Title: Moonstar
Ch. 5: Contamination
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Only get pleasure no money. Welcome to the world thru my eyes.
Summary: Dean is crashing after a string of bad jobs. One last, terrible incident pushes him over the edge. He's on a downhill slide and the Moonstar is the last place he needs to be.
A/N: This is a long one. The flow may be off a little because I had to transition from new stuff to stuff I already had written and had kind of a hard time, so if it stumbles a little forgive me. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten Dean's werewolf incident. We will get back to it. Much angst and misery to come, maybe even a little plot.
The hotel and the town I describe in this actually exist, right down to the morgue in the basement. It is supposedly haunted. It has been featured on several TV shows about hauntings. The names have been changed to protect me. I know the town well, and I've been to this hotel many times. Have roamed it from the roof to the morgue, actually, before and after it was renovated, so later on forgive me if I degress into some serious descriptions. They'll be mostly true.
Be kind, I'm sick and need to be treated gently……
Dean swallowed the last bite of syrup soaked pancake and sat back, eyes closed. He took a deep breath.
Sam watched him, smiling, spreading jelly on his last piece of toast. "Feel better now?" He bit into the toast, savoring the taste of butter and grape jam.
Dean nodded, glancing at Sam. He wiped his fingertips on the napkin, "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "I didn't realize I was so hungry."
Sam looked around for the waitress. "Do you want some more?"
Dean shook his head. "No, I'm full. You finish and we can go." He slid out of the booth. "I'll be right back." He moved in the direction of the restrooms.
Sam ate the rest of his toast and signaled the waitress for their check.
Dean was gone a long time and just about when Sam was ready to go find him he returned, holding his cell phone and looking a little grim.
Sam narrowed his eyes as Dean slid back into the booth. "What is it?'
Dean wordlessly held out the phone so that Sam could see the screen. A series of numbers marched across the tiny screen and Sam recognized for what they were. Coordinates. His heart sank and his first thought was, Shit.
Sam shook his head. "No, Dean! You promised—" he hit his fist on the table making the dishes jump.
"I talked to him, Sam," That shut Sam up. "It's a paying gig, plus room and board. Some hotel in a place called Miracle Springs. It sounded pretty simple, probably a poltergeist. I know I promised but we could use the money and it's gonna be a little while before we have a any credit card action going. This is some guy that helped Dad out when we were kids and he owes him. "
"Then let Dad do it." Sam replied, knowing it was stupid. "We need some time off. You need some time off "
Dean just gave him that LOOK. They stared at each other for a good five minutes before Sam, disgusted, finally gave up.
"Fine! But I swear to God, Dean, the minute, the instant this is done---"
"Ok, Ok, Ok. You made your point." Dean shook his head. He pocketed the cell phone.
"So where is this place?" Sam growled, still pissed.
Dean looked blank. "Hell, I don't know where we are, let alone where that place is" He ruffled his hair and yawned. The pain killers were kicking in, still short on rest and with a full stomach he was getting sleepy again." He said it was a few hours from where we—" Dean stopped dead and his eyes fell. "From the last job…" Dean swallowed. "Someone around here must know." His voice had become much softer.
Sam frowned. "Dean…" Dean's look stopped him. Sam sighed. "I'll ask at the check out. I can map it out on the laptop"
Dean flipped his hands in indifference. "Whatever," he replied. He covered another yawn. "Do you mind driving again? I can spot you in a couple hours. I don't think I can stay awake."
"No problem," Sam said, sliding out of the booth. And he didn't mind. He recognized that Dean's body was giving in to its need for rest and Dean wasn't trying to fight it, which was good. Sam'd drive all day if he had to. Sam was sorely pissed at their father, nothing new there, and at Dean for being so willing to just keep going, no matter what. Dean obviously still needed to come to some sort of grips with the happenings at the Bailey's. Maybe immersing himself in another job would help him put the last job behind him. Sam had a pretty good idea what Dean's nightmare had been about. When Dean decided to blame himself for something, his guilt complex could take on dangerously heroic proportions as Sam had witnessed in the past and saw Dean living with on a daily basis.
The woman behind the register knew of Miracle Springs. It was off season and would be very quiet but was an interesting place nonetheless. If they were looking for someplace to relax that oughta be it. She roughed out directions and highways, apparently it was well known in the area, but still several hours away. Sam thanked her and went out to the car where Dean was waiting.
Dean settled himself on the passenger side, wadding his jacket up as a pillow against the door. He still looked pensive, but it may have just been fatigue.
Sam started the engine, stopping himself as he put the car in gear.
"What's the name of this place?" Sam asked.
Dean was already half asleep and mumbled "Miracle Springs…."
"No, I mean the hotel. "
"Oh, Moonstar. Crazy name for a hotel…."
"Jesus, Sam. Where the hell is this place? The top of Mount Everest?" Dean complained, gulping when the car and his stomach suddenly dropped as the road took a sharp dip and then a 90 degree turn back up to the right. They had switched driving again after the last stop for gas.
"It said 15 miles on the last sign and that was 5 miles ago." Sam replied tensely, hands gripping the wheel. They had driven all over the country, but he was used to wide open spaces where the road didn't fall away on one side of the highway and right up a mountain on the other. The straight areas of road were barely long enough to accommodate the not inconsiderable length of the Impala before you had to turn 180 degrees again.
Unfortunately, getting to the interesting old town of Miracle Springs meant a steady climb up twisting mountain roads. Dean had awakened just as Sam pointed the Impala skyward. The last hour of driving had been one constant corkscrew of speeding up and slamming on the brakes to accommodate the twists and turns of the narrow two lane highway. Dean wished to God they hadn't stopped for breakfast before they left. The continuous swaying and stop and start motion was actually making Dean carsick, although he would have died before admitting it. Too much more of this and he was going to be hurling out of the window. He would have changed places with Sam but there was no place wide enough to pull over.
To make matters worse, the cars and trucks they met coming from the opposite direction, were tearing along at twice the speed Sam was willing to go on the unfamiliar road and several had come close to running them off. It had to be local traffic that knew the roads, although Sam couldn't imagine taking the curves at the speed most of the drivers did. The only vehicles moving with caution had out of state tags and seemed as leery of the sheer drops that presented themselves unexpectedly on either side of the road as he was.
Dean clutched the door handle as Sam swung the nose heavy Impala around yet another hairpin curve, eyes widening as the ravine on his side of the car loomed beneath him through the window. There was no shoulder and the few guard rails that existed were suggestively bent and twisted. If they went over the edge, there were so many trees below them he figured they wouldn't roll more than a few hundred feet before they crashed into them.
Sam glanced at Dean with a puzzled frown. "You okay?" Dean's color didn't look good.
Dean's eyes were closed. "I'm fine." He grated. "Breakfast didn't agree with me."
Sam's mouth quirked, "I could pull over if you're gonna puke, but I'll be damned I'd know where." He negotiated the next turn with care.
"Just watch where you're going!" Dean snapped, hitting his fist on the door.
To their right, as they came around another curve, a log house built less than ten feet from the road hung precariously off the side of the mountain they were traversing. Beyond it was a broad valley and more rolling mountains undulating in the distance. Cloud filtered, late afternoon sunlight softened the view and Sam would have enjoyed looking at it but watching the scenery and maneuvering the car was not a workable combination.
"Who would build a house in a place like that?" Sam asked, dumfounded. If you were out in the yard and fell, you'd roll all the way to the bottom of the mountain. Some 800 feet from the looks of it.
"Who cares?" Dean growled. He gaped at a yellow highway sign that read, "Caution, dangerous curves next seven miles" With a symbol that looked like a piece of ribbon candy. "Next seven miles" He bleated, face stricken. "What the hell did they call the last seven?"
Gradually the road began to exhibit signs of habitation. Small roadside shops selling souvenirs, the usual roadside junk. A lot of small cabin type motels, restaurants and tourist information centers. There weren't a lot of people out and but a few stood waiting at spots marked 'Trolley Stop." The closer they got to town the more businesses of every type imaginable started crowding together. All of the buildings had a turn of the century feel, even the obviously newer buildings had been designed with a Victorian feel to them. There wasn't a spare foot of ground off the road that didn't have a motel, restaurant or house serving any purpose other than as a house on it. Stained glass was everywhere, even on the rattier buildings. A noticeable number of buildings had closed signs on them, some of them in serious need of repair. There was a certain charm to what they were seeing but also an air of neglect.
Sam was craning his neck to look around and they weren't apparently even in the old part of town yet.
"Looks kind of empty," Dean commented, noticing that many of the motels they were passing had vacancy signs.
"Well, didn't that guy say it was off season? A lot of the tourist business dies down in the fall and winter. They're only open eight or nine months out of the year." He pointed at a motel called Etta Mae's with a restaurant next to it. It was painted lavender and a sign outside said World famous Omelets! It was almost six o'clock. "You wanta get something to eat? I'm hungry." He couldn't help smiling. "Maybe it'll settle your stomach." He pulled into the parking lot
"Screw you, Sam." Dean said, with feeling. "That's the last fucking time I let you drive."
Sam laughed and got out of the car.
You had to go down two flights of stairs to get to the restaurant and motel check in. At the right of the entryway was another set of narrow stairs that led down to the restrooms.
The hostess, a rawboned woman with teased hair and too much eye makeup, gave them a big smile and showed them to a table by a huge window. It looked out over another one hundred foot drop. Large birds sailed past the window. Dean couldn't stand it.
"Could we have a table that isn't hanging out in space, please?" Dean gave her a smile that was a little warped at the corners.
She was unfazed. "Sure thing, honey. It's not like we're short on tables." She was right. There were only two other groups in the dining room. A couple that kept nuzzling and giggling and family of four, two obese adults and two equally fat children of indeterminate age and sex. One of them, the girl (?) kept coughing and wiping her nose on her sleeve and being scolded for it by her mother. They reminded Dean of weebles.
The hostess took them to another table at the opposite end of the room and handed them the menus. "Claire will be your server. She'll be right along. Ya'll want coffee?"
"God, yes!" Dean said. Sam nodded. She grinned again and went to get the coffee pot.
Dean was looking around at the décor. Wallpaper that looked like shelved library books. A huge serving island ran down the center of the room. The view from the window was much better when he didn't have to see the bottom. The best looking thing was the hostess coming back with the coffee. She poured two cups and left the carafe on the table for which Dean blessed her. He drank half the cup in one scalding swallow.
Sam stared at him. "How can you do that?" Mystified as always, by Dean's ability to drink something that hot without batting an eye.
Dean frowned at him and tossed back the rest of the cup, quickly pouring himself another. Some semblance of normalcy began to seep into him. He knew he got cranky and distracted when he was hungry, but he couldn't help it. The roller coaster car ride hadn't helped.
"Boy, you really are in a mood." Sam commented, taking a cautious sip of his own coffee.
Dean shrugged, glancing up as a chunky girl in her twenties, with a long brown ponytail, walked up to the table carrying an order pad. Her eyes widened as she took them in and her welcoming smile got a little wider.
"Hi, there! I'm Carla. What can I get you guys today?" her eyes roved over Sam and then settled on Dean, who was still in a bad mood and barely acknowledged her. He took another drink of coffee, pretending interest in the view out the big window.
Sam rolled his eyes, sometimes Dean could be such a child. He gave Carla a smile and pushed the menus at her. "What's good?"
"Well, we've got a dinner special. We serve our omelets all day. That sign out front isn't kidding. It's a three egg omelet with everything, biscuits and gravy, home fries, bacon, sausage and a short stack of pancakes." She laughed as Sam's eyes widened.
"Man, that's a lot." He said after she finished.
Carla winked at Sam. "You look like you can handle it. How about you, darlin'?" She asked cocking her head at Dean.
Sam spoke before Dean could get his mouth open. "He's gonna need another cup of coffee before you wanta talk to him. Bring us two specials. No peppers on his omelet and a side of salsa with mine."
Carla laughed again and scribbled it down. "What kind of pancakes?"
"Blueberry," Sam and Dean said in unison. They glanced at each other and snorted softly.
Carla shook her head. "Be right out. Hope you're hungry."
Dean set his cup down and rolled his head, neck popping. "So, ok," he started. "What did you find out about this place?" While Dean had driven, Sam had taken advantage of the time and done some research on their destination.
Sam flipped the laptop on and started typing. When he had the site he was looking for he started reading aloud. Dean could have read the info himself but Sam was aware that Dean hated reading and avoided it whenever possible. Sam didn't understand why but would not risk possible embarrassment to Dean by asking. Dean had to touch things, taste them if need be, experience them physically to absorb knowledge. Dean would only do research himself when he had no other choice. Sam had taken naturally to doing research, loved it, as a matter of fact and it had just become his part of the job.
"Let's see, uh…" he rubbed his lip with his thumb out of habit. "The Moonstar was built between 1884 and 1886. It has five stories and sits on top of a mountain that's 2000 feet above sea level. It's built out of granite with walls eighteen inches thick. It was designed as a luxury hotel for wealthy families who were coming to Miracle Springs for the healing hot springs that abound in the area-"
"Abound?" Dean interrupted.
Sam grinned. "Their words, not mine."
Dean shrugged, "So what's the deal, sounds pretty dull." He started tapping his spoon against the coffee cup saucer. An unconscious signal to Sam that he was getting bored.
"Wait. During the construction, one of the workmen fell to his death. He died where room 218 was built. Supposedly, people have seen him around the hotel ever since then." Dean moved his head from side to side. "The hotel did really well for about 5 years until people realized that the waters weren't healing them and they lost interest in coming here. The hotel was closed for a while and then turned into a boarding school for girls in 1908. During that time a young girl was either pushed or jumped from one of the upper floor balconies, no one knows for sure. There have been a number of reports of people seeing her fall, screaming from the windows." He went on, not failing to notice Dean was watching him now. "It closed in 1924 and then was used as a junior college from 1930 to 1934."
He turned the laptop so that Dean could see the picture he had on the screen. A balding man with a goatee, wearing clothing from the early part of the century, a rather severe look on his face.
Dean took the bait. "Ok, so who's that?"
"This is where the history of the hotel gets real interesting. This is Nigel Becker, Dr. Becker, his patients called him. He opened a hospital in the hotel in 1937. A hospital for cancer patients. Supposedly he had a cure for cancer and he bilked over $4,000,000 from people who came to him hoping to be cured." Sam cocked an eyebrow at Dean who was sitting up straighter, frowning.
"Whadaya mean, bilked them, how?" Dean leaned forward, studying the old photo.
"He ran the hospital for three years, claiming to have a 'miracle cure' for cancer. He didn't, but he still managed to defraud a lot of desperate people and families out of money to continue treatments and he also sold his cure through the mail and over the radio. Supposedly he conducted a lot of experiments on the patients, trying out different versions of his cure." Sam sat back as Carla appeared with their overloaded plates. He closed the laptop and put it on the chair next to him.
"Here you go!" She said, skillfully setting the multitude of plates down without dropping any.
"Wow," Sam stated, looking at all the food. "If someone else comes in, see if they want to join us." His mouth was watering, he didn't realize how hungry he was. Knowing the money they were spending would be replaced with legitimately earned pay somehow made it almost decadent.
Dean eyed the pancakes greedily. Pancakes twice in the same day was a treat beyond imagining. He rewarded Carla with his most devastating smile. "This looks great, Carla, thanks." Sam could have sworn her knees buckled.
"You need anything else you just let me know, ok?" Her knee brushed Dean's thigh as she left their table. Startled, he pulled his leg farther under the table.
Shaking his head as Sam smirked at him, Dean dug into the steaming omelet. "God, I'm starving!"
For a little while they did nothing but eat, then Dean gestured at Sam with his biscuit laden fork. "So, go on about this Becker guy. What did he do to those patients?"
Sam swallowed a mouthful of pancake, hesitating. "I'm not sure you want to hear about it while you're eating."
Dean grimaced. "Well, I guess I can take it if you can, since you already know." He hurriedly took another bite, just in case.
Sam habitually cleared his throat before he spoke. "He treated all the patients with his secret elixir. Some by mouth, use it as a salve, by injection and in surgery. The story says in some cases he would perform surgery and after he made the incision he would pour the elixir into the wounds and then sew them back up. When he did surgery on brain cancer patients he would peel back their skin, saw through the skull and pour the stuff directly on their-"
"I get the picture!" Dean gagged, holding up his hands. "Jesus!" He rubbed his eyes. "What the hell was this elixir anyway?"
Sam pushed a sausage around on his plate. "A mixture of alcohol, carbolic acid, brown corn silk and ground watermelon seeds."
Dean stared at him, outraged. "What the fuck? What the hell was that supposed to do for them?" He pushed his mostly empty plate away. It was good thing he was pretty much full 'cause he sure didn't want anymore now.
Sam shrugged, "It didn't do anything for them. It may not have killed them directly but it sure didn't stop the process, probably hastened it along. The hope that it would help is what kept the patients families paying. They never actually knew what Becker was doing."
"How many people died there?" Dean asked after a moment.
"Records don't say. A lot. The hotel has a morgue in the basement--"
"Are you kidding me?"
Sam shook his head. "Nope. They also had a crematorium on site. People who died were never moved until night and then they were taken down to the morgue and their bodies were burned. The relatives usually weren't informed until it looked like the money was gonna stop coming in. Then they were sent a box of ashes and a consoling letter." Sam pushed his own plate away and picked the laptop back up.
"Stories also say that Becker performed a lot of weird stuff on the patients, that there are body parts and whole bodies bricked up in the walls that no one has ever found. A bunch of stuff like that. It's hard to tell where truth and legend split. Becker was finally arrested three years later for practicing medicine without a license. He spent 4 years in Leavenworth, was released and died in Florida in 1958." He flipped the screen around to Dean, a series of photographs of the Moonstar Hotel, original and various shots through he years including a recent one showing the renovation work in progress.
Dena leaned in to look at the photos. "He did all that and just got four years in the pen? Jeez, I'd sure as hell haunt the place if I'd been one of his patients."
Sam lifted his eyebrows. "I think that may be part of the problem. Dave Wilkins bought the property a year ago and has been renovating it, planning to reopen this coming spring. A lot of people are excited about it. They think it will help boost the economy to have luxury hotel in town again. A lot of businesses have gone out because the tourist trade just isn't there any more. Miracle Springs isn't that far from a lot of local attractions, they just need to get people to start coming here again." Sam poured a little more coffee.
Dean scratched his head. "I guess what ever favor he did Dad must have been a biggie." He frowned, tapping his spoon again.
Sam shut off the laptop and put it next to him. "I guess so." Sam agreed. "It's funny. The fact that the hotel is supposed to be haunted isn't really a problem according to the articles I read." Sam laughed. "He thinks that's a draw for clientele, but some of the stuff that's going on is a little to weird even for him. Some people have gotten hurt and he's starting to have trouble getting the workman to come in. They have to get the remodel done in time to open in March and they're already running behind what with one thing and another. I guess that's why he was willing to pay us. he can't afford to miss that deadline."
Dean sucked on his upper lip and nodded. "Guess we just need to talk to the guy and see what the hell's going on."
"Yeah, after reading about this place, I'm kinda curious to see it. Oh, thanks," Sam added as Carla came over with their check.
"Can I get you boys anything else? Anything, really, just ask." She picked up Dean's plate, managing to brush his hand as she did so.
Dean glanced weakly at Sam who gave him a big, sunny smile. "No, I think we're good, thanks." He replied, sliding out of his chair.
Carla looked disappointed. "Are you all just passing through?"
Sam shook his head helpfully. "No, we'll be around for few days, anyway." He ignored the look Dean fired at him and clambered to his feet.
A huge grin bisected Carla's round face. "Well, hey, great. Don't be strangers!" She gathered up the rest of their dishes and headed back to the kitchen after another sidelong glance at Dean.
"Thanks a lot!" Dean growled.
"True love is never a problem." Sam replied, snickering, as he followed Dean to the register to pay.
The weeble family waddled up to the register just as Sam and Dean came up and Dean stepped back slightly to indicate that the family could go first. The father smiled at Dean as the mother fussed with what apparently was the younger boy. The fat little girl sniffed and coughed, doing her sleeve bit again. Dean's smile faded slightly as she looked up at him and grinned. He backed up a little more, bumping into Sam.
"Hey!" Sam exclaimed, moving his foot back.
"Sorry." Dean murmured.
Sam pushed past him. "I'm gonna wash my hands, I'll meet you in the lobby."
"Yeah, whatever…" Dean said distractedly. He rummaged in his pocket for his worn wallet. As he worked through the cash, a five slipped out and fell to the floor. Shit. He squatted down to retrieve the bill and found himself face to face with the congested little girl. She held the bill out to him. She was maybe ten.
"Hi! Cough… cough… I'm Amy."
Dean reached out to take the bill just as Amy scrunched up her face and sneezed explosively. A fine spray of God knew what splattered Dean's face and clothes. "Christ!" His yelp of outraged disgust as he flailed away from her drew everyone's attention their way.
The girl's mother leaped forward. "Amy! Oh, my goodness! You know you're supposed to cover your mouth when you sneeze!" She grabbed a handful of napkins and tried to wipe Dean off. He batted her hands away.
"I've got it! It's ok! It's ok! I'll take care of it!" he threw some bills on the counter and followed Sam to the restroom, thudding down the stairs, holding his hands away from himself.
Sam fell back as the door was kicked open and Deans stormed in, throwing his jacket on the floor and started frantically washing exposed skin. Sam watched in amazement as Dean scrubbed at his face.
"What's the matter with you?" He demanded, drying his own hands.
Dean made a sound of disgust. "That damned kid practically puked on me!" he snarled, savagely washing his hands and wiping at the splatters on his t-shirt.
"What? Are you kidding?" Sam made a face.
"I reached down to pick up some money I dropped and she sneezed right in my face!" Dean grabbed some paper towels and started wiping his jacket down.
Sam laughed. "She sneezed on you? Whoa, dude, that sounds dangerous."
Dean's look should have killed Sam on the spot. "I hate kids!" he swore, stomping out of the room, back up the damned narrow stairs and up the two sets of stairs to the car. Sam followed in his wake, smirking.
"You think you'll live?" Sam kidded, as Dean ripped off his t-shirt when they got to the car to the obvious delight of a pair of chamber maids pushing a cart. He threw it at Sam and rummaged in his bag for a clean one, jerking it on. At this rate he was going to need to do laundry in the next 10 minutes.
"Not funny, Sam! Just get in the damn car!" Dean slammed into the driver's seat and gunned the engine. Sam hurried around to the passenger side before Dean drove off and left him.
"How the hell do we get to this place from here?" he demanded as Sam slid in.
"We can take the historic loop," Sam consulted a map he'd gotten online. "Make a left up here at the sign and just follow it around. It ends up right at the Moonstar."
"Fine!" Dean snapped. His anger was soon forgotten in the need to maneuver the big car cautiously through the narrow tilting streets. Sharp turns confronted him unexpectedly and the street went up and down with maddening irregularity. The houses, old Victorians, sprawled over the ground almost to the street itself in places. Everything from tiny cottages to huge mansions crowded against each other for what little flat space there was between the valleys and ravines they were perched on. Many of the old houses were in disrepair. A few were in the process of being remodeled. Almost all of them had a sign out front advertising Bed and Breakfast.
Dean swore as he just missed a mailbox negotiating a tight right turn and then an immediate left into a street that went up at what seemed like a 90 degree angle. If another car came from the other direction they'd be trapped there forever.
Even Sam was tight lipped as they drove slowly along. When their surroundings suddenly opened up he was genuinely shocked at the sight before him.
Dean stopped the car with a jerk staring up through the windshield. "Holy crap."
Sorry this was so long. Hope it wasn't too boring. I need to set the stage. Weirdness coming in the next chapter, I promise. Can I have some encouragement please? Read and review , remember I'm sick…cough…cough.