"Well, this is...underwhelming."
Sam and Dean looked up at the unassuming gray stone building on an otherwise empty side-street. The door was a solid block of steel with a faded impression in the middle that just barely looked like the outline of an eye. Above the door was a cheap looking security camera.
Dean gave Sam an accusing glare which he chose not to acknowledge. Instead he knocked on the door; the rapping of his knuckles rang out hollowly through the emptiness of the street. Several uncomfortable moments passed.
"Oh, well, look at that. No one's home. Let's just go, ok Sam? Either the dude flaked on us, or he's waiting inside to jump us, steal our organs, and sell them on the black market."
"That's just an urban legend, Dean." Sam huffed in irritation and knocked again.
"In our dimension it's an urban legend. But this world who knows." Sam ignored him and continued pounding on the door.
"Hello? Mr. Hanvelsing?" Sam called. He pointedly did not look at Dean, who was shooting him a look so full of incredulity it could have killed Tinkerbell. Sam ignored it with the practiced ease of a younger sibling.
Just as Sam was about to give in and endure an endless tirade of smug "I told you so's" from Dean, a mechanical clank came from inside the door, and it swung slowly inward with an ominous groan. Sam hesitated, wondering if Dean might have been right about the organ harvesting.
"Finally," Dean muttered, pushing past Sam into the darkened interior of the building. In his surprise, Sam was too slow to grab Dean as he shoved past.
"Dammit Dean," he griped, starting to rush after him. Halfway through the door, it occurred to him that it was a terrible idea to run pell mell into a building that had remotely controlled doors. He paused just inside the door and grabbed a wooden stake out of his bag, shoving it between the door and the latch. Once he was satisfied that he and Dean weren't about to be locked in a windowless tomb, he rushed after his impetuous brother.
They stumbled into a long, empty, concrete hallway lit by flickering florescent lights. Sam rushed after Dean's hurried stride, glancing back at the entrance with trepidation.
"For better or worse," he thought grimly, "we're back in it." They had to follow through with it now, and Sam could do nothing but follow Dean's impatient stride towards the end of the hallway.
It looked vaguely like an abandoned apartment building further on the inside, with boarded up doors on either side. At the end of the hallway was a small lobby with an single elevator. The door stood open, carriage well lit and inviting. As Sam caught up to Dean, who was staring at the open doors with an anticipatory gleam in his gorgeous green eyes, he tried one final time to derail the inevitable.
"Dean," he entreated, attempting vainly to be the voice of reason, "we don't have to do this. Let's just go."
"And go where, Sammy?" He asked, eyes remaining glued to the elevator. "You said it yourself, this guy's our only lead." Sam twitched.
"I know. But this Andrew guy, or whoever, obviously wants us to get on that elevator. And it's all seeming pretty trap-like. Maybe, for once, we can not walk directly into it." He paused, waiting to see how Dean would react. He didn't have to wait long. Dean smirked and strode confidently into the waiting jaws of the lift. He turned around with an infuriatingly cocky grin.
"C'mon, Sammy. What fun would that be?" Sam frowned disapprovingly, but ultimately couldn't resist the magnetic charm of that maddening smile and joined Dean in the elevator. The door closed slowly, and they began to descend.
They stared ahead straight ahead, glancing at each other in the reflective metal of the inner door.
"You're a moron," Sam deadpanned. That just made Dean smile harder.
It wasn't long before the elevator reached the sub basement. The door opened onto yet another hallway. Instead of the bare, almost abandoned look of the first hallway, this one looked like the inside of cheesey, B-movie vampire's lair. The floor was covered in a thick, red carpet. Ornate gold sconces with giant torches illuminated the oak panelled hallway with flickering shadows.
Dean and Sam shared a look. If it were to be verbalized, it might have been something akin to "Dude what the Hell?" followed by "I don't know."
The cautiously stepped from the elevator. Sam noticed that Dean had his hand on his gun, and Sam did the same. They expected an attack, but none came. Warily, they made their way down the surreal, horror-esque hallway toward the decorative double doors at the end.
Dean placed a firm hand on the door, the other securely on his weapon. He looked to Sam.
"You ready?" he asked quietly. Sam nodded solemnly. With an unspoken signal, Dean threw open the doors and they stormed into the room with weapons drawn.