We know that Johnny and Roy share a hotel room in it... But also, here's the right side of the bed: Nightstand, with a lamp and a phone.
And here's the left side of the bed:
With a nightstand, a lamp and an alarm clock.
Which is generally the setup you'd find with a double bed placed in the middle of the room, not some flavor of two weirdly wide single beds. And, again, they're sharing that room.
Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.
Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency i take.
You three didn’t find the witch before the next murder. Dewey Stevens died in a construction area late last night, nailed to one of the port-a-potty doors. Nailed by a nail gun… with no one around. There is some witchcraft going on around here, and you need to find the witch before he or she hurt another person. If not, then what kind of witch are you?
You three enter the construction site and show off your badges to the head officer. Sam heads into the trailer used for their office, and you and Dean go over to the place where Dewey died. There is another officer posted right outside, so you go talk to him.
“So, what do we know about the victim?” you ask him, Joanna swaddled to your chest.
When you get closer to the bathroom, you get the same feeling you got when you got closer to the hair machine in the salon. There is another coin somewhere here, you can feel it.
“Dewey Stevens, the owner of Dewey Stevens Construction, which is one of the biggest outfit in town. Rotarian, Methodist, tenor, blue-ribbon pecan pie champ, and asthmatic.” You and Dean stare at him weirdly. “We're a close-knit community.”
“So, he was going to the bathroom before he died?” you ask.
“The crew had gone for the day. The site was shut down.”
You look inside the portable bathroom and uncover Dewey’s body. He was nailed in the eyes, but you look around outside to notice there isn’t a generator anywhere near. If that was the case last night, then how did it turn on? There is a coin somewhere here, you just have to find it.
“Anything unusual besides the nails in the eyes?” Dean asks when he sees the body.
“Well, we're still trying to figure out where they plugged in the nail gun, seeing as there's no generator on the truck.”
You reach around behind Dewey and lift his jacket to reveal the same coin you found at the salon. You show the coin to Dean after getting up and away from the portable bathroom. You and Dean excuse yourself to talk about the coin away from prying ears.
“Same witch.”
“Why can’t you find the witch?” he asks, clearly irritated.
“Why can’t you stop drinking?” you bite back. You and Dean hold an intense staring contest before you ultimately break. “It doesn’t work that way, Dean. They are very old, so they know how to hide well. Use your head unless all that alcohol is killing off your brain cells one by one.”
You stomp away from Dean and head into the trailer to meet with Sam who is on a laptop to find more information on the guy. Dean follows in behind you seconds later, but the atmosphere isn’t friendly. If Sam can feel it, he makes no move to show that he does.
“Do you got any ideas?” you ask him.
“Cirque du Soleil?” he jokes.
“I found another coin. It’s the same exact one as the one I found in the salon.”
You toss the coin to Sam so he can check it out.
“I found a connection with all the vics. These e-mail logs show Wendy, the real-estate chick, Carl, the architect, and this Dewey guy were all working on a shopping center project together.”
“Why didn’t we know about that?”
“Well, it all fell apart for some reason. I mean, there are these e-mails back and forth, pretty hot and heavy, and suddenly they just stopped.”
“So, everybody working on this project has died?” Dean asks.
“Well, not yet. Um, they were working with a developer, a guy named Don Stark.”
“Don Stark? Why do I know that name?”
Don Stark is apparently pretty big in the community, so much so that he has a bust right outside the community center to showcase just how much he is loved. Right on the bottom of his bust is a placard that reads “Don Stark Founder of the Prosperity Charity Foundation”. You stare at the bust in confusion, concern, and a little bit of disgust. You’re all for someone helping out the community, but there is something about this man that doesn’t sit right with you… like he could be the witch.
The community center is covered with posters about an art auction that will be going on soon run by Margaret Stark who no doubt might be Don’s wife. It’s either she doesn’t know her husband is a witch, or that they are both witches.
“Man, this Stark guy is really the shit, huh?” Sam comments.
“So, all the players in this shopping-center project have either fried, boiled, or kebabbed. He could be next.”
Dean takes out his flask and unscrews the lid. You and Sam stare at him, both with very different expressions.
“Really? From a fucking flask? What are you, bad Santa? On the job?” Sam scoffs.
“We’re always on the job,” Dean rolls his eyes.
Sam’s phone beeps and he checks the email that just popped up on his phone.
“Alright, Bobby e-mailed back. I sent him a few pics of--”
“Wait, I’m sorry Sam,” you cut him off and turn to Dean with the same glare as before. “Until you can put on your big boy pants and deal with your feelings like a normal fucking person, Joanna and I are going to be staying in a separate room for the remainder of the case. Either grow up and talk to us, or you’re not fit to be her parent.”
“You don’t get to make that choice,” Dean glares.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I fucking do,” you say and look at the flask in his hands. “And I’d like to see you try and stop me.”
“Guys, can we get back on track?” Sam sighs, not liking where this is going. “As I was saying, I sent him a few pictures of the coins you found. He says the writing is Romanian Cyrillic, used only in the mid-15th to the 19th century. Apparently, it's an antique Wallachian ducat.”
“So, we’re looking for an old Romanian?” Dean asks, not taking his eyes off you.
“You know, is it just me, or is this really weird?” Sam points out the dead plants all around Don’s bust.
“There have been places with a bunch of dead plants,” you say and break eye contact to look at Sam. “A bus bench that had Wendy’s face on it. Plantlife doesn’t do that, so either Don is the witch, his wife is the witch, or they both or witches.”
You leave the group with Joanna in your arms and head back to the car.
“She’s right, you know,” Sam whispers to Dean.
“Shut up,” Dean says, a bit more forceful than he wanted to sound.
You three head over to Don’s place, and luckily, he is home but not his wife. The closer you get to the house, the stronger the energy is. A witch definitely lives in this house, and you’re going to figure out who exactly it is. When Don greets you three at the door, he is more than happy to let you in to talk about whatever it is you want to talk about. His house is nice, but it seems like it’s hiding a dark secret behind its walls.
The only thing that bothers you is that if Don is the witch, then he knows you’re one too
“If the bureau's involved, I assume you think all three were murdered.”
“It’s looking that way, yes,” Dean confirms.
“Now, Mr. Stark, you had a relationship with all three victims, correct?”
“Oh, I knew them in business circles, I guess.”
“You were all involved in a shopping-center project? Why'd that fall through?” you ask.
“Uh, t-these things happen,” he stutters. Suddenly, a young blonde woman appears in the doorway, and she knocks on the frame with a smile. “Oh, Jenny. These gentlemen and lady are from the FBI. Jenny Klein, my assistant.”
“Hi, there,” Jenny smiles widely at you. “Okay, Don, I'm off to the cleaner's, and then I'm gonna stop at Beaman for the revised contracts.”
“Hurry on back. You know how things fall apart without you.”
“Oh, I baked you some cupcakes--coconut,” she grins and hands a box of them to him.
“You're too good to me, Jenny.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
Jenny leaves, and you, Dean, and Sam all look at Don with a weird look.
“She bakes cupcakes,” he shrugs.
“Where is your bathroom? I just have to check my daughter’s diaper,” you make an excuse to get away.
“Of course. Around the corner and down the hall.”
“Thank you,” you chuckle.
You quickly leave the area as if you’re actually going to the fucking bathroom. Instead of going down the hall, you stop at the staircase that leads upstairs. You make sure you’re quiet as hell, and you use your magic to point you in the right direction. You’re only going to get this one chance to snoop through their things, so you better make it count. At first, it seems like an ordinary bedroom, but once you open the closet, you notice something weird.
First, only Don’s things are there--Margaret’s things are nowhere to be found. Second, there is a shoe without its heel. You go to pick it up, but it doesn’t budge. Instead, you slide it to the right, and it uncovers a secret hideout where a lot of bad magic resides. A necklace with a five-pointed star pendant, a box containing witchcraft materials such as hex tokens, and papers with strange symbols on it. Since this is the master bedroom, you’re still not sure who is the witch--Don or Margaret. Though, you know it has to be one of them.
“Come on, baby, before we get spotted,” you whisper to your daughter.
You head back downstairs and rush back to the room where the men are. Don has his back turned to you, but when he turns around, he stares at you like he knows your secret. Maybe he is the witch, and if he is, then you’re screwed.
“...but in the end, everyone here respects and admires me,” Don finishes with whatever he is talking about.
“Including your wife?” you butt in. “Sorry. It's just, we heard the two of you were splitting up, right?”
“Yeah, that's, uh--that's what we heard,” Dean says, clearing his throat.
“Yeah, Maggie and I are going through a tough time. It's a separation--temporary. Sometimes, you know, you grow apart. It's no one's fault.”
“How would you describe the issues between you and your wife?”
“It’s just one of those marital misunderstandings, you know.”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t,” you shake your head even though you really fucking do.
“It's one of those vague, hard-to-define passages.”
“She caught you cheating, huh?” Dean asks suddenly. “I couldn't help but notice, uh, things were kind of cordial between you and your assistant. Pretty good with the ladies there, Mr. Stark? It's a blessing and a curse, isn't it?”
“Guys, I'm a people person, and I admire dynamic, confident women.”
“Admire?” you wonder.
“Okay, look, it's true I had a recent... little thing with a business associate, but that's all it was.”
“A thing?”
“Yeah.”
“No, see, Don, uh, wives generally think of an affair as something more than a thing,” you say.
“Yes, and when Maggie found out about it, she needed some time off, temporarily.”
“If I put all your money on Wendy Goodman being that business associate, I’d walk out of here a millionaire, is that right?”
“No, her death had nothing to do with the affair. It was over long before her accident.”
“If it was an accident.”
“You're not implying that Maggie was behind this.”
“No, we're not implying anything. We're just saying... you should be careful, and take her to dinner and apologize,” you state.
You really don’t want to be in this house a bit longer, so you try and make your escape. Don clearly doesn’t want to talk about this any more than he wants to, so it’s easy enough to leave. Once outside, you notice all the plants in front of Don’s house are dying.
“You know, I’d be able to kill the witch if I knew which one it was. That house reeks so bad, I can easily confuse the non-witch as the witch,” you point out. “More to the point, I found a shit ton of hex junk in his closet. Maggie’s stuff is all cleared out.”
“So, Don admires Wendy, Wendy dies weird, and the scorned wife is into the dark stuff.”
“While Don’s just in the dark,” Sam sighs.
“Don might also be the witch,” you reveal.
“Two witches?”
“I’m just telling you how I feel, okay? My magic is never wrong.”
“Look at all these dead plants,” Sam points out.
“It's kind of like the real-estate lady's place and Don's statue thing.”
“You know, if she's strong enough, just being pissed off is enough to send some pretty bad vibes their way.”
“We need to check out Maggie’s place. I know we’re bound to find something there. Especially if they just got a divorce, so she wouldn’t have time to hide her hex shit yet.”
“I’ll call Bobby and have him whip us up something that might be able to help us here,” Den declares.
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JON SNOW & DAENERYS TARGARYEN
“He’d like to keep looking at her, and forget about the world events weighing on his soul. He has truly never seen a girl like this before. Her beauty, her strength, her grief and the pain it makes him feel... they all push him to the realization that he loves her.” — (for @ktwrites)
