I actually posted the first two chapters of this story over the last few days under the name Melancholy Requiem, but somehow I had an error with my account so I decided to delete and repost it (twice). (Sooooo sorry for those who have already read these chapters!!) Anyway, hopefully all will go smoothly from here.

"Sure thing Bobby…yeah, we'll be careful, talk to you soon." Dean flipped his cell shut and shoved it back into his jeans pocket. He took in a deep breath of the crisp night air and then walked back into the bar to look for his brother. Dean spotted Sam sitting alone in a corner with a bottle of beer, looking like he was bored to death.

Sam looked up as he approached and raised his eyebrows. "So? What'd he say?"

"He said you need to loosen up, Sammy. Relax. Pick up a girl or two…or three…or five…"

"Knock it off Dean, I'm tired. We've been driving all day."

"Exactly. I for one am ready for a little action…did you see that blond chick behind the bar? I mean, did you see her?" he grinned at his little brother and sat down opposite him at the table. "I'm gonna work my irresistible charm on her, she'll be mine in ten minutes tops…"

"Dean…" Sam said, and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want her Sam? Don't worry, I'll find out if she has a sister."

"You're unbelievable."

Dean's smile widened, and he leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. "I know."

Sam couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face. He took another sip of his beer and then looked at his brother again. "Dean…"

Dean sighed. "Fine, fine…you're a real kill-joy, you know that Sam?" he shook his head and continued, "Bobby said that there have been a few incidents in town here that we should check out since we're in the area."

"Incidents?"

"Yeah, incidents. A couple of rumored ghost sightings…pretty standard stuff. Should just require a simple salt and burn."

"Okay." Sam said. He watched Dean's eyes wander back to the blond girl, who had started dancing on the bar. "Dean, I'm gonna head back to the hotel." Dean didn't respond, and Sam sighed in exasperation. "Dean…Dean…Dean!"

"Wha—What? You say something Sammy?"

Sam smiled and stood up. "I'm beat, Dean. I'm gonna call it a night."

"Fine, go get your beauty sleep…your loss." Dean said dismissively, standing up and walking toward the bar.

"Not really." Sam muttered with a grin. He walked toward the exit, only stopping to take one more look at his brother who had struck up a conversation with the woman, and stepped outside. The air was chilly but comfortable, and he walked briskly across the parking lot toward his hotel across the highway, gravel crunching softly under his feet.

He made it to the room without a problem, unlocked the door, and laid down on one of the beds. After a few minutes he stood up and got his laptop out of his bag, intending to see if he could find out anything about the ghosts Bobby had been talking about.

Hours later, Sam was pretty sure that the ghost sightings were all just a hoax, and Dean wasn't back. He stood up, stretched, and walked into the bathroom, intending to take a shower. He turned the taps on and then stepped back.

Suddenly, a stabbing pain erupted in his head. He gasped and staggered back a few feet. "Whoa—"

It happened again, and it took everything he had not to fall to his knees. He had had enough visions to know exactly what they felt like—

—and this wasn't a vision. This was something else.

He realized that he had to call his brother and forced his eyes open. The room was spinning violently, and he felt as though he was going to be sick. Sam forced the bile back down and somehow made his way across the room to where he had left his phone sitting on the nightstand. He blindly pressed what he hoped was Dean's speed dial and put the phone up to his ear.

"Hey Sammy." Dean's voice said. At that second, another stabbing wave of pain exploded in Sam's head and he fell to his knees, unable to speak. Dean mistook his silence for moodiness and kept talking. "So it turned out that that blond chick wasn't that much fun after all…she's married. Shocker, huh? Anyway, I'm out with Carla now—she's hotter, single, and much more interesting." Sam bit his lip, not trusting himself to say anything without screaming into the phone. His silence made Dean uneasy. "Sam, is something wrong…Sammy…say something, man."

Sam opened his mouth "De—"

"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean demanded, hearing the pain in his brother's voice.

"H-help." Sam chocked out. "H-hurts."

"I'm coming Sammy, okay? You're in the hotel, right? What hurts?" Dean's panicked voice demanded. Sam felt the phone slip through his fingers and land on the carpet. The pain was greater than anything he had ever experienced, it felt as though his head was going to explode. The world around him felt like it was spinning—round and round and round—

Sam slowly regained consciousness. His head still hurt, but the stabbing pain had lessened to a throbbing ache. He groaned, and used his arms to slowly ease himself up into a sitting position.

He opened his eyes and couldn't see anything. The room was completely dark—the lights must have somehow been shut off. For a moment he thought that Dean must have done that, but then he realized that if Dean had been there he would have at least gotten him off the floor and into a bed.

He remembered that he had fallen near the nightstand. "There was a lamp on the stand." He muttered, and reached his hands out all around him—all he felt was the wall. "Weird…ok, my cell will give off light…" he said, trying not to panic. He felt along the floor and let out a sigh of relief when he found the device. It was still open from when he had dropped it, and he pressed another key so that it would light up again.

The phone gave off a very dim, blue light. Sam held the phone up and turned, expecting to see the bed and nightstand. They weren't there.

"What the hell?" he muttered, standing up slowly. The light from his phone shone on the wall, revealing badly chipped and peeled paint. He took a step forward and something cracked under his feet. Glass shards. Sam looked around and saw that the floor was covered with odd pieces of debris, and the whole room smelled of mold and dust, like it hadn't been used for years. "How did I get here?" he whispered, confused. "This isn't the hotel."

He turned and walked into the room. A rusty bed frame was propped up against the side of one wall, but aside from that the room was empty. The windows had been boarded up with planks of wood, and a few rays of moonlight shone through the gaps. Sam walked forward toward the window and put his phone down on the ground. He grabbed one of the boards with both hands and pulled with all his strength.

After a few good tugs he managed to pry the plank away from the wall, letting in more moonlight. Sam dropped the wood and leaned forward to peer out of the gap and see where he was.

The area around the building was thick with fog; it covered the surrounding area like a blanket, hiding everything from view.

There was a sign in front of the building. Sam squinted, straining his eyes to read the faded words. "Comfort Hotel…" he read, and blinked in confusion. "That can't be right…that's the hotel we were staying in…"

Sam picked up his phone and dialed Dean's number. It rang twice and then crackling static blasted through the speaker. "Dean? Dean?...Damn it." He said angrily, ending the call.

He turned to leave the room, but stopped to take a knife out of his pocket. Unfortunately all of his guns were in his bag and in the trunk of the Impala, so that was the only weapon he had. Sam looked at the room closely, taking in the size, shape, where the door was, where the bathroom door was, and everything else. The layout was exactly the same as the room he had checked in to—it was the same room—but it wasn't. "I have to find Dean." He said, and strode carefully toward the door. Right before he left, he heard a soft splash from the bathroom.

He froze in mid-step.

It happened again, louder this time. Sam slowly turned and looked toward the bathroom door. It was closed.

Knife ready, he walked over to the door and opened it—it creaked open eerily, revealing the pitch black bathroom. Sam held his phone up, but he couldn't see anything. He took a step forward and water splashed under his foot. The bathroom was flooded with a few inches of water.

"Is someone in here?" Sam asked quietly, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet place. "Anyone? I'm not going to hurt you." He stepped forward a few feet until he saw the bathtub. It was one of those multipurpose ones, with a shower overhead.

The tub was overflowing with water.

Sam stepped closer, trying to figure out what had made the splashing noise. He held his phone over the bathtub to see if he could see anything.

The water was black. Sam got an uneasy feeling that something wasn't right, and he peered closer into the water—

The bathroom door slammed shut behind him, startling him. He dropped his phone—right into the tub of water.

"Shit!" Sam gasped, his heart pounding in his chest. He was surrounded by darkness and couldn't see a thing. He remained perfectly still for a moment, silence thundering in his ears, knowing that he had to get his phone back or he wouldn't be able to see.

Sam reached his left hand into the tub—it struck the bottom. He breathed a sigh of relief and moved his hand to the right, feeling blindly for his phone.

Without warning, something latched onto his arm and yanked him down, submerging his whole upper body in the water. Sam gasped in surprise, breathing in a whole mouthful of water—water as cold as ice. He struggled to stand back up but what felt like dozens of hands grabbed onto his upper body, bruising him, digging their nails deep into his skin—keeping him trapped under the water. His feet kept slipping as he tried to stand up, there was no traction in the flooded bathroom—

His left hand was still clutching the knife, and he stabbed wildly at whatever was in the water—he was out of air, he couldn't breathe—

His knife hit something solid, but all the hands merely tightened their grips instead of letting go. He stabbed again, helplessly, his head was spinning, he was going to lose consciousness at any second—

Suddenly they all let go of him, and he felt himself float upwards toward the surface of the tub—

Something grabbed him around the waist and yanked him out of the water. He landed on the floor, gasping for air.

"Come on!" a voice yelled at him. "They'll be back! We have to get out of here!" two hands grabbed onto him and pulled him upwards, towards the door. His head still spinning, Sam willed his legs to move, and with the help of his rescuer he managed to stumble out of the bathroom, through the room, and out into the hallway, where he collapsed against the wall, breathing hard.

"What were you trying to do, get yourself killed?!" the voice demanded.

Sam opened his eyes and looked up. A young woman was standing above him, studying him with her hazel eyes as she kept her flashlight pointed at him. She looked like she was in her early twenties, and had straight blond hair that fell past her shoulders. She was wearing ripped jeans and a black t-shirt, and had an assortment of weapons strapped to her thighs and back. "W-who—are you?" he managed to say.

She stared back at him. "My name is Leandra Turner…" she said dismissively, "The real question is who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?"

Sam shrugged. "My name is Sam Winchester…and wherever here is, I honestly don't know how I got here." He took in a deep breath and sat up straighter, looking at the door they had just come out of. "Shouldn't we move before those things come back?"

Rachel shook her head. "They can't get us out here…" when Sam looked at her in confusion she continued, "I call them Puddle Jumpers…they only live in water—swimming pools, streams, puddles, bathtubs...and any other watery environment—and they're deadly, obviously."

Sam stared at her. "How did you get them to let go of me?"

"I lit a match." She said, and shrugged when he looked at her with disbelief. "Don't look at me like that. So far, fire is the only thing I've found that scares them…I'm not sure why."

"That doesn't make any sense—"

"You don't think I know that? None of this makes any sense!" she snapped, "And keep your voice down, something will hear you!"

Sam shook his head, and got shakily to his feet. "Where are we, Leandra?"

She shrugged. "I don't know for sure—"

"Well where do you think we are, then?"

She laughed bitterly. "Honestly? I think we're in some nightmarish alternate reality. It's like Earth, but everything is twisted and horribly different. There are no people anywhere, and instead there are all these monsters—" she cut off and looked straight at him.

He looked at her closely. "How long have you been here?"

"Too long." She said, taking out a knife and running her pointer finger up and down the blade. "About eight months ago I got this searing headache and passed out—when I woke up I was here."

Sam's eyes widened. "That's exactly what happened to me a little while ago!" he paused, "…you've been stuck here for eight months?"

Leandra shook her head. "It's more of a cycle…I get a headache and wind up here for some period of time—sometimes hours, sometimes days…it varies each time—and then I get another headache and wake up in the real world." She paused. "Eventually I ran away from home…I couldn't tell my family the truth of why I disappeared for extended periods of time—they'd think I was insane—so I just…left."

"Dean." Sam said suddenly.

"What?"

"My brother—Dean. He's probably worried sick by now."

"Yeah, well…there's nothing he can do."

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean'll figure something out. He'll get us out of this mess."

Leandra rolled her eyes. "I doubt it, but I'll take whatever hope I can get." Suddenly her eyes widened and looked down the dark hallway to the left.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered. "Something's coming, we have to move." she handed him a pistol and together they walked down the hall, Leandra in the lead. As they walked, Sam couldn't help looking around. Everything was falling apart. Some rooms were missing doors, there was no carpet, the walls looked as though they could crumble at the slightest touch.

Leandra stopped suddenly, and Sam almost ran into her. "What?" he whispered.

"We have a problem." She murmured softly. "The stairs are on the other side of that."

Sam looked ahead and saw that the ceiling had fallen in ahead of them, blocking their way down the hall. There was an elevator shaft on the right wall. "I'm guessing that the elevator's not working, right?" he questioned.

"There's no power in the building, Sam. Of course it's not working."

Sam looked back down the hallway the way they had come. "Can we go back that way?"

"No…from the sound of it a lot of them are coming toward us."

"A lot of what?"

Leandra looked at him, "I tend to think of them as mutant wolves...they're not the most dangerous things here, but they're fast and hard to kill and they tend to travel in large groups and—you get the picture."

"Okay." Sam said quickly, thinking. He looked at the elevator again—there was a small gap between the doors. It was too small to squeeze through, but maybe… "Maybe we can pry this door open with something and escape that way."

"The elevator?" Leandra said, "I suppose—"

Sam walked forward to where the ceiling had caved in to block the passage. "There has to be something useful here…" he muttered. Leandra stayed back, her gun pointed at where the creatures were coming from.

Sam spotted a piece of a metal pipe in the wreckage, and carefully pulled it out. "This should work."

"What do you want, a cookie? Less talking, more hurrying." Leandra said bluntly. Sam could hear growling nearby.

He hurriedly used the pipe as a crowbar to open the doors. They moved open an inch.

"A little faster, please…" Leandra said, "Time is not our friend here."

"I'm going—as fast—as I can." Sam grunted, straining to get the door open. The doors moved another inch…and then a few more… "There. We should be able to squeeze through." He said, and secured the pipe in one of his belt loops in case he would need it later.

Leandra backed up holding the gun and shone her flashlight into the hole. "Sam…the elevator's not there."

"That's what I was hoping for, this way the wolves can't follow us." He said. "We'll have to hang from those cables—can you do that?"

"As opposed to being eaten—hell yes." She said quickly.

"Go." Sam said.

Leandra pointed the light into the shaft and looked around. There was a cable directly to her left that she could easily reach. She squeezed through the doors and reached for the cable. When she had it securely within her grasp she jumped away from the floor and into the shaft, hitting a wall. Somehow she managed to keep her grip on the cable, and braced her feet on a different part of the wall while her nails dug into the skin of her hands as she tried to keep a tight hold on the line. "Sam! I'm in, come on!" she hissed urgently.

Sam's head appeared in the shaft as he squeezed through. Leandra pointed her light at one of the other cables. "Go for that one." She suggested.

Sam nodded and reached out his hand—

His face contorted in pain. "Argh!" he looked back through the gap and saw that one of the wolves had sunk its sharp teeth into his ankle. He quickly pulled his gun out of his jeans and shot the thing twice point blank in the head. It let out a deep, full throated growl, but continued to hang on to him. "What—how—Leandra, it's not dead!"

"It'll take a lot more than two bullets to kill one of those things, Sam! I told you, they're like freakin' mutant wolves on steroids!"

"Fantastic!" Sam shouted. "So exactly how am I supposed to—"

"Keep shooting it, you idiot!" she yelled back. "Here!" she unstrapped a gun off of her back and threw it at him.

Sam somehow managed to catch the shotgun, and fired all of the bullets into the wolf's head before it finally whimpered and let go. Sam pulled his leg back through the hole right before another wolf could clamp its' teeth down on him, and then cried out as all of the wolves fought and scratched to get through the gap in the door. Suddenly he lost his footing and fell backwards.

"Sam!" Leandra screamed.

He managed to grab onto something sticking an inch or two out of the wall, and held on. He winced, knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep his grip for long, and look into the shaft. There was a cable near him, but it was slightly out of his reach. "I'm gonna have to jump for it." He announced.

"No!" Leandra said. "You'll fall!"

Sam felt his hand slipping. "I'm going to fall anyway!" he yelled back. He took a deep breath and then leapt for the cable. He managed to grab it, but it kept sliding through his hands as he fell down—

He heard Leandra screaming, felt the air streaming through his hair, and then—

He managed to get a firm grip on the rope and stopped falling with a jerk. "Aaagghhh!" he yelled painfully. "Ohhh God—!" his hands were smoking, and felt as though they were on fire.

"Sam!" Leandra yelled frantically, peering down at him. "Are you alright? Sam!"

"I'm fine!" he yelled back, and heard her sigh in relief somewhere above him. He looked upward and saw the light from her flashlight angled down toward him. Suddenly her expression changed from relief to horror. "Sam…"

"What?"

"The elevator is coming up…there's no power, but it's coming up!"

"What? How, that's—" Sam looked down and saw the elevator rising slowly towards them. "Oh, that's bad…"

"Okay…okay…we can get out of this…" Leandra said shakily. "I've been through worse…"

"Worse?!"

"Shut up, I'm thinking!" she yelled back. "Ummm…uh…I know! Aren't there always doors on top of the elevators? In case people need to get out quick or something? We can use it to get in and then we won't be crushed!"

"Sounds good to me." Sam said. He waited a few more seconds and then let go of the rope, landing with a thud on the top of the elevator. He looked around, and instantly saw the little hatch Leandra had been talking about. He leaned down to pry it open—

And heard something INSIDE the elevator. He froze as he heard heavy footsteps walk directly under him...

Sam dove to the side just as a monstrously long and wicked blade sliced through the ceiling of the elevator like it was butter, piercing the air where he had just been standing.

Hey everyone! It's been several months since I've written anything for this site, but this idea popped into my head and I decided to give it a try. Sorry it was such a long chapter, I actually combined the first 2 chapters that I had originally posted. This will be a Supernatural story in a Silent Hill like environment. Please review and tell me what you think!