CHAPTER III: Hunt or Vacation?
"….Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief. Ain't got a hope in hell, that's my belief." Sam jumped suddenly as Dean and Brian Johnson's vocals torpedoed the bliss he had been enjoying in snoozey land, followed immediately by a booming thud as his skull decided tangoing with the roof of the Impala was in order.
"Deeaaan!" Sam groused, rubbing his now reverberating cranium.
"Rise and shine cupcakes." Dean cheered in a singsong voice. "We got work and times a-wasting." He pulled to the shoulder of the road and killed the engine.
"Er, Dean. Where are we?" All that was currently visible was desert and the road.
"Half-an-hour from Sedona, so come on." Dean patted Sam's knee and opened his door. Sam mirrored his action and followed too the back of the car where Dean had opened the trunk and was now rifling through his bag.
"Get your clothes out." Sam looked at his brother, wondering what he could be up to now. "I mean it Sam-o clothes out." Dean restated, upending his own bag and began sorting through the various pieces of clothing.
"What for?" Sam asked as he unzipped his bag.
"Because," Dean said as he held up a shirt for inspection "the Aqua Horizon Spa and Inn is a bloody four star private resort and we'll stick out faster then a summer storm in the desert if we go in looking modern Clint Eastwood retro." Dean held up a worn T-shirt sporting the faint outlines of old bloodstains to emphasize the point. "Nope," he tossed the shirt to a pile that was apparently the 'unsuitable' collection, "I think I prefer first class service to battle worn cowboy right now."
Sam looked at his brother oddly. "Uuuuuuuuuuh Dean, what are you talking about?" Sam asked slowly.
"Come on Sammy." Dean clapped his brother lightly on the shoulder and stuffed what Sam guessed passed as an 'acceptable' pair of jeans back into his duffle. "It's a spa resort. Do you have any idea what that means? Room service, swimming pools, private bar; oh, not to mention," here Dean cast a glance over his shoulder as if to ensure no one was in hearing distance, despite the fact that there wasn't so much as a fly to be seen in any direction, and whispered conspiratorially to his brother, "masseuse chicks." Dean leaned back and nodded at Sam with eyebrows raised suggestively.
Sam's jaw almost cracked on the side of the trunk. "Dean, your not saying what I think you are?"
"You bet I am. Three days of blissful pampering with nary a care in the world."
Now Sam was starting to get scared. Dean had never been one for, well, pampering. And since when had he started using words like 'nary'. "Dean, are you alright?"
"Fantastic-o," Dean chippered, "why do you ask?"
"Well…" Sam hesitated, "how do you plan on paying for this? I mean the rooms are gonna cost at least, what, four-five hundred bucks a night."
"Six hundred actually." Dean corrected, "I ordered a double room with a view of the canyon."
"Uuuuuuuuh, huh?" was all Sam could manage. Six hundred bucks a night, since when did they have that kind of cash?
"Where do you think I was all those nights on the way down here?" Dean's triumphant look was only bolstered by his brother's nonplussed one.
Sam personally had no idea. In every town or city they had stopped over in on the way to their last job Dean would ask if Sam wanted to accompany him out for the night, then shrug when Sam refused on the grounds of wanting to do more research and leave till the wee hours of the morning. Sam assumed he had been out working the Winchester charm and didn't complain since it meant he got to drive in the morning when his older sibling was too tuckered out.
Now it appeared his initial opinion may not be as accurate as he thought.
Dean huffed. "Cleaning out the locals, what else."
Sam stared at Dean shocked. "Wha…what? Why?" Normally he and Dean had no problem earning enough for a week or more with one night's pool hustling or card winnings. What had his brother been doing that he would need to spend almost a week's worth of evenings plundering the bar patron's bill folds.
"Hey, never know when the occasional emergency like this will come along. Besides I was planning to suggest a break after that last job, I think we deserve it." Dean chippered. He managed to ignore the uncomfortable way his stomach slithered at the little white lie. Now was not the time for long soul searching reminisces, they had a job to do and he by golly wasn't gonna take his own sweet time at it. Not when there were chicks and evil nasties awaiting the honor of making the acquaintance of the one and only bad boy demon hunter Dean Winchester.
Sam decided not to probe any further, Dean had probably just been giving him space to sort things out in his own way. He felt twangs of guilt for having caused his brother any undue worry and resolved not to push further but to instead indulge his rather exorbitant plan. So he turned to sorting out his own bag while listening as Dean laid out the details of his plan for their upcoming vacation/hunt.
What? The guy deserved a holiday or two after having put up with his younger siblings self-pity brooding all last month.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sam winced at the site that greeted them at the entrance of the main hotel building. The driveway had once been bordered by delicately tended flowerbeds and immaculate lawns that ran the length of the building. A small fountain had sat in the middle of the island at the end, around which the lane curled to meet the entrance of the main lobby.
Now it looked like a stampede of wild beasts had used it for a training ground. Yellow police tape only adding to the dismal scene.
"Uh, Dean?" Sam asked as a uniformed officer left the shade of a large tree where he had been trying to find some relief from the sun and started for the car. "I know it's a bit late to be asking, but are they even still taking clients? I mean look at the place."
"Course." Dean switched off the stereo and rolled down his window as the frowning man approached the car.
"Can I help you?" Dean rolled his eyes as if the answer should be obvious.
"Yes where do we park the car and how do we get in past all that." He waved a hand in the direction where several detectives where carefully examining the area.
"I'm sorry sir." The guy shook his head. "You are not allowed to enter the crime scene."
"Then inform me how you intend I get to my room!" Somewhere along the line Dean had managed to perfect the air of one accustomed to not having their orders questioned that came with the territory where lots of money was involved.
"Um, sir?" The officer was starting to look slightly bewildered. "Are you planning on staying here?"
"Yes I am planning on staying." Dean all but growled as if the man was upstairs challenged. "Now how the hell do I get in!"
The man frowned but pointed back down the drive. "There is a side entrance just through there," he waved to where a smaller lane ran from the main road between tall hedges to disappear from sight
Dean nodded tersely and pulled slowly away. "Are you planning on staying here?" he shook his head when they were out of earshot. "And we're paying them to guard and protect the good citizens."
"Not really a big surprise Dean." Sam admonished. "He's just doing his job."
"Yeah yeah." Dean 'harrumphed' and angled the Impala into the lane. The narrow drive, just barely wide enough for two cars, twisted around looping corners hidden by the tall bushes and he needed to listen incase someone was coming from the opposite direction. Thankfully they managed to navigate the turns with no interruption- Dean mumbling periodically about what he would sue them if anything happened to his baby- before reaching their destination.
As they pulled up to the entrance a uniformed bellhop came forward to receive them. Dean remained adamantly in the driver seat while Sam got out.
"Would you like me to park your car sir?" The hotel employee asked. Dean gave the guy a once over and grimaced. The kid couldn't be older than nineteen and looked fresh out of high school. Hell would have to freeze over several times before he was going to let anyone, much less some baby faced, hormonal geek who's driving experience was most likely limited to driver's ed and the hotel visitor's cars, touch his precious baby.
"No! Thank you! I'd like to do it myself." Dean felt that smudge of gleeful pride he always got when people started making eyes at his girl. She never failed to incite jealous admiration in pretty much everyone who saw her and this guy looked like he had been practically drooling to get behind the wheel since he laid eyes on her. From his expression now you would have thought his parents just confiscated his porn stash.
Dean managed to hide a creeped out shudder and got directions to the parking lot while Sam pulled their bags from the trunk. Unlike his brother however, he accepted the boy's offer to cart the bags on a trolley. He had a lot of books and saw no reason not to take advantage of the service. Dean was paying.
Trailing a few feet behind, he followed as the guy rolled the cart down a hall done in tasteful mahogany and earthy tones. He couldn't help wondering what it cost to run a place like this. One of those decorative vases or paintings was worth enough to buy ammo for several months.
Their destination was the main lobby that he had seen through the crime seen earlier. Here more tape marked off several feet where remnants of the once beautifully etched glass French doors now lay scattered like a thousand worthless diamonds across the front of the room.
Whereas most people would have averted their eyes and hurried on, Sam studied the area with professional interest. Blood splattered the floor like some gruesome child's finger painting, standing out sharply against a stone floor artfully engraved.
His note taking was cut short when they reached the desk. Here too the clerk was surprised anyone would want to stay. "Everyone else left and almost all reservations have been canceled," was the woman's apologetic explanation for her skepticism.
Sam wasn't sure if this was good or bad since it meant they wouldn't have to deal with the upper class that would normally be here. But it also meant the staff would be freer to keep an eye on their only customers. Still he was all charm and breezed through their excuse for paying in cash. "Our parent's have a habit of tracing us with our cards when we're on vacation."
Sam had to choke down the riot forming in his gut. If his mom were alive and dad was still with them he would gladly have put up with any kind of nagging if it meant his family was happy and whole
The clerk glanced at him understandingly from where she was typing in the necessary information but dismissed the slightly hitched breathing as a natural reaction to the new Halloween motifs gracing the foyer. Sam noticed and snagged a cold fist on his emotional panel. Slips were to be expected but he would not let his feelings jeopardize their game.
Taking the plastic key cards the lady set before him when she was done, Sam hurried to the room. All the finery and polite mannerism was very much starting to remind him of Stanford. The posh décor and shallowness of the people that he knew gravitated to it never failed to leave a bad taste in this mouth. Still he managed a polite exterior as he tipped the bellhop and waited till the boy was gone before texting the room number to
Dean.
"Whoa! Nice digs they got here." Dean whistled as he commandeered the contents of the room's complimentary gift baskets. The chocolates alone cost more than a box of shotgun shells.
"Hey those aren't all for you, you pig." Sam snatched at his basket before Dean could get a second hand in.
"Oh shove off Mr. Heath Freak," Dean snickered and swiped another goodie. "You can enjoy the spoils after we find out what's a-takin' the god folk of this place in such a fright."
Sam's eyes closed a hair's width as he cautiously reached into the bag that held the weapons and other hunting materials at the foot of the bed. Carefully watching the man on the other side of the room, he retrieved a bottle and stood. Moving like a panther timing its pounce he made sure the other was happily occupied filching the last contents of the basket, then…
"What the fuck was that Sam!" Dean roared as he turned on his brother who stood clutching the now empty canteen.
"Uh... um… I… uh." Sam stammered, hanging onto the canteen like a life support.
"You were acting weird." He squeaked and backed away as Dean's look rose to the 'pissed because of some idiot's stupidity' plane.
"And how, pray tell, was I being 'weird'?" Dean inquired at dangerously cool levels. Sam 'ulped', the last time Dean had that look was after finding out his 'healing' was the product of a bound reaper.
"Well," he smiled nervously, "all the old English talk for one."
"What?" Dean snorted. "It's my 'Men in Tights' impersonation."
Sam suppressed a shudder. "Do I even want to know when you watched that?"
Dean 'happy puppy' grinned. "Don't tell me you've never checked out Amy Yasbeck's ass in that iron underwear." Wriggling his eyebrows he began humming the theme song for said movie.
Sam decided it best to ignore Dean and instead headed to check out the crime scene. Dean barely waved in acknowledgement as he started stripping. Sam left in a hurry without asking, he probably didn't want to know.
Dean with unlimited excuses for A: flirting, B: driving his little brother to a heart attack from pure insanity, and no dad to put the stopper on him. Sam was certainly glad it was a working vacation. Dean plus nothing to do equals bad things.
If he survived this break/job he was never letting Dean pick their vacations spots again!
Let the insanity begin. Good luck Sammy.
Should anyone else care to vote themselves as the cheering/medic squad the little button down there is just waiting for you to volunteer.