Hey guys!!! Sorry it's taken me so long to update, but I've been really busy lately focusing on college applications and just my senior year in general. I decided to update when I went on to FF and saw that it had been over A MONTH!!! GAG. I don't even want to think how long it's been since I've updated my OTHER story…sigh…oh well, consider this a thanksgiving thanks, since my little break is the reason this is being written…
DISCLAIMER: The usual. I own nothing of SN but seasons 1 and 2, and that's legal…
tona234angel: awww, you were my first review! Glad you love it, hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.
julsus: glad you love the humor, and I tried to incorporate more of the case into this chapter while still keeping it funny. Hope it satisfies!
ghostbehindyou: Those were my thoughts as well. Dean just wouldn't be the same if he didn't shake things up a bit with the language:P
Dean woke up the next morning with a confused look on his face. He looked around, not registering where he actually was. He turned his head only to grab it when his neck kinked up. He was lying in the bathtub, a blanket covering his torso while his legs dangled over the edge.
What happened to him last night returned in bits and pieces, and with every second his face turned darker and darker with rage. That little bitch is not going to know what hit him. Dean gave an evil grin and rose out of the tub, only to fall right back down on his butt when his legs gave out.
He stretched and got out of the tub a second time, cursing the day that a certain Samuel Winchester was ever born. He began getting dressed, refusing to make an appearance until he was begged…
"Come on, Dean. I need to get in there! Stop being a jerk." Sam needed to use the restroom, but he had not wanted to be the first to crack. His bladder, however, had a mind of its own. "I really do need to get in there."
"Sorry, Sammy. No can do. I'm busy trying to make your bladder explode, and allowing you to relieve yourself would destroy my life-long mission before I leave this world in peace." Dean grinned while brushing his teeth, hearing the desperation rising in Sam's voice.
"Whatever man, I'll be back." Sam slammed the motel door behind him and walked over to the front office. He rang the bell and the lady from the previous night came over.
"How can I help you? Do you need something?"
"Yeah, actually. Can I use your restroom? My brother suffers from dysfunctional bowel syndrome, and some days it's just not pretty."
"Oh, you poor thing. And your brother too. You can use my bathroom any time you want. It's the last door down the hall to your left." Sam nodded his thanks and turned away, grinning as he walked to the restroom. 5 minutes later, he heard the distinct yell of his name, and walked out to face his brother.
"SAM!" Dean was in front of the desk, a mortified expression on his beet-red face. The Hotel owner looked at him with understanding.
"I was just offering your brother here some Preparation H. My husband uses it; it has changed his life for the better. It must be very uncomfortable for him." She turned back to Dean, who refused to look her in the face. "I'll be right back with it." She turned away and went through a door.
"Dude, why the hell did she just offer me some of that crap?"
Sam pondered a moment before answering, "Maybe because you don't make enough of it?" The look on Dean's face made Sam break out into a wide grin. Dean looked like he wanted to say something back, but knowing that the woman would be returning very soon, he settled with some very choice words, a hard shove past Sam and a slam of the door behind him.
The woman returned with the ointment and looked around for Dean. Seeing that he was not there she turned to Sam.
"Did he change his mind? It really works wonders."
Sam was at the coffee shop waiting for Dean to come back with their drinks. He had done research on their next gig, and it looked like they were going to have a hell of a time with it.
Dean came up behind him and handed the coffee over. He sat down, giving Sam an annoyed look, still peeved about earlier.
"Tell me what you got."
"Well, it seems that there is some history behind the area where the murders took place. The area is called Tulare Lake. It used to be running lake, but over the years it dried out. The land was bought up a week ago by Waste Management Inc., where they plan on opening a hazardous waste disposal facility.
"Now, in 1830, a man by the name of Joaquin Murrieta was born…"
"Wait, like Zorro's brother from The Mask of Zorro? I love that movie!"
"Yeah Dean. We're dealing with Zorro's brother. Now if we can get back to reality? Anyway, Murrieta's family was killed in 1851 by some gold miners, and after that he became a loose cannon, robbing from the rich. He became known as 'The Bandit of the Goldfields,' and a price was placed on his head. In 1853, he was killed by a Captain Harry Love while camping out in Tulare Lake. His head was cut off and displayed in the Golden Nugget Saloon in San Francisco until it was lost in the earthquake of 1906."
"Great. So the head is A-WOL? That's just freakin awesome."
"Yeah, I know. I think out best bet is to try and find out more about the history of the Saloon and if anything was kept in storage."
Well, what are we waiting for? Let's hit it."
"Well, that was a complete bust." It was late into the night when Sam and Dean returned to the motel, and none the wiser about the hunt or the origin of Murrieta's head. Dean was irritated and cranky, and even Sam knew not to mess with him right now.
"Well, we can try checking out the underground market, see if maybe it's been circulating that way."
"Yeah, maybe." Dean sighed, rubbing his temples to try and avoid the oncoming headache.
"Hey man, are you all right? You don't look so well."
"Is that your scientific hypothesis, college boy? Yeah Einstein, I feel like climbing Mount Everest right now. Go grab me my pick and snow shoes." Sam ignored the comment and came up to Dean, trying to check out his status.
"Dude, could you be any more 'Leave it to Beaver' mom right now? Get away. I just need some sleep."
"Whatever." Sam sighed and backed away, not up to fighting with Dean right now. He went to the restroom and got ready for bed. When he got out of the restroom, he saw that Dean had already knocked out for the night, so he turned off all the lights and settled in for the night as well…Later that night…
Sam felt something standing over him, making his nose itch. He shifted in the bed, scratching his nose but not being able to shake the feeling.
He paused, his eyes closed, trying to wake up. His eyes fluttered open, only to see a clown with a dagger standing over his head, a maniacal smile plastered on its face. Sam froze, a scream building inside his throat. The clown began to thrust the knife down onto Sam, which finally allowed Sam's scream to break free before the blackness consumed him…
Sam woke up to Dean's voice.
"You have got to be the biggest wimp I have ever met." Sam looked at his surroundings, realizing that he was on the floor by his bed. Dean was kneeling beside him, dagger and clown mask beside his foot, discarded and forgotten. Sam looked disbelievingly at Dean.
"That was you?"
"No Sammy. It really WAS THE killer clown himself. He decided your time was up, and asked me to help. It was really fun. Afterwards, I met the tooth fairy!" Dean said this sarcastically, but at the same time, he was removing his hand from Sam's shoulder, where he had placed it in his haste to see if his brother really was all right. Now that he saw Sammy was not going to die of a heart attack, he was going to relish in the success of his prank.
"Man, you should have seen the look on your face. It was like meeting Ronald McDonald all over again. But this time, you were 23, not 3. I mean, come on man, don't embarrass the Winchester name. It's all you got, cuz you most certainly didn't get the looks."
"Get lost. That was a mean ass thing to do. And might I remind you, you have a phobia of rats."
"Hey, Willard can happen."
"Yeah well, IT has happened."
Sam jerked his body away from Dean's on the floor and stood up, fuming at him. But even worse than that, he was angry with himself for falling for such an easy prank. I really must be a wimp. Sam took the clown mask, went outside to the back alley, and set it on fire. "Better to be safe than sorry."
When he returned, Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed.
"Were you even sick?"
"Not really. Just wanted to make you turn in early. I'm a freakin genius."
"Yeah Dean, let's call up Mensa now."
"awww, you're just mad that I got you back good, Sammy. Ready to throw in the towel? I mean, if you can't play with the big dogs, get off the court." Dean grinned at his little metaphor, thinking it would make an awesome shirt…
"Not even over my dead body."
"Dramatic much?" Sam ignored Dean and got back in bed. We'll see. Sammy went to bed dreaming up ideas on just how to repay Dean for Sam's little midnight surprise…
Well, there you have it, chapter 2. Sorry it took so long, and I'll try not to let it go that long again. Please review and let me know what you think. And if you guys have any ideas for pranks, let me know and maybe I'll use them in the future!!!! Thanks you guys!