AUTHOR'S NOTES: So, after 3 hours of burning my eyes on the computer screen, I finally made the first part of my first Supernatural fanfiction. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: Supernatural belongs to somebody else, so don't sue me.

NEARLY LOST YOU by Tari Palantir

Five-year-old Sam Winchester huffed and pouted his chubby cheeks as he sat on one of the playground swings in his school. Why was Daddy taking so long?

It had taken a serious effort in producing his irresistible "lost puppy" eyes (as Dean called it) for his teacher to allow him to play in their small playground. Ms. Dizon didn't like the idea of him playing without supervision, but who could resist Sam's patented look? And so she had let him go, on the agreement that Sam will call for her the moment that anything was wrong. Sam knew she would constantly check up on him anyway, so he happily went and had a go in their small slide and tunnels.

But that seemed like ages ago, and now Sam was actually starting to get bored. As he sat swinging idly to and fro, he couldn't help but wonder why his father was late. He looked up as Ms. Dizon poked her head out from their classroom door, checking up on him. "Is my Daddy here?" he asked hopefully. He let out another impatient sigh as his teacher shook her head. She beckoned him to come inside, and Sammy followed suit, running as fast as his little legs could allow.

Ms. Dizon smiled and ruffled his curly mop of hair affectionately as he came inside. "Look at you, now you're all sweaty and icky!" She playfully made a disgusted face, making Sam laugh. She always looked funny when she did that.

His teacher glanced at her watch. "I will try to call your Dad, okay? He might have forgotten that we will let you kids go early today."

He nodded and watched as his teacher talked to his Dad on the phone. He could faintly hear his father's voice as his teacher informed him that Sam was the only child left in their class. Ms. Dizon hung up and smiled at Sam after a few moments. "I was right, your Dad forgot of our new schedule today. Why don't you sit on the front steps and wait for him? He said he was on his way already."

Sam smiled happily as raced towards the small school's front entrance, waiting eagerly for his father. His teacher chuckled as he almost stumbled in his haste. Sam was really the most endearing among her students.

"I'll be checking on you okay?" she called out to the running child. Smiling, she turned to sit on her table. That was when she saw the man standing in front of her. Her gasp of surprised pain was lost on the little child sitting on the front steps as she fell in an unconscious heap.


Sam was humming one of Dean's favorite songs as he sat waiting for his father. He smiled as he thought of his brother. Dean was older and way cooler than his classmates, so he liked to hang out with him better. "Excepts when he farts really loud," he murmured to himself.

His musings were interrupted by a dull thud. He gasped as he saw a man lying still on the pavement. For a short moment, Sam thought that the man was dead, but then the stranger twitched and moaned a few seconds later.

His little forehead scrunched as he thought of his Daddy's advice, Don't EVER talk to people you don't know, unless I told you to. The man moaned again, rolling onto his back in the hard concrete. Ignoring his father's voice in his head, Sam decided to help the seemingly sick man.

Sam ran towards the man and after a moment's hesitation, tapped the clean- shaven face below him. "Hey mister, are you okay?" The man blinked at him groggily, before groaning. Sam helped him stand up, which wasn't easy, the man was almost as tall as his Daddy.

"Yes, I just need to sit down for a while," the man replied in a smooth deep voice. Sam helped him sit on one of the school steps.

"Are you sick?" Sam blurted out before he could stop himself. "I tell my teacher to call an absmulance."

The man chuckled at the error, but shook his head. "No need, I think I'm fine now. Thank you." Sam continued to stare at him, unblinking. "What's wrong, child?"

Sam moved closer, trying to see if his mind was not trying to trick him.

"Christo." Sam murmured. Dad always told him to check if people are possessed. He feels something odd about the man sitting beside him. He moved closer, trying to detect any change in the stranger's eyes. There was nothing. But now the man was looking at him weirdly, as if he was crazy. Great going Sam, he mentally told himself. Now he thinks you are a weirdo.

"What was that about?" the man asked him.

"Nothing," he lied quickly before changing the subject. "Hey, are you okay now?"

"Yes," the man replied, scooting closer to Sam. "Hey, you want to see a cool trick?" He revealed his closed fist to the boy, as if he was hiding something inside the enclosed hand.

Sam's eyes went wide. Maybe the man was a magician. That would explain why he looked different. He wasn't wearing magician clothes though, just jeans and a t-shirt. "Are you doing magic?" he asked excitedly.

The man cocked his head slightly before beckoning him to come closer. "Something like that."

"Uhm, before you show your magic, can I ask you something?" Sam couldn't resist, so he decided to ask anyway.

The man nodded for him to continue, one fist still enclosed.

So Sam asked the question that has been bugging him from the moment he helped the stranger. "Why are your eyes yellow?"

The man smiled a wicked smile that Sam didn't really like, before responding, "Because Sammy, I am a demon." Then he leaned casually on the steps, as if he just told some randomly trivial thing.

Sammy reeled in shock. A demon? Dad said demons were bad. That one had killed Mommy. But why didn't Christo work? He thought frantically. He tried to move away, but his legs seemed rooted on the spot.

"I'm very powerful Sammy, that's why it didn't work," the man answered, as if reading his mind.

"Now, for my cool trickā€¦"

The last thing Sam remembered was seeing the man open his hand to blow something in his face, before his world was enveloped in darkness.


Please don't read and run. (That's my job!) Flames and constructive criticisms are better than no reviews at all.