Sam gave his own thanks and took the revolver, checking to see if it was loaded and how many shots he had. The answer was yes, and six, so he'd have to make every shot count.

He, too, knelt down beside Leopold to take a look at the damage. His guts didn't seem to be spilling out, so there was hope, but they'd have to move him fast or he could bleed out.

The atmosphere was dark and heavy, carrying the hyper-realism one might expect in a horror film. It was completely different from Rose', of course, but that was because of the dream's origin. And in this case, it was between Sam and Leo. Naturally, the surreal forests and invading robots were replaced with old world class and slinking demons.

Somewhere in the distance, they could smell the sour scent of fire. Curls of smoke began to pour down the walls, defying gravity as they plumed downwards and crawled across the floor.

Sam flinched, feeling something wet drop on his face. He brushed it off, then examined his hand -now red- and reeled back. A choked gasp echoed through the corridor and as he looked up, another drop or two fell on the trio.

Above them, a young woman was pinned to the ceiling. Her pale eyes wide with terror as she looked down, pleading for help. Blood dripped from the gaping wound on her abdomen, white nightdress soaking with the stuff.

"Jess!" He choked out.

He'd seen this before. Too many times.

She tried to speak, a sick, wet, gurgle escaping her lips.

"JESS!"

And then it was a split second before the fire they could smell erupted from her body, savagely devouring the ceiling and walls around them.