Hotel California (Dean Winchester X Reader)

Learning as You Go

"So you sit around and look at books and computers for hours?" You asked, as you turned the page of the third book of the day. After your speech of wanting to help, Dean had pulled you along, leaving Sam behind to search around the internet.

"Yeah, it's not the most glamorous part of the job, but it's what gets things done." He told you, as he tossed another heavy book to the side. The two of you had been lucky, the hotel kept a nice sized library, books all about it's long and glorious history. You and Dean had combed through most of it, looking for the mysterious girl who was killing off people who were staying at the hotel.

"I really don't mind." You told him truthfully. "It kind of reminds me of my old job. I used to spend hours going through manuscripts, each day. This seems a little more exciting."

"You're perfect for this job." He told you, his green eyes staring over the book towards you. "Not that I want to talk anyone into hunting, hell I would rather talk you out of it. But you adapted really well, and you would be great at the research part with Sammy. It would be great to have you around."

Blushing under the compliment, you decided to dig a little deeper. "Is that the only reason you would want to keep me around?" You spoke softly, your eyes eagerly searching his forest green ones. 

He shook his head, reaching over to grab your hand. "No. It's just an excuse to keep you around me a little longer. I really enjoy having you around." 

"I like being around." You answered, but contrary to your words, you leaned back, your hand slipping from Dean's. He glanced at you confused, but then understanding dawned when Sam plunked down in the seat next to him.

"Have you guys found anything?" Sam asked, placing his laptop down on the table in front of him.

Dean shook his head." Nada. This place keeps good records, but they are full of famous people who stayed here, renovations made, things like that. The happy memories. Nothing about who might have died here."

Sam nodded, before opening his laptop. "I was afraid of that. But I think I might have found something. I was looking up obituaries, and I found one that was printed in 1901. Did her clothes seem that old fashioned to you?"

You thought back to the girl you had seen. "Her nightgown could have been from that era. It was white, and extra frilly, with long capped sleeves. It went down to her ankles. Her hair was long, almost waist length, and curly too, as if she had taken it down from a fancy updo."

Sam was busy typing away on his keyboard, but soon he was turning the computer your direction. "Did she look like this?" He asked you, and you pulled it closer to you, peering in at the grainy black and white picture. It looked like the same woman, with her high cheekbones, and full lips. She had a sad, shy smile about her, but in truth she was a very beautiful person. Instead of the white nightgown she was wearing a fancy gown, one of an undetermined color. Her hair was placed casually atop her head, trendils framing her face.

"Yeah, this looks a lot like her." You said, but before Sam could pull his laptop back you stopped him, reading the obituary. Her name was Anna Wilkinson, and she was only 19 when she died. Her parents had been wealthy socialites, one of the most prominent families from Maine. They had been in town, meeting up with her fiancee when she had taken her own life. 

"That's horrible." You whispered, feeling sorry for the girl, wondering what had been so horrible that she didn't want to live anymore. "Can you find anything else out about her?" 

He nodded, pulling it back. "Only that she was cremated which poses a problem. But I will keep digging."

"Well, now that we know who she is, maybe we can finally find something in these books." Dean said, and you nodded, but before you did any more looking, you stood up.

Dean peered up at you. "Where are you going?"

Your back hurt from bending over the table so long, and you stretched your neck as you explained. "I just need a little break. I'm going to grab something from my room, then I will be right back." You said, even though you were a little nervous to be heading back to your room. Afraid that she would come back and try something once again. But you didn't want to let Dean see how afraid you were, scared that it would push him away.

"I can come with you." Dean suggested, pushing his chair back.

You waved him off. "No, I will be quick. It's okay."

He nodded, but didn't seem happy. "Well, at least take these." He told you, handing you a weird looking knife, and a container full of salt. You must have given him a weird look, because he started explaining. "The knife is Iron, which repels ghosts. Also the salt does the same thing. If she shows up, slash at her with the knife, make yourself a circle with the salt, and call me. Promise?"

You nodded, before turning and heading for the stairs. As you got closer to your door, your feet started dragging, and your heart started pounding. You had put on a good show for Sam and Dean, but truthfully, you were scared to death to enter your room again, especially by yourself. But you wanted your cell phone, and a sweatshirt to wear down in the library where it was a little chilly.

Your hand on the door knob, you took a deep settling breath, telling yourself that you were a hunter in training, you could do this. Glancing up and down the hallway, you pulled the knife out when you saw you were alone. Pushing the door opened, you stepped inside. The room felt normal, no cold spots, or as if someone was watching you.

Moving fast, you grabbed your cell phone off of the nightstand, along with a charger and your purse. Opening a drawer, you went to pull out your old, comfortable sweatshirt, when you found something on it that hadn't been there before. Squinting your eyes in confusion, you bent down, retrieving the old, leathery book that was now laying on top of your sweatshirt. Picking it up, you turned it so you could see the cover, noticing the heart that had been branded onto the leather, but no other clues as to what it was. 

Carefully opening the first page, you saw the careful flowing handwriting. It read Anna Wilkinson's personal journal. Gasping in surprise, you flipped to the next page. It was dated August 31, 1900, almost exactly a year before she died. Wondering if the ghost had decided you were friend, not foe, you grasped it to your chest, forgetting all about your sweatshirt. Your phone in your purse, you locked the door, and rushed down the stairs, almost bumping into an elderly couple who gave you a dirty look. "People these days." They muttered at your back, but you ignored them.

Rounding the door to the library, you saw Dean's eyes scanning the entrance, no doubt awaiting your return worriedly. Upon seeing you he relaxed, his shoulders slouching a little in relief. You skidded to a stop in front of him, holding the book out.

"Sam, Dean, I think I have something that could help us!" You exclaimed, earning glares from the rest of the libraries patrons. You handed the journal over. "This was in my room, on top of my clothes actually. I have no idea how it got there."

As you talked you sat back down in your seat across from them, watching as they gingerly flipped to the front page. "Wait, this is her journal? I wonder how it got in your room?" Sam said, leaning close to his brother to read along with him.

"I'm not sure, but the first entry is dated almost a year before her death. Maybe there is something in there that can help us." You reiterated, happy that you were able to contribute something to the hunt.

Dean set the book down, a frown on his face. You were surprised to see it, and you wondered what put it there. "But if she gave this to us, to help solve our case, then why did she attack you? And why is she killing people?"