"Dean, where the hell are we?" You whispered in the pitch black room, reaching your arm out, hoping he was there with you.

"Y/N?" He called out, suddenly grasping your hand before turning on his flashlight that he always left in his coat pocket. Pulling you tight to him, he swung the flashlight around, both of you realizing at the same time that you were in some sort of bedroom. A tall wooden bed was right behind you, the covers full of dust. Heavy furniture filled the room, with two windows on the far side.

While Dean went to tug on the door, you went to the windows, attempting to pull them open. You could easily see the grime on the windows, and no matter how hard you tugged, the windows refused to open.

"Any luck with the door?" You called out, turning to see Dean trying to kick the door down.

"Nope," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "This door has to solid oak, it's not coming down."

"Where's Sam?" You asked. "I wonder if he came too, or if they left him back at the bunker."

"Sam!" Dean yelled, banging through the door. "Sammy, you here?"

Sam's voice echoed through, but not through the door as expected. It came from the wall next to you, very faint. "Dean? Y/N?"

"Damn it, we need to get out of here," Dean muttered, slamming his hand on the door again, right before it opened. A little kid stood there, no more than eight, his clothes hanging off his thin frame.

Standing there, he stared at you, his eyes wide with fright. "Who...who are you?" He stuttered. "And how did you get locked in my Grandma's house?"

You could see how scared the boy was, and you took pity on him. "This is your grandparents house?"

"Just my Grandma," he answered, watching you warily. "My grandpa's dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Can you help us get out of here?" You asked him, and he nodded.

Dean squeezed your shoulder, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. "Y/N, I think this is another of those hunts from the book. Maybe we shouldn't try to leave until it's taken care of."

"Dean, I don't care about that stupid book. I'm just afraid the longer it goes on, the more of a chance that someone is going to end up dead. Hell, I died!"

"You...you died?" The boy stuttered, his face pale.

"Listen, I don't mean to scare you, but have you seen something weird here lately?" You questioned.

"What book are you t...t...talking about?" He asked, his entire body shaking.

"I'm not sure. But it keeps throwing us in situations, much like this one. Last time we faced snakes in a freaking pond!" Dean exclaimed, and the boys eyes grew even wider if that was possible.

"That can't be true," he whispered.

"Listen, what's your name?" Dean asked him.

"Tyler."

"Tyler, my brother's in the next room. Can you get him out and we'll figure something out," Dean pleaded. Nodding, the kid vanished from sight, as you turned to Dean.

"Doesn't it seem like he knows something?" You whispered to Dean, who just shrugged.

"Zach, why did you start without Tyler?" Sophia asked, as they sat on his bed. Without Tyler there they had skipped the tent, staying inside while it rained. Zach's room was bathed in darkness, except for the small light on his bedside table.

Sophia hadn't wanted to read the book. In truth, she had hid it, hoping that Zach would forget all about it. But he had easily found it, waking you up in the middle of the night to read the next story.

"Tyler isn't able to come," Zach chuckled. "I think he's a little preoccupied."

"Zach, you're scaring me. I think you need to give up this book."

"NO!" He screamed, his face full of rage. "We need to finish it. Even with Tyler gone."

"Zach, is the Tyler in the story our Tyler?" Sophia asked, not even sure that would be possible.

"Just shut up and listen to the story," was his answer, as he turned it the next page.

Once you had gotten together with Sam, you tried to garnish more information from the kid. With Sam and Dean muttering to themselves, you crouched down next to Tyler. "Tyler, we're gonna need your help. What do you know about a book?"

"My friend's reading a book. A scary book, with heroes that have your name," he whispered, glancing around like something could attack him at any moment.

"Where is your friend?" You asked him.

As he opened his mouth to answer, a loud bang could be heard from downstairs. Tyler jumped, clearly shaking with fear. "Don't worry, we're hunters. We'll keep you safe."

"I need to go," he insisted. "It could be my grandma."

Without another word, he raced down the darkened hallway, down the stairs, leaving the three of you watching in shock. "Should we go after him?" You asked.

"I'm really hating this stupid book and it's hunts," Dean grumbled. With Dean leading the way, the three of you made your way down the hallway. Your foot was on the top step when a blood curdling scream came from downstairs.

Without even thinking, the three of you continued to race down the stairs, almost tripping in the darkness. Dean shined his flashlight around, seeing a library and a dining room in front, and a living room off to the side. "Sam, you got your flashlight?" Dean asked. "Good, you take the living room, Y/N and I will take the library."

Staying beside Dean, you stepped into the library, amazed at the books lining the shelves. "Dean, do you think the book we're looking for is in here?" You asked, split. You wanted the book to be here, but you also didn't want to have to search through each and every book.

"I seriously have no clue anymore," he grumbled. Letting him go off to the left, you took the right, where the fireplace was located. Your mind on the books, you let out a little squeal when you came faced to face with a grizzly looking small black dog. Stuffed, it was placed in honor on the mantel, it's plaque reading Scruffy.

"Man, that's creepy," you muttered, just as Dean let out a sigh.

"Y/N, I found him," Dean said, his voice tired. You knew then, that it wouldn't be good. Rounding the couch, you saw the boy laying lifeless. His eyes were wide with fright, his mouth twisted in fear, a bite mark on the side of his neck.

"What did that to him?" You asked, your heart breaking for the young man.

"I've never seen a bite like that before," Dean answered as Sam came back into the room.

"Dean, I didn't see him, but I did see that the door was locked," Sam said before seeing the look of sadness upon your face. "Is he?"

"Yep, he's dead," Dean answered, just as a creaking sound came from the back room.

"Y/N, why don't you stay here, Sam and I will check it out."

Being left alone, you stared with sadness at the boy before turning back to the room itself. Quickly searching through the books opened on the coffee table, you turned back to the mantel. A book was open beside the clock, with the same type of paper as you had seen at your previous hunts. Turning the pages, you frowned when you saw it was a simple recipe book, nothing fancy.

Turning your attention back to the creepy looking dog, you narrowed your eyes and glanced closer. The dog's facial expression was the same, but you saw a line of blood dripping down it's jaw. It's teeth were red, and you could just see a piece of flesh in between. "Sam, Dean, I might have found something!" You called out.

Dean's voice echoed through the house, and you had to wonder if the boy had made up it's Grandmother. With your attention distracted, you froze at the low growl coming from the mantle behind you. Reaching for your pocket, you cursed yourself when you realized your knife was laying on your nightstand.

Turning slowly, your heart rate picked up when you saw a pair of glassy eyes following you. Taking a step back towards the door, you screamed when it's lips snarled before jumping off and coming after you.

Racing towards the door, you saw them slam shut, just as the dog grabbed a hold of your ankle, knocking you to the door. "Dean!" You screamed, reaching and grabbing a book from the coffee table as the stuffed dog pulled you back towards the fireplace.

"Y/N, what is it?" Dean yelled, banging on the door.

"Help! The dog came alive!" You screamed, swinging the book and smacking the dog in the head. Scrambling to your feet, you quickly limped to the door, throwing it open just as the dog lept again, latching itself onto Sam's arm.

"What the hell? Wasn't it stuffed just a minute ago?" Dean muttered, pulling out his gun. "Sam, hold it still!"

Cursing, Sam flung the dog from his arm, blood dripping to the floor below. Growling, the dog crouched down, staring at the three of you before Dean pulled the trigger, shooting the dog between the eyes. Stuffing went everywhere, the dog falling limply to the ground.

"You guys okay?" He asked, quickly taking stock.

"Yeah," you both answered. "But that thing was so creepy."

"I think we still salt and burn it to be safe," Dean insisted, just as a banging came from inside the closet. Moving over, you opened the door, an older woman falling into your arms.

"Did you stop him? Did you stop Scruffy?" She pleaded with you.

"Yeah, he's nothing but a pile of fluff," Dean grumbled, taking a trash can and scooping the stuffing into it.

"Where's my Grandson? Where's Tyler?" She asked.

"Ma'am, it was too late," you started to say, and she collapsed into Sam's arms, crying.

"No, not my poor boy. I shouldn't have had him come, but I missed my boy."

"Ma'am, do you know of a book he would have been reading?" You asked her, but she was too busy crying, and ignored your question.

After the remains of the dog were nothing more than a pile of ash, you called the cops, leaving the old house behind.

"Well, that sucks. We had our biggest clue, and he's gone," You sighed.

"But he gave us some big hints," Sam argued. "We know his name was Tyler, and he probably was reading it with some friends. We need to find those friends, and we find the book."

"I sure hope so. Because I have a feeling the next hunt could be the last one for one of us," you spoke softly, your intuition scaring you.