One Day In Your Life, Even downtime has its dangers

And we're off again!

Hello.

This one is a little different from my usual style. No hurt boys. Yep, you heard me right - not even a shaving nick. Well, apart from one tiny little bruise on Dean's backside - nothing much, really. And that happened before the story picks up, so it doesn't really count, does it?

This one came about after a conversation I had with my good friend Fredo from Supernaturalville, when I posted All The Fun Of The Fair, for Alex. Fredo told me we needed to have a little chat, and proceeded to plead her case - even though it had been ten years since her graduation, she wouldn't mind a little graduation present too. So I started thinking about it, and came up with this.

So, as the title implies, it's a day in the Winchesters' lives. Not a typical day - this is downtime. But sometimes even downtime has some hidden dangers.....

So if you ever wanted to be a fly on the wall for the boys' time in the motel room after the hunt was all over, then look no further. Hope you enjoy the little peek.

Thanks so much to aunt Christine, our awesome Chasidern, for another pretty banner.
And thanks also to Sarah, the mighty Ziggy, for her beta-eye. Can't do it without you any more, sis, so you better stick around.

Warning: Dean shower scene - not for the faint-hearted. About flipping time I treated myself.
Oh, and clowns - and a goat....don't ask......

Bless you,

Jules




One Day In Your Life – by Mizpah
Even downtime has its dangers…
Set in Season 3, some time after the episode Dream A Little Dream Of Me.

Chapter 1

“Gah!”

“Not one word, Sam.”

“I wasn’t – uh – oh God…”

“You hurl in the car, and I swear…”

“I’m not – it’s uh….nhhhuhhhnng…” Sam stuck his head as far out the window as he possibly could without actually climbing out of the Impala. Taking great gulps of fresh air, he turned his face to the wind, ignoring his brother’s sarcastic comment about overgrown puppies hanging out of car windows.

Dean scrunched his face in disgust and wound down his window a little further. “This was your fault.”

“How was this my fault?”

“Banshee – you said it was a banshee.”

Sam took a deep breath, ducked his head back inside the car, and said in a rush, “That’swhattheresearchindicateditwas!” His stomach flip-flopped, and he lunged for the fresh air once more. “Anyway,” he shouted, his words snatched away by the wind as soon as they were out of his mouth. “You’re the one who wanted to go and have a look around before we interviewed the owners!”

“Say what?” Dean turned to glance at his sibling, fighting down the urge to gag as he caught a whiff of the eye-watering stench emanating from his sodden clothes. “Get in here before you get your stupid head knocked off!”

The younger hunter vehemently shook his head. The wind caught his hair and blew it across his face, completely obscuring his vision.

Dean suppressed a chuckle. “Dude – you look like a tall brunette version of Cousin It.”

“Who?” Sam flicked his long bangs out of his eyes and scowled.

“Never mind.” Reaching out, Dean grabbed a handful of Sam’s shirt and hauled him back inside the car. “Will you just get in here before I’m pulled over for not having you on a leash!”

“Hilarious!” Sam pulled up the bottom of his shirt and pressed it against his nose and mouth, keeping his head turned towards the open window while he breathed through the cotton fabric. He scanned the streets of the small town, finally spotting a comfortable looking motel with its vacancy sign lit. “Hey – one o’clock.”

Glancing in the indicated direction, Dean grunted in acknowledgement and steered the Chevy into the driveway. He coasted to a stop outside the motel office, switched off the engine and stepped hastily from the car into the fresh air. Ignoring his brother’s sarcastic snicker, Dean wiped a smear of slime from his forehead, straightened his filthy shirt as best he could, and headed for the door.

“Dean, wait!” Sam hastily clambered from the Impala, his shirt still held over the lower half of his face, and waved his free hand at his slime and mud-stained brother. “Um – you – I can get – um – may – maybe…” He stuttered into an uneasy silence as Dean’s impatient glare turned decidedly icy.

“I’m quite capable of getting us a room, Sam,” the elder hunter stated flatly. With his sibling trailing unhappily behind him, albeit not too closely, Dean stomped to the office door and pushed it open, barely sparing a glance at the tiny bell tinkling above his head. Dredging up a weak smile for the young woman behind the counter, he pulled out his wallet, wiping the water from its leather surface before opening it up. “Like a room, please.”

“Uh, sure – how long…” The flame haired girl’s face twisted in disgust as the overwhelming stench wafted past her nose. “Oh, my God!” Diving into the back room, she re-emerged a few moments later with a can of air freshener in her hand.

Dean stood silently; his mud-smeared face an expressionless mask while the woman sprayed the rose-scented aerosol liberally in his general direction. He heard a strangled gulp from behind him, and drew his shoulders back as he let out a tiny, aggrieved sigh. Quirking a slime-coated eyebrow, he flicked his latest credit card onto the surface of the counter.

“Um – we – that is …” The girl reared away from the pungent hunter, keeping the air freshener close by while she gingerly picked up the credit card and began typing the details into the computer.

“Two queens. Or two singles – whatever you’ve got available.” As long as there’s plenty of hot water…

“Only – have…” Coughing lightly, the redhead pulled a tissue from the box on the counter and pressed it to her nose. “Only have a single queen,” she stated, her gaze flicking to the tall shaggy haired figure standing by the door with his nose buried in his shirtsleeve. “Sorry – there’s a convention in town – we’re all booked up.”

Dean ground his teeth together and briefly closed his eyes. “Any other motels in town got any rooms?” he asked with forced calm.

“There’s only two, and they’re all booked up as well. Sorry.”

Sam stepped forward a pace, careful to avoid getting too near his less than pleasant smelling brother. “Do you have a rollaway bed? Or a spare mattress?”

The girl shook her head, a mute apology in her amber eyes.

“It’s fine – if you can let us have some extra blankets and pillows, we’ll make do.”

Nodding abruptly, the young woman sped through the registration process, keeping as far away from the shorter Winchester brother as possible without actually leaving the room. She thrust a key across the counter and stepped back, grabbing the can of air freshener again. “Room seventeen. Enjoy…” She gagged, and her shoulders jerked as her stomach gave an ominous lurch. “… y-your stay,” she finished breathlessly.

“Thank you.” Scooping up the key, Dean turned with as much dignity as he could muster, and strode from the office. He tried not to wince when he heard the sharp hiss of the aerosol can just as the door closed.

Sam shrugged apologetically at the pretty redhead before following his pissed off sibling to the car. He waved a hand at the rows of doors in answer to his brother’s silent query, and walked swiftly along in the Impala’s wake while Dean steered the black classic into its designated parking space. Arriving mere seconds behind his sibling, Sam watched in amusement as Dean slid from the car and bundled up the towel he’d been using to protect the leather seat.

“Not one word.”

“I’m not sayin’ anything, I promise.”

“Just remember that promise, Sasquatch, or get used to sleeping with one eye open.”

Dean tossed the Impala’s keys to his smirking brother, pretending not to notice when Sam wiped them on his jeans before unlocking the trunk. He strode to the door of their new home for the night and inserted the key into the lock. The tumblers clicked back, but the door didn’t budge, and Dean arched an eyebrow at the unmoving wooden barrier before dropping his shoulder and ramming it, splattering mud and slime onto its ochre surface. The door sprang back, crashing against the wall. Dean stumbled over the threshold, windmilling his arms to catch his balance before he face-planted onto the burnt orange carpet.

Straightening up with an aggrieved sigh, the hunter searched the room, finding the same standard layout – small counter on the right with a sink, a coffee machine and a courtesy tray, small square table with two chairs under the window, television in the corner on a worn cabinet facing a two-seater olive green vinyl couch, queen sized bed flanked by small wooden side tables against the left hand wall, bathroom beyond that. Hearing soft footfalls behind him, Dean moved to the end of the bed to allow his brother to enter the room.

Sam coughed lightly as he stepped inside and dropped their duffle bags on the carpet to the left of the door. He waved a hand in front of his face, ignoring his big brother’s frustrated glare.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Dean muttered coldly, tugging off his filthy boots. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, found a clean corner of the towel he’d been sitting on and wiped the leather clean, tossing the wallet onto the bed before padding to the bathroom in his wet socks.

“Yeah – great idea.” Fighting down a gag reflex, Sam plunged a hand into his duffle and withdrew his shaving kit. He extracted a spray can of deodorant, pulled off the cap and sprayed it around the room. Feeling as if he was being watched, Sam glanced up, an embarrassed flush staining his cheeks as he noticed his brother observing his every move. Sam shrugged helplessly and lowered the can, flashing the elder hunter a dimpled smile that quickly wilted under the incensed glare from Dean’s wide green eyes.

Dean lingered in the doorway, his glare turning almost homicidal in its intensity before he slammed the bathroom door in a fit of pique. Letting out an annoyed snort, he stomped to the bathtub, throwing back the sliding glass door with a quick jerk of his wrist. He reached in and turned on the water, allowing the steam to curl toward the ceiling before stepping in fully clothed.

Turning his face into the hot, soothing stream, Dean allowed a contented groan to escape his lips. He reached for the motel soap and worked up a good lather before scrubbing his face until his skin tingled, rinsing repeatedly under the running water. Mud and slime mingled with the soapsuds, swirling around his socked feet before they disappeared down the drain. Dean watched them go with a happy sigh.

He ducked his head under the shower and rubbed the soap vigorously through his hair. Turning his attention to his filthy clothes, he started with his jacket, running the cake of soap up and down the arms and front of the dark blue material before peeling it from his frame. He rinsed the garment, soaped it up again and gave it a final rinse before wringing it out and tossing it onto the floor.

Sliding the leather belt from the waistband of his jeans, Dean gave it a light scrub and hung it over the top of the shower stall. He gave his long sleeved shirt the same treatment as his jacket, flinging the wet cotton garment onto the floor with one hand while unfastening the stud on his jeans with the other.

“Freakin’ banshee – I’ll give him freakin’ banshee…” Dean lathered up his hands and ran them down the legs of his jeans, canting his torso back to rinse the slime from the denim. Lathering up again, he scrubbed his palms over his butt. “Some freakin’ banshee.” He soon fell into a soothing rhythm – grab the soap, lather, scrub, rinse and repeat, all the way down the length of the jeans legs till he got to the slightly frayed hems. With the worst of the grime and mud sloughed away, he finally tugged off the sodden pants and gave them a final rinse and wring, adding them to the growing pile of wet clothes in the middle of the floor.

“Can’t freakin’ tell a banshee from a freakin’ goat!” The annoyed hunter glanced down at his tee shirt and boxer briefs, pleased to find that his outer clothes had protected the inner ones from most of the gunk. Giving his undergarments and socks a light scrub and rinse, he peeled them off and tossed them over the top of the shower door, grinning when he heard a wet splat a few seconds later. The bar of soap was now reduced to a mere wafer, and he dropped it onto the edge of the bath.

Dean stretched his arms above his head, ran his hands through his hair, and grimaced. Soap really wasn’t the ideal cleaning agent for his spiky locks. He needed something much more luxurious. “Sam!”

The door opened partway. “What?”

“Shampoo.” Dean heard a low, unintelligible grumble and his grin returned. Deciding that he really didn’t need to know what his brother had said, he waited patiently under the stream of water until the door was flung open again. A brightly coloured plastic bottle came sailing over the top of the shower stall, bouncing off the top of his head with deadly accuracy. “Ow! Hey!”

“Bite me.” Sam toed the pile of dripping wet clothes. “Dude, it’s your turn to do the laundry, ‘cos I’m so not touching those.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.” The door banged shut.

“Is not,” Dean muttered petulantly to the empty bathroom, pouting a little. He pulled the cap off the bottle, checked the label and chuckled. “Almond and vanilla – Sammy, you’re such a chick.”

Filling his palm with a generous dollop of his brother’s shampoo, Dean carefully set the bottle on the edge of the bath and gave his hair an energetic and thorough clean, massaging the fragrant lotion in well. He closed his eyes, ducked his head and sluiced the sweet-smelling suds off, a shiver running through his tall frame when a line of bubbles slid down his back and tickled his butt on their way to the drain.

With his hair squeaky clean, Dean turned his attention to the rest of his body, raising his forearm close to his face to take a careful sniff. A faint whiff of decay met his nose, and he grimaced as he snatched up the bottle of shampoo. The filthy, stagnant water had defeated the soap, but it wouldn’t stand a chance against the shampoo – he hoped. Dean poured out handful after handful and scrubbed every inch of his skin until he practically glowed, humming happily under his breath while he worked.

The hunter jumped in shock when a sudden pounding rattled the door. “Jeez!”

“Did you drown in there, Dean?”

“Yes!”

An annoyed huff came through the door, followed by a single thump. Dean picked up the almost empty bottle of shampoo and squeezed the last of it onto his palms. He tossed the bottle onto his wet clothes before running his hands down his chest to his legs, leaving a sweet smelling trail of bubbles over his pecs and abs. The pleasant scent of almonds curled around him, and his smile became child-like in its simplicity.

“At least I don’t smell like the Creature from the Black Lagoon any more,” he murmured in relief.

Running his palms over his back and butt, he winced as he encountered a bruise near his hip. “Damned goat – should have shot the freakin’ thing.”

The water slowly lost its heat, and the tall hunter gave his body a final sluice down before reluctantly shutting off the stream. He stepped from the tub and hooked a towel off the rack, rubbing his skin pink as he dried off. Draping a fresh towel around his waist, he dropped the damp one onto the soaking wet pile of clothes. Finally Dean stepped over the mess, pulling the door open to emerge in a fragrant cloud of steam.

Dean smirked at his hovering sibling as he strolled past, the heady scent of vanilla and almonds emanating from his body. Sam wrinkled his nose, casting a suspicious glance in his brother’s direction.

Stooping over his duffle, the nearly naked hunter grabbed the strap and hoisted the bulging bag onto the end of the bed. “By the way, there’s no hot water.”

“Figured that out all by myself, since you were in there for over a half hour,” Sam replied dryly.

The elder Winchester’s smirk morphed into an angelic smile, which didn’t fool his little brother for a second. “There’s no shampoo left, either.”

Sam’s jaw and shoulders dropped at the same time. “You – you used the whole bottle?”

“Consider it payback.” Dean settled onto the edge of the bed and plucked a clean tee shirt and boxers from his bag.

“For what?”

The elder hunter tugged his underwear on under the towel before pulling it from around his hips. He tossed it in the general direction of the bathroom, ignoring his brother’s annoyed huff when the wadded up towel hit the wall and fell to the floor. Dean eyed his sibling, and pointed to the edge of the bed. “Sit,” he commanded.

His brows arching in curiosity, Sam settled beside his brother. “What?”

“We’re gonna have a little talk.”

“We are? Sure the goat didn’t butt you in the head instead of your ass?”

“Hilarious.” Clearing his throat, Dean folded his hands in his lap and took a deep breath. “Obviously, there’s been a short circuit in that freaky brain of yours.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest.

“Uh-uh – shut it.” Dean held up a cautionary hand to silence his brother. “See, there’s a difference between a banshee and a goat, Sam. And since you obviously don’t know, then it’s my job to tell you.”

“Dean, I know the –”

“I said – shut it. I’m not finished. See, a banshee is a supernatural entity – a death omen. A goat is a farm animal. See the difference? Or do you need a little more time to process it all?”

Sam’s exasperated sigh could be heard in the next county.

“And since we’re supernatural hunters and not farmers…”

“If you hadn’t been so friggin’ impatient – ‘let’s just go get the son of a bitch – to hell with the research, Sammy’.”

“I was not.”

“You so were, too.”

Dean tugged on his tee shirt and folded his arms indignantly. “Was not!”

Letting out an aggrieved snort, the younger hunter strode across the room and settled on a chair, pulling the open laptop closer.

“What’re you doing?”

“Same thing I was doing while you were bathing in my shampoo.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Research – for the hunt.” Sam leaned back in the chair and cast a glance at his sibling. “So, it’s not a banshee.”

The elder Winchester threw up his hands. “Hallelujah, the kid’s a freakin’ genius. Let me guess – it’s actually a goat.”

“Funny, Dean. Almost as funny as the sight of you flying through the air after the goat butted you in the ass.”

“One eye open, Samuel, just remember that.” Dean pointed his finger at his brother as if aiming a pistol.

“Samuel? Well, aren’t we formal today?”

A sudden knock at the door had Dean scrambling for a clean pair of jeans and Sam rising to his feet, his hand automatically reaching for the pistol tucked into his waistband. Nodding at his big brother, Sam waited until Dean was decently clothed before striding to the door and leaning down to peer through the peephole. He relaxed, flashing a grin over his shoulder as he reached for the handle.

The flame haired receptionist peered cautiously into the room as Sam opened the door, sniffing the air delicately. She detected the sweet scent of almonds and smiled up at the tall hazel-eyed hunter. “Oh, hi.”

“Hey.”

“Brought you those pillows and blankets.” The girl hugged the bundle to her chest.

Sam held out his arms. “Thank you.” A puzzled frown creased his brow when the young woman made no move to hand the items over.

“So – room okay?” Arching an auburn eyebrow, the girl peered around the door, drawing back a little when she spotted Dean sitting on the end of the bed. “Oh – um, hi.”

“Hey.” The elder Winchester nodded affably, trying to keep a smirk from his face.

Bright amber eyes tracked from one tall sibling to the other, a silent question in their depths.

Sam gave the girl a reassuring smile. “My brother,” he explained.

“Oh.” The receptionist freed one hand and held it out. “I’m Amber.”

“Nice to meet you, Amber. I’m Sam.”

“And I’m Dean,” the elder hunter interjected, waving a hand.

Amber nodded reluctantly, giving Dean a wary look before turning her attention to Sam. She kept hold of the taller Winchester’s hand. “Well, I hope you enjoy your stay, Sam. It’s a nice little town.”

“I’m sure we will.” Sam tugged gently on his hand, freeing it from Amber’s grasp. He took the extra bedding and smiled. “Thanks again.”

“Oh, any time.” Smiling sweetly, the girl ran an appreciative gaze over Sam’s broad-shouldered frame. “Anything you need – anything at all – just ask.”

Giving a brief nod, Sam pushed the door closed, resting his head momentarily against the wooden frame before turning to face his sibling. A faint blush coloured his cheeks when he noticed the mile-wide grin adorning Dean’s face. “What?”

“Dude – could you be any more lame?”

“What?”

“That chick was practically undressing you with her eyes!” Dean got to his feet and strode over to his brother, giving the shaggy head a sharp swat. “And what’s the best you can come up with? ‘Oh, gee, thanks’. Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve tried to teach you?”

Sam’s glare almost fried Dean on the spot. He stalked over to the bed and dumped the armload of linen before spinning on his heel. “Shut up! And stop trying to pimp me out!”

“I’m not tryin’ to pimp you out! I’m tryin’ to figure out if you’re dead from the waist down.”

“Dean – just – shut up, all right?”

“Dude…” Dean frowned when his brother snatched up his jacket. “Now where are you going?”

“Out.” Some of the stiffness melted from Sam’s shoulders as Dean took a step in his direction. “Coffee, all right?”

Dean subsided, nodding briefly. “Yeah, okay. Doughnuts, too.”

Letting out a tiny huff, the hazel-eyed hunter strode to the door, opened it – and froze in his tracks.

About to take a seat at the table, Dean heard a strangled gasp and looked up. He quickly changed direction and sprinted across the room, taking in Sam’s white-knuckled grip on the doorknob, the startled deer in the headlights look on his rapidly paling face and the tenseness in his tall frame in one lightning swift glance. Dean’s mind screamed ‘threat’. Darting out a hand to pluck Sam’s Taurus 9mil from his waistband, he slipped past his frozen sibling, curling his finger around the trigger of the silver handgun. Dean stepped protectively in front of his little brother and then slammed to a halt, his eyes widening in surprise.

A white painted face topped by a fuzzy blue wig stared back at him, bright red painted lips stretched in a ridiculously wide smile. The clown nodded a friendly greeting at the two young men as he straightened his patchwork coat. “Hey, there. Nice day for it.”

“Uh – yeah.” Dean hastily tucked the pistol out of sight behind his leg as he glanced up at the sky. The sun was dipping towards the western horizon, painting the blue expanse with a soft sheen of gold. But there really wasn’t time to stand there admiring the weather – not with his brother practically hyperventilating behind him. Dean could feel the hitched inflations of Sam’s chest against his shoulder blade. “Yeah, it is. So, anyway – gotta go.”

“Yeah, me, too. See you boys later.” Flicking a puzzled glance at the taller of the two young men, the clown gave a tiny shrug and continued his walk across the parking lot. He was soon joined by another of his kind, this one with a bright red wig like Ronald McDonald. The two chatted amiably as they headed into the conference room next to the office.

Blowing out a relieved sigh, Dean prised Sam’s fingers from their death grip on the doorknob and closed the door, edging his sibling back a few steps. He looked up into the terror-stricken eyes and licked his lips.

Clowns. Why did it have to be clowns, he wondered to himself. For all his teasing, Dean knew his brother to be rock-steady in a fight, and there was no one he’d rather have at his back during a hunt. He’d seen Sam hold his own against a wendigo, hell-hounds, spirits, demons, and a host of other supernatural creatures with barely a flinch, often throwing himself willingly in the path of danger to protect innocent people. But bring the guy face to face with a clown, and he turned into a quivering wreck.

Dean usually avoided giving him too much grief about it, although sometimes it was hard to resist, like the time he’d forced Sam to sit on the clown chair at the Cooper carnival. However his little brother had gotten a little too good at retaliation over the years, and three days later Dean had almost had a heart attack when he’d found a dead rat hanging from the shower nozzle at Bobby’s place. Having Bobby come and remove the rat while he stood shivering in the hallway clad in nothing but a skimpy towel hadn’t done much for his macho image.

Still, even brotherly teasing had its limits, and there was no way Dean was going to take advantage while Sam looked as though he was about to collapse. Dean kept his voice low and soothing as he went into damage control. “He’s gone, dude.”

Sam pointed a shaking finger at the closed door. “C-c-…”

“Clown. Yeah, I know.” The elder Winchester handed the pistol back, his mind replaying the conversation with the attractive receptionist when they’d first arrived. “That must have been the convention Amber was talking about.”

Sam’s face paled even more, and his eyes darted wildly back and forth in growing panic.

“You want to bail? We can try the next town.” Dean watched his brother’s face, seeing the rapid shift of emotions as Sam considered and discarded options with dizzying speed. He could guess what his brother was thinking – whether to risk making a run for the car and having Dean give him crap about it afterwards, or tough it out and hope that he could avoid the fuzzy haired horrors parading outside the flimsy door.

The taller hunter finally drew back his trembling shoulders and took a shuddering breath. “N-no. We paid f-for the night.”

That’s my boy. Dean quirked a grin as he patted his brother’s heaving chest, pride gleaming in his eyes. “How about I go get the coffee, huh? You can stay here.”

Sam fidgeted, torn between not wanting to be trapped in the room by himself while an army of evil clowns paraded outside, and not wanting to go outside for fear of coming face to face with said army of evil clowns. “Um…”

“You’ll be okay in here, dude,” Dean offered gently. “I’ll go see what’s in town, and get us some supplies for tonight, huh?”

“Yeah – I guess.”

The elder Winchester turned to grab his duffle as his brother walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. It was wrenched open seconds later and Sam staggered out, one hand clapped over his nose and mouth. The younger hunter’s face was decidedly green under its tan.

“Gahhhh – Dean! Your clothes still friggin’ reek!”

Dean let out an annoyed snort. “Can’t have it both ways, Sammy. It’s either clowns or stink – what’s it gonna be?” He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on a clean button up shirt. Giving his slime encrusted boots a woeful glance; he delved into the bottom of Sam’s duffle and snared his brother’s sneakers.

“I’d rather have the stink,” Sam muttered darkly, trying not to gag. Moving away from the bathroom, he began to fiddle with the extra linen, sorting the blankets and pillows into two neat piles.

“Then quit bitchin’.” Picking up the filthy boots by their laces, Dean tossed them into the bathroom. He donned a clean pair of socks and the borrowed sneakers, wiggling his toes in the slightly too-long footwear. “Dude, you’ve got really big feet.”

Sam shrugged, a faint smirk twisting his lips. “You know what they say about big feet.”

“You little pervert! I’m so not going there.” Snatching up his wallet, Dean paused with his hand on the door. “Don’t shoot too many clowns while I’m gone.”

The door slammed just before a pillow hit its wooden surface.

* * * * *

Well, there you go. See? Not a scratch. Next week, we meet the lovely Lucie - or rather, Dean does.....

Fantastic start my awesome sis! And no evil beasties after our boys this time!

Just gotta laugh that Dean got butted in the arse by a goat of all things, landing in something repulsive! And just loved the image of Amber spraying air freshener as Dean stunk out the reception office!

Hon, the Dean shower scene was just delicious - oh to be one of those bubbles working it's way down his back! (and yes, I am still a Sammy girl but Dean is irresitable too! )

Typical Winchester luck, at least for Sam, that the convention in town just happened to be a clown one , terrifying the younger brother as he went to get coffee!

Loved the banter between the boys, you are just so in their heads girl! Could so imagine Dean teasing his little brother at Amber's obvious attraction to him, and then teasing him again when Sam's borrowed sneakers were too big for him! Great comeback from Sam though!

Perfect start sis, am loving this story already! Am looking forward to next Friday already in anticipation!

Have a great weekend hon, hope the storms hold off for the weekend!

And thanks for your kind words about my betaing!

Sarah

jules thanks a million for this story,it's amaznig-that's my face now

you described so well the dynamics between them and the shower's moment?? it was great!especially this part:

and I love also the moment in which dean was booking the room

Hee!

Fantastic start, I keep making myself giggle thinking about the goat.....

Been reading a lot of angst recently, so lovely to get a bit of light relief, especially including a shower scene...

Hope Sammy survives the clowns...x

Awesome start as always Jules

No hurt Winchesters, i'm in shock lol.

That Dean shower scene was a nice treat, totally hot stuff great description.

Poor Sam with the clown, i know how he feels, i would have totally freaked out as well

Hope you are good, see you back here next week

x Loz x

Oh my! Where to start... well, i laughed my ass off!!! Dear lord, Dean got owned by a goat! How classic and wonderbus!!!!! I'm picturing Sam with his head hanging out the window, and i laugh some more... Then Dean goes to the shower, and my mind plays dead(grabbing his butt? Seriously? I like thinking about doing that! Well, more Sam than Dean, but hey; i'll take either)

and goats do smell, having lived near them for some time now... so i would have to agree with the Sam and everyone; Dean would STINK! hahaha... i have body wash like Sam's, and it smells so good... NO! BAD ME!! head out of the gutter!

I loved it, i'm panting for more, and i'll be prowling the board on friday!!!!

loves,

Pauline

Loving the begining, but so far I have fully enjoyed all of your stories I have read so far.

The banter is dead on, and poor Dean stinking to high heaven, and still insisting on getting the room himself.

And the Clowns! Poor Sam...Any one that has seen IT understands.
I'm with you on this one, Sam.

I'm hooked and will be following this.

Jules, what a start, so funny
Wow!Lot of bickering between the brothers.
Lol!Dean hit by a goat. So well writing that I smelt him up to here, lol
Poor Sam, one convention in that little town and it's a clown's one, that's bad luck, lol
What's going to happen next, can't wait to know

WONDERED WHERE YOU POSTED YOUR NEW FIC ....LOVE THE BANTER BETWEEN THE GUYS .....WOW I REALLY NEED TO CLEAN UP MY SHOWER SCENE IN MY SEQ...MINES A LITTLE MORE R RATED COURSE YOU WOULD KNOW THAT WITH ME WRITING IT .....CAN'T WAIT TO SEE WHERE YOU ARE GOING WITH THIS AND I'LL PROTECT SAM FROM THE MEAN OLE CLOWNS



LUV YA LOADS


LORRIE

Mmmm, Dean smelling like an almond cookie.....

The story was hilarious from start to finish - Sam trying to ride outside the Impala to avoid the smell, the hotel clerk's reaction to Dean, Dean's shower scene, Sam's reaction to the clown.

Ah, you gotta write an epilogue where Dean brings Sam a little souvenier from the clown convention. Please?

Ha. I totally forgot about his fear of clowns. Poor guy.

Well, here we are - it's Friday evening, it's hot as hell, I'm sitting in my home office under the fan and sweating like crazy, hoping for a storm to cool things off.

It's going to be a long, hot summer.....

Sarah – thanks, my hardworking sis. No, no evil beasties this time – it’s purely some well-earned time off for our favourite hunters. Lol – I actually had the inspiration for Dean’s little mishap after cleaning out my fish pond earlier in the year. I absolutely reeked of stagnant water and sweat by the time I finished, and my mind just wondered what Dean would do if he suddenly found himself face first in a pond full of stagnant, slimy, muddy water….. my mind just goes off on funny little tangents like that. Thanks hon – glad the banter is spot-on. And of course, I just had to have a clown convention to rattle poor Sammy’s cage.

Ilaria – I’m so pleased that I could bring a smile to your face, hon. Ahh, Dean arguing over whose turn it was to do the washing – I like little moments like that. They’re fun to write. And could you just picture the look on his face when Amber was spraying the air freshener? Oh, me – I’m a bad girl sometimes….

Tori – thanks hon. I know what you mean about the angst. Sometimes you just need a break from it all. Which is how this story came about. There is a tiny bit of angst in it, but not much. And of course, I just had to have a shower scene – lol.

Loz – thanks for that. Hello, she’s changed her banners again.. Whoa – that Jared one…*takes another peek*…man, he’s grown up to be a really attractive man. Rather smouldering, isn’t he? And no, no hurt Winchesters! How about that? Whatever’s wrong with me – ROFL! Don’t worry, I knock both of them out cold in the next story….*snickers evilly*… Glad you liked the shower scene – it was rather a nice little treat wasn’t it?

Pauline – thanks hon, glad I could get a laugh out of you. The beginning of the story was rather fun to put together, especially with Dean trying to look dignified after being immersed in smelly, stagnant, slimy, muddy water. It was all the goat’s fault – lol. Well, I had to get him in the shower somehow, didn’t I? Nice goat – good goat – here’s a cookie…now go and do it again…

Trickie – thanks for that. Ahh yes, clowns. I’m still waiting for Fredo to kill me over that one. This story is for her, and she happens to be afraid of clowns too – lol. I’ve never seen IT – have read the book, though – seriously creepy. My man was into Stephen King big time. But I’ve never understood the appeal of clowns myself. Poor Sammy – we do like to torture that boy…

Oceane – lol, thanks for that hon. There’s nothing worse than stagnant water – and it’s a pain to wash off. I know – I’ve been there, done that. Not fallen in, but had to drain the pond, get the fish out and scrub it all down before reapplying the sealer. And I tell you, it’s a yucky job. Ah, yes, the clown convention. That was a bit naughty of me, wasn’t it? I couldn’t resist – I’m bad, I know…*hangs head to hide evil smirk*…

Lorrie – it’s here! I’ll always put a link to the new story in the final replies of the old. I’ve been well trained by my readers – lol! Ohh, yes, I know all about your R-rated stuff. Hot, hot, HOT!!!!!! One needs to sit in a very cold bath while reading – ROFL! You’ll protect Sammy, hon? Better get in there, then. He’s hiding in the bathroom at the moment, needing a cuddle.

Kyle – at least he smells better at the end of the chapter than he did at the beginning – LOL. I’m chuffed that you got a laugh out of the boys’ antics. More mayhem to come – the clowns aren’t gone yet, and Dean still has to have his little encounter with the lovely Lucie. As for a souvenir – awww, that would be mean. Funny, but mean…let’s see what happens.

Irisheyes – love your Christmas Cottage banners. I’ve got the movie booked at the local Blockbuster for Christmas Eve. Looking forward to seeing it. Ah, yes, Sammy and clowns – not a good mix. I think the boys are in for a rough night.


Okay - let's meet the lovely Lucie. Oh, and there's a warning - clowns....lots of clowns.....

Thanks to Fredo for the coffee. If I ever make it to France, I'll have to get you to make me one of those frou-frou coffees - lol.


Chapter 2

Dean pushed open the door of the small coffee shop he’d discovered on the main street; inhaling the heady scents of freshly brewed coffee. He closed his eyes for a moment in appreciation before moving forward, flashing his best lady-killer smile at the petite brunette working behind the counter. “Hey, there.”

The woman turned, arching a finely shaped eyebrow at the tall, handsome stranger. “Hey, yourself,” she replied softly, her voice pleasantly accented.

“Two large coffees to go, please.”

“You like coffee, yes?”

French chick…nice… Dean’s shrewd gaze dropped to her hands, and his smile grew even wider. No ring – and no ring marks…very nice… Leaning an elbow on the counter, he raised one eyebrow. “I like coffee, yes.”

“You like good coffee?”

“I love good coffee.”

“You pay a lot for good coffee?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

The woman’s dark eyes twinkled with delight. “I make you best coffee you ever tasted, yes?”

“Bring it on.”

Settling on a chair at a nearby table, Dean watched in amusement as the woman carefully began to clean down the arm of the coffee machine.

“This is Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee – very special. One of the most expensive coffees in the world. The same beans are used to make Tia Maria coffee liqueur.” Her dark head dipped behind the gleaming coffee machine, followed by a hissing gurgle. “You will love this coffee.”

“Huh.” Dean looked up as the lithe brunette walked from behind the counter, a brimming ceramic cup held reverently in her hands. He nodded his thanks and took the cup.

“Don’t just taste,” the woman chided, sitting down opposite the bemused hunter. “Savour.”

“Savour – right.” Holding the cup under his nose, Dean drew in a deep breath, his eyes widening a little at the rich aroma emanating from the brew. “Nice,” he murmured in appreciation. Casting another glance at the coffee shop owner as she edged a little closer, he fought down a grin and took a sip.

The woman watched the look of pleased surprise cross the hunter’s face as the coffee hit his taste buds, her lips curving in a delighted smile. “You like, yes?”

Dean blinked in shock, his gaze flicking from the cup to the exotic beauty sitting in front of him. “This is – this is incredible!” He shook his head, and took another mouthful, letting the flavours dance on his tongue for a long moment before swallowing. “This is freakin’ fantastic!”

“I told you – is best coffee you ever tasted.” Extending an elegant hand, the woman grasped the hunter’s strong fingers. “I’m Lucie.”

“Dean.”

“Hello, Dean.” Lucie edged closer, until her knees were touching the leg of the handsome stranger. “I’m very happy that you came by.”

Dean grinned, his gaze roaming appreciatively over her slender figure. “So am I.” He leaned back in the chair and slowly sipped the enticing brew, savouring each rich mouthful. “Man, this is the best coffee I’ve ever had – ever.”

“So,” Lucie ventured, idly tracing patterns on the tabletop with one pink-painted fingernail. “You still want some coffee to go?”

“Oh, yeah.”

One finely arched eyebrow rose in curiosity. “Two cups? Two for you – or one for someone else?”

“Yeah – uh…” Dean shrugged, a tiny twinge of guilt stabbing him as he glanced at his watch. “My kid brother. He’s waiting back at the motel for me.”

“Kid?”

“Yeah.”

Lucie pursed her lips. “This kid brother – he likes good coffee, too, yes?”

Dean snorted in amusement. “Sam? That kid wouldn’t know a decent cup of coffee if it jumped up and bit him on the a–” He flushed and cleared his throat, rubbing one hand across the back of his neck. “Anyway, like I was sayin’ – he’s waitin’, so I guess I’d better get back to him.” Regretfully, he put down his empty cup and sighed. “So…”

“So – what kind of coffee does your little brother like?” Picking up the cup, the coffee shop owner returned to the machine and waited, one hand resting on her hip.

“Well…” Dean’s gaze roamed over the menu board up on the wall. “He likes that frou-fr – uh – latte – thing.” Waving a hand at the board, he gave an apologetic shrug and a half grin. “That fancy stuff.”

“Not fancy for you, though, eh?”

Dean’s ladykiller grin returned full-force. “Nope. Give it to me straight up, hot and strong.”

“I can do straight up,” Lucie winked before tapping a finger thoughtfully against her chin. “I know what I give your kid – café viennois. He will love it.”

“Okay.” The hunter watched the woman’s slender hands while she prepared the coffee.

“Is Viennese coffee,” Lucie explained while she worked. “Double espresso, cinnamon, whipped sugared cream and chocolate vermicellis.”

“He will love, yes.” Dean chuckled as he pulled out his wallet.

“So, Dean – you stay how long?”

“Just for the night. We gotta hit the road again in the morning.”

“One night. You maybe want more coffee for this one night?”

Dean’s eyes widened a fraction. Lucie stared back, a tiny smile curling her lips. Endless possibilities flashed through his mind. French chicks…and freakin’ clowns…His soaring spirits took a sharp nose-dive.

“I can stay back late. For you – is no trouble.”

“You know – I’d really love to, but…” Reluctantly, the tall hunter shook his head. Can’t leave Sammy alone all night with God knows how many creepy-ass clowns running around – ahh, jeez... “Maybe I’ll see you before we pull out, huh?”

“I’ll be here, Dean.”

Picking up the tray of takeout coffee, Dean gazed for a long moment into Lucie’s dark eyes. “Yeah – well – see you around, Lucie.” He slipped out the door before he could change his mind, and headed back to the Impala. Sliding behind the wheel, he threw one last longing glance at the coffee shop door. “Aww, man…”

Clearing his throat, Dean nestled the cardboard tray against his leg, half-closing his eyes in sheer pleasure as the mouth-watering fragrance of the freshly brewed coffee filled the car. It completely overpowered the mingled aromas of the supplies he’d already picked up; the spicy scent of the Chinese food, the sweet doughy smell of freshly baked doughnuts, and the lingering putrid stench of stagnant pond water.

Dean hummed under his breath as he drove back to his brother, hoping Sam wouldn’t be too freaked by the time he arrived. He really hadn’t planned on being away that long, but that coffee had been amazing – and so had the coffee shop owner, he thought with a twinge of regret. Dean sighed as he turned the last corner before the motel and glanced towards the door of their room. “Wonder if I can get the Sasquatch to agree to stay for one more n–”

The elder Winchester broke off in shock, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel as he stared at the motel parking lot. “Oh, holy crap…”

There were clowns everywhere – streaming out of the conference room, running around the parking lot, even spilling out onto the street. The setting sun and lengthening shadows made their white makeup and wide red smiles even more sinister. Dean took his foot off the gas and let the Impala coast almost to a stop, watching one JP Patches wanna-be riding up and down past the rooms on a tiny tricycle while honking a horn.

“Ah, Jeez – Sammy…” With his heart in his mouth, Dean got the Chevy moving again, threading the big black classic carefully through the shifting maze of bright wigs, floppy shoes and painted faces. By the time he pulled into the parking space outside room seventeen, he was feeling a little freaked out himself. Swallowing nervously, he grabbed the bags of food and tray of coffee and took a deep breath before striding to their room, worried at what condition his brother was going to be in by this time. “This is so not gonna be pretty.”

Casting a wary glance over his shoulder as he reached the slime-marked door, Dean stiffened when he spotted one of the multi-coloured entities rapidly approaching his position.

“Hey there, kid – wanna smell my flower?” The clown grinned maniacally as he fingered the bright pink plastic daisy stuffed in his lapel.

“Maybe some other…” Dean broke off as a thin stream of water hit him in the face. “…time,” he finished through clenched teeth. Giving a brief shake of his head to clear the excess droplets from his eyes, he loomed over the shorter man, a menacing scowl on his damp face. “You do that again, and the next time you want someone to smell that freakin’ daisy, you’ll have to bend over and drop your pants.”

The clown’s inane smile vanished and he backed away from the pissed off hunter, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, buddy…”

“Beat it before I kick your ass.”

“Geez, buddy – no need to get grumpy.” The man dropped his hands, a frown on his painted face. “Who the hell doesn’t like clowns?”

Dean gritted his teeth, balancing the food and drink precariously on one arm while he shoved the key in the lock. The door stuck again and he sighed before shooting a glare over his shoulder. “Someone with Coulrophobia, asshat.”

Ignoring the man’s stammered apology, Dean pushed against the door, sprung it open and slipped inside. He kicked it closed with his foot, shutting out the nightmare view of the overcrowded and noisy parking lot before looking around the shadowed room. A worried frown creased his brow when he saw that there had been some redistribution of the furniture in his absence.

The two-seater couch had been dragged across to the far wall and was situated between it and the bed. Piled on top of the green vinyl seat was a mound of pillows, almost like a child’s idea of a fortress. The bathroom door was slightly open, but no sound issued from within. “Sammy?”

A tousled head poked out from behind the door, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “There you are.”

Sam slowly emerged into the main room, a dull flush colouring his sweat-dappled face. “H-hey,” he muttered shakily, his too-wide eyes flicking to the door as a bicycle horn honked repeatedly outside the window. He glanced down at the salt gun clutched tightly in one white-knuckled hand and swallowed.

Dean pursed his lips, dumped the supplies onto the small table and strode back to the door to slip the safety chain on. “Noisy neighbours, huh?” he observed gently, grabbing the salt from the weapons duffle and laying a trail across the doorway and windowsills.

“Y-yeah.”

“Come on, dude, let’s dig in before it gets cold.” The elder Winchester began to lay out the food. He shot a glance at the shotgun in his brother’s hand, but wisely held his tongue. Perching on the chair closest to the door, he tugged the gun from Sam’s shaking fingers as the younger man sat down, and leaned it against the table leg within easy reach. “Got some Chinese.”

Sam chewed on his lower lip as he reached out to take the plastic fork from his sibling’s hand. A loud bang, followed by gales of laughter, sounded in the parking lot and he flinched, his pulse racing. Flicking a lightning glance at his brother, he read the concern in Dean’s eyes and forced himself to relax. “I’m all r-right.”

“Sure, you are.” Dean popped the lids off the containers and arranged them in front of his sibling before grabbing two plates from the cupboard behind Sam’s chair. “Here,” he added as he sat back down. “Dig in, dude. Got all your favourites.”

“Thanks.” Helping himself to a serving from each container, Sam pushed them towards his brother. “So – where the h-hell were you?”

“Oh – uh…” The green-eyed hunter gave an embarrassed grin. “Getting coffee.”

“D-did you have to f-fly to Brazil to get the beans?”

“Jamaica, actually.” Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s disbelieving huff. “Seriously, dude – you gotta come with me to this coffee shop I found. It’s run by this French chick, and man…” He held his hands in front of his chest. “She’s got the most amazing – ”

“Dean!”

“…espresso you’ve ever tasted,” the elder brother continued, undaunted. He reached out to grab one of the takeout coffees, checked the mark on the lid and put it beside his plate. Shoving the other cup towards his sibling, he gave a nod and a grin. “Try that, and tell me that’s not the best coffee you’ve ever had in your life.”

Throwing his grinning brother a dubious look, Sam prised off the lid to sniff suspiciously at the frothy brew. He detected the rich scent of coffee, cinnamon and chocolate, and his mouth watered in anticipation. Taking a tiny sip, he let the creamy beverage slide over his tongue. A pleased smile tugged at his lips as he raised his eyes to Dean’s expectant face.

“What did I tell you, huh?” Dean swatted Sam’s chest. “Best freakin’ frou-frou coffee you ever had.”

“It’s pretty good,” the younger hunter admitted softly, imbibing another mouthful. His hand tightened involuntarily around the flimsy paper cup as the bicycle horn honked again.

Dean shook his head. “Seriously, I’m gonna take the salt gun and shoot their asses if they keep that up.” He stabbed his fork viciously into his Szechuan chicken. “Creepy-ass bastards. No wonder they freak you out.”

The meal continued in companionable silence, broken only by the ruckus going on outside. By the time the brothers finished their meal and started on the doughnuts, Sam’s nerves were stretched almost to their limit. It took all his strength not to bolt away from the flimsy door and the terrifying horde rampaging around outside the room. His heart almost overflowed with gratitude when Dean shoved the garbage into the trash can and suggested they relocate to the bed for a game of cards.

The evening rapidly wore on, and the noise gradually died down as the clowns ran out of energy and retired to their respective rooms. Dean dealt another hand, feeling sorry for whichever unlucky restaurant or diner was about to get that particular group for dinner. He pretended not to notice Sam’s shaking hands and the fact that the younger hunter jumped at the slightest sound.

A babble of voices preceded the slamming of doors and revving car engines. Sam crushed the cards in his hands, glancing up at his big brother in mute apology as the cars departed from the parking lot, presumably on their way out to eat.

Dean nodded in understanding. “Chill, dude,” he murmured softly. “Dealer takes one.” Glancing towards the window as the sounds of the car engines faded away on the still night air, Dean pursed his lips and decided a distraction was in order. “So – you never did tell me what the hell it was out there this afternoon.”

“Uh – I’m pretty sure it was a goat.” Sam shrugged in apology. “The only concrete fact that my research turned up was a few eyewitness reports of a small white shape that gave a bleating cry. Everything else, including the banshee rumour, turned out to be just supposition.”

“Huh. Well, no harm in swinging by the property on our way out of town in the morning, just to make sure. We’ll run some EMF, and if it’s clean, we’ll move on.”

“Just don’t shoot the goat, all right?”

Dean grimaced, rubbing at his bruised hip. “No promises, Sammy.”

Silence descended once more, and the brothers played out a few more hands. Finally, Dean yawned, glanced at his watch and folded his cards. “I’m beat. You ready to call it a night?”

“Yeah.” Sam gathered the cards, shoved them into the pack and tossed it onto the top of Dean’s duffle. He got to his feet and stretched, glancing at the couch in resignation. “Flip you for the bed?”

“Dude, neither of us are gonna fit on that freakin’ couch, not unless we cut our legs off.” Dean shrugged at his sibling’s surprised expression. He switched on one of the lamps, turned out the main lights and checked the salt lines before stripping to his boxer briefs and tee shirt.

“We’re not gonna both fit on the bed, either, Dean.”

“Three rules, Sammy,” the elder Winchester stated mildly as he turned down the covers on the side closest to the door. He held up his fingers and ticked each point off. “Don’t steal the covers, don’t hog more than half the bed, and don’t kick me all damned night.”

Sam huffed in mock annoyance. “I don’t kick.”

“Yeah, you do. You’ve got this whole flailing thing happening when you sleep – it’s like sharing a bed with a freakin’ windmill.”

“Bite me. At least I don’t snore.”

“Sez who?” Dean grinned, avoiding a swat aimed at his shoulder as he walked into the bathroom to clean his teeth. The puke-inducing stench of stagnant water filled his nostrils and he fought down a gag reflex as he snatched the empty shampoo bottle from the top of the pile and placed it on the edge of the vanity unit. Scooping up the sodden clothes and towel, he dumped the soiled garments into the bathtub, running some more water on them to try to reduce the smell. “Man…”

His stomach churning, Dean quickly relieved himself, washed his hands, cleaned his teeth and exited the bathroom, vowing silently to take care of the reeking pile of clothes in the morning before they pulled out. Sam was just going to have to chill while they got the laundry done, because there was no way he was going to let them stink up the Impala, clowns or no clowns.

Dean headed for the bed, sliding between the sheets to settle comfortably on his side facing the door. Sam muttered under his breath as he walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. A few seconds later, Dean heard a strangled retch, and snickered into his pillow. The toilet flushed, water ran in the sink, and a couple of minutes later the door opened and the bathroom light went out.

Feeling the bed dip under his brother’s weight, Dean reached out and flicked off the bedside lamp.

“Man, your clothes really stink.”

“You hurled, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t. Bet you did, though.”

“Nah, not me. Cast iron stomach, Sammy. Takes a lot more than that to make me hurl. You, on the other hand…”

“In your dreams, Dean.”

There was a brief tug-of war for a fair share of the blankets before peace finally reigned.

It lasted for a whole hour, until the return of the fleet of carousing clowns shattered the silence. Dean jerked awake, cursing under his breath as he listened to the slamming doors and shouted goodnights. His fond hope that the racket wouldn’t wake his brother died a fiery death when he heard a faint whimper, followed by a gentle tug at the back of his tee shirt as Sam fisted his hand in the soft material. Dean didn’t have the heart to pull away or tease him about it.

Freakin’ clowns… Sighing softly, Dean snuggled into his pillow and drifted back to sleep.

* * * * *

Just after daybreak, Dean was pulled from a wonderful dream involving Lucie, some whipped cream and an endless supply of Blue Mountain coffee. He blinked groggily at the soft grey light filtering through the curtains, wondering what had disturbed his slumber.

He got his answer a few seconds later when a car door slammed, followed by a faint voice outside the door. Groaning softly, the sleepy hunter rubbed at his eyes before squinting at his watch. “What a ridiculous hour for anyone to be up,” he mumbled testily.

Rolling slightly towards the middle of the bed, he stretched – and then froze when he felt something hard digging into the small of his back. His face twisted into an expression of disgust. “Dude, that better be your knee.”

Jabbing his bent arm back, Dean was rewarded with a startled grunt as his elbow hit something warm and yielding.

“Wha’sa’for,” Sam’s sleep-roughened voice grumbled in his ear.

“Get your knee out of my back, Sasquatch.”

“S’rry.”

The elder hunter rolled his eyes as Sam untangled himself from the covers, pulling them half off his big brother in the process. “Dude…”

Sam knuckled the sleep from his eyes and pushed his tousled bangs off his forehead. “Time’zit?”

“Too freakin’ early.” Completing his stretch, Dean swung his legs off the bed and stepped to the window. Peering through the curtains, he checked the parking lot. There were fewer cars than there had been the previous night. “Hey, Sammy – I think the freaky-ass clowns are leaving. Convention must be over.”

He grinned at his brother’s muttered, “Thank God,” as Sam headed to the bathroom. Strolling over to the coffee pot, he rinsed it out and refilled it, setting it on to heat. Dean’s thoughts turned to the exotic beauty in the coffee shop and he pursed his lips, shooting a speculative look at his brother as Sam emerged from the bathroom. “Hey – why don’t we hang around for another day?”

Sam froze in the act of scooping his duffle off the floor, his face paling at the thought of having to spend another day in close proximity to his worst phobia. “Are you nuts?”

Dean held up a placating hand. “Chill, before you hurt yourself.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as a car engine revved outside. “Look, if the creepy clowns pull out today, it won’t be so bad. Looks like a nice little town.”

The younger hunter cast a dubious look at the window while he chewed absently on a knuckle.

“We’ll take some time off – get some laundry done, kick back and have some fun. It’ll be like a mini vacation. What do you say, huh?”

“Only if the clowns leave,” Sam muttered darkly. “And only because your clothes are making the bathroom smell like a swamp, and I’m so not sitting in the car with that stench.”

“That’s my little ray of sunshine,” Dean winked, chuckling at his brother’s raised middle finger. He finished making the pot of coffee and poured himself a cup, grimacing in disappointment at the bitter taste. “Wonder when the coffee shop’s gonna be open,” he murmured wistfully. “Hey, Sammy.”

“What?”

“Hurry up and get dressed.”

Sam looked at his watch in astonishment. “Dean – it’s only just after seven. What’s the rush?” He forced himself not to flinch when a door slammed in the room next door, followed by a babble of cheerful voices. Clowns – why the hell did it have to be clowns?

“Man, you gotta –” Dean broke off when a soft knock sounded at the door. He threw a quick glance at his slightly more respectably attired sibling and headed for the bathroom. “Jeez, I’m not dressed. Get the door, Sammy.”

“What? No way! You get it.”

The elder hunter scowled, and received a pointed look in reply. “Right, right – clowns.” Quickly snatching up the jeans he’d worn the night before, Dean tugged them on and fastened the stud before moving to the door. He peered through the peephole, smirked and gave the all-clear signal behind his back as he opened the door. “Amber, hey.”

The motel receptionist took a tiny step back, her face clouding in disappointment. “Oh – um…”

“Dean – older brother, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Amber twirled a lock of hair around her finger, surreptitiously trying to peer around the tall hunter. “Um – sorry if I woke you.”

“Nah, it’s okay. We were already awake.” Dean fought down a smirk as the girl leaned slightly sideways. He shifted his weight to his right foot, inclining his body just enough to allow her to see into the room. He almost laughed aloud at the way her amber eyes lit up when she caught sight of his little brother. We gotta stay another night, he decided. The Sasquatch just might get lucky. “So, Amber – was there something…”

“Hmm?” Bringing her attention back to the elder brother with difficulty, Amber cleared her throat and shuffled her feet. “Oh – um – I just wanted to say…” She hesitated when Sam came to the door, smiling up at the taller Winchester. “Oh, hi, Sam.”

Dean bit his lip to stop the snicker that was building in his throat.

“Hey.”

“So, anyway, I just wanted to tell you – you guys – that the convention’s over, so we’ve got lots of vacant rooms if you want to stay another night.” The flame-haired girl clasped her hands and looked hopefully up at the two tall hunters. “Um – it’s on the house. You know – ‘cos of all the noise last night.”

“You don’t have to –” Sam stifled a grunt when his sibling’s elbow jabbed him in the side.

“Well, that’s very kind of you, Amber. I was just sayin’ to my little brother that maybe we should stick around for another day. You know – kick back, have a little fun, sample the delights of the town.” Dean grinned widely, stepping on his brother’s foot in a warning gesture.

“You were?” Amber answered Dean, but she only had eyes for the shaggy haired Winchester.

Sam’s shoulders twitched uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

“Yeah.” Dean felt his brother’s restless movements and pressed harder on Sam’s foot, pinning it to the floor. “Sure we were. Isn’t that right, Sam?”

“Yes,” Sam gritted, stabbing his forefinger against the centre of his brother’s back until Dean released his trapped foot.

“Well, that’s great. Um – you want to see your new room? We still have to clean it – you know – but you can have a look, and tell me if it’s okay.”

“Great. Come on, Sam.” Grabbing their room key, Dean stepped outside, casting a cautious glance around the parking lot. There were still a few people milling around, thankfully in street clothes instead of the outlandish clown garb they’d worn the previous day. He made sure to keep between his brother and the strangers when the younger man emerged hesitantly from the relative safety of their room. Letting Sam draw slightly ahead, Dean brought up the rear as they followed the pretty young receptionist.

Amber led the brothers back towards the office, stopping outside the door to room seven. Tossing a happy smile over her shoulder, she let her admiring gaze wander briefly down the considerable length of the younger hunter before turning the key in the lock.

Sam shuffled from foot to foot, an embarrassed flush colouring his cheeks. Wishing he’d thought to don a pair of jeans instead of leaving the room clad in his usual night attire of tee shirt and sweatpants, he followed the girl inside. His blush deepened when he heard his sibling’s stifled chuckle.

Coming to a halt in the middle of the new room, Amber spread out her arms and turned to face the hunters. “Well? What do you think?”

Dean looked around, and nodded in approval. The room was spacious and seemed fairly clean, despite the unmade beds, full trashcan, and empty cups and beer bottles lined up along the counter top. “It’s great. We’ll take it.”

“Awesome.” Twirling a lock of her hair once more around her finger, Amber checked her watch. “Well, the housemaid won’t be in until eight, so the room should be ready about two hours after that. Is that okay?”

“Super. We’ll get some breakfast, run a few errands, then come back and shift our stuff once the room’s ready.” Eyeing his brother in amusement, Dean continued, “Sam’ll come by and get the key later.”

“I’ll be here.”

Huffing in annoyance, the taller hunter turned to leave. His eyes dropped to the floor under the window and he slammed to a halt, sucking in a gasp. “H-holy…”

Dean spun on his heel, eyes narrowing as he searched the room for danger, one hand automatically darting to his waistband to grab the pistol that was usually tucked there. Letting a whispered curse slip when he remembered that his gun was still back in their old room, Dean turned the movement into a scratch of his lower back. The green-eyed hunter’s wary gaze slid past the fuzzy object lying on the floor, and swiftly returned when his brain helpfully identified the bright blue mass.

Great – freakin’ clown wig. There goes the Sasquatch’s chance of getting laid… Striding over to the window, Dean bent down to scoop up the offending item, giving a tiny sigh as he turned to face his freaked out sibling.

Amber’s gaze skated back and forth between the two Winchesters. “What’s wrong? Sam?”

“Guh…”

“Uh – he’s – he’s got Coulrophobia,” Dean interjected, wincing. There was no covering it up – not while his kid brother was standing there looking like he’d just seen a ghost. Well, looking like a civilian who’s just seen a ghost, he corrected himself silently. His eyes widened when the girl stepped to Sam’s side and laid a hand on his forearm in sympathy.

“Oh, me too. I hate having them here.” Amber suppressed a shiver.

Dean suppressed a smirk.

“But they pay well, and it’s only once every two years, so…” Shrugging, the young receptionist glanced again at her watch and heaved an unhappy sigh. “Well, I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you later, Sam?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” Sam watched her go before glancing at Dean. A frown creased his brow when he saw his brother’s grin. “What?”

“Dude, if you don’t get laid before we leave here, there’s something seriously wrong with you.”

The younger hunter’s face blanked for a moment. Stiffening his tall frame, he pushed past his brother and stormed from the room without another word.

Dean blinked in surprise. “What the hell did I say?” Glancing at the fuzzy blue wig still clutched in one hand, he grimaced before slam-dunking it into the overflowing trash can. “Scores,” he muttered, half-heartedly pumping his fist in the air. “And maybe if he does, he’ll be a little less pissy.”

Pouting a little, the elder Winchester returned to their room, his fertile brain already hatching a plan to get his uptight little brother laid.

* * * * *

Next week - Sam meets Lucie, Dean formulates his plan, and the boys have a little talk about women....

I'd just like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and a Happy and Prosperous New Year. Take care over the silly season.

Bless you all,

Jules

Awwwww what a lovely story Jules, exactly what the doctor ordered this morning, because I think I'm on angst overload especially after yesterday.

I love how Sam is so oblivious about Amber but I'm getting the feeling there's something more going on there and Dean, awesome as always, trying to take care of his brother in the best way he knows.

Great stuff and as it'll be Christmas before we know it, I really hope you and all your family have a very Merry Christmas. All the best for 2009 too.

Dear oh dear oh dear, what have you been doing to my boys?

I sense that Sam just might get lucky, now Dean more than likely will, I certainly wouldn't knock either one back.

Well I'll see you in the morning, I've had enough for the night, the rest of the 12's stuff will have to wait.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Chris

Yet another awesome chapter sis

OMG poor Sam, clowns seem to be crawling out of the woodwork increasing his agitation! Meanwhile trust Dean to find a coffee shop with a flirtatious French owner who seems to not only have a passion for coffee but the hots for the older Winchester as well! Poor Dean having to get back to his traumatised brother rather than linger with Lucie!

Not surprised that Dean suggested staying on another day, especially with the clowns leaving, and the fact that Amber offered them another room (and herself on a plate to Sam) sealed the decision for the elder brother! But with Sam's hesitancy and shyness just how is Dean going to persuade him to ask Amber on a hot date, so he can go and sample more than Lucie's coffee beans!

Have a great Christmas Jules, hope you and Chris have a wonderful time in the sweltering heat! It will probably be damp and cold here!

Hope 2009 is an awesome year for you too - well, it is bound to be as you will be meeting Jared and Jensen

Thanks for all the enjoyment you have given us this year with your stories Jules, it's much appreciated. Loves ya heaps sis

And just love your Christmas banner Chris!

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE!

Sarah