The Dark Forces of the Devil's Hotel

Golden Eye

Just when Dean thought the night couldn't go any further sideways, a ghost decided to do some renovations right in front of them.

When he saw Ryan pull Sam away from the end of the second hallway, he really had no explanation for the action. Yet, he'd decided to follow suit just a second after and pull Shane to one side as well. Dean hadn't known either of them very long, but Ryan seemed to have an intuition for things that reminded him of a younger Sam's instincts. If he felt trouble, Dean would rather stay on the side of caution (literally) because like hell was he going to let anyone die tonight.

Whatever Ryan had sensed, or seen, or thought, had turned out to be correct, because another not-so-friendly undead face had popped up shortly after, and all Dean could do as the ceiling became a makeshift, rubble pile of a new wall was try to scramble backwards as far and as best as he could.

Dust and various other particles suddenly filled the stale hotel air in a disgusting cloud, and even over the roar of the old building breaking off another piece of itself, Dean could still hear Shane coughing as it blew right into their faces. Dean had managed to tuck his face into the crook of his elbow. It wouldn't completely shield him, but it was better than inhaling dirt.

The worst of the collapse finished, and Dean, relegated to the floor during the chaos, slowly reached a hand into his jacket to find his lighter. The flashlight was in one of the duffel bags, the one he'd been carrying before the second floor vomited itself onto the first, and it would be better to at least have some light to help him search for it instead of fumbling around blind in a hall now filled with all kinds of things that could easily pierce right through his hand.

A small flame sparked to life on the first try, but a chill ran down Dean's spine and an inexplicable breeze quickly killed off the tiny light source.

What sounded like a hushing noise came from behind him, as if this were a library and not a demon's stomping grounds. Dean almost whipped his head around to look at it, even though he wouldn't be able to see anything, but resisted the urge. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up and the air was electric, charged with an energy Dean really did not enjoy, like lightning and nausea had a baby.

There was no movement to Dean's left either. Shane could have passed out or even died, but without testing either idea Dean had a feeling that neither were true. Something told him that Shane was sitting frozen like he was, immobilized on the ground by this intangible force that coerced them into stillness.

What felt like hours but was probably only about a minute later, the strange feeling that surrounded them fizzled out, and Dean involuntarily shuddered as it left. Only when it was gone did Dean realize how hard to breathe it had been with the odd malaise hanging around, how relieved his body felt now that it had vanished. It felt like the strange energy had been constricting every single one of his organs with static electricity, like the small shock on one's fingertip after walking across a carpet and touching a metal door handle had found its way deep inside of him. Faint pins and needles tickled Dean's extremities, a distant smell of sulfur stuck in his nose and the tangy taste of metal perched on his tongue.

Dean counted to ten in his head, just in case. When nothing happened, he dared to ignite the lighter again, bracing himself for the possibility that something would jump out at him from the dark.

The small fleck of orange and red wasn't enough to cut through the darkness, especially with Dean's eyes trying to adjust. He was definitely going to have to move around cautiously if he wanted the small flame to help him see anything.

Dean was about to quietly call out Shane's name to check on him, since he couldn't quite see him in the very dim lighting, but Shane beat him to the first word.