I also don't own any of the fandoms from which I've borrowed from, the real owners are multiple and various. Also, it should be noted that while the concept may seem... odd, at best and indeed, it started from a slightly humorous drabble, the story doesn't feature so much humour as it features death and violence. So be forewarned.
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I. SEPTEMBER WARNING
Hikari had fallen asleep on the passanger seat, Amane noted from the corner of her eye. She herself didn't feel particularly sleepy thanks to her latest dose of caffeine and she focused on the road ahead. The short white stripes on the asphalt sped past the car as it put one mile after another behind them, leaving behind the Astraea Hill and all of it's petty schemers and loyal friends alike. The power struggle over the Etoile-position, soon to be left vacant by Tamao and Nagisa, and the antics of Yaya and Tsubomi. Leaving it all behind just for a while, with a single purpose on Amane's mind:
To give Hikari the 16th birthday that she deserved; one that she'd never forget. She had had to go through fire and ice to arrange things so that Hikari could be excused from school for a few days. University was far easier in that regard; come to think of it, Amane mused wryly, she probably would've had an easier time getting Hikari on a leave from a prison.
Casting another look at the sleeping beauty next to her, Amane slipped her hand in the pocket of her long coat and pulled out a small object. A silver cross, decorated with a fine sheet of some dark purple, glass-like material and five small amber gemstones; it had cost a good deal, but Hikari was worth it all and then some.
Smiling to herself, Amane slid the cross back into her pocket. For now, it would have to remain hidden. Only when the birthday came; then, she would present Hikari with the full range of presents and events she had planned. Anything for her fair-haired angel.
Amane's musings were cut short as a black, human-shaped figure suddenly jumped on the road in front of the car. She slammed on the breaks, but it would be too late; she made a desperate attempt to drive past the figure, but the asphalt under the wheels of their car suddenly seemed to have transformed into slick ice, for the car was completely out of control and slid wildly on the road. The figure made no attempt to move as the car slammed into it with it's left side, sending it flying. For an infinite moment, Amane saw the car sliding straight into the safety rail and wondered if it would hold.
It didn't.
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When Amane came to, it was bright outside; so unbearably bright for her eyes, making her head hurt even worse. The car was on it's front end, as she noticed after a short while, and she was hanging by the safety belt. After a moment, she looked to her right; there was no sign of Hikari, but the safety belt was opened, not snapped. Amane was sure that it had been fastened when Hikari slept.
Her right hand was hanging limply and try as she might, Amane could not get it to move in the slightest. She brought her knees up in front of herself and, after a stab of pain in her abdomen, rested them against the wheel, then reached with her left hand to unfasten her seat belt. Luckily, it was not jammed and she fell forward against the steering wheel as the belt snapped open. The sudden release was painful and her right hand fell against the dashboard with a loud, dull thud; Amane felt nothing.
The front and the side windows were smashed. Maneuvering with her one good hand, Amane managed to pull herself out of the side window, bloodying her hand against some glass shards in the process, and landed on the ground with a pained groan. She noted with some satisfaction, however, that the pain wasn't great or sharp, indicating that no ribs were broken.
With feeling returning to her right hand, she started moving it around to get it back into shape. Once done, she pulled out a single piece of glass from her left palm. The first aid kit had fallen through the front glass and Amane picked it up, looking around.
For some reason, it was snowing. She was hazy from the blow to her head, but she was pretty certain it had been only early september when they started. Were they high in the mountains? And where was Hikari?
Limping, Amane walked to the other side of the car. The tracks were still very clear; even the pattern of the boots was noticeable. As was the fact that the tracks were huge; one of the footprints looked about as big as Hikari's both feet put together. Hikari hadn't been wearing tank boots, either.
The blood trickling down her left hand caught Amane's attention and she opened the first aid kit, bandaging and sterilizing the wound the best she could. The bandage turned crimson almost immediately, but the wound did not seem very serious. There was no sign of Hikari's blood, but Amane was taking no chances. Fishing her backpack from inside the car, she stuffed the first aid kit inside it and started following the tracks.
The boot-wearer had trudged up the 5-metre slope and the footprints came fainter at the point where the now-scrapped car had smashed through the safety rail and torn up the soil. Slipping once and ruining her coat, Amane moved back on the road and looked around. The skid marks were still clear on the asphalt, but not much else was. The thick mist was severely limiting her vision, but the footprints were still seen. They seemed to move away from the scene.
Everything was dead silent and Amane was getting goosebumps. It was not from the cold, but from an uneasy feeling that she could not define. Common sense told her that if the footprints did not belong to Hikari, she should keep looking for her; call out her name and hope that she'll respond. But something held her back; a feeling that she could not place. A warning in her heart that this tank-booted somebody had taken Hikari and that calling out for her would only bring unwanted attention. A certain knowledge that SOMEONE had taken Hikari and that she, Amane, needed to get her blonde angel back, no matter the cost.
Still limping slightly, she started following the large footprints, deeper into the mists. She did not notice the sign that she left behind; an old, worn sign, weathered and battered by age and elements, but still clearly reading:
"Welcome to Silent Hill".