The carnival lights flickered in the distance, casting an eerie glow over the empty parking lot. The air smelled of popcorn and cotton candy, but there was something else, something off. Sam stood next to you, arms crossed, his posture rigid. His eyes scanned the area with clear frustration, his lips set in a thin line.

I really don’t get why it’s always clowns…

He muttered, barely keeping his voice level. You could almost feel the disgust rolling off him, a tension that wasn’t just about the creepy circus. It was personal, and it made you smile despite the situation. Sam Winchester, terrified of clowns. A sound from behind made you both turn. A clown, its painted smile wide and unnatural, stumbled out of the tent. Sam’s body immediately tensed, and before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward him. His hand rested on your back, ushering you forward.

We need to go…

He growled, dragging you with him. You barely had time to process the movement before he was walking briskly, pulling you behind him with a firm grip. He didn’t stop until you were a safe distance away, out of the carnival’s sight. Sam’s breathing was heavy, a mixture of anger and relief. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at the ground, trying to shake off the moment.

I swear, if one more clown even looks at me… I’m burning the whole place down.

You chuckled, but Sam didn’t share the humor. He glanced at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself.

Next hunt, I’m picking the location.