A/N: Okay, I know it's been a while, but I'm back. Of all the fics I've got on the go at the moment this is the one I most want to get finished because I've got it planned out in most detail, and now that I've finally got a study break coming up I might have more chance to work on it. This started out trying to loosely follow the plot and/or setting of the White Night custom story, but it's gone via Silent Hill, Cry of Fear, Outlast and various other things as I've continued to work on it. I think I just really want to write Sam into a survival horror game scenario, but I also think the reasons for that will become clear in the end, and in the meantime I'm hoping it's creepy.
Chapter Six - What The Dark Hides
Metal clanged in time with his footsteps as Sam bolted down the steel staircase, not stopping until he'd put at least three levels between himself and whatever monster was up above. The light was growing dimmer the lower he went, and as he reached the fourth platform in the stairwell Sam collapsed onto the floor, leaning against the wall and refusing to go any further. He'd just about had enough of whatever the hell this was, and still hoped it was a nightmare he'd be waking from soon.
Beside him, he heard Lucifer's voice berating him. "What are you doing, Sam?"
Breathing heavily, Sam glanced over to see the figure of the fallen angel silhouetted against the remaining light coming from the floor above, while beside him the rest of the staircase descended into pitch darkness.
"This...this doesn't make any sense," Sam muttered in reply. "I'm not doing this anymore, Lucifer. There's no way it's real. Stop toying with me."
When the reply came, it was stern, and more sincere sounding than Sam had expected. "That's not a tune you can afford to keep playing. However hard you may find it to believe, everything here is real enough to hurt you, and the only way out is onward. You need to get up and keep going."
Even though Sam wished he didn't have to believe it, he did. Fear was enough to persuade him to keep pressing forward in search of a way out, but that did nothing to ease the exhaustion that had settled on him like lead. "I'm tired," he protested, "Thanks to you keeping me from sleeping. I just need a moment." He shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, trying to claw back some small measure of energy from the brief break. Hell knew he'd be needing it later.
"Are you sure you have time for that, Sam?"
There wasn't chance for Sam to respond before a sound from somewhere below him jerked him back to full alertness. As if to illustrate Lucifer's point, a harsh, strangled sounding scream reverberated through the stairwell, and Sam immediately sprung to his feet, tensed and alert. He wanted to reach for a weapon, but having none, he balled his hands into fists in preparation for whatever may be coming his way. Several seconds passed without further event, but still on edge, Sam shot a question at the fallen angel beside him. "Alright, what was that?"
"Damned if I know."
"You are damned."
"I still don't know."
It may not have been visible in the darkness, but Sam shot him a glare that would have been enough to make all but the Devil wither. "Are you fucking trying to help me or not?"
"I'm the motivation you need to keep moving forward. That's the best kind of help you could ask for."
Sam bit his tongue, realising that the argument wasn't something worth worrying about right now. "And moving forward means down there?" he asked apprehensively, gazing into the darkness the stairs led down into.
"Yep."
"And there's something down there, but there's something up there too?"
"Yep." The answer was again blunt and unhelpful, but it confirmed Sam's suspicions that he had no good options left. Whether Lucifer knew more than he was letting on or not, whichever way Sam went spelled danger.
"Alright..." he muttered, feeling his stomach squirm uncomfortably as he tried to psych himself up to continue his journey downwards. There was no point going back now.
Lucifer decided to add another unhelpful remark. "Got your flashlight, Sammy?"
Sam gritted his teeth and didn't respond. He wasn't an idiot who needed to be told, and had already drawn the flashlight halfway out of his bag by the time the angel made the comment.
Apprehensively, he switched it on and shone it in the direction he was about to descend, feeling a sense of dread at the thought of what the beam might land on. Seeing at first only the black metal steps, Sam took a breath and began to journey further into whatever nightmare he'd gotten into.
There were three more levels of stairs separated by platforms before Sam reached what appeared to be the bottom. As he shone the light onto the floor he saw that it was made of steel mesh – not what he'd expect to see in a hospital, but he'd long since abandoned the notion that was where he was – and there was an empty dark space extending further below it. If it had a bottom, the flashlight beam wasn't powerful enough to illuminate that far.
Sam stepped off the final step onto the floor, feeling the change in the surface through his slippers but relieved that it at least seemed strong enough to support him. He didn't know if the hallucination of Lucifer was still hanging round, and he didn't care to. The vision usually proved to be more on an aggravation than a help, and whatever Sam was going to have to face, he knew he would be facing it alone.
Looking about him from the foot of the stairs, darkness extended in all directions. He raised the flashlight and cast it around quickly, hoping to see a wall or something that would indicate which way he should go, but there was nothing close enough for the light to reach. So it seemed it would just be point and guess then.
Sam decided to head straight on from the bottom of the stairs, figuring that would be the most logical direction for a corridor to be pointing in, if there had been one, and hoping it would lead him towards a door or another room of some sort. He walked on in silence for several minutes, casting the flashlight about him and desperately hoping that at some point it would land on something, but there was only the floor and darkness in all directions. Thinking he was going the wrong way, Sam turned round again and shone the light back in the direction he'd come, but the staircase was out of sight by now. If it was still there at all.
Trying to keep himself from panicking, Sam swallowed and took a few deep breaths. Hold it together. I've faced worse than this before.
…haven't I?
He was starting to wonder.
Hoping it might reveal something helpful, he pointed the flashlight upwards to look above him, but just saw that the ceiling was even more chainlink a couple of feet above his head. There didn't seem to be anything resting on it, and Sam hoped that was a good thing. In the absence of any better ideas, he continued onward.
He'd gone a few more paces, casting the light back and forth to scan the general "forwards" direction, when he heard a faint noise behind him: the soft, dull sound of footsteps falling on the mesh floor. Sam froze immediately. As he did so, the noise turned to silence.
Well, that's not disconcerting at all.
Turning slowly, and with a growing sense of dread, Sam brought up the flashlight to point behind him.
There was nothing there.
He swallowed, trying to moisten his dry mouth as he prepared to speak. "Lucifer," he began shakily, and aimed to sound more firm as he continued. "If you're still there, stop making this more difficult than it already is."
There was no response. As he contemplated that he'd never before heard the hallucination cast any footsteps, Sam thought he was grateful that nothing had replied. Whatever was back there, Sam doubted it was just an illusion, and he wasn't too keen to encounter whatever it was.
Several more seconds passed in silence, and as Sam realised that nothing was approaching him, he decided to press onwards. He turned around again and continued forwards, and just as he did so the footsteps started up again, sounding in time with his own. Sam didn't stop. If he couldn't see it and it wasn't getting any closer to him, then he could escape it.
He couldn't help but quicken his pace as he walked forward, and his pursuer followed in kind. Getting closer to the brink of panic, Sam broke into a run, desperate to just find a way out. The thing following him sped up too, and he could hear the noise getting closer, louder than it should have been on a floor that wasn't completely solid. Sam was almost certain that it would catch up with him now and he was readying himself to fight, however futile the effort may be, when suddenly the noise fell quiet.
That took him by surprise. He shouldn't have stopped, but he did, all the while his brain screaming at him to keep going while he had the chance, but his instincts told him to stay put. What had caused it to stop?
As he tried to regain control of his breathing, Sam again turned slowly around and cast the light back in the direction he came. Still, he saw nothing. Could the thing really just have vanished?
He shone the light back and forth a few times just to be sure, but still there appeared to be nothing emerging from the darkness. Sam had just about convinced himself to turn around keep going, but then the beam momentarily landed on something beneath the floor.
Instantly, Sam froze again, every muscle in his body tensing up. His heart was in his mouth as he tried to return the light to where he'd seen it: a vague shape underneath the mesh. Could it be the same kind of monster he'd almost run into upstairs? Or something else? Whatever it was, it didn't appear to be there now when the beam returned.
For a few more moments, Sam stood stock still, listening for some indication that there was still something there. The only noise he heard was the sound of his own breathing, seeming far too loud in the silence surrounding him.
Had he imagined it? Was he imagining all of this?
The thought that all this could still just be in his head was in no way reassuring. If there was a threat nearby, he needed to know where and what it was. Illusion or not, he had to know if he could fight it or if he had no choice but to run. Sam hated how pathetic the thought made him feel, but he knew the second option was most likely.
As the flashlight continued to reveal nothing in the emptiness extending below the floor, Sam considered his options. It would surely be best to just turn round and keep going. If there was something pursuing him, then it clearly wasn't taking advantage of the chance to attack now, but he still felt a deep unease about the whole situation. His sense of isolation and confusion was even worse now than the time he'd been abducted by Azazel and taken to an abandoned town in the middle of nowhere. At least that place had still seemed to obey the laws of physics.
Still staring at the floor, wondering if something besides Lucifer was toying with him, Sam's contemplation was interrupted as he felt a drop of cold moisture land on his head. It took a moment for him to process what it was, but then two more drops followed in quick succession. He blinked instinctively, but as his brain processed the sensation, he felt his gut churn as he barely needed to guess what it was. Steeling himself for whatever he was about to see, Sam turned the flashlight beam upwards as he tilted his neck to stare at the ceiling. There, resting on the chainlink above him, was a corpse - mutilated just like the one he'd found in the storeroom and dripping blood down slowly to land on his face.
Sam grimaced as he fought to stay calm, inching backwards to avoid the trickle of crimson fluid spilling down onto him. Okay, so there's monsters up there, killing people, and there's probably a monster below me, and I need to keep looking for a way out...
He was trying to formulate a plan, something coherent and purposeful just to reassure himself and keep his sanity in check, but then he felt a sudden rattling of the metal floor immediately below him. Sam yelped, jumping backwards and whipping the flashlight back down to point at the floor, knowing for sure now that something was there. The sight that met him was just as horrific as anything he could have imagined.
Right by his feet, a face leered up at him: skin pale and cracked with blood vessels clearly displayed near the surface, eyes pupilless and entirely white, its sharp, crooked teeth bared in a snarl. The most terrifying thing was that it was clearly human, yet a human for whom something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
It snapped its jaws at Sam, clawed yellow fingers reaching up towards him through the holes in the metal, and not wanting to even try to fight anymore Sam turned and ran. Whatever kind of nightmare this was, whatever kind of Hell… it was so far beyond anything he knew how to deal with. He needed Dean. Somehow he wished there was a way for his brother to help him, but Sam felt a very real increasing fear that Dean was just as in need of help as he was.
He'd only gone a few feet when he heard a vicious, grunting snarl behind him, and then without warning or explanation, the ground began to shake.
