Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jaime raced down the halls, his breathing rapid. The exit had to be somewhere close, right? As he turned another corner he gasped, almost stumbling backwards. Another ghost. Misshapen and disfigured. It turned its head a full one hundred and eighty degrees to stare dead into the young hunter's soul. It grinned, the flame above its head dancing in the empty air of the hallway.

It whispered to Jaime, so quietly that he had to strain to listen. “Candles.”

Jaime scrambled to reach into his bag and retrieve any amount of salt he could find. He tossed a handful at the spirit, which dissipated upon contact. The young man sighed with relief, eyes darting around the now barren area. Thank God. His parents had never mentioned anything like this in their notes. Maybe starting on one of their unfinished and undocumented jobs wasn't his smartest idea. Fuck, why was he so stupid-

Jaime froze. Footsteps. Not booming, but the small patters of a young child. He held his breath, gaze locked onto the direction he heard it. Please, God, please don't be a creepy ghost child.

Around the corner a small boy emerged. His hair was medium length and he was dressed in an outfit that likely belonged to the puritans. 

The child stopped yards away from Jaime, his piercing blue eyes watching him with deadly precision. 

Jaime screamed, bolting in the opposite direction. His heart leapt in his chest when he spotted the stairwell and the large double doors in the room below. The poor, inexperienced man, however, did not see the tendril twisting its way up the steps. Not when he was rushing down and not when he tripped on it. He only saw it as he toppled down the steps, head slamming against the bannister, neck snapping.

“Weird,” Sam murmured, as he scrolled on his computer.

“Weird?” Dean looked up from his breakfast, his words muffled by the food shoveled in his mouth. “What's weird?”

Sam lowered the lid of his laptop to look his brother in the eye. “Yeah weird. There's a city in New York that's home to a definitely haunted hotel.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow, taking another bite of his eggs. “Another hotel?” He leaned back in the booth, head practically crossing into the space of the family that sat behind him. “And why exactly is that weird? Seems pretty run of the mill for us.”

“There had been sightings there for over decades. The weird part is, no hunters have visited there in years, even though the sightings never stopped.”

“Huh.” Dean sat up. “So what’re we thinking? Some sort of hunter repellant?”

“Hard to say,” Sam concluded, closing his laptop. “Finish up. I think we should look into it.”

His older brother groaned. “What's the rush, Sammy? I never get to finish my breakfast.”

“You can box it and finish in the car!” Sam announced as he packed his bag and swung it over his shoulder. Dean stuck his tongue out at his brother, who simply turned and walked off.

As the Winchester brothers loaded into the impala, Dean turned to Sam. 

“So!” He began as the engine turned over. “What made you notice this job if it'd been ignored for so long?”

Sam exhaled, “Apparently a guy Bobby knew, some rookie hunter with almost no experience, went there as the first hunter in years just a few days ago. He says the guy stopped answering calls and wants us to check it out.”

“A rookie?” Dean snorted as he began backing the impala out of their parking spot. “Why does Bobby know him? Or… did?”

“Something about his parents being former hunters.” Sam shrugged.

“Right.” Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “So, Tim Drake, what’ve we got on this place?”

“Actually? Quite a bit. It was originally an asylum, then a prison, and then… another asylum before becoming a hotel.”

Dean actually let out a laugh at that. “Well no wonder it's a cesspool of spirits.”

“Yeah, but that still doesn't explain why the place hasn't had any hunter activity in so long.”

“Maybe something is keeping all the ghosts there and stopping them from being exorcised?”

“Maybe.”

A few hours passed as they drove, Dean focusing on the road and the tunes blasting from the cassette player and Sam looking into the hotel some more until they stopped at a diner for lunch.

“Take a look at this,” Sam said as they sat down, flipping his laptop around. “The previous owner, Nathan Freeling? He killed himself there two days before our hunter friend paid a visit.”

“So?” Dean prompted.

“So there's a new owner. Freeling’s sister, Katherine.”

“We’ll have the chilli cheese fries to start.” Dean winked at the approaching waitress, tapping the words on the menu. She scrawled down the order and smiled warmly, leaving the boys alone again.

“So big bro kills himself and leaves little sis the creepy ass hotel?” Dean asked, folding up his menu.

“Pretty much.”

“What, was it in his will?”

“Yep. Everything he had was left to his sister, actually. From the hotel itself to…” Sam frowned as he continued scrolling. “A beanie boo collection?”

“Of course.” Dean nodded solemnly.

“And get this,” Sam began, “This guy was in a total of twelve cults throughout his life.”

“Holy shit, twelve?” Dean grinned, “Was he trying to speed run going to hell?”

The appetizer was placed softly on the table with a small clink.

“Thanks,” Dean murmured, flashing a rather lascivious smile at the young woman.

Sam rolled his eyes.

The rest of the drive was fairly quiet, save for the Led Zeppelin blasting from the cassette player. When the impala turned into town, Sam spoke up.

“So how should we go about this?”

“Well why don't we stay there?” Dean suggested.

Sam turned to his brother, a look of disbelief clear across his face. “Stay in the haunted hotel infamously known for driving out or killing hunters?”

“I don't see why not.”

“Yeah, not happening. There's a perfectly nice bed and breakfast a lot closer to civilization.”

“Look Sammy,” Dean said as the Impala turned down a dirt path leading into the forest surrounding the town. “It'll be pretty damn suspicious if we keep goin’ in and out without buying a room. Plus, investigating the place would put us in pretty much the same amount of danger.”

Sam let out a string of frustrated noises before sighing. “Fine.”

Chapter Text

Katherine was exhausted. She'd been exhausted since childhood. She'd been taking care of herself and her family for decades, constantly sacrificing her time and energy for their needs and wants. And ever since she moved into the Undervale, she'd been in charge of a lot more than just two kids and a poor excuse for an adult man (Ron and Nathan, if she was being frank.) Maintaining a massive property such as the Undervale as well as all of its rooms and guests and spirits? It was draining beyond belief.

That being said, the last thing she needed at a time like this was a collection of ghosts heckling her about her design choices. It had been nearly a whole year since she inherited the property, so why now, when she was finally getting an influx (a small influx, but still) of guests and a sliver of control over the ghosts, did things begin to go south?

It had cost a hell of a lot to replace the flooring in the rooms that Jessica had torn up in her rampage weeks before, and Katherine was still in the process of repairing the wall in the lobby from the time Abaddon got trapped inside it. Not to mention the amount of times that demon had ruined the paint while it was still drying.

So yes, she believed she had every right to be exhausted. Of course, an actual break was a pipedream and always would be for Katherine Freeling. It wasn't worth hoping for.

“Green?” Angela frowned as she floated towards the edge of the stairs.

“Yes,” Katherine said flatly, moving Abaddon's hand away from the paint tray. 

The boy stomped his foot in retaliation. “You dare conceal such inconsequential amusement from the great Abaddon?!”

“Your ‘amusement’ is getting in the way of my ‘getting stuff done.’” Katherine snapped. “What was that about my color choice?” She turned to glower at Angela.

“Nothing, nothing,” she murmured, leaning against the bannister to watch. Katherine ignored her, but the other spirits clearly didn't.

“With that rug?”

“But you're keeping the baseboards white??”

“The counter is brown, Katherine!”

“I'ma have to agree here, Mom.”

She froze, glancing up. “Ben!”

“What?” Her son raised his hands innocently. “I'm just saying! You should've gone with a soft yellow, or maybe even a bm hollingsworth green, rather than an army green.”

Katherine stared blankly at Ben. “What?”

“What?”

“What happened to the old wallpaper?” Nathan said, walking through the wall she was in the middle of painting. “I liked that wallpaper!”

She set down the paint roller. “Nathan, respectfully, wallpaper isn't in style anymore.”

“Actually it's coming back!” Ben provided helpfully.

“And even if it was, our wallpaper was ripped up when Abaddon burst through the walls a few days ago.”

“Oh right!” Nathan chuckled, “Good times.”

“Why can't you just buy more?”

“I don't know, Ben!” Katherine exclaimed, scooping up Abaddon and tossing him in the closet. She then picked up the roller to spread paint over the handprint he left.

The ghosts, and Ben, eventually dispersed, leaving Katherine alone in the lobby with Abaddon in the closet. 

She was done. So very done. She was done with Abaddon freaking out guests and trashing the hotel, she was done with the ghosts ridiculing her and testing her patience, and, though she loved her kids dearly, she was done trying to keep them out of the trouble they got themselves into. At least for the time being. She trusted her kids were capable enough to not get themselves killed while she focused on cleaning up the lobby. Though there was so much more to do. She had to finish the wall, clean all the used rooms, hire someone to fix the floor boards in the first storey rooms, buy more groceries, find a way to ward off those fae creatures that kept devouring their cereal-

The door swung open, and two men entered.

“Welcome to the Undervale!” Katherine said, her tone strained. She looked down at her paint covered hands. “BEN!”

He was downstairs in a flash, “Yeah, Mom?”

She made a vague motion towards the men with her head and turned back to the task at hand.

Ben practically flung himself over the counter before quickly standing upright as though nothing had happened. “Hello gentlemen,” he greeted the two guests.

The taller one stifled a chuckle. “Hi. We'd like one room, preferably with two beds?”

“Or one. Sammy can sleep on the couch.” The shorter one grinned.

“Aye aye!” Ben skimmed the room keys, mentally marking off which were more haunted than others before grabbing the key to room 217 and handing it over. “Enjoy your stay! If you need anything, feel free to ask!”

The short one took the key and nodded at Ben as they left down the hall.

“Dark green with a red carpet?” Katherine overheard one of them say.

“What?” The other murmured.

“Just a bold choice is all.”

“Ben.” She set down the paint roller. “Get in the car. We're going shopping.”

“We are?”

“We are.”