Winchester Ghost Tours

Flicker

"Well, there were still the lights," says Dean, frowning at the five-foot-nothing hotel manager.

"This is the oldest part of the hotel, The original Campbell House was built in the eighteen hundreds and all the electrical components were added later. They've been updated over the years, but I'm afraid, especially in this part of the building, the wiring is in need of repair."

"And the cold spots?" asks Dean.

"Same story with the air-conditioning—it wasn't original with the house, obviously."

"It's an old building," says Castiel, and Dean immediately glares at him as though he's somehow siding with the short manager with her black suit dress and a maroon shirt.

"But how do you explain the EMF meter?" asks Dean, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I'm sorry, your..." The manager's smile is still firmly in place, but her eyes are shifty like she's now doubting Dean's sanity.

"You made it yourself," says Castiel, his tone patient; nonjudgmental. "Perhaps there are some bugs in the design?"

Dean frowns, and the sound of quiet sniffling grows louder. He looks up in time to see the groom, still in his tuxedo, grinning widely as he offers his hand.

"Hey, man, no hard feelings, sorry she scared you," says the groom, grinning somehow wider. "This is a story we'll definitely be telling our grandkids."

"Uh, yeah, sorry for the misunderstanding," says Dean.

"Is there anything else?" asks the manager.

When Castiel and Dean shake their heads, she turns and begins talking to the bride, still sniffling in front of the Honeymoon Suite's door. Her long, white dress looks very classic and modern when the lights are on, and less like a frightening specter.

Dean slowly makes his way toward the door across the hall and waits for Castiel to open the Presidential Suite. Castiel waits until the door clicks shut behind them before speaking.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"What are you apologizing for this time?"

"The hunt," says Castiel, frowning as he flips a switch and the antique lamps on the walls blink to life. "I have to admit, I was rather spooked when the bride walked out of the elevator."

"Yeah, not as spooked as she was, apparently," says Dean, shoving his hands through his hair. "Oh well, more wedding memories for them, and another failed ghost hunt for me."

"I wouldn't say it's a failure," says Castiel, a strange smile turning up his lips. "There is definitely something old and eerie about this place. If even I can feel it, then it can't be fake. The electricity flickers, the walls creak, and the elevator groans, anyone in search of the supernatural or haunted history would enjoy a visit here."

"Damn, mind if I steal that for my book," mutters Dean, trying to memorize Castiel's phrasing. "And, look, I'm sorry, too."

"For..."

"Running away," says Dean, hanging his head. "I know it's not the most mature reaction, but everything was overwhelming, and well..."

"It's alright, Dean. I think we can both agree that we made some mistakes in this relationship."

Dean sighs as he shrugs out of the rented suit jacket. He carefully hangs it on the back of a chair in the large Presidential Suite. The excessive room includes a sitting area with couch and recliners, a small dinette area, and a fully stocked kitchen. Double doors lead to a bedroom with a giant king-sized bed with a fluffy white comforter.