Chelsea Hotel No.2 {Dean Winchester S.S}

Brookshire Manor

A long gravel road lead to the manor on the hill. Large trees shaded the driveway. At the end sat, Brookshire Manor. The dark red, brick building was built in 1867 by the Brookshire family. In the 1970's the manor was made into a luxurious hotel. Most of the Brookshire family was now dead, leaving only one behind, Lilly Brookshire. Lilly is a young women blessed with both beauty and brains.

Lilly stood behind the check-in counter, scrolling through the records on the computer. Clicking her long fingernails gently against the wood.

"Mr. Shaw hasn't checked out yet. His 'do not disturb' sign is still up." Said the young assistant manager, Bailee. "I knocked and there wasn't an answer."

"Thank you, Bailee. I'll check it out." Lilly told the girl as she closed out of the computer program and grabbed the key to room 305. She walked casually up the stairs and down the long hallway. Lilly stopped in front of the door and knocked gently at first. With no response, she knocked a little louder and called for Mr. Shaw. She pushed the key into the lock and slowly pushed the door open.

Inside the room, she spotted the middle aged man laying dead on the floor, trails of dried blood coming from his nose and eyes. With a deep breath, Lilly closed her eyes, tightly. When she opened them, a small glow came from underneath the mattress. She tilted her head up slightly and the mattress slowly rose. When she held out her hand, a small bag floated from the metal poles of the bed frame and into her palm. She clenched her hand angrily around the small bag and stormed out of the room.

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Dean and Sam Winchester were in their cheap motel room when they received a text from their missing father. A single text was revealed to Sam's cellphone, containing coordinates to another unknown place.

The men drove in the 1967 Chevy Impala down the North Carolina back road. Dean kept his eyes focused on the road as Sam read over the printed pages in a file.

"It doesn't make sense why dad would send us here. There's nothing weird about this place at all," Sam said, still reading over the papers.

"Nothing?" Dean asked.

"No, there's only been one death in the building within the last 5 years, Edwin Shaw, 47, died from a brain aneurysm two days ago. it was built in the 1800's so maybe a ghost? I don't know," Sam stated.

"Shaw died the same day dad sent the coordinates," Dean added. They sat in silence as they drove down a long gravel road and parked the car in front of the large, old, house.

Lilly stood behind the counter, checking a customer in over the phone. Once the two men in suits walked in, Lilly finished on the phone and turned to them.

"What can I do for you?" She asked with a smile.

"Hello, I'm agent Bonham and this is agent Page. We're investing the death of Edwin Jenner. Would you mind if we speak to the owner?" Dean lied with a handsome smile.

"Y'all got badges?" Lilly asked. The men reached into their coat pockets and flashed her their badges. She looked over the laminated cards suspiciously before speaking again. "I'm the owner. What can I do for you?"

"Would you mind pointing us to the crime scene?" Sam asked kindly. Lilly nodded and grabbed the key to room 305.

"So, are we waiting on Agents Plant and Jones too, or is it just you two?" Lilly asked sarcastically, earning a light chuckle from Dean.