So I noticed that there aren't enough It's Always Sunny stories on this site, so in the spirit of Halloween even though technically it's not Halloween anymore I decided to write one. Fans of the show are aware that numerous times throughout it's episodes, that it's implied that Charlie was sexually abused. I decided that hey why not let me write something dealing with that. If he seems OOC then I apologize, but well hey that's the way that I went.

Disclaimer: I don't own It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, or the song Night Man, whose lyrics are in italics, but I do own this story. It may seem a bit intense so there's your warning for that.

Night man, sneaky and mean

Charlie rolled around on the futon that he shared with Frank, and he woke up in a sweat dreaming of things from the past. For a second he mistook the sleeping Frank for his Uncle Jack, and for that same second he felt as if he was once again a small child trying to fall asleep in his bed before the Night Man showed up. Every night he would be wide awake as his uncle would try to share his room with him; every night he would be wide awake as he was visited by the Night Man.

Spider inside my dreams

Charlie rolled to the side of the futon and leaned over the bed to grab a tin of cat food he had resting on the floor. As he sat up on the futon and began eating some of the cat food, he knew that he needed to sleep, but he didn't think that drinking beer or huffing glue would do the trick tonight. He tossed the cat food across the room and yelled, knowing that Frank was too fucked up to wake up anyways, and Charlie let himself become lost in the wailing of the stray cats that were outside his apartment. He knew that he needed to sleep, but he didn't want to, since he knew that his dreams would be the same as always.

He was always a small boy again, always trapped in his room, and he had no escape when the spirit came to visit. At least that's what it was in his dream, but in real life what had happened was a thousand times worse. The fucking had been worse, it had been more violent, but now Charlie could defend himself, when back then all he could do was take it. The fucking still happened in his dreams, but now Charlie could wake up and escape the memories. It was not something that he could do as a boy.

I think I love you

He couldn't sleep, and that was what he was thinking about. When he was younger that's what he convinced himself, but it had always made him feel strange. What happened to him was not love at all. Fucking until there is blood is not love; fucking until a little boy runs out of tears is not love.

You make me wanna cry, you make me wanna die

Crying is what he used to do every night after the Night Man left, and even as an adult he still felt dirty. Charlie, the King of Rats, was strong: he could take a beating, he could take being run over by a car, he could take the numerous rejections bestowed upon him by The Waitress, and he could take being shot in the head, but he couldn't take it when he let his memories fester. He was an abortion survivor, but sometimes Charlie wished that this wasn't the case.

I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you Night Man

Love was the only thing that kept him sane all these years, or at least convincing himself that he was so. It was what the Night Man demanded of him whenever he visited, and Charlie had been too afraid to deny him that love, he would always be too afraid.

Every night you come into my room and pin me down with your strong arms you pin me down

Charlie looked down at Frank, and then he readjusted himself so that he could get back to sleep. He slipped under his covers, and wondered if the tiny, albeit wild, man next to him had ever had dreams as vivid as the ones that he would have. Charlie could still feel the Night Man holding him down, removing his pajamas, and he felt himself trembling slightly as he would always hear his Uncle Jack's voice telling him that everything was going to be okay. In his dreams he struggled, in reality he had done the same, but little boys aren't strong enough to contend against powerful spirits. At least that's what he used to think, but now Charlie knew better; little kids aren't strong enough to fight off good ol' Uncle Jack.

And I try to fight you, you come inside me you fill me up and I become the night man

Charlie tried to sleep, but the wailing cats prevented this, although maybe this was a blessing in disguise. If he slept he would not only remember the struggle as a child, but he would experience it all over again in dreamland. He was too weak to fight off the Night Man, and he hated the feeling of his body becoming slack as he let the Night Man finish with filling him up. Charlie knew that in his adulthood he had become just as depraved as he was; he had become just like the spirit that he hated. Fucking bastard.

Just two men sharing the night, it might seem wrong but it's just right

The Night Man's familiar words rang through Charlie's mind as he tried to futilely block out the memories. It was always the spirit's mantra to say to Charlie right before, and right after, he got through with his business. To Charlie, no matter what, it would always seem wrong. Too fucking wrong.

It's just two men sharing each other, it's just two men like loving brothers

Charlie rolled around in bed when he thought of the word love. No that's not what love is. That's not what love is supposed to be. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking asshole! Fuck!

One on top, and one on bottom, one inside, and one is out

Charlie pulled at his hair knowing that it was always the Night Man who was on top. The little boy was always submissive, always the one on bottom, and the child always cried when the Night Man entered him. Charlie's eyes were closed now, and in that darkness an image of that occurrence flashed in his mind, He couldn't help but notice that the Night Man looked an awful lot like Uncle Jack, and that the little crying boy looked like him.

One is screaming he's so happy, the other's screaming a passionate shout

Charlie couldn't help but wonder why nobody had ever heard, or done anything about, the screaming. There was always so much screaming. The Night Man's, always in the voice of Uncle Jack, screamed with words of joy, while Charlie's were of pain. Pain is passion. Fucking isn't love.

It's the Night Man

He forced his eyes shut as he heard some people walk past his apartment door. Instinctively he listened for his uncle's voice.

The feeling so wrong it's right man

His uncle's voice.

the feeling so wrong...


I can't fight you man when you come inside me and pin me down your strong hands

He was shaking in bed; there was nothing that he could have done.

And I'll become the Night...the passionate, passionate Night Man

Charlie's eyes were now wide open. He was a soul wandering eternity through pain and suffering, never knowing the joys of heaven. He was as depraved as Jack. He had become the Night Man.

Tell me what you think? I was going for a "fucking eh" type of response. I hope I delivered. Also I put this as Rated T. Should it be M?