Authors' Note – Thank you to everyone who has read and/ or reviewed so far.
Episode Three – Part One
'Save Our Souls'
x-x-x
San Diego, California
May 18th 2011
With five restaurants, four swimming pools, an open air cinema, theatre, and ocean view gym, the Apollo was one of the largest and most breathtaking ships belong to the Starling Cruise Line.
Squinting against the bright Californian sunshine, Sam Winchester peered up at the upper most deck of the ship and grinned in anticipation. The last time Sam had been on a trip that even half way resembled a vacation was in college and, although not a vacation in the strictest sense of the word, Sam could not deny that he was looking forward to travelling all-expenses paid on a luxury cruise.
Dean and Jo followed behind dragging their luggage as Sam stepped onto the gangplank, and eagerly boarded the ship. He seemed unconcerned by the fact that the other passengers milling around them were mostly retired married couples, shuffling along hand in hand. The three young hunters were conspicuous in their presence to say the least.
Whilst Sam was excited by the prospect of a fortnight sailing the Mexican coast, Dean and Jo were viewing the excursion with dread. However, they all recognised that an actual paid hunt was too rare of an opportunity to overlook.
A little more than a week before, Bobby had been contacted by a friend of a friend who was somehow connected to the CEO of the cruise line. It seemed that recent events had caused considerable panic on board the Apollo and the owners were looking for a speedy and effective solution to their apparently supernatural woes.
Hence, Sam, Dean and Jo were now boarding the cruise and awaiting further instruction as to the nature of the ship's paranormal malaise. Ever the conscientious researcher, Sam had first set about looking up the ship's passenger history; he had been confused to find little or no mention of any incidents that might be looked upon with suspicion. A tragic drowning on the ship's maiden voyage had admittedly marred the vessel's early years, yet he could find nothing further suggestive of what they were likely facing.
Of course, Dean had been none too impressed with the secrecy concerning the job, and had proceeded to pack almost every weapon they owned. His philosophy was that if they were 'pissing in the dark', they should at least be ready for any eventuality.
Jo had been the only one of the three hunters not to voice her opinion on the matter. Sam presumed that this was perhaps because her thoughts were focused elsewhere. Before they had returned from the recent Jorogumo hunt, the newly employed barman at the roadhouse had resigned, taking with him several bottles of Cuervo and a crate of Johnnie Walker. It seemed that a fight had broken out in the bar during Jo's absence and, having suffered a broken nose courtesy of a poorly aimed punch, the guy had decided to cut and run, helping himself to a generous amount of liquor as compensation. To say that Jo was pissed was an understatement. Dean had never seen her quite so furious as when she had come home to discover the roadhouse closed up and the cellar minus a few hundred dollars worth of booze. As exhausted as she had been from the hunt, Jo had been set on hopping in the Impala and hunting the guy down to unleash her wrath. It had taken both Dean and Sam to dissuade her from that particular course of action; although, as they had swept up broken glass and splintered wood from the floor of the bar well into the early hours of the morning, the boys had begun to wonder why they had bothered.
As of yet, Jo's search for a new, more trustworthy barman had proven unsuccessful, and she had been forced to leave Bobby holding down the fort for the time being. Although Dean had insisted that Jo could sit the hunt out if she preferred, Sam knew that his brother's assurances had been for Jo's benefit only; Dean slept far sounder with Jo in his arms. It was both refreshing and bizarre for Sam to witness, but he was above all thrilled that his brother had finally found someone he could allow himself to love.
"I hope you guys don't get sea sick," Jo said, finally breaking the companionable silence that had lasted for the best part of the journey to the docks. Dean glanced at his girlfriend, his expression bordering on amused before he replied.
"Wouldn't know, never been on a ship," he answered, tapping the wall of the corridor for emphasis as he ducked into a doorway. "And, it's not a plane, so things are looking good so far."
Dean dropped back in an act of unusual chivalry, and a slightly suspicious expression crossed Jo's features as she drifted past him. Sam frowned as he noted that Dean's eyes had flitted from Jo to an elderly passenger loitering near the stairwell. The old man was smiling to himself and it did not take long for Sam to realise that his gaze and lewd grin were directed at Jo's retreating form.
"You know, that could be you in fifty years time," Sam observed with a smirk. He hefted his baghigher onto his shoulder and strolled off ahead, leaving Dean to face off with his geriatric rival.
"Hey grandpa!" Dean called out, snapping his fingers to attract the old man's attention. He shook his head and glowered before strolling off to catch up with Jo.
"So, did they put us in steerage or are we gonna be rowing with the other slaves?" Dean asked, watching as Jo removed a crumpled letter from her back pocket.
"Huh?" she frowned, glancing intently at the check-in letter she held.
"Never mind," Dean sighed, not loving how preoccupied Jo appeared to be at the moment. The kind of levels of distraction she had been displaying of late could prove fatal on a hunt, and Dean found himself wishing that she had elected to stay home this time after all.
After disappearing into the small crowd in order to collect their room keys, Jo returned minutes later and handed a plastic card over to Sam. She was wearing an obvious frown, the bridge of her nose crinkled in a tell tale fashion.
"I think they got our room arrangements mixed up," she explained, shooting Dean a glance, "you and Sam are in room 230 and I got room 236. I guess it's single beds all round."
"Aw man," Dean groaned, glaring at Sam as though the error were in fact all his fault. Sam's eyes widened and his mouth pressed into a bewildered line.
"What did I do?" he demanded as Dean stormed ahead down the corridor. Jo hid a smile and simply reached up to pat Sam sympathetically on the shoulder.
With a thoroughly theatrical sigh, Dean jammed the key card into the lock, waiting impatiently for the light to turn green, and then strode into the room. He ignored the elaborate decor, complimentary gift basket, and the feature balcony window to instead focus with raging disapproval on the twin beds.
"Wow, nice cabin," Sam breathed, clearly impressed. The gleaming, modern decor was a welcome break from the cheap motel rooms they had endured over the years and Sam intended to relish every minute. Dean shrugged, unwilling to acknowledge the truth within Sam's words as his irritation refused to ebb away. He turned sharply as Jo appeared at his side in order to lean against his shoulder.
"Nice rooms," she remarked, catching the disinterested sniff Dean emitted.
"Seriously," Sam agreed as he dropped his bag down onto the farthest bed and surveyed the cabin. He ran the fingertips of one hand experimentally across the bed sheets, finding himself embarrassingly excited by their luxuriously soft feel.
"Well, we got an hour until we've got to meet the cruise director," Jo stated, lifting Dean's wrist so as to glance down at his watch, "I don't know about you guys but I think I'm gonna take a nap... in my nice, big double bed."
Jo could not contain the teasing grin on her face as she arched an eyebrow in Dean's direction and began to saunter out of the cabin. Dean almost visibly deflated.
"This sucks," Dean griped, slamming the door behind Jo and throwing his bag down onto the unclaimed bed.
"So not even the all you can eat buffet meals will cheer you up?" Sam inquired with feigned innocence and a quirked brow. Dean shrugged; his expression was sulky like a petulant child, bringing a smirk to Sam's lips readily.
"Maybe," Dean replied with a sniff after an interval. Sam turned his back on his older brother in order to better disguise his amusement, and began to unpack his few belongings into the top drawer of the dresser that stood nearby.
"So what details do we know already?" asked Sam as he placed balled up socks and perfectly pressed boxer shorts into the drawer, smoothing any wrinkles that had appeared in the material during transit.
Dean huffed and dropped down onto the bed, watching with evident disdain as Sam continued to unpack an array of carefully laundered and pressed clothing.
"Dude, you ironed your underwear?" Dean shook his head and then leant back against his pillows, scrutinising the ceiling as he finally opted to address Sam's question.
"Nothing... zilch... nada... squat," he supplied, evoking a deep sigh from Sam as he slammed the drawer closed.
"Helpful Dean, real helpful." Sam sat down on the edge of his own bed and retrieved his laptop. He stabbed at the power button and waited for the WiFi signal to be detected.
"Yeah, well I'm not in a real 'thinking' mood right now, Sammy," Dean scowled, lacing his hands behind his head. Sam deliberated over digging any further but eventually found that his natural curiosity got the better of him.
"Did you guys have a fight?" He winced as he prepared himself for the irritable reply he felt sure was headed his way.
Instead however, Dean merely frowned and shook his head, "No. I mean... I don't think we did. Jo's been acting all kinds of crazy lately. She's distracted. I'm kind of worried about her."
Sam nodded in understanding, and glanced from the laptop screen to his brother, "You thought of asking what's bothering her?"
Although the solution seemed obvious enough to Sam, he wondered if someone who could be as emotionally stunted as Dean had contemplated the idea. Sensing his brother's gaze upon him, Dean shrugged off the seriousness of the moment and sat upright on the edge of the bed, signaling an end to the discussion. Knowing all too well that any attempts to investigate further would be met with hostility, Sam decided to let the matter go for the moment.
"Kind of like old times, huh?" Sam smiled slightly at the fact they were once again sharing a room but Dean greeted the sentiment with an amused chuckle.
"No offense Sammy boy, but it's not your smiling face I like to look at when I wake up," Dean retorted with an air of derision that was hard to miss.
"Thanks dude," Sam muttered, beginning to inflict his irritation upon the laptop as he stabbed viciously at the keyboard. "I'm going to go through the ship's passenger history again, see what I can dig up."
"Fine," was Dean's curt reply as he dropped backwards onto the bed and closed his eyes, deciding that Jo's idea of a snatching a nap had been a good one.
"Maybe you could work on being less of a prissy bitch," Sam sniped as his fingers clicked away quickly.
The only response he was met with this time was the pointed extension of Dean's middle finger.
x-x-x
As Sam stared into the depths of the swimming pool the conversation being conducted around him merely drifted over his head without him fully comprehending a word of it. There was something so oddly hypnotising about the soft slosh of the water against the marble sides of the pool, and Sam took an almost tentative step forwards. He lowered his body into a crouch and peered hard into the water, his eyes finding and locking onto the intricate engravings that decorated both the walls and the bottom.
"I won't lie," Jack Collins stated with a barely detectable curl of his lip, "I'm not exactly thrilled for you guys to be playing 'Ghostbusters' in the middle of our busiest season. But Mr. Starling insists you be here so I have to indulge the old fool."
Dean swept his gaze over the surly cruise director and arched an eyebrow, "Hey... Jack? Can I call you Jack? We're professionals, okay? So how about you tell us why your boss dragged our asses across four states and fill us in on your little problem."
Jack visibly blanched and cleared his throat, folding his arms across his chest as he gestured toward the pool.
"Well, it would appear that this... area has been host to some rather unfortunate events over the years," he began carefully.
"Define an 'unfortunate event'," Jo narrowed her eyes, mirroring the man's stance as she crossed her arms and regarded him closely.
The cruise director sighed, appearing hesitant to continue, and he licked his lips almost nervously, "There have been a few drowning, although I would like to add that all of them can be explained logically and rationally."
"Why don't you let us be the judge of that," said Dean with a patronising grin, gesturing for Jack to continue.
"You know about the accident on the ship's maiden voyage?" He watched as Sam nodded in confirmation. "There have been four other deaths over the years, the second in 1971, then 1981, 1991 and 2001, all drowning victims, all in this pool and..." he swallowed uncomfortably, "all have happened within a specific time frame, around the anniversary of the maiden voyage."
"So why investigate the ship now?" Jo demanded, reasoning that there was clearly more to this story than had already been imparted.
Jack glanced behind him at the subtly rippling water and a frown settled on his lips, "Because there was a sixth drowning last week, the day before the ship's re-launching gala."
"Who's the lucky stiff?" Dean enquired, watching the man visibly squirm before them.
"Mr. Starling's son." Jack avoided their gazes and shoved his hands into his pockets, "Now, as I already told you, please keep your... investigations... to this area. I don't want the other passengers to even know you exist. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," Dean smiled charmingly, rubbing his hands together as he glanced first at Sam and then Jo in turn, "alright, you heard the man... let's strap on those proton packs and start blasting us some ghosts."
Jack shot Dean a dubious glare before turning on his heel and marching out of the pool room, all the while muttering under his breath. Dean could only guess that whatever the man was saying, it was far from complimentary. Jo watched him leave through narrowed eyes and Dean could see her dislike for the director spelled out plainly in her expression.
"What an ass-wipe," she growled, flicking her hair over her shoulder and turning her attention to the swimming pool. She cocked her head to one side as she watched Sam, who was reaching out a hand to the surface of the water. However, the hunter seemed to think better of his gesture at the last minute, and withdrew his arm hurriedly before his fingers made contact.
"You found something Sammy?" Dean inquired, kneeling down at Sam's side and squinting as he peered to the bottom of the pool. Sam shook his head wordlessly then shrugged. It was clear to Dean from the thoughtful look that lingered in Sam's eyes that his mind was working overtime on something or other.
"Those pictures..." Sam began, gesturing to the carvings on the side of the pool that appeared to depict strange black, swimming shadow figures. "They just look sort of familiar."
Dean afforded the images a second glance. He shook his head as he failed to recognise the etchings upon the tiles and stood up from his stooping position.
"So, I guess we wait until dark and stay here tonight?" Jo shrugged, planting her hand on her hip and tapping her fingers absently against her side.
"Yep," Dean nodded, peering through the porthole windows and grinning as he watched a group of senior citizens who had gathered on the deck outside, "so, who's for a rousing game of shuffleboard?"
Jo chuckled, running her hands through her hair as she stifled a yawn, "No thanks, too much excitement for me. Think I'm gonna head back to my room for a while."
"Me too," Sam nodded, "I'm gonna see what I can dig up about the other drownings here, find out if any of the other victims had anything in common."
Dean jammed his hands in his pockets and scuffed his foot along the tiles at the poolside.
Jo rolled her eyes and extended her hand toward him, "You waiting for a written invitation, Winchester?"
Dean's eyes visibly lit up and Sam watched, amused, as Jo and Dean wandered out of the pool room hand in hand. As they reached the doorway, Dean's arm snaked around Jo's waist and her head came to rest in a familiar spot on his shoulder.
Finding himself alone, Sam turned back to the water and, for the briefest of moments, was certain that beneath the surface something large had stirred.
x-x-x
Jo let out a low murmur of contentment as Dean's fingers worked their magic on her tense shoulders. She had to admit that he was a master at giving massages and, having apparently noted her bad mood of late, was a lot more forthcoming with them. Jo tipped her neck to one side, allowing Dean access to the smooth skin of her shoulder blade. Although his hands were somewhat rough and calloused from two decades of abuse, they worked out the knots in Jo's body perfectly and always felt wonderful grazing her bare skin.
Jo emitted another quiet groan of pleasure and, with a smile, Dean dropped a kiss against the crown of her head.
"So," he began, clearing his throat before continuing, "is there even the slightest chance you're gonna tell me what's been eating you the last few days?"
Jo sagged a little, glad that she was currently lying on her stomach with Dean kneeling up behind her on the bed, thereby proving it impossible for him to see the sorrow that crossed her features.
"And don't tell me it's nothing, okay?" Dean added, "I'm the master of denial, so... out with it, what'd I do?" He stretched out beside her, his face clearly betraying his underlying anxiety.
Jo smiled and rolled over to face him, "You didn't do anything, Dean."
Relief washed over his features, and Dean reached out to sweep hair from Jo's face, "Okay, so this whole 'relationship' thing is kind of new to me and I don't want to screw this up, Jo. So if something's bothering you, you gotta tell me what it is."
"This is all new to me too," she agreed, smiling apologetically, "but these last eight months have been really... good."
She avoided his gaze and smiled shyly, almost as uncomfortable with discussing her feelings as Dean.
"Good?" he repeated, smirking as he playfully pinched her waist. Jo laughed and slid her hand up his chest before she leant in and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that assured him that she had been understating her feelings. Dean smiled as she pulled away, drawing her back toward him and repeating the kiss before he allowed her to resettle herself in his arms.
"So," he coaxed, "if it's not about you and me, then..."
Jo groaned, biting down on her bottom lip. She had hoped that their kiss would prove distracting enough to veer Dean away from the subject of her fears.
"I just... It's stupid, I know, but... all this stuff lately at home is really stressing me out," she confessed, waiting a few seconds before she glanced up to meet his gaze.
"That's not stupid," he shrugged, gathering her closer and wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head on his chest, "but, we'll hire someone else, we'll figure it out. And until we do, Bobby's all over it."
"What if I can't? Figure it out, I mean?" she asked quietly, her hand wandering over his chest and pausing to toy with the stitching on his collar.
"Hey, you got me and Sammy in this too," Dean reminded her as his arms embraced her in reassurance.
Jo's voice dropped to little more than a whisper as she confessed, "I just don't want to let my Mom down, Dean."
"That could never happen, Jo," said Dean with such assurance that Jo was immediately taken aback. Gently, he cupped her face in his hands and tipped her chin so that their eyes collided. Jo found herself holding her breath as she stared into the abyss of perfect emerald green.
"Ellen loved you more than anything in this world," he promised, "the only way you could let her down, is to make yourself unhappy. She wanted you to live, not to just go through the motions. Ease up on yourself a little, okay?"
Jo gave a brief nod and Dean smoothed one palm across her cheek before sliding it upwards in order to run his fingers through her hair.
"Thank you," said Jo, a smile settling on her lips, "I can always count on you, huh?"
"Better believe it sweetheart," answered Dean in a heartbeat, winking as an afterthought which caused Jo to dissolve into giggles.
"My white knight," she teased, inching closer to Dean and brushing the tip of her nose against his. He shrugged, a slight jerk of his shoulders that somehow managed to tug his features into a serious expression.
"The armour's a little tarnished," he murmured, his eyes downcast for a fraction of a second.
"That's okay," she soothed, tracing her fingertip over the frown line that had suddenly appeared on his face, "in case you haven't noticed Winchester, I kind of like you as you are."
Dean sighed happily as her hand swept down his cheek and jaw. Her touch was soft and soothing; the one that Dean had been missing most of his life.
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, you know that?" he asked, managing to contain his discomfort at how sappy he was beginning to sound. The smile that suddenly illuminated her features made his momentary discomfort entirely worthwhile and he held her in his arms that little bit tighter in response.
"I know," she nodded, shrieking with laughter as he rolled her underneath him and chuckled at her self-assurance.
"Hey, I'm trying to be serious here," he widened his eyes, imploring her to do likewise.
"Sorry," she repented, affixing him with a more serious expression, although she was unable to fully wipe all traces of amusement from her face.
Dean tutted in mock disdain, "You're a pain in the ass sometimes, Harvelle."
His eyes searched hers as the light tone of their conversation became suddenly more intimate.
"But you love me anyway," she stated, her arms encircling his neck.
"God help me, but I do," he acknowledged, pressing a brief yet tender kiss against her lips as he added, "more than anything."
Her eyes remained closed and she slid her hand around the back of his neck whilst he nuzzled her cheek. Inclining her head to claim his lips once more, she brushed her thumb over the shell of his ear and paused momentarily to reply in kind.
"I love you too."
x-x-x
The Apollo had set sail hours ago, and Sam had found it both strange and unnerving when nightfall had descended with nothing around them but deep, dark water. Sam could swim just fine but there was something about not being able to see to the bottom of the ocean that had always made him somewhat nervous. The Neptune pool aboard the Apollo gave him the same niggling feeling of unease and Sam was being careful not to turn his back on the water as he set up the equipment for the night.
The hunters sat in fold out chairs on the side of the pool, their shotguns loaded with rock salt and laid across their knees, whilst a host of hi-tech equipment stood at their side. The needle on the EMF metre had not so much as twitched in the hour that the trio had been stationed in their posts, and they were quickly growing bored with their watch.
"Tell me again what you found Sammy?" Dean inquired, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "Cos I'm beginning to think this little stake out is nothing but a big fat waste of time."
"Six bodies found in the pool since the ship's maiden voyage in 1961, all falling in ten year cycles within ten days of the initial launch date," Sam intoned boredly, leaning back in his chair and stretching his aching legs out in front of him. "Not all causes of death were ruled as drowning, all the victims were different genders, and ages... no common denominators I could see. I just can't connect the dots on this one."
"Well, maybe we should start with the first victim," Jo suggested, crossing her legs and shifting the weight of her shotgun. "Someone died the night the ship first sailed, right?"
Sam nodded, fishing in his top pocket and retrieving a wad of notes he had hastily compiled earlier.
"Elizabeth Rothschild. Twenty six years old, married to Franklyn Rothschild, heir to some insurance empire," he shook his head and passed Jo the papers, "witnesses say they had some pretty nasty fights and their maid gave a statement to the cops not long after the accident about how Mr. Rothschild was kind of handy with his fists."
Jo grimaced in evident disdain and skimmed the newspaper article that relayed the events shortly after Elizabeth's death.
"Cops linked the husband to the murder, but they didn't have anything to pin it on him. Guy hired some hot shot lawyer and the thing never went to trial," Sam supplied, watching as Jo handed Dean the clippings and glanced over toward the pool area, a shudder running up her spine.
"Accidental drowning," Dean nodded, narrowing his eyes as he stared down at the photograph of the sombre couple, "you think she's our girl? Vengeful spirit?"
"Maybe," Sam said, his tone tinged with doubt. "But why kill so many innocent people, some who weren't even born when she died?"
"I guess a vengeful spirit is more likely to target people related to the murderer," Dean conceded, although his teeth were gritted against his words as though the very idea annoyed him. It was evident that Dean was eager to at least identify the object of their hunt, or indeed if their presence aboard the Apollo was even necessary.
"What about the second victim?" Jo attempted, taking a swig from a bottle of mineral water at her side. She passed the bottle to Dean who pressed it to his lips and drank deeply. The heat in the swimming pool was truly intolerable, and all three of the hunters had stripped down to simply jeans and their undershirts. Jo's blonde hair was plastered to her forehead, and Dean could feel trickles of sweat coursing down the nape of his neck.
"1971, a guy by the name of Joseph Macdonell," said Sam, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead and grimacing. "Took over his father's company in '68 then made a string of bad deals that sent the whole firm into administration. It was explained away as a suicide."
"Maybe it's him," Dean suggested, "unfinished business, or an angry poltergeist."
"Victim number three?" Jo queried, sagging back against her chair and blowing out a steady puff of breath as the she found the heat growing unbearable.
"Uh..." Sam floundered, flipping through the press cuttings and brushing his hair from his eyes as the heat matted his bangs to his forehead, "okay, George Abercombe in 1981. Partner in a big ass law firm out in LA; type A personality, overweight, stress levels off the chart... coroner said the guy had a heart attack."
"Another accidental drowning," Dean sighed, leaning his head back against his chair.
"The victims have nothing in common at all?" Jo asked, wearing a frown that mirrored Dean's. She pulled her hair hastily into a ponytail, and secured it with an elastic band she produced from her pocket.
Sam shook his head and shrugged, "No, the vic. in 1991 was just a kid. Brittany Cooper, only three years old."
"What about the parents?" Dean asked, taking another large gulp of water before offering it to Sam.
Sam gratefully accepted the bottle and paused before taking a mouthful, "They said she wandered away from the cabin, staff searched the whole ship and found her here in the pool."
"Poor kid," Jo said, frowning into the depths of the water and finding nothing but her own reflection staring back at her. "What about the last one in 2001, before Starling's son?"
"Roger Hopkiss," read Sam, ignoring Dean's smirk at the somewhat comical name. "He was hired by the cruise line to film a promotional video. He was found floating face down in the pool complete with a gaping head wound. Had too much to drink, decided to go for a moonlight swim, and banged his head. Ruled an accidental death."
"Why are we even here?" Dean demanded, snatching the clippings from Sam and beginning to leaf through them rapidly as though he may find an answer printed on the pages.
"There's an undeniable pattern," admonished Sam with reluctance, "the ten year, ten day cycles. It's too much to be coincidence."
"But whatever this thing is, surely it's claimed it's victim for this decade," Jo reasoned as she tapped the most recent article regarding Mr. Starling's son for emphasis. "Call me a pessimist, but even if we do manage to somehow work out what it is killing these people, then what if we gotta wait another ten years for it reappear so we can bust it's ass?"
"Jo's right, Sammy," Dean nodded resolutely, "so unless we can find some way of baiting this thing out there's not a whole lot else we can do. Case is a bust."
Sam screwed the cap back onto the water bottle firmly. "Well, let's sit it out here tonight at least," he reasoned, not yet prepared to admit defeat.
Dean and Jo nodded in agreement and all three hunters fell into a comfortable silence as they merely gazed around the pool.
"Where was this thing built?" Dean suddenly asked, sitting up straighter in his chair and pulling his sweat stained t-shirt up and over his head. Catching a glimpse of his taught abdominal muscles, Jo's lips curved into a smile and she felt the temperature in the room climb by a few more degrees.
"Scotland," Sam replied without missing a beat, frowning as Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Why, you got an idea?"
Dean stared into the bottom of the pool, toward the carvings in the tile, "Don't know, just trying to cover all our bases. We know anything about the guy who commissioned the ship?"
Jo arched an eyebrow and continued to fan herself with her hand, "I guess this ship has been kind of unlucky from the get-go."
"Are you kidding me?" demanded Sam, suddenly turning an angry glare upon Dean that then flicked to Jo before coming back to rest upon his elder brother. Jo winced as realisation hit her.
"We were supposed to research that, weren't we?" she asked quietly, her eyes trained almost guiltily upon the floor. Sam did not answer, instead just stared in a manner that almost made Jo want to reach for the vial of holy water she always kept upon her person.
"Hey, we got distracted," Dean said defensively, licking his lips as he struggled to formulate a suitable excuse for their failure.
"I'll bet you did," drawled Sam, his tone drenched in disdain and his features a mask of disapproval. "One thing guys, one little thing. I'm disappointed."
"Sorry Sam," Jo mumbled, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she avoided Sam's gaze. Dean on the other hand, let out a rebellious snicker that did not go undetected by the younger Winchester.
He winced as Jo elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a glare that signaled he was to at least act repentant. However, despite his brother's disdain and his girlfriend's evident disapproval, Dean found it difficult to regret the more enjoyable use of their assigned 'research time'. Besides, he reasoned that after the nine arduous days of driving clear cross country to California, he and Jo were due at least a couple of hours of private time.
It had also provided them the opportunity to talk and he was glad that her fears over the running of the roadhouse had been discussed. He had not enjoyed being in the dark about her feelings, and her slightly distant mood of late had bothered him more than he cared to admit. All in all, he figured the hours they had spent together that afternoon were more than worth Sam's irritation.
Rooting through the bag beside him, Dean produced a clean t-shirt which he pulled on hurriedly. Finally relenting and, at Jo's insistent digging in the ribs, he directed a placating smile at Sam and gestured to the file sticking out of the gym bag at his feet.
"We'll hit the books later okay? You can go take a nap or whatever and we'll see what we can dig up on this tin can," Dean offered, folding his arms across his chest as Sam nodded.
"Yeah, okay," Sam agreed, shooting Jo a slightly embarrassed look. He was aware that his temper had been running a little short lately; a fact that he found himself unable to explain. "Look guys, I know you usually do your share of the book work, it's just... I guess I haven't been sleeping well lately."
Jo cleared her throat and picked up her shotgun from her lap, beginning to sidle toward the changing rooms. She hooked her thumb in the direction she was headed and tossed over her shoulder, "I'm gonna take a look out back."
Sam smiled just a little at the less than subtle departure. Dean simply nodded in understanding as he watched Jo leave.
"Be careful," he cautioned before Jo disappeared from sight, her blonde hair swinging as she departed.
"This doesn't mean we've gotta talk about our feelings now, does it?" Sam checked, watching as Dean winced in horror at the very idea.
"What do ya take me for, Sammy?" Dean said with a snort, pulling a pack of chips from the bag suddenly and tearing into them. He offered the bag first to Sam and was surprised when his brother accepted a handful.
"Sorry I've been kind of... weird lately," Sam mumbled, shoving a potato chip into his mouth and chewing on it with vigour. Dean nodded once more, tossing a handful of snacks into his own wide open maw.
"You're not possessed again, are you?" he checked through mouthfuls of chips, causing a shower of crumbs to fly from his lips and spray the front of his shirt. Sam laughed and punched Dean lightly on the top of his arm.
"Jerk," he accused, shifting in his seat as though suddenly uncomfortable. His expression grew sober and Dean paused in his task of attempting to devour his snack before Jo reappeared to relieve him of it.
"There a reason you're not sleeping well?" Dean inquired, curious.
Sam shrugged, staring down absently at the chip in his hand, "I don't know, weird dreams, I guess."
"You guess?" Dean frowned, tossing the packet of chips onto Jo's seat and rubbing his greasy hands down the legs of his jeans. Dean swallowed uncomfortably and appeared to mull over his next words, "Dreams about... uh..."
"Jess?" Sam finished his brother's hesitant sentence, "I don't know, I don't even remember them when I wake up."
Dean appeared momentarily thoughtful, staring out across the pool as he shook his head sadly.
"It was her birthday last week," Sam released a heavy hearted sigh and leant back in his chair, "maybe that's what it is. I guess she's been on my mind more than usual lately."
Sam watched as Dean opened his mouth to reply, hastily swallowing his words as he dropped his gaze to the shotgun in his lap.
"Dean, seriously, it's got nothing to do with you and Jo," Sam assured him, noting the relieved yet tight smile that Dean gifted him, "I'm happy for you guys, I mean that."
"I know you are dude," Dean answered finally. He opened his mouth to add more, however before the words came to him, a shout from the changing rooms drew their collective attentions.
Sam and Dean leapt to their feet and, clutching their shotguns high to their chests, they tore towards the changing area. Their boots slapped the slick tiles and the brothers skidded somewhat comically before rounding the corner and appearing in the doorway of the ladies' shower rooms.
"Jo!" Dean yelled hoarsely, cocking his weapon as he barreled through the swinging door and into the room. He found himself practically nose to nose with Jo, who threw both hands up in the air in surrender as the nose of Dean's gun jabbed her chest.
"Woah!" Jo cautioned eyes wide as Dean lowered his gun in the next instant.
"What the hell, Jo?" demanded Dean, his tone incredulous. "I could have shot you."
"I was yelling for ages," said Jo defensively, folding her arms and arching an eyebrow. "I could have been in real trouble and you two chuckleheads were too busy touching and sharing to hear me."
Dean cleared his throat in a self-conscious gesture, "So, you find something or were you just trying to give us heart failure?"
Jo rolled her eyes before gesturing to the floor beneath them. Sam and Dean dutifully followed the beam of her flashlight across the white tiled floor. The tiles themselves were interspaced at random with deep, green marble inserts, and the pattern continued across the room without exception.
"Take a look at this," Jo directed, walking them back toward the entrance to the pool side and bending down to pick up a piece of broken tile.
Dean knelt at her side and watched as she shone her flashlight closer to the tile edge and slotted it back into place beside the other fragment on the floor.
"Huh," Sam frowned, watching as the two pieces fitted together to form what looked a lot like an incantation.
Dean bent down next to the fractured tile and handed his own flashlight to Jo, who obligingly positioned it over his shoulder. Rummaging in his pocket for a moment, Dean produced a notepad which he then laid down next to the script in order to copy it.
"You got any ideas what that means Sam?" asked Jo, peering at the engravings with interest even as Dean copied them onto the pad.
"Well, it's not Latin," said Sam with some confidence, his cheeks colouring as he added, "but aside from that..."
Dean clambered to his feet and flipped his notepad closed before jamming it into his pocket. Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean swung his shotgun onto his shoulder and allowed it to hang there from its strap.
"Let's head back to the rooms," Dean suggested, eyeing the EMF metre hopefully and then grunting as he noted that the needle had not so much as twitched during the course of their investigation. "We can hit the books and check the cameras in the morning. Nothing's showing here tonight."
Sam and Jo both exchanged brief glances of agreement, and began to gather their scattered bags, and weapons. Within minutes the hunters were ready to leave, each exhausted and doubting the validity of the hunt that they had been employed to conduct. As they exited the pool area, Dean secured the double doors behind them with the keycard that he had been issued.
"Damn ghost hunt with no damn ghosts," Dean growled quietly, rattling the doors behind him in order to test the lock. The last thing he needed was that pompous cruise director coming down on him for neglecting to secure the pool.
He muttered his discontent under his breath all the way down the corridor, his fatigue finally beginning to get the better of him.
As the footsteps of the hunters disappeared down the long corridor, the water of the Neptune pool began to bubble and boil.
x-x-x
The toolbox hit the deck with a decisive slam as Adam Lowe stood poised before the apparently defective hot tub, hands planted on his hips. The cause of the problem seemed glaringly obvious to the maintenance technician, and he watched as the neon strings of a bikini top fluttered from the main vent. Clearly some measure of human error had contributed to this instance of mechanical failure.
"Seriously? This shit again?" he muttered to himself, as he reached toward the control panel and shut off the power. He tried to recall whether this was the seventh or eighth instance he had been called to repair one of the ship's hot tubs and found an item of clothing to be the cause of the problem. Since the passenger manifesto was largely made up of senior citizens for this trip, Adam had been hoping that such instances would have been at a minimum. His suspicions instantly fell to the wedding party on board and he made a mental note to discuss his findings with the cruise director; cavorting in public places was after all strictly prohibited.
Rolling up his sleeve, he reached into the water and yanked unceremoniously on the garment, cursing out loud as it refused to budge; it had obviously become tangled in the vent face. Muttering a string of expletives, Adam turned to rummage in the tool box, not noticing the slow bubbling that had begun beneath the surface of the water.
Holding aloft the tool he had plucked from the box, Adam knelt at the side of the hot tub and set to work unscrewing the panel. From beneath the now rippling surface, a shadow swept ominously from the depths of the water. The bubbling became suddenly more violent and Adam frowned as the steam from the boiling water suddenly bathed his cheeks.
The screwdriver fell from his hand instantly and a frenzied scream filled the gymnasium as the water rose up from the surface; the eerie shape of a grasping hand reached out and enclosed around his neck. Where disembodied fingers clutched at his throat, Adam's skin began to sizzle and peel.
Adam struggled against the phantom hand, gasping and screaming in panic before finally, his attacker overcame him and he was plunged beneath the water.
Gradually, his attempts at resistance ceased and his body rose to the surface of the now boiling water.
