Welcome to my first Supernatural fic! I love the show and especially love the brother relationship portrayed in it. It always made me curious as to what their childhood was like. Hence why I am writing a young Winchester fic. Please tell me what you think.
Night Terror: Night terrors are a sleep disorder characterized by anxiety episodes with extreme panic, often accompanied by screaming, flailing, fast breathing, and sweating and that usually occur within a few hours after going to sleep. (heath a to z . com)
An earth shattering scream startled the nine-year-old brother awake. That night, like most nights, Dean was unfazed by the screams coming from his younger brother's bed, it was practically a nightly occurrence. Lazily getting out of his bed, he moved across the room towards Sammy, who was still screaming against some unknown foe.
Dean still remembered when the so-called 'night terrors' started a month ago completely out of the blue.
Dean was sound asleep within his own dreams when a terrifying scream from his little brother jolted him awake. Completely forgetting all of the stealth training his father engrained in his mind, Dean rushed towards his younger brother's bed, pocket knife in his hand. The moment he laid eyes on his brother, he was sure some sort of spirit was harming him. Sammy was screaming, wide-eyed, at the top of his lungs, thrashing around his bed in a head to head battle against the invisible spirit. "Sammy! Where is it?" Dean called, ready to pounce on the spirit and beat its lights out, even if it was physically impossible.
Not receiving an answer, Dean darted out of the room and grabbed the rifle filled with rock salt from his father's room. Realizing the motel was empty, Dean cursed at the fact their father had not returned yet from the hunt. The loaded gun in his hand, he sprinted back to their room, aimed and fired at the invisible spirit attacking his brother. Yet, much to his surprise, there was no loud shriek or puff of smoke like there usually was. The rock salt slammed into the wall above Sammy's stomach, leaving a small dent in the cheep, motel drywall. Sammy continued to scream, completely unfazed by his surroundings.
Realizing the gun was useless, Dean discarded it and rushed to his little brother's side. "Sammy! What is it?" he yelled at the screaming boy, anxiety overriding his hunter instinct. Dean quickly jumped on the bed and grabbed his brother's shoulders, forcing Sammy to stare at him. "What's wrong?" he called, blinking back the tears in his eyes. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Sammy continued to look straight through him as if he wasn't even there, and that was what terrified the brother the most.
Sammy always recognized his brother. He could be in a dark room with no light or sound and still know when Dean was with him. He had to know his brother was there, in front of him, protecting him from whatever was attacking him. Dean needed Sammy to know. It was what their whole relationship was based on. So, when Sammy's terror-filled, hazel eyes looked passed Dean, locked on something his brother couldn't see, Dean's heart drop to his stomach.
Dean grabbed his brother's arms and pinned his legs down as Sammy thrashed around the bed, battling against the unknown. "Sammy!" he hollered at the top of his lungs, just trying to get any type of response out of his little brother. As if hearing his brother's request, Sammy instantly stopped screaming, yet his fear-filled eyes continued to search around the room. Relieved for that small blessing, Dean moved behind Sammy and wrapped his arms around him, letting his brother know he was there when he needed him.
He stared at his little brother over the next several minutes as his brother gradually calmed down and drifted back off to a soundless sleep.
The next day, when Dean asked Sammy what happened the night before, Sammy looked at him wide-eyed and confused, asking what he was talking about. Instantly concerned, Dean rushed to the library, supposedly to research the demon, he secretly checked out several books on sleeping disorders. He poured over them for the rest of the night. Even though most of the words were beyond his third grade mind, when he came across the term 'night terror' he knew it was what Sammy had experienced.
So, weeks later, when Sammy's heart-wrenching cries filled the night sky, Dean sat on the edge of his brother's bed and ran a soothing hand through the young boy's hair. Dean knew Sammy had no recollection of their nighttime bonding and probably never would. But he needed his little brother to know he was there for him and always will be.