Pueblo, CO

October 1990

Eleven-year old Dean Winchester hadn't mentioned to his young brother Sam how petrified Sam had appeared just looking at the haunted house, long before the adventure had even started. Dean amused himself with the idea of making Sam jump a few times by his own account, but the house alone was completing the job for Dean. He scoffed at the appearance. It was an old grocery mart, long abandoned and fashioned into a "haunted house" each year around Halloween for dumb tourists who were perfectly willing to cough up twenty bucks a person in exchange for a few cheap scares. Dean had seen worse things in his day, evil things, real things. It would take more than some college kids in masks to get him to jump.

But John insisted. Once Sam discovered the truth about their family, John was determined to make Sammy grow up much faster than Dean wanted. Taking the kids through some "haunted houses" would help him break out of his childhood fears and learn how to look evil in the face, laugh, and pull the trigger. Sam would be a fine hunter. Like father, like son—and other son.

When they came to the bottom of a wooden staircase, Sam froze in place again. Dean sighed. There were several people trying to get through the house behind them. They couldn't keep stopping. "Come on, Sam," Dean said, tugging on Sam's arm. Sam refused to budge.

"Something's gonna pop out as us up there," Sam whimpered. He clung to Dean's arm and buried his head in Dean's side.

Dean groaned. "Probably, yeah. So what? None of this is real."

"It's real to me," Sam sniveled.

Dean glanced up at John helplessly. John just shrugged a shoulder. This was up to the two of them to work out. That was the whole point.

Dean gestured for the people behind them to pass by. He bent his back so he could see his brother eye-to-eye. "As long as I'm here, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Okay? You're my brother, and as long as I'm around, nothing can touch you."

The longer Dean stared into Sam's big brown eyes, the more pity he felt for the kid. His vexation evaporated. Poor Sammy. Thrown into this big, terrifying world long before he was ready. Dean would never admit how much John angered him by putting Sam through this so early. He'd done the same to Dean, but Sam wasn't ready.

Sam wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

Dean firmly patted Sam's shoulder. "Let's get through this stupid house and go get some burgers, okay?"

The fear in Sam's eyes drained, replaced by calm and hope. He nodded eagerly. "Okay."

Dean and Sam headed up the stairs side-by-side. They rounded the corner after the first flight of stairs and headed up the next. Sam still clenched Dean's arm, but at least he wasn't standing still anymore. The grip lessened as they got to the top of the second flight of stairs.

Suddenly from a catwalk above, a grisly clown leaped down and landed hard in front of the boys. He let out a terrifying laugh and reached for Sam, as though to scratch the boy across the face with his long, red nails.

"DE-E-E-EAN!" Sam cried, tears sprouting in his eyes.

Dean brought his fist back and launched it into the clown's jaw.

The costumed man stumbled backwards in a daze, cradling his jaw in his hand.

"Dean!" John barked. "What the hell are you doing!?"

Dean couldn't answer at first. He was still processing what had just happened. He hadn't even planned to punch that damn clown—the hit had just surfaced from him as a natural reaction to Sam's cry.

John stepped towards the clown. "Are you alright, sir?"

The man turned away and waved them all, seeming less hurt and more embarrassed that he'd just been clocked by a little kid.

John grabbed Dean's arm. "Come on."

The Winchesters headed out of the haunted house backwards, ignoring people's commands to stay in line and expressing they were going the wrong way. Outside the house, John finally released Dean and stood before his son, arms folded across his chest. Sam stood timidly at Dean's side.

"What did you do that for?" John asked.

"I thought he was gonna hurt Sammy," Dean retorted stormily.

John rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "They can't really touch you in there, Dean, for liability reasons. I told you that."

"I know." Dean's tone stayed dark. "I'm sorry, alright? I wasn't thinking about it."

John let his arms drop to his side. "Well...I know why you did it. Good on you for protecting your brother. But it was just a man in a costume. It was all pretend in there."

In there, sure, Dean thought. Not out here. Not in our lives.

John ruffled Sam's hair. "You okay, Sammy?"

Thumb in his mouth, Sammy nodded wordlessly.

John looked up, sighing. "Well, no more haunted houses for a while. Let's get on home."

"What about dinner?" Dean asked.

"We'll find something to whip up at home."

"I promised Sam we'd have burgers for dinner."

"Sorry, Dean, my money went to the haunted house tonight."

Dean reached into the pocket of his jeans and fished out several crumpled bills. "I'll pay. Even for you, if you want something."

John smiled, lips pursed. "Okay." he said.

Sam pulled Dean aside on the walk back to the car. "Thanks for saving me," Sam said.

"Don't mention it."

"I knew it was just a trick, but when I'm scared, it's hard to tell what's real and what's not real."

Dean stopped walking. He slowly spun Sam around to make him look at him. "It's like I told you before. Scary things are real. But as long as you're my brother, I won't let anything happen to you."

"I'll always be your brother."

"Exactly."

Sam grinned. "Thanks, Dean." He spun back around and met up with John at his side.

Dean cranked his neck towards the haunted house. He heard a piercing scream from inside.

Haunted houses are stupid.