An: So, since Halloween is almost upon us (at least to those who celebrate it), I thought it'd be fun to get in the spirit of things and write a darker Chuck story! It was originally supposed to be a multi-chapter tale, but I decided to shorten it a bit; making each installment sort of a drabble if you will. Hopefully everyone can read and enjoy…or not enjoy, at their leisure. Don't worry about the open-endedness. Everything will fall into place in the next few chapters, I promise!

Review if you'd like :)

Have a Happy Halloween folks!

I never imagined that this is how I was going to die.

Killed by the one I love.

My husband.

Chuck has me pinned down. He's so strong now, fingernails digging into my shoulders, holding me in place. I extend an arm for the machete, but it's just out of reach. My frustration is terribly evident. I begin to thrash wildly. Bound together by anger and fear, a scream of desperation rips from my throat.

I cry. "Chuck, please stop!"

He looms over me, his gaze flickering to mine. His eyes are blood red. They're burning brightly, hungrily. His lips curl and I can see his fangs poking from the roof of his mouth. When he growls, it's inhuman and feral. Out of control. It's everything that Chuck is not. I've lost him among the carnage; bodies strewn everywhere in sight, plentiful and dead. The cut on my wrist is thick and still leaks fresh. How can a single drop of blood cause so much trouble, I wonder.

A pair of eyes watches us gleefully from afar. Laughter then suddenly echoes throughout the room. It's cold, heartless, and hollow. The terrifying sound goads Chuck further into his crazed state; bearing down on me with all his weight till he takes a vicious snap for my neck.

He misses.

Barely.

I see an opening and take it. Delivering a swift knee to his stomach, Chuck's breath catches and he caves momentarily. With one hand over his mouth, I use the other to reclaim machete. I'm praying that Casey and Morgan will arrive soon, come to my rescue. To our rescue. Chuck needs as much saving as I do. Nothing fills me with more dread than the thought of killing him to save myself. I don't think, no I know that if it comes to it, I won't be able to go through with it. But I don't blame Chuck for any of this.

He's not in control.

He doesn't know what he's doing.

God, please no…

It takes a lot to make me lose my composure, but this is enough reason to make anyone cry. My eyes feel wet and tears leak down my bloodstained face. I plead. "Chuck, don't make me do this! I don't want to do this…"

Chuck lifts his head slightly. He sees that I'm wielding the machete with the intent of using it. There's a glimmer of clarity that materializes in his eyes, the red veil blinding him with bloodlust, receding into that familiar shade of chocolate brown I have fallen so deeply in love for.

"I—I can't stop," he whispers. I can hear the anguish in his voice, the choked sob that wrecks his entire body. Chuck bows forward again, burying his face into the crook of my neck. I am too late to react. Petrified, I wait for the tearing of flesh and the hot blood to pour from my gaping wound.

Hopefully it will be quick, painless. Maybe even romantic, in a tragic sort of way. Star-crossed lovers doomed to die at each other's hand. To inevitably be reborn into something awful and undead. If that means I will spend an eternity with Chuck, then it can't be all bad. Those stupid vampire flicks made it seem tolerable.

Forever in love.

"Chuck, I love you no matter what."

He goes rigid, then lax with acceptance. I feel his hot breath ghost against my skin, the tips of his fangs resting on a pulse point. He's poised to attack. But will he take the plunge? I do not know what to expect, but whatever happens, I'll always forgive Charles Irving Bartowski.

I close my eyes and brace myself as I wait for the end, if the end ever comes.

An: Next installment will focus on the past making its way to the present. Sorry if this confused anyone, and I chose to write it in Sarah's POV because i'm already pretty used to it by now, and most vampire stories are featured in the female protagonist's perspective. Isn't it?