When Darkness Calls

Chapter One

I wrote this story a long time ago, set back when the Yellow-Eyed demon was still after Sam. The boys are being hunted by a serial killer, and as such, I am putting a warning here for graphic violence. Trust me, this story is not for the squeamish. If you choose to read, I hope you enjoy my evil mind...B.

When Darkness Calls

"Dean, your phone's ringin' again," Sam mumbled as he rolled over on his bed. "Come on, dude, answer the damn thing or we'll never get any rest tonight." He wrapped the pillow over his head, snuggling deeper under the covers. The sound of his steady breathing told Dean his brother was asleep even as he yawned and tried to shake the cobwebs from his mind.

"Okay, Sammy." Dean yawned, stretching tired muscles. Bleary-eyed, he fumbled for the cell on the bedside table. "Hello."

Deafening silence, the only reply.

"When I find out who the hell this is, I'm so gonna kick your ass for keeping me awake night after night for nearly two weeks." Dean jabbed the disconnect and slammed the phone down.

Another ring.

He snatched the phone from the nightstand. "Who the hell is this!"

"How's Sammy, Dean?" came a deceptively soft voice. "He looks so peaceful when he's asleep. It's almost as if he doesn't know he's being watched."

Dean shot to his feet, fingers tightening around the phone. Grabbing the knife from beneath his pillow, Dean stormed to the window, yanked back the curtains and peered out into the darkness. Not seeing anything, he went to the door and flung it open. "Where the hell are you?" he growled, eyes narrowing as he searched the parking lot.

"I wonder if that's how he'll look when he's dead?" The man on the other end of the line laughed.

"You touch one goddamn hair on his head, and I swear to God, I'll hunt you down and rip you apart with my bare hands, you sonuvabitch!"

"You won't even be able to find me, Dean." He chuckled. "I've been watching you for months now and you've never even noticed me."

Dean stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. He shivered as a blast of icy air bit at bare skin. Heavy snowflakes swirled around him, dampening his face and clinging to his thick eyelashes. He blinked them away, mind racing, trying to recall anyone who might've been following them. "What do you mean, you've been watching us?"

"You like your coffee black, think M&M's are a food group, have a weird late night obsession with graveyards, and sleep with that knife you're holding under your pillow."

Dean stared incredulously at the blade he held in his right hand, then glanced from side to side, searching the deserted parking area. How the hell could he know that?

The man drew a deep breath and continued, "Sammy, on the other hand, likes a dash of cream in his coffee, twirls his fork through his scrambled eggs when he's deep in thought, hates being called Sammy, and has terrible nightmares where he wakes up screaming."

Dean took a shuddering breath, frigid air burning his nostrils. Mindless of the cold stinging his bare feet, Dean climbed onto a snowbank and peered into the darkened woods. Moonlit shadows dipped in and out through the skeletal trees, branches bent eerily in the breeze. "How do you know so much about us?"

"I told you, Dean. I've been watching you. Watching and waiting, trying to decide. . . ." The man's voice trailed off, baiting Dean.

"Trying to decide what, you sonuvabitch?"