Supernatural Oneshots | ✓

Legends, Superstitions, and Other Dark Things {Dean}

Prompt inspiration: 642 Tiny Things to Write About by The San Francisco Writers' Grotto

Prompt: Invent a legend about your hometown. Invent a corresponding superstition.

Summary/prompt change: After Sam disappears into the old Elite Meadows Hotel, Dean recruits a pretty local that's pretty familiar with the legend to help get him out.

"And you said your brother went in there and hasn't come out yet?"

"Yes," the man, Dean, said. He was getting visibly frustrated. "Will you help or not?"

"No." You said. You poured yourself a cup of coffee. "I won't."

His head snapped up. "What?"

"You and your brother, no offense, are both idiots." You said stiffly. "Going into Elite Meadows? Are you insane? Where else do you think our local superstitions came from?"

Dean cocked his head to the side. "Superstitions?"

You nodded, your teeth tugging at your lower lip. "There are a few. Not going into a garden alone is one. Stepping on red or pink tulips means that your family will die a bloody death at the hands of someone close to you. Never tell a secret in a hallway."

"And everyone follows these?"

You nodded. "Of course. I mean, look what happened in Elite Meadows."

Dean seemed to be familiar with the story. A girl not much older than you was staying in the hotel with her parents and siblings a few decades ago while passing through town. She went into the garden alone at night in an attempt to cure her insomnia, and she stumbled and fell onto red tulips. When she stood, she crushed the pink tulips. A day or so later, she and a boy were in the hallway, apparently whispering. She was allegedly telling him something that was such a well-kept and trusted secret that even after he murdered her and his family, while he was sitting during his trial, he refused to spill the secret.

He leaned forward. "Look, I know it's a taboo around here to even discuss going into the hotel, but I really need your help. You're the person that knows the most about the hotel, and you're the only one that would understand what's going to happen when we try to rescue my brother." He ran a hand over his face. "I'm desperate. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

You looked away from his face. You wouldn't be able to resist him if you kept looking.

He laughed darkly. "If it was my brother here instead of me, you'd be putty in his hands right now. He'd fix you with this puppy dog look that would make you do whatever he wanted."

"Yes, well, you're here and not your brother. Go find someone else to help."

He sighed and stood as you took a sip of your coffee and turned back to your computer to start your work. The door didn't shut, and after a minute, you looked up.

Dean was still half in your office, watching you with an unreadable look on his face. "If you happen to change your mind, I'll be there at five. I'll be going in five minutes after that."

"I won't." You assured him. "But thank you for the assurance."

He nodded and started to leave.

"Oh, and Dean?" He turned. You didn't look at him, but you smiled, fingers clicking against your keyboard. "Good luck finding your brother."

You were angry at yourself for falling into it, but the image of Dean's hopeless, pleading look was burned into your memory. You stomped down the block that lead to the decomposing structure of the hotel, the old building outlined in the dying light of the day.