wayward: supernatural one-shots

hotel schmotel

Empire Lakeshore Inn, Michigan, 2006.

"Please tell me you've found something ." Sam says, his nose buried in a book. He and his brother have been anything but lazy for the past three hours, trying to find some sort of lead on the odd crimes that have started up again. He looks back down at the book but never gets a reply. He looks back up. "Dean!"

Dean jumps up, obviously disoriented, and starts rambling a long line of different versions of "what?", "huh?", and "I'm up, I'm up!".

"Seriously, dude? How can you sleep with all of this going on?"

"Well, Sammy, I'm used to getting four hours of sleep, not none ."

"That's a lie, and you know it. You've hunted on zero hours of sleep before."

"Yeah, well, it's not good for you to miss one night of sleep, let alone two."

"You didn't sleep last night, either?"

"Doesn't matter. Did you find anything?"

"You're avoiding my question."

"Not your original one."

Sam rolls his eyes. He loves his big brother, he really does. He looks up to him more than he ever did his dad. He actually kind of looks down on his dad, but not on Dean. The only reason he has to look down on Dean every day is because he is taller.

"Dean, you have to sleep." he sighs and rolls his eyes again. Dean was at the fridge pulling a Pepsi out of the small fridge in their crappy three-star Motel room- they can't afford much, and, with as much as they travel, there's no point in buying a house. They'd never live in it. Honestly, Sam is surprised that his older brother hasn't resorted to living in his beloved car, his black 1967 Chevrolet Impala.

"Yeah, get this." Sam gives in. His brother doesn't like to talk about his feelings. He always changes the subject or gives off a sarcastic comment. In all honesty, Sam's not much better. Sam is always too worried about Dean to worry about himself, and Dean has always made his number one priority to protect Sam, and they both would rather say "I'm fine" rather than burden each other with their own thoughts and feelings. "North Korea has an unoccupied hotel that's one-hundred-and-five stories tall."

"And?" Dean says sarcastically. "Hate to break it to you, but we're in America, Sammy."

"Let me finish," Sam says, his lips pressing against his teeth as he did so. "There's also a library in Morocco, the al-Qarawiyyin Library, which is also the oldest working library in the world."

"And?" Dean says again. "What's the name of the hotel?"

Sam gave him an odd look.

"Just curious." Dean shrugs.

"Fine. It's called the Ryugyong Hotel, but it's been nicknamed "The Hotel of Doom"."

"I still don't understand." Dean rubs his hand across the bridge of his nose. "One building was abandoned, and the other wasn't. There's no connection between the de-"

"Check this." Sam side-eyes his big brother, in an effort to tell him to shut up . "A group of teenagers stayed in the hotel the night the accident happened. It was built in 1987, and was set to open in 1992 after its planned height was reached."

"But it never did." Dean says, sitting across from Sam at the motel's kitchen table.

"Exactly. Basically, it was just problems with building methods and materials that kept it from ever actually opening."