SPN Coda: Everybody Loves A Clown?
So, I wrote this today because I was a little bit bored at work, and I wanted to make stone_princess laugh. Then I realized it kinda sorta worked as a coda, so here it is! Totally inspired by the Dear Dean panel at Wincon. Because sometimes Dean is kind of a douche. *g*
Everybody Loves A Clown Coda (Alternately titled: Sometimes Dean Is Kind Of A Douche)
So the clown thing was totally not Dean's fault. Not entirely. Not at first, anyway. Yeah, okay, so he's the one who told Sam that clowns were evil, but it was for a good cause.
See, Sammy was eight or nine. More like five or six, maybe. The point is, they were in some stupid motel while Dad was off hunting, and it was across the street from a McDonalds, and Dean was all restless and antsy because he was old enough to help, dammit! He was stuck babysitting Sam who would not shut up about wanting to go see Ronald McDonald. Dean finally told him no, flat-out and Sam started to cry.
"Trust me, Sammy. You don't want to go anywhere near that clown," Dean told him. "Clowns are evil."
Sam gave him a doubtful look, but he stopped crying. "Yeah?"
"Sure. Don't you know anything?" Dean said with the superiority that comes from being the oldest and wisest. He held out a kleenex. "Blow your nose. They hypnotize you with the bright colors, and then suck your soul out through your eyeballs. Then you're like a zombie and you hafta be a mime forever. You don't want to be a mime, do you?"
Sam shook his head, though Dean wasn't sure he actually knew what a mime was at that point.
The next time Dad tried to take them to McDonalds, Sam screamed and refused to step foot inside. When Dad looked at Dean for an explanation, Dean shrugged as if to say, "How should I know? He's a little freak."
Whatever. Dean was just being a good brother.
So maybe Dean used it to his advantage a few times after that, but who wouldn't?
Like the one time they watched IT on TV, because Sam, who was tenish at the time, was being a little snot, and Dean thought it'd be funny. (It totally was, and in Dean's defense, Sam was a little snot all the time.)
Sam didn't get much past the first few scenes before he freaked out and made Dean salt the entire fucking room. And sleep with the lights on. For two weeks. Dean felt vaguely guilty for awhile, but that didn't stop him from whispering, "Down here we all float" right as Sam was about to fall asleep for several nights in a row.
Dad started getting his own room after that.
Of course, Dean might've gone a little overboard that Halloween when he waited for Sam to fall asleep before dressing up in the clown costume he'd found at Value Village, complete with Evil Clown makeup, and then woke Sam up by screaming "HAPPY HALLOWEEN" and brandishing his best hunting knife.
In retrospect, he probably could have left the knife off.
Sam shrieked like a girl and flailed for some sort of weapon before throwing a plastic spoon (which Dean had put on the night table in place of Sam's knife because Dean wasn't stupid) at Dean's forehead.
Of course, at that point Dean was laughing so hard he almost peed himself. He justified the whole thing by claiming Halloween was made for shit like that.
This meant that he didn't really have an excuse the next two or three times he did it, on random weeknights when he didn't have anything better to do.
No, scratch that. His excuse was that it Never. Got. Old. And Sam was sixteen. He should have been able to handle it.
"I'm trying to help you face your fears, Sammy."
"I really, really hate you."
Thus started the second round of the Great Prank Wars, though it seemed to Dean that at times Sam was in it more for revenge than the pure joy of doing stupid shit, which was a little tragic, really. There was only so much Dean could do if Sam wasn't willing to meet him halfway.
"You know, you should really thank me," Dean said as they were driving back from the carnival. "I mean, who's the one who warned you about clowns in the first place?"
Sam made bitchface at him and then turned away. "Don't talk to me."
"I'm just sayin'." Dean leaned back in his seat a little and grinned. After all, what were big brothers for?
Everybody Loves A Clown Coda (Alternately titled: Sometimes Dean Is Kind Of A Douche)
So the clown thing was totally not Dean's fault. Not entirely. Not at first, anyway. Yeah, okay, so he's the one who told Sam that clowns were evil, but it was for a good cause.
See, Sammy was eight or nine. More like five or six, maybe. The point is, they were in some stupid motel while Dad was off hunting, and it was across the street from a McDonalds, and Dean was all restless and antsy because he was old enough to help, dammit! He was stuck babysitting Sam who would not shut up about wanting to go see Ronald McDonald. Dean finally told him no, flat-out and Sam started to cry.
"Trust me, Sammy. You don't want to go anywhere near that clown," Dean told him. "Clowns are evil."
Sam gave him a doubtful look, but he stopped crying. "Yeah?"
"Sure. Don't you know anything?" Dean said with the superiority that comes from being the oldest and wisest. He held out a kleenex. "Blow your nose. They hypnotize you with the bright colors, and then suck your soul out through your eyeballs. Then you're like a zombie and you hafta be a mime forever. You don't want to be a mime, do you?"
Sam shook his head, though Dean wasn't sure he actually knew what a mime was at that point.
The next time Dad tried to take them to McDonalds, Sam screamed and refused to step foot inside. When Dad looked at Dean for an explanation, Dean shrugged as if to say, "How should I know? He's a little freak."
Whatever. Dean was just being a good brother.
So maybe Dean used it to his advantage a few times after that, but who wouldn't?
Like the one time they watched IT on TV, because Sam, who was tenish at the time, was being a little snot, and Dean thought it'd be funny. (It totally was, and in Dean's defense, Sam was a little snot all the time.)
Sam didn't get much past the first few scenes before he freaked out and made Dean salt the entire fucking room. And sleep with the lights on. For two weeks. Dean felt vaguely guilty for awhile, but that didn't stop him from whispering, "Down here we all float" right as Sam was about to fall asleep for several nights in a row.
Dad started getting his own room after that.
Of course, Dean might've gone a little overboard that Halloween when he waited for Sam to fall asleep before dressing up in the clown costume he'd found at Value Village, complete with Evil Clown makeup, and then woke Sam up by screaming "HAPPY HALLOWEEN" and brandishing his best hunting knife.
In retrospect, he probably could have left the knife off.
Sam shrieked like a girl and flailed for some sort of weapon before throwing a plastic spoon (which Dean had put on the night table in place of Sam's knife because Dean wasn't stupid) at Dean's forehead.
Of course, at that point Dean was laughing so hard he almost peed himself. He justified the whole thing by claiming Halloween was made for shit like that.
This meant that he didn't really have an excuse the next two or three times he did it, on random weeknights when he didn't have anything better to do.
No, scratch that. His excuse was that it Never. Got. Old. And Sam was sixteen. He should have been able to handle it.
"I'm trying to help you face your fears, Sammy."
"I really, really hate you."
Thus started the second round of the Great Prank Wars, though it seemed to Dean that at times Sam was in it more for revenge than the pure joy of doing stupid shit, which was a little tragic, really. There was only so much Dean could do if Sam wasn't willing to meet him halfway.
"You know, you should really thank me," Dean said as they were driving back from the carnival. "I mean, who's the one who warned you about clowns in the first place?"
Sam made bitchface at him and then turned away. "Don't talk to me."
"I'm just sayin'." Dean leaned back in his seat a little and grinned. After all, what were big brothers for?