Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Awe, fluffy ending – just as promised. Hope there wasn't too much fluff, this one was considerably more fluffy than the other stories I've done.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Sam is 7, and Dean is 11

-/\-SN-/\-

Most of the group collapsed on the living room furniture. As much as John's weary body wanted nothing more than to sink into Bobby's well-worn couch, he had to see his boys. He climbed the stairs with the silent footsteps of the hunter he was and leaned around the doorway.

Dean was half asleep with Ellen's arm around his shoulders, an open book in her other hand. Sam was protectively held across his older brother's lap. Dean smiled when he saw his dad in the doorway. She looked up and smiled as well before she moved to the bed that held her sleeping daughter. John was grateful that she had been there for his boys.

John silently crossed the room and eased himself next to his boys. "How's he doing, Dean?"

"Hasn't woken up yet." He did a good job at hiding the worry. "Did you get it?"

"Yes." John carefully moved Sam into his arms.

Sam turned towards John's chest in his sleep, his thumb still in his mouth. He put his arm around Dean and pulled his other boy close.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Dean." John kept his voice low.

Dean shook his head, he was determined to stay awake and watch over Sam.

"It's gone, Dean. Nothing's going to hurt Sammy. Okay?"

"I'm sorry, dad."

John sighed a little. "And it's still not your fault. None of it. Are we square on that?"

"Yes, sir." Dean smiled.

"Now get some sleep."

Dean looked over at Sam before he stretched out on the bed. John didn't move, he wanted to be near his boys for the time being.

After a few hours, Sam shifted in his father's arms and he opened his eyes.

John looked down and smiled. "How are you feeling, Sammy?"

"Thirsty." He whispered.

Sam still clung to John as he leaned forward for the glass of water. After Sam had finished the water, he shifted so that he was on his father's lap more.

John wrapped his arms around his boy. "Do you remember the dark thing that took you, Sammy?"

Sam nodded.

"Well, it's all gone and it can never hurt you again. Okay?"

He nodded again. "I was scared." He whispered.

John found it almost ironic in that all he has seen and done, those three simple words could break his heart like they did. "You don't have to be scared any more."

"Can I still sit with you and Dean?"

"Of course, Sammy."

Sam snuggled himself into the crook of John's arm and slipped back asleep. John looked over at saw that Dean had woken as well, probably the same moment that Sam had. He and Dean exchanged a small smile before Dean moved so that he could wrap his fingers around Sam's.

--

Since all the hunters were still at Bobby's as the evening approached, the decision to extend the gathering was quickly made. So now they all had another story to tell next time, another successful hunt. They didn't talk about it much that night, it was all still too current, to fresh.

Sam sat on the top step of the porch, under the light. He watched the conversations and heard the laughter of the people that he had grown up with. Dean noticed the extra protections placed around the yard as he dug in the cooler for a bottle of root beer for himself and his brother. He left the group and sat down next to Sam. He passed his younger brother a bottle of root beer.

Jo ran up to them, her eyes bright. "Let's play tag."

Dean glanced over at Sam.

"Dean, you can go. I don't want to." He pulled his hands into the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

Dean looked back at Jo and smiled. "Maybe later." He watched her run back towards her parents.

A firefly faded in and out of the bushes near the house. Dean noticed how Sam tensed as if he was ready to run.

Dean slipped an arm around his brother's shoulders. "You don't have to be afraid, Sammy."

"I'm not afraid." He whispered, his eyes on the blinking light.

"Want to go down and sit by dad?"

Sam shook his head. He liked sitting under the light, liked seeing where the darkness started, as clear as a line he could avoid. Dean knew that Sam would figure out the fear on his own, but that was a battle that Dean couldn't fight for him. Sam watched the firefly drift away and sighed a little.

Dean suddenly got an idea. "Sam, I'll be right back, okay?"

Sam watched as Dean ran into the house. His older brother returned a few seconds later with something hidden in his sweatshirt pocket. He stepped down the porch steps.

"Wait." Sam stood.

Dean stopped and turned at the panic in Sam's voice. "I'm okay, Sammy." He took a step back, into the darkness. "See?"

Sam gripped the railing.

Dean kept walking backwards, towards the group of hunters. "Can you still see me here?"

Sam nodded.

"I'll stay right where you can see me."

"Be careful." Sam whispered.

Dean kept one eye on his brother as he carefully guided a few fireflies into the jar he had in his pocket.

"…John, you seemed pretty interested in what it had to say." Bill's comment was relaxed, but there were undertones that even Dean caught.

John was about to take a drink, he lowered the bottle half way. "Not really."

"Bull shit, John, and you know it." Bill leaned forward.

Dean paused to listen, his eyes on Sam sitting on the porch.

Bill took a drink. "I heard it too, said Sam was special somehow."

"Things lie, Bill." John tried again to deflect the comment.

"Yeah, but I never saw you listen to the lies." Bill sighed. "I get it, if it were Jo in Sam's place, I'd listen too. That's not what caught my attention."

"So what did?" John felt his back tighten, leave it to hunters to find something he wanted to keep hidden.

"You weren't surprised."

John turned to him, met his eyes. "You're my good friend, Bill, but I'd appreciate it if you let me keep some things in my family." His tone was final, end of discussion.

Bill leaned back, let another, less serious, conversation start before he added so only John could hear. "If there is something different, special, about Sam, then I'd keep a close eye on him. From the sounds of it, things out there already know about him. That's the father speaking in me, John, not the hunter."

John nodded once and took a drink. He glanced back at the house and saw Sam still sitting on the top step, his arm wrapped around the railing. Dean stood and tightened the lid on the jar. John knew he was there, knew he heard.

As Dean tried to slink away, John caught his arm. "Don't tell your brother what you heard."

"What exactly did I hear?" He glanced at Sam.

"Things I don't want Sam knowing."

Dean met his father's eyes. "Special how, dad? Special like what you do?"

John looked into his son's eyes. "I don't know for sure. Promise me that you won't tell him."

"I promise." Dean whispered, though he didn't know why other than he saw the brief flicker of the fear of unknown in his dad's eyes.

He smiled at his son. "How's Sam doing?"

"Scared." He smiled. "But I'm gonna fix it."

"Okay." He squeezed Dean's arm before he left.

Dean ran back to his brother, the jar of fireflies behind his back. Sam smiled out of relief at his brother's return. Dean sat down next to him, the jar out of Sam's sight.

"What did you get?" Sam asked.

"Do you trust me?"

"Course." Was the automatic reply.

Dean paused. "I promise you won't get hurt. I'll be right here, okay?"

Sam nodded, a little more wary now. Dean slowly brought the jar of fireflies around. Sam moved away from it until his back was against the railing.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean kept his voice low, his hands on the jar. "I'm just going to let them sit here for a little bit."

He wanted to run back into the house, but knew that Dean was trying to help. Sam took a breath, kept one eye on the jar of fireflies and reached for his older brother's hand.

"The ones that the bad-dark thing had, weren't real." Sam whispered, his voice barely louder than the breeze and his eyes on the jar. "He showed me."

That was the first thing he had said after nearly a half hour of silence.

"These ones are real." Dean smiled.

"Are you sure?"

Dean carefully unscrewed the lid. Sam moved back another inch or two. Dean held one of the fireflies in his hand as he put the lid back on to keep the others from escaping.

"Give me your hand, Sammy." Dean's voice was confidant and he smiled.

Sam held out his open hand. Dean eased the firefly onto Sam's fingers. The little boy tensed, but held still. Dean saw the slight tremor of his little brother's hand. The firefly crawled over Sam's hand, blinking as it went. Slowly a smile found it's way back onto Sam's face. He looked up and met Dean's eyes.

"See?" Dean smiled because Sam was.

The firefly flew away and blinked in the night. Sam watched it with Dean's arm around him.

"It's a lot littler than you are, and it's not afraid." Dean whispered.

Sam looked over at his older brother.

"Wanna go sit by dad?"

Sam looked at the jar of fireflies. "Can we bring them with?"

Dean smiled. "Only if you carry them."

The two boys stepped off the deck. A jar of fireflies in the hands of the youngest, cutting through the darkness like the hopeful beam of a lighthouse. Sam carefully set the jar down and climbed up onto John's lap. Dean took a chair beside them.

John looked over at Dean. They both knew that it'd be a while before any of them would sleep through the night, whether it was Sam's terrified voice in the dark, or their own fears causing them to make sure that the little boy was still in his bed where he belonged. It didn't matter so much. Dean would be there to slowly show Sam that there wasn't anything to be afraid of, even when there was – but Sam didn't have to know about that now.