#a few weeks ago my friend read thus spoke zarathustra by the fire to the music she was dancing it was her silhouette

[faaun]

we sang in the aeroplane over the sea tgth ☆

[sylvanfreckles]

Nice Day for a...Wait for It (3 of 5)

(For Alt. 13: Crutches)

Fandom: Supernatural Rating: G General Warning: chronic illness, internalized ableism, disability, violence

Summary: Sam and Eileen's wedding is just a few days away, and Dean and Castiel join them for some relaxation at the hotel before the ceremony. But Winchester Luck strikes again, and they find themselves at the center of disaster as secrets are uncovered. Cas has gotten stronger since the ritual that tore his grace away and left him human, but will it be enough when he's targeted by a malevolent spirit? (Read on AO3)

...

"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."

(Thus Spoke Zarathustra - Frederick Nietzsche)

...

Sam trailed Eileen into the antique store and was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer number of knickknacks and furniture crammed into the tiny space. There was an entire wall of clocks, for one thing, and he vowed to be out before the top of the hour when they’d all start to chime.

“Oh, hello!” A gray-haired, matronly woman waved to them from the counter. “Good to see you back, my dear. Did you come for that little table?”

Eileen hooked an arm through Sam’s and pulled him forward. “Still talking him into it.”

Sam tried to smile, but the spirit that had attacked Dean and Cas the night before was weighing heavily on his mind. “I actually came to ask you about something else.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, by all means, ask away. You were right, he’s a cutie!” She added the last part in a loud stage whisper to Eileen, making her laugh and Sam fidget with embarrassment. “Now, what were you wanting?”

“Our friend, he was in here with my fiancée yesterday? He bought a Christmas ornament?”

“Yes, the darling man in the wheelchair. He was a cutie, too, you can’t keep them all to yourself, girl.”

Sam gave an awkward smile as the woman addressed Eileen again. “It’s just, it’s a lot like the ornaments my mother collected,” he interjected, pulling the woman’s focus back on him. “We lost them all in a house fire when I was a child, and I was hoping you might have a few more?”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” The woman shook her head. “No, that was the only one left. They were all from an estate sale about a month ago, I barely had them in the store before someone snatched the whole lot up. Well, except the one your friend bought. I didn’t find him until last week, and I was just thinking I should contact the other buyer to see if she wanted mister mushroom.”

“I see.” Sam feigned a disappointed expression and turned as if to leave the shop. “I don’t suppose…can you tell me who bought them? It’s just that it would be such a nice surprise for my mother.”

The woman hesitated, though only for a moment. “Oh, I just can’t say no to you. Don’t think it’d do any harm…it was Emily. Emily Townsend.”

“Townsend?” The name sounded familiar, but Sam couldn’t quite place it.

“Yes, she runs the River Oaks Hotel, down on second street. Always puts up a big Christmas display every year, right after Halloween. She bought every last ornament, except the one your friend found yesterday.”

Sam shared an alarmed look with Eileen, then thanked the woman and hurried out of the store to where Dean was waiting with the Impala.

…

This was ridiculous.

While the others had gone to interview the woman at the antique store, Castiel had been left at the hotel with strict instructions (from Dean) to stay in bed and wait for their return. Dean had left him with a salt ring around the bed, and a crowbar and sawed-off shotgun close at hand in case the spirit returned.

Which it wouldn’t. It had obviously been connected to the mushroom ornament, and they had destroyed all remnants of that as soon as Dean had been able to get out to his car for more supplies. Dean was just being overprotective, as usual.

Cas swung his legs over the edge of the bed and picked up his crutches, which had been leaning against the wall. He was doing no good sitting here when he could at least be exploring the hotel. Even though he was human now, there was still a chance he could pick up on things that the Winchesters missed. He slipped his phone in his pocket, the ringer left on silent, and limped his way out of the door into the hallway beyond.

It was late morning, so the hotel was fairly busy. He kept as close to the wall as he could, not wanting to get in the way of guests and staff, and picked his way in the opposite direction of the lobby.

The River Oaks Hotel was only two stories tall, with an elevator in the central corridor. Cas avoided the elevator and chose to follow the cross-corridor down to its end. There was an external door that led out to the parking lot, and doors for a conference room and business center.

He shuffled back when the business center door swung open, and one of the hotel staff came out with a garbage bag in her arms. “I think there’s more toner in the basement,” she called over her shoulder.

“Yuck.” Another staff member followed her, lugging a vacuum cleaner and caddy of supplies. “I hate going down there, it’s so creepy with all that crap Emily keeps buying.”

Cas watched them go, interested in their conversation. Sam and Dean hadn’t mentioned anything about the basement. He slowly followed the hotel staff toward the lobby, trying to look like he was just getting some exercise and not paying too much attention to them. Luckily, the crutches seemed to make him almost invisible to the people around him, for all he felt like he stood out more. Like people took one look at him and dismissed him as beneath their notice.

It was even worse in the wheelchair, but Dean didn’t understand that. He didn’t understand the feeling of countless eyes judging and weighing you and finding you lesser.

They went through a door marked for hotel staff only, and Castiel shuffled over to a display of tourist brochures where he could keep an eye on the door but not stand out too much. He didn’t have to wait long until they came out again, both pushing large housekeeping carts.

He waited until the hall was empty, then made his way through the door to the staff only area. Immediately, something felt wrong. The hair on his arms stood on end and a headache pricked at the edges of his eyes. The staff area was just a modest set of lockers on one side and a collection of housekeeping supplies on the other, with a passageway at the back leading to the hotel’s industrial washing machines.

There was an unmarked wooden door next to the washing machines, and when Cas pushed it open he found a set of uneven stairs leading down below the hotel. He could see a few rows of wire shelving piled high with storage containers, from sagging cardboard boxes to brightly colored plastic totes.

He stared down the stairs for a long moment. He could make it down them and explore the basement. Might even find the source of the haunting. But he was unprepared for such a task and, truth be told, his legs were starting to ache from walking up and down the hall. At least he had a lead now. He had proven himself useful in this case, despite his physical limitations.  

Cas started to turn to make his way out of the staff room when something grabbed at the bottom of his crutch and yanked it sideways, into the basement. He released it with a surprised grunt and clung to the doorknob for support, the other crutch clattering down after its mate. His skin was crawling now, and the pain in his head had spread down to his neck and shoulders.

His legs gave out, and he dropped to his hands and knees to crawl away from the basement door. Pressure was rising in his ears, like it had in the room last night. Suddenly, the overhead lights exploded, raining glass and sparks down in the darkened room. Cas curled up with his arms over his head for protection, only to feel something latch onto his foot and pull him toward the basement.

Scrabbling for a handhold, he managed to catch the rickety banister at the top of the staircase. It creaked and groaned under his weight as Castiel fought to pull himself up.

The wood gave with a snap, and he hurtled down the stairs into the silence of the basement, landing painfully on his side on a large crate. Pain flared up his side, his chest suddenly almost too tight to breathe. His entire body ached from numerous impacts, and he let himself slide to the floor with a moan of pain.

One of his crutches was nearby. Cas managed to push himself to one hand, though he nearly collapsed back down as his ribs protested the movement.

He crawled. Inch by painful inch. His fingers brushed the smooth aluminum, and he tugged the crutch closer. The basement was barely lit by a single overhead lamp, and he stared around the shadows until he located the other crutch closer to the stairs.

Cas let out a huff of exhaustion, though that tore at his chest and he had to stop moving until the pain receded a little.

It was then that he heard it. A deep, ominous creaking.

He looked up in time to see the wire shelves swaying back and forth, before an unseen force sent them crashing down on him.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 4) (Part 5)