Author's Notes: This was originally published on my LJ, until I finally remembered that I actually have an account on here. This is pre-series. Sam is 7 and Dean is 11. I apologize for any mistakes since I don't have a beta lol.
Disclaimer: Don't. Own. Anything. A damn shame too!


He can't seem to shut his eyes, fear washing over him in giant tides and making him quiver. The darkness closes in from all around him, reaching out with invisible hands and stroking against him without touch. Sam shudders, tries to hide the whimper that escapes him, not wanting Dean to wake even though he's restraining himself from shaking his brother violently.

No, Sam's determined to face this alone.

But, even in his sleep, Dean seems to know something's wrong; he rolls over so that he's facing Sam and mumbles, "Go to sleep, Sammy," before going still again. Sam turns his head away and bites into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut tight, trying desperately not to cry. "I can't," he wants to say, "Dean, I'm scared. Help me." But the words don't come, he won't let them come. After all, he's a big boy now, his dad had said so earlier that day. If his dad said he was a big boy, then he must be, and big boys aren't scared.

Slowly, quietly, trying not to disturb his brother, Sam sits up in the small bed they share and lets the sheets fall away from him. He climbs out, bare feet touching the floor, shivering at the sudden loss of warmth, wanting nothing more than to climb back into bed and curl up with Dean. It's horribly quiet, every movement he makes sounds deafening. He hopes his dad can't hear the noises he makes.

Sam opens the door to his and Dean's bedroom and steps out into the hallway. It's pitch black there too, suffocating, menacing. Their small apartment just seems too silent. He places a small hand against his chest, above his heart, to remind himself that he's still there. He can't see anything ahead of him, not even his hand; the black darkness is just too thick.

"Dad," the whisper just slips out of him, like a breath, but he fights the sudden impulse to burst into his dad's room and jump into those big arms. Dean and dad are strong, so he has to be like them. He has to be strong.

There's a sudden bang, and Sam jumps back, terrified, heart beating wildly in his chest, palms sweaty. He pauses and listens, realizing that it was just the old refrigerator powering up, the loud hum the only other sound apart from his own breathing. He heads towards the kitchen, trying to find it, because if there's sound then maybe whatever is hiding there in the darkness for him won't attack. Right?

Right. He sits down in front of it and presses his back flush up against the door, wrapping his arms around his legs. It seems to be dark everywhere. Too dark. Too black. It suffocates him, leaves him breathless, so much that tears start to well up in his eyes. There's something there...he knows there is, he can feel its eyes staring right at him, standing right in front of him.

Dean. He wants Dean. His big brother will know how to make it all better. He'll chase the scary monsters away. He always does. But he doesn't call for Dean, can't make his voice work past the lump in his throat. It doesn't want him to speak, that's why. It wants him to be silent, so that it can have a stealthy kill, so that it can attack him any moment now. Sam closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath. Then he gasps.

The light! If he could turn the light on, then the demon would go away, it would leave him alone. But it'll get me before I get to the light switch. Dean, please wake up! Please come and find me!

No. He has to do this on his own. He has to be strong, like a big boy.

Oh but it's right there, right in front of him, its hands just out of reach, and he can imagine it now, imagine how its hands would feel if it touched him. He wants the light on now, every instinct in him screaming to run, run!

He gets up as quick as he can, rushing towards where the light is, stubbing his foot into a kitchen table on the way. It makes a loud bang, but that doesn't matter because he can feel the monster chasing him, gaining speed, distance, he can feel it coming right up behind him--

The light switches on, the kitchen brightens up immediately. Sam is blinded for a moment, a small hand going up to shield his eyes from the glare, before he sees it...

Nothing. Nothing is there. He had gotten rid of it!

Sam grins, relief flooding through him and making his knees week. His foot hurts, but that's okay, it's just a small thing, a battle wound that shows how brave he was, shows that he won. He won!

"Sammy?" a voice calls out.

He turns to see Dean coming into kitchen, fully alert and worried. "Dean!" he squeaks, then blushes furiously.

"Hey. You okay kiddo? You been crying?"

"No!" Even so, he reaches his hands up to wipe at his cheeks, feeling the wetness there. "Doesn't matter."

Dean frowns at him, a hand automatically going out to curl itself into Sam's locks. "What's wrong, Sammy? What are you doing here?"

"There was a monster," Sam says and shakes his head when he sees Dean tense, looking ready to call for dad, "No, Dean. There was a monster. I got rid of it. It doesn't like light. I was smarter than it."

His older brother stares at him for a beat before returning his grin. "Yeah? Come back to bed and you can tell me about it."

He nods and follows his brother back to bed, feeling warm and safe when Dean curls a protective arm around his middle. He can sleep now, he can close his eyes and rest, even though it's still dark. Dean smiles against his hair and says, "No need to be afraid of the dark, kiddo. I'm right here. I ain't gonna let anything happen to you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Nyctophobia- Fear of the dark or of night.