The Hotel

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural and I'm not making any money from this fic

Summary: Inspired by the film 1408 and the series The Lost Room... After getting stranded in a snowstorm, Sam and Dean stay in a hotel

Prompt: 11 – snow, choices, cell phone

Timeline: Set partway through season 3

Implement: Hand

Type of story: Gen; a scene of wee!chesters

Warning(s): Strong violence and horror; spoilers for all seasons of Supernatural up to and including season 3; swearing; original characters; spanking

Author's Note: There are two different spanking scenes in this. One is with an OFC, but I hope people still enjoy reading the fic

Dean cursed under his breath as he had to stop the car, because the visibility was getting so bad. Through the white cloud that seemed to cover everything, he thought he could see figures moving – but couldn't make out any details.

In the passenger seat, Sam stirred, blearily opening his eyes and looking around. "Why have we stopped?"

"Snowstorm."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "A snowstorm? In the middle of July? Did you hit your head or something?" He sat up straighter, and squinted out of the window. "Huh. You know what this reminds me of? That time when we were kids and went outside to make a snowman when there'd been supposed sightings of Bigfoot, remember?"

"Not quite sure what that has to do with anything," As carefully as he could – more because he didn't want to damage the Impala than anything else – Dean parked the car as close to the kerb as he could get it. "I guess we have to wait out the storm. Can't believe it came on so quickly." He glanced at Sam. "Do you want to wait here, or go and see what's causing this?"

"It's unlikely that this is natural." Sam undid his seatbelt and got out of the car.

Dean got out as well, shivering in the cold. For a brief moment, he considered grabbing one of the big guns from the boot. However, he had his small gun – which he never went anywhere without. That should be enough protection. "We really should get some warmer clothes. Next time I hustle pool, remind me not to spend all the money on having a good time." When Sam didn't answer, he frowned. "Hey. Sammy."

Sam didn't say anything, but he pointed ahead of them. Squinting, Dean could make out a building through the blanket of white which seemed to cover everything. There was a sign which read, HOTEL STARSHINE.

"Kind of a corny name," Dean muttered. He shrugged, and looked at Sam again. "Want to check it out?"

"Might as well. Unless you've got anything better in mind?"

"I can't see anyone else around, and it's not like the snowstorm is about to clear up any time soon." Not only that, but he really didn't want to stay out in the cold any longer. Dean walked over to the hotel, noticing that it appeared rather old-fashioned. He glanced at Sam. "I wonder if there's even any electricity running through it."

Sam shrugged. "The laptop's safe in the Impala."

Dean started up the steps, and pushed open the door, stepping through into the hotel lobby. He walked over to the reception desk and smiled charmingly at the woman behind it. "Hello. We just got stuck in the snowstorm that came up outside. Do you have a room we could stay in until it blows over?"

The old woman stared at him in dull silence. Only the faint rise and fall of her chest showed that she was alive at all.

"Er, excuse me?" Dean waved a hand in front of her face, and then glanced at Sam. "Do you think she's sleeping with her eyes open?"

"Mrs. Murdock's deaf," a woman's voice said from behind them. "I'm her daughter. Can I help you?"

Dean turned and smiled at the attractive brunette standing behind them. She was wearing a white dress which revealed quite a lot of her body, and her dark eyes regarded them thoughtfully. Much to his surprise, Dean found himself disliking her intensely almost immediately. His smiled faltered, but held. "My name's Dean; this is my brother, Sam. We got lost in the snowstorm. Is there a room we can stay in?"

"Of course. We have plenty available." The woman smiled, and moved round behind the desk, signing briefly to her mother, who nodded and stood up, walking into the room behind the desk. "It's time for her nap. My name's Lillian, by the way." As she spoke, she took a book out from beneath the desk and opened it up.

"Don't you have a computer?" Sam asked. "It might be a good idea to invest in one. It would probably be easier than using that book."

Lillian gave him a sunny smile. "We're rather old-fashioned here. Our guests come to escape the pressures of busy lives. All the same, we have a number of rooms available. It'll be twenty dollars a night. I'm afraid we can't accept credit cards here – but meals are included in the price."

"That's fine." Dean briefly wondered why it was so cheap. Maybe it was because there wasn't any electricity. More likely, it was because the hotel was so awful that they'd get sued if they charged anymore. He handed Lillian a couple of the notes. "So which room do we get? And are there many other guests staying here at the moment?"

"We only have four other people staying here right now," Lillian answered, as she took a key off one of the hooks and passed it to them. "You're in room 15, which is up the stairs and to your right." She smiled slightly. "If you want something to eat, lunch is served in about an hour."

"Thank you," Sam said, taking the key. He glanced at Dean, and then headed towards the stairs. "We don't have to stay here for long," he said in quite a low voice.

Dean glanced towards the door, noticing that the snow was still falling heavily outside. He shook his head, and glanced at the stairs again. "Somehow, I get the feeling we won't be leaving for quite some time." His tone was equally low, and he couldn't say how he knew – he just did.

The hotel gave him the creeps.

Dean was somewhat relieved to find that there were two beds in the room. He was sick of people always assuming that he and Sam were a couple. Open minds were all very well, but it was extremely annoying to have to constantly explain that they were brothers, not in a gay relationship.

"This feels like it's stuck in the past," Sam muttered, looking around. "No electricity... there's a fire, though. You think this place is haunted?" he asked.

"I wouldn't have a clue." Dean opened the closet, and started feeling around in the back. "Hey, Sammy, come over here. It's like there's a secret compartment behind here. It's hollow. See?" To prove his words, he rapped on the wood. "Give me a hand in moving it, okay?"

"Fine, whatever." Sam dropped his bag onto the bed, then moved towards Dean's side and helped him push the closet to one side. Doing so revealed a door behind it, and the brothers exchanged glances. "I wonder why they would hide it," Sam said, trying the doorknob. He frowned when he found that it was locked.

"Probably because they've got something to hide that's inside." Dean ran his fingers lightly over the lock, frowning. "Do you have wire on you?"

"Yeah, because I always carry wire with me. It's right there, next to the wire cutters." Sam rolled his eyes. "Seriously. Who carries wire around with them?"

"Me, actually." Dean straightened up again. "But it's in the car. What?" he asked, noticing the way his brother was looking at him. "Okay, so I'm not as smart as you, college boy. I still get things done." He flopped down on one of the beds with a sigh. "How long do you think it'll be before the snowstorm blows over? That chick gives me the creeps."

Sam opened his mouth.

Abruptly, there was the sound of a baby crying. It seemed to be coming from the next room – but the noise was loud enough to be heard clearly, even through the wall. Dean frowned, and tapped lightly on the wall it seemed to be coming behind. "Hey? Do you think your kid might be hungry?" he called.

"Shh... Sammy, shh."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Dean could see his confusion mirrored on his brother's face. Even though they both knew it was impossible, the voice definitely sounded like their father.

"I'm going to check it out."

"No, Dean! You don't know what it is." Sam moved to block his brother's way. "It's not gonna be him. I know he's not in hell anymore, but he won't have come here. It'll be some kind of trick." Dean started to lift his arm, and Sam flinched, remembering the last time Dean had punched him.

But his brother merely lowered his arm again, face paling slightly. "Sorry, Sammy," Dean said. "I guess you're right. It could just be that we're hearing what we want to. Or maybe it's like that film – what was it? The one about the hotel and the writer who looked into haunted hotels?"

"1408?"

"That's the one."

The crying had faded, and Sam relaxed just slightly. "There's also the possibility that we might be imagining things. Either way, I don't like this hotel. You're right – there's something really freaky about Lillian and her mother. And who charges that small amount to stay in a hotel that isn't badly-kept?" He shook his head. "We need to get out of here as soon as we can."

"I hate to say this, Sammy, but it sort of looks like the snowstorm isn't going to die down any time soon."

Sam looked out of the window. "Do you want to go outside and get the wire from the car?"

"There's not much point in doing that now. It's too cold," Dean complained. "I'm not going out there if I don't have to. Besides, it's possible that there might be other clues, either in this room or somewhere else in the hotel – and if there's a key somewhere, we can use it." He grinned. "As long as it can be found, it's not actually breaking and entering."

"Since when has that stopped you before?"

"Well, you know – I don't want to have to leave in a hurry. If we don't need to steal, we shouldn't..." As Sam stared at him, Dean shifted his position slightly. "Okay. I don't want to provoke either of those creepy chicks. You know what I'm like around pretty women, Sammy. Maybe – as we get closer to the deadline – my instincts are sharper. I don't like or trust Lillian."

"I'm supposed to be the one who doesn't immediately trust the women."

Dean shrugged in agreement. "I was thinking that maybe we should give Bobby a call; see if he knows anything about this." Not giving Sam a chance to reply, he took out his cell phone and started dialling. Then, he frowned. "There's no signal. Surely there'd be something, at least."

"It's probably the weather, interfering with the signal."

"Oh, look at college boy who thinks he's so smart."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You'd be lost without me, and you know it."

Dean sat down on the bed, opening his mouth. Before he could make any kind of response, though, bright light shafted through the room, intense enough that the brothers had to close their eyes and look away.

But it still pierced through their eyelids.

When the light had finally faded, Dean slowly opened his eyes. He then glanced around in confusion, not able to see any sign of his brother. "Sam? Where are you? This isn't funny!" he snapped, looking around. "Sammy?" He was starting to get more worried than anything else. When there was still no reply, he straightened up and headed over to the door. But when he tried it, he found that it was locked.

"Damn it!"

After kicking the door did no good – apart from making himself feel a bit better – Dean headed over to the drawers. It was possible that his brother had been spirited away into the secret compartment. Either way, he couldn't very well just sit around doing nothing. And a closer look at the window revealed that there were bars on it. The hotel made him think of a prison, and that was something he didn't particularly want to be reminded of.

Dean started rooting through the drawers. Finally, after he'd moved onto the second chest, he found a hidden compartment. It was relatively easy to slide the bottom of the drawer out, and he found a key.

"Should have done that before," Dean muttered, taking the key out and putting the drawer back in place.

"Hey, Sammy. Sorry I got you in trouble."

"That's okay, Dean. It was my fault as well."

Turning slightly as he heard the familiar voices, Dean stared as he saw the kid forms of himself and his brother sitting on chairs next to each other. He remembered that this had been after they'd gone out into the snow when they'd been forbidden to do so. They weren't supposed to be talking.

But that had never stopped them before.

"Dad's really mad," Sam offered.

"Yeah, well – we disobeyed him and made him mad. That's always gonna get our butts roasted," Dean said matter-of-factly. "He's coming," he said quickly. "We'd better stop talking."

John Winchester appeared in front of them, as if by magic.

Dean recoiled back sharply as he saw his dad, and his hands started to go behind him before he remembered that it was just a memory. Seeing his father again made him tense up a little, remembering the last time he'd seen John. Privately, he hoped that he'd gone on to heaven. Sure, John Winchester had done plenty of bad things in his life – but he'd done a lot of good as well.

"Boys, I told you not to go outside for a reason," John said, not really angry anymore – but definitely unhappy. "It was too dangerous. If you'd just waited, you would have been able to go outside eventually."

"Sorry, Dad, but Sammy really wanted to go out. It wasn't his fault, though. I shouldn't have taken him out."

John sat down on a third chair, a determined look on his face. "Both of you were at fault, boys," he said. "Come here, Sam." When his youngest walked over, John picked him up, bent him over his lap, and gave him seven hard smacks – equal to his age. Then, he held his crying son tightly on his lap. "It's all right, Sammy. It's all over. You're forgiven now."

Once Sam had finished crying, John let him go, and beckoned to Dean. Just like a good little soldier, Dean also walked to his father's side, and – after being bent over John's knee – received eleven hard smacks.

However, Dean only let himself be hugged briefly before he struggled free of his father's embrace and moved to his brother's side.

As the imagesfaded, Dean closed his eyes briefly. He should have spent more time with his father, but how could he have known that his father was going to die too soon? Like all kids, he'd believed that his father would always be around; even though he'd known that his dad did a dangerous job.

Realising that he had to find Sam, Dean walked over to the closet, somewhat relieved to find that it hadn't been moved back. Using the key, he unlocked the door and opened it.

The compartment was bare, apart from a small box. Slowly, Dean took out the box and opened it. The first thing he found was a newspaper article, detailing a fire which had broken out in the Starshine Hotel. Dean stiffened just slightly when he realised that the victims were Lillian, her mother, and a stranger who seemed to bear more than a passing resemblance to himself – Edward.

There were also a few love letters that had been exchanged between Lillian and Edward. Dean read the first line of one of them, but then put them away again, somewhat embarrassed by the detailed descriptions.

"Well, this is helpful," Dean muttered, thinking about the fact that the hotel had been burned. How could he get rid of the ghosts? Maybe by doing an exorcism... But it was Sam who was good at that stuff.

There was also a silver pendent; but, as he heard the door creak open, Dean was on his feet immediately. He grabbed Lillian's arm as she entered, and – without even knowing why he did it – he sat down on the bed, pulled her across his knees, and started swatting her bottom straight away. "What the hell?! You're pissed about dying in that fire, so you're kidnapping innocent strangers off the street?!" Okay, so they were hunters.

But that wasn't the point.

Dean continued to spank her, but he paused when he realised that she was saying something. Putting his ear close to her head, he heard, "My mother...!"

"Your mother's doing this?" Startled, Dean let go of her arm, and Lillian was on her feet immediately, rubbing at her bottom. "Okay... What the hell's going on here?"

"My mom didn't want me to leave the hotel – didn't want me to leave her. When I fell in love with Edward, she thought I was going to leave her. I guess she was just trying to get attention, but the fire got out of hand... and we all died. But only me and her were trapped here." Lillian looked desperately at Dean. "She trapped you and your brother within time, because of your resemblance to Edward; but she sent your brother back to your time."

"I'm not Edward," Dean said quietly.

"I know that," Lillian replied, wiping at her eyes. "I want to help you. I... She has a necklace..." Then, before she could get any further, her eyes widened, and she started clawing at her throat. As she collapsed, Dean could see her mother standing behind her.

"I will not let you take my daughter away from me!" the old woman snapped, suddenly not looking as senile anymore.

Dean started to back away, and his foot hit the box. As the woman moved towards him, Lillian threw herself on her mother, screaming and clawing and biting. Taking advantage of the distraction, Dean grabbed the necklace and slammed it into the wall with enough force to smash it.

Immediately, the old woman shrieked, struggling in Lillian's grip. She then collapsed into dust, and all around him, Dean noticed the hotel crumbling. Within moments, he was standing in the burned-out husk of a building, all alone.

Except that there was a baby lying on the ground.

"Okay, this is really weird," Dean muttered, bending down to pick up the baby. Glancing around, he noticed that the snowstorm had disappeared as suddenly as it had come up.

"Hey, Dean!"

Clasping the baby to his chest, Dean started in the direction of his brother, not giving a backwards glance to the hotel.

The End