Chapter 3: "The Captain Sees Spirits Dancing"

Dean got lucky. He arrived at the bar just as the bartender was about to close up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know the bar closed at this time," Dean said almost casually as the old man glanced up at him.

"Sit," the old man commanded. "I can stay a little longer. You look like you could use a drink."

Dean sat down on one of the bar stools. "I always look that way," he joked, but there was a ring of truth there.

"What'll it be?" the old man asked.

"Whiskey," Dean answered immediately.

The old man turned to pour Dean a glass, then passed it to him, and after the man told Dean the cost, Dean gave him the money for the drink.

As Dean drank in silence, the old man straightened some bottles on the shelf behind him.

"So what's got you up this late?" the old man inquired.

"Ghost stories," Dean replied.

The old man stopped what he was doing. "Oh."

He turned to face Dean. "What have you heard?"

"That this hotel is haunted," Dean said. "That you yourself have been telling people about it."

"You didn't come down for just a drink," the old man guessed.

"Nope," Dean confirmed. "I wanted to hear the story myself, and more. I want the whole story."

The old man shrugged. "Not much to tell."

Dean eyed him.

"You will just think I am a crazy old fool," the old man assumed.

"Try me," Dean said. "I've seen more crazy then you'd ever believe."

The old man cocked an eyebrow and sighed. "Alright, I will tell you."

"Everything?" Dean questioned.

The old man nodded.

"It is a long story though," he warned.

Dean smiled. "I have all night."

The old man leaned against the bar. "When I retired from being a Captain in the Navy, my wife and I moved here from Washington State," he began. "Evelyn wanted to go someplace warmer, wanted to come back to her home state. We were still pretty young, wanted to start a family. We both got a job here. I worked at the bar, as I do now, and she worked at the front desk. We were happy, until it happened."

"What happened?" Dean prompted.

"The owner died," the old man continued. "He fell down the stairs, and hit his head on the last step. The police said it was an accident, but to this day I cannot be sure. Joseph's father was always jealous his brother inherited this hotel when their parents died. When Walter died, Henry took over."

"When did Joseph come to power?" Dean asked.

"Ten years ago," the old answered. "When Henry died of cancer."

"When did the spirits start acting up?" Dean inquired.

"The day after Walter died," the old man told him. "It was small things. The guests would talk about strange noises, flickering lights, the usual claims that start talk. Over time it got worst, to the point a guest was scratched on their back."

The old man paused for a moment before continuing. "Evelyn was terrified. She wanted to leave. But we couldn't find any other job at the time. None that paid as well, at least, so I convinced her that we had to stay."

"And she was killed," Dean guessed.

The old man nodded. "Four nights later a guest coming back from a bar in the next town found her behind the front desk. She was the first, but not the last. Whatever is here has a taste for blood."

"What about Henry and Joseph?" Dean asked. "Have they ever done anything to try to get rid of the ghosts?"

"Henry refused to get help," the old man replied. "It was the 1960's, people weren't very open-minded about this sort of thing. I guessed he just didn't want people talking. I figured he didn't want to lose business. He threatened my job if I told anyone. I couldn't afford to lose it, so I promised not to tell anyone. Who would believe ghosts existed anyway?"

"So what happened after that?" Dean quizzed.

"More deaths," the old man said. "Occasional enough that people shook it off. Then a few years later, in 1964, I saw her..."

Dean straightened up. "Who?"

"My wife," the old man told him. "She was standing on the front steps when I arrived one night from buying more liquor for the bar. She looked exactly how I remembered her. Exactly how she looked the day she died. Red dress, beautiful brown hair... When I got out of the vehicle she was gone. After that, I kept seeing her. Everywhere in the hotel. Sometimes I'd see her more than once a day. But she never got close, and when I tried, she would disappear. When the next death happened, there was a witness."

"What did they say?" Dean inquired.

"He said he saw a woman in a red dress," the old man paused as tears formed in his eyes. "And I knew he meant Evelyn. He thought my Evelyn killed his girlfriend."

"Did he actually see her do it?"

The old man shook his head. "But they had seen her just before he left his girlfriend in their room alone."

"But there had to be another ghost, right?" Dean asked.

"There are many," the old man answered. "Many different ghosts have been seen. Evelyn, the other victims, a black mass, and Walter..."

"Wait," Dean interrupted. "A black mass?"

"Been spotted occasionally for years," the old man said. "Once by a man the day before he committed suicide here, or at least everyone believed it was suicide."

"You didn't?"

"I'd seen and heard too much to assume."

"Did you ever see the black mass?" Dean inquired.

"No," the old man replied. "And before you ask, I haven't seen Evelyn since 1969, and I haven't seen much of the others either. But I know Evelyn's still here. After a time, I figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"That they're all stuck here," the old man told him grimly. "Every person that has died here. For some reason, they can't move on."

"Have you ever tried to warn people, despite your promise to Henry?" Dean quizzed.

"Once," the old man said. "I spoke to a reporter who was writing an article about the two people who died here once, on the same night. Husband and wife. I told her everything. All the deaths and the strange things that have happened. Including the last night I saw Evelyn."

"What did you see?"

"She was outside," the old man began. "In the backyard, with several other spirits. It was late, past midnight, but there was a full moon, so I could see them all. I swear...they were dancing..."

Dean starred at him.

The old man sighed. "I know that look. Maybe I am crazy, but I'm not lying."

"No, it's not that," Dean said. "It's just, it sounds just like..."

"Hotel California?"

Dean nodded.

"Yeah," the old man agreed. "I wouldn't be surprised if The Eagles had read the article. It's so close to the truth."

Dean took a sip of whiskey from the glass in his hand, and for a moment, he and the bartender were quiet.

There was so much to take in, but no time to do so, because as soon as Dean put down the glass, Sam and a woman charged into the room.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, standing up.

"We're stuck," Sam gasped, out of breath from running. "We're locked in, and it's not because of a lock. There was a ghost."

"Let me guess," Dean said dryly. "You saw a woman in a red dress?"

"Have you seen her too?" the woman with Sam inquired.

Dean glanced at the old man, then back to Sam and the woman with him. "No, just a lucky guess."