So, back to Charlie's POV, crazy POV that it is...thanks for reading and for all the awesome reviews!! bambers;)

Chapter Nine

When I was about seven or eight years old, my grandfather told me something I've never forgotten. He said that a man is never so dangerous as when he feels his family is in danger. I'd imagined John would've whole-heartedly agree with him. Although, I'm also fairly certain John would've seen him as something he needed to hunt as well. But right from the start, I've believed John was mentally unstable so that would only stand to reason.

John's pure, raw anger was nothing short of exhilarating, and I found myself wishing I'd prolonged our first encounter. The killer instinct was there within him, I could sense it in every carefully chosen word he'd spoken, and how he couldn't drag his eyes away from me. If intimidation were a sport, he would've won hands down against a lesser opponent. Too bad for him that I don't cower so easily.

First impressions are an amazing thing. They can tell you a helluva lot about a person, and just from John's handshake I could tell he was the real deal. A true force to be reckoned with. His grip was firm, almost to the point of being a subtle challenge.

His dark eyes were unrelenting, but beneath his hardened resolve, I caught sight of a hidden vulnerability within their depths when he spoke of his boys. He thought of this as a weakness, probably his only one, and went to great lengths to distance himself from the emotions attached to loving his sons too much.

Much like Dean, he'd perfected the art of lying. His voice never wavered as he looked me dead in the eyes and told me the fictitious story about Dean and Sam being some other man's children.

The only thing I'd found utterly disappointing about him was when he'd given into his weaker emotions and gripped hold of my desk as he stood to leave. It belied every moment we'd spent together up until that point, and if it hadn't been for his brilliant recovery in asking what my middle name was, I would've sorely regretted the entire encounter.

Now after our encounter, I'm not so stupid as to believe that John won't try to follow me, nor is he stupid enough to think I'll just walk out the front door either. So we're pretty much at a standoff until one of decides to make our move.

I've never considered myself the kind of guy who runs away from a challenge, and I'm pretty sure John might lose a bit of respect for me if I didn't acknowledge his presence outside. So why the hell not confront him.

As I could tell that John appreciated all my crime scene photos, I gathered them together and stuffed them into my briefcase, stood and headed for the door. I believe he would have been especially impressed if he'd known that the grisly burned victim in the picture I kept showing him was Alexander, but I can't give away all my secrets as I don't believe in giving the punchline to any good joke away before it's time.

After a quick word with the officer in charge, I stepped outside, and it took me only a few minutes to spot his shiny black Impala - not the best car to use when trying to remain inconspicuous - it's like flashing a bright neon sign saying 'hey, look at me I'm a dumbass who thinks I'm being so damn clever'. He was ducked low in his seat, dark eyes directly on me as I stood at the front entrance, and if he was surprised by my boldness at not sneaking out the back way, to his credit, his facial expression never faltered.

With a nod in his direction, I stepped off the stairs, and crossed the road, holding up my hand as I maneuvered through oncoming traffic. His eyes narrowed on me now, lips twitching as his forehead furrowed into a deep scowl. Nope, he definitely hadn't expected me to confront him, and oh, hell yeah, he was pissed.

With a smile, I rapped on his window, and within a moment, he rolled it down. "Something wrong with your car, John?" I asked, feigning my most sincere look of empathy. "I know how these old cars are always just one last ride away from being scrap metal."

"Nothing's wrong with my damn car," John snapped, face flushing with anger.

"So, you're staking out the police station then?" I chuckled, understanding how close he was to flinging open his car door to kill me on the spot. Again, even though his grip tightened around the steering wheel in response to my taunts, I was reluctantly impressed with how well he could control himself. Of course, he realized we were at a standoff of sorts, but he was the one with the proverbially gun pointed at his head while my finger was held firmly on the trigger. "Here's a hint for ya, the criminals in there have already been caught, so you're wasting your time."

"I was just sitting here wondering if maybe you could help me find Sam and Dean," John uttered with a forced evenness, belied only by the slight tremor in his right cheek.

"Not sure how I could be of any help, John." I loved saying his name. It set him completely on edge, and I swear if his grip tightened any more around the steering wheel, he'd probably end up tearing it off. "I still believe their father probably killed them, and think you're wasting time searching for ghosts." I just had to throw the ghost reference in there as he'd certainly understand that I had indeed been watching them and knew about his crazed delusions. "Sometimes monsters are right in our midst, an' we're just too blind to see them until it's too late. So, I guess that's why the world's lucky to have men like you and I here to protect people from harm."

John's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed down how much I actually knew about him and his sons. "Maybe you're right, but I'd still like to pick your brain a little more, and maybe take a look at your files again."

"Sure thing, John, anything I can do to help." If he wanted my help, who was I to argue with him, and why should I deny myself of his entertaining company. "I was just going for a bite to eat, so if you want to tag along, I'd be happy to answer any of your questions."

"Should I follow you?" John asked, accepting my unspoken challenge.

"Why don't I just drive with you?"

He eyed me for a moment, more than likely analyzing my motives - wondering just how lethal I truly was, and praying he could outsmart me. He was clueless.

"That's fine."

As I slid into the passenger's seat, I mentally prepared myself for John's interrogation, which I believed would have more to do with pulverizing my brain rather than picking it for answers about where his boys were. Once he was certain I was trapped inside with him, he revved the engine, hit the accelerator, and peeled out onto the street, leaving a storm of dust and gravel in the car's wake.

"Going a little fast, aren't you, John?" I grinned, tilting my head to glance at the speedometer. "And if I'm not mistaken, the best diners in town are back that way," I added as I looked over my shoulder at the fleeting image of the town. Unsurprisingly, when I turned back the barrel of a .45 was pointed directly at my head.

"Do you normally hide what you do, Charlie?" John responded in a low deadly calm voice, unmatched by the turbulence I saw in his dark, stormy eyes. "Or do you just think you're so damn smart that someone like me could never figure you out?"

"Oh, you're wrong, Johnny," I chuckled, throughly enjoying his little powerplay for my benefit. "Never stupid - out of your mind delusional, maybe, but never stupid."

"Where the hell are my boys?" His finger tensed on the trigger as he gritted out the words, but without knowing where they were, there was no way in hell he was going to kill me - shoot me, maybe, but he was too smart to risk his sons' lives just for a moment of pleasure.

"Last I checked, Sammy was drying out while Dean was just hanging around." The corner of his right eye twitched, and I could sense how much it unnerved him to no end at how unconcerned I appeared at the thought of my own death. "Or was it, Sammy was bleeding really bad while Dean was trying to hold his guts in." I shrugged. "Hmmm . . . I just can't seem remember, John, but either way you'll never find them in time."

"Do you really think I won't kill you, you sick sonuvabitch?" John snarled, slamming on the brakes, and made a hairpin turn onto a dirt road nearly buried beneath an overgrowth of weeds and bramble. Low tree limbs slapped against the metal of the Impala as he barreled down the almost non-existent road.

"Oh, I have no doubt you'd try to kill me, John, but not before you know where your boys are, so I'm sorry if I don't seem all that concerned."

The road came to an abrupt end at a thick green wall of trees and shrubs, and unless John truly believed that if by driving straight through them it might scare me into telling him where his children were, he had to stop. Easing up on the gas, he stepped down hard on the brakes, and came to a grinding halt.

Putting the car in park, he ordered, "Give me your damn gun."

"Whatever you say, John." With a gloating grin, I slipped my hand inside my jacket, yanked the gun out of the holster, and carefully handed it to him. "I'd imagine you don't want to shoot me inside the car, so I'm assuming you want me to get out now, right?"

With his sights trained on me, John cautiously opened his door, and slid out of his seat. "Get out," he hissed, leveling the gun on my chest, and without the slightest hesitation I did as he commanded. "Raise your hands, an' keep 'em where I can see them."

Lifting my hands over my head as he'd requested, I laughed. "Been watching a lot of old western movies lately, Johnny?"

"Enough of them to know that the dumb sonuvabitch like yourself gets blown away in the end, if that's what you mean."

"Insult my sense of humor if you want, but don't you ever insult my intelligence, John," I utter with a mirthful grin, and lifted a brow in amusement as I heard the sound tree branches clashing against mental. "Because you have no idea how much that really pisses me off," I added, nudging my head toward the road behind John, and he swung around just in time to see two black unmarked police cars come into view. "You see, I told them that I had my suspicions that you might be this serial killer I've been tracking, who's become obsessed with me. A guy by the name of Two-finger Charlie who's been really been making a name for himself lately."

"You sonuvabitch!" John growled as he lowered his weapon.

"Don't be so pissed, John," I said, feigning a look of utter relief for my fellow officers' benefit. "Think of it as a compliment. You had me dead to rights, an' if they hadn't shown up when they did, I'm fairly sure you would've killed me, an' hell you would've probably found your boys alive, too."

"I can still kill you right now," John breathed, eyes filled with unadulterated rage. His hand lifted slightly as if he were weighing his options, and I waited breathlessly, wanting to see if he truly had the nerve to shoot me in front of so many witnesses.

"True," I'd admitted, nudging my head toward the four officers who were now exiting their vehicles with weapons drawn, "but then they'd gun you down like you'd gun down a werewolf . . . that is how you kill 'em, right? Silver bullet to the heart . . . I've been studying."

"Sir, throw down your weapon, and raise your hands," the tallest of the four officers shouted to John, leveling his gun on his heart.

"You should do as he says, Charlie," I said, keeping my sights pinned on John, completely fascinated by his growing rage. Although he kept his eyes focused on me, I noticed the slight waver in them as he processed the situation in his mind, trying to determine his course of action. They were keeping him from his boys - they were his enemies, and he was trying to determine if he could somehow disable them all without dying himself in the bloodshed. In that moment, I truly saw him as a worthy adversary. "There's no sense in dying here today when we both know you have something worth living for."

"Sir, we're not gonna ask you again," a shorter scruffy-haired officer hollered, and fired off a warning shot, narrowly missing John's left leg, but he didn't even flinch. "Throw down your damn gun."

"You're caught, Charlie, don't make them kill you." As I spoke, I memorized every line and detail etched into John's face as he glared at me with such intense hatred it nearly stole my breath away.

"Next time I see you, I will kill you." Body tensing, John dropped his gun to the ground.

"Hands in the air," all four officers seemed to shout in unison as they converged on John, and kicking the backs of his knees, they knocked him to the ground. His strength and determination was incredible to watch as he fought against them, damning himself in their eyes. Yet unlike me they didn't realize he was not fighting for himself but the lives of his sons, and so they redoubled their efforts to subdue him.

The scruffy-haired officer yanked out his billy club, and as John momentarily broke free of his captors, he slammed it into his back. John's air left him in rush as he dropped back to his knees. As he struggled to draw in a breath, two officers gripped hold of his arms, yanked them behind his back and cuffed them together. Hauling him to his feet, they dragged him to one of the vehicles, and pushed him into the backseat.

"Are you alright, Agent Porter?" My attention completely on John, I failed to notice the scruffy-haired officer who was now standing beside me.

"I'm fine." I cast a half-hearted smile in his direction, and feigned a sigh of relief. "Think I could have a word in private with him before you take him to the station?"

"You sure you want to?" The younger man lifted a brow, clearly thinking I was out of my mind. "I mean he's obviously out of his mind, an' he has it in for you."

"Unfortunately it's a part of my job to understand the minds of people like Charlie, so there's really no sense in putting it off." Without another word to the pathetic little man, I strode to the car John was sprawled out in, and resting a hand on the hood, I leaned into the vehicle.

"I don't doubt for a moment that you'll find a way to break out of jail, an' get away from these bungling idiots." With a smile, I glanced over my shoulder at my fellow officers of the law, and then refocused my attention on John. "So why don't ya just look me up in the phone book when you get out, so we can take up where we left off." I hesitated for a moment. relishing the look of rage glinting in his eyes, and then add, "I've decide Sam first . . . and then Dean." Without waiting for him to respond, I spun back around, and strode toward the Impala. "He's all yours, boys, I'll be down to the station later to question him further," I called out to the officers as I slid behind the wheel and revved the engine just as John had done earlier. Yeah, it was adding insult to injury stealing John's car while he was forced to watch, but I'd like to think he'd expect no less from me. "I'm just glad I got my car back." Hearing them laughing, I ducked my head and grinned sheepishly. "Cause God only knows how much I hated borrowing my mother's car."