one hand on the wheel. I ran my fingertips over his other hand that rested on his leg. 

"And this family was at a carnival that night?" Dean asked.

"Right. The Cooper Carnival." Sam nodded his head. 

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

"Because clearly that makes no sense, but IT come to life? That is totally logical." I say, smiling a little.

"The cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop." Sam stated. "Alibis all around. Plus, the girl said she saw a clown disappear into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."

"And when I was nine, I saw a glowing man in a trench suit, but we're not hunting him now are we?" I pointed out.

"I know what you're thinking, Sam." Dean says. "Why did it have to be clowns?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break."

"You didn't think I remember, did you?" Dean laughed a little, making me smile as I slid down in my seat and propped my feet on the dash. "Come on, you still bust out crying when you see Ronald McDonald on the television."

"At least I'm not afraid of flying." Sam retorts.

"Planes crash." Dean argued. 

"And apparently, clowns kill." 

I laughed a little at the siblings argument.

"Oh, what are you giggling about over there, Miss Scared of the Dark, Wax Figures, and Small Spaces?" Dean asked, making Sam laugh.

I slap his hand. "Oh, shut up. Both of you overgrown toddlers need to be quiet." 

"So these types of murders, they ever happen before?" Dean asked, glancing back at Sam. 

"Uh, according to the file, 1981. The Bunker Brothers Circus." Sam answered. "Same m.o. It happened three different times, three different locales." 

"It's weird though." Dean says. "I mean, if it is a spirit, it's usually bound to a specific locale: a house or a town." 

"So how is this one moving from, city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam asked. 

"Cursed object, maybe." Dean suggested. "The spirit attaches itself to something, carnival carries it around with them."