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storesnearmeusatoday · 9 days ago

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Cheap hotels near me.Best cheap hotels.Best price Guarantee.The Best learn more

Cheap hotels near me.Best cheap hotels.best price Guarantee.check it here Budget Bliss: Unveiling the Top-Rated Cheap Hotels Across the 50 States Traveling on a budget doesn't have to mean sacrificing comfort and quality. In fact, with a little research, you can find charming, highly-rated hotels that offer exceptional value without breaking the bank. We've scoured reviews and ratings across the country to bring you a curated list of the top-rated cheap hotels in each of the 50 states. These hidden gems provide comfortable accommodations, prime locations, and often, a touch of local charm, all at prices that will leave you with more to spend on experiences.

Forget cramped hostels and questionable motels. These hotels prove you can have a memorable and affordable adventure across America! Here's a glimpse of some standout budget-friendly accommodations: Alabama: The Battle House Renaissance Mobile Hotel & Spa (Mobile): While technically not "cheap" in the strictest sense, frequent deals and off-season rates make this historic hotel a worthwhile splurge in Alabama. The location is unbeatable, and the grandeur is unmatched for the price you might find.check it here Alaska: Anchorage Grand Hotel (Anchorage): Embrace the Alaskan spirit without emptying your wallet at this centrally located hotel offering comfortable rooms and easy access to attractions.check it here Arizona: The Scottsdale Resort at McCormick Ranch (Scottsdale): Known for its gorgeous pools, excellent restaurants, and beautiful Scottsdale setting, this is a high value choice for those seeking a luxury experience at a reasonable price.check it here Arkansas: Capital Hotel (Little Rock): Steeped in history and offering a touch of Southern elegance, the Capital Hotel offers a surprising amount of luxury at a manageable cost, especially with advance booking.check it here California: Hotel Erwin (Venice Beach): A hip and modern option right on the iconic Venice Beach boardwalk. While prices fluctuate, securing a deal here offers incredible value for the location and views.check it here Colorado: The Maven Hotel at Dairy Block (Denver): Offers an authentic experience and is a great base to explore Denver's vibrant downtown area.check it here Connecticut: Delamar West Hartford (West Hartford): Although high-end, deals and packages can turn this into a surprisingly affordable treat.check it here Delaware: The Inn at Montchanin Village & Spa (Greenville): A charmingly renovated DuPont mill village, offering a unique historical stay that sometimes surprises with reasonable rates.check it here Florida: Casa Monica Resort & Spa, Autograph Collection (St. Augustine): Offers a taste of old-world charm and historic ambiance, with occasional deals that make it a great budget find.check it here Georgia: The Hotel at Avalon, Alpharetta (Alpharetta): Centrally located, it's one of Alpharetta's best hotels.check it here Hawaii: Aqua Oasis (Waikiki, Oahu): Located in the heart of Waikiki, this hotel offers a comfortable and convenient base for exploring the island, often at a fraction of the cost of beachfront properties.check it here Idaho: The Modern Hotel (Boise): A boutique hotel with a focus on art and design, The Modern offers a stylish and budget-friendly option in Boise's vibrant downtown.check it here Illinois: Hotel Lincoln, a Joie de Vivre Hotel (Chicago): Overlooking Lincoln Park and Lake Michigan, this hotel offers stunning views and a convenient location for exploring the city.check it here Indiana: Ironworks Hotel Indy (Indianapolis): A unique industrial-chic hotel with comfortable rooms and a lively atmosphere.check it here Iowa: Hotel Julien Dubuque (Dubuque): A historic hotel with elegant rooms and a central location in Dubuque's downtown.check it here Kansas: The Ambassador Hotel Wichita, Autograph Collection (Wichita): A stylish hotel with a rooftop restaurant and bar, offering stunning city views.check it here Kentucky: 21c Museum Hotel Lexington (Lexington): Another trendy chain with very good offerings.check it here Louisiana: Hotel Provincial (New Orleans): Housed in a collection of historic Creole cottages, Hotel Provincial offers a charming and affordable stay in the French Quarter.check it here Maine: The Press Hotel (Portland): A boutique hotel housed in the former Portland Press Herald building, offering stylish rooms and a creative atmosphere.check it here Maryland: The Sagamore Pendry Baltimore (Baltimore): Is located in the historic Recreation Pier building in Baltimore's Fells Point, and offers a glimpse into the pier's rich history and stunning waterfront views.check it here Massachusetts: The Lenox Hotel (Boston): Located in Back Bay, is a high-end hotel offering quality service.check it here Michigan: The Detroit Foundation Hotel (Detroit): A renovated fire station with stylish rooms and a lively restaurant and bar.check it here Minnesota: The Hewing Hotel (Minneapolis): A trendy hotel with a rustic-chic design, located in Minneapolis' Warehouse District.check it here Mississippi: The Alluvian (Greenwood): A stylish and modern hotel in the heart of the Delta, offering a comfortable and convenient base for exploring the region.check it here Missouri: Hotel Saint Louis, Autograph Collection (St. Louis): A historic hotel with a grand lobby and comfortable rooms, located in downtown St. Louis.check it here Montana: The Lark (Bozeman): A stylish and modern motel with comfortable rooms and a convenient location for exploring Bozeman and the surrounding area.check it here Nebraska: The Farnam, Autograph Collection (Omaha): This accommodation offers travelers with a unique stay and experience.check it here Nevada: The Golden Nugget Hotel & Casino (Las Vegas): Offers a classic Las Vegas experience without the Strip prices. Look for deals and discounts for the best value.check it here New Hampshire: The Centennial Hotel (Concord): Boasts an amazing location.check it here New Jersey: The Asbury Hotel (Asbury Park): A hip and modern hotel with a rooftop deck and bar, offering stunning ocean views.check it here New Mexico: La Fonda on the Plaza (Santa Fe): A historic hotel with charming rooms and a central location on the Santa Fe Plaza.check it here New York: The Jane Hotel (New York City): This charming boutique hotel offers cozy, ship-cabin-style rooms with a unique, affordable experience in a prime West Village location.check it here North Carolina: 21c Museum Hotel Durham (Durham): A contemporary art museum and hotel in one, 21c Durham offers a unique and budget-friendly experience in a vibrant city.check it here North Dakota: Hotel Donaldson (Fargo): A historic hotel with stylish rooms and a lively atmosphere, located in downtown Fargo.check it here Ohio: The Lytle Park Hotel, Autograph Collection (Cincinnati): In the heart of downtown.check it here Oklahoma: The Skirvin Hilton Oklahoma City (Oklahoma City): A historic hotel with a grand lobby and comfortable rooms, located in downtown Oklahoma City.check it here Oregon: Hotel Eastlund (Portland): Stylish and modern, with great access to downtown.check it here Pennsylvania: The Logan Philadelphia, Curio Collection by Hilton (Philadelphia): Located in the Museum District.check it here Rhode Island: The Beatrice (Providence): Offers luxury rooms and service.check it here South Carolina: Hotel Emeline (Charleston): Close proximity to amazing attractions.check it here South Dakota: Hotel Alex Johnson Rapid City, Curio Collection by Hilton (Rapid City): A historic property with a great location.check it here Tennessee: The Edwin Hotel (Chattanooga): Located in Downtown, with great views from restaurant.check it here Texas: Hotel Emma (San Antonio): A beautifully restored Pearl Brewery offers a unique and luxurious experience, and you might find reasonable rates with advance booking.check it here Utah: The Grand America Hotel (Salt Lake City): Offers a luxurious experience to travelers.check it here Vermont: Hotel Vermont (Burlington): Local feel with comfortable rooms and amenities.check it here Virginia: The Cavalier Virginia Beach, Autograph Collection (Virginia Beach): Known for its rich history, this hotel is one of the most luxurious of its kind.check it here Washington: The Maxwell Hotel (Seattle): Quirky and colorful, The Maxwell offers a fun and affordable stay in the heart of Seattle's downtown.check it here West Virginia: The Blennerhassett Hotel (Parkersburg): Offers a taste of luxury in unique rooms.check it here Wisconsin: The Pfister Hotel (Milwaukee): A landmark known for its Victorian architecture and art collection, this hotel offers historic charm and comfortable rooms with great potential for value.check it here Wyoming: The Wort Hotel (Jackson): Offers a luxurious and historic experience.check it here Tips for Snagging the Best Deals: Travel During the Off-Season: Prices often drop significantly during shoulder seasons (spring and fall) or in destinations with harsh weather conditions. Book in Advance (or Last Minute): Sometimes, booking well ahead of time can secure early bird discounts. Conversely, last-minute deals can pop up when hotels try to fill empty rooms. Consider Weekday Stays: Weekend rates are typically higher. If your schedule is flexible, consider traveling mid-week. Look for Package Deals: Websites often offer discounts on hotel and flight combinations. Sign Up for Loyalty Programs: Hotel loyalty programs can unlock exclusive discounts and perks. Read Reviews: Don't just look at the price. Read reviews to ensure the hotel meets your standards for cleanliness, comfort, and safety. By doing your research and being flexible with your travel dates, you can discover incredible budget-friendly hotels across the 50 states and experience the best of America without breaking the bank. Happy travels.Check more here Read the full article

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vincentblackbearmediallc · 2 years ago

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If your next trip takes you to Iowa City, you’ll want to find the best accommodations for your stay, whether that’s a luxury hotel with a rooftop terrace or a budget-friendly motel that’s within walking distance of the stadium.Maybe you’re visiting Iowa City for your child’s graduation from The University of Iowa. Perhaps you’re booking a quick weekender to give the kids some fun time in the hotel’s indoor pool. Maybe it’s time for a couple’s getaway and an afternoon spent at the city’s fun breweries!

#Iowa City #best accommodations #luxury hotel #rooftop terrace #stadium

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sibleyinn · 2 years ago

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Handicap Hotel Room in Sibley Iowa

Sibley, Iowa is a small town located in Osceola County, in the northwestern part of the state. If you are looking for a handicap hotel room in Sibley, there are a few options available that cater to travelers with disabilities. One of the best options for a handicap hotel room in Sibley is the AmericInn Lodge & Suites Sibley. This hotel offers a variety of accessible rooms, including rooms with roll-in showers, grab bars, and lowered fixtures. The rooms are spacious and well equipped, with comfortable beds, flat-screen TVs, and free Wi-Fi.

Another option for a handicap hotel room in Sibley is the Cobblestone Inn & Suites. This hotel also offers accessible rooms with features like grab bars, lowered fixtures, and roll-in showers. The rooms are stylish and modern, with amenities like microwaves, refrigerators, and flat-screen TVs.

If you are looking for a more budget-friendly option, the Sibley Inn Motel is another hotel that offers handicap-accessible rooms. These rooms are basic but clean and comfortable, with features like grab bars and lowered fixtures. The motel also offers amenities like free Wi-Fi and complimentary breakfast.

When looking for a handicap hotel room in Sibley, it's important to consider your specific needs and requirements. If you require a certain type of accessibility feature, be sure to call ahead and confirm that the hotel can accommodate your needs. In addition to the hotels mentioned above, there are also a few other resources in Sibley that may be helpful for travelers with disabilities. The Osceola County Transit provides public transportation services to individuals with disabilities. The town also has a few restaurants and attractions that are wheelchair accessible.

Overall, Sibley, Iowa offers a few good options for travelers in need of a handicap hotel room. Whether you're looking for a budget-friendly option or a more luxurious hotel, you're sure to find a hotel that can accommodate your needs in Sibley.

Things to consider while looking for a handicapped hotel room

When looking for a handicapped hotel room, there are several things to consider to ensure that your stay is comfortable and safe. Here are some things to keep in mind:

Accessibility features: Consider the specific accessibility features you require, such as grab bars, roll-in showers, lowered fixtures, or wider doorways. Make sure that the hotel you are considering offers the features you need.

Room size and layout: Check the room size and layout to ensure that you have enough space to move around and use any mobility aids, such as wheelchairs or walkers. Consider the location of the room in the hotel, as well as the proximity to elevators and other facilities.

Location and surroundings: Consider the location of the hotel in relation to your planned activities, as well as the surrounding area. Make sure that there are accessible restaurants, attractions, and transportation options nearby.

Staff training: Look for hotels with staff who are trained to assist guests with disabilities. This can include knowledge of accessibility features, as well as the ability to offer assistance with mobility or other needs.

Reviews and ratings: Check online reviews and ratings from other guests who have stayed in the accessible rooms to get an idea of the hotel's quality and level of accessibility.

Price and budget: Consider your budget and compare prices between different hotels to find one that meets your needs and fits within your budget.

By considering these factors, you can find a handicapped hotel room that meets your needs and ensures a comfortable and safe stay.

Amenities needed in a Handicapped Hotel Rooms

Handicapped hotel rooms should have a range of amenities that make them accessible and comfortable for guests with disabilities. Here are some common amenities that are typically found in handicapped hotel rooms:

Grab bars: These are important safety features that help guests with disabilities move around the room more easily. Grab bars are typically installed in the bathroom near the toilet and shower.

Roll-in showers: A roll-in shower allows guests who use wheelchairs or other mobility aids to enter and exit the shower area with ease. These showers typically have a shower seat and handheld showerhead.

Lowered fixtures: Sink and toilet fixtures should be installed at a lower height for ease of use by guests with disabilities.

Wide doorways: Doorways in handicapped hotel rooms should be wide enough to accommodate wheelchairs and other mobility aids.

Emergency pull cords: These are installed in the bathroom to allow guests to call for help in case of an emergency.

Visual fire alarms: These are important safety features for guests who are deaf or hard of hearing. They provide a visual alert in case of a fire alarm.

Adjustable beds: Beds that can be adjusted to a comfortable height can be helpful for guests with disabilities.

Accessible outlets and switches: Electrical outlets and light switches should be placed at a lower height for ease of use.

Wheelchair accessibility: The room should be designed to be fully wheelchair accessible, with ample space for maneuvering and turning.

Closed-captioned TV: This feature is important for guests who are deaf or hard of hearing and need to read subtitles to follow TV programs.

By providing these amenities, handicapped hotel rooms can provide a comfortable and safe stay for guests with disabilities.

#Hotels in Sibley Iowa #Handicap accessible hotels near me

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bourbonbees · 3 years ago

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Suptober Day 5- Nostalgia

The Lollipop Guild

Rating- G (nothing but fluff)

Relationships- Castiel/Dean Winchester (Established, Mentioned), Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester (Established, Mentioned), Sam & Dean Winchester (Bros being bros)

Summary: Family movie night is one of Dean’s favorite activities, he loves it so much he’s even willing to try to make a charcuterie board, or at least something resembling one. Sam makes a movie choice that leaves Dean confused, until it doesn’t.

Read on Ao3 or under the cut :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34316380

Dean loves family movie night, he’s always the first one ready with a bowl of popcorn and a bag full of snacks. Tonight, is no exception, he’s the first one to the Dean Cave, clad in his hot dog pajama pants and dead guy robe for maximum coziness. It’s Sam’s movie pick tonight and he’s been keeping them all in suspense, but if Dean were to guess, he’d bet on something nerdy like Lord of the Rings. Though he really doesn’t care, because movie night is really an elaborate excuse to cuddle up to Cas and hold hands under the blankets.

Dean sets up the snacks, he’s got an early start because he’s trying something new in hopes of impressing Cas. “A charcuterie board, how delightful it’s a board full of hand-held snack foods. It’s amazing what you humans will come up with!” Cas had enthused when he showed Dean photos of the artfully arranged boards with meat and cheese.

Normally Dean scoffs at anything requiring as much effort as a shark-coochie board, or whatever it’s called. But unfortunately for Dean, the stupid thing also made the little smile lines crinkle the corner of Cas’ eyes, so this is how he finds himself artfully arranging beef jerky. It isn’t much, just the jerky, whatever candy, and assorted snacks he was able to find at the Gas-N-Sip on a cutting board. It isn’t perfect, Dean may be the Meatman, but this is also Lebanon Kansas after all and the selections of cured meats is slim pickings, so they’ll just have to take what he could get.

“Hey, what in the world is that?” Sam manages to enter the room quietly enough that his voice makes Dean jump.

“It’s a sharp-cuttery board.” Dean tries, working on shaping some fruit roll ups into a flower shape.

“Charcuterie, it’s charcuterie Dean.” Sam corrects, sitting on the edge of the couch and watching Dean work with a curious expression.

“How do you know about charcuterie boards?” Dean huffs, swearing under his breath when he nearly up-ends the entire board while trying to arrange M&M’s by color.

“Eileen, she’s got a whole Pinterest board of them. She’s thinking of maybe having them at the wedding.” Sam shares shyly, his cheeks going pink. Secretly Dean thinks it’s really sweet that Sam still blushes when he thinks of his soon to be wife.

“Well I’m on board with that. Eh?” Dean laughs, proud of his own bad joke. He finishes arranging some Sour Patch Kids and calls it, sitting on the couch next to Sam.

“So, what’d you pick for tonight’s movie?” He ventures to ask, opening a beer and handing it off to Sam.

“Well, I was feeling a bit Nostalgic. So, I chose The Wizard of Oz.” Sam nods, pulling up the movie on the TV. Dean wracks his brain to try to come up with what significance that movie has to Sam and comes up empty.

“How is that nostalgic?” He finally asks, tipping his head to the side, a habitat he’d unconsciously picked up from Cas.

“You don’t remember?” Sam looks disappointed, he sips his beer and looks at Dean expectantly, giving him a moment to think about it.

“Oh.” Dean recalls, his mind finally stumbling upon a memory buried deep in his store of childhood memories. “Thanksgiving, that motel in Iowa. Dad left us to go on a hunt, it was just you and me. We had turkey sandwiches from a gas station. And cranberry juice.” He begins recalling that night, and quickly remembers why he’d forgotten it. He remembers the disappointed look on Sam’s face when John backed out of spending Thanksgiving at Bobby’s like he’d promised.

“We were supposed to go to Bobby’s, he was going to make us a proper Thanksgiving meal. I remember you were so disappointed when Dad left us in that shitty motel instead.” Dean says aloud, patting Sam on the shoulder. “We tried to make the best of it though, yeah.” He looks over at Sam hopefully. He knows they had a shitty childhood but he also hopes that the blow was softened a bit for Sam by the effort he put into taking care of him.

“Yeah, we did. I remember I was pretty upset but you were determined to make me laugh. The Wizard of Oz was on TV and you did the worst impression of the Lollipop Guild munchkin. It made me spit out my cranberry juice. We both laughed so hard. Then we stayed up late and watched the whole movie, we ate so much candy from the vending machine. It’s one of my favorite memories.” Sam is smiling, which is a relief to Dean. Hearing that he managed to turn what could have been a lifelong trauma into one of Sam’s best memories was a source of pride for Dean.

Dean would shoulder all the trauma if it meant knowing Sam was happy. That has always been his goal. Nostalgia is a luxury that Dean could live without because he had the rest of his life to make new memories, better memories like family dinners, date nights with Cas, and movie nights with his family.

That night the whole family crowds in on the couch in the Dean cave. They’re going to need a bigger couch, he thinks to himself as he looks over at Sam and Eileen squished into one corner of the sofa, himself and Cas molded together in the other corner, and Jack sprawled out between them. He also makes a mental note to look more into charcuterie boards when Cas spots his efforts and kisses him enthusiastically.

Now this is a moment worth remembering.

#suptober21 #supernatural #Destiel #fic #ficlet #deancas #dean makes a charcuterie board #sam winchester #dean winchester

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leiascully · 5 years ago

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Fic: You Are Here

1700 words; gentle; season 6 on the road fic for @suitablyaggrieved who wanted a rest stop

Another month off the X-Files, another whistle-stop tour of the Midwest. It was August and the heat was miserable, pressing down like a cupped hand. They'd had to fly into Des Moines and drive south and the air conditioning in the rental car couldn't keep up. It had only been an hour. The sky blazed white and the glare set Scully's teeth on edge. She squinted behind her sunglasses and shook the fabric of her blouse surreptitiously. The silk was sticking to her skin. Mulder had rolled up his sleeves one at a time as he drove and undone all the buttons of his shirt. They'd tried opening the windows, but immediately rolled them up again as hot, humid air blasted in. Outside it was all hills and trees and the occasional town that seemed too far from the highway to stop in.

They drove, saying nothing. The highway spun away under the wheels. Country music whispered from the radio until Scully turned it off. The air conditioning whirred and burbled. There was a death rattle from the vents. Scully held her hand up. There was barely a breath of air coming out. The mechanism coughed again and cool air puffed over her fingers. She could already tell it wasn't going to be enough.

"There's a rest stop," Mulder said. His words sounded heavy. "I'm going to pull over. Maybe we can get something cold to drink."

"Fine," Scully said from a distance. The car already felt stuffy. He signaled and pulled onto the long ramp, which wound under the highway and up the gentle curve of a hill.

"I always thought the Midwest was supposed to be flat," Mulder said.

"Maybe there will be a breeze at the top," Scully said wistfully.

They parked in front of a big building built out of pale cement bricks. Mulder abandoned propriety and shed his button-up, standing in his white undershirt. Scully wished she could strip down any further. At least she'd worn a skirt instead of pants. Large trees provided some shade to the sidewalk as they walked up the slant of it. Big polished bronze plaques gleamed in the sun. Even Mulder was too wilted to examine them. The glass doors of the welcome center slid open automatically. They took their sunglasses off in unwitting unison. To the right there was a large room, a desk and a bunch of racks of maps behind another glass door. To the left, there was a tiled hall with restrooms and vending machines with a huge map on the wall. "You are here," it declared with certainty. A star obscured their position. She could know her position or his velocity, never both.

Scully ducked into the restroom and dampened a paper towel in the long plastic trough of a sink. She dabbed her face and laid the paper towel on the back of her neck. It was cooler in here. Thick walls and small windows kept the heat out. They probably kept the tornadoes out too, she thought, as much as that was possible. There'd been a storm shelter sign above the restroom door. She stuck her wrists under the flow of water until it shut off automatically. At least she was a little cooler.

She emerged into the hall, her heels echoing on the concrete floor. Mulder was standing with his hands behind his back.

"Pick one," he said.

She reached out and tapped his right arm. He handed her a diet soda and produced an identical one from the other hand with a grin.

"A little something to enjoy," he said. "The attendant said there's a scenic overlook. I'm not ready to get back in that car."

"No," Scully agreed. She slipped her sunglasses back on. They walked across the parking lot through the rippling heat and down another sidewalk, following the signs. All she could see were trees and grass, nothing particularly scenic. Then they crested a little swell and a valley spread out below them. The fields were green and lush. It wasn't a remarkable view, nothing once-in-a-lifetime, but it was lovely all the same. There was a peace in it that Scully hadn't found in the jagged mountains of Montana or the stark light of the desert. She could hear a distant rustle of corn and the hum of a tractor engine. There was a breeze on this side of the hill, some trick of the local geography. It tugged at the silk of her shirt. She sighed in relief. Mulder ruffled his hair and tipped his face into the current of air. Scully pressed her sweating soda can against her throat. A drop or two trickled into her shirt, tracing an unerring path between her breasts.

There was a picnic table, its surface and attached benches made of a plastic-coated metal honeycomb grid. It was half in the shade. Scully pressed her fingers to it and shook her head. "Too hot," she said. "We'd get grilled."

"We can sit in the grass," Mulder said, venturing deeper into the shade of an enormous cottonwood tree. He scuffed through it with his shoe. "No rocks."

Bugs, Scully thought, stains, twigs. But she eased herself down into the soft grass and leaned against the trunk of the tree. Mulder sat next to her and clinked his unopened can against hers.

"Cheers," he said.

They popped the tabs of their sodas in unison. A cloud of carbon dioxide fogged out and the crackle of bubbles sounded like ice. Scully sipped at her soda. It was ambrosial, the most refreshing thing she'd ever tasted. The breeze wafted over them, brisk enough to dry the sweat on her forehead. She and Mulder sat quietly, enjoying the view, enjoying the moment. Scully kicked her heels off and wiggled her bare toes in the grass.

"Summer should involve a beach," he said.

"I agree." She thought of sand between her toes, ice cream that always tasted faintly of salt, the cool rush of waves. She thought of submerging herself and opening her eyes, weighing the sting against the magical stained-glass underwater world. This was a very different landscape, but there was some link between them: the blank sky a bell jar balanced over the peaceful slopes of the valley.

"I saw a sign for an Amish bakery," Mulder said. "Think they're farming some of that land down there?"

"Look for a horse and buggy," she murmured, as if it weren't too hot for anyone to be out in the fields. As if she wanted to encounter the Amish again.

"No field of dreams out here either," Mulder said, taking another swallow of her soda. She watched his adam's apple bobble in the long line of his neck. He seemed shockingly undressed in his undershirt, as if she hadn't seen him in less. The bright white cotton made his skin looked bronzed. There was a haze of dirt on his polished shoes.

"It's too hot for baseball," Scully said. "It's too hot for anything."

"Nice right here, though," Mulder said, his eyes sliding sideways to her.

"Very nice," she agreed. "Could use a crop circle or two."

"Ah, Scully," he said, grinning. "If you kept up with the current research, you'd know crop circles are much more prevalent in the fall in this region."

"Oh, of course," she said gravely. She sipped at her soda again.

"My theory is that the dried stalks look better than the green ones," Mulder said.

"The aesthetics of the inexplicable," she murmured. "Mulder, I think you're onto something."

They sat companionably, finishing their sodas. Scully's was lukewarm by the time she got to the bottom, but that felt like summer too, like the rare nights her family went out for hamburgers and all the Scully kids got root beer floats. Some memories lingered, she thought, stuffed into forgotten corners of her brain until a summer breeze brushed the dust off. It was nice to remember something that didn't make her spine stiffen and her heart race. Mulder probably didn't have the same luxury: his memories of idyllic summers with Samantha were all bleached at the edges by the shock of bright lights. But this would be something they could both recall with pleasure. A moment of respite and companionship. They were exiled, but they walked into the wilderness together. Or to the scenic outlook, depending on the day.

Scully checked her watch. They had spent fifteen minutes or so sitting in the grass. They needed to get going — they had another two hours or so of driving ahead of them, no doubt bumping down gravel roads to find the latest farm on the FBI's watchlist and then back through their own cloud of dust to the motel.

"Time to head out," Mulder agreed. He pushed himself up and offered her a hand. Scully let him brace his weight against hers and haul her to her feet. They were ballast enough to keep each other flying level, she thought, at least most of the time. The grass was already springing back where they had sat. She tucked her feet back into her shoes, steadying herself with her palm flattened against his arm.

They trekked back into the welcome center for bottles of water, refreshed enough to read the brass plaques about settlers who had tried to establish utopian societies in the hills of Iowa. There were worse places, Scully thought. She and Mulder had made their own small efforts, in a way, carving out a quarter of an hour of perfect contentment. Mulder fed change into the other vending machine until it yielded a pack of cheese crackers and a candy bar stiff from cold. It would be half-melted soon enough, Scully knew, in the heat of the car. They'd pass it back and forth, sticky fingers brushing.

She followed Mulder's bright shoulders back to the car with its uncertain systems. They'd try to trade it in when they got to town, or they'd spend the week sweating together. Either way, she'd remember this place. On the way out, she traced the line of the highway with her fingertips across the map. "You are here," it assured her, an anchor in a strange land.

#my fic #msr #xfiles fic #xfiles fanfiction #leiascullyfic

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bidean-byedean · 4 years ago

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new piece on AO3

xvi. family

Day 16 of the SPN advent calendar (not festive)

You stop for the night.

Rated: G // Tags: second person POV, outsider POV, finale denialist, post-canon/canon divergent, bar owner Dean, everyone is alive and in love, domestic fluff // Ships: Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, Claire/Kaia // Word count: 5.6k

The bar is unassuming, gentle, welcoming. Tucked away but easy to find, if you’re looking. It’s still the midwest after all. Dean knows how much it looks like the old haunt; some of it deliberately mimicked, some of it inevitable features of the genre, some of it only became apparent in certain lights, like a ghostly apparition in a foggy bathroom mirror. These things that were hidden until Sam laid eyes on the place for the first time, or an old regular froze in the doorway, or after hours when Dean is cleaning up and swears he heard Jo’s soft giggle.

When this happens, he pauses. Braced against the reclaimed wood of the bar, desperately straining his ears into the nothingness, begging for one more note. It’s only when a warm hand settles on his shoulder, always his left, somehow always, that he realises what he’s doing. There’s only one place that his prayers echo out anymore and all they do is remind Cas of all the things that Dean has lost, of all the parts of Dean’s life that he did not know, that he cannot restore. But at least now the old Hunter does not flinch at his touch. His body relaxes into the large, steady hand; grounded, brought back to the present where Jo’s laughter is an eternal echo that makes it neither real nor unreal. If their lives had taught them anything, the distinction is arbitrary.

Cas helps him collect the last of the glasses, stacking them into long, precarious towers. Not as tall as the ones Dean makes; he’s not as easy in his body, not as used to being observed, and he hates the sound of shattering glass, hates the silence afterwards, hates that moment of momentum when the breaking is about to happen and is happening and has happened. For angels, it’s always about to happen and happening and happened. Or, it used to be like that. When and so it is written meant something. Before, when it was Castiel and Dean Winchester, not now, in the after, when it is Cas and Dean.

There’s something deeply absurd happening here. You feel it when you first visit and you realise. Pulling off of a hunt in nowhere middle America, aching in your bones and, depending on what you killed, your heart, and you remember that Dean Winchester - yeah, that Dean Winchester - opened a bar around here. It’s already ridiculous, considering the things you’ve heard. Only half of them can be true, mostly the half that you can reconcile with your understanding of the truth.

John Winchester’s boy? Haven’t you heard?

Haven’t you heard he has a face you’d pay twice the going rate for? Haven’t you heard he’ll take it? Haven’t you heard he’s the best Hunter of his age? Haven’t you heard he sold his soul? Haven’t you heard an angel brought him back? Haven’t you heard he lost it again? To John? To the devil? To God? Haven’t you heard he was the most feared monster in Purgatory? Haven’t you heard losing his soul was nothing compared to losing his brother, to losing his angel, to losing his angel again, and again, and again?

Haven’t you heard? They’re in love.

So you roll up to the door of the bar and it just looks like a bar because the warding is painted beneath the sign holding the name, and the devil’s trap is in the shadows of the ceiling, and hex bags are stowed inside of the cushions of the stools, and a silver rosary consecrated by softly sung blessings, murmured by the human mouth of an Angel, sits in the water tank. Even if you know, you do not know. But you feel safe here, that is the point, the commandment of the space; welcome and be welcomed. And maybe you sit at the bar, tired and alone and lonely, surrounded (for the first time?) by people with whom you can speak freely and you realise the weight of speaking in code, always hiding, bearing a burden that sears into your soul until you’re not sure you have one anymore. You hear they burn out, that you can use them up, and then what are you?

But tonight you’re safe behind the warding and in front of a bar with a surprisingly pretentious beer menu and burgers that come with avocado and the word seasonal in front of some of the offerings. But there are people you’re familiar with, even if you don’t know them, you know them. Their faces hold the same weariness, their clothes practical or incongruous by design, masks and costumes and performances, all finally relaxed. So relax.

Maybe you haven’t seen him since before John died, or before he went to Hell, or before he killed God(?), but that doesn’t matter. Maybe you read the books, enjoying being in the know, enjoying that you enjoy them differently from all the other people that enjoy them, for better reasons. Maybe his name is a myth passed from Hunter to Hunter, monster to monster, or between the two (is there a two? You try not to think about this too much). Older now, so much older than he could’ve ever hoped for. Masculine in every way you hope to be masculine, if you really understand what it means, but by hoping and understanding you fail. He’s tall and broad shouldered, and wears a flannel shirt over a band tshirt and dishtowel over his shoulder, and his jaw is sharp and hard and stubbled, and his eyes framed by deep crow’s feet; he sees you and you feel seen. His forearms are too tanned for the season, but you’re distracted by how they flex under the skin, and his hands are big and rest on the wood in front of you, just hands now, but they might as well be an armoury for all the death they’ve caused.

So, maybe you’re suddenly afraid because the things you didn’t want to be true? Suddenly reality has shifted and not only do they reconcile with the truth, they are immutable from it, it is more impossible that impossible things don’t happen to this man.

Then he smiles.

“What can I get ya?”

His voice is so low it’s like traffic from a highway just out of sight from your motel room, that when you lie in the dark becomes part of your body, as essential to your existence as the thudding of your heart and the huffing of your lungs and the buzzing from the dying lights in the walkway outside. It’s atomic. It’s celestial.

Wasn’t the other one supposed to be an angel?

You don’t know. You’re not used to having choices. Simple choices, selfish ones, luxurious ones: if you want fries or steak-cut chips, American or Swiss, IPA or stout or lager, light or dark, or spirits. It embarrasses you, how difficult it is, in the face of meaninglessness, how do you fare?

“Just a beer, man.”

“I gotcha,” he tips his chin understandingly and gets to work.

Probably gets this all the time, an understood consequence of stepping outside of the comfort zone. Your comfort zone, not his, you realise. This is his domain, his playground, his paradise on Earth, as was the promised bounty for fighting on humanity’s side in the war. The one no one else had to fight in because he did.

Did he still have the sword?

‘German pilsner.”

“It’s good.”

His smile seems genuine and so is your surprise.

“What you here for?”

You keep your eyes on his, if you blink, you’ll see it again. “Shifter. Of a sort.”

“Mmm.”

“Then home.”

That catches his interest. “Where’s home?”

“Iowa.”

Then he opens the ground beneath you: “Who’s home?”

“Whoever’s left.”

He grunts appreciatively, his gaze flickering over his shoulder. You notice the bands on his fingers. Silver, you assume pure, but it catches the light in a way that isn’t quite right, you stare at it. He twists it with his thumb, an unconscious habit, a soothing touch, a comfort. Even a Winchester needs comforts. It’s a comfort in of itself.

A young woman, her blonde hair half-braided and threaded with metal, slides over the top of the bar, her leather trousers giving her enough slip over the wood. Her heavy boots thud onto the ground and she grins manically at his frown.

“What have I told you about-“

“Yeah, yeah, nice to see you too, old man.”

She kisses him on the cheek, he rolls his eyes, but leans into it, his mouth quirking upwards at the corners. Another woman appears, dark skinned and soft-eyed, she walked around the bar, civilised and grounded. The blonde throws her arm over her shoulders, you remember who they are: Claire and Kaia Nieves. The daughter of an Angel and a Dreamwalker. You heard they spared a family of werewolves on the West coast, you heard there’s a network for them, monsters who are not monstrous. You don’t like to think about what that means for you. The things you’ve done.

“Where is he?” He gestures to the back and they disappear. He looks after them, his face soft and open; you can’t imagine him torturing souls in Hell.

There are pockets of people throughout the bar: loners like you, pairs and trios quietly nursing their sustenance, groups crowding round tables, pulling chairs from elsewhere or standing when there are none free. They’re loud and joyful and free. Is it better to have a crowd? Is it enough to be adjacent? You’re not sure you have the energy to socialise, to make nice, maybe next time.

Someone enters and everyone’s heads turn, he’s called over to different tables, dropping by to say hello to everyone who calls his name: Sam fucking Winchester! He’s tall, made even taller by the short woman by his side, and their hands move animatedly as they talk, too precise, too many deliberate gestures to just be physicality. He watches her when she speaks, her voice is rounded and deliberate. Eileen Leahy. A Deaf Hunter. You remember someone telling you she was eaten by Hellhounds, dragged into the pit, and brought back by Sam, his magic, his love, willing to transcend the boundaries of life, upset the balance of the universe: all for her. You feel ashamed for wondering how she made it far enough to meet the Winchesters. It’s a fair question of any Hunter, the answer the same: in their own way. No one survives because they have all the makings of a Hunter, a preset list of requirements that they meet; you survive because you face the job with what you have and you do what you have to.

Dean salutes her playfully, she smiles so wide it looks like it hurts. You can’t remember the last time you smiled like that, the last time you felt pain that didn’t hurt. She sits at the bar and Sam sits next to her, towering and gentle. You remember him. The Boy King. No longer a boy, his throne abdicated. Does he really have demon blood coursing through his veins? Hell is closed up now, sometimes a demon pops up here and there, but not like before, when the world was full of them, when all you did was exorcise and pray and holy water became a currency and left most of the community ordained ministers from variously dubious sites of divine origin, consecrated ground became the last stronghold against the end of the world. The future placed in the hands of Sam Winchester. Now you know the face. You struggle to imagine the Devil in his eyes, not when you’ve seen true evil.

The Winchesters are not similar enough to be clocked as brothers. But there’s something in the tilt of their shoulders and their hazel green eyes and the cadence of their voices that suggests kinship, brotherhood, forged in the fires of Hell and gilded by the light of Heaven. They’re just men, you realise. Earthly and solid and real, no more myth than the one you beheaded just the other night, it’s blood as real as the blood that marks them Winchester. Just like anyone else.

“Isn’t Claire supposed to be helping out?”

Dean sighs. “She’s upstairs. Giving her a minute, she hasn’t been around in months.” You think he sounds upset. “Typical.”

“It’s a good thing, Dean,” Sam pushes. “Her and Kaia are doing a hundred times better than we would’ve.”

“We?” He snorts. “At their age you were smoking oregano with your bougie friends. I was actually saving people.”

Sam pulls a face. “You’re such a jerk.”

“And you’re a bitch,” he signs it big and deliberate, winking at Eileen. “Hey, want another?”

It takes a second for you to realise he’s talking to you, by then all three of them have their attention on you, openly appraising you. You wonder what they read in your posture, your face, the way you’ve ripped a paper napkin into tiny shreds.

“Any other recommendations?”

“Got a new dark in, like dessert in a glass.” He looks at Sam: “Finally found an apiarist to work with.”

“Apiarist?” You venture.

Dean looks towards the door that leads to the mysterious back. “Bee keeper. My-“ He pauses abruptly. “He likes bees.”

My. He.

Perhaps you don’t mean to, but you eyes flicker to the rainbow flag over the doorway. You notice more stuck in glasses on the shelves, some of them rainbow, some of the blue-purple-pink bands, some of them orange-white-pink. What is it like? You know what people say behind his back, what they’ve always said, the people in the know. The men who had paid for a moment with Dean Winchester, the men who had gotten one for free, the men who had hoped for either, for anything. They still call him names. If only John could see him now. John always knew he was a disappointment. Wouldn’t be like this if John were alive.

That doesn’t seem fair. You didn’t know John Winchester, most people didn’t. He died so long ago and Hunters have a quick turnaround, reblooded often, rarely more than a decade of history able to be told first-hand. Dean watches you and your eyes and you wonder what he’ll do, if you became a threat, how does he eliminate threats now? You shiver at the thought. You let wistfulness seep through. You try to convey the kinship. The I see me in you and you in me. The you fascinate me the same way a shadow does. The show me your throat and I’ll show you mine. The secret language you’ve learnt to speak. The other one. Hidden even beneath the Hunter’s code. The more forbidden one. The one of monsters like you. Like us.

It must work because he softens. He pours the dessert in a glass even though you didn’t order it and places it in front of you, next to the glass he places something small and shiny, he doesn’t wait for you to acknowledge it. It’s a metal pin. The silver knotted into a symbol you don’t know, impressively intricate for the size, and when you hold it, it feels unusually warm. You remember the way Dean’s ring caught the light, throwing it more than it should, almost giving off its own light, almost glowing. Whatever it is made of, this is its sibling. You pin it to your jacket, on the left lapel, the proximity to your heart neither deliberate nor indeliberate. It pleases him. You pleased him.

The drink is good, better than the last. Truthfully, you don’t like beer that much, but it’s easy and universal and unassuming. This isn’t beer, not in that way. It’s smooth and creamy and sweet, it rolls around on your tongue, asking to be tasted, not to be drunk. The honey has that sharpness of real, pure honey, the slight antiseptic burn you get from eating it straight from the jar. You remember eating honey from a jar, a chunk of comb suspended in the golden substance. You didn’t know it meant so much to you.

“Finally!”

“Get off my dick,” Claire bats back.

“Who the fuck taught you to be so rude?”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s no sense of upset between them. “What do you want with me?”

“Glasses.”

“Ughh, are you serious?”

“As a werepire.”

“There is no such thing as a werepire,” a new voice cuts in. It’s grumbling like Dean’s, somehow more gravelly; do they communicate in earthquakes? “Stop trying to make werepire happen.”

Castiel.

You gasp before you can stop yourself. An Angel of the Lord, walking on Earth, living above a bar instead of Heaven. He’s nothing that you expect. Tall and commanding, but different from Dean and Sam, the same, but somehow very not. His eyes are bright and intense, as blue as the deepest sky, the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen, a blue that you never thought possible until right this second. You feel as if you should look away, as if seeing beneath a hair covering, something sacred and prized, something that is not for public consumption, only God’s eyes. Only Dean Winchester’s eyes. What is the difference now? Is this bar paradise? Where is the divinity in craft beer and crude hunters, clawing out a life on the edges of society, wading through the horror in the hope of retaining peace, but not for yourselves. Nothing is for yourself.

Except they have claimed each other. You heard Dean is branded, a scar of a handprint seared into his skin, a memento from when they met. They met in Hell. Castiel touched his soul and raised him from Hell and fell in love with him, literally fell. Who would love you if they had seen your soul? Seen the personal realm of Hell you curated? Can you even love yourself?

Doesn’t it leave you breathless?

And then the picture shifts. Castiel turns and you see a child, old enough to walk, but small enough to get away with demanding not to. It’s balanced on the Angel’s hip like it belongs there, like his body (is it his? Who did it belong to? Are they still there? Did they ask for this?) was made to hold it there. Dean ruffles their hair, their ambiguity is intriguing, refreshing for the Hunting community. Youth is a clean slate, you are never more full of options, full of potential, which slowly seeps from you as your choices narrow, as life demands decisions, assigns decisions, weighs you down with expectations and being perceived, an object for perception rather than existence.

You’ve heard about the child. A nephil. But no one knows the details. No one is brave enough to ask.

The child reaches for Dean and is pulled into his arms, plastered against his chest, small and content and belonging. You wonder what their life will be like. Will they be a Hunter? You doubt it, you doubt the doubt. How do you choose to bring life into this life? It’s too hard, too sad, too lonely, too destructive. Not even dandelions grow through the concrete paving of a Hunter’s solitude, of their broken soul and heart, tings you drag along behind you like a yoke, reminding you that you must keep going, that one day, you will not be able to keep going. The baggage. How do you inflict that on a child? When will this creature’s heart be torn out of its chest and put inside a box and chained shut, only to be your greatest weakness and source of strength?

Or will it be happy?

“You need to go to bed, buddy,” Dean says quietly, his voice so steeped in affection it makes your chest yearn. You can’t help being in earshot. That doesn’t make it right. “Want me? What’s wrong with your Dad?”

The child murmurs something silently.

“Okay. I got you,” his arms seem to tighten. “Cas? We’re going up.”

Cas. It rolls off of his tongue so easily, the repetition of a thousand, a million, making it more at home in his mouth than his own name. An Angel of the Lord called Cas because he stands on Earth, because he is not part of Heaven, because he is of Dean, not of God. He touches the child’s face gently, tenderly, motherly, and you ache for such simple, all-consuming affection, for someone to look at you with the reverence of worship at the altar of a god that speaks back. Castiel’s (because Cas is not for your mouth) hand runs down Dean’s arm, his fingers trailing, prolonging, and when it drops away, Dean leaves.

You’ve nearly finished your dessert in a glass without even realising, it’s good. Too good. You could drink it all night, but you shouldn’t. The list of shouldn’ts is getting too long. You can’t remember anything left that you can do, that doesn’t conflict with an imperative for self-restriction. Where do you have to be? Who is expecting you? What is your next move? Why are you even questioning it?

He notices you.

“Ah, Sweet Dreams. How did you like it?” He tilts his head, a little more than most people would, reminiscent of a puppy, of the velociraptors in that film, assessing your prey potential. You’re aware of his magnitude. You’re aware of your insignificance.

“Very smooth. Filling.”

“That is the problem, but Dean humours me.”

“With the bees?”

He nods seriously. “They’re dying at an alarming rate, you know.”

“I did.”

“Have you been here before?”

“First time.”

“Welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“You look tired. Are you staying the night? We have rooms.”

“Uh-“

“That’s not a proposition,” he adds quickly. “Dean tells me that I sound like I’m hitting on people when I say that.”

You smile at his humanness. “I didn’t feel propositioned.” Would you like to? “I- I usually stay in my car, to be honest.”

His smile falters. “I wouldn’t advise that, it’s very uncomfortable and you’re much safer in here. The warding is some of my best work.”

“You never actually asked if I was a Hunter.” Hoping he’ll smite you?

He narrows his eyes playfully. “I didn’t have to. I know Hunters.”

“You must know everything.”

That catches him off guard. “Not as much as I used to.”

“What?”

Another head tilt. This one is more amused. “I guess news doesn’t travel as fast as you think. I am depowered,” he uses his fingers to make air quotes around the word. He laughs, but it’s a grating, sad sound. “Fallen.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” He shrugs. “So, a room?”

You somehow agree to stay. The rates are reasonable and the weather turned recently, so you know that even if you get some sleep in your car, it’ll be fraught and restless, and a warm bed in the safest place in the US is hard to turn down. You wonder if they’re both always this attentive or if its you, if you’re really that pathetic, if it rolls off of you like a stench, trails after you like blood, someone else, yours. You accept the insistence of kindness from the Angel, former, no, current; he says otherwise, but you see divinity in his eyes, in his smile, in the way that he touched Dean, in the way he held his child.

“Was-“ You swallow and finger the pin that Dean gave you. “Was that your kid?”

Castiel nods happily. “Jack.”

“And Claire?”

Castiel looks across the bar at Claire, laughing loudly and talking in big, dramatic gestures with a group of Hunters. “Yes.”

He doesn’t offer clarification. You feel stupid for wanting some. All of the impossible things you’ve seen, why do you care? Why do you need to know the details? Why does it matter that they are together? That they created a family? Do you think you can too? Do you think you’re as special as Winchester?

He leans on the bar. ‘Claire is my vessel’s daughter. I took her father from her.”

“That’s intense.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“And Jack?”

“He-“ He pauses. “He chose me. You know how are nephil are.”

“Sure…”

“God, he is too good at that.” Dean interrupts loudly, pressing his face into the back of Castiel’s shoulder. “I always fall asleep putting him down.”

Castiel pats his head. “He’s spoilt.”

“Yeah, well, gotta make up for tryna shoot him, huh?” You and Castiel share a look. You do not ask for clarification. “You stayin’?” You nod. “Awesome. Another drink?”

The room spins gently around you, but you’re content to watch the show. It’s not one that would be on TV, but it should be, warm and carefree and soft, it’s the show of a family. They move around each other in a practiced dance; Sam and Eileen and Claire and Kaia and Castiel and Dean. So many of them. All alive. All in love. So much love. It’s hard not to watch Dean and Castiel, they’re captivating. Beautiful. You notice the magnetism, how they’re constantly touching, brushing, holding, pressing, it seems so easy, it would seem so easy if you weren’t watching, but you are, and you see how Dean watches the room, the way he look out before he does something deliberate, the way he pauses, the way he checks himself and checks himself checking himself. Dean tells a joke you don’t catch. Castiel responds by kissing him. You feel like you shouldn’t be watching. Your heart won’t let you look away. They talk an inch from each other’s faces. You wonder what it feels like to love someone like that.

Once you save the world, you can have it too.

God, you’re so tired, it’s a tired that sinks you into the ground, that makes you blood slow and your heart sticky and blinking a dangerous game. You want to see the end of the episode though. You don’t want to miss a moment.

Thud.

“Game over kiddo,” Claire comments when you sit up suddenly. “Past your bedtime.”

“I’m older than you,” you say, or slur, or think.

She laughs. “Sure. You got a room? I’ll show you up.” She frowns. “That’s not a proposition.”

You laugh. “Like father, like daughter.”

Her eyes slide over to the pair. “In all the ways that matter.”

The room is small and cosy: a double bed and thick duvet, a jug of water on the dresser, a small plate with cookies on it.

“Dean makes them,” Claire says as she watches you examine the room. “Don’t tell him I told you, if you remember that is.”

“Not tha’ drunk,” you protest, but the world spins when you close your eyes.

“Uh-huh. If you need anything just, uh, deal with it? This isn’t the Hilton. My D- Dean gets up pretty early, but if you wanna get away there’s like a key box and stuff. Night.”

The door clicks closed and you’re left alone. Your head feels fuzzy and full and empty at the same time, and you wonder how you got here. You wonder it a lot. Every time you’re searching for a hunt, driving to one, checking your weapons, reading the lore, tracking down a creature that has no right to exist.

That has no right not to exist.

For the first time in… well, you can’t even think about it, you sleep well. As soon as you crawl into bed, curled under the heavy duvet, surrounded by warmth and softenss, it creeps into your brain and takes away the tension from your body. You don’t even think to check the room for warding or make an escape plan, the assurance of safety here is like the knowledge that the sun will rise tomorrow, to doubt it seems like an insult to you and the universe. Maybe there is gentleness in the hunting life, a tender hand of comfort and understanding that will offer quiet and healing and rest, between the blood and guts and bones and death. Life.

You have dreams you don’t understand, but they don’t scare you. Nothing hunts you in the dark corners of your mind, you are not lost, you are not running, you are safe. Bathed in blue-white light that feels like sunshine and makes your lips tingle. It’s pure and divine and you do not feel worthy, but the feeling does not last, the self-loathing is soothed, washed away like a baptism of permission to see the way you try, how hard you fight, how hard you live.

Like any seasoned Hunter, the dawn brings consciousness, even though you definitely haven’t had enough sleep, yet you feel rested. More rested than you have in years. The ache in your bones that keeps you awake too late and forces you from shitty motel beds too early seems like a distant memory, one from a life you’re not sure you actually lived, like a reoccurring dream that permeates you waking days, but the relief, that’s real. Like the shower you take, the water almost too hot, the water pressure almost too hard, but it purifies you in a way that you thought was no longer possible, not after the things you’ve done, the things you’ve seen.

Packed and ready to go, you linger by the door, wondering, briefly, what the rush is. Why do you need to leave today? What is really waiting for you at the other end?

But this is not home. (Nowhere is home.)

Being in a bar in the morning feels wrong, the grey light filtering into the room that’s already too lit, too exposed. Somehow it feels inviting though. A couple of people are already in the room, sipping out of big mugs with plates piled with toast and pastries and even cooked food. Who’s the chef here?

“Mornin’! How’s your head?” Dean grins brightly from behind the bar. He’s wearing a stained apron that says lord of the pies and the way he looks at you makes the floor feel soft underfoot, so you forget that he actually asked you a question.

“No complaints yet,” you quip, daring to make a reference that exposes you both. Your fingers find the pin on your jacket, still oddly warm, already a comfort.

He allows a small smile. “Breakfast?”

“Coffee, please, lots.”

“You’re speaking my language.” The coffee smells good, expensive, something that you would pay $7 dollars for because you know what you’re really buying is the chance to sit somewhere beautiful and put together when you are anything but. “Milks and sugar just there.”

Although it feels like sacrilege, you forgo the pancakes he tries to convince you on; you’ve never had much of a stomach in the mornings, but especially not this early, after drinking, with such a long drive ahead. You’ll regret not eating in a few hours, but you’ve never been kind to your future self, why start now? You watch and sip your coffee and let the day seep into your brain, acknowledging that you have to live today, get on with it all. Again.

Three cups in and it’s time to go. You were hoping to see Castiel again, but he hasn’t appeared. Disembodied hands produced Jack through the doorway, but you couldn’t tell who they belonged to, maybe Castiel, maybe Claire. The toddler is more awake, he follows Dean around behind the bar, babbling nonsense that Dean replies to in a gentle, but grown up tone, always acknowledging his sentences, even when there’s no real answer to give. He’s a father. Embarrassingly you imagine him as the father of your children, however that would happen doesn’t matter, it’s a fantasy. A fantasy of security and domesticity. The only knives that Dean Winchester yields now are the ones in his kitchen; the only flesh he cuts through is whatever is on the menu, already slayed and butchered; the only fights he has are bickering with his family.

Family.

Your family is somewhere, out there, maybe where you left them, what’s left of them. Dean picks Jack up and they dance to the song on the radio, some sugary pop song that makes Jack laugh in that infectious toddler way and you get to witness the Dean Winchester sing all the words, perfectly. This isn’t the Dean that ruled Hell or Purgatory or Earth, that was the Hunter and the bow, the sword to Castiel’s shield, that fought the Devil and God and the every other cosmic entity. Could this Dean Winchester have saved the world?

But maybe this isn’t his weakness. If you do not have a soft underbelly then why do you need to have claws? If you do not have a reason to fight then what drives you to win? Dean bares his throat to the world to show it that he has something to protect, and that is what makes him so dangerous. What do you have? Where is the kink in your armour? What are you fighting for?

The bar disappears into the distance, shrinking in your rearview mirror the way a dream slips through your memory like water between your fingers as consciousness takes over. The roads are all the same, the towns are all the same, but you are not. The dread in the pit of your stomach is no longer a knife holding you hostage, but a knot attached to a rope, pulling you back, anchoring you. For all the time spent fighting it, the magnetic pull to a place you felt you could no longer love, people you could no longer have if you wanted to survive. They are what convinces you to survive. You think about the way Dean and Castiel looked at each other when the other wasn’t watching, you thinking about the way Sam never stopped smiling when Eileen spoke, you think about how Claire became a teenager again in Castiel’s arms.

On the second ring, your phone connects.

“I’m on my way.”

#personal #my fic #fanfic #spn fanfic #ao3 #destiel #saileen #2nd person pov #something a bit different #this definitely had a life of its own #bar owner!Dean #post canon spn #15x20 who?#outsider pov #domestic fluff #spn advent calender 2020 #yes I am using the prompts from this lol

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arazialotis · 6 years ago

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Two Twin Arrows

This was written for the wonderful and fabulous @atc74 Fierce Females in Fanfiction Challenge as a celebration for her amazing achievement of reaching 3000 followers!! Thanks babe for hosting this fun challenge!

Prompt: I am Strong Because I had to be. I will take back what is mine and give nothing in return.

Word Count: Around 2600

Summary: When your twin brother goes missing, you will do everything in your power to track him down and bring him home.

Warnings: Language

***

Your little brother was perhaps the single most important piece of your life; he meant everything to you. Of course, you were technically twins, but being born nine days earlier gave you an advantageous head start. You even helped your mother through his birth. And when you held him, so small and vulnerable in your arms, his laugh as bright as the sun, you vowed on that day to do everything in your power to protect him; always.

Yet when you swore that promise, you had yet to realize the gravity behind it. It was soon after that it dawned on you that you and Apollo were destined to be exact opposites. He the sun, you the moon; you chaste and pure and he… Well, to say promiscuous would be putting it lightly. You were cunning and thoughtful and he was impulsive and impetuous, proning him to all types of trouble you’d bail him from. So when he went missing, and he often did, it didn’t surprise you.

Two weeks was fine, but at three weeks you started to worry. And as the weeks turned into months you knew you had to go looking for him. The last time he went missing was for a month and a half in the roaring twenties. You tracked him down to New York City and discovered him in the middle of a bender so infamous, Dionysus himself was envious. Had mortals shown an ounce of respect for gods these days, Apollo would have at least one or two more stories to add to his repertoire.

After that, the two of you stayed in the New World, occasionally travelling here or there, for family engagements. As much as possible, you kept a low profile, and tried to convince your brother to as well. It worked, for the most part.

This time after he went missing, naturally, you started with the party towns and after hearing about a ‘miracle’ in Las Vegas where the sun didn’t set for three days time, you knew you had found the place to start. Knowing Apollo had a flair for extravagance, you started at the top, working your way down. But even the Bentel & Bentel penthouse suite at the Cosmopolitan Hotel was a but flashy, even for him.

The signs of his inhabitants were all to clear, but he had not returned even after several days. You started pursuing club surveillance, finally pinning him to the Emerald Gentlemen's Club. It was his last known whereabouts and the last place he was seen. All other traces of him had vanished. It was as if he didn’t want to be found. But on the video surveillance, two days later popped up another face. One you were all to familiar with. One Apollo had several run ins with that often lead to trouble. The trickster.

You hunted him down to the desolate wasteland of North Dakota, hiding like a fox in a hole. His private resort was carved into the side of a mountain, easily overlooked by the untrained eye. But Loki’s desire for luxury undid him. It glowed as obvious as a candle in the night, calling you in.

You lurked in the shadows for days. Watching, waiting, but Apollo never showed. You finally revealed yourself once you had enough of the cheating rat’s trickery. He was in the middle of a poker game, porn stars in barely nothing dancing around polls opposite of him. Three other men, all gruff placed bets. He lifted his his face, when you saw it. His two cards were four, all aces.

Your restraint could no longer be contained. You lifted your bow, sliding an arrow into place and without hesitation let it release. It tore right through the cards, pinning them to the table. The three gentlemen looked down at the table seeing the four cards displayed. They eyed Loki dangerously.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Fellas, those aren’t mine.” One man threw his hand down on the table, before rolling up his sleeves. But Loki paused the scene before it continued. “And neither is this.” He pried the arrow from the table, the illusion faded as he further examined it. The people, the cards, the drinks, all vanished leaving only you, him, and the furnishings. “Come out Katniss.” He goaded.

You bravely stepped out of the shadows.

“My… Athena… Haven’t you changed with the times.” He looked you up and down; your black skinny jeans tucked into dark boots., studded leather jacket over a silk red top, and your hair hanging down in curls.

“It’s Artemis, you pig.” You held you bow close.

“Ah yes.” He recalled. “All of you are so hard to keep straight. Don’t even get me started with the whole Roman thing…” He walked over to a wooden bar pouring himself a drink. “So what can I do ya for? I make a mean Sex on the Beach.” He offered before taking a sip.

You ignored the proposal. “I’m here for information. It’d be wise you answer truthfully in interest of your well being.” You paused and for a moment your curiosity got the better of you. “Is it true what they say about you?”

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “And what do they say about me? That I can last nights on end, that I have the endurance of a panther, that Aphrodite got half her stories from me, that Zeus wishes he had a pair like…” You squinted at him. “You dare tempt me?”

He chuckled. “Oh god no. I was just hoping that cute brother of yours was going to pop out of a shadow in a jealous rage. But it looks like I’m out of luck.”

Your hope dropped. “You’ve not seen Apollo?” Loki sighed. “Listen, I like to get wrapped up in a Greek tragedy at least once every century as much as the next guy, but when you guys start dropping in for holidays, come on, it starts to cramp my style.” You tucked your bow back into it’s satchel and turned to leave. But he grabbed your shoulder before you could. “Arty…” He cood. “What’s happened?”

You shook your head. “I’m sure nothing. You know how he is.”

“Let me suggest two things.” He held up a finger. “First, get a beeper for that kid. Second.” He pulled a card out of thin air. “Maybe it’s time to call in a favor from your patron saints…” You took the card. Eyeing it with suspicion. It was an FBI business card, with the name Agent Robert Plant and a phone number. Obviously a fake. Obviously a hunter. You looked back to Loki. “Thanks, but I got this.” You turned to leave again. “By the way. It looks like you might be molting… Gabriel.”

And with that he was left in the room alone. He looked down to his feet where a few golden feathers had collected. “Dammit!” He cursed.

***

Outside a small town in Iowa, you stayed in a rundown motel off of a dying highway route. In its glory days, southern tourists bound for Mt. Rushmore must have filled it to the brim. But now, in it’s secludedness and stillness, it was the perfect place to reconvene and focus. You twirled the business card back and forth between your fingers; considering it. If these hunters had any idea who you were or half the things you’ve done, they wouldn’t hesitating putting a stake through your chest. And Apollo… well, if they caught wind of him, there’s no telling what would happen.

You had arrogance, yes, but not the arrogance of other gods that would dismiss hunters as any other ape. You had to be smart, cunning, to treat them with respect, or your fate could easily end up as any other monster on their hit list.

Finally, you worked through your hesitation and dialed the number, faking the best damsel in distress act as you could. You simply needed to keep him on the line long enough to triangulate his position, then you could go to him, gauging his usefulness, if he proved otherwise, you could easily slip away with your presence going entirely unnoticed.

“Hello.” A strong, deep voice answered.

“Uh… hello, um Agent Plant?” You stuttered, voice a few octaves higher than usual.

“Yes?” His confusion quickly grew.

“I um, I got your number from a friend, Sally Hanson, I’m not sure if you remember, she says you helped her a few years back on a case…” You fabricated, but intently kept an eye on your laptop as the tracking software was running.

There was a pause as he tried to recall. “Oh, right, of course… Sally.” Even though there was confidence in his voice, you could tell it was complete bullshit. “Well, what seems to be troubling you.”

You sighed. “You see… it’s my brother, he’s been missing near two weeks. I haven’t been able to contact him.”

“Have you filed a missing persons report?” He asked, trying to fish out details of the case.

“Of course, but the local police haven’t been too helpful… Unfortunately, my brother has a bit of a reputation around here.” Actually the story came easier than you thought.

“And uh, what makes you think he simply hasn’t started fresh somewhere else?”

“Well, that does seem like him, but we’ve always been so close. He would never leave and not tell me.” You explained, heart hurting more and more as you began to diverge the truth.

“Well…” He chewed on it. “I’m not sure it’s exactly my type of case, I got a few things lined up, but if I have any openings….”

Shit. You needed a few more minutes. “I’m just so worried about him.” You interrupted. “There’s been other missing people too. With the police not helping I’ve tried to do my own investigation you know. And I started at this old hangout of his. And it’s just like creepy you know. I know I must be imagining things but there is just this chill that comes over you as...:” Bingo. You pinned him nearby Lebanon, Kansas.

He assumed you had stopped unable to continue from sadness or fear. “Okay sweetheart, just calm down. I’ll run the details by my partner and we’ll try to be out in a couple days. Where are you at anyways.”

“Oh…” You chuckled. “This is so embarrassing. He’s uh calling me right now. I’ll give you a call back if we need anything.” And you abruptly hung up, quickly switching off your phone so he couldn’t track you.

After taking a minute to breathe, you shook of any remainder of the act, for a damsel in distress you were surely not. You pack your things and checked out of the motel, heading for Lebanon.

***

Lebanon. It was a extremely small town. To say it was a one-horse town would be a vast understatement. But that made your hunt all the more easy. You set up shop at the only food market in town and waited.

It was two days before he showed up. His car stood out like a sore thumb. It was old enough to be handed down through the generations, taken well care of, countless of miles put on it, and modifications to the trunk. You expected a hunter, but the man not who stepped out of the car.

Your heart dropped. Instantly recognizing him from the security footage you reviewed time and time again in Vegas. But the fear was instantly replaced by boiling anger. Apollo wasn’t dead, yet. You could feel it. He couldn’t be. And not from the hands of this hunter. As he lazily strenched, you jolted from your car catching him by surprise. You grabbed his wrist, using the force to push him up against the car. He struggled a bit but you had him pinned.

“Where is he?!” You demanded.

Dean pondered trying to catch up. “Listen, sweetheart..” He started.

You cut him off, shoving him hard against the car. “Call me that one more time.” You warmed. “Where is my brother?”

“Why don’t you just calm down and we can find him together.” Dean attempted to de-escalate your anger.

“I’m not taking your bullshit hunter.” You spat. “You were there. In Las Vegas. When he disappeared.” Tears threatened to spill over.

It took him a second, but then it clicked. “I might know where he is. How about all three of us meet up tonight…” He stopped when he felt his hands being tied together. “You will take me to him now.”

You took the keys from his pocket, opened the door and shoved him inside. You slid into the driver’s seat, next to him.

“Oh hell no.” He protested as you started up the car.

Just by briefly looking around it was easy to see the car was occupied usually by three. “Don’t bother trying to notify your partners.” You noticed he already seemed to be looking for a knife to pry out of the ropes. “The more you resist the restraints the tighter they become.” “What are you?” Dean huffed as you pulled out of the parking lot. “Witches, demons.”

You lightly chuckled but did not grant him the satisfaction of an answer.

***

It took a while to find his location, he not being the most helpful or willing subject. But his emotions became easier to read the more time spent with him. The subtle gritting of teeth or sighs of relief each correct or incorrect turn you made, it led you closer to the destination until you finally arrived.

You led Dean through the entrance, dagger at his back to hinder him or his partners from trying anything. The door swung open with a heavy creak leading into the hideout below. To be honest, you were impressed with the space.

“Dean?” Someone called from below. His younger brother. Taller, longer hair, but still a touch of youthfulness that Dean lacked.

“Hiya Sammy.” Dean drearily greeted.

Sam reached for the gun in his back pocket, but your second dagger buzzed threw the air dislodging it before it was even pointed at you.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked through the shock.

“She’s a lot stronger than she looks.” Dean scoffed.

“I’m strong because I had to be.” You explained as Dean felt the dagger press harder against his back. “Born into a world of vengeful and sex crazed gods, I didn’t have any other choice. Now, I will take back what is mine and give nothing in return.”

Sam still had confusion plastered across his face, attempting to work out what Dean already had. Everyone’s attention broke at the sound of a coffee mug shattering against the floor. You turned to the sound, expecting their third partner but instead finding your fool of a brother in a bathrobe.

“Arty?” He sheepishly asked.

“Apollo.” You sighed a breath of relief and released Dean, running towards him. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” You checked him over.

He rolled his eyes. “Arty you are embarrassing me.”

When all seemed right, you punched him square in the shoulder. “What the hell? You can’t just disappear on me like that.”

“Ow.” He moaned and rubbed the spot on impact. “Can you blame me? They’re cute.” He defended. “I didn’t need you up in my business ruining everything. You’re kinda a cock blocker.”

As you argued back and forth, Dean made his way slowly down the stairs and joined Sam, marvelling in wonderment.

“Turns out we’ve had a god living with us, right under our noses.” Dean commented.

Apollo’s argument sounded over them. “Besides, anytime there was a successful hunt, I burnt offerings of incense to you.”

“Like that matters!” You spat.

“For a whole month….” Sam added to his and Dean’s side conversation. “We must be losing our touch.”

***

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writteninvisibly · 6 years ago

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You asked me to send a writing prompt and I am either late or early but that is fine. Anyway! I think it would be hella cute if you wrote something where they (idk who I mean by they you can use anyone from anything you want lol) are lost and it's cute bc they like each other and this is exciting !! But also they have no idea where they are at all

!!!! Hell yeah!!! (I’m gonna give you a bonus moodboard for the ship too ahahahahahahaha whoops)

“Leo…”

“Hush.”

“But-”

Leona took Bea’s hand in her own, drawing it close and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then trust me. We’re going to be fine. We aren’t lost.”

Bea scoffed but didn’t pull her hand away. “We are too.”

“No we are not. We are on an adventurous end of summer roadtrip going wherever the wind may take us. Ergo we are not lost, simply wandering.”

“You’re ridiculous, and if we don’t find a town soon we’re going to be sleeping in your car.”

Leona did her best to look offended. “How dare you! My Heloise is the pinnacle of comfort! The height of luxury! The Four Seasons of cars! You should be delighted that you get the opportunity to even think about sleeping in her, and-”

“Leo.”

Leona sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. This was supposed to be really fun, I didn’t expect there to be so few towns with motels in Iowa.”

Bea chuckled softly, turning to face the other girl full on. “Anyone in town could have told you that. Iowa is notoriously unpopulated. I don’t understand how you become a nomadic teenager without finding that out.” She took Leona’s hand with both of hers, smoothing her thumbs over the other girl’s knuckles. “This is fun. I’m sorry about my attitude, it’s just… I’ve never really left town before. I mean, I have, but not really. Not for an extended period of time. I’m usually back by nightfall, and this is… new to me. It’s different, and I thought I was way ready for it, but I guess not.”

Leona looked over for a moment, heart clenching at the sight of Bea staring down at her hand looking a little lost. “If I’d known that I would have suggested a shorter trip this time. A day or two away from home is different than a week and a half. I wish you would have told me.”

Bea shrugged even thought she knew Leona couldn’t see it. “I wanted to do this. I was really excited to. It was… a risk that I was ready and willing to take. Especially with you.”

The last part was said so quietly that Leona had to strain to hear it, and once she had she wasn’t quite sure she’d heard correctly. “Can we make a deal?” She squeezed her hand around Bea’s gently. “Pull out your phone and we’ll find the nearest motel, okay? And then in the morning we can start heading back. We can cut this trip a little short and then we can start working our way up to big trips.”

“Where does the deal part come in?”

Leona smiled at the teasing note in Bea’s voice. “The deal part is that from now on you have to promise me that you’ll let me know when we’re about to do something new, or something on a larger scale than what you’ve done before. Things like this can be… a lot for anyone, especially for a small town girl who’s always slept in her own bed.”

“Hey!”

She grinned. “How about that phone, huh? I don’t want to be driving all night.”

“Yes ma’am.”

—

That night they crawled into bed together like they’d done the past two nights, curling around each other on a dusty hotel mattress that smelled slightly of disinfectant. Bea tucked her head under Leona’s chin and Leona wrapped her arms around Bea’s shoulders as if to shield her from the outside world. They’d be heading back tomorrow, but even if they weren’t they’d have each other. No matter what came their way, no matter how far they were from home, they would have each other. That made it all worth it.

#hell-yeah-writing #hell-yeah-writing asks #elliot #elliot asks

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ourcherokeeinniowa · 28 days ago

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Experience Comfort and Spirituality at Your Cherokee, IA Hotel: A Perfect Blend of Relaxation and Culture

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janicecpitts · 6 years ago

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addictionrecoveryassistance · 6 years ago

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thetrustreport · 7 years ago

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http://www.waverlyiahotel.com (319) 352-0399 Quality Inn, Waverly IA Review Your trip to Waverly with our free hot breakfast and free coffee. Your guest room offers relaxation and features a coffee maker, desk, TV, hair dryer, iron and ironing board. Some rooms also feature a refrigerator and a microwave, and we also have four spacious and luxurious whirlpool suites. Hotel near Wartburg College Motel near University of Northern Iowa hotels near waverly iowa renaissance waverly hotel motels in waverly iowa comfort inn waverly iowa renaissance waverly waterloo hotel hotels in waterloo iowa waverly motel comfort inn waverly lodging in waverly iowa The place was spotless, inside and out, and the staff very friendly and helpful. Room was clean and quiet and the breakfast was excellent. They keep the 'help yourself' breakfast area very clean in the mornings which is appealing, especially if you're not the first one to belly up. I can't say enough good things and I'd put this facility up against very high end hotels in cleanliness. I'll be back. Quality Inn, Waverly Iowa 404 29th Ave SW Waverly IA 50677 Call (319) 352-0399 to book your reservation http://www.waverlyiahotel.com

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hoteles5estrellas · 8 years ago

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I wanted to visit some friends up there, but I am having a hard time finding any cheap way ($200 or less) to get up there. Any ideas?

submitted by /u/StormyGalaxy [link] [comments]

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ourcherokeeinniowa · 1 month ago

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How to Choose the Right Accommodation for Your Needs in Cherokee, IA

Cherokee, Iowa, is a charming destination known for its small-town hospitality, scenic beauty, and rich history. Whether you're visiting for a weekend getaway, family reunion, or business trip, selecting the right accommodation is crucial to ensuring a comfortable and enjoyable stay. With a variety of options, including hotels and motels in Cherokee IA, finding a place that aligns with your needs and preferences might seem overwhelming. This guide will walk you through everything you need to know to make the best choice for your trip.

Why Cherokee, IA?

Nestled in northwest Iowa, Cherokee offers a mix of cultural, historical, and recreational activities. Highlights include the Sanford Museum and Planetarium, Cherokee Depot, and the beautiful Little Sioux River, which offers opportunities for fishing, kayaking, and hiking. Its welcoming community and array of attractions make it an appealing destination for travelers of all kinds.

Choosing the right accommodation in Cherokee is essential to maximizing your visit. Here’s how to find the perfect fit for your stay.

1. Define Your Budget

Your budget plays a significant role in determining the type of accommodation you can afford. Cherokee offers a range of lodging options, from affordable motels to comfortable mid-range hotels.

Budget-Friendly Tip:

Motels in Cherokee IA are a great choice for travelers seeking economical yet clean and convenient accommodations.

Look for seasonal promotions or packages offered by local establishments to save even more.

2. Consider Your Travel Purpose

The purpose of your visit can influence the type of lodging you choose.

Business Travelers: Look for hotels in Cherokee IA with amenities like free Wi-Fi, meeting rooms, and convenient locations near the downtown area.

Leisure Travelers: If your trip is focused on exploring Cherokee’s attractions, prioritize accommodations near local landmarks like the Cherokee Depot or Sanford Museum.

Family Trips: For families, hotels offering larger rooms, kid-friendly amenities, and proximity to parks or recreational activities can make the trip more enjoyable.

3. Prioritize Location

Location is a critical factor when choosing your accommodation. Staying near your intended activities can save you time and transportation costs.

Cherokee’s Key Areas:

Downtown Cherokee: Ideal for those who want easy access to shops, restaurants, and cultural sites.

Highway 59 Area: Perfect for travelers seeking convenience and accessibility for road trips or business travel.

Parks and Nature: If you’re planning outdoor adventures, consider accommodations near the Little Sioux River or other local parks.

Tip for Travelers:

Search for hotels near Cherokee Iowa to find options that put you close to the action without sacrificing comfort.

4. Assess Amenities and Features

Every traveler has different needs when it comes to amenities. Whether you prioritize luxury or simplicity, understanding what each hotel or motel offers can help narrow your choices.

Popular Amenities to Consider:

Free Wi-Fi: A must for business travelers and anyone looking to stay connected.

Complimentary Breakfast: Saves time and money, especially for families or budget-conscious travelers.

On-Site Parking: Important for those traveling by car or rental vehicle.

Pet-Friendly Policies: If you’re traveling with a furry friend, look for accommodations that welcome pets.

Spotlight on Motels in Cherokee IA:

Many motels in the area provide free parking, clean rooms, and essential amenities at affordable prices, making them a popular choice for budget-conscious travelers.

5. Read Reviews and Ratings

Online reviews and ratings are one of the best ways to gauge the quality of an accommodation. Travelers’ experiences can give you insight into cleanliness, customer service, and overall satisfaction.

What to Look For in Reviews:

Consistent praise for cleanliness and comfort.

Positive feedback about the staff's friendliness and responsiveness.

Detailed mentions of the amenities you value most, such as quiet rooms or convenient locations.

6. Think About Room Size and Layout

The size and layout of your room can greatly impact your comfort during your stay.

Solo Travelers or Couples: A standard room with a queen or king bed should suffice.

Families: Look for hotels offering family suites or adjoining rooms for extra space and convenience.

Extended Stays: If you’re staying in Cherokee for a week or more, accommodations with kitchenettes or laundry facilities can be invaluable.

7. Consider Accessibility Needs

If you or anyone in your group has specific accessibility requirements, ensure the accommodation can meet those needs.

Accessibility Features to Look For:

Elevator access or ground-floor rooms.

Handicap-accessible bathrooms.

Proximity to public transportation or local attractions.

8. Look for Unique Local Options

Staying in accommodations with a local touch can enhance your experience in Cherokee.

Local Motels: Many motels in Cherokee offer a personalized touch, with staff who are knowledgeable about the area and can provide recommendations for dining and activities.

Boutique Hotels: Some smaller hotels offer a unique charm and atmosphere that larger chains may lack.

9. Check for Special Offers and Packages

Many hotels and motels in Cherokee IA offer special packages that can add value to your stay. These might include discounted rates for longer stays, free meals, or tickets to local attractions.

How to Find Deals:

Check the official websites of hotels and motels.

Use travel comparison sites to compare prices and offers.

Contact accommodations directly to inquire about exclusive deals.

10. Trust Your Instincts

After gathering all the necessary information, trust your instincts. Choose a place that feels right for your needs and aligns with your travel goals.

Final Tip:

If you’re still unsure, start by narrowing your options to a few top contenders. Then, make your final choice based on factors like location, amenities, and pricing.

Spotlight: Top Accommodations in Cherokee, IA

Hotels in Cherokee IA

Offer a balance of comfort and affordability, with amenities like complimentary breakfast, fitness centers, and Wi-Fi.

Located near major attractions, making them ideal for both leisure and business travelers.

Motels in Cherokee IA

Perfect for budget-conscious travelers or those passing through.

Known for their clean rooms, friendly service, and convenient locations.

Hotels Near Cherokee Iowa

For those willing to stay a short drive away, nearby towns offer additional options with unique features.

Plan Your Stay in Cherokee, IA

Whether you're seeking a cozy motel or a full-service hotel, Cherokee has something for everyone. By considering your budget, location, and personal preferences, you’ll be well on your way to selecting the perfect accommodation for your 2025 trip.

With its friendly community, rich history, and scenic surroundings, Cherokee Iowa, promises a memorable experience. By choosing the right place to stay, you can focus on exploring everything this charming destination has to offer.

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