Sam really, really hated emo music, a hatred that went back to well before it was associated with the serial killer who had murdered his roommate last semester. And at the moment, since she was the cause of the emo music, he hated his sister Brianna.

Old Fall Out Boy blasted from the car's speakers, pounding against Sam's eardrums. He gritted his teeth as he drew his shoulders up, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Brianna was singing along, and she was a horrible singer, so it just made his agony so much worse.

"I know I'm not your favorite record," Brianna almost chanted, waving one hand around, her other gripped around the steering wheel. "The songs you grow to like, never stick at first. So I'm writing you a chorus, and here is your verse."

Sam groaned, grumpily scooping up his caramel latte from the dash cup holder. Brianna flicked her eyes over at him, a grin teasing the edges of her mouth. Tapping the volume down enough to talk over, she said, "You can't complain, you know. You did promise."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Sam muttered, taking a gulp of his now lukewarm coffee. She was right, though, about the promise – but when your life is on the line, you don't think much about making promises like that.

"No, I meant that when you promised me free rein to choose whatever we listened to, you also promised not to complain, so. Shut up."

"I'm not saying anything!"

"I can hear you thinking it."

Light snowflakes batted against the windshield, the car's wipers whisking the white dots quickly away. Sam still couldn't believe the fall semester of his sophomore year was already over – the questions from his engineering finals still blurred before his eyes. At least the sheer dread of missing one of his finals – something that had actually happened to his roommate Jake in their freshman year – had dissipated. For now.

Within a few hours, the music will be over, he told himself. Within a few hours, you'll be home for Christmas break, and can see Mom and Dad and Henry.

And then I can try and forget last semester.

Although, he doubted he'd be able to do that.

The emo music continued to blare, Brianna rocking out as they hurtled down the highway. Not for the first time, Sam wished they hadn't decided to carpool back home. His parents, however, had thought it was a great idea, to save the gas expenses. "You can use one of our cars!" they'd told him. "Just go with Bri."

So Sam had parked his car in the driveway of his friend and roommate Marcus' house, so that it wouldn't remain unattended in the parking lot of their apartment complex. He'd hid his CDs under the seat – you never knew, maybe someone would see the Billy Joel and Genesis albums scattered across the floor and decide that the old battered Volvo was worth breaking into – and left for Pennsylvania with Brianna.

He wished they had taken his car. Then maybe they wouldn't have to listen to Bri's music if the radio decided to spit the disk back out, as it was wont to do. At the very least, it would have annoyed her for a bit.

Sam had never liked emo music, but he liked it even less after his roommate was murdered while attending a meeting for his "emo" club. According to Brianna, the club wasn't really emo since they listened to Goth music, as well, but Jake had always called it the emo club. And their meeting room, in the basement of ULD's student union, had been one of the creepiest places Sam had gone.

At least, the creepiest before he met the Grim Reaper.

Sam's life had hit an all new low after that.

I wonder what's going on with Cate and Pete now?

Ever since Halloween, when Sam had defeated his college professor, who turned out to be the deadly serial killer the Slit-Gag Killer, with the goal to unleash murderous death on the world in the form of one of the Grim Reaper's sisters, the Grim Reaper, who went by Pete, and his younger sister Cate had been silent. They hadn't contacted Sam at all, despite warning him to be prepared to be pulled back into the deathly world again. Even with Marcus and Selena spending a good deal of their free time trying to find a way to help Selena control her ability to see people die, there had been no word from the Grim Reaper Services.

The lack of news meant that Sam, and to a slightly lesser extent Marcus, Raj, and Selena, had spent the second half of their semester juggling the stresses of their various course loads with the stress of knowing a homicidal, bloodthirsty goddess was running around the underworld gathering power for her ultimate endgame. It was due to that that made Sam avoid, as much as possible, both the student union and the library, both scenes of deathly power. ULD, or the University of Liberty and Death, had apparently been built on a massive gravesite, the final resting place of hundreds of murder victims from a colonial serial killer.

It made Sam's daily walk to and from classes a lot less fun.

Selena didn't seem to care, about all the bodies under their feet. But to be honest, Selena hadn't cared about dead bodies before Halloween, even when coming face to face with Jake's mutilated corpse in the basement of the student union.

Sam stared out the window, at the snow crusting the sides of the mountains. Brianna had taken the scenic highway route to get back to their family home in Pennsylvania, and it was the only part of the trip so far that hadn't made Sam grumpy. When he saw the snow, he could think of Christmas and not think about anything after that – like next semester and more fun engineering classes. The promise of one really cool class was the only thing he had to look forward to after the holiday.

Shaking off the thought of next semester, he twisted around in his seat, glancing at the glass cage secured in the back seat. Brianna's pet corn snake, Draco, was hiding in the plastic hollow log resting on the bottom of the cage. He could barely see the shadow of the snake's coiled body within the object.

"He doing okay?" Brianna asked, noticing what Sam was looking at. "He's usually not fond of car rides."

"He's hiding," Sam told her, twisting back around. He still found it funny that his sister had named her snake after Draco Malfoy. "But he seems okay."

The siblings lapsed again into silence, the only noise the humming of the highway beneath their tires and old Fall Out Boy. Thankfully, Brianna had turned the volume down slightly in order to address Sam about Draco, so it was a bit more bearable.

"How's your research going?" Sam asked, after a while of quiet. Maybe if he got her talking, she'd turn the radio even lower.

"Good," Brianna enthused. "I love it." She then launched into a long diatribe about her research into the psychology behind serial killers, citing from other scholars in the field and referring to Dr. Anderson, a prominent developmental psychologist, and how her work would draw on his to supplement her theories concerning the abnormal development of the notorious killers.

Normally, this was the part of the conversation where Sam tuned his sister out, but now he paid close attention. Ever since his own encounter with a serial killer and the foreboding promise of Pete and Cate to yank Sam back into the deathly world sometime in the near future, he had tried to learn as much as possible. Brianna had unknowingly helped out some while Sam was hunting down the Slit-Gag Killer, giving her expertise on how to spot one. And he fully planned on getting her nearly expert opinion again the next time he had to face off with a deadly killer.

They all had been preparing. While Marcus and Selena spent their time studying how to control her powers, Raj had pursued his research into ULD's founding and its connection with the colonial serial killings, disappointed he couldn't outright tell his professor about his discoveries until he found more conclusive data than what he had seen with his own eyes. Sam had done his best to discreetly pick Brianna's brain and keep up to date on the serial murder world.

He did his best to bite back a grim laugh as Brianna began to speak about the Slit-Gag Killer. Sam knew that was one of her new favorite topics, considering the last murders had taken place on their campus by a ULD professor. And with Sam's roommate being one of the victims and Dr. Anderson's daughter Selena one of the original suspects, it had only captured her interest all the more.

What would Brianna give to know that ULD is the site of a mass grave of serial victims? And that ULD's founder was the descendant of that very same serial killer? Probably her left arm and me.

"I mean, you never think the killer is going to be someone you know," Brianna was saying, her voice taking on a measure of introspection. "You just don't. No one does. That's the horror of it. I can't imagine how you felt, finding out that your professor killed Jake." Her voice softened on these last words, became quieter.

"It was...I don't know, shocking," Sam said. The whole experience had been truly shocking and frustrating and stressful – and yet, through it all, mourning Jake hadn't been much of an option. Not until after Slit-Gag had been caught. Then Marcus, Raj, and Sam had all looked at each other and realized that Jake was gone, really, truly, gone, and wasn't ever coming back.

They had all cried a bit, then.

The university had nicely forced them all to visit a counseling session at the student health center, to deal with the trauma of Jake's death. They had especially focused on Sam, since not only had Sam been the one to find the body – along with Selena – he had also been a student of the serial killing professor. Sam had hated every second of the counseling, but he had felt somewhat better following them.

He perked up as he saw the sign announcing they were crossing the Pennsylvania border. They were so close to home. So close to the emo music being over.

"Did you hear about the new documentary coming to streaming?" Brianna asked. "It releases beginning of January and I'm so excited. We'll have to watch it."

Sam wrinkled his nose. Brianna didn't like documentaries unless they were about violent and inhumane crimes. "Oh, no. What horror is being talked about in a boring monotone for two hours this time?"

Brianna rolled her eyes. "It's on the unsolved murders of the Barbeque Man. You know, that guy who used to cook his victims? There are twenty-six murders attributed to him, and that's just the bodies they found. I thought it'd be a fun nostalgia trip, since he was the killer that got me interested into that aspect of psychology."

Sam shuddered. He vaguely remembered hearing about the Barbeque Man back in high school, the guy who cooked his victims like they were steak. Brianna had theorized about whether or not he ate them, which thoroughly creeped Sam out, but from what she had said later, the evidence didn't point to that. Then he had slowly seeped out of the news as no new bodies were found and the cases all went cold.

Literally and figuratively.

I wonder if Cate and Pete ever caught him.

Finally, Brianna was pulling into the driveway of their parents' house and Sam was pushing the door open, laughing as he heard Henry, the family's golden retriever, barking excitedly. He knelt as the dog launched himself at him, catching the silky golden bundle in his arms. "Hey, Henry!" he exclaimed, lifting his chin to keep the dog from licking his face. "Hey, hey, that's enough, that's enough!"

Brianna grabbed her suitcase and Draco's cage from the backseat, grinning at them. "I need to put Draco down before I pet Henry," she said. "Draco's stressed enough without getting close up with a dog. Let's get inside. It's cold."

Sam gently pushed Henry off him and stood, brushing the snow off his jeans. Two wet spots were now forming over his knees. Taking his backpack and duffle bag from the backseat, he slammed the door and followed Brianna to the front door, Henry trotting happily along beside them.

"We're home!" Brianna announced as she pushed open the front door, setting her suitcase down and lifting Draco out of reach of Henry's eager sniffing. Sam shut the door and swung his bags to the ground, stretching his arms. It was good to be out of the car.

"Brianna! Sam!" their mother exclaimed, hurrying out of the kitchen. Cara Walker had her daughter's dark auburn hair and narrow features and shared her son's dark brown eyes and Greek nose. She hugged them both, squeezing them hard. "I've missed you two! Your father's still at the office, but he'll be back soon for dinner. I made your favorite, roast chicken."

[----]

It was always a bit disorienting, returning home after living in his apartment all semester. He hadn't been home since their fall break, in mid-October, and even though Sam had grown up in this house, it felt like it didn't belong to him anymore. Even his room felt foreign, as the majority of the unique possessions that made the room his were back in his apartment, like his vintage Star Wars action figures, which stood in the corners of his desk, and the stuffed snake Brianna had given him years ago.

Sitting at the dinner table with his family, however, felt so normal, as normal as the house felt strange. Sam and Brianna sitting across from each other, their parents at the head and foot, Henry lying in the living room, head on his paws, eyes tracking every movement of his owners. He knew he wasn't allowed in the kitchen, and knew he wasn't supposed to whine – but he could plead with his eyes. Sam always saved him something for after dinner, and found himself unconsciously setting a piece of dark meat aside for the dog.

As they started to eat, their parents asking about Sam's finals and Brianna's research, Sam felt himself tensing. He hadn't seen his parents since before Jake's murder, and he just knew they were going to ask him about it. But not now – later. They had been worried, Brianna had told him, worried enough to convince her to check up on him. Sam knew they would be even more worried if they found out he technically wasn't supposed to exist.

Just relax. When they ask, just say it's been strange but it's okay. You're doing okay.

But am I okay?

You're not okay! his brain wanted to scream. You're on a first name basis with the Grim Reaper and he expects you to help him catch his crazy, bloodthirsty sister. You'll never be okay.

Unfortunately, those words reminded him of an emo song, and that reminded him of finding Jake's body.

Sam sighed, taking a bite of his roast chicken. He hated when people asked him about Jake, and if he was doing okay, because he felt guilty if he said yes. He missed Jake, he was sorry he was dead, but he wasn't torn to pieces over it. He hadn't had time to mourn him right after his death, and by the time he could, it almost felt too late. For the most part, he felt okay, but yet at others – he thought about how Jake was dead, actually dead, and he wasn't okay.

And the last thing he wanted to do was get into that discussion with his parents.

"So, Bri," his mother said, interrupting his reverie. "Any news about this Kurt I've heard you mention?" His mother's playful, inquisitive tone suggested this Kurt may be more than simply a friend.

Starting, Sam glanced at his sister, lifting an eyebrow at her. "Who's Kurt?"

Brianna colored slightly. "He's just...Kurt. We're just friends. Friends, Mom."

Sam looked at his parents, who didn't seem convinced by Brianna's declarations, and furrowed his brow. "Why wasn't I told about Kurt?"

"Because there's nothing to tell!" Brianna exploded. "He's just a friend, okay? I see him around Black Coffee sometimes."

"A special friend?" Sam suggested, grinning at his sister's discomfort.

"No!"

"Maybe special friend?"

"Samuel John Walker, say one more word –"

"Brianna Evelyn Walker, use my full name again –"

Their father, George Walker, ended their bickering and turned the conversation in a different direction, still avoiding the topic of Jake. But Sam's anticipation of the topic did not dissipate, for he knew it was coming. How could they not ask him about Jake? They were worried, he knew. He supposed he'd be worried, too, if he was in their place.

As dinner ended and they started to clean up, Sam's father took his arm, leading him out of the kitchen. Sam felt his stomach clench. This was it.

"How are you doing?" George Walker asked, as soon as they were out of earshot of the kitchen. His eyes searched Sam's face with concern.

"I'm okay" was on the tip of his tongue, but before he could say them, the words morphed into something more honest. "I'm not sure. I mean, I say I'm fine, and in many ways I am. I just...Jake's dead. He's not fine. How can I be? So it's weird. But I am...okay, I guess. It's just still so strange and shocking, if I think about it too hard."

"You know you can always talk to your mother and me," his father told him, placing a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder. "You know that, right?"

Sam nodded. You have no idea that there's so much I can't say. You just wouldn't believe me. "I know, Dad. Don't worry."

His father smiled at him, looking relieved but still a bit worried. Sam returned his grin, the knot easing in his stomach. See, not so hard, was it?

The four Walkers finished cleaning up in the kitchen. As Brianna headed into the living room, falling onto the couch, Sam followed her, taking a seat beside his sister. "So," he said, grinning wickedly at her. "Kurt."

Brianna groaned, grabbing the throw pillow and slamming it into his head. "Stop it! Man, I'm really regretting mentioning him to Mom."

"You didn't say anything at all to me," Sam said accusingly.

She lifted an eyebrow at him. "Would you say anything to me about a girl?"

Sam felt his thoughts shift for a moment and pulled them right back. "Nope. So, is he a maybe special friend?"

"No, he's just a friend," Brianna clarified. "Stop making it more than it is."

"Do you want him to be a special friend?" Sam inquired quietly, sobering.

"I don't know," Brianna answered, after a moment of thought. "I found out this past week he's not a fan of snakes. He did not know how to respectfully hold Draco, at all. He was being very rough with my poor baby!"

"Cut the ties," Sam ordered. "Anyone who can't handle being with a snake won't be able to handle being with you."

Brianna slapped his shoulder, but laughed. "I feel like if you have a problem with a tiny thing like Draco, who is harmless, the fact that I spend my days studying serial killers and hope to actually get to talk to them some day will be a major turnoff."

The brother and sister laughed, leaning back into the couch. But yet, despite the majority of his stress melting away, Sam could still feel a chill, lingering in his spine, foreboding and icy cold.

[----]

Sam had no idea what time it was when something woke him up. Drowsily blinking his eyes, he dragged himself up onto his elbows and rolled to check the LED clock. 3:45, the blinking numbers stated. Frowning, he flicked his eyes about the room, vaguely wondering what had forced him out of his sleep.

Nothing, his mind whispered. It was nothing but some stray noise, right, some creak of the house you've almost forgotten. Nothing that prevents you from going back to sleep.

Sleepily, Sam accepted his mind's logic, grateful for the excuse to fall back asleep. Drawing the covers back over his shoulders, he dropped his head back onto the pillow and without further deliberation was plummeting back into a dream state.

And then he actually was falling.

His eyes wouldn't open, his body wouldn't move, but he knew he was falling, could feel it in how his stomach knotted and his body screamed with adrenaline and fear. The comforting warmth of his quilt suddenly became fiery, scorching away his skin but the flames were invisible. He could see nothing, hear nothing, but the falling, the pain – they were real. In fact, Sam was convinced that was reality, his reality, and that any normalcy of having two feet planted firmly on the ground was gone.

What the hell is happening?

His insides writhed, contorting into odd shapes as he continued to fall endlessly, still petrified and unable to see, hear, or smell anything. The only senses that still worked were his sense of touch, which felt the blast of flames, and his sense of taste, for he tasted sulfur and smoke on the back of his tongue. Strands of music forced their way into his pores, feeling the music over hearing it. It thrummed within him, like a discordant melody, the words stringing his arteries and veins like they were picking at a guitar. The words and underlying melody were vaguely familiar, but arranged in a horrendous fashion that grated against Sam's organs and skin like a cheese grater, shaving off bits of him and disintegrating them.

The elevator only goes up to ten!

The elevator only goes up to ten!

The elevator only goes up to ten!

The music suddenly halted and Sam's body was filled with an icy chill. "The elevator goes up to ten, but we, anomaly, we only go down."

Then he was plummeting again, faster than ever.

Sam snapped awake, bolting up and out of bed, staggering as he hurled himself away from the bed. Drenched in sweat, he leaned against his bedroom wall, panting as he gazed back at his bed. The rumpled sheets and comforter looked innocent enough, but the wet mark on his pillow bore witness to his nightmare. He glanced down at himself, patting his arms, chest, and legs as if to make sure he was all still there. He seemed perfectly intact, no sign that he had been attacked in his sleep, no sign of the burns he had so intensely fought.

What the hell?

That had been no ordinary dream, he could tell. He had never had a nightmare such as that before. The last words uttered floated again through his mind. The elevator goes up to ten, but we, anomaly, we only go down.

Down to where?

Sam didn't think he wanted to find out.

/**/

There you have it! The first chapter of Sam Walker 2! What do you think so far? Excited to read more about the adventures of Sam and the others?

Please comment and leave a vote!

Skylar Wittenborn