When Darkness Calls

Charlie leapt to his feet, now holding the four-pronged weapon in his opposite hand, his broken arm cradled against his chest.

"What are you gonna do, Dean, kill me while Sammy bleeds to death?" Charlie taunted, his tone low and menacing. "But what other choice, do you have — turn your back on me an' I'll kill ya and Sammyboy dies . . . Or you fight me, maybe you'd beat me, but your brother still dies." Charlie's crazed laughter echoed through the darkened room, grating on Dean's already taut nerves. "Any way you look at it, I've already won."

Matching the man's evil sneer with an equally fervent glare of his own, Dean slowly limped toward Charlie. He raised his knife, poised to strike. "Really, cause I was kinda thinkin', it would only take a couple of seconds to plunge this knife into your heart."

Charlie eyed Dean for a moment, a devious smile spreading across his features as he took several backward steps. "Careful, Dean, you're beginning to sound a bit like me."

"I'm nothin' like you."

Dean continued to advance toward Charlie, jarring pain shooting up through his foot with every stride. Blood spilled from the puncture hole in his right foot with every slow and awkward movement. He grimaced, gritting his teeth, a low hiss escaping his lips.

"Really? You think so?" Charlie took several more back steps. "Revenge has a way of changing a person, Dean. It opens you up to all the dark things you're hiding in your soul. Do you really think you can take my life and not be changed by it?"

"I'm pretty sure, I'll sleep like a baby once you're dead," Dean said, a glint of pure hatred in his green eyes.

"Bravo, Dean, spoken like true cold-blood killer. I'm so proud of you. Means you're just like me."

"I'm not letting you inside my head, you sonuvabitch."

Charlie glared at Dean then his gaze shifted to Sam. "He's dying, Dean, can't you hear the sound of his blood dripping to the ground. His heartbeat growing ever-so faint.— and still you come after me. Really kinda makes me wonder how much you care about Sammy."

"My brother means everything to me."

Hearing a soft, muted cry from Sam's direction, Dean stopped dead in his tracks, never taking his gaze off the serial killer.

"But yet you never take your eye off the prize. Maybe all those years hunting inexplicable evil has left its mark on you after all — what would your dead father think of you."

"You bastard."

Dean charged him, half-running, half-limping, a low guttural cry tearing from his lips as he plunged the knife into Charlie's shoulder. He viciously yanked the blade out and stabbed Charlie again.

Charlie slammed his boot down hard on top of Dean's injured foot, and pushing Dean backward, the crazed man slashed the sharp prongs of the Spanish Tickler across Dean's chest, blood seeping down his shirt from the gashes. Dean stumbled to the ground, a cry of pain erupting from deep within him.

Dropping his weapon, Charlie jerked the knife from his chest, aimed with deadly accuracy and threw it at Dean. Before Dean had a chance to move, the blade struck him in shoulder in nearly the same spot as where he had stabbed Charlie.