Dean and Sam Winchester do not belong to me in any shape or form. I am merely using them for my own entertainment purposes.
Here's the next chapter. Sorry for the lateness in getting it to you. Life has been hectic at the moment and juggling so many stories can be a challenge to say the least!
Dean thought his life before Elliots was complicated but now that he's been left the bookshop he can see that he didn't know what complicated meant. Not only does he have to deal with a shop which appears to be alive but he also has to deal with a bunch of crazy customers on a daily basis. Add on that the crush he has on Castiel the tenant from upstairs and he's in a whole heap of trouble. He only has to last a year though, he can do that? Right?
Things just get stranger and stranger
Castiel Novak / Dean Winchester and Gabriel Novak / Sam Winchester
None so far…
Making a start
Day Two part one
Dean smacked his hand against the beeping alarm clock to the side of him, briefly contemplating whether it was worth throwing the damn thing against the wall to shut it up. He couldn't remember turning it on the night before but then again he had been shattered by the time Sam had dropped him home from their parents' house. Time had flown and their father had insisted they watch the big game together and spend some quality Winchester male time together. Dean didn't mind, especially when his mother had provided him with a massive slice of apple pie fresh out of the oven.
Wednesday evenings were easily the happiest he felt each week.
He had planned on sleeping in before he headed over to Elliots later on in the day to begin checking the place out but that plan was clearly out of the window now.
So much for enjoying his one day off from the garage where he currently worked.
Dean groaned out loud, rolling onto his back and lifting his hand to rub awkwardly at his still tired eyes, he tilted his head to the side on the pillow, frowning when he saw that it was still only seven in the morning. He should have just ripped the clock out of the wall and turned over and tried to go back to sleep but he already knew it was useless. Dean had always been a heavy sleeper but the minute his eyes opened then that was it, any further attempt to sleep always failed, leaving him tossing and turning awkwardly in the bed instead.
Sighing out loud, Dean smacked his hand against the mattress in frustration before he forced him self into a sitting position, yawning widely as he glanced around the dark room. He kicked off the warm duvet, shivering when his bare skin was exposed to the chilly air before he shuffled to the edge of the bed and pushed him self into a standing position and raising his arms above his head as he stretched.
He was going to have to speak to his tenant today and introduce him self to him and let him know what had happened to Gladys if he didn't already know. He would have to have Sam draw up a new agreement with him, perhaps Gladys had some records of the guy's name and the arrangement they had shared back at Elliots. The last thing Dean wanted to do was bang on the door of some random stranger's door with no information to back him up, even if it was only the guy's name he knew it would still be better then nothing.
It didn't take long for Dean to shower and dress in some old casual clothes which he didn't mind getting damaged; they were already splattered with paint so a little more wasn't going to matter. He grabbed a quick bowl of cereal and mug of coffee which he demolished before snatching the keys to his car from the side and leaving his warm apartment bundled up in several layers and grabbing his rucksack. He locked the front door behind him and took the stairs, glaring at the out of order sign stuck on the lift door.
He hissed as he exited the apartment building, hunching his shoulders up against the cold breeze and jogged across the car park to the spot where his impala was parked. A grin came to his face when he reached it, gently running his hand over the roof before he patted the cool metal fondly, murmuring a soft greeting to it.
The impala had been a gift from his parents when he had passed his driving test, it had been a complete and utter wreck when he had received it, barely even road worthy but Dean had loved it instantly, seeing the potential in the machine straight away. He had spent all of his free time rebuilding it from scratch, using junk from Bobby Singer's salvage yard until the heap it had been was completely gone, replaced with a sleek beautiful car which attracted attention wherever it went. There was no possession which Dean owned which he loved more then his car and he doubted there ever would be.
Unlocking the driver's door, Dean climbed in, sticking the key into the ignition and pulling the door to behind him, cutting out the cold icy air. He rubbed his bare hands together in an attempt to get some circulation back into his frozen fingers. He was seriously going to have to accept that the weather was going to remain cold and shit and get him self a pair of gloves before he ended up suffered from frost bite. He peered through the windscreen at the heavy grey sky and sighed wondering whether they were going to have snow again. Pushing the thought from his mind, he turned the key, closing his eyes briefly as a smile came to his face at the healthy purring sound the impala made.
He slipped in a cassette tape and headed out of the apartment car park onto the main road which was still deserted. Elliots was only ten minutes away from where he lived, he probably could have walked it but it was too cold for that in his mind.
He sang along to Metallica, fingers tapping against the steering wheel in time to the drum beat before he pulled up outside of the shop and killed the engine. He didn't linger in the interior, instead exiting the car, locking it as he hurried around the back of the car to the shop entrance. He pulled the key from his coat pocket, glancing up at the sign as he turned the key and entered the shop, closing the door behind him and locking it.
He slipped the key back into his pocket and glanced around him, his eyebrow rising in surprise. The place looked cleaner then it had the previous day, most of the books which had been left flung about the room had been tidied up and clearly restacked on the shelves. Only one or two remained out on the table space.
Shaking his head Dean walked out the back towards the kitchen.
He was going to have to call a locksmith in and get the locks for the shop changed, clearly someone was touching the books, and they couldn't just put themselves away.
All he wanted right now was a cup of strong coffee; everything else could wait until he had one of those in his system.
He followed the same route as he had done the previous day, pushing the door opened and entering the large clean room. The first thing that struck him was how warm the kitchen was, heating up his cool skin in a pleasant fashion. The second was the fact that something in that kitchen smelt damn good making his stomach rumble as his mouth began to water.
Dean froze in the doorway, a frown coming to his face as he looked around him. How the hell could something smell so damn good when no one had been in the kitchen? Dean had only glanced in it briefly the day before and he hadn't touched something but clearly someone had.
He walked into the room, heading over to the large oak table which had been shoved to the side of the room. He absently took off his coat and scarf, dumping them over the back of one of the chairs, his attention fixed on the plate of fresh looking oatmeal cookies which had been left abandoned on the table. Dean glanced around the room with a sense of unease before he lent towards the plate and sniffed cautiously at the cookies. They were definitely the things which were producing the smell.
Dean had always been a complete and utter sucker for any sort of cookies though his favourites had always been the oatmeal cookies which his mum would make every weekend without fail. Given the choice he could and would have demolished the entire plate of them but he stopped him self instead placing the plate back on the table.
He had absolutely no idea who had made the cookies and until he did then there would be no way in hell that he would touch them with a barge pole, he had seen enough episodes of CSI to know that you didn't touch anything which just happened to appear out of the blue. Something was clearly going on in this shop and Dean was going to get to the bottom of it
Top of his list to do that day was definitely calling in the locksmith.
Shaking his head and ignoring his increased feeling of unease and curiosity, Dean turned his back on the cookies and headed across the room towards the coffee machine. He rubbed his hands together before he flicked the switch on at the plug. He glanced around him before reaching up and opening the cupboard above it, a grin coming to his face when he saw the fresh unopened bag of coffee beans sat in there as though they had been waiting for him to come. He grabbed them, opening them and poured the necessary amount into the machine before switching the button to start it. Sam had brought Dean the same coffee machine for Christmas two years previously so Dean was well aware of how it worked.
Soon enough he had a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He turned and headed towards the door with one final suspicious look towards the cookie before he headed down the long corridor and entered the shop, noticing that the room was pleasantly warm just like it had been the day previously. Gladys must have had the heating on timer or something.
Dean placed his mug on the clear counter top and looked around him noticing for the first time that Gladys had a till but no computer. If there was no computer then how the hell had Gladys kept a note on what she had in stock and what she had sold. Surely she would need the computer so she could keep a record of it all. He knew that she didn't have a computer and home.
Dean bent behind the counter, opening the drawers searching for any kind of stock books she might have but every drawer was empty of any belongings. Dean stood, resting his hands against the counter. She must have books somewhere; no one could run a business without a computer or books. He knew she had, had a good memory but not even her memory could have been as good as to remember every book she owned and how many copies she had of them.
He shuddered when he thought of the stock room and how many books had been in there. God there was no way in hell that he could go through them all; it would take months to do.
Dean turned and headed back the corridor turning to the left this time and looking into the two rooms. One was a bathroom and the other was a study, A study which had plenty of books for reading but no books that he could find which had anything to do with the every day running of the shop or what they had. Either Gladys hadn't bothered keeping them or someone had taken them. Either way it meant that Dean was royally screwed.
He would have to start afresh.
Dean ran his hand through his hair, glancing down at his watch, raising an eyebrow when he realised that it was already past eight thirty and that he had been searching for over an hour. He headed back to the shop and picked up his mobile from the side, flipping through his contacts before pressing the connect button.
"Still not bothering to look at your caller ID I see, Why bother with such a fancy phone if you aren't even going to use it properly?" he teased, shaking his head before he continued speaking. "Are you still off work today Sam?" he asked
"Yep, Ruby managed to find the paperwork she had misplaced this morning so I don't have to go in to find them, why?" Sam asked, a suspicious note coming to his voice which Dean ignored.
"I need you to go and do me a favour" Dean said.
"It depends what your favour is" Sam responded instantly. "I'm not making the same mistake again Dean."
"This one is right up your geeky alleyway. I need you to go and get me a computer, you're better at all this technological stuff then I am. It needs to be state of the art, something which can store a hell of a lot of information on it."
"Why do you-"Sam began, stopping when Dean interrupted him.
"Yeah would you believe that Gladys doesn't have a computer here in the shop? I don't know how the hell she did it because she certainly didn't leave me any books. It's like everything which would have been helpful had disappeared off the face of the planet. I'm gonna have to do all of this by hand just to know what the hell is in this shop" Dean said with a sigh. Sam whistled.
"Dean, there were hundred of books in that place" he said in disbelief. "It's going to take you months to make a record of them, especially if you're doing it all by hand with no computer to store them on. I mean I'll go and get you one but I'm not going to be there until ten at the earliest"
"That's fine Sam, I've got my coffee and I've got a pen and notebook as well. I can start doing it while I wait for you. I've got to get a locksmith in to change these locks, I got to head upstairs and speak to my random tenant dude and god knows what else I'll discover which will need work done to it. I mean I noticed yesterday that the ceiling looked as though it needed-"Dean's voice trailed off, his eyes widening as he stared at the ceiling realising that it looked perfect. The slight discolouration and small cracks he had noticed yesterday were gone as though they had never been there in the first place.
"Dean is everything ok?" Sam asked, his voice sounding concerned over the phone line.
"Yeah, yeah it's nothing Sam I just thought I saw something" he said distractedly before he pulled him self together. "If you could bring me the computer here then that would be awesome, I'll buy you some lunch today as a thank you, my treat."
"Sounds good, I'll drive to the computer superstore just out of town once I'm dressed. That's where work gets their machines from so it should have plenty of options."
"Ok thanks Sam, just get whatever you think is best and drop me a text when you're on your way over to me." Dean said before he disconnected the call, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling with a growing sense of confusion. He hadn't imagined the way the ceiling had been the previous day and yet there was no sign of it.
Nothing about this place was making any sense to Dean.
He shook his head, picking up his mug and blowing on the steaming liquid before he took a sip, humming his appreciation at how good it tasted.
He placed it back on the surface, opening the small rucksack he had brought with him and opened it, pulling out his pen and notebook which he kept with him. He opened it to a clean page, glancing around him with a look of despair before he set his shoulders with a determined look.
There was no way around it so he might as well get on with it.
He stepped around the counter, heading to the first bookcase and got to work, writing down the title and author of each book and how many copies of them he had. He had no idea how long he had been working for when an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind him, a voice which sounding amused and curious at the same time.
"Well, well, well and who might you be pretty boy?
Next chapter shall be up soon.
Thanks for reading