What the hell is going on? Who: The Winchesters & The Candy Twins What: Sam & Dean arriving at the hotel When: Jump 1, Day 1, Morning Where: The lobby of the hotel Warnings: Language Status: Completed
Sam didn't fully understand what had just happened. One minute his brother had been in the car next to him, the next he was in a field about a mile away. Still, he was sort of reluctant to question too much when they were both apparently unharmed by the Darkness that had just engulfed them. It was preferable to get back to the car and find out exactly what damage had been done, might as well get it over with, right?
He kept casting sideways glances at Dean, as if scanning him for the slightest thing that could be wrong that he might've missed on first inspection, but as they neared the car he became aware of a niggling sensation to go back inside the restaurant. He stopped walking and frowned slightly, looking over at the building. "Did we.....have we forgotten something inside?" He asked his brother, trying to pinpoint what it could be that was making him feel like he needed to go back in there.
Dean wasn't any more sure of what had just happened than his brother was. As they walked, he tried to run over the last few minutes in his mind, but he couldn't figure out how the hell he'd ended up so far away. He supposed it didn't matter in the grande scheme of things, but as they neared the restaurant, that same uncertain feeling that Sam had welled within him as well.
"Maybe," he said, tilting his head just a little. "Feels like we did. We should check." He was already walking towards the door, pulled as if by some invisible string tied around him. Whatever it was that they'd forgotten, he felt the need to go inside and figure out what it was.
Sam continued to look at the building somewhat blankly, then he nodded and followed Dean towards the door. "Yeah, I guess." He said almost robotically, unable to really focus his thoughts on anything other than the need to go through that door. Honestly, he wasn't sure that they had forgotten anything but he was struggling to remember the last ten minutes, let alone what had happened before that.
He fell into step beside Dean as they veered away from the impala and without hesitation he reached out for the handle of the door, pulling it open towards them and stepping into the delapidated restaurant beyond.
Only it wasn't the restaurant. It was some sort of hallway with a desk at the far end. Sam had a vague feeling that this wasn't right but it was pretty quickly brushed aside. He only turned briefly when the door closed, barely even aware or concerned whether Dean was still following him or not. His thoughts were pretty much consumed with getting to that desk.
Dean too felt drawn to the door and, once inside, felt drawn towards the desk after his brother. His brain felt fuzzy. Filled with cotton. He wasn't sure why he wanted to walk up to the desk or why it didn't seem to matter that the restaurant had disappeared and they' ended up somewhere else entirely. He wasn't even all that aware of his brother's presence near him. His feet carried him towards the desk and the guestbook that lay on the counter.
Before he could even really form the thought, he was picking up a pen and signing his name in the guestbook. No sooner had he done so, a number appeared beside his name. He put the pen down and picked up a small PDA that lay on the counter and it was at that moment that whatever spell he'd been under seemed to break. He blinked, looked at the object, looked around himself, and finally landed his eyes on his brother. "What the hell, Sammy?"
Sam was about a split second behind Dean, still writing his name as Dean regained his senses. When he picked up the PDA the fog lifted and Sam looked as if someone had knocked the wind out of him. He did almost exactly as his brother had done, glancing at their surroundings before he looked back to Dean. "I....Damned if I know." He said, still shaking his head as if some cobwebs remained.
He looked around at, what appeared to be, the lobby of a hotel. No hotel he'd ever been in of course, but undeniably a hotel none the less. The last thing he remembered clearly was finding Dean and walking back to the car. "You remember how we got here?" He asked his brother. "Or even where 'here' is?"
"If I remembered how we got here or where "here" is, I wouldn't be asking you," he said. "You were the one signing the paper. I figured I got wasted or something and forgot." Or something plausible like that since nothing else seemed to make sense. "Last thing I remember is walking back to the car." And before that, not much more than The Darkness.
His eyes cast around them, realizing they were in a hotel, or what looked like a hotel. He didn't recognize it. It was outdated - much like the motels they stayed in on the regular - but he couldn't remember ever being inside this one. "A hotel?"
"I was the one signing the paper? What'd you call that?" Sam said a little impatiently and pointed at his brother's signature just above his in what was apparently a guest book. "This says we have rooms assigned." He said, changing tone almost effortlessly, earlier annoyance seemingly forgotten. Sam didn't remember checking in here, he sure as hell didn't remember why they would need to. Was there a case that had brought them here? Surely it couldn't be anything more pressing than The Darkness that they would have just up and left. Or maybe this was The Darkness, maybe this was a hotel in town and something had happened to their memories because they were in such close proximity to an ancient, biblical evil. That had to be it, right?
Sam didn't get much more time to think about it as his attention was grabbed by the sound of voices. "You hear that?" He said to Dean, lowering his voice. "Sounds like someone's coming from upstairs. Guess we're not the only guests here." He said the word 'guest' in a sarcastic tone. He didn't feel like a guest, he felt like he'd been kidnapped.
It'd been two hours since the last jump, and though Gretel knew there was no reason to be smelling the stagnant, sour air of a world that had been ravaged and left to decay for centuries, she still very much could. Sometimes that happened, depending on how fucked up the world was outside the inn doors; it stuck with you well into the next day. Maybe longer.
Or it could just be the mutant leather jacket her brother insisted on keeping.
"That thing stinks to high heaven," she muttered at him on their way down the staircase, her fingers occupied with the lazy weaving of her hair over one shoulder. Original bodice with all its hiding places for blades in place, but exposed by a hooded duster of some woven material dyed black as pitch, since her riding coat had been lost for weeks. It served well enough, and didn't smell like oil and dead cow-creature they had yet to identify.
Dean looked at the paper that Sam pointed at and furrowed his brow. "I don't remember signing that," he muttered. He was going to say more, to try and talk out what might be going on, but the sound of voices and his brother commenting on it drew his full attention. "Apparently," he said, not liking the thought of being in some creepy place with unknown companions.
"You're just jealous," Hansel replied, brushing his hand over the leather. Maybe it did stink, but he wouldn't admit it. It was awesome. "Maybe it's your upper lip confusing you again." He would have teased her more, but the sound of voices had caught his attention the same way their own had alerted the Winchesters. "Sounds like we're not alone anymore, Gret."
The fact that Dean didn't remember signing the thing would have to wait, the voices were getting closer but their owners still hadn't come into view. Sam exchanged a look with his brother and his hand instinctively went for his gun, there was no telling who these people were after all, or if they were friendly.
He moved slowly towards the staircase, doing his best to stay out of the line of sight of anyone that might be coming down it.
"Jesus Christ- already?" the woman said, mostly under her breath. "That was fucking fast..."
When the hotel floated around purgatory or whatever the hell space was in between worlds, only occasionally did other victims wander in- stuck in the trap like moths in a lantern. They'd only been away from the wasteland for a short time, and now there were two in the lobby? Gretel paused, shoulder to shoulder with her brother, peering over the rail to see if she could spot a glimpse of whoever had been drawn in.
They'd gone quiet, too. She locked eyes with Hansel, her hair abandoned for the heavy crossbow on her shoulder. Sometimes what wandered in wasn't always friendly.
"Who's there-" she chirped out, loud enough for anything in the vicinity to hear.
Dean found the ability to grin a little the moment he realized at least one of the voices belonged to a woman. That made things slightly easier to deal with. They were still in a strange, creepy hotel, though, so it faded pretty quickly. "How 'bout you first, sweetcheeks?"
Hansel arched a brow at his sister. "Sweetcheeks?," he mouthed at her. "What the fuck?"
Sam couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at Dean. "Is that helping? When did a woman ever react well to you calling her that?" He said, still trying to talk quietly so as not to give away his location.
He considered trying to weigh in with his sensible head on but at the moment this could go one of two ways and he didn't want to risk making things worse if there was going to be trouble.
Gretel's eyes rolled as well. Great. One of those.
In silence, she scanned the lobby below from the angle that still provided some cover. She spotted the distinct sway of a shadow where she knew no shadow should be- she and Hansel were more than well-acquainted with the hotel lobby, having been stuck in this hell for going on three months now. She hoisted the steel behemoth up to aim, then let a thick iron bolt loose with a soft thwang. It buckled the tile on the edge of that shadow, buried in the cement beneath. An inch from Dean's foot.
"One more try," she offered, her voice as deadpan as her face.
The arrow, of course, startled Dean. The way he nearly leaped into Sam's arms said as much. It made Hansel smirk broadly. He deserved it for calling his sister some ridiculous pet name when he didn't know her. The bastard.
"What the hell, lady?," Dean muttered, dusting himself off and trying to regain his composure a little. "You're the one in the creepy hotel that we randomly ended up in and we're supposed to answer to you?" He shook his head. "I don't have time for this bullshit. There's the door, Sam, let's get the hell out of here."
Well, there wasn't really anything else for it now, was there? Clearly their location had been compromised and apparently their new company was firing arrows from a much better vantage point. Sam scrubbed a hand over his face.
"Just....lets all hang on a second, okay? Despite first impressions," he looked pointedly at Dean, trying to encourage him to calm down, "my brother and I don't want any trouble. We just wanna know what the hells going on here."
"You won't find anything out that door, sweetcheeks-" Gretel announced at the back of the one whose feathers she'd ruffled. The crossbow was still in her arms, but not aimed- only ready. She had to make a point, considering she knew they'd be stuck together for a long while. At the new angle, they could see him- both of them- and they could see her and her brother. More flimsy clothing; the blue denim. Thin, breezy shirts with buttons. They were clean- except for the obvious signs of a fight on the tall one. Gretel eyed him a bit closer, but stayed on the stair she was perched on.
Hansel knew that whether he liked the two men or not, they were all going to be stuck together or a while. Maybe not a long while if the shorter Winchester was so huffy and ended up getting himself killed or left behind. Already Hansel wasn't considering that too bad an option. First impressions aside, though, he stayed close to his sister and watched from the stairs behind her. "You're free to check it, though, if you want. Go on, I'm sure it's lovely out there."
Dean looked over his shoulder at the pair on the stairs, then at his brother. It was with reluctance that he turned, jaw still set tight. "And why won't I find anything out there?," he asked Gretel, choosing to ignore her brother and his sarcasm.
Sam moved slightly closer to where Dean had stopped, he still held his gun in his hand but it wasn't raised in any sort of inflammatory gesture. He was not an idiot and was not about to open fire on people with a crossbow on higher ground. Especially not when those people might have answers.
"Please," he spoke again, meeting the woman's eye since she seemed to be scrutinising him, "we don't want to be here any more than you want us to be, if that's not the way out then tell us what is and we'll be outta your hair."
Gretel shook her head, and lowered her crossbow a little more. She also sighed, glancing up at Hansel briefly for a shared bit of silent communication. How many times had they gone through this schpiel...
How many more times would there be until they finally cracked and walked out, not coming back.
"It's not like that-" she corrected, sounding more tired than on the offensive. "You're stuck here- just like we're stuck here. Tell me if this sounds familiar: you see a door and suddenly you need to walk through it- maybe you recognize the building. Maybe you forgot something, but you don't know what. You walk in, sign the book, find one ot these-" On the word, her free hand produced a PDA from her back pocket, like the ones they had found on the desk. "And suddenly you don't know where you are or why you're there."
It was only when Gretel raised up the PDA that Dean actually started believing that she wasn't full of shit. It was also when he realized he had one in his own hand. How the hell had that gotten there? He didn't remember picking it up. He blinked at it, then looked back at Gretel. "Stuck here?," he said. "How do you know we're stuck? How long have you been here?"
Hansel laughed. "Too long," he replied. "Long enough to know that you better stay in here and not get left behind if you don't want to end up disappearing into thin air," he muttered. They'd seen it too often. "Long enough to know that everything that walks in through that door isn't always friendly."
Sam listened to the explanation with an even expression, despite a building anxious feeling and a mild confusion at the missing segments of his memory of the last half hour or so. He too glanced at the PDA he was holding when she drew attention to it, making a mental note to give it a more thorough examination once this was straightened out.
"Wait, so..." Sam frowned slightly trying to make some sort of sense of the small pieces of information he had. "We were in a parking lot outside an abandoned restaurant, and when we tried to walk back in there we....came out here? Like some sort of portal?" While he was talking he'd stepped a little closer to the pair on the stairs without realizing it. "But instead of leading back there if we tried to go through again the door won't take us anywhere?"
Gretel nodded once at the set of doors at their backs. "Go see for yourself. It's the thickest fog you've ever seen- nothing but grey in any direction you walk. Walk long enough, and you come straight back to these doors."
Dean looked at the door. A part of him wanted to see for himself if they were full of shit, but the tone of Gretel's voice told him that she wasn't. His eyes moved to his brother. "What do you wanna do, Sammy?," he asked him. "Want to chance it?" Maybe his brother might have an opinion that could sway him in one direction or the other.
Hansel rolled his eyes. "Do you ever make decisions on your own? If you wanna go out there, be my guest. If not, whatever. Your room number's on the guestbook thing." His attention turned to his sister and he shrugged. "I'm hungry, and we were supposed to be heading for the kitchen."
Sam kept his eyes trained on Gretel, since she seemed to be the one offering more of an explanation, or at least one that wasn't tinged with exasperation, unlike her brother. "She's not lying." He said simply in response to Dean, but he didn't turn to look at him just yet.
He felt tired, and he was beginning to feel sore too after the fight they'd had earlier. He sighed before turning to face his brother again. "It couldn't hurt to at least look though." He said with a shrug.
Gretel's brows arched slightly, a facial acknowledgement that Sam had it right. She wasn't lying- she had no reason to, especially considering they were very much as stuck together as she described, but they'd find that out eventually anyway. When they moved toward the doors, she sighed, finally turning to face Hansel.
"Yes- for god's sake go. You're so bitchy when you're hungry-" she teased. They started to move down the stairs, and she reset the safety on her bow, readying it for the bolt she'd retrieve from the floor. "I'll be right behind you."
Hansel rolled his eyes and lightly decked his sister in the arm. "Peas in a pod, then, aren't we?," he smirked, moving down the stairs more interested in food than in the newcomers. Now that he was fairly certain that they weren't dangerous - even if they were annoying - he was less interested in them. If they wanted to go out into the nothingness, he wasn't going to shed a tear over them.
Dean sighed. "Let's go then," he muttered. They weren't going to figure it out standing in the middle of the lobby. "Unless you want to figure out where the hell we are," he said. "If we are stuck here... where is here?"
Sam wasn't sure he could persuade his brain to cooperate trying to fathom where exactly they were. He shook his head slightly and moved towards the door. Pulling it open, the view outside was just as she had described. Fog and nothingness as far as the eye could see. Sam saw no point in testing the theory further and he took a step back inside, closing the door behind them.
"We're gonna have to try and figure it out at some point, but honestly? I'm pretty beat, man. Part of me kinda wants to find my room and crash for a couple hours."
While Hansel veered down the hall to find the kitchen, Gretel yanked the arrow from the tile and spoke to the two men while placing it where it belonged. "If the pattern holds the way it has for the last hundred and seventy-three days-" She clicked the bolt in place and looked up at them; everything about her face clear and honest, and wary about the particular subject matter. "You're relatively safe for the next three days. Find your rooms. Get familiar. Find us when you're ready to take the rest of the bad news."
With that, she shouldered the massive bow and turned to follow her brother.