Oh, this house is haunted
Oh, that's how I want it to be
Oh, this house is haunted
You can always stay here with me...

-Alice Cooper, "This House is Haunted" (2003)

Even before Sam jumped up and hurried back Dean knew it was going to be a futile gesture at that. Sure enough, several hard tugs to the door did nothing: they were both locked up tight.

From the look on Sam's face when he turned to meet Dean's flashlight beam, he'd known as much. "Locked," he said flatly.

"What? No," the girl said, eyes wide. "You just opened it, it can't be locked!"

"Thought you weren't leaving without whatever you were searching for?" Dean asked with fake cheerfulness. The girl glared, but it was weak at best. Her eyes were darting back and forth, watching the insides of the place like they were going to jump out and bite her. Given how two people had died in the hotel, Dean figured it was still a possibility. Who knew what ghosts did?

"So much for getting her out," Sam said, stepping over towards them.

"You got the bags?"

"Yeah, they're both here. I don't know if we have enough ammo to fend off whatever can keep doors shut tight, though. Especially ones with the locks blown: I checked while you were wandering over here. They must've done it after the place was condemned. That's a pretty powerful spirit, Dean."

Dean shrugged. Without the flashlight, Dean could still make out his brother's face in the darkness, if he was close enough. And right now, his brother looked pissed off, worried, and scared. The usual winning trio. "We sit tight in one place, then, until we get a better idea of what we're looking for."

"Who are you guys?"

They both turned to the girl, who was looking increasingly freaked out. "You guys aren't cops," she said firmly, though her voice wavered. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Dean pulled his flashlight up to catch her in the light. "Could ask you the same, Miss...?"

The girl bit her lip but folded. "Bethany. And again I ask, who the hell are you people?"

"Sam; this is my brother, Dean," Sam said gently. "What do you need so much?"

Bethany shook her head. "I came over here to find a watch. It was my brother's."

"Thomas?" Dean hazarded a guess, and Bethany nodded.

"Yes. I gave it to him for his last birthday and...they never found it on his b-body, so I thought I could try and find it."

"Never occurred to you that maybe stepping inside a place that's haunted and has killed two people might not be a swift idea?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. "Especially at night?"

"Haunted?" Bethany said. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, her long-sleeved sweater obviously not keeping her warm enough. "You guys think this place is haunted?"

"How did the cops say your brother died?"

"Bloody," she told Sam flatly. "I didn't ask for details." She glanced down under the counter where she'd been searching. "I just...I need that watch," she murmured softly. "I can't go home without it."

It wasn't really her fault: no one ever actually thought that a place marked as haunted was truly haunted. And with no locks on the door, Bethany had thought she was safe to get in and out fast. Especially when the watch had obviously meant a lot to her.

Dean totally got that. He briefly touched the space on his chest where his amulet should've been. Gifts to siblings meant something, dammit.

Still, that left them with a civilian to protect. Whomever the ghost was, it had enough power to batten down all the hatches and keep them inside. He wondered if the same thing had happened to Thomas, or Gina.

"How much do you know about Gina Moreles?" Sam asked, after a quick nod to Dean. Dean stepped out from behind the counter and let Sam take his place. While Sam quietly conferred with Bethany, Dean waved his flashlight around the room and got a good look at the place.

There were a ton of sofas, fashioned in the twenties if Dean had to hazard a guess based on shape, covered with dust cloths. The chandelier on high was impressive and had to have cost a bundle. Random plant pots were placed around the lobby, and there were still a few carts to put the luggage on. The tiled floor beneath him provided a soft tapping sound with each footstep. Probably marble, too. The whole place was ritzy, and Dean could well imagine it going out of business for lack of funds.

On the far right side, near the main doors, was a long hallway that led down to a few doors. Before the hallway, though, was the staircase. It was massive in size, and could easily have fit three people side by side without any problem. The gold railing needed serious polishing, and the red, carpeted steps themselves needed a vacuuming or five. It was still regal in appearance, however.

And there were no holes in the stairs to be found. "Fell through my ass," Dean muttered under his breath. If Gina didn't die there, then...

His eyes followed his flashlight up to the second floor. The stairs opened out onto a balcony that overlooked the huge lobby, then split off right and left to hallways with rooms. The gold railing of the stairs extended to the railing of the balcony, keeping people from falling off.

Like Gina supposedly had, if Gloria had been right. He dropped the flashlight beam to the ground and found no visible bloodstains. The entire floor was dusty, but clean. If Gina had died in the hotel, it hadn't been in the lobby.

As satisfied as he was going to get, Dean made his way back towards Sam and Bethany. If Bethany's posture was anything to go by, Sam had started explaining the whole, "Ghosts and demons and werewolves, oh my," story. Always got some interesting facial expressions.

"...the hotel," Sam was saying as he got closer. "And that's why we have to get you out of here."

"What about you guys?" Bethany whispered. She looked two seconds away from passing out. "I-I mean, if...if Gina's still hanging around, then...oh god, I can't believe I'm saying this. Aren't you guys in danger then, too?"

"Danger's what we do," Dean said, inserting himself into the conversation. "And not to make you freak out more, but I don't think Gina's our ghost."

"I was getting that feeling, too," Sam said. "Look." He shone his flashlight under the counter, where Thomas had been found. Not a speck of blood anywhere to be found, which was what Dean had been afraid of. Sam met his gaze with the same grim-faced look.

"I don't understand," Bethany said, swallowing hard. "I don't understand any of this. How are you getting what feeling? What's really going on?"

"The minute we know, we'll tell you," Dean said, before turning to Sam. "I didn't find a thing. No rotten stairs, no blood stains on the floor, nothing. Tons of things for a spirit to throw around, though, so I don't think the lobby's the safest place to stay."

"Except whatever it is hasn't made a move yet," Sam pointed out. "It knows we're here, or it wouldn't have locked us in. It's like it's..."

Waiting. Dean tightened his grip on his gun. Whatever it was, it was waiting. "We'll try the doors again," Dean said. To Bethany, he ordered, "You stay with us. You don't wander off on your own; you latch onto one of us and you don't let go. You hear me?"

Bethany nodded frantically. "Yeah, not a problem. I can follow orders. I'm good at following directions: you should ask my professors."

Freaked out but willing to play ball. Dean could handle that: it was better than screaming and sobbing. "Okay. Let's try the doors, then." He made his way back around the counter and across the lobby, Sam and Bethany next to him. "What'd you get out of her about Gina?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing," Sam replied, equally as soft. "She never knew her, never knew the Moreles. Complete blank as far as information goes."

Yeah, this was a great start. "First things first: get Bethany out, then move," Dean ordered. With Sam standing behind him and Bethany latched firmly onto his brother, Dean went for the doors. He tried the butt of his gun on the glass, hoping to crack it, but all it did was bounce off. His fingers tried to find a purchase on the inside of the doors where they met, but his tugging got nowhere. Frustrated, he tried the handle again, but nothing happened. The locks had been drilled out, that much was obvious: only the latches to keep the doors shut remained.

"I'll try," Sam said, stepping forward. Bethany moved to stand beside Dean while Sam examined the doors carefully. He gaged the distance, planted his feet, then lifted his leg to kick the doors open.

He never even touched them. Sam suddenly went flying backwards and across the lobby. "Sam!" Dean shouted, turning and running after him. The elevator in the back of the lobby, beneath the balcony, suddenly dinged, and the doors opened in time for Sam to land inside. The doors shut impossibly quick, and Dean slammed into them hard. "Sammy!" he shouted.

There was no sound. Dean stepped back and frantically tried to see where the elevator had gone, but all the lights were off. "Did you see what lit up?" he turned to ask Bethany, but found her frozen in the middle of the room, trembling hands covering her mouth. "Bethany!"

She shook her head. "N-None of them lit," she managed a moment later, words muffled by her hands. "Oh my god, you...you guys w-weren't kidding."

Civilian on his hands. None of the stories fitting what was happening.

Sam, missing.

Dean pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes as hard as he could. When he opened them, he had to blink the spots away, but he felt more focused. He glanced at the numbers on the elevator again. B, L, 2, 3, 4, 5. Basement, lobby, floors two through five. Plenty of places to go.

That meant they were gonna have to start exploring, exactly what Dean hadn't wanted to do.

He cursed under his breath and turned back to Bethany. "Do you know how to fire a gun?" he asked, hating to put her in this position but not having a choice. Bethany shook her head. Salt. She could handle the salt.

He went back for the bags and rummaged around. Sam's own bag was right where he'd dropped it, and it made Dean queasy. Sam had his gun and his flashlight on him. It'd be enough to keep him safe until Dean found him.

He grabbed the canister of salt from the bag and was about to toss it to Bethany when he saw her hands shaking badly. No way was she going to be any help that way. "Something comes at you, you throw salt from this canister at it," he said, holding up the salt for her to see. She nodded, and he made sure she saw that it was back in the bag. He transferred as much from Sam's bag as he could into the other bag without weighing it down, then slung it over his shoulder. "And stay with me."

"We're going upstairs?" she asked, horrified. "Where the people died?"

Dean stared. "Fifth floor?" he asked. "The fire?"

Bethany frowned. "I...I don't think it was a fire. The cops didn't say anything about a fire."

"The cops?" Dean asked, heading for the stairs. He tested the first two and felt them solid under his feet, although they creaked something awful. It'd have to do. "They knew what happened here?"

Reluctantly Bethany followed him up. "They talked about it. The young cops who seemed more prone to gossip. They...they said it was beautiful here," she said quietly. "Lots of nice people, famous people. It seemed nice."

"They knew why it got shut down?" Dean asked, still testing every step as he went. While the carpet gave under his boot, the stair itself didn't. Even if it was creaky as hell.

Not that that would've stopped him; a flash flood rushing down from the second floor wouldn't have stopped him from getting up there if it meant finding Sam.

"Yeah. They said it was just awful."

'It' could be a lot of things. Fire, the flash flood Dean had just imagined, to name a few. "What happened?" he asked, making it to the second balcony. He held a hand back to Bethany, moving his flashlight and gun left and right down the hallways. Nothing but dark, empty halls with closed doors. He gestured for Bethany to come up. "Did they see the fire?"

"They didn't say anything about a fire," she said. "They said that there was-"

When Bethany stopped abruptly, Dean turned back to the right to see what had caught her attention. She was staring down the hallway he'd just looked down, eyes wide and scared.

At the end of the hallway, back-lit by a faded light from the stairwell, stood the figure of a man. Dean couldn't see his face or anything about him.

The only thing Dean could see was the large axe hanging in his right hand. Something dripped slowly from the tip of the axe to the floor.

"Blood," Bethany whispered, terrified. "They said there was blood."