Clowns and Helium
Summary: Kids are dying with smiles on their faces. Dean must face two of his biggest fears… clowns and entertaining children.
Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I don't own Supernatural. If you do use any part of my story, please just inform me and give me credit.
"Dean, just stop it! I swear, you are like a dog with a bone."
Sam pushed Dean's hands away for the tenth time, preventing him from drawing yet another line or picture on any part of his exposed skin. Dean smirked, knowing he could go at least another fifteen minutes without pissing Sam off enough to make him worry for his personal safety. Still, Sam was doing them both a favor by finding the next gig as fast as he could, but being cooped up in this one horse town –What kind of town doesn't even have a bar?- was making Dean go stir crazy.
He sat contemplating how hard it would be to draw a pentagram on his brother's bare foot when Sam gave a small gasp.
"Dean, I think I got something." He leaned in toward the screen as Dean walked around behind him.
"Pristo, Pennsylvania. A boy was found dead in his bed the day after his eighth birthday. The article says he had no major bodily injuries, but get this. When the parents found him, his eyes were wide open and he was smiling."
"Smiling? Like happy smiling?"
"Kinda. His lips were smiling, but the rest of his face was contorted, like in horror. The coroner said if it wasn't for the smile, he would have thought the kid died of fright. Also, some blood vessels had popped in his eyes, making them bleed. Apparently, this is the fourth kid in as many weeks. Some other papers are calling it the Bloody Teared Killer, even though there are no signs of another person in the room when the kids die."
Dean straightened up, smacking Sam on the back.
"Great, let's get going brother. We got a bit of drive to go."
"Yup. I'll get the bags, you check out." Sam stood as he shut down the laptop, packing it up and moving onto his clothing bag.
Dean nodded and grabbed his jacket from his bed. He glanced at Sam's back for a second before taking the quick walk to the front desk, a grin plaster on his face. See, that's what happen when you are wrapped up in your work. You don't notice the little things. Like a smilie face on your neck.
Author's note: Short chapter, I know. But it's a set up for the rest of the fic. It's going to be humorous (hopefully). I'll be updating as soon as I can.