When Sam Winchester fell asleep in his hotel bed he thought everything would be perfect now. He wanted forget the secrets his father and Dean, Sam's older brother, shared. The creepy eye contact they had when they heard of another kill. He just wanted everything to be perfect on his 12th birthday. But the only thing his father said the whole day was: "You're ready to know the secret about this world."

Dean and his father had a huge argument about that. Dean always said that Sammy wasn't ready to be a hunter and that he was just a little scared kid who don't understand. "Help me to understand!" he wanted to scream, but his body was numb.

In his books, there was a cake on birthday. And a big party with all of his friends – but he had no friends, he just had his creepy family. They didn't even have a house like the boys in his books! Why did they always had to sleep in strange hotel rooms? Why did he have no friends like other normal twelve year old boys?

Sam was sitting on his bed and looked out of the window. It was almost midnight but he still heard Dean's and dad's voices, fighting about Sam. Dad always said: "Sam is twelve now. He needs to know about it. About the darkness! I'm his father, I know what's good for him!"

Dean replied: "You mean letting him now that the monsters under his bed are real? Make him a hunter? He's a child! We don't need him at hunts. Why do you want it so bad?"

Then there was silence, scary silence. Were they gone – like always? They would really leave him at his birthday?

"Dean, get your knife!" then suddenly someone said and Sam jumped off his bed. 'No, they won't leave me this time!' he thought. 'I'm not a child anymore, I can take care of myself.'

So he took the knife under Dean's bed and went out of the room. But there was nobody, no Dean, no Dad, no birthday cake. Nothing but the quiet TV. Sam sighed. They really left him at his birthday – like always. He felt pain, but just for a second. When a little voice whispered his name Sam's heart began to beat heavily. He turned around and looked into yellow eyes, smirking at him.

"Hey, Sammy," the man said. He looked old, but the smile he had on his old lips was the scariest thing Sam had ever seen. Dean's knife landed on the floor and Sam wanted to scream, but somehow something was in his body and let him go to the old man. "The last time I've seen you, you were about one month. Or was it two?"

Sam was now standing towards the old man and let him rapped his strong arms around his waist. "Who are you?" Sam whispered when the old man held him and looked deep into Sam's teary eyes. He wasn't mistaking: the man really had yellow eyes. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

"Oh, well," the old man said and smirked like the devil again. "You know, Sammy, I'm not human. You aren't, too. You're my little soldier, my favorite!" Sam swallowed hard and tried to scream again, but his body was numb.

"Are you a … monster …?" he whispered and blinked confused at the man.

The man laughed and grinned. "We say demon," he replied and stroked Sammy's curly hair. "Let me tell you something: When you're older, you will have dreams. Scary dreams. And then I'll be right here, waiting for you to come to our side. And I'm sure you will come …"

"Keep your hands off my son, you son of a bitch!"

"Dad!" Sam screamed and started to shook his body so the old man would let him go. "Help me, this man isn't normal! He isn't normal, Dad!" Tears ran down Sam's cheek when he felt the pain as the old man held him tighter.

"I know, Sammy," John whispered and raised his gun, right at the old man's yellow eyes. "Do you know what this is, demon? It's called Colt. You can kill bitches like you with it!"

"Did he already started to dream it, John?" the man replied and smirked again. "Are you scared you could loose him? Well, you will!"

"You will never get Sam!" John screamed and aimed at the old man. "Not until I'm alive!"

"Thank you for that advice," the old man said and looked at the top. His eyes then became brown again and black sulfur came out of his mouth. Sam screamed and closed his eyes.

"Please, Daddy, help me!" he screamed and shook his little body. Tears ran down his cheek when he fell on the ground and ran to his father. The old man's body was still on the ground and didn't move.

"Nothing happened, Sammy, okay?" John whispered into his son's ear. "Everything's fine now … Happy birthday." Sam still cried when Dean came into the room and looked at the dead body. "Dean, you and your brother will sleep now," John said and Dean nodded at him. "I will take of … this mess."

Sam felt Dean's arms around him when they went to their bedroom. As Dean covered Sam up with his blanket Sam whispered: "He said I was his favorite, Dean …"

"He won't get you, okay?" Dean quickly said and sighed when he looked at his brother. "Why can't you just sleep and stop trying to be an adult? And if you ever hear something, don't ever go out of bed, do you understand me?"

Sam nodded at his older brother and could hardly close his eyes. When he fell asleep, he dreamed about the old man and his yellow eyes.