Hi everyone!

So, not only is this my first time writing for this fandom (despite having watched eight seasons within two weeks, and not showing any signs of stopping just yet until I've caught up), but it's also the first proper crossover I've written, so sorry in advance if this turns out to be completely rubbish. This isn't proof-read, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so I had to write it, and then I just wanted to post it, because, y'know, why not? Sorry for anyone being out of character - I'm trying my best, so please review so I know what you think!

Also - I may have changed a few things about Outlast just to suit the story. Sorry!

It wasn't long after midnight when they finally found a motel. Signs of neglect were clear to see from the flickering neon sign hanging onto a pole by one corner, and the crumbling brickwork to the left of the building. Even the carpark was filled with loose leaves and other such debris that no one had been bothered to clear up,and Dean made special care to park the Impala in the clearest space.

The last case had involved not just one vengeful spirit, but three of them, all haunting the same town, and hunting down one family, with each kid disappearing and ending up dead in the back alleys, with the same mysterious marks that were normally unheard of with such a job. After a supposedly simple salt-n-burn, Sam had found himself face-to-face wth one seriously pissed off spirit which they had supposedly just sent back to god only knew where, so after shooting the ghost full of a crap-load of rock salt it had been back to the motel, and back to the laptop. Or, in Dean's case, back to the local bar, because goddam it, that bartender with the blonde hair and long legs was hot, and no way was he giving up on a night like that - vengeful spirits or not. Needless to say, after yet another extra day in the town, the pair of them were both exhausted - Sam due to staying up all night researching the suckers they were hunting, and Dean because being thrown against a wall was not such a great thing to experience, especially when the ghosts just had to get up all close and personal like that.

The bored looking man on the reception desk didn't get up from lounging in a desk chair, picking at a loose thread on the corner of his shirt before motioning to a key in front of him. "Whatever. Just pay when you leave. I don't give a shit." He paused, rubbing his chin before reaching for the half empty beer bottle next to him. "Not my motel anyway."

Dean didn't comment, instead too glad to get a room after hours of non-stop driving - not that the Impala wasn't a pleasure to drive, but jeez, some people really pissed him off with their headlights on full-beam that late at night, and Sam was too busy trying to stay awake to mention the almost too-casual attitude of the man, instead limping after his brother and leaning against the dimly lit corridor wall while Dean fiddled with key, letting out several curses that could probably even make a sailor blush.

With the door finally open, Sam made a bee-line for the bed, flopping down on his front and yawning before glaring at Dean. "Turn the light off."

"Turn it off yourself, bitch." Dean replied, struggling to escape from his jacket without causing further pain to his bruised ribs. "I'm injured."

Sam made a pitiful whine into the pillow, before burying his face in the covers and trying to block out the unnecessarily bright spotlights. The room was plunged into darkness as Dean realised his younger brother genuinely wasn't shifting. Making some sort of mumbled sound of gratitude, Sam finally let himself sleep...

...Only to be woken up around four hours later. Which after a hunt that had lasted as long as the last one had, was just plain cruel. And unfair. And for crying out loud, how was Dean still asleep? Stretched out so that he took up the entire space of the bed, Dean was whispering in his sleep again, which was something Sam had gotten used to after the years.

Reaching for his laptop, Sam gave into the fact that he was almost certainly not going to get any more sleep until that evening, so brought up the latest headlines for local online newspaper. The internet connection was cringe-worthily slow, and he had to resist the urge not to start cursing it aloud. Given how hard Dean had crashed into the wall, Sam figured his brother could do with the sleep. Glancing up at the ceiling, he noted the peeling wallpaper, and cobwebs clinging to the ceiling fan, because obviously there had to be the traditional signs of decay such as cold. Honestly, he could't remember the last time they'd stayed somewhere that had lights that all worked, and didn't seem like something out of an underpaid hollywood movie.

Flicking his gaze back down to the laptop screen in front of him, Sam slowly scrolled down the webpage. Some school shut down, a weird festival cancelled due to weather, something else about an animal rescue centre, boring, boring, boring, not important, unnecessary, and - Ah ha. Hey there. Maybe he'd actually found something.

Reporter joins the ranks of the many who are still missing after entering 'haunted' asylum.

After first entering the supposedly haunted asylum, known as Mount Massive, five days ago, Reporter Miles Upshur, disappeared, and hasn't been seen since. According to relatives, he first took on the case after receiving information from an anonymous source, and started his investigation by entering the place late at night on -

"Hey Sammy," Dean greeted him from behind suddenly, and Sam literally jumped out of his chair, spinning around and narrowly avoiding falling flat on the floor as Dean watched him in amusement from the bed.

Sam pointed a finger at him. "Not a word."

Dean held up both hands in a peace-making gesture. "Didn't say anything." He protested, a smirk drifting onto his face as he swung round off the bed, clamping one hand to his side as a painful twinge shot up his ribs from the colourful bruises decorating there. Damn walls. Damn vengeful spirits. Reaching for a beer, despite the early hour, he made his way across the floorboards before attempting to see the computer screen over his brother's shoulders. "You got something?"

"Yeah." Sam ran a hand through his tangled hair, still neglecting to brush it since he'd woken up. "Check this out." He tilted the laptop round slightly so Dean could see the newspaper article as well. "Reporter goes missing, and he isn't the first. The place is well known for being haunted as well."

Dean kicked out a chair with one foot, sinking down into it and propping his feet up on the table, ignoring Sam's look of annoyance. "Go on."

"Uh, right, just doing a search for it." Sam frowned, before leaning back at examining the new found information. "Well we definitely have a case here from the sounds of things. Mount Massive Asylum was originally used for studying," he lifted his hands for finger quotes, "the Criminally Insane." Dean snorted on his beer, and spent a couple of moments trying to recover his composure. "Three scientists were murdered by an unknown patient. It was closed before being reopened by a Murkoff Corporation, which spent the next few years performing illegal experiments on the patients there, but that's pretty much it."

Dean sat up from his slouched position in the wooden chair. "What d'you mean that's it? There's got to be more than that?"

"No. Murkoff Corporation are known for being on the wrong side of the law, and for making bad deals, and the Asylum itself has featured on plenty of 'ghost hunters' websites, but that's about it. Wait, what's this?"

"What's what?" Dean asked, frowning as he spotted the pop-up link that was flashing at the bottom of the screen in red. He cast Sam an innocent look as his brother raised an eyebrow at him. "Honestly, this isn't me." He gave a sorrowful look towards the screen. "I haven't looked up Busty Asian Beauties on there in ages."

"If I get a virus because of this," Sam muttered under his breath before sighing, and giving into the nagging curiosity at the back of his mind as he clicked on the link. For a moment, the entire screen went pitch black, before several emails appeared, apparently showing the entire history of a correspondence between someone who had clearly ben working at the asylum and someone else, possibly the missing reporter.

"Wow these guys are really messed up." Dean commented from beside him. "I mean, c'mon, dream therapy. What the fuck?"

"Hell if I know," Sam replied, closing the laptop lid, and turning to face his brother. "So, what d'you think?"

"Shower, food, interview, get all our stuff, and head there for the night to see what we can find?" Dean suggested, going to stand up. "And I want my phone back."

"I don't have your phone."

"Yeah you do."

"I don't."

"Well, fuck."

It took a good couple of hours before Sam was satisfied they could actually pass for a couple of FEDs, after spending about twenty minutes moaning at Dean (his brother would definitely claim it could be called whining like a five-year-old) about how the older hunter had just stuffed the suits in the back of the Impala, and now they both looked like they'd been rolling around the floor bored to death at some kind of business meeting where the idea was to throw dust at each other. Dean claimed the Impala was by no means dirty. Sam glared back and started searching for his fake ID. Dean whined that he 'physically needed pie Sammy!' and finally they both were settled that each other were not at fault, and were waiting in some sort of cafe.

"There's literally nothing on this place apart from what I found in the email threads," Sam muttered, flicking through the emails he'd printed off back at the motel, and had shoved into his pocket for further research. Stabbing his salad with a fork, he glanced up, expecting to hear his brother's opinion only to find him chatting up the pretty waitress, leaning in close to whisper something in her ear, making her blush and damnit, if Sam was going to stand for working this case by himself because his brother was chasing women again, then - "Dean." He snapped. "Focus."

"Sorry," Dean replied, with a sarcastic edge to his voice as he watched the waitress head back to the counter, deliberately glancing over her shoulder with a flirtatious wink towards him. Returning to his pie (this place definitely had earned his approval) he frowned at the door. "I thought you said this reporter's sister was going to join us or something?"

"Yeah, she said she would when I spoke to her this morning." Sam agreed, without looking up. "What time is it?"

Dean shrugged as a response before the opening of the door caught his attention. "I think this must be her."

"Huh?" Sam finally looked up, greeting the woman with a smile before pulling out a chair to let her sit down. "You must be Olivia?"

The young woman nodded, accepting the seat gratefully and resting her hands on the table in front of her. "You mentioned you were launching an investigation into the disappearance of my brother?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Yes, and it would help if you could tell us anything you think would be useful?" Sam continued.

"Miles was always happy to take on the stories no one else would dare to. He was very much a dare-devil, and on the look for adventures. None of his colleagues or friends would go near the asylum, especially given the rumours about the place."

"Wait, what rumours?" Dean cut in.

Olivia frowned, as if surprised they hadn't heard. "The place has supposedly been abandoned for years, but rumours say that the patients were just left there. There's also stories of some sort of ghost, and given the way they treated the patients; everyone thinks its haunted. The police ordered an investigation a few years ago, when people started going missing, and when they went missing to, the entire place was kind of just left."

Dean gave Sam a pointed look, as if questioning why they hadn't heard of this place before. "Thank you for your time, Olivia."

She nodded, reaching out to circle her fingers around his wrist in a surprisingly tight grip, meeting his eyes with a fierce gaze. "Find my brother, please."

"We'll do our best," Sam promised her and she smiled, standing up.

"Thank you."

There was a couple of moments silence while they both took in the new information, broken only by Dean noisily eating his pie, making the most of it given that it was becoming clear they had a new case to be getting on with. Sam was frowning, and it was slowly becoming more and more like Bitchface 3, which had been carefully developed since a young age.

"Vengeful spirits?" Sam suggested at last.

"Probably," Dean admitted with a groan, staring down at his pie with a sorrowful expression. "We only just dealt with one though. Three of them. Why couldn't we have a werewolf or even a shapeshifter?"

"Yeah, unfortunately it doesn't work like that." Sam smirked at him. "Anyway, whenever we deal with a shapeshifter we end up getting arrested, or nearly arrested."

"It'll be an easy job this time round though. Quick in and out to check the place for whatever the hell is haunting it, and then kick its ass, before we can move on, because I really hate that motel."

"Uh-huh," Sam muttered, before meeting his brother's questioning look. "But we're the Winchesters. It's never that easy."