Title: Moonstar
Ch. 7: Are you okay?
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 another frickin' bridge chapter, I had to get from one point in the story to another. Sorry. Hopefully by the time I get to the climax the drudgery will have been worth it. Thank Tracer2032 for the rest of this story being written at all, she found me on the verge of self destruction, bravely swam to my rescue as I was drowning in a storm tossed sea of plot problems and dragged my ass to shore where she applied idea resuscitation and forced me back to life. I was ready to just post the climax and let y'all figure out what happened. Thank you also, fairyntoad14 for offering to help, don't think I won't ask.
Dean grimaced as he re-crossed the threshold of the hotels front door as the full assault of that smell washed over him again. God, it was so strong, how could the others not smell it? It was thick and overwhelmingly sweet with a stomach twisting under-scent that Dean could almost place.
Sam glanced at him curiously as Dean apparently made some sound but said nothing.
David had been joined by a woman who was certainly eye-catching to say the least.
"Get the car moved all right?" Davis asked, seeing the dark look on Dean's face.
"It won't start." Dean said shortly. "We had to push it."
"What's wrong with it?"
Dean shrugged, obviously upset. "Don't know. It was fine until we parked. I'll have to take a look at it tomorrow." His eyes shifted to the woman next to David.
"I'm sorry, hopefully it won't be anything too bad." David gestured at the woman. "Guys, this is my wife, Linda. Linda this is Sam and Dean Winchester. You may remember me mentioning their Dad once or twice, John Winchester."
Linda Wilkins was attractive in a heavy set, hard sort of way, a little too much makeup and her hair was dyed a brassy red and worn in a loosely gathered knot at the back of her neck. An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of her red mouth. Large gold earrings clattered at her ears, she wore purple capris and a pale blue tank shirt, stretched to the max by her copious bosom. The part of her breasts not restrained by the fabric, jumped and jiggled with every movement, as if they possessed a life of their own. They were daubed with paint, as was quite a lot of the rest of her. Sam shook her hand when David introduced them and tried to look her in the eyes. Dean couldn't help staring, fascinated but repelled. It was like watching dumplings bob to the surface of a stew.
"Nice to meet you, both," she said in a rich voice. Her smile seemed to say she was genuinely pleased to have them there. She was also direct. She took a look at Dean, slouched to one side and said, "You look like shit, kid. You hungover?" She had a New York accent.
Linda!" David squeaked.
Dean straightened, a startled look on his face. He glanced at Sam who was also surprised but also unsuccessfully trying to hide a smirk. "I'm okay." He mumbled defensively. The sickly sweet odor didn't seem quite so bad now, but was still playing havoc with his stomach. In truth he wanted to sit down. It had been a long day, his muscles ached and he could feel his energy waning. The thought of wandering this huge building right now was so not appealing.
"I'm sorry. Was that rude?" She exclaimed. "You boy's will have to get used to the fact that I say what I think. Something comes into my head, it falls out of my mouth. Don't be offended." She laughed. "Just ignore me, like David does."
Sam was relieved when she grabbed an over shirt and shrugged it on if only because it forced Dean's eyes upward, although the resultant motion from the act was almost audible.
"Sorry for the way I look," she tossed the unlit cigarette in a trash pile. "I've been painting in the office." She glanced around at the mess. "For God's sake, let's go to the kitchen. There's at least a table and some chairs." She cast an eye at Dean again, who hastily averted his own gaze. "You sure you're ok, sweetie?"
He nodded. "I'm fine."
Linda laughed again, softly, shrugging, "If you say so." She walked forward shooing them ahead of her into what was obviously going to be a dining room. "Kitchen's this way. It's pretty basic right now, enough to do a simple breakfast or sandwiches, but we usually eat out or have something brought in. You boys feel free to help yourselves to anything you can find. There's always coffee." She led them into a large room with a huge table in the center, covered with blueprints, swatch books for wallpapers, paint and carpet and other miscellaneous papers. She opened a metal cabinet and rummaged inside, eventually producing some cups.
David pulled out a couple of chairs. "Sit down, guys. Do you want some coffee? Or a soda?"
Dean spoke up instantly. "Coffee'd be great, thanks." He sank gratefully into one of the mismatched chairs. He rested his elbows on the table and absently rubbed the back of the hand he had cut the night before which was starting to ache. The smell seemed less noticeable in here, or at least was less offensive. He resisted the urge to put his head down on his arms.
David glanced at Sam, who nodded, "coffee's fine." Sam leaned toward Dean and spoke softly. "You ok? Your hand bothering you?"
Dean's eyes flicked up and he moved his hands away from each other. "Stop asking me that!" he hissed. "I'm gettin' tired of it."
Sam lifted his eyebrows and sat back. "Sorry."
Linda and David came back to the table carrying two cups each and set them down. Dean caught his cup left handed and took a big swallow. Linda settled in a chair and rested her bosom on the table. "So I guess David told you about our little problem?"
Sam rested his own arms on the table. "Yeah, kind of. He said you knew a lot more about the hotel than he did. I guess we could use a little more information, we usually try to research our jobs, to try to get a better idea of what we may be dealing with. Local history, legends, that kind of thing." He sipped at his coffee. "We definitely want to have a good look around, familiarize ourselves with the hotel and the different areas where you've had disturbances."
"Linda actually found the hotel." David offered. "We were looking for an investment property and she found it online. She did a lot of research on the area and the structure's history. It's really fascinating."
Linda shrugged. "I used to work for a real estate speculator so I have a fair idea of a good buy. This area is ripe for a tourist boom ." She laughed. "Although, we may have bitten off more than we could chew with this baby."
"You said you didn't mind that the hotel might be haunted." Dean's voice cut in. "If that's true then what difference does all this make?" His voice sounded a little raspy and he cleared his throat, talking another drink of coffee. Sam frowned, listening to him but said nothing.
David nodded, looking a trifle chagrined. "The possibility of seeing or experiencing a ghost is a big draw for a lot of people. As the owners, though, hearing a few footsteps or voices is one thing. The idea that a customer might be pushed off a balcony is something else. We've been living here full time for the last 2 months and up until we found that passageway, no one ever noticed anything that wasn't harmless to say the least. Fun scary, if you know what I mean."
The look Sam and Dean shared said that clearly they did not.
Sam smiled. "Well, we'll try to help you with the problem as much as we can. It's a fabulous building, even like it is now. I'm anxious to take a closer look at it."
David checked his watch. It was almost 7:30. He exchanged a look with Linda. "Unfortunately, the generators go off at 7:00, they provide light to the areas that aren't totally wired yet, some of the upper floors, the basement level. We only have the main living areas completely electrified. We'll probably have to hold off on a tour until in the morning. And," he added. "To be quite honest, we haven't had dinner yet and I'm hungry. Have you guys eaten? We could go down to the Spring Grill, the foods pretty good and it's just a few blocks walk."
Sam shook his head. "We grabbed something to eat on the way here, thanks. I'm sorry we couldn't get here any earlier."
At the end of the table Dean was rubbing his eyes. His hands covered a huge yawn. Sam bit back a smile. Dean would be asleep in another few minutes judging by the signs. Sam realized Dean was probably still suffering from the effects of the night before, mentally and physically.
Linda shrugged one shoulder, causing a ripple across her chest. "No problem, you can see more in the light and I'm sure you boys are tired, that's not a fun drive if you've never done it before." She rose from the table. "I've got some books and things with information about the hotel. Why don't I get 'em and you can look 'em over. There's also a historical society in town, they have a lot of photos and all kinds of things. They don't get a lot customers so they'd probably be thrilled to help you." She was digging around on the shelves behind them and returned to the table with four or five books of different sizes and several file folders.
Sam, ever the researcher, sat up with interest as she deposited them in front of him. He opened a folder and looked through a series of photocopies of the building at different stages of construction. "This is great. Thanks."
"Knock yourself out," Linda replied. She turned as David brought her a jacket. "I guess the world will just have to get used to me and the girls being paint splotched," she said as she worked her arms into the jacket, causing a minor tsumani.
Sam bit down on the inside of his cheek. The girls?
David reached into a box and rummaged around, coming up with a couple of keys. "These two rooms are ready, do you want to be together or each have your own room?"
Sam tried to catch Dean's eye but Dean's eyes were now closed. "We usually stay in the same room."
David nodded and tossed down a key with 203 engraved on it. "That oughta work for you then. The numbers are on the door, you won't have any trouble finding it." He held out a ring of labeled keys. "These are all the keys to the building. We have a spare set. In case you do decide to wander. Do be careful, though. Linda and I haven't really experienced anything to out of the ordinary, other than what I told you earlier. But we weren't looking for it either." He cocked an eyebrow at Sam, then turned back toward Dean. "He always this quiet?" Dean looked up then, embarrassed.
Sam smiled tightly, watching Dean. "Not usually, no. We had a bad night last night." Dean's eyes popped open all the way and shot to Sam. Sam stared back at him. "We're both a little tired, I think."
"Well, don't wait up for us. We'll see you in the morning. Good luck….I guess." David smiled and he and Linda moved toward the door. Sam heard the lock on the front door click.
"What the fuck was that all about?" Dean demanded. "We had a bad night?"
"Maybe you don't remember being there." Sam commented. Dean's eyes flickered. Sam gathered up the papers and books. "Let's find these rooms and get some rest. I know you'd drop dead before you'd admit you're worn out but I'm tired even if you're not. It's probably better if we do check this place out tomorrow. Our heads'll be clearer."
Dean made a face but Sam was right. He was beat. His hand was sore, his body ached and dammit, his throat hurt. Figured. Germy little brat. He dragged himself to his feet and followed Sam back out through the dining room and back into the lobby.
As they crossed the stone floor, the windows glowed with a sudden light and soft thunder rumbled in the distance. Sam was surprised they could hear it through the thick walls.
"We better get out stuff before it starts to rain." Dean said.
Sam hung the ring of keys on his arm and put the books on the counter. "Sounds close." Dean undid the lock on the door and they hurried down the steps into the now dark parking lot. One vapor lamp, mounted temporarily over by the heavy equipment kept the area from being pitch black.
The wind had come up and thickening clouds worked to obscure what little daylight might have been left. The lightening came again, followed loudly by thunder and Dean felt a fine sprinkle on his face. They jogged over to the Impala and Dean opened the trunk, leaving Sam to pack a weapons bag. He opened the driver's door and slid in, trying the key one more time. Nothing. Dammit!
He reached out and patted the dash board. "I know it's not your fault, baby. I'll check you out in the morning.' He reached back and dragged out their two duffle bags of clothing and personal items and pulled Sam's laptop across the seat. As he got out Sam slammed the trunk and joined him, shouldering his duffle.
"No good?"
Dean pocketed the keys and shook his head. "I'll get under her tomorrow and look it over. It's probably something minor." He sighed and glanced back at the hotel as lightning backlit it and a huge bolt shot across the sky. The empty black gaze of the windows was unsettling and he turned away.
"C'mon we're gonna get wet." He grabbed his bag and Sam's laptop and they both ran back to the veranda and slipped inside the doors as the rain began to pelt down in earnest.
Sam bolted the door behind them and went to retrieve his papers and books, stuffing them into one of the countless plastic bags lying about.
"What was the room number?" Dean asked as he started up the stairs.
Sam glanced at the heavy metal key. "203. I guess all the rooms are on the upper floors." He hurried after Dean.
The steps were low and wide, almost too low to be able to move up easily. Both of their strides were naturally taller than the risers and it was a little awkward. Also the railing that ran along the open side was only about 6 inches shorter than what would have been considered standard, which made you tend to shy toward the inside wall.
"I guess people were a lot shorter back then," Dean commented as he caught the toe of his boot on the step, again, stumbling.
Sam gave up and took two steps at a time, which was a little too tall to feel natural but better than tiptoeing. The staircase turned back on itself after a small landing and then a corridor ran off to the left. Remnants of old fashioned, flowered carpet still covered the floor, threadbare and faded but another clue to the richness this building had once commanded.
Sam was reading doors. 203 was halfway down the corridor on the right. He dropped his duffle on the floor and opened the door. You could still hear the thunder but the lightning was blocked.
Dean reached in and felt for a wall switch, it was an old toggle style switch and he flipped it on. A light in the center of the ceiling flashed on and cast a harsh brightness over the barely furnished room. Sam followed him in. There were two full size beds, a table and chairs and a worn looking dresser. The furniture was old but the room was surprisingly clean and the beds were neatly made. To the right was another door that led to a bathroom straight out of the 1920's, claw leg tub and all. A window faced the lower garden and the bell tower that Dean had seen earlier. As he stared out the window, lightning illuminated the grounds, grayed by the pouring rain. He could see lights here and there further down the mountains and an occasional sweep of headlights.
Sam shrugged, "We've certainly stayed in worse. At least it's free."
"Mmm…" Dean replied, dropping his bag on the bed by the door, which also happened to be next to the bathroom. He cleared his throat again and winced, swallowing.
"Your throat hurt?" Sam asked, coming over.
Dean sighed and nodded slightly. "I told you that damned kid had bird flu."
Sam snorted and reached out to feel Dean's forehead. Dean sidestepped him, stripping off his jacket. Now that he was near a bed he was so tired he wasn't sure he could stay awake long enough to get undressed.
"I wanta see if you have a fever."
"You already know I'm hot, Sam," Dean replied, struggling to toe off his boots, "In every sense of the word." He added with a tiny smirk, so Sam would lay off. He rolled the t-shirt off and dropped it on the floor.
To hell with it, he thought. He knocked his bag on the floor and collapsed on the bed in his jeans. He pulled a pillow over his face to block the glaring light and was asleep within a minute.
Sam, watched, smiling slightly. He really wanted to recheck Dean's hand but he guessed that could wait. He leaned over the bed and carefully lifted the pillow, laying the back of his hand against Dean's face. A little warm. He shook his head and replaced the pillow. Flipping off the overhead light and turning on a small table lamp he opened the laptop on the table, setting the bag of books next to it. He wanted to read some of the documents Linda had given him and even though he was tired from the harrowing drive, he wasn't ready to sleep yet.
My God, labor wasn't this hard……I'm sorry it's such a crappy chapter but I am SO GLAD to get past it. Next one'll be better and it's half written so it won't be so long until I post again. I'm posting this now, good, bad or ugly. Read and review if you dare….I must have fried some brain cells when I was sick…..
(There was actually another part to this but to made the chapter too long so it comes next, tease tease…)