When Darkness Calls

Chapter Two

Dean stared at the phone in utter disbelief. "You sick sonuvabitch," he growled, grip tightening on the phone. 

"Shame they were in the way, isn't it, Dean? It was so easy. . . ." The man was quiet for a moment, his steady breathing the only noise breaking the chilling silence. When he finally spoke again, something akin to pure pleasure colored his tone. "The look of terror in a man's eyes when he knows he's going to be murdered is truly breathtaking, Dean. A myriad of emotions all played out for my benefit." 

"Who you talkin' to?" Sam asked, brows pulled together, mouth turned downward as he frowned. 

Dean raised a hand to silence Sam, giving him a warning glance.

"Ah, is that Sammy?" The man chuckled. "I do so love the inflection in his voice. I've often fantasized what it will sound like as he's begging for his life."

The hairs on the nape of Dean's neck stood on end, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "You're not gonna touch him. You hear me?"

"Hang up the damn phone, Dean." Sam turned in his seat to stare at Dean. "Just hang up."

"You know him best, what do you think it would take to make him scream?"

Dean swallowed hard against the tight knot forming in his throat. The muscle in his jaw jerked erratically as he clenched his teeth. "Touch him and I swear to God, I'll hunt you down and kill you." 

"You can't be with him every second, Dean. He is going to die. It's just a matter of when." 

Dean shook his head, eyes narrowing. "You'll never get the chance."

"I can get to anyone . . . anywhere, anytime - like right now." 

Hearing the ominous click-click of a rifle being cocked, Dean dropped the phone. "Sammy, get down!" He grabbed Sam, pushed his head down and ducked. A blast of gunfire echoed through the stillness of the night, quickly followed by another. Glass shattered above them, then the car swerved out of control as the second bullet struck the back tire. 

"Son of a - " Clutching the wheel in a white knuckled grip, Dean struggled to gain control of the Impala as it skidded across the icy pavement and slammed into a snowbank. Dean flew forward, chest colliding into the steering wheel, the wind knocked from him. 

He drew in a staggering breath, clutching his aching chest. "Sam . . . Sammy, you okay?" 

"Yeah. Hit my head on the dashboard." Sam's large hand covered his forehead, blood seeping from beneath his fingers. "You?"

"M'okay." He took a slow breath, wincing. "Let me take a look at that cut."

Sam pulled his hand away, blood oozing from the wound. 

Dean grabbed Sam's chin, tilting his head sideways so he could get a better look at the gash. "It doesn't look too bad. You'll probably need a few stitches."

"Dean, what the hell's going on?" 

"I honestly don't know, Sammy." Dean glanced out the shattered front window into the darkness. Snowflakes swirled through the broken glass and slowly melted on the warm dashboard. "This guy called earlier and said he's been watching us." He shrugged, biting at his lower lip. "It's like he knows everything about us, dude. Everything."

"And when the hell did you plan on telling me someone's stalking us?" Sam stared incredulously at Dean.

"Truthfully, I hadn't planned on telling you at all. Now stay down." Slamming the gear into reverse, Dean looked over his shoulder as he tried to back out of the snowbank. The tires spun as the engine roared, a flurry of snow kicking up. "Come on, damn it! Move you stupid car."