The boys practically ran through the dark back to their room; they ran so fast their flashlights bobbed up and down, being of no use to the brothers. Once inside, they immediately locked the door behind them.
Dean spun on his heels to face his brother, who has just entered through the door. Sam, having managed to lock the door, turns to face the room only to find his brother a few feet from him.
"I don't like this, Sammy. Somethings not right. Some of those people are fresh, like a couple of days fresh," Dean's scowls, his voice higher-pitched than normal fear evident in his voice and expression.
"We should call the police. That's well beyond our realm, Dean. It isn't a random report of a suspicious suicide or a mysterious ghostly figure; that's murder! Who's to say the person doing it isn't fucking outside waiting for us!" It was unusual for both the brothers to be panicked at the same time, with no calm voice of reason.
"All we know for sure is there are dead bodies above our room. Where would the nearest police station even be?" Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket, looking at the screen briefly. "I don't have service."
Automatically, Sam reaches for his, pulling it out and checking the statice of his service.
"Nothing," Sam sighs out. "Think the office is locked?"
"Won't matter even if it is," Dean snarls.
Sam tested the doorknob attempting to turn it; it turns slightly before stopping. Dean stands behind him, his back almost touching his brother's, holding the flashlight up high, he searches the darkness. The beam of light doesn't reach very far, and the darkness surrounding them feels suffocating. Almost as if it's slowly closing in around them, and they won't notice until the last second, when it's too late.
"Dean, I need your lock pick," Sam states, upon discovering the locked door. Without a word, Dean reaches into his pants pocket, retrieving his cracked lethal wallet. He slides his pick out of the slip, wordless handing it to his brother, never bothering to turn around.
It wasn't that Dean was afraid of the dark it was more of an understanding. He knew it was possible just beyond his field of vision someone or something could be standing, watching, waiting, for their opportunity to strike. It's not the dark you should fear, it's what could be lurking in the dark, but maybe that's a more grown-up way of admitting you're scared of the dark. Truthfully, he was afraid of a lot of things.
Somethings, he thought he could hide, like his fear of fire. After watching his entire future go up in the black smoke, he understood from then on that things change in the blink of an eye. Dean remembers how it felt when the tiny burning ash fell upon his fragile skin. Now he cannot stand to be around that blistering heat, fire. Sam never misses the way Dean flenches away from the houses they have to burn, and how overeager, the almost anxious way Dean stumbles to the car, ready to leave once they're sure the house will go down. The way he practically demands it.
Sam sighs, having been trying to open the door for several minutes now. He held his own flashlight in one hand as he used the lock pick with the other, making it troublesome.
"Are you ever going to the damn thing open, Sam? I'm starting to get cold, and I don't see any ladies around to warm me back up," Dean chuckles to himself, trying to lighten the mood. However, Sam doesn't laugh.
"No, I can't get it, and I think I remember seeing a bolt lock on the door in addition to the normal one now that I'm thinking about it," Defeat shows in his voice.
"I get to kick it down," Dean asks eagerly, sounding like a child readying to open gifts on Christmas as he turns around to face his brother.
"Kick it down."
The first kick bounces right off the door, stunning Dean for a moment. Sturdy little fuck. Once more, he kicks the door, using his full force to ram the door open, only to fail.
"Just use your shoulder before you kick a hole through it," Sam instructs as he stands to the side allowing, his brother to batter the door.
Under his breath, Dean mumbles his snarky remark. He turns to his side, holds his hands together in front of himself. Dean's shoulder faces the door, prepared to take the impact of the collision.
It took them both by surprise when the door open, Dean's shoulder breaking through the lock. Dean found it alarming as he fell through, even more so when the motion didn't stop, and he found himself sliding across the wooden floor. The floor was slick with something making it nearly impossible for him to stop the momentum. Sam reaches out to grab his brother, but he moved too quickly. His flashlight falls with a loud crack, breaking the bulb inside. Dean continues to falter, not stopping until he finally smacks his side into the check-in counter, knocking the breath from his lungs.
"God damn it, Sam. Turn on the lights," Dean demands through gasps of air.
Silently, Sam feels the baren wall for the switch, finding it located conveniently next to the door.
"Found it," Sam announces, warning his brother of the attack his eyes are about to experience.
The light illuminates brightly, making both men squint, their eyes needing to adjust. Slowly, they begin opening their eyes wider; both their gazes glue to the floor.
The floor was a bloody mess, literally. A pile of blood not too far from the door, now having a skid mark through it from Dean's boot, sits, glistening.
Neither of them thought it was appropriate to comment. The boys knew who it belonged to, and it was more than unnecessary to say. They'd already seen her body all bloody and laid out on the roof. Instead, Dean works on catching his breath as he holds his sore his.
It takes Sam a second to pull his gaze away.
"Let's find the phone," Something about Sam's voice is different now. It's demanding yet afraid. These men have fought hundreds of monsters, but very rarely were the monsters living human beings. The unexplainable is their job to solve, but this isn't that. There isn't the unpleasant smell of sulfur nor the chilling coolness of a ghostly presence. There isn't the mystery of what did it this time; it's who, which makes the why all the more complicated.
Sam walks past his brother, who is still nursing his side. He walks around the desk, searching wordlessly for the landline. He picks it up, about to hold it to his ear; Dean nods for him to continue.
Sam places the phone to his ear, expecting to hear the static on the other end; there is silence.
"Check to see if it's unplugged." Dean walks around, standing close to his brother; from the phone base, he follows the wire down to where it's plugged.
"It's cut," He moves aside to show Sam the severed ends.
"Let's get the fuck out of here," Dean commands, already making his way to the door.
As always, please do not forget the like and follow the story if you're enjoying it. I'm only pushing out a chapter once I have the next one written or mostly complete, I want to stay ahead. Thank you for understanding.