ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ||ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴄʟᴏᴡɴ (ᴘᴛ 2)

Inside a tent, a man is throwing knives at a target; they all land near but not quite on the bulls-eye. Dean, Sam, and Y/N walk in.

"Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?" Dean asks.

"What is that, some kind of joke?" The man pulls off his sunglasses, revealing that he is blind.

"Oh. God, I'm, I'm sorry," Dean says.

"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?" Y/N and Sam smirk at Dean.

"Wanna give me a little help here?" Dean says quietly to Sam and Y/N.

"Not really."

"Your fault," Y/N says. Dean chuckles in annoyance.

"Hey man, is there a problem?" Dean, Sam, and Y/N turn, then look down to see an extremely short man in a red cape.

"Yeah, this guy hates blind people."

"No, I don't, I..."

"Hey buddy, what's your problem?"

"Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding," Y/N winces, knowing he messed up.

"Little?! You son of a bitch!" The short man says, lifting his bat.

"No, no, no! I'm just, could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is?" Sam and Y/N laugh. "Please?"

"I'm sorry for my brother's... stupidity. But we really need to see Mr. Cooper," Y/N asks, smiling. The short man nods.

"At least she had some respect."

==

The three head into Mr. Cooper's office.

"You three picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat." Dean looks at the available chairs; one is normal, the other is pink, with a giant clown face on it. He beats Sam to the normal chair. Sam scowls and looks to Y/N, who is shaking her head. She walks over and sits on the clown chair. Sam then sits on the arm of the clown chair, slowly sitting down. "We've got all kinds of local trouble."

"What do you mean?" Y/N asks.

"Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever worked the circuit before?"

"Yes sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas."

"Yeah," Dean says, and Y/N nods her head.

"Doing what? Ride jockeys? Butcher? ANS men or woman?"

"Yeah, it's, uh, a little bit of everything, I guess."

"You three have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?"

"I mean when I was 9, I played in my school play before... If that counts," Dean looks to Y/N, then back at Mr. Cooper.

"Nope. But we really need the work. Oh, and, uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady," Dean chuckles and Sam scowls over at him causing his laughter to slowly fade.

"You see that picture?" Mr. Cooper points behind him. "That's my daddy."

"You look just like him," Sam says.

"He was in the business. Ran a freak show. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So, most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you three? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls and a man. Have two point five kids. Live regular." Y/N is about to say something, but Sam leans forward, eyes serious.