a/n: remember that Nathan and the Winchester brothers are younger in this fic; Nathan and Dean are both 10.

After the Winchesters pass through town, Nathan wonders if his father could be a Demon.

Monsters in the Closet

Nathan knew that Monsters weren't real; that they were just things from the imagination that people created because they were bored. That these creatures were things that parents just made up to scare children into doing what their parents wanted. The Sandman, the Boogieman, Loch Ness Monster, the Wolfman—all of them, they weren't real. They couldn't touch you, but there was always that hint of hesitance that it may be true, that your parents couldn't possibly lie to you about such a thing.

Nathan was ten and his was a big boy, brave and not stupid enough to be fooled by his parents. He read about these Monsters; all that he could find: Vampires, Shape Shifters (who Nathan thought would be cool if real; to take the image of someone else, to be someone other than yourself), Ghouls and Ghosts. He read the facts and could deduce whether or not they were real; they weren't—there was no proof in the 21st Century that stated so.

He was confident in this knowledge, and so he had let it go. His parents didn't even know of this phase that had passed them by; mom was never home to care and even when dad was home, he wasn't there to care. Nathan was a big boy, his father had told him, and big boy's don't need their mommy's and daddy's.

And Nathan was a big boy, as big as they get.

At the age of eleven, the phase of the Monsters in Nathan's life made a comeback when a Family passed through Tree Hill. There was a father and two sons, who stayed in Town for about two months or so—and Nathan, being the big boy that he was, had introduced himself to the eldest son who was the same age and in the same class as he was.

"Hi, I'm Nathan. What's your name?"

The other boy, with his emerald green eyes and blond hair had glared at him for a moment before he turned and stocked away.

Nathan wasn't hurt; he knew that it must be hard for this boy to move to a strange place and be happy about it—but Nathan was never one to give up, so he'd try again and again he did.

By now Nathan knew that the boy's name was Dean, but he still wanted the other boy to introduce himself so that they could finally be friends. He stubborn, but so was Nathan.

It was recess and Dean was in his usual spot on the grass where he always sat alone during breaks between class and lunch time, and that was where Nathan had always asked his name; Dean would just answer with a glare. Nathan knew that Dean wanted this, wanted to play and that there must be a reason why he wasn't allowing himself to. Nathan had seen Dean's father, who was just as big and scary as his own—but they were big boys, and big boys weren't supposed to be scared of anything—not even their fathers.

So this time, when Nathan skipped over to Dean, he came prepared.

He jumped down in front of Dean, a huge grin across his lips as he looked at the other boy. "Hi! Wanna play?" he asked.

Again Dean didn't say a word, and instead just stared like he always seemed to do—but that wouldn't detour Nathan because he did come prepared this time. He crossed his legs and unfolded the front of his shirt, dumping the contents into his lap and around him—having used his shirt as a carrier. All around them were little army men, and dinky cars and monster trucks with the big wheels; so many toys!

Nathan watched as Dean stared at them, clenching his hands in his lap, but not making a move to take one. But Nathan could play by himself too; he had always played by himself. He took the many dinky cars and lined them up, side by side and then took one of the monster trucks, lining it up. As he backed the toys up he kept an eye on Dean, making sure that the boy was paying attention—and forced himself to make the girly-est motor sound that he could muster.

Dean's eye twitched at that, and Nathan grinned inwardly—any moment now. He made the sound again and started to push the truck towards the other cars, and then bam! Dean's hand snapped out and slapped in on top of his, stopping the movement.

"That's not how you do it," Dean told him, taking the truck from Nathan and backing it up again. "This is." he said firmly and made one of the best truck noises that Nathan had ever heard as he drove the truck over the lined up car, making the crushing sounds that went along with it.

Nathan grabbed the other truck and made the proper truck sound this time as he played along with Dean—and triumphant grin on his lips.

For days Nathan had to coax Dean into playing with him; until eventually, Nathan just had to sit in front of Dean, dump out the toys and they would start to play. Each day Nathan would bring out different toys from the class with him, trying to guess which ones that Dean would like more—he compared each smile that Dean gave, the ones that he made in secret and thought that Nathan hadn't seen.

And then one day—Nathan's favourite one—was when Dean paused, looked Nathan in the face as simply said: "Dean,", before he went back to playing.

ooooooooooooooooo

One day, when they were on the swings, Nathan turned to Dean. "Do believe in Monsters?"

Dean's eyes widened slightly and his back straightened, shoulders turning stiff as he stopped pumping his legs. "No." he said just as stiffly, looking at Nathan for a second before he looked straight ahead and started pumping again.

Nathan looked at him awhile, knowing in his stomach that not only did Dean believe in Monsters, but he seemed to know that it was a fact. And that got Nathan thinking; he watched Dean more intently as well as his father whenever Nathan saw him on the street. Nathan didn't know what Dean's father did for a living or where he lived—but he thought that Dean's dad was with the police.

Being eleven years old, Nathan didn't watch the news, so when something bad happened, he heard it from other kids at school. That was where he heard that people had been hurt in similar incidents—which started before Dean got here and his father seemed to be investigating it. Nathan's dad was helping too; he was the town's Mayor after all.

But ever since Dean's family had come to town, his father seemed even more angry than usual. Yelled whenever Nathan was there, talked to himself, him and mom arguing more than usual—his brown eyes were darker too. He didn't eat and he only seemed to drink his amber water.

Not long after that, Dean didn't come to school anymore. At first Nathan had thought that he was just sick, but then he didn't see Dean's dad and his own dad's moods died down to their usual spot. Nathan was sad, but the way Dean acted when he mentioned Monsters, got the eleven year old thinking.

Nathan hit the books; the library. But he hit a different direction this time, looking into the religious aspect of things. There was no real reason or rhyme to this decision other than the fact that Nathan never looked into Monsters in this area before.

What he found and from what he could really understand caused his eyes to widen.

It was something called a Demon, a Monster that comes from Hell and takes over a human's body. Becoming that person (almost like a Shape Shifter) but has super strength, can't die unless someone chants a spell in Latin. To expose a Demon there many things like Holy water and salt—its eyes also turn completely black.

Nathan found it hard to breath; the book also said that they were cruel and even found it fun in harming others and become even more so when they know that someone is onto them. His father had always been like that; cruel and it had been even more so when Dean's father was here. Did that mean that dad was a Demon and Dean's father knew, and that he took care of them and that was why Dean was gone?

Now it was really hard to breath, but maybe it wasn't true?

No, all he had to do know was test the theory; it was going to be difficult since he could only do one or two things, but it was better than nothing. He tried salt, but wasn't really sure if it had to be pure, or if he could mix it in something without his dad notice—it wasn't reliable so he ruled it out. He didn't know Latin (he was only eleven), but he found this design in one of the books that if a Demon walks in one, they can't come back out unless the lines are broken. He drew in on a big piece of paper, trying to make it as accurate as possible before he put that one the floor and covered it with the mat at the front door.

Nathan had watched from the stairs as his father had come home, pausing on the mat as he threw his keys in the dish on the table by the door. Nathan chewed the inside of his cheek, butterflies in his stomach as he waited. His father stepped from the mat before he noticed Nathan. Anger flared through his face and he yelled at Nathan to go to his room and do something with himself.

Nathan scampered away quickly, going up to his room and slamming the door. He was breathing heavily as he slumped down on his bed; so his father wasn't a Demon. Nathan had actually wished that he was; it would give reason why the man was so horrible and manipulative. But he wasn't and Nathan knew that he hadn't done the design wrong, so this was what his father was really like. He lay on his side and pulled his knees to his chest; this was what his father was really and truly like.

f