A/N: I've only seen the first season so far, so forgive me if anything's… out of the ordinary or maybe even familiar-sounding.

A/N: Dean's thoughts are in italics, as well as the original lyrics.


"Hotel California"

Part I

By Lady(dragon) Guinevere

On a dark desert highway,
Cool wind in my hair,
Warm smell of "colitas"
Rising up through the air,
Up ahead in the distance
I saw a shimmering light,
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim,
I had to stop for the night.

Its engine purring like a satisfied kitten, the black Impala cruised through a dark desert highway. Dean and Sam Winchester had been on the road all day and the desert heat was getting to them. The fabric of their attire clung to their bodies, hot and sticky. Beads of sweat gathered on their foreheads and slowly trickled down over their faces.

Loosely guiding the steering wheel with his right hand, Dean's left elbow rested in the window frame while his fingers gently touched the roof of the car. He could feel the cool wind in his hair, finally the blistering hot day was about to give in to the chilly night. A warm, sweet scent made him flare his nostrils. Recognizing the scent from previous 'work visits' to these desert parts, he furrowed his brow when trying to recall the name of the plant responsible for it.

"They're called 'Colitas'." Sam responded to Dean's thoughts before he'd even had a chance to phrase the question.

"You know, your psychic abilities are starting to freak me out, Sammy." Dean gave Sam a disturbed look.

"It's called 'body language', Dean. I was just reading your facial expression, that's all." Shaking his head, Dean slouched back into his seat.

A response was about to tumble from Dean's plump lips, when he saw a shimmering light in the distance. His head grew heavier by the minute and his sight grew dim, he knew he'd lose his focus soon. He had to stop for the night, because he was responsible for one more person besides himself: Sammy.

Thankful the hotel wasn't a mirage, Dean drove the car through the gravel covered parking place. Next to a silver coloured, classic Mercedes Benz, he came to a halt and turned off the humming engine. Grabbing their duffel bags from the backseat, Dean and Sam got out of the humid seats and stretched out their stiffened bodies. Opening up the trunk, Dean got out a few supplies just in case.

With one arched eyebrow he appraised the place they were about to enter. The old mission style house had had better days, judging by the looks of the peeled off paint and rotten shutters.

His eyes gliding over the once bright coloured name sign, Sam read its name out loud. "Hotel California."

Smirking, Dean replied, "Very original…"

"Can you spell 'free ride'?"

"You know, this one actually *looks* like the one on the album cover, for a change."

"Let's just hope they're not trying to 'kill the beast' so we can get a decent night of sleep for once." Referring to the lyrics of 'Hotel California', Sam longed those words weren't meant *literally*.

"It's a shame the Eagles are still alive, you know?" While he opened up the front door, Dean gave Sam a broad grin.

"I thought you *liked* The Eagles?" Sam said to Dean's back while they ambled towards the reception desk.

"Yeah man, don't you get it? Just imagine…" Sparks gave Dean's green eyes a golden glow, as he gestured at an imaginary sign. "The Eagles' ghosts, performing here live for your entertainment, every evening from now until eternity. They can check out anytime they like…"

"But they can never leave." Snickering, Sam finished Dean's sentence and eyed his brother until Dean's eyes glad past his appearance onto something behind him. Abruptly, he turned himself around to follow Dean's stare.

There she stood in the doorway,
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinkin' to myself :
"This could be heaven and this could be hell"
Then she lit up a candle,
And she showed me the way,
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say…


Just behind the reception desk, the doorway framed a dark-haired, attractive looking woman dressed in a white, breezy dress. As she approached the desk, the mission bell suddenly rang by itself. For a brief moment, Sam and Dean took their eyes off the woman standing in front of them and gave each other a meaningful look.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Dean asked Sam.

Sighing, Sam answered, "Heaven or hell, Dean."

"Before hell unleashes, I'm gonna get me some heaven anyway." One arm resting on the reception desk, Dean turned to look at the woman again. "Good day, ma'am. You got room for two weary travellers?"

Without saying a word, the woman handed them a form to fill in and pointed at a sign saying 'Cash only.'

"Wow, easy on the small talk there, lady." Joking, Dean hoped to elicit some kind of response and gave the woman one of his most charming smiles.

Remaining almost frozen to the spot, not moving a single muscle in her face or body, the woman didn't respond to Dean's charm offence.

"Dean…" Nudging Dean in his side, Sam was in a rush to get away from the desk as soon as possible to share his suspicions about the woman with his brother.

"I know, Sammy, I know."

Inarticulately, Dean urged his brother to patience while he finished signing them up. He took some cash from his wallet and tossed it on the counter. If she'd been some psycho ghost who wanted to kill them, she would've done that by now, so he figured they were safe. For the moment being, anyway. Besides, all ghosts and other beings just had to wait until he had a refreshing shower.

Then the woman lit up a candle and showed them the way, lights flickering wherever she passed. The corridors seemed endless and worn out, like a desert storm swept through them, blasting away most of the paint. There were voices down the corridor, too soft to be human. Or maybe they just came from another part of the hotel, to distant to hear them clearly.

Welcome to the Hotel California,
Such a lovely place, (Such a lovely place) Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California,
Any time of year, (Any time of year) You can find it here

A soft, female voice whispered to Dean, "Welcome to the Hotel California, such a lovely place, such a lovely face."

Rubbing his face, Dean wondered if his imagination got the best of him, or whether the drowsiness washing over him played tricks with his mind.

Another melodious voice sighed, "Plenty of room at the Hotel California, any time of year, you can find it here."

"Dean? You hear that too?" His eyes travelling all over the place, Sam wasn't able to spot anyone else besides them and their ghostly guide.

"Yeah, Sammy. It seems we've got some work to do around here. But not before I've had my shower."

Sometimes Dean wondered how they got caught up in this life. The endless hunts for demons, ghosts, evil things and all the other wickedness out there, blunted him. Being normal seemed so long ago, he wouldn't even know how to act like it anymore. The thrill of the kill was satisfying and he loved the feel of the adrenalin pumping through his veins, but more and more he was left behind feeling hollow and empty.

There was hardly ever any time left to sit down, relax and really think about it though. Even when they had some time off, Dean was never at ease. He kept scanning the area for potential danger. Anyone or anything that seemed suspicious wouldn't disappear from his sight without him knowing about it. Any threat to his family was eliminated as soon as possible. Better safe than sorry.

For now, they had to get through this night, had to survive yet another challenge and overcome another obstacle on the way to find their father back.


After a slightly disappointing shower with lukewarm, brownish water sputtering into a mouldy bathroom, Dean stepped into the hotel room revived, wearing nothing but a towel. Drops of water still nestled in the tiny dips just above his collarbones and butt, whereas other droplets found their way over his tanned, sculpted torso.

"Sam?" Flicking through his duffel bag, Dean sought out a pair of tight boxers and a clean T-shirt. After approving the green shirt held out in front of him, Dean allowed his eyes to travel over to the bed where Sam lay. "Sammy?"

Strolling over to the bed, the volume of the soft snoring and gargling noises increased with every step Dean took. Sam was exhausted from the heat and the long, boring trip and had dozed off into a much needed slumber.

Barely able to suppress the urge to wake his brother loudly, Dean decided to take a look around the hotel and see if there was a way to relax. The only way to forget about all the evil that happened in his life, was to get wasted and laid.

Delirium and dames… Yup, no better way to get through a lonely night than the combination of those two.

After pulling the shirt down over his head, Dean dropped the towel from his waist onto the pale floor. Bare butted he retrieved the boxers he'd already lain out on his bed and wrenched them over his muscular legs, wrapping up his tight buns while he was already breaking into a sweat again. Pretty soon his jeans covered up his legs entirely. The gun tucked behind his waistband added the final touch and finally made him feel dressed completely.

One last stare over his shoulder at Sam, and Dean closed the door to their room behind him.


Her mind is Tiffany-twisted,
She got the Mercedes Benz,
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys
she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard,
Sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember,
Some dance to forget

Wandering through the corridors of the hotel, Dean couldn't help but notice the flickering lights that surrounded him and the voices that kept whispering to him, like they'd done before.

Man, I desperately need to relax. Ignoring the lights, ignoring the voices… Those freaking ghosts will still be dead tomorrow anyway. Besides, College Boy went out like a light, and without the Research Department I kinda feel amputated. Since I'm planning on using *all* my parts tonight, the hunt's off. Well, the hunt's on, but for something nice, soft and feminine, something like…

A slender looking brunette revealed her perfect teeth in an enticing smile, long thick hair cascading over her bare shoulders. Hugging her tiny but curvy figure, the red halter dress made her glow like a lighthouse amidst the otherwise colourless courtyard.

Surrounded by quite a few admirers, the girl was obviously enjoying herself, wrapping the men around her slender finger.

"Oh, I simply *love* Tiffany's!" Patting one of the men's shoulders, the girl's eyes beamed with enthusiasm when she spoke.

When the song 'Lady in Red' by Chris de Burgh echoed through the sultry summer air, one of the men took her hand and guided her towards the centre of the courtyard. No doubt he was hoping to have a chance on seducing her with his dancing skills. The scent of sweet summer sweat penetrated Dean's nostrils, but it wasn't the gross kind of sweat, no, it was the musky, tantalizing kind.

I wonder if she's dancing with the guy to remember a beautiful, loving night with someone special, or maybe to forget about her crappy, everyday life, just like me. But, the way she's dressed to kill, tells me she's looking for a good time.

Lurking from the shadows, leaning against the doorpost, Dean observed the girl carefully. He would love to push her long hair aside, and gently brush his lips along her neckline.

His green eyes slowly travelled over her body, appraising the view of her long, slim legs all the way down until his stare reached her killer heels. Swallowing away a lump in his throat, Dean's thoughts revolved around one thing only for a moment.

Fuck, she could do some serious damage to some poor, unsuspecting bloke, with those heels…

She looked dangerous, beautiful, independent and classy at the same time. All in all, she was *exactly* his type and he was gonna make damn sure she knew it before the evening was over.

I wonder if the classic Merc outside belongs to her, she seems a hell of a lot brighter and more tasteful than those toy boys anyway.

When the girl and guy broke their dance off at the last tones off the song, Dean stepped out of the safety of his hiding place and strolled across the courtyard to make his move.

"So, what's up with all the pretty boys?" He asked her.

"Pretty boys? Oh, they're just friends, you know." Impossibly green eyes travelled over Dean's face and body, while the girl's head nodded slightly approving.

Granting the girl an unabashed smirk, Dean was well aware of his victory when she stared him in the eye. Sometimes it bummed him out that all he had to do was look at them and they'd give in to him. It even surprised him at times when girls *didn't* fall for his appearance, or charms even.

Call me cocky, call me confident, but the ladies dig me and it comes in damn handy sometimes!

"Duvessa." The girl held out her hand to make Dean's acquaintance.

"Dean. And the pleasure's all mine, I can assure you that." Practically undressing her with his eyes, Dean felt almost sorry he had to let go of her hand.

Strawberry red lips formed themselves into a surprised 'O' before curling into a mischievous grin again. "Why you…"

Pouting his curvy lips, Dean melted at the spot at the sound of her Southern drawl, he was a sucker for accents. For a moment he closed his eyes to pray to a God he didn't even believe in anymore after all the evil he'd witnessed in his life.

Damn…Most Southern women are quite feisty, I'm gonna have my hands full on this one tonight, if I'm right. Please God, let me be right… Please? I swear I'll help ya get rid of those evil suckers, if you just let me be right tonight.

Ready to make his move, Dean cooked up his game-plan.

I'll flash her a charming smile, give her a few compliments, look her deep in the eye and BAM! She's mi-

"So Dean, how about we continue this up in my room?" Blood red fingernails followed the line of his masculine jaws, while her strawberry red lips hovered only inches away from his sculpted mouth, driving him crazy with desire. Eyeing Dean over her shoulder, Duvessa hip rocked her way out of the courtyard, beckoning Dean to follow her with her index finger.

What the fuck just happened here? Damn, she's quick! Normally, this is the part where *I* sweep them off their feet and lure them into my bed…This is too easy, even for me! Yeah well, whatever.

Oh…and um, thank you God, you know, for letting me be right.

Playfully, Dean winked up at the sky to who- or whatever had granted him his wish, clicked his tongue and hurried after his temptress before she had a change of heart.


So I called up the Captain
"Please bring me my wine"
He said, "We haven't had that spirit here
Since nineteen sixty-nine"
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say…

Following Duvessa's unbelievably perfect butt through the corridors, Dean was too distracted to notice the flickering lights around them. His mind was too busy taking in the view that his eyes gladly feasted on. A coy smile adorned her face when she opened up the door to her room and let Dean in. Cautiously, he took a few steps inside the room and inspected the surroundings. Her room was just as crappy as theirs, but thankfully he wasn't here to enjoy the lack of scenery plastered on the walls. Closing the door behind him, Dean's eyes lingered on Duvessa who was taking her earrings off.

"Make yourself comfortable, okay? Oh, and order us some wine, if you will. I'll be right back." Her Southern drawl was accompanied by an innocent but provocative stare and drove Dean over the edge.

Disappearing into the bathroom, Duvessa left Dean no choice but to wait for his turn. Trying to distract himself and kill the waiting time, he decided to call up the reception and order some wine like Duvessa asked him to.

"Yeah, this is room… um… Fuck, I don't even know the room number of this--"

"Don't worry sir, we're able to trace the call back to your room number. May I be of assistance to you?" A voice on the other side of the line spoke to Dean politely.

"Yeah, can you send up some wine or something?"

"We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty-nine. But we've got a special drink for you, sir. It's on the house. We'll send someone along shortly."

Welcome to the Hotel California,
Such a lovely place, (Such a lovely place) Such a lovely face
They're livin' it up at the Hotel California,
What a nice surprise, (What a nice surprise) Bring your alibis

Before Dean had a chance to answer the man on the other end of the line, the line became static. Through the static's, Dean could clearly make out the whispering female voices he'd heard earlier today in the corridors.

"Welcome to the Hotel California, such a lovely place, such a lovely face."
"They're livin' it up at the Hotel California, what a nice surprise, bring your alibis."

"What the fuck?" Staring at the phone hook in his hand, Dean startled when a soft knock at the door was audible. "Damn, that's fast!"

Jumping up, he tossed the hook back on the phone and got to his feet to open up the door.

"Your drink, sir, compliments from the hotel. Enjoy." Bowing gracefully, an elderly man rolled a cart through the doorway, turned on his heels and left swiftly but silently again.


Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice, and she said:
"We are all just prisoners here,
Of our own device
."

Staring at the ceiling, Dean discovered Duvessa's room had one perk to theirs: there were mirrors on the ceiling. Raising his eyebrow approvingly, he imagined their entangled bodies staring back down at them.

Doubled pleasure, thanks to our reflections just a few feet above us.

Picking up the bottle from its cooler, surprise settled on Dean's face for a moment. Its contents looked suspiciously like *pink* champagne.

"No way I'm drinking this Barbie-crap! She's gotta imprison me inside the room first."

Putting the bottle back inside its cooler, Dean looked up in the direction of the bathroom when he heard Duvessa's Southern drawl articulate again in the most seductive way.

"We're all just prisoners here, aren't we? Of our own device." Hip rocking, Duvessa came out of the bathroom dressed in nothing but a short, flaming red baby doll and black scarf.

"Oh yeah, darlin', couldn't agree with ya more. We build our own prisons alright… But by the looks of it, you could definitely set me free." Tugging at the neckline of his shirt, Dean tried to cool himself down a little from the hot flashes she sent soaring through his body.

Damn, her name should've been 'Sexy on Legs' instead of Duvessa.

"How 'bout I tie you up first, darlin'?" Ambling over to Dean, Duvessa seized one end of the black scarf, its silky fabric slithered down from her neck.

"Bring it on babe, bring it on!" Ignoring the little voice in the back of his head warning him this could be some sort of trap, Dean got rid of his T-shirt as fast as humanly possible.

Hugging Dean's stripped trunk with her scarf, Duvessa's intense red lips sought out Dean's sinfully sculpted ones in a subtle kiss. Eagerly, he answered her kiss with a kiss of his own. Crashing his lips onto hers forcefully, he thrust his tongue inside her hot, wet mouth to finally be able to clench his thirst for her.

Oh fuck, she tastes so sweet and so good it's almost evil. I can't wait to taste *all* of her…

Unable to stop her, Duvessa pushed a backwards staggering Dean to the bed, while their lips and tongues kept teasing and probing each the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, Dean couldn't keep his balance and fell onto the bed, face up. Straddling him, Duvessa clutched his wrists one by one and used her scarf to tie them to the metal bars of the bed's iron head end.

"Oh man, you're wicked." The rush Dean felt at being left to the mercy of his potential lover, turned him on very hard. The downside hit him just as fast though.

Fuck, I wanna touch her!

"You have no idea..." Boring her eyes deep into his, green melted into green with the golden shine of liquid passion.

Watching every move she made, Dean waited helplessly for her to make her next step. Sitting upright, her eyes unlocked themselves from Dean's when she reached beside the bed. Picking up the bottle of champagne, she poured them two tall glasses of the pink bubbly liquid.

"Sit up, and have a drink with me, Dean." Squatting, so Dean could wriggle himself upwards a little, Duvessa held out the drink.

"Thanks, I'm not that into champagne." Shaking his head, Dean curled up his lip.

Especially not the Barbie kind.

"Oh come on, just a few sips. For little ol' me?"

Whether it was her Southern drawl, pleading eyes or his submissive position that did it, Dean caved in big time. "What the hell. Bring it on."

Dangling the pink bubbly right underneath Dean's nose, Duvessa brought the rim of the glass in sync with Dean's luscious lips. Tilting the glass back slightly, she poured the girly looking drink through his firm, perfectly chiselled mouth opening in dosed nips.

Hmmm, doesn't taste so bad after all…

When the glass had been emptied, Duvessa's face curled into a big smile.

"Good boy. Now, let's have some fun, shall we?"


Awakened by his own snoring, Dean shot up and adjusted his eyes to the light. Though he woke up in a different room almost every single day, he still felt disoriented when he opened his eyes. The bed beside him was empty, but that was a sight he was used to by now. Dean would usually go out for a drink and preferably a quick lay, while Sam was catching up on his sleep.

Yawning and unfolding his limbs, a quick glance at his watch told Sam it was almost three a.m. Before he actually had time to wonder whether or not he should go out and make sure Dean was safe, sleep took his brain and body over again. Curled up on the bed, Sam nodded off into a restless sleep, plagued by nightmares about Jessica once more.


Rays of sun seeping through the worn down, once velvety curtains playfully touched Dean's face. Feeling slightly hung over, Dean squinted his eyes against the bright lights that awakened him so brutally. Confused, he tried to recollect the night before.

Where the fuck am I? Man, my head hurts!

Trying to stop the pounding of his brain, Dean placed the palm of his hand against his forehead when he heard a familiar Southern drawl coming from the bathroom.

"It's the champaign, don't worry darlin'. I've got just the remedy for that."

Completely naked, not displaying the slightest feeling of awkwardness or insecurity, Duvessa popped back into Dean's sight and greeted him like a purring kitten. "Morning."

Wow, she looks damn hot… God, it's a shame I can't remember what the hell happened last night!

"Mornin'…" Dean's voice skipped and sounded kind of scratchy. Curling up one of end of his mouth, he gave her an approving grin. He rested his cheek on his knuckles and bent his arm down to lean on an elbow. "So… That was a hell of a ride yesterday…"

Oh man I hope she's gonna let me know what went down here! I'm such an *idiot*!

"It sure was, darlin'. You're *all* man, that's for sure." Slowly striding over to the bed where Dean lay watching her, Duvessa swung the thick locks of hair -obscuring her chest from Dean's vision- back in a confident move.

Her tits are perfect! Wow, down boy!

Trying not to come off too willing, Dean bit his knuckles excruciatingly fierce to suppress his lust. He wasn't sure what they did last night and didn't want to risk a punch in the face.

Sitting down on the bed beside him, Duvessa poured him another glass of the pink bubbly and held it out. "Drink this. It's gonna cure your hangover, trust me."

Furrowing his brow, Dean eyed the glass like it was some kind of poison. "Look, it's not my habit to start drinking first thing in the morni--"

"One sip, I promise that'll make the pain go away. Please?" Interrupting him, Duvessa pouted her strawberry red lips and batted her eyelashes, beseeching Dean to take a sip.

Something tells me I shouldn't, but hey, how can I resist those lips, those eyes, that body?

After emptying the pink bubbly drink in one big swig, Dean wiped his luscious lips clean with the back of his hand. Almost instantaneously his headache disappeared. "Wow, good stuff indeed. My headache's gone!"

"I'd never lie to you, Dean, I just couldn't."

Seizing the empty glass from Dean's hand, Duvessa put it beside the bed and crawled over to Dean on knuckles and knees. Long dark locks of hair tickled his burly chest as her face edged closer to his. When her lips were inches away from his, Dean encircled her tiny waist with his hands and flipped her over so he was hovering over her.

"How 'bout some of those little lies, you know, the sexy kind?" With a husky voice Dean whispered into her ear, his plump lips brushing over her soft skin.

"Every sexy thing I could think of to say to you would be true, sugar." Now it was her turn to brush her silky soft lips over his ear whilst using her Southern pronunciation.

What a woman…


End of part I

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