Stage of Salvation

2.01 Everyone Loves A Clown

I watched as red and white sparks drifted upward. A fire is burning in front of me. But this is no ordinary fire, it's a hunter's funeral for John Winchester. Standing beside me are Sam and Dean with their hands in their pockets. Sam is sobbing, tears rolling down his face. Dean is stoic, eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Before he... before he... did he say anything to you? About anything?" Sam asked.
There's a long beat before Dean replies with, "No. Nothing." I watch as a single man tear rolls down Dean's face, and breaks my heart. All of this reminds me of my mom's hunter's funeral almost a year ago. I remember how devastated I felt, how devastated I still feel about her death and my sisters'. How her death led me and my sister into a moral spiral of revenge, anger, and heartbreak. But I couldn't think about that right now. I have to be here for Sam and Dean, to mourn their dad with them. One week later, Dean is underneath the broken Impala working on it, only his legs sticking out. It is little more than a rusted frame, but it looks considerably less crunched than last time.
"How's the car coming along?" I ask as Sam and I approach Dean.
"Slow." Dean responds in a huff. Sam and I offer to help, but Dean pushes us away and not just physically. "One of you under the car? I'll pass." Dean pushes himself out from under the Impala and stands to face us. "Stop it, you two."
"Stop what?" I inquire.
"Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise." Sam and I don't believe it, nor do we take the bait of Dean trying to piss us off so we'll leave him alone.
"We've been at Bobby's for a week and you haven't brought up Dad once." Sam said.
But Dean refuses to go there. "You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance."
"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 this, and you're acting like nothing happened."
"What do you guys want me to say?"
"Say something! 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." Sam complained.
"Sounds good. You guys got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails 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 two figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car." Dean crouches by the car again, getting back to work.
"Well, we've got something, alright?" I say. We tell Dean that we cracked the voicemail code on their dad's old phone, and heard this message: "John, it's Ellen. You know I can help you. Call me." Sam ran a trace on the phone number and got an address.
"Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars." Dean said. Even in the state Dean's in, I can tell that he thinks this is important and maybe for the three of us it offers a chance to be a little less helpless.

𓆩⚝𓆪 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑* -⃝⃤ *⭑ ๋࣭⭒𖤐 𓆩⚝𓆪

We borrow one of Bobby's cars, which turns out to be a beaten up poorly maintained minivan that lurches up to the Roadhouse Saloon.
"This is humiliating. I feel like a fucking soccer mom!" Dean complains. The roadhouse looks completely deserted.
"It's the only car Bobby had running." I replied. We take a look around.
"Hey. You bring the, uh..." Dean asked Sam.
"Of course." Sam tosses a lockpick to his older brother, who catches it. We open the door and go inside. The saloon is quiet except for a fly buzzing. A light bulb blows out. We go to the back and see a man passed out on a pool table.
"I'm guessing that obviously isn't Ellen." I say. Sam and I go into a back room, looking around while Dean goes down the steps. But Sam and I stop when we feel a woman with long brown hair and brown eyes pointing a gun at our heads behind us.
Then we hear Dean yell, "Sam! Toralei! Need some help in here." The back door opens to reveal Sam and I, both hands on our heads. We entered the room slowly.
"Sorry, Dean, we can't right now. We're a little tied up at the moment." Sam answers for both of us. Sam nods his head, indicating the woman, who is still behind us with a handgun pointed at our heads.
"Sam? Dean? Winchester?" The woman with the gun on Sam and I said. The brothers nod, and the woman grins and lowers her gun.
"Mom, you know these guys?" A girl with blonde hair who looked a few years older than me asked while standing behind Dean.
"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys." The woman turned to me. "But I don't know who you are."
"I'm Toralei Argent." I said.
"Argent? As in one of Chris Argents' daughters?" I nod. "My what a small world. Your dad and your family are fantastic hunters. My husband used to call your family hunter royalty. Anyways, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo." Jo also lowers her rifle, and Dean smiles at her. We ask what she was offering to help John with, while Dean holds a bag of ice to his probably swollen lip. "Well, the demon, of course. Heard he was closing in on it." The three of us are gobsmacked that someone else knows about the demon; Ellen says that John was like family once. "John wouldn't have sent you if..." The realization dawns on her face. "He didn't send you. He's alright, isn't he?"
"No, no he isn't." Sam said. "It was the demon we think. Got him before he got it, I guess."
"I'm so sorry." Ellen is sincere, but Dean bristles, once again pushing away any kind of comfort or sympathy.
"It's okay, we're alright. Really, lady, I'm fine." Dean gives her a very fake smile. Ellen and Jo say they can't help, but Ash can, gesturing to the guy with a mullet who's been asleep on the pool table. "That's Ash?" Dean asked, sounding skeptical. Ash passed out on the pool table jerked awake and sat up, flailing.
"Uh huh. He's a genius." Jo said. A brown folder is slapped down on the bar; Sam, Ash, and I are sitting, Dean is standing behind us. Jo is on the other side of the bar pouring glasses of water.
"You gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."
"I like you." Ash tells him, taking it as a compliment.
"Thanks." Dean sits down with us and opens the folder. Ash pulls out the papers and starts rifling through them. He shakes his head.
"Come on. This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody who can take a demon like this."
"Our dad could." Sam says proudly. Ash is impressed, and agrees to try to track the demon, warning us it will take some time. Just fifty one hours. Ash gets up to leave as I notice Dean softening a little bit.
"I dig the haircut." Dean said.
"All business up front, party in the back!" Ash replied, tossing his head confidently. As he leaves, Jo walks by, flirting a little with Dean. He checks her out tiredly, then gets up to follow her. I see something behind the bar.
"Hey, Ellen, what is that?" I asked.
"It's a police scanner. We keep tabs on things, we—"
"No, I meant the folder." I said, pointing to it.
"Uh, I was gonna give this to a friend of mine. But take a look, if you guys want." She takes the folder from the wall and places it in front of Sam and I. It has some newspaper clippings attached to the front, and on the front, in red marker it reads: Couple murdered; child left alive; Medford, Wisc. We find out from the newspaper that the murders were committed by a supposed mysterious killer clown. When Ellen asks what we think of it we tell her that we'll check it out while we wait for Ash to track down the demon.
"Dean, come here, check this out." Sam calls out
to his brother. Dean comes back from talking to Jo.
"Yeah?"
"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of. Looks like to us there might be a hunt." Sam told him.
"So?"
"So, we told her we'd check it out." I say with a smile.

𓆩⚝𓆪 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑* -⃝⃤ *⭑ ๋࣭⭒𖤐 𓆩⚝𓆪

Dean, Sam, and I are all back driving in the minivan. It's dark now and raining; Sam has the research open on his lap.
"You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown, seriously?" Dean exclaimed.
"Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually."
"And this family was at some carnival that night?"
"Right. The Cooper Carnivals." I said.
"So how do you two know we're not dealing with some carnie in a clown suit?" Dean asks.
"Well, the cops have no viable leads and all of the employees were tearing down the shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said that she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course." Sam replied.
"I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?" Dean jabs. I hear the brothers banter about Sam's fear of clowns; Sam retaliates with Dean's fear of flying. "Planes crash!" Dean protests.
"And apparently clowns kill!" Sam exclaims. At times like these, I'm so glad the Winchester brothers don't know what I'm afraid of.
"So these types of murders, have they ever happened before?"
"According to the file, in 1981, the Bunker Brother Circus, same MO. It happened three times, in three different locations."
"It's weird, though, I mean if it is a spirit it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know, like a house, or a town." I said.
"How's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam asked.
"Cursed object, maybe. Spirit attaches itself to something and the carnival carries it around with them."
"Great. A paranormal scavenger hunt." Sam mumbled, his tone dripping in sarcasm.
"Well, this case was your guys' idea. By the way, why is that? You two were awfully quick to jump on this job."
"So?"
"It's just not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt."
"I just think, taking this job, it's what dad would've wanted us to do." Sam said.
"What dad wanted?" Dan asked, sounding skeptical.
"Yeah. So?"
"Nothing," Dean replied, turning his eyes back onto the endless road ahead of us.The squeaky minivan finally pulls up outside the carnival the next day. We see what appears to be detectives talking to some carnies. I'm instantly reminded of the Carnival Encino that my parents used to take Allison and I to when we were little. At this carnival, there were clowns everywhere, including bumping into Sam. Sam stands with his hands in his pockets as a three-foot-tall woman in a clown outfit passes us. He stares at her, nervous, and she stares back before moving on.
"Did you get her number?" Dean says returning from talking to one of the detectives. He grins at Sam and is clearly enjoying teasing his little brother far too much.
Sam glares at him. "More murders?"
"Two more last night. Apparently they were ripped to shreds. And they had a little boy with them."
"Was a clown with them?" I ask.
"Yeah. A clown who also apparently vanished into thin air."
"Dean, you know, looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could literally be anything."
"Well, it's bound to give off EMF, so we'll just have to scan everything."
"Oh, good, that's nice and very inconspicuous." Sam remarks, sarcastically. Suddenly I see a sign on one of the vendor trucks that reads: Help wanted... S. Cooper. I nod towards it and the brothers see it too.
"I guess we'll just have to blend in." I say.