Scared of the Dark
Weechester!Fic. When Sam Winchester told his father he was scared of the things in his closet, he gave him a .45. Sometimes, however, you don't need weapons to fight what's in the dark – just comfort from your big brother. Sam, 9 – Dean, 13. Just a sweet fic filled with brotherly love. No slash! One shot.
Quick note: I don't own Supernatural – if I did Sam and Dean wouldn't die every other freaking season, and there wouldn't be so much angst. First time doing weechester – and there will be no slash of any kind found here. Wincest is something I'm 100% against!
Enjoy ^_^
Dean Winchester was many things.
A hunter (in training). A fighter. An obedient son. Trustworthy. Cocky – nearly arrogant.
But, above all, he was loving and loyal.
He'd do anything for his little brother, Sam. From beating up kids who dared even look at him funny, to letting him have the rest of the Lucky Charms cereal – despite the fact Dean hadn't had any.
So, when he heard a frightened scream from his brother's bed, he instantly grabbed a knife from underneath his pillow and ran to Sam's side.
"Sammy?" He whispered – praying that a creature of some sort hadn't gotten in. If he'd let his guard down again, John would be more disappointed in him than the time he'd almost allowed Sam to become a Shtriga's next meal, all because Dean was sick of being the strong one.
He'd learnt since then – stay on guard. Don't panic. Don't even think for a second about leaving Sam alone; no matter how bored or desperate he was.
"Dean?" Sam whispered. The old lamp had flickered on by Dean's touch, igniting a small area around Sam's bed.
He was curled up in a ball, shaking – hair tousled about and sticking up at all ends.
"Was something here Sam?" Dean demanded, never dropping the knife. His hand begun to shake, but – like the obedient son he was – Dean followed John's training orders and kept his stance still and steady. Stab first; ask questions later.
"Sammy, did something attack you?" There was no way Dean could let his guard down till he was certain Sammy was OK – and whatever had gone near his baby brother had long since gone.
"N-no Dean." Sam mumbled – flattening his hair and sitting up just a little. Still though, he kept his knees tucked into his chest and face buried in his hands.
"No as in no, I wasn't attacked or no, whatever attacked me has gone?" Dean had to be sure. He had promised his father. Besides, there was no way anyone – human or otherwise – was going to touch his little brother. He'd sell his soul for Sammy's life if it came to it. There was nothing more important in Dean's life than Sam.
"Nothing was here Dean. I just had a nightmare. Y-you can go back to sleep, just don't tell Dad. I don't want another lesson on how to load a point four five."
Dean sighed in somewhat relief. Nothing had happened – he hadn't failed in protecting his brother.
That was when Dean realised he had failed in looking out for Sammy. Sometimes the most frightening things appear in our minds, and when you live the kind of lifestyle the Winchesters do, your imagination is bound to go into overdrive.
Just as a precaution, Dean swept the room with his eyes once more, before finally setting the silver blade to the side and sitting next to Sam.
"I'm not leaving you like this, Sammy. Nightmares are freaky things." He hugged his brother tight – Sam wrapping his arms around him. Perhaps he wasn't into chick-flick moments, but he'd re-enact a Nicholas Sparks novel to comfort Sammy if that was the needed.
"I don't like the closet. Since I told dad I was scared of it, he's put me in every room that has a closet in it in each motel we've stayed in. He makes me keep this under my bed."
Sam indicated to the small, black and fully loaded .45 pistol that was on his pillow; a clear sign he'd been holding it before Dean came in.
Dean sighed. His father had to teach him that, what if there really had been something in the darkness that loomed over the closet? Sam needed to be prepared.
But the screech Sam had yelled clearly showed that in such a situation he'd merely tense up and draw attention to himself.
He was nine years old. Nowhere near the age you should learn how to hunt – nor the age you should kill your first creature.
Then again, Dean supposed, not many people his age – if any at all – know how to load and unload a gun. Know that silver kills werewolves and dead man's blood poison's Vampires. Know how to exorcise a demon or that salting and burning the bones of a dead man is the only way to kill a spirit.
No wonder Sam was scared of the dark.
"Don't be scared of the dark, Sammy."
Sam's head jerked, looking up at his brother with curiously wide eyes. "But...There are things in the dark Dean."
Dean ran a hand through his brother's hair.
"I know, Sam. There always have been things in the dark lurking, waiting to claim you as their next victim."
His brother tensed up, pulling Dean closer and burying his head into Dean's chest.
"But I'll always be there, Sam. To fight them off. No creature in the dark will harm you as long as I'm around."
Sam smiled, looking up at his brother. "Will you always be with me?"
Without missing a beat, Dean nodded. "You can't get rid of me that easily kiddo," he affirmed – pushing Sam away.
Instantly, Sam lied down – resting his head against the old motel pillow. Dean pulled the sheets over Sam's shoulders, smiling warmly.
"Dad is right to teach you these things Sam, you need to know how to defend yourself. But I swear to God no son of a bitch monster is going to harm a hair on your head when you've got me by your side Sammy."
Sam smiled, falling almost instantly back to sleep. "Love you Dean, thank you for protecting me."
Dean laughed, sounding breathless and worn out, and headed back to his bedside.
"I love you too Sammy, no creature will ever get you on my watch again. Ever."
That was crap and cheesy ...But hey... Review...Please? :3
No hate :3
-Catnipisnotonfire12