A cracking sound resonated through the air and whether it was the wall or Castiel's back as he collided with the drywall, was anyone's guess.

"Cas!" Dean's concern followed the sound, his jaw set firmly as the Spector turned his attention to him. Cas's groans mingling with the low, unearthly growl that emanated from the creature's mouth. Dean squatted, retrieving the iron bar from the duffle bag you had dropped in the corner when you and Cas had stepped in, "Come on you son of a bitch," Dean egged him on, tightening his grasp on the iron, quickly warming under his heated hold. The ghost only glared at him, stepping calmly in his direction and vanishing before Dean could finish his swing. The hairs on the back of Dean's neck suddenly stood to attention, the cold spreading across his back with the spector's presence and closing around his throat like snakes made of ice as he was lifted off of the ground. He gasped, finding no air to relieve his panic. Suddenly, the grip loosened, dropping Dean limply to the floor. Cas stood behind him, blood dripping from his jaw and running down his back from the cuts and bruises below the back of his neck, the iron bar in one hand and the other extending to help Dean back up to his feet. The hazy lights flickered overhead, revealing the old man on the other side of the room, a murderous gaze somehow fixed in his vacant eyes.

"Shit," you groaned as your shoulder hit the wall, failing to stop your sprint in time before you turned and bolted up the next flight of stairs, eyes trained on the woman in front of you. Your lungs hinted at the first spark of a fire, as you continued to run. For an older woman, she was really fucking fast, you thought, cursing to yourself. Up the two of you went, passing flight after flight until she finally busted through the door and into the halls of the hotel, just one story short of the roof, with you directly on her heels. Her curled hair, loosened from running, was the last thing you saw before she disappeared into a room at the end of the hall, not bothering to shut the door, allowing you to slip in behind her. The room clearly functioned, or once functioned, as an office, with a wooden desk covered with a mountain of papers stood to the right, a simple couch to the left, and a large window across the back cracked slightly, the wind swirling a few papers around in the air. Marie stood, her curls tousled and fallen, and her smeared lips, combined with her pointed eyes giving her a manic appearance. She stood just to the side of the window, the stream of air softly moving the smaller strands of hair about her face.

"You don't understand," the words left her lips as a plea, but her smirk betrayed the intent behind them.

"You're right I don't. Why do this?" you prompted her, lifting your gun firmly in her direction.

"My husband was going to leave me," Marie's voice cracked and trailed off. You could see the gears in her head turning as she internally collected herself, " I couldn't let him and I couldn't risk the maid leaving either after it was over. Besides, what's a few strangers' lives for control?" Marie slipped a hand inside her jacket and plucked out the pocket watch. Her eyes gazed at it in turmoil, before moving them back up to you.

"So that's why everyone keep disappearing?" You weren't so much questioning as reasoning out loud, "Old magick requires new blood."

"New souls," She clarified and your grip unconsciously tightened around the weapon, "You don't know that it's like," the stoicness had left her voice, replaced with a genuine sorrow, laced in the cracks and gruffness of her words, as if each one was painfully pulled from her throat, "You don't know what it's like to be in love with someone and them no longer love you back." You swallowed, tightening your jaw as the words met your ears. Marie smiled sadly as her hand pushed open the large window pane, the sun's rays cascading onto the dark carpet. The only sound for a brief moment was the rustling of papers as the wind picked them up from the desk. Marie stepped up onto the window sill and looked out to the world below.

"Hey!" you scolded, slight panic in your tone, "you don't need to jump." Your entire body tensed but she only looked back at you with a mocking expression, lifting the watch and turning a silver nob.

"Oh," her shrill voice let out in mock surprise, "It isn't for me."

"Dean," The gravelly tone caught the other man's attention as Cas nodded to the duffle bag. The ghost flickered back into existence with its hallowed gaze set on Cas. He gripped his angel blade tightly, his jaw was stiff and the blood had long since dried, mating parts of his charcoal hair to his skin. Dean watched the specter closing in on the angel out of the corner of his eye, making his way to the opened bag on the floor. Most of the weapons were on their persons or thrown somewhere about the room but a large canister of salt was still tucked away within the black fabric. His hand closed around it but his eyes snapped back up to Castiel, a loud growl emanating from his direction. The ghost has apparently thrown him, or shoved him a few feet away and was closing in slowly to Cas's position on the floor. Quickly, He poured the salt into a large semi-circle behind himself.

"Hey," Dean called but the specter remained fixed on Cas, "Hey ghosty!" He yelled again and this time the creature turned, "Yeah, that's right, come on fugly!" The ghost had apparently changed targets and stalked up to Dean. The wrinkles near his eyes and across his forehead sagged more than usual and the eyes that fixed on Dean gave the appearance that he was looking into death itself—well, maybe he was essentially. He squatted, setting the salt by his feet and sliding it with one boot. The canister slid between the ghost's legs and into the waiting hands of Castiel who finished the circle. With a satisfied smile, Dean stepped out of the salt barrier, leaving the specter within its cage.

"That should hold him," Cas observed but the ghost suddenly forgot their existence, turning its attention frantically to the back of the room as if it was looking for something. It sprang forward, only to hit the invisible barrier. Again, it tried to no avail. The Spector turned to them, his face contorted with rage as it let out a blood-curdling screech, both of them reaching up to secure their hands over their ears.

The faded rumbles of a scream flouted to your ears but no ghost appeared. Your previously lowered gun lifted again and trained on Marie. Her expression fell from smug satisfaction to confusion and then to pure panic without a fraction of a second.

"I don't understand," The words left her lips as a mumble, meant for herself alone. You waited, hardly breathing, watching her look out to the sunny world outside of the window. Her gaze slowly returned to your direction, before suddenly snapping up to somewhere over your shoulder. Turning, you saw the maid in the doorway, an oddly soft expression juxtaposed with the dried blood on her left hand and across the collar of her uniform. Whose blood was that? The question rattled painfully in your brain. Before she could step forward you squeezed the trigger, a muffled groan escaping Marie's mouth as the bullet sunk into her chest, followed by a shattering clang of the pocket watch on the floor. The maid screamed, watching Marie fall back through the window, the sun's rays illuminating her for a moment before she disappeared from view. The maid vanished before your eyes and you ran to the window, looking down to the blurry black and white uniform, hovering over Marie's form.

You nodded at Dean and Cas, sighing and glaring at the ghost out of the corner of your eye as you passed him, making your way to the duffle bag slung over Dean's shoulder. You fished out the lighter turning to look for a trash can but Cas already had one extended to you.

"Thanks," you tossed the watch in and set it on the ground, ignoring the growls emanating from the Spector. Tearing a square of paper from the notepad on the table, you set it on fire and dropped it into the trash can. Slowly the flames licked over it. It was a small flame to a metal object so it wouldn't turn to ash anytime soon but the deterioration should be enough, you hoped. Soon enough, the ghost let out a final ear-splitting noise and went up in flames as well, "I'll let this burn a little longer and we can come back for it. We need to find Lucifer and Sammy." The two of them nodded in agreement, following you out of the room and into the lobby.

"Sammy," Dean yelled. Everyone was silent, waiting for a hint of a response but nothing came.

"Luce," you tried, moving down to the first hallway that leads to the rooms, "There are several floors but we didn't see anything unusual when we were searching, unless She put them in one of the rooms," you reasoned, speaking to Castiel beside you.

"It would be a good way to hide them but she seemed fairly organized. She would most likely have a system in place," He didn't look at you as he spoke, instead, peering around the hallway with a furrowed brow.

"I guess we're going down then," Dean walked up behind the two of you, having found nothing in and around the lobby, "Every haunted hotel has to have a creepy ass basement right?" Dean didn't wait for an answer but started off down the hall to find the staircase. To reach the basement you had to go down a flight of stairs, down a cement hall, and down another flight of stairs. Dried blood marked the hall and spotted the second flight of stairs, making your breath hitch in your throat and your chest tighten painfully. Finally, the three of you reached an open space, dark, cold, and weirdly humid, with a door to the far left.

"Luce, Sammy," you called, half yelling and half whispering. A mingling of muffled sounds came from behind the door, springing all three of you into action. Luckily, it wasn't locked and the door opened with ease, revealing Sam and Lucifer in the center, secured to chairs with gags in their mouths. Dean and Cas sprung to Sam and you to Lucifer, taking your knife out and cutting through the robes, as well as, untying the cloth around his mouth.

"Ahh," Lucifer groaned, rubbing the marks on his wrists in annoyance.

"Are you both alright?" Castiel questioned and you looked up to see Sam standing beside them.

"Fine," Lucifer grumbled shortly, as you looked him over carefully, eyes flashing with worry.

"Someone knocked us out and we woke up in here with that maid. She didn't touch us except when she re-gagged us cause Lucifer wouldn't shut up," Sam explained contempt in this tone, making Lucifer scoff.

"She did kidnap us," He justified his actions softly, touching a finger to the wound on his head.

"You're lucky she didn't cut out your tongue."

The five of you found yourselves in the bunker a few hours later, exhausted, bloody, and sore. Sam had disappeared to the bathroom to fix up his head, Lucifer had gone back to his room immediately after getting there, and Dean carefully tended to the cut on the back of Castiel's neck. You grabbed a handful of supplies that he wasn't using and made your way down the hall to Lucifer's room, knocking softly.

"Hey, it's me. Can I come in," there was a pause before the door opened with a slow movement. He stared down at you, curious but almost angry in his expression. You simply held up the supplies, "Thought I could help if you don't mind." He stopped again, debating, and then opened the door further so that you could enter. Lucifer sat on the bed and you moved in next to him, angling yourself towards him so that you could access his head better. He hissed slightly as you dabbed an anti-bacterial wipe across the wound.

"Careful," he hissed again, earning a glare from you. When it was finally clean, you added some ointment and took one of his hands into your own, rubbing a little on his robe burns as well.

"Luce, I'm sorry," you began, not moving your eyes from your task, "When I got back from the Djinn's world I didn't know which way was up and which way was down. I was hard to trust the ground under my feet and It was harder to know what was really around you. But, I shouldn't have blanked you like that and I'm sorry," You glanced up at his face, taking in the unreadable expression plastered across his face as you finished the other wrist and moved to leave.

"What did I do to you there?" Lucifer's voice made you stop, hand on the door handle but not twisting, instead, you turned back around to face him.

"What do you mean?"

"Sam said I was there with you, keeping you there, your nightmare," The last two words sounded almost strangled.

"Luce, that's not what happened."

"No, I suppose it makes sense that I would be your torture, after all, you do know the devil himself," Lucifer's words were now bitter and cold. You sighed and resumed your spot next to him on the bed, to his surprise.

"I woke up in the bunker and I thought everything was normal. I went to the kitchen and you came in there and," you stopped, inhaling sharply before continuing, "and you kissed me. Apparently, we were together, hell everyone was paired up somehow. Dean and Cas had finally gotten over themselves and Sam was dating Gabe," you chuckled slightly at that, daring to look up at him for a moment. He was watching you, posture tense but still intent on hearing what you had to say, "I knew something was off but I stayed regardless. Eventually, I realized it was a Djinn and I woke up again, this time in a warehouse but it was just another trick. I knew it wasn't real because I didn't have these," you lifted your shirt slightly to show him the jagged marks across your stomach, "Sam found me later in that world. I guess he heard that version of you begging me to stay there because it was the only version of the world where you loved me. I never thought you were a monster Luce, I never will." There was silence for a second and you couldn't look at him, instead, you pushed yourself up off the bed.

"Why didn't you stay," He finally spoke and you looked down on him, locking your (E/C) eyes with his icy blue ones.

"Because I knew it wasn't real. It was a cultivating illusion so that some monster could drain the life out of me. This world isn't all rainbows and sunshine but it's where I'm needed." Lucifer nodded and stood. He was very close to you but he didn't move. A cold hand found your chin, lifting your head up to him and connecting his lips to yours in one motion. Surprised, you pulled away.

"Don't," you pleaded, "I said I was sorry. Don't fuck with me like that Luce." You glared at him angrily and he sat back down on the edge of his bed.

"They were taking forever and I was terrified those jackasses were going to finally get to you and find you dead in warehouse. If I still had my grace that thing wouldn't have gotten you in the first place."

"Luce," you whispered but he continued.

"I thought I had tortured you. I thought you hated me and you were the only person who ever treated me as an angel, as a friend." He looked down at the floor and you stared at him. He cared about you? A tear fell from your eye and you watched drops hit the floor between his feet, from his own tears.

"I don't hate you," more tears fell as you closed the distance between the two of you, stopping just in front of him and resting a hand lightly on the back of his head. Lucifer looked up at you with your touch, eyes red. He was always very cold, even when he was joking or in pain. You had never seen him like this but he didn't seem to care for once.

"He's wrong," Lucifer finally spoke, taking your hand from his head and holding it with his own.

"Who's wrong?"

"That world is not the only version where I love you," He stood, allowing you to step back from him, but you still kept your hand in his, "Look," He brought your hand to your stomach and you slipped it beneath the fabric, your fingers running along the scarred skin. This was real, your mind rang out, "Can I kiss you?" He asked, not moving any closer until you finally nodded.

"Yes," you whispered as his cold lips collided with your own, tenderly, lovingly. His hand still rested over yours against the scars, reminding you as his lips worked in tandem with your own—This was something real.