I just need to know
Whatever has happened
The truth will free my soul

-Within Temptation, "Somewhere" (2004)

"More coffee, dear?"

Dean gave a smile and found himself with another cup full of hot, caffeinated goodness. Thank god they were doing the hotel tonight, because Dean would never get to sleep at this rate. He was on cup four or five, he wasn't sure. And frankly, how Mrs. Pempshire (call me Gloria) kept her coffee pot on continuous refill was way more mysterious than the haunted hotel could ever be.

Sam didn't even get asked before his cup was refilled as well. "Anywhere else we should look at? Anything that we couldn't find anywhere else in Massachusetts?"

Gloria lit up. "I know you boys were heading out tomorrow, was it? Or the day after?"

"Depends on when we get called to the next job," Dean said. Under the guise of traveling employees/wannabe tourists, they'd asked her where to go, what to see in their limited time. And so far, the list was actually making Dean want to stop, if just for another day. The beach, a downtown walk promised to be filled with musicians and artists, and a taste-testing festival scheduled for the weekend. Dean could handle that. It beat dealing with angels and demons any day.

Gloria was still thinking. "Well, there's always the museums, but the bigger ones about Cape Cod are outside the town. You could charter a boat for the day: there's plenty of whales and even seals to be seen, especially this time of year."

It only took a glance from Sam to tell Dean it was time to sell the pitch. "What was that house up on the other side of town? I asked a few people at the diner and heard that it was...haunted? Are there tours or something?"

Without hesitating Gloria shook her head rapidly. "Good heavens, no, no tours through the Ocean House, and thank the Lord for it. That place has been condemned for years. Just last week a local boy died in that house. It was a tragedy, a real shame. But the kids 'round here won't listen to reason. They keep clambering up that hill to get to the hotel."

Dean feigned surprise, knowing Sam would do the same. "Oh, god, we had no idea," Sam said, picking up the story. "Is that why they say it's haunted?"

Gloria sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Not for Thomas, no. About thirty years ago another child died: Gina Moreles. Jumped from the second story balcony overlooking the lobby."

Now that wasn't what they'd expected to hear. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam sitting up straighter. "She jumped?" Dean asked. The report had said she'd fallen through the stairs; they'd said nothing about a balcony.

Gloria nodded slowly, as if remembering. "I'd just had my second child, Julia," she said quietly. "I remember thinking to myself how horrible it would be if I'd lost my daughter the way the Moreles had lost theirs. Even from where we stood on the main road, blocked off from the hotel, we could still see her bloody body being dragged out on a stretcher."

Dean whipped his head over to Sam, knowing he probably looked as shocked as Sam did. "And the authorities agreed she'd fallen?"

Gloria rolled her eyes at that. "Nobody agreed about what happened, but they found her, broken and bleeding, on the floor of the lobby. It was a tragedy."

Speaking of nobody agreeing... "Why was it condemned, do you know?" Dean asked. "It didn't look that old to us."

A shadow passed through her eyes, but it was gone in the next moment. "I was in my twenties when the fire happened. Killed a few people. It was a terrible moment. Entire place was deemed a fire hazard, and they shut it down."

"I think we'll stick with the beach tomorrow, then," Sam said smoothly, catching her eye and giving her a smile. And just like that Gloria was smiling again as well, a cheerful hostess.

They stayed to talk a little bit more about the taste-testing festival (which Dean really wanted to go to now after all the talk of the various meats on the grill) then headed back to their room. The room was on the second floor, but their window was right next to the trellis. There'd be no need to go back through the front door when they returned.

Not that that was at the foremost of Dean's mind at that point. "You find anything about the fire killing people?" Dean asked after shutting the room's door behind them.

"No, and did you see the look on her face?" Sam replied. He bit his lip, arms crossed in front of him. "I don't like this. There's something not right about this entire job."

"Yeah, no crap," Dean snorted. He glanced around the room, absently looking for what they'd need. "I say we wait another hour, then head out."

"Wait, what? No, we should-"

Even before Dean moved his gaze back, Sam had already stopped. "Should what?" Dean prompted, keeping his tone casual. "C'mon Sammy, should what?"

Sam flushed a little but finally said, "We should wait until tomorrow, try and get more of a feel on the place. Going in now feels like we're...we're going in blind, and I don't like it."

Not that Dean didn't agree. The entire thing had WRONG stamped across it in bright red ink, but waiting wasn't going to help them. "I really doubt anyone's gonna say anything different though, Sam. Everyone's got their story set up the way they believe it."

"That's just it though: it's a story, Dean. The entire thing feels rehearsed. Not so much a game of telephone, where everyone's heard one thing and it keeps changing as it goes, but more like..."

Dean's stomach twisted. "More like they're all deliberately saying something that's not true," he finished quietly. "They're setting up a story about what happened."

Sam shifted uneasily from one foot to another. "I meant to tell you this, but the library has all the newspapers going back to the early 1900's, at least. There's one day missing: April 13th, 1963."

"The day the hotel 'burned'?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. "Well that's just...peachy," he muttered, before glancing up at his brother. "You really think you could get something more truthful out of the town if we waited another day?"

After a long moment, Sam shook his head in resignation. "No. I just...going in blind with a half-truth is what-" He swallowed hard and looked away.

Dean's gut rolled for an entirely different reason. The last time they'd both been fed half-truths, Sam had wound up ganking Lilith and opening the last seal. They'd both nearly died as a result.

Sam was still gazing down, his eyes locked on the papers strewn across the table. Dean stepped forward and gently nudged Sam's shoulder. "I know," he said, even quieter than he had before. "But we're not split up anymore, like we were before. We're back, and that means between the both of us, we can figure out what really happened as soon as we get inside. Okay?"

It took a moment, but Sam finally glanced up to meet Dean's gaze. Dean raised his eyebrows. "Think we can take on the Ocean House?" he asked.

Slowly Sam's lips turned up. "Yeah," he said softly. "But you're going in first."

Dean grinned. "With my very chili-stain free shirt."

Sam huffed a laugh and turned to the table. "We should do our best to clean up; if Gloria comes up here for some reason while we're gone, the last thing she needs to see is our research on the hotel."

That would take them maybe five minutes, but Dean nodded. "Good point. And we might as well go over it all again anyways, maybe see something we didn't before. Any way to find out what happened to the owners?"

They had a little less than an hour to kill anyways. Might as well spent the time trying to fill in as many of the numerous information gaps as they could.

It was a little after eleven when they finally were able to sneak away. Gloria had come upstairs around ten as they were double-checking all their gear, wanting to know if they were interested in a warm drink before bed. "It gets cold up here this time of year," she'd said. "I always make sure my guests have an extra blanket or three, but I'd forgotten that I'd just washed them earlier. My knees aren't what they used to be: would either of you mind...?"

And so it was that Dean Winchester, demon and monster hunter extraordinaire, became the laundry delivery boy for half an hour. Sam wound up folding all the blankets, and Dean wasn't sure if that was worse or not from being the one to deliver them. They were treated to warm milk with some sort of spice mixed in (and Dean was denying any accusations that he'd finished up the pot which, apparently wasn't really bottomless) and cookies she'd baked just that day.

"Focus on the bags, Dean, and not your stomach," Sam hissed from the ground. Dean made a face at him but slung the bag more firmly over his shoulder. The trellis wasn't one of those plastic types, but good old fashioned wood. Made it easier to climb down.

"I can do both," Dean said, or tried to. It came out more like, "Ah 'en woo boh," since he was still chewing on the last of his chocolate chip cookies. God they were good. If the rest of this town cooked anywhere near as good as the diner and Gloria did, Dean could happily eat here for the rest of his life. Or have it air-delivered to wherever they were.

Sam was rolling his eyes by the time Dean landed on the ground. "You've already had, like, ten of them," Sam pointed out. "You're gonna get sick."

Dean made a point of swallowing before he spoke, which he thought was pretty damn polite of him. "Hey, I wouldn't talk, Sasquatch: you put away your fair share as well."

"Not as many as you," Sam contended. "Did you at least close the window before you came down?"

Dean didn't even dignify that with a response, simply started walking towards the car. What type of hunter did Sam think he was? Of course he'd shut the window behind him.

Still, when Sam passed by him, Dean cast a surreptitious look over his shoulder to make sure. Closed, just like he'd thought.

"I knew you'd look."

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. You made me doubt my own awesomeness. Are you ready or not?"

"Yeah."

The soft tone, more than the hesitation, caught Dean's attention. He glanced over to where Sam was placing his bag in the trunk. Sam's face would've looked blank to anyone passing by, but if you knew where to look, you'd see the worry in his gaze in the way he wrinkled his brow ever so slightly. The uneasiness in the tightness near his eyes. The fear in the way he bit his lower lip ever so.

And Dean knew where to look.

He tossed his bag next to Sam's but grabbed the trunk lid before Sam could close it. "I don't like it either," he said, when he knew he had his brother's attention. "But it's the best we're gonna do, bro."

"I just..." Sam sighed, shoulders dropping. "I'd just like to know what it is we're getting into. I hate not being told the full story."

"Yeah, no kidding," Dean snorted. He let Sam close the trunk quietly, and then slid into the driver's seat. One of these days, they were going to sit down and talk between each other about what had really happened those last few days before Lucifer. And about the year before. As painful as it would be, they really needed to do it. For Sam's sake, if anything else.

Because Dean hadn't been an innocent in the whole mess. Neither had Castiel. Sam couldn't keep taking all of the blame for what happened.

Sam slid in and carefully shut the door. Dean took that as his cue and started up the car. There wasn't any hiding her rumble, so he pulled out as fast as he could. Last thing he needed was for Gloria to come out. Hopefully she was asleep at that point; all the lights were off in the bed and breakfast.

The streets were dark and completely empty. Not even the streetlights remained on: the town was small enough that everything closed up for the night. Dean highly doubted any of the people here had spoken the word 'gang' in their lives. He made his way back to the other side of town and then carefully pulled into the drive. The small climb wasn't any big deal for the Impala, but Dean was still grateful that the hotel wasn't too high up on the hill.

He wasn't that grateful when he saw moving lights from inside. "What the-"

No car anywhere in the driveway. The light paused, then flashed up, then down. Like a flashlight.

Which meant-

"Son of a..." Sam started, but Dean was already flying out of the car. That meant they had a civilian inside, and that never, ever ended well.

Dean was really starting to hate this job with every passing minute.

"Move fast," Dean ordered as Sam hurried out of the car. "Sooner we can get whoever it is out of the there, the easier things will be."

Sam didn't look happy in the slightest. "They can't have been here long." He caught the bag Dean tossed him with one hand, still frowning. "They could be anywhere inside though-"

"No, that's the first floor, and I'm guessing the lobby," Dean said, shutting the lid with a vicious bang. Mentally he apologized to his baby even as he headed for the main stairs. "We can handle it."

"And the ghost?"

Dean glanced up at the massive hotel and shrugged. "Not that bad. Only five stories."

"Only five stories," Sam repeated incredulously. "It's still huge, Dean. We usually deal with a house, two story at best. Or an office that's one floor. This place is massive, like a mansion. With multiple rooms for multiple guests."

"Okay, yes, we're screwed," Dean snapped, his gut clenching tighter with every single point Sam outlined. "You happy now?"

"No, not really."

Dean glanced over at his brother as they made their way up the small set of stairs. Sam looked just as sick to his stomach as Dean felt. Dean took a deep breath and caught Sam's arm. "We'll be fine. We'll make it through. It's just one measly ghost. How bad-"

"Don't finish that sentence," Sam said, though his lips were turning up into a grin. "That sentence never ends well."

Dean shrugged casually. "One of us might as well say it," he said bluntly. "Things are gonna go to hell anyways."

"Point."

Still, Sam had grinned, Sam was breathing better, and Dean found his own body responding to Sam's mood. Back in tune, back in black. They could handle this.

The glass doors were boarded up pretty well, well enough that even if you broke the glass on the other side to get in, Dean highly doubted you would. Still, one door was open just a small bit, and through the crack Dean could see nothing but darkness. Silently he switched his flashlight on, hearing Sam do the same. With a careful nudge of his boot he slid the door open and waited. Nothing jumped out at him, but more darkness was revealed. A tiny bit of moon would've helped, but the clouds covering the sky were taking care of that.

A sound off to the left had Dean swiveling, gun drawn and crossed with the flashlight. Seconds later he heard a female voice curse. Their unexpected civilian. Nodding to Sam he stepped inside, making his way over to what looked like an old check-in counter. The marble on top was pristine, if dusty, and the wood counter itself looked remarkably well in shape. No rotting there. He doubted the wood anywhere in this place was rotten.

He made his steps go heavy and moved around the counter. "Excuse me, Miss?"

There was still a gasp of surprise, and then he was around the corner. On the floor was a blonde girl, somewhere in her early twenties if Dean had to hazard a guess. She was on her hands and knees, her ponytail hanging haphazardly over one shoulder. "Miss?" Dean asked again.

"I need something," she said. "And I'm not leaving without it."

"And that would be...?"

The blonde stood, wiping the dust and grime off of her hands and then her knees, her skirt almost long enough to cover them. "Just...something," she insisted. "Please just go; as soon as I can find it, I can get out of here. You guys aren't helping in the slightest. I know the cops have been all over this place lately, but they didn't find it, and I need it, it's important, you don't understand-"

Even while Dean was blinking, trying to catch up, he heard Sam grunt and immediately turned his flashlight towards his brother, who was falling inside.

Two seconds later, the door he'd been keeping open slammed shut with one loud bang.

-Within Temptation, "Somewhere" (2004)