Bear in mind, I don't write Supernatural fic, but I have a bunny that's breeding the longer I leave it. I'm begging Amy for as much help as she can give.
Premise: A family is at the center of suspicious deaths (all of fright), and the boys have just interviewed the parents. As they're leaving the fruitless interview, they spot two of the family's children eavesdropping:
There's a staggered pair of eyes peering around the corner at them, and Sam nudges Dean in that direction. Eric steps forward, arm protectively behind him around his sister. As Sam moves closer, Cynthia tries even harder to disappear, pulling Eric's T-shirt tight as she wraps her tiny fists in it.
Dean catches Sam's eyes and gives him a short shake of the head. Let him take the lead on this one.
"You guys know something about all this, don't you?" The pairs of siblings pull up closer to each other, Cynthia still hiding behind her brother, and Eric bracing himself, puffing up to seem as big as possible. "You've heard…or even seen something that might help us."
Sam starts to talk and Cynthia flinches. With a quick gesture Dean signals for Sam to be quiet. This is possibly the only situation where everyone forgets that Dean's a big guy himself, standing next to Sam "Redwood" Winchester. Looks like he intended to use the size discrepancy to his advantage. Sam hangs back.
"Tell me about what you've seen..."
"Cynthia. Her name is Cynthia." Her brother reaches for her hand without needing to look and clasps it in his. "She can *see* it. I can only hear it. She's terrified and keeps ending up in my bed."
"Oh, man! That! When Sammy over there was your age, he ended up in my bed all the time. ALL the time."
"Seriously?" Cynthia speaks for the first time and looks directly up at Sam, who's doing the best he can to shrink and hide behind his bangs.
"Seriously." says Dean in an over-grave voice. "He was like a...like a clinging thing that clings every time he got scared."
"What did you do?" Eric asks.
"My job." Dean's tone is lighter now, sincere. His gaze is on the middle distance. "I protected him."
"Were they real, the monsters?" asks Cynthia, stepping out, still holding Eric's hand, but emboldened by the idea of this massive man scared like she was, and mesmerised.
"Sometimes, yeah."
"And then what?"
"I took care of them, didn't I, Sammy?"
Sam thinks back to when he learnt nightmares were more likely to come true than dreams. And shortly after that, he learnt his young teen brother was as adept with a handgun as with a shotgun, and slept with a hunting knife within reach. There were never monsters under Dean's bed, nor boogey men in *his* closet. They knew better. Sam was safe there.
"He sure did." Sam's eyes are soft, and Dean is smiling the smile he can only give to people who still have most of their innocence left.
"And he's grown up now, so we're both going to take care of whatever this is."
He reaches back and pats the flat of his hand against the expanse of Sam's chest. The sound is solid and reassuring.
"This is really scary, though." Eric is insistent. "What if it scares you? Grownups can totally get scared. I've seen it."
"We'll still take care of it. That's what being grownup means."