Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by the CW and I'm not sure who owns Hellraiser atm, but it isn't me.

Sam Winchester shot up in bed covered in a cold sweat. The nightmare seemed so vivid, so real, the he could almost feel the rusty hooks on his skin. Absentmindedly he groped for the lamp on the bedside table of the rundown hotel he and Dean had been staying at. The soft flick and flood of light soothed him until his brother started cursing.

"Damn it San," Dean groaned rolling over away from the light, "what did you do have another nightmare?"

"Yeah Dean," Sam said, his voice shaky and he noticed so were his limbs, "I did. I think Bobby is dead."

Now Dean paid attention, sitting bolt upright and facing his brother. "Start talking."

"I had a dream like my old visions. Bobby was opening a box like one I saw in Dad's journals. Then these metal hooks shot into his skin and these demons showed up."

"Ripped him apart? C'mon Sam that's crazy. Call Bobby in the morning, I'm sure he's fine."

"Dean," Sam began but his brother cut him off.

"You said he opened the box right? Bobby would never be that stupid now get some sleep already."

"I guess you're right," Sam settled back a little uneasily. He wasn't sure Dean was right, but then again his brother had not seen what he had. Sam waited until the obnoxious sound of Dean's snoring filled the room once more, which in reality was less than two minutes, to climb out of his bed. He pulled his father's journal from his bag and stepped almost silently outside.

The pages ruffled in the cold wing that was blowing. Late October had settled in, bringing what felt like an early winter with it. Sam shivered, and silently wished he had put on his coat. He became wary of a pair of eyes on him and looked up to see a woman. She had dark curly hair and was standing in a silk nightgown smoking a cigarette off the balcony.

"Couldn't sleep either?" he joked if only because he was uneasy being watched. Being a hunter had taught him that much.

"Bad dreams," the woman replied glancing up and down over Sam's large form.

"I know the feeling," Sam sighed, his eyes falling back on the book. "A bit cold out here isn't it?"

"I couldn't smoke in the room," she replied nonchalantly, "good book?"

"My dad's journal," Sam chuckled. If nothing else the woman was a nice reprieve from the nightmare. Something about her character seemed familiar.

"Swipe it when dad fell asleep then?"

"No he died a few years ago. I'm here with my brother."

"Sorry to hear. My dad was killed about 11 years ago. I've been moving around ever since."

That sentiment passed with a slow exhale of cigarette smoke sealed it. She was like Dean and Sam. She was not so much on the run, but instead had no place to go. Sam was about to reply when he found the page he was looking for. The drawing his dad had made of the box was almost exact to the image in his dream.

"The Lament Configuration," Sam muttered aloud. The woman stiffened, dropping her cigarette off of the balcony in the process.

"What did you say?" She growled her question, seeming both angry and afraid at the same time.

"Oh nothing, just something in my dad's…" Sam began but her hands were on his collar holding him tight.

"You better start talking," her eyes blazed with some unknown fury.

"Who are you?" Sam said calmly, grabbing both her wrists and pulling himself out of her grip.

"My name is Kirsty Cotton, and the Lament Configuration ruined my life."