The Denizens: they know what they want, and they know how to get it. Le sigh.

SPECIAL BONUS FEATURE: DELETED SCENE FROM BETWEEN CHAPTER TWENTY AND EPILOGUE!

Upstairs at Singer Salvage

Sam:Waaaaaah! I hate clooooooooowns! *sniff*

Downstairs at Singer Salvage

Dean: Oooooooow, it huuuuuuurts!

Bobby: Serves you right for tryin' that reciprocatin' force-out, ya idjit.

Dean's bottom lip wobbles perilously

Bobby: I could always rub some of that liniment on your...

Dean: AAAAAAAARRRGH!

White van with DENIZENS' DEAN DESTRESSING & SAM SOOTHING SERVICES on the side pulls up at Singer Salvage.

*knock knock knock*

Bobby: ? ? ? ?

He answers door. The DDD&SSS are lined up on the porch. They sing their jingle.

DDD&SSS: Have your Winchesters been roughed up by an evil clowning act?
Do you need someone to sort them out with tenderness and tact?
Call DDD&SSS for boo-boos great or small,
We're local and we're prompt and they will hardly scream at all.

Bobby: Thank goodness you're here, those idjits are driving me mad.

Georgia: Hmmmm. *assumes concerned expression* What are their symtoms?

Bobby: Sam's sooking like a three year old, and Dean has suddenly turned into a blushing shy violet.

aeicha: I don't like the sound of that shyness. Could be very serious. *frowns seriously*

Darla M: Have you tried any treatment for their symptoms, Mr Singer?

Bobby: I gave Sam a lettuce wrapped in an old towel, and tucked a porn mag under Dean's pillow.

KnightJelly: Hmmmmm. Did this provide any symptomatic relief? Alleviation of wibbles, wobbles or sooking?

Bobby: Not really; Sam's puppy-dog eyes have hit Level Awwwwww, and if Dean's bottom lip wobbles any harder, seismologists are gonna start gettin' excited.

Leahelisabeth: Hmmmmm. Allow us to confer a moment with our colleagues.

*DDD&SSS operatives go into a huddle, and make erudite-sounding noises*

Maybe-moey, d767464, stupid-nickel, Lilith L and bearberry: Harumph harumph harumph harumph harumph HARUMPH HARUMPH harumph harumph. Harumph.

Steelhorse67: Upon extensive discussion, we believe we know what is wrong with your Winchesters.

keacdragon (nodding sagely): We believe that your poor, poor boys are suffering from a constellation of ailments. First of all, Sam clearly has Circus Perkus, the urge to throw up every time he thinks about clowns.

vsama (nodding in agreement): While Dean has Circus Bezerkus, an affliction caused by unwise trapezing.

Bobby: I knew it! I told that boy he shouldn't have tried that reciprocating force-out!

Bartlebead: He may also have a complicating case of Circus Jerkus, brought on by making fun of a younger sibling.

Knivespast: Certainly, he sounds like he might be suffering from Circus Smirkus, which is usually an opportunistic secondary infection in such cases.

Bobby (with face in hands): Oh, this is terrible! Can you do anything?

Katiki: We certainly can! And some of it might even be therapeutic for them.

*the DDD&SSS don white coats and serious expressions*

Nyx Ro: You can leave them with us, Mr Singer, we are all highly qualified to deal with This Sort Of Thing.

ccase13: All of our Sam Sanitising and Soothing and Dean Degreasing and Destressing Consultants have had extensive training in multiple therapy modalities.

AnjEmm: Including Osculation of Nociceptorial Sensation, and Dairy-based Albumin-Boosted Poulticing.

Bobby: You mean... kissing their booboos better and dunking them in custard?

*The DDD&SSS nod enthusiastically*

PaulatheCat: Meow, plus, for no additional charge, we will perform one of our world-famous chocolate therapy sessions. Plus leg massaging. Claws out by special request. Putting on the leather bustier costs extra.

Bobby: And will that make them feel better?

SARA1988: It will certainly make us feel better.

Georgia: And they will feel really good when we stop. *Consults clipboard* We can have them done in, oh, two hours or so.

Bobby: Wonderful! Have at 'em, ladies.

Upstairs

DarlaM: Now now, come along, you're a bit boy, let go of the lettuce.

Sam (tearfully): Don't hurt my lettuce!

Leahelisabeth: We're not here to hurt your lettuce. We're here to help you.

Sam (pouting adorably): What's that bucket of custard for?

Katiki: The custard is part of your anti-clown therapy. Clowns throw custard pies at each other. Therefore, custard will repel them.

Sam: Really?

vsama: Really. So, the more custard we can get onto you, the better you will feel.

*slosh slosh slosh rub rub rub*

Sam: Ooooh OOOOOH ooooooh do you all have to do that at once? Hey, that's a favourite shirt!

Nyx Ro: It's vitally important that we don't miss any spots, any hard-to-reach nooks and crannies...

Steelhorse67: I'll get the chocolate daubing brush, with special sideburns attachment.

Leahelisabeth: There's only one way to be certain; to the custard tub, ladies!

*They hustle Sam down the stairs and into the van, where they don face masks and snorkels and continue*

Downstairs

aeicha: You've been a very silly boy, haven't you?

Dean: AIEEEEEE! What are you doing. OooooOOOOOOer!

KnightJelly: Checking for rope marks.

Dean: I don't have any rope marks!

Bartlebead: Would you like some? Rope marks can be arranged.

PaulatheCat: I did mention that the leather bustiers cost extra.

knivespast: I think we have a pair of fluffy handcuffs that would be just your size.

Dean: AAAAAAAAARGH!

keacdragon: Hmmmm, definitely showing signs of stress.

Bartlebead (prods Dean expertly): Yes, see how tense he is.

ccase13: What's needed here is some theobromine-infused cacao therapy. Fetch the chocolate!

*slosh*

*strange slurping and muffled screams are heard*

In the kitchen

Bobby: So, what do you do?

TheBlueOrleans: Oh, I maintain the van, hose down the walls, paint over the scratch marks left by the desperate scrabbling of anyone trying to claw their way out of the custard tub before their therapy is done, and I also see to the upkeep of the pool table at DDD&SSS HQ. Occasionally, I hide under a table and advise others to do the same. *he glances at his watch* Speaking of which, get your coffee and follow me.

*he crawls under the table and arranges the tablecloth*

Bobby: Why are we under the table?

*they hear the kitchen door open*

Lampito: I know you're in here, Mr Singer, I'd recognise that scent, that irresistable mix of gun solvent, silicon sealant, dog anti-flea shampoo and burned spaghetti anywhere...

Bobby: Balls.

TheBlueOrleans: It's okay, I always bring a pack of cards.

FIN

I'm so excited that this one cracked 400 reviews. OMGWTFBBQ! Now, this story is completely and utterly stomped, and we can all get on with encouraging Bunny #3 to keep on dicating 'The Man Who Spewed Too Much'. Reviews rev the rabbit!