A/N: This came to me in an inspired moment. Or a stupid one. Anyway, basically, Walt asks Sawyer for a story. Unfortunately for him, Sawyer's in a bad mood. (Isn't he always?) However, Sawyer passes his comfort zone when the story gets a little too real...

Disclaimer: I don't own LOST, or Cycles of the Werewolf by Stephen King.

Sawyer looked up from the book he was reading, Cycles of the Werewolf, when he heard a voice tentatively call his name. "Mr. Sawyer?" He looked up and with growing annoyance recognized that kid, whatshisface, Walt. Sawyer was in no mood to listen to a six-year-old whine about his various problems, so he began to tell him to get the hell out of his face. But before he could get a word in, Walt surprised him. "Can you tell me a story?"

This derailed Sawyer completely. "What?"

Walt looked slightly abashed. "Well, I'm bored, so Kate told me to come over here so you could tell me a story." The boy looked at him with pleading eyes. Sawyer conspicuously looked around for Freckles, and spotted her near the ocean with Dr. Giggles. He caught her eye and mouthed, "The hell?" She waved cheekily back in response. Probably thought this would cheer me up, Sawyer grumbled internally, but he was secretly pleased she had been thinking of him.

Sawyer turned back to the young boy. "Well, Gazoo, I am not a walking, talking Borders bookstore, so I cannot help you," Sawyer waved him away. "Get."

Walt looked at him with a compassion only six-year-olds could manage. Wait. He was ten, wasn't he? Eh, whatever. "Mr. Sawyer," Walt began, but Sawyer cut him off.

"Do not call me that," Sawyer glared at the young boy. "Just Sawyer."

"Okay, Just Sawyer. Why are you in such a bad mood?"

Now Walt was really starting to piss him off. Sawyer sat up straight so he could look him in the eye. "I am in a bad mood," he growled, "because I was just tied to a tree and tortured for medicine I didn't have." Sawyer decided to leave out the part where he had made it seem like he did have Shannon's inhaler. "And then, after I tell them I didn't have it, I was stabbed in the arm! And," Sawyer continued, getting more angry as he went along, "Captain Falafel doesn't even get punished for it. No, he might as well have gotten a medal of honor! But all I have to do is..." Sawyer searched for the perfect word. "...salvage what meager supplies we have and all of a sudden I've got a giant, red target on my ass.

"So," Sawyer continued, now almost yelling, "when you ask me why I'm in such a bad mood, I am gonna say get the hell out of my face."

"Oh." Walt said. An awkward silence fell over the two, then was interrupted. "...So can you?"

Sawyer turned to face the boy, now severely irritated. "Can I WHAT?"

"Tell me a story."

Sawyer threw his hands up in the air, and was about to start cussing the young boy out, when something caught his eye. It was the book he'd been reading, a real spooky-ass story. An evil grin curled over his face as a rather diabolical plan came to him. So what if, technically, the kid had done nothing but piss him off? So what if it was really the Doc and Red Beret that he was angry at? He deserved a pick-me-up, and hey, Freckles thought so too. Eh, Freckles will kill me when she finds out. But it was too fun a plan to pass up.

Walt, unaware of Sawyer's thoughts, pleaded, "Please? Just one?" Sawyer grinned and cracked his knuckles.

"Why, sure," Sawyer said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Sure, I'll tell you a story." He looked up at the sky, which was fading into dusk. Perfect. He leaned in, suggesting confidentiality, and Walt followed suit, eyes round with yet-to-be-squandered innocence. "But, this is a very special story. And it's all true. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Yes! Please!" Walt cried out in joy.

"Okay," Sawyer picked up a flashlight that he had 'salvaged'. "For this special story, we're gonna have to go into my tent."

Now Walt looked uncertain. "My Daddy told me never to go into strangers houses..."

"Oh for the love of- Get in here!" Sawyer hissed, forgetting to be nice. Walt went into the tent with Sawyer, still looking apprehensive.

"Okay then," Sawyer closed the door so it was dark, and turned on the flashlight so it shone on his face in a creepy way. "This story is about a little boy named... Willie."

"Why is he named Willie?"

"Cause his mamma's an idiot. Anyway, Willie was sailing in a boat around the world, when he crashed on a magical island."

Walt interrupted, scoffing. "Like that would ever happen."

"Look, do you wanna hear the damn story or not? Continuing, Willie landed on this magical island, and soon began to discover magical things."

"Can he be named Vincent? Like my dog?" Walt was now bouncing up and down.

"Okay, fine! Now, Willie-"

"I thought his name was Vincent!"

"I'm getting to that part!" Sawyer was beginning to regret ever agreeing to this. "Anyway, on the island, Willie found a magical social security center where he could change his name to Vincent-And he didn't even need a parental signature!"

"Whoa!" Walt's eyes grew huge with amazement.

Kid's a lot dumber then he looks, Sawyer thought. "So Vincent began to make a lot of friends on the island. Everyone said he was special, and he was happy. Until," Sawyer broke off.

"Until what?" Walt asked.

"Until," Sawyer continued ominously. "he heard about the werewolf."

"THERE'S A WEREWOLF?!"

"Yes, dammit, now shut the hell up! Okay, so Vincent heard about the werewolf from people who lived on the island a lot longer then he had. They warned him, told him he had to leave, but Vincent," Sawyer pointed exaggeratedly to his head, "was a little slow. So he laughed, and didn't worry about it, until one day on the full moon, he heard howling."

"Uh-oh." Walt gasped.

"Uh-oh is right," Sawyer nodded melodramatically. "So, he heard the howling, and stupid Vincent thinks it must be his dog... Bobby. So Vincent goes to look for Bobby, and the howling gets closer and closer, and Vincent is calling for his dog, until he heard rustling in the trees. Now, Vincent is getting a little scared so he doesn't go into the forest, but he still calls out, 'Bobby?'

"And that was all the werewolf needed," Sawyer finished gravely. "It pounced on Vincent and tried to kill him, but before it could succeed, Bobby the loyal dog jumped out of nowhere and started to fight with it! Vincent began to help, and soon they had staked it through the heart."

Walt looked queasy.

"But, the werewolf had bitten Vincent. So the next full moon, Vincent changed into a werewolf and killed all his friends. And that's my story for you."

Walt shot Sawyer a frightened look. "That was all true?"

"All of it," Sawyer nodded, "Every word. Oh! And I forgot to tell you! The island Vincent was on was never found! And, it was on the flightpath of Oceanic 815! What a funny coincidence." Sawyer faked a laugh, and thought, I hope Short Round don't know about the little detour we took in the air.

"It's this island, isn't it?" Walt looked panicked. "This island is magical! And it's in the same area! We're going to die!"

"Calm down, kiddo." Sawyer turned off the flashlight and looked outside. "By golly! It's a full moon tonight!" Sawyer laughed again. "Ain't that a coincidence?"

"We're on werewolf island! WE'RE ON WEREWOLF ISLAND AND WE'RE GOING TO DIE!" Walt started to scream and scrambled out of the tent. Sawyer followed him, hissing, "Shut up! Your daddy's gonna kill me!"

Suddenly, a howl broke through the calm of the night. It echoed and rebounded throughout the beach, and seemed to take forever for the sound to fade away. Both Sawyer and Walt froze, and the latter started to whimper. "Vincent's here, Vincent's here, Vin-"

"Shut up! That story wasn't true," Sawyer tried to calm the boy, but he was having a hard time believing it himself. That sound was in no way human. Still, werewolves? Little kid stuff, and Sawyer was in no way falling for any dumb practical joke. Another howl, this one sounding more painful and a hell of a lot closer. Normally, Sawyer would have laughed it off, but he couldn't stop thinking of that stupid story he'd told Walt. It was all coming true. Exactly as I told it, Sawyer thought fearfully. Walt was now sobbing into his hand, muttering, "He's coming, he's coming." over and over again.

A rustling sound was coming from the direction of the trees now. It seemed to be coming from all directions, and Sawyer couldn't figure out what was causing it. The rustling continued, and now with the sound of heavy feet. There ain't a thing alive that was that big, Sawyer thought to himself in horror. He pushed Walt behind him and groped around for any sort of weapon. His hand rested on some kind of stick, and he picked it up and took a batters position. "Stay behind me," Sawyer ordered Walt. "And if you make it and I don't, tell Freckles that... she's hot." Walt didn't seem to have heard him.

Rustle, rustle, rustle. The thing in the forest was closing in, and now they could hear its huge footsteps getting closer and closer. Sawyer tensed up, and got ready to swing his stick-thing. From the light of the full moon, he could see it's looming shape. It was pretty indistinct, but it was enormous. The sound of its feet stopped, and it let out a grunt and began to walk out onto the beach. Before they could fully see it, it stopped and seemed to be thinking. Finally, it cleared its throat and spoke.

"Hey, dudes."

"JESUS, STAY PUFT!" Sawyer lowered his stick, his heart still pounding. "I thought you were a goddamn-" He broke off, and glanced at Walt. The kid looked just as embarrassed as he felt, so he decided to alter the truth a little. "-Polar Bear."

"Sorry, dudes." Hurley looked vaguely chagrined. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"But... what was that howling noise?" Walt didn't look completely convinced.

Hurley looked even more uncomfortable. "Aw, man, I'm sorry I stepped on Vincent's tail. He seemed pretty hurt, so I took him to Jack."

"Wait...you took Vincent to Jack? Do you want him to die?" Walt eyes bulged in horror. Sawyer elbowed him and whispered, "He means your dog, idiot."

"Oh," Walt looked even more embarrassed.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you were your dog was, little dude. I'll see you guys later." Hurley started to walk back to the camp down the beach.

Sawyer waited until Hurley was out of earshot, then turned to Walt. "How's say we never speak of this evening again in our lives?" The Southerner looked around nervously, then returned his gaze to the young boy.

Walt looked relieved. "That sounds good to me." He waved and started to jog back in Hurley's direction. "Bye, Mr. Sawyer!"

Goddamn kid, Sawyer thought with a smirk. His smile quickly faded to a frown, and he turned on his flashlight. After a few minutes of looking, he found his book, Cycles of the Werewolf. He picked it up, headed down to the edge of the water, and chucked it in the ocean.

I'll be damned if I ever read Stephen King again.

A/N: Okay, this was like the first time I've ever written humor, so don't kill me if it sucks. Reviews are awesome, PLZKTHXBAI.