Deep in thought, Sam walked up the two flights of stairs until he reached the third floor. What had the old woman meant? She had looked so worried, so upset…over what? A room? "Strange lady." he muttered to himself as he started walking down the hall looking at the room numbers. He stopped when he found the one he was looking for. Room 37. The wood on the door was very old and chipping away, and the room number, once written in gold paint, was barely discernable. Sam looked around at the other doors, all newly stained and in prime condition, their numbers engraved on metal plates that were all nailed neatly in the center of each door. "O-kay then…this is strange." Sam said. He hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged and shoved the antique key into the lock. It turned easily, and he heard a faint click as the door unlocked. Pocketing the key, Sam opened the door and looked into the room.

It was pitch black. He blindly reached along the wall to the left of the door until he found what he was looking for. Sam flicked the switch and a crystal ceiling light in the center of the room turned on and illuminated the room. To his right there was a wooden rocking chair with a faded red cushion and a large antique dresser made of cherry wood. On the other side of the room was a king sized bed covered with a floral bedspread and fluffy pillows, with an elegant canopy overhead. The ceiling reached a height several feet above Sam's head, and the walls, covered in a pleasant paper of little pink roses, were covered with old fashioned paintings. There were two closed doors next to the dresser that Sam assumed were probably a closet and a bathroom.

Sam shut the door behind him and walked into the middle of the room and then over to the dresser. It was covered with old fashioned jewelry, hairclips, and an ivory hairbrush. He ran his finger along the wood's surface and found that it was covered with an inch of dust. This was just too weird…it was as though someone had personally lived in this room many years ago and no one had used it since. He glanced at his soaking wet appearance in the mirror above the dresser and decided to take a nice long shower before Dean came up and used all the hot water.

Meanwhile, Dean had finished paying Mrs. Winters and was on the third floor. He walked slowly down the hall until he reached room 37. Dean tried the doorknob and found it locked, so he knocked softly on the door. "Open up Sam." he said, and then waited. Nothing happened, so he knocked a little louder. "Sam? You in there? Come on man, open the door." Still nothing. "Sam. Seriously. I'm wet and I'm tired and you so don't want to piss me off right now." he listened for any sound to let him know Sam was going to open the door, but the Inn was totally silent. Dean shook his head in exasperation and then shut his eyes and ran a hand over his face. After a few moments he opened his eyes and looked back at the door. "Sam—" he stopped, and his eyes widened in shock.

The door was gone.

Dean froze, startled, and took a giant step back from the wall where the door had just been. "What the hell?!" he said loudly in disbelief. He looked to his left and saw Room 36, and on his right was Room 38.

Room 37 was gone without a trace. Dean stood there for a moment and then reached forward to touch the place on the wall where the door had been. The wall was smooth and covered with the same floral wallpaper that covered the entire hall. It was as though room 37 had never existed. "What the hell!" Dean said again, at a loss for words. Suddenly, he realized something. His brother had been in that room. If the room was gone, where was Sam?

Trying not to panic, Dean got out his cell phone and called Sam's number. He heard the dial tone once, and then there was a beep and a woman's recorded voice said, "I'm sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please hang up and try again later." Dean ended the call and tried again, with the same result. "Damn it!"

His panic growing, Dean looked once more at the wall where the door had been and then turned and walked swiftly back down the stairs to the front desk. Mrs. Winters was still sitting there doing some kind of paper work. She looked up as he approached. "Is anything the matter, young man?"

Dean stared at her. "The room." he said simply. "Is gone."

The old woman froze. "What?" she said, her eyes wide.

"Room 37. It's gone. I was standing there in front of the door, and it just disappeared!" Dean said loudly.

Mrs. Winters started shaking. "Oh no…oh God no." she whispered, frightened.

Dean blinked. "Wait…you believe me? You believe that the door disappeared?"

She didn't seem to hear him. "No…no, please no, not again…" she whispered, staring straight ahead at nothing.

"Not again?" Dean said quickly. "What do you mean not again?! Has this happened before?!" the woman stared at him for a moment, and then started crying. "Listen, lady, tell me what's going on here because my little brother was in that room and I need to know what to do!"

The old lady looked at him. "I'm sorry." she said amidst sobs, "I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have let your brother go into that room, not after everything that's happened! But it was so long ago, so many years and I just wanted to forget about it! I just wanted to forget!"

"Forget what? What the hell happened in that room?!" Dean demanded loudly.

"Things." the woman muttered. "Terrible things…" she looked him in the eye. "That room…that room is evil!"