Wow! I can't believe the amazing response I received from the first chapter. Thank you all so much for your unbelievable support. It really lifts my spirits- you don't even know. I savor each and every review. Thank you.

Blu-bell: Hi! Actually, the bugaboo is a well-known "under the bed" creature, so I didn't name it myself. I think the name/creature was originally the same as the boogyman, but then over time they developed into slightly different monsters. But I'm glad you're likin' it!
Lol: No, no "full-stop" there's still chapters 2 and 3 to be added. :)
Lynns: Thanks! Glad you're enjoying! Here's some more!
Fiona: I'm guessing it's you based on the message as there was no signature with it, so I apologize if it's someone else. Either way, thanks so much for all the compliments! I'm glad you like the various creatures.
Dfghk: Okay, okay! Here you go:)
Spuffyshipper: Lol...I'm glad Sam's terror pleases you!. I'd imagine Dean can be quite intimidating when he's mad!
Caitlin: Aw, thank you. I'm glad you like it and see? You don't have to wait anymore for chapter 2 to appear. Here it is!

Thump in the Night: Chapter 2

Dean was pissed…and it wasn't just about the car, although Sam had definitely crossed a line with that one. No, Dean had been pissed at his brother for pretty much the entire week now. The car was merely the last straw.

It had started with Sam's neverending bitching about Dean's music, moved on to the way Dean drove, then continued from there. As far as he could remember, Sam had been bitching about something non-stop for the whole week. What had really set them at each other's throats, though, was the broxa hunt. Sam had been for the hunt and Dean had been against it. Not that he didn't want to hunt, it was just that those creatures were only killing cattle and, frankly, Dean couldn't see why they should waste their time hunting a broxa when they had let Lenore and company go for the same offense. Sam, ironically, had been arguing for the hunt, stating that the difference between the vampires and the broxas was that the vampires fed off different farmers' cattle each time; the broxas stayed on the same farm until that farmer lost his entire herd. And Sam wanted to save the farmer's family…naturally.

So that was the first real fight, which Dean had lost, and which led to the second fight: how to kill the creatures. Broxas were easy kills; an herbal poison or any kind of violence would do it. Sam had wanted to treat all 200 head of cattle with the poison, saying it would be safer. Dean didn't want to waste the time coating 200 steers with tea tree oil, nor did he want to waste the money buying all that tea tree oil. He just wanted to wait and shoot the damn things. Dean had originally won that argument, until his unfortunate meeting with the ground, which led to the car, which led to his current state of fury. In the end, though, it came down to one thing: Sam was a major pain in the ass and was seriously getting on his nerves. And the car? Dean shook his head. It'd be a long time before he'd be speaking to Sam again. The bastard freakin' broke the Impala.

And now he was coughing…loudly. Dean whined and threw his pillow over his head. His shoulder was killing him, and all he wanted to do was sleep. He wasn't even in the same room as Sam, for Pete's sake. More coughing, and Dean banged on the wall two more times. Sam hadn't been coughing at all earlier. Dean was halfway sure this was just another way for Sam to piss him off. He just wanted to sleep…and then Sam called his name.

That was it. Dean threw the pillow off his head and across the room in anger. "You gotta be freakin' kidding me!"

Getting up quickly, Dean made his way to the door that connected his room to his brother's. He had no idea why Sam had yelled his name. It might have been in response to the banging, or maybe he just wanted to hash it out. Dean raised his brows. That was fine. It didn't matter that Dean's shoulder was injured; Sam wanted a fight? He was gonna get one.

Dean threw open the door to his brother's room, immediately squinting at the light. So Sam was wide awake then. Figured. Once he was able to fully open his eyes, Dean glared over at his brother's bed. It was empty. Then he looked over at the small table and chairs…also empty.

Hearing another cough, Dean turned toward the room's main door and looked down. There, sitting on the floor against the wall, was Sam.

Suddenly, everything stopped. Something was seriously wrong.

Sam's eyes were closed and he looked as though he was struggling to breathe. His right arm was folded across his stomach, and even from the other side of the room, Dean could see the blood staining Sam's shirt. There was a smear of blood down the wall behind him, and Dean knew from looking at it that some part of his brother's back was also injured.

Dean hurried to his brother, crouching in front of him. He didn't speak but gently took Sam's arm, trying to move it away from the injury. Sam held his arm in place, but from behind it Dean could see the gash across his brother's middle. Dean's breath caught in his throat. The demon had gotten Sammy. That's what had happened to Jessica and their mother: a slash across the abdomen. Somehow Sam had avoided being burned on the ceiling, but nevertheless…

Dean struggled against hyperventilating. How the hell could he have left Sam alone? There was a freakin' demon after him, and Dean had left him alone.Watch out for Sammy; some job he'd done. Sam was being attacked, and there Dean was in another room, banging on the wall, annoyed with the noise.

Shaking away the guilt in order to focus on Sam, Dean pulled again at his brother's arm. Once again, the arm didn't move. Now that he was touching Sam, Dean was able to feel his brother's rib cage cave as he struggled to pull in each breath. Dean looked up at Sam's face, noting the blue tinge around his lips. Sam's breathing was considerably labored, and Dean felt his alarm grow; this was so not good.

Quickly, Dean did a visual sweep of the room to be sure whatever had attacked his brother was gone. He sighed in relief when he found nothing there. Turning back to Sam, Dean touched his brother's arm, speaking in a whisper. "Sammy? Come on, bro, move your arm. I need to see it."

Sam opened his pain-filled eyes and allowed Dean to move his arm out of the way. Dean winced at the gash in the bloody t-shirt. Carefully, he began to roll his brother's shirt up to get a better look at the injury. Dean gently probed the area, listening to Sam's soft gasps intermixed with his labored breathing.

Dean grimaced. The wound was deep and badly bleeding; it would need stitches. Thankfully, though, the gash hadn't been deep enough to cut all the way through the muscle. Dean let out a long breath in relief. When he had finished examining the slice, he rolled Sam's shirt back down and looked up.

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Sam stared at his brother as he tried to calm himself in order to get his breathing under control. Dean's presence in itself was incredibly calming, which was odd considering only a few hours before, that same presence had caused Sam a great amount of stress and annoyance. He took in a deeper breath, triggering a cough, then winced at the pull on his abdomen. Dean was being incredibly gentle, again odd because Sam was fairly sure Dean had planned on killing him when he walked in the door. Sam took another deep breath, this time without the cough, as Dean met his eyes. Sam relaxed further; there was no anger in his brother's eyes…at least not at the moment. Dean looked guilty, and worried, and something else. Scared? The first two Sam had somewhat expected, as Dean often exhibited those expressions—too often—but the third? Why was Dean scared?

"Sammy…was it the demon?"

Oh. Sam widened his eyes and immediately shook his head. "No. No." Well, that explained Dean's fear…and looking down at himself, Sam could see how Dean had jumped to that conclusion. Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. This was embarrassing. Here Dean thought he had been attacked by the demon, which would have made sense considering his condition, but no. No, Sam had been attacked by a bugaboo. A creature that often attacked, and was sometimes killed by, children. Dean was never going to let him live this one down. Sam shook his head. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if when Dean heard what it was, he made some degrading comment and returned to his room and bed.

Sam's thoughts of humiliation were interrupted as he felt his brother lean him forward to take a look at his shoulder. Once again, Dean was gentle as he probed the area. By that time, thankfully, Sam was breathing semi-normally again. He still couldn't use his lungs to their capacity, wouldn't for a while, but at least he wasn't continuously coughing anymore. Finally, Dean pushed Sam back and once again crouched in front of him.

"Sam? What happened?"

Dean's voice was just as soothing as his touch, and Sam opened his eyes, dreading the embarrassment of the moment. He cringed before he spoke. "There's a bugaboo under my bed." God, he sounded like a five-year-old.

Dean immediately shook his head, confused. "A bugaboo did this? Dude, that doesn't make sense."

Sam shut his eyes in shame and nodded. "I know, man. But that's what it was. I saw it."

Dean looked around, shook his head again, then pushed on his brother's good shoulder, causing Sam to open his eyes. "Sam, bugaboos don't attack adults…and they definitely don't cut people up. Whatever did this, it was not a bugaboo."

Sam rolled his eyes. Did Dean have to argue with him about everything? He had seen the freakin' thing. Sam looked at his brother, somewhat annoyed. "Dean. I'm telling you—"

But Dean cut him off. "Sam, I'm not saying you didn't see something that looked like one, but I know my monsters, man…and bugaboos don't do that." Dean pointed at Sam's injuries before continuing, "The only way they attack is by sucking the air out of kids while they sleep."

Suddenly, Dean's face took on a shocked expression as he turned to his brother. "Dude…is that why you were coughing?"

Sam nodded.

Dean sat back, a guilt-ridden look on his face. "God, Sam. I'm sorry, man. I didn't—"

Sam shook his head and put up a hand, interrupting his brother. "Dean, don't. How would you know? I mean, there'd be no reason to assume a bugaboo was feeding off me. Like you said, they usually only go after kids."

Dean looked down, jaw shifting, not at all consoled by Sam's explanation.

Taking pity on his brother, Sam tried again. "Even with your being annoying and pissed, you still managed to save my life." Dean looked confused, and Sam smiled, "Your banging woke me up. I would've died in my sleep if you hadn't been such a dick."

Dean smirked and nodded. "Nice, man. Glad I could help." Dean moved to help his brother up, "Come on, let's get you stitched."

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Sam sighed and allowed Dean to pull him up. Once standing, Sam swayed and immediately leaned into his brother. Dean stood, holding on until Sam's dizziness passed. Then he led his brother to the bathroom. Once there, he took Sam's shirt off and began cleansing and stitching the wounds. Thankfully, the injuries weren't life-threatening. Both slash marks were incredibly painful, having cut through muscle, but Sam would survive. Dean grimaced as he pulled the last stitch through on his brother's abdomen; Sam had been very lucky. This could have been so much worse.

Sam spoke as Dean moved to his back. "Dean…thanks for coming over, man. You know, to help me."

Dean gave a short laugh and rolled his eyes. "Actually, I was coming over to kick your ass, but you're welcome."

Sam smiled, pausing before speaking again. "That bugaboo didn't play by the rules."

Dean rolled his eyes, focused on the stitching, "'Cause it wasn't a bugaboo."

Sam, looking annoyed, turned his head to look at his brother. "Then what was it?"

Dean, annoyed himself, pushed Sam's head back to looking straight ahead before answering, "I don't know, Sam. I wasn't here."

Sam turned his head back. "Right, exactly. So then—"

Dean interrupted, forcefully adjusting Sam's head forward again. "Unless you want a giant scar across your back, keep your freakin' head still."

Sam glowered before turning the conversation back to the monster at hand. "I stabbed it…it didn't die…didn't even seem hurt."

Dean nodded. "Immune to mortal wounds—what else?"

Sam sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly seeming exhausted. "Uh, it could go under the covers…"

Dean nodded again. "What color was it?"

Sam shook his head. "I thought it was blue, but I'm not really sure. It was definitely a dark color."

Dean pulled the last stitch through before tying it off. Then, he paused as he remembered something he'd said—and clearly shouldn't have—to himself when he'd been alone in his room. Dean's face lost its color. It couldn't be… He spoke slowly. "Sam…were the eyes red?"

Sam looked confused as he searched his memory and then shook his head slowly in surprise. "No…they were white."

That answer caused Dean to sigh and take a step back. He looked down at his brother with a troubled look on his face.

Sam saw the look and grew visibly nervous. "What?"

Dean bit his lip, unhappy to say what he was thinking. He had inadvertently brought this on his brother…

Sam prompted him again. "Dean, what? What is it?"

Dean took a deep breath before answering, "A xoxan."

Sam's eyes grew wide and he sat back, clearly shocked. Really though, it made perfect sense. Xoxans were relatives of bugaboos, another species of the "monster under the bed" family. Bugaboos and xoxans looked alike except for minor differences of skin and eye color, and both sucked the air from humans as they slept. Xoxans, however, preyed on adults as well as children, and could become physically violent. In addition, they could go through material, such as blankets, to get to their victims, whereas bugaboos could not.

There was one more fact about xoxans, though, that had Dean particularly disturbed: Xoxans only went after humans who had been "bad" toward a member of the family, such as a child who had been particularly disrespectful and disobedient to his parents.

Dean watched as his brother's face went from startled to angry. Obviously, Sam remembered that fact, too. Sam looked up, pissed. "You sicced a xoxan on me?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Give me a break, Sam. I didn't sic anything on you. Xoxans search for guilt. And you should feel freakin' guilty considering what you did to the Impala."

Sam shook his head and stood up angrily. "Guilt and blame; they both have to be present for the attack." Dean gave no response, and Sam spoke again, "Admit it, Dean. You did this to get me back for the car."

Dean threw up his hands. "Dude…you know I didn't."

Sam raised his eyebrows in challenge. "Then how did it get here?"

Dean gestured defensively. "I don't know, man. Maybe it was already hanging around here…but I didn't sic anything on you." It was true. Dean had said some things he probably shouldn't have—things that, if a xoxan was around and Sam was truly guilty, would send the thing into kill mode—but he hadn't actually summoned one. There were specific words for that, and Dean knew he hadn't saidthose. He would never have said those. Still, clearly, he had said more than he should have in his anger. But then, maybe Sam shouldn't have gone out of his way to piss him off so much this week.

For a moment, the brothers stood, glaring at each other, then Dean spoke again.

"Although, I gotta say, you have been a real pain in the ass lately."

Sam stuck out his lower jaw in anger and nodded slowly. "Nice. Thanks. 'Cause you've been such a joy to be around."

Dean nodded back. "Fine. I come in here to help you and this is what I get? You broke the freakin' car, Sam, and don't give me that shit that it was an accident. You did it because you were pissed at me and you were trying to piss me off."

Sam's face grew red, "You didn't come in here to help me. And I wasn't trying to break the car. You needed to lie down in a bed. I drove through the flood because I was worried about you, not to get back at you."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Then how come the xoxan's here? They don't go after people who've made mistakes. They go after people who deliberately hurt a family member."

Sam seethed, "Dean, for the last time, I did not deliberately try to hurt you."

"Bullshit. You wanted to piss me off? Well, you got what you wanted."

Dean walked out of the bathroom and Sam called out after him, "What the hell do you want from me then, Dean? I said I was sorry, I screwed up—it went further than I meant for it to go. You gonna stay pissed at me forever?"

Dean called back, "It wasn't just the car, Sam. You've been acting like a dick all week."

Sam shook his head. "Fine, you know what? Why don't you just go back to your room? I'll handle this myself."

Dean turned toward his brother to hand Sam a nasty comment. But before he could, Sam gave a startled yell. Within a blink, his head and one shoulder had disappeared into the bathroom mirror.

Dean stood in shock, not comprehending what he was seeing. But after a second, Dean's brain caught up, and he ran forward to grab his brother.

Wrapping one hand around Sam's waist, mindful of the injury, and the other around Sam's free shoulder, Dean pulled. His shoulder screamed in agony as the ruptured ligaments and lax tendons stretched beyond their injured limits. Dean had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out.

Pushing his own pain aside, Dean concentrated his energy on holding onto his brother. Apparently, whatever was attacking wanted Sam in the mirror as much as Dean wanted him out. Sam's left hand was flat against the wall, and Dean could see his brother's muscles flexing in an attempt to push himself out of the mirror, as well. Unfortunately, neither Dean nor Sam seemed to be able to fight the suction. Bracing his foot against the sink, Dean used his leg to add force to his pull, but still the mirror would not release its hold.

Adjusting his grip, Dean looked up at the mirror. It looked just as solid as before, and had part of Sam's body not been sticking out from it, Dean would've sworn it was solid glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother's hand begin to slip from the wall. Then, within Dean's hold, Sam's body started losing tone, sagging forward toward the sink. Sam was losing consciousness.

Dean gripped his brother's body tighter. "All right. Enough fooling around."

Without letting go, Dean desperately looked around for something he could use to smash the mirror. Filled with determination—Sam would not be dying at the hands of a xoxan—Dean grabbed the plastic tissue box holder and slammed it into the mirror.

So there was chapter 2. Only one more chapter to go! Please leave me some feedback- I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Thanks!