A/N: Seeing all the angsty previews for Stana's upcoming new show inspired me to write a Castle fic based on a similar premise. Will post a chapter a day until the show premieres in just over a week and...probably more sporadically after that. Usual fanfic disclaimers apply and all mistakes are mine.

Chapter 1

Near Albany, NY

He's never hiked this far into the woods before.

But Molly hadn't gone for a real walk in over two weeks because he's had to work late every night. Her only walks had been the go-out-and-do-your-business kind. Once around the block, long after sundown. After which he'd gone back home to stick a frozen dinner into the microwave before crashing for six hours.

So, he'd indulged her with a long walk in the woods today but now it was getting dark; not so much from the time of day, but from the ominously black clouds that covered the skies.

It started to drizzle.

He shivered in his too-thin windbreaker and noticed a familiar pain flare up in his knee. Time to go home. He was getting too old for all this. Long weeks. Longs walks.

He could barely see Molly now. His mutt was a black speck in the increasingly dense woods ahead.

The old man cupped a pair of weathered hands over his mouth and hollered. "Molly! Get back here!" He did it twice, louder the second time.

Usually, she was a good dog who listened to him. Even though she was getting on in years too, and her hearing was failing. Didn't matter. She was still the only female in his life that he trusted.

"Molly!"

No response.

He could see a moving black dot in the distance. Had to be a squirrel or a damn chipmunk. Those critters always made her oblivious to everything.

It was raining harder now and the old man was glad that he was under the cover of the trees, otherwise he'd be soaked soon.

He began walking in the direction of his dog but it took effort. The undergrowth was so thick, full of gnarly roots, storm-toppled tree limbs and slippery fallen leaves that he made slow progress, tripping nearly twice before he was within striking distance of Molly.

"For Christ's sake, Molly," he clapped his hands together. "Get over here."

But the dog wouldn't budge. She was yelping and her tail was wagging furiously.

Maybe she was stuck?

When he first approached Molly, he thought she was near a mass of trees that were bunched together unusually close but now he could see that it wasn't trees at all.

It was a man-made structure.

The old man squinted in the growing darkness and tried to make out what it was. There were vertical slats of lumber, but they were in such a state of decay that it was hard to tell that it was a building at all. It was small; barely bigger than a tool shed, and from the looks of it; on the verge of collapse.

Why the hell was there a man-made structure here, in the middle of the woods, so far away from the trail?

Raindrops fell on his head and ran down his face. Molly cocked her head in his direction, acknowledging his presence, without budging from her spot.

"Come on," he slapped his thigh and made the usual wave with his arm that always got her to come. He even pulled a dog treat out of his pocket. Once she was close enough, he'd slap the leash on her if that's what it took to get her back.

He was tired and fed up. And cold.

He held out his palm. "Come on, girl. Look what I got."

But Molly wouldn't budge. Turning down a treat was unheard of and he didn't know what to make of it. She turned her head back to the dilapidated shack, whining. A pitiful sound that made him shake his head in confusion.

"Girl, I'm sorry if your damn chipmunk ran away into that thing but I ain't goin' in there and gettin' it for you."

He was close enough to Molly now to fasten the leash around her neck and she let him do it without protest. But she still didn't move from her spot.

"Come on," he tugged at the leash but she resisted, pulling him back instead. If she was a smaller dog, he'd have picked her up, but Molly was a Shepherd-Rottie-and-something-else mix and there was no way he was dragging himself back through all that foliage with her in his arms.

He took another large step so that he was standing right next to her and could see what she was fixated on.

It was a door.

A cracked, wooden door, hanging on to one loose hinge.

The old man gave it a push but it didn't move.

Molly's whining got louder.

"Okay, okay-whatever the hell's in there better be worth all this drama." He gave it another push, putting most of his body weight behind it this time, and the door finally gave way. It flung open with a bang.

The old man flinched, afraid that he might've knocked down the entire shack but he was wrong. It held firm.

Molly was already inside and the old man followed, holding on to the leash tightly. She wasn't getting away a second time tonight.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to make out what he was seeing in the eerie darkness of the tiny room.

And when they did, he screamed.