Disclaimer: I own everything except Scooby Doo. That wonderful pup belongs to cartoon network, aol/timewarner, and probably lots of others.

A/N: This is my first ORIGINAL fic. All my others are Harry Potter fics. I hope you enjoy it. K

When she awoke it was dark. Very dark. She'd gone to bed, minutes or hours ago, and the music from the neighbors' house across the street had still been booming. In fact, it had been so loud that the bass was causing her treasured antique china collection to rattle in the glass-fronted cabinets she was so proud of. Every Friday and Saturday night was the same since she'd moved in with her husband and four year old son.

The new development had very few occupied homes yet; most of the properties were still under construction. That had been the attraction at first. The young couple had wanted some peace and quiet after the hectic pace of the big city. Their development, Whispering Pines, backed up to a large stand of pines and was surrounded by grassy, wind-swept prairie before gently melding into the rolling foothills that led up to the Rocky Mountains. Moving here had been the realization of a long-time dream for their small family. The house itself was large and sunny, with an open floor plan. There was a communal open area behind each house, perfect for block parties and community Easter Egg Hunts when there was finally a community to speak of. And the woods! Tall, old pines, row on row, marching silently toward the mountains, beautiful to look at morning or evening.

Unfortunately, only days after they'd moved in, the house across the cul-de- sac had been purchased by a couple who believed in partying with a capital 'P'! They would come home from work on Friday and Saturday nights and immediately crank up the music. Sometimes, they would party alone, but more often friends joined them. Lots of friends, just as loud and obnoxious as they were. She'd gone over and asked them to keep the noise down, several times. They'd rolled their eyes and made comments about uptight, middle-class Suzie homemakers. She'd finally vowed to call the police the next time they were bothering her, but with her husband out of town this weekend, she'd decided to wait.

Now, though, in the dark of her bedroom, she noticed with a sense of relief that there was no music coming from across the street. It must be really late, she thought briefly, because the inconsiderate idiots across the street usually kept at it until the early morning hours. Glancing toward her bedside table, she noticed how unusually dark her bedroom was. There was no white glow sneaking in around the Venetian blinds from the street light in front of the house, or even the hazy amber from the porch light. And she couldn't see the comforting illuminated numbers of her digital alarm clock, either. More from habit than anything, she reached through the clutter of half-read novels, wadded up tissues, aspirin bottle, water glass and other obstacles on the table to fumble for the switch on the base of her reading lamp.

Finding the small switch, she flipped it. She heard the familiar 'click', but there was no accompanying blaze of light. Still half asleep, she realized she couldn't hear the hum of the refrigerator, either. Damn, she thought. Another blackout! They'd had more than their share this summer, a couple of times even causing her husband to be late to work when the alarm didn't go off. At least it was pleasant outside, almost warm. There had been one blackout during a snowstorm, and they had actually had to go into town to stay at a hotel until the power was back on. She sighed and reached blindly into the drawer of the table, groping for the tiny flashlight she kept there for just such occurrences.

The small, dim shaft of light given off by the flashlight, more a penlight than an actual flashlight, illuminated an equally small area of her rug. She had the path the telephone memorized by now, and was only trying to decide whether to see if she'd popped a circuit or not, or just to call the 24-hour trouble line for her power company when she heard the dull, rhythmic thud of the neighbor's music start again.

Damn, she thought. Not even a blackout could silence them for long. They must have grabbed a battery-operated boom box and cranked it up. Shaking her head, she decided that it must have been the sudden silence that had awakened her in the first place. She moved toward the circuit breaker box on the wall behind the kitchen door. Glancing back to her room, she realized that there WASN'T any light coming from outside besides the moonlight. It had to be a blackout. Fine, she thought. She knew the hotline number by heart. She would call them. But first she would check her son and make sure he was all right. He hadn't been sleeping well the last few weeks, having bad dreams where he said he yelled for Mommy and Daddy, but they never came.

The hallway to his room was even darker than her bedroom. At least she got a slight glow from the moon in her room, but this hallway had no windows and was bathed in inky blackness. For some reason she felt a chill crawl down her spine. She'd hated the dark as a child, but had been able to outgrow that silly fear as she'd gotten older. But suddenly this familiar hallway in her loved dream house brought back every nightmare she'd ever had. Even with the small flashlight, she imagined she saw the shadows moving, dark figures darting just outside the tiny band of light. Get a grip, she told herself sternly, moving toward her son's bedroom door. With a feeling of apprehension she reached for the doorknob, training the beam of light on it as though she expected the knob to suddenly turn into a serpent or crawly bug. She almost touched it when the bass thud from across the street became louder.

She withdrew her hand, barely noticing that it was shaking, and looked behind her with a confused frown. How the hell could they get that kind of noise from a battery-operated radio? What were they running it on, a car battery? Almost at the same instant she felt the dull pounding of one of her migraine headaches begin behind her left eye. Dear lord, she sighed to herself. She'd thought she'd slept the damn thing off. As the throb became more pronounced, she backed away from the bedroom door. If she didn't take something for the headache right away, to 'head it off at the pass' so to speak, she wouldn't be able to function for hours, perhaps days. Then what good would she be to her small son?

Shuffling back to her bedroom, she noticed that the sound of the music was louder at the back of the house, near her son's room. That was odd, but she didn't have time to think about the strange echo-effect of their cul-de- sac as she propped the small light on the edge of her table and then scrambled through her drawer for her migraine medicine. Aspirin didn't do much for these headaches; she needed something stronger. Her prescription bottle was stuffed in the back of the drawer, where her son couldn't just 'happen' on it. She snatched it out, the increasing pain and pressure in her head causing her movements to become erratic. Cursing and fumbling with the childproof cap (damned thing should be called adult proof!) she finally flipped the lid off. Shaking some tablets into her hand, she felt them and counted out two. Her hands were trembling as she tried to pour the rest of the tablets back into the bottle. After a second of deliberation she hooked a third tablet from the bottle, then snapped the lid back on. Groping blindly for her water glass, she nearly knocked it over. It was almost empty, but she popped the tablets into her mouth and washed them down as well as she could with the half-swallow or so that was left in the glass. One tablet stuck, so she dry-swallowed it, her mouth curling up in a grimace as the tablet's 'micro thin' coating dissolved and the taste of the butalbital, caffeine, and aspirin filtered up her throat.

She almost just laid back on the bed to let the medicine take effect. In fact, the idea was so inviting that it made her nervous. She needed to rest, but her son was more important. She would just pop her head in and make sure he was all right. Then she could call the energy company and fall back into bed, letting them sort out this latest outage.

Her head was pounding so badly that she forgot her flashlight. It didn't matter; she knew the way down the hall. She groped her way out of her bedroom when the thumping got even louder. Her eyes flew open in panic. That wasn't music! It was a mechanical sound, one that brought to mind the power plants in large ocean liners or aircraft carriers. And it was getting louder!

The pain in her head was suddenly forgotten. She ran full tilt down the hallway, almost tripping over a small plant stand. She knocked it over and painfully barked her shins in the process. But she didn't even notice. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever in that impenetrable darkness. She could barely hear herself think and she realized that whatever was making the pounding noise seemed to be directly over her son's bedroom!

She threw his door open and almost tumbled over the tiny tot! He was little more than a pale blur in the darkness, and as she threw her arms around him she felt him shivering.

"Its alright!" she whispered. "I'm here now."

He must have been frightened to death. The only thing she could think of was to get to the trees behind the house. They could hide there from whatever it was outside! Pausing only long enough to drag the old comforter from the boy's bed, she bundled him up and lifted him in her arms.

Stumbling back down the hallway, she suddenly felt her insides freeze. The noise had stopped! What could that mean? She slithered along the wall until she got to the doorway to the kitchen. Her heart was pounding triple time as she peeked around, seeing nothing unusual in the moonlight-drenched room. Even without the noise, the compulsion to hide in the old, secure pine forest was overwhelming. She ran through the kitchen, hugging her son tightly, and looked wildly out the back door. The greenway was empty of everything save shadows and moonlight. Her son wriggled in her arms and whimpered, but she didn't have time to soothe him right now. She unlocked the door, trying to be as quiet as possible.

She slipped carefully out of the house and looked toward the trees. They seemed impossibly far away even though the forest started only about a hundred feet from the houses. She could do this, she told herself. She had to save her son! Taking a last breath, she plunged into the moonlight.

The pounding started again, louder, like a physical weight crashing into her body. She tried to keep running, even though the pressure of the pounding noise seemed to be driving into her skull. Stumbling once over her son's tricycle, she just managed to keep her balance. She was going to make it, she thought, almost insane with relief. Only about twenty feet left!

A brilliant, dazzling light engulfed her, blinding her. She tripped, dropping her son and rolling wildly to avoid crushing him. She groped her way to her knees, arms and legs now quaking with panic. Her son! Where was he? Looking around desperately, she couldn't see him. The light was so bright. Blindly, helplessly, tears streaming down her face, she crawled around trying to find him. A shadow fell across the grass in front of her and she gave a cry of joy! Her son was standing in front of her, still swaddled in his comforter. As she reached for him, though, the cover slipped from his head and shoulders. She froze.

The small, gray figure looked down at her with large, almond-shaped black eyes. It reached a long, thin arm to her, as though to help her up. She cringed and stumbled back, arms and legs pumping to get away from the horrid creature. No! her mind screamed! This was impossible! The creature turned and made a beckoning gesture. She looked around and saw at least a dozen other creatures approaching her. Oh, god, her son! Where was her son!?

As her mind shut down, she threw her head back and screamed.

The dull thud of rock music woke her from a sound sleep. She ached all over and wondered why she bothered with 'flu medicine. It didn't work worth a damn! Her body ached and her throat was killing her. Putting a hand to her poor, pounding head, she almost sighed with relief when she heard the sound of car doors slamming and shouts of good-bye from the neighbor's house. She almost reached for her migraine tablets, stuffed in the back of her bedside table drawer, when the music was finally shut off. She couldn't believe they were just now closing down the party.

Opening her eyes, she glanced around her bedroom, feeling strangely relieved to see the amber light spilling in around the Venetian blinds. Looking over at her clock she hissed out a small oath. It was almost four in the morning! Didn't those inconsiderate jerks across the street ever sleep?

Then, with a sudden shudder, she remembered the dream. Nightmare was more like it! No wonder her throat ached, she thought. She must have been crying in her sleep. She brushed at her cheeks and her hands came away wet. Shivering, she reached for the switch on the lamp. A tiny movement beside her made her freeze. There was someone in the bed with her! She tore the covers off of her legs and fell out of the bed into a heap onto the floor, her shins slamming into the heavy bed frame. She was about to scramble up and run when a small voice stopped her.

"Mommy?"

The shaky little voice brought her back to herself. Groping for the lamp with trembling hands, she switched it on and was bathed in its glow. Her son's small, pale head was nestled comfortably on her husband's pillow and he had his favorite old comforter clutched firmly in his hand. She released the breath she hadn't known she was holding and sat on the bed beside him. Stroking the fine hair away from his small brow, she remembered him coming in while she'd been reading. He couldn't sleep and there were funny noises coming from outside his bedroom window. Standard stuff, but she'd let him stay, anyway.

"It's all right, sweetie," she croaked. "Go back to sleep."

The boy sighed and turned his face into the pillow, asleep almost immediately.

Her throat was still killing her, so she decided to see if she had any throat lozenges. She picked up her empty water glass and the aspirin bottle from her table and limped to the bathroom. In the brightly lit room, she studied her face. She looked horrible! And she'd probably have bruises on her shins for weeks!

The medicine cabinet was empty of any sort of throat remedies, so she took a couple of aspirin and gargled with warm water. That should help, she thought. She put the lid on the commode down and sat heavily on it. Rolling up the legs of her pajama bottoms, she hissed when she saw the large lumps on both shins. Damn, she thought. They were already bruised! She'd never bruised this quickly before!

And the swelling looked hours old! Then a horrid, impossible thought began to form in her mind. Her heart started hammering, trying to block out the monstrous thought. Before it could reach its conclusion, the rhythmic pounding started. NO!

She was out of the bathroom and in her room in seconds flat, but her son was gone! She charged up the hall, barely avoiding the tumbled plant stand. Throwing the boy's door open, she saw that it was empty as well. She raced to the window, looking out. The stars and moonlight were gone, as though a giant cloud had covered the sky. The pounding was getting louder and louder, until she clutched at her temples to stop the pain. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a tiny, pale figure, pathetic in little 'Scooby Doo' pajamas and clutching an old, faded comforter, standing in the middle of the yard, looking up. She was about to dash to the kitchen to get outside when the light surrounded the boy. Several figures appeared in the light, beckoning the child, who moved willingly toward them.

She dropped to her knees and screamed again, and again and again.