A/N: We're approaching Halloween, so I decided to write at least one little spooky adventure thing for the season. Hope you guys enjoy it.

"I'm not fucking going in there."

Bray merely laughed at the statement. Dean narrowed his eyes, his face twisting into a scowl. He hadn't been joking. All he wanted to do was go home. They had been on the road for nearly two weeks straight. House shows there in the state, Raw and Smackdown, a trip overseas, back to the states for Raw and Smackdown - he was completely exhausted. He just wanted to go home and lay in bed for the few days they actually had off. But here they were instead, parked outside the gates of an old abandoned insane asylum. Bray had been babbling about it for a few weeks now, but it wasn't something Dean had been paying much mind to. He chalked the talk up to Bray's usual fascination with all things weird and creepy. But now they were actually here. The asshole had actually driven them here and he felt like killing him for it.

"I'm fucking serious Bray." Dean hoped that making his voice more authoritative would make a difference. "This is fucking stupid. We shouldn't go in there."

"I just want to take a little peek."

"For the love of god why?" Dean tried to jerk his hand out of the way as Bray grabbed for it, but the other man still managed to catch it. "How do you know it's even actually haunted? Places like this always get a reputation like that. It could just be fucking empty and we're wasting our time even being here."

"We're not," Bray insisted.

"How do you know?"

"I feel them." Bray glanced out the window before looking at Dean again. "I hear them. They're whispering to me." His eyes started to gleam with an overzealous look that told Dean that he wasn't going to win this argument. "Can you hear them little lamb?"

No. Dean couldn't hear any of that kind of shit. But he could definitely feel that something was off the longer they sat there. The cold feeling of dread settled in his chest and stomach, twisting his insides until he felt like he couldn't breathe. Staying here was a bad idea. He opened his mouth to say that, but Bray was already getting out of the car before a single sound escaped him. "Bray!" He shook his head, not wanting to get out of the car at all. "Bray get the fuck back in here!" He hated how shaky his voice was getting. He didn't like feeling scared. "Bray I'm not fucking joking!"

Bray didn't pay him any mind. He was busy walking around to the other side of the car, to open the trunk. Dean turned himself around in his seat, but he couldn't see what it was Bray was pulling out of there. "God damn it!" He opened his door and got out now. "Bray seriously!" He closed his door in time to see Bray closing the trunk with one hand and holding his lantern with the other. "Come on. Fucking get in the car."

"You can stay out here if you want darlin. I won't be long."

Dean groaned as Bray started walking towards the gate. His brain told him to just stay put. He didn't need to be going in there. If Bray wanted to be stupid enough to do it then that was his problem. But as he watched Bray push open the gate, he found it harder to stand still. As much as he hated the thought of going in there, he found himself liking the thought of Bray going in there alone even less. "God fucking damn it," he growled under his breath. He found himself moving now, the twisting in his stomach getting worse with every step he took. "Bray! Bray wait up!"

The Angel's Crest Asylum had been the main home to the city's criminally insane back in the '50s and '60s. Accusations of the doctors mistreating the inmates had run rampant at the time, but nobody had cared. They were society's monsters they had said. If the doctors wanted to experiment on them then they could go right ahead. But two decades of abuse had ended in a bloodbath after the inmates had attacked and slaughtered the doctors and nurses. The place had been shut down afterwards, the inmates that weren't shot by the police all shipped off to different high security locations. There had been several attempts in the '80s and '90s to restore the place, but multiple mishaps with what was said to be ghosts trapped inside the building had put an end to those plans. Now it just stood there, looming over the city it stood on the edges of.

Abigail had been the one who had told Bray of this place. He had always had a fascination with the dead and where they lingered, and one night, while the two of them had been taking one of their many walks by the river, she had told him this story. Her uncle had been one of the inmates. He had been taken away for when she had been young, accused of torturing and killing other young girls. They hadn't really discussed whether he had really done it or not. That hadn't been important to him. The story was what had mattered. He had absorbed every bit of it, wanting to find a way to one day make it here.

"I fucking hate you right now," Dean growled. He was walking behind Bray, gripping his hand tightly as they went.

Bray found it hard to not roll his eyes. Dean could yell that all he wanted, but they both knew the real truth. Dean had chosen not to stay in the car like Bray had offered. Dean had chosen to come with him. The hate he tried to claim to feel didn't even remotely exist. Bray thought about pointing that out, but kept his mouth shut instead. Dean was scared. He was trying so hard to hide it, but Bray heard it in his voice. He could feel it in how tightly he held his hand. Every instinct was clearly screaming at him to run, but here he was, following Bray instead. That kind of love and loyalty would have to be rewarded later.

It wasn't hard to get inside the building. The lock had long been broken by others who had broken in. He pushed the door open and led them inside. The door shut behind them, Dean jumping at how loud the sound was. The lantern in Bray's hand was bright, but even as it guided their path, it seemed to make the shadows around them loom that much more ominously.

"This is so fucking stupid." Dean's voice was barely more than a whisper. Bray had to wonder if he was even talking to him or himself. "We're going to fucking die in here."

"We're not going to die little lamb."

"How the fuck do you know?"

Bray didn't answer that one, getting too interested in looking around. The hallway they were in didn't seem to have an end. There were a few doors on either side of them with windows that let him see inside them once he stopped and held the lantern up higher. One was a plain room with a desk a receptionists desk and a few chairs in it. Another was a rec room of sorts, filled with knocked over chairs and a broken TV nobody bothered to clean up in all the aftermath of the inmate uprising. The rest were offices, which proved to be slightly more interesting. Even from where he was at, he could see blood smeared on the walls. Wet looking blood. Fresh. He raised his eyebrows, lips quirking into a bit of a grin. They weren't alone. The whispers and feeling like there was something in there with them hadn't been imagined.

"We're not going to die huh?" Dean's grip on his hand grew even tighter. If Bray's pain tolerance had been any bit less than what it was, he would have had to make Dean let go. "Are you still fucking sure about that?"

"I don't intend for us to die tonight darlin." Bray moved them away from the window and got them moving forward once again. The whispers were growing louder now. Bray couldn't make out exactly what they were saying. They blended too much together for that. He chanced a look at Dean, who was now clinging to his arm rather than just his hand. He could hear them too now. Bray could tell by his eyes. "They used to do experiments down in the basement."

Dean glared at him. "How the fuck do you even know this shit?"

"She told me."

"Before or after she died?" It spoke to how well Dean knew him that he didn't even have to ask who he was talking about.

"Before." Bray tried to move his arm so he could put it around Dean's shoulder, but the dirty blond wasn't letting go of him for anything. "Her uncle was put here. They said he murdered a bunch of little girls and locked him up."

"...Alright, we can stop that story right fucking there." Dean shook his head, trying to settle on just looking irritated while pushing back his ever growing fear. "I don't want to fucking know more."

"You sure? Because he told her a lot of stories about this place before the feds shot him in the head."

"Just fucking focus on not fucking killing us you fucking bag of dicks." Dean didn't sound nearly as tough as he clearly wanted to. "Because I swear on fucking Abigail's fucking grave, if we fucking die, I'm roasting your ass open an open fire once we get to hell."

Bray laughed, and the narrowing of blue eyes told him that he was going to get punched in the mouth extra hard the next time they were put in a match together.

They were being watched. Dean was certain of that. He couldn't see them; beyond a glimpse of a nurse with an eyeball hanging out of one of her sockets he was seeing jack shit in the way of ghosts. But he could fucking feel them lurking in the shadows, watching as Bray dragged him deeper into the asylum. Seeing the one for a half a second wasn't enough. Just knowing there were more wasn't. No, Bray had to fucking take this further, just like he did everything else. It was absolutely infuriating. If Dean hadn't felt like he was right on the edge of a panic attack he would have hauled off and punched him right in the face.

Bray led them to a stairwell, finally seeming to be on the cusp of finding the torture chamber basement he was so curious about. The feeling of dread Dean had was growing stronger. He wanted to run. He wanted to drag Bray the hell out of there before some really fucked up shit actually happened. But his feet didn't obey his desire. They didn't even keep moving forward to follow Bray. They became rooted to the spot, his head shaking as Bray looked back at him.

"Little lamb -"

The rest of what Bray was about to say was lost as Dean felt something push against his back. It was cold; it was so cold it felt like his entire body had been dunked in a tub of ice. And it was frightfully solid as it practically slammed itself into Dean's back. He tried to catch himself, but he was falling, tumbling down the stairs and taking Bray with him. The lantern slipped from Bray's hand, the light being snuffed out by the impact. They fell the rest of the way in darkness, Dean yelping and Bray cursing until he went eerily silent. Dean groaned as he tumbled over Bray's body and hit the floor with a thud. He laid there in a daze, his fear forgotten about as he laid there in a daze. "Bray?"

No answer. Dean managed to sit up and turn to look at where Bray was laying. He wasn't moving. He didn't even respond to the sound of Dean's voice. "Bray!" He made himself move, his eyes adjusting to the darkness enough to just enough to let him start to see. He put his fingers to Bray's neck, breathing out a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse. He wasn't dead. Just knocked out. "Fuck fuck fuck!" He tried to pull Bray up to his feet. They had to get out of there. Now.

Something cold hit him again, making him lose his grip on Bray and fall back. He hit the floor again, the air being driven right out of his lungs. This time there was no time to recover. He had barely sat up when he found himself surrounded. Large, wild eyed figures drenched in blood stared down at him. "SHIT!" He scrambled back, pushing himself with his hands and feet because his legs didn't feel strong enough to stand. They were all staring at him, their hands reaching out to grab him. "No!" He scrambled back faster, his heart nearly stopping as he bumped into the wall. There was nowhere left to go.

They grabbed him all at once, their grips all too solid. He thrashed and kicked, his feet and fists connecting with nothing at all. It didn't make sense. How could they touch him but he couldn't hit them back? Were ghosts supposed to be able to touch shit? Or were they even ghosts at all? Were they something else entirely? These questions flew out of his head almost as soon as he started thinking them. It really didn't matter what they were. What mattered was that they were dragging him away. They were showing no interest in Bray while taking him who the fuck knew where. "Bray!" He struggled harder to get free. "BRAY!"

"Dean..." That was the first word out of Bray's mouth when he started coming to. He could hear the other man screaming for him, but it sounded so far away. "Dean." He rarely ever said his name. It was always "little lamb" or "darlin". But he said his name now, the foreign feeling of panic starting to rise up in him as became more conscious. He couldn't see Dean. He could hear him screaming still, cries to let him go mixing in with Bray's name. "Dean!" He pushed himself up to his feet, ignoring the pounding in his head. He couldn't care about that. He had to find Dean. That was what mattered.

A hand wrapped around his throat as he reached for the lantern and slammed him up against the wall. A hulking figure held him there, its eyes crazed and mouth foaming. Calling it a ghost wasn't right. It was something worse. Something that had been festering and building with rage the longer it had stayed trapped here.

Bray had started to try to fight his way free when he noticed the smoke coming from the lamp. His body went still, a smile crossing his face even as he was being tossed across the hallway. He hit the ground hard, a laugh escaping him instead of a grunt. The smoke was moving faster, surrounding the spirit as it moved to attack him again. The lantern had never just been that, but the world at large had only seen that truth once before: the night he had attacked Dean in the cell. They had all thought it had just been some sort of smoke and mirrors trick, including Dean. They had thought he had rigged some hologram, mistaking him for someone who knew how to do such a thing. What they had seen that night hadn't been some Hollywood inspired trick. It had been an echo. It had been her echo, just like it was now. She stood between him and the monster, flickering before engulfing everything in a blinding white light. Bray closed his eyes and put his hand up, shielding himself from the worst of it. He stayed that way for a few moments before daring to take a peek. She and the other were both gone, leaving the once again brightly glowing lantern behind.

Bray pushed himself up to his feet and retrieved the lantern. The hand not holding it went up to rub his throat. The relief he felt lasted just a few seconds. He had to find Dean and get him out of there. If anything happened to him...

No. He wasn't even going to think of that. Nothing was going to happen to Dean. He wouldn't allow it.

Dean didn't really know where he was. Somewhere in the basement was the obvious answer, but given that this place was some sort of labyrinth, that wasn't actually saying anything. What he knew for sure was that he was completely fucked. He was strapped down to a table, his wrists and ankles secured by restraints he couldn't really see. He couldn't even see the things that had brought him here. The ghosts or spirits or whatever the fuck these fucking assholes were had strapped him down and then disappeared from his sight. He could still feel them though. They were all around him, making his skin crawl and his heart pound. He wanted to scream for Bray, but the sound wasn't making it past his mouth. Was there even a point? He didn't even know if Bray would hear him. And even if he did, there was no guarantee that he would even be able to do anything.

The figures suddenly came back into his line of sight, all of them looming over him ominously. He squirmed more against his restraints, trying somehow to break out of them. Get free. He had to get free. Bray's words about experiments being done in the basement were in his head again. These fuckers didn't look like they had done the experimenting in life, but Dean had a bad feeling that was a fact that had drastically changed in death.

He felt the teeth of the saw pressing against his throat before he even realized the weapon had been placed there. He did scream now, his arms and legs pulling desperately against the restraints. Something was being said; another whisper like the ones Bray had babbled on about before. Dean didn't know what was being said. He didn't give a shit. He had to get free. Had to get out before the blade started to move. It was already digging into his skin, drawing out little drops of blood...


Bray's yell drew the figures away from Dean. The saw went with them, but Dean didn't feel much relief. Instead he kept struggling, still needing to get free. He tried to sit himself up as he did it, needing to see what was happening with Bray. He saw him standing there, holding the relit lantern in front of him like a weapon. It struck Dean as a ridiculous idea until he saw the smoke pouring from it. "What the fuck?" His struggles ceased as he just watched. "What -"

From the smoke emerged a female figure, flickering in and out of Dean's focus. "What the -" The rest of the question died on Dean's lips as a blinding white light filled the room. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, shivering as inhuman shrieking filled his ears. He didn't know it it was them or her; maybe it was even him. What he did know was that by the time everything was silent once more, his ears were ringing and his body was shaking.

"Easy little lamb." These were Bray's words, but now they were said by her, her phantom lips pressing against his cheek. "Such a good little lamb."

His eyes snapped open, but she was gone. There was only Bray, who was trying to get him untied. "Just take it easy darlin." The larger man leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I got you."

"I hate you so fucking much," Dean snarled. He knew Bray wouldn't believe him (as he shouldn't), but he was so beyond angry that he had to snap. "You and your stupid haunted asylum -"

Bray obviously fought the urge to roll his eyes. "It's not my -"

"- and your god damn haunted lantern -"

"I don't think haunted is the right term."

"It's MY term mother fucker." The instant his arms and legs were free Dean rolled off the table, nearly falling over because he was still so shaky. Bray caught him, holidng him upright until he snarled again and snatched the lantern for himself. "We're fucking leaving."

Bray's lips twitched. "I wasn't planning anything else darlin."

"And I'm gonna kill any more ghosts we see with this thing while you just think about how much sex we're never having again.

Bray did laugh now and Dean almost really did punch him. "Never little lamb?"

"Never fucking ever." Dean started to storm off, very aware of how close on his heels Bray was.

"You know you're not going to be able to keep that promise little lamb."

Dean was far too aware of that, especially considering how Bray's hand was already in his and he wasn't trying to pull away. But he growled all the same, now willing to admit anything resembling defeat yet. "I'm fucking staying in the car next time," he declared. "Any more spooky bullshit you can just forget about dragging me into it."

Bray took it upon himself to not remind Dean that he had said he could stay in the car in the first place. This wasn't the time that would go over very well. Instead he kissed the top of Dean's hand, humoring him on this one.