A/N: Hi again! Please keep in mind that this is my first Supernatural fanfic. This is a story (along with one other) that I am trying to finish. Please stick with me as I get "into" this story. Remember, I'm just starting…you haven't seen anything yet. Well, I bet you have but I hope I can promise to you that this story will get better.

Chapter 2: "Who the Hell is Judge Bentley?"

They finally arrived at their destination. As they pulled up, a young man with brown hair and black eyes walked over to the black Impala. He wore a read uniform which hung loosely on his thin frame. His features were kind.

"Hello," his voice was soft and almost feminine. "Welcome to the Bentley Mansion. Would you like me to park your car, Judge?"

"No," Dean replied sharply. Sam elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow, what?" he asked, glaring at Sam. He only gave his big brother a look, cleared his throat, and nodded towards the man who stood beside them. "Thank you. No thank you… Paul," he added, looking at the name tag pinned to his red covered chest.

They drove off and parked the car. Dean opened the trunk and filled the tan duffel bag with various weapons.

"Never can be too careful!"

The two brothers walked through the front doors.

The Bentley Mansion had three floors including a full basement and a large attic. The 140 year old mansion had a huge yard filled with dozens of red and white roses. White frames surrounded the doors and the windows. The front porch was large, creeping around the house and out of sight. As Sam and Dean entered, they past through a large entry way that was once a playroom. In the mansion there was a living room that was changed into a lobby, a kitchen, four public bathrooms and many bedrooms for the guests.

Dean whistled. "Whoa, this place is huge!" he said, looking around.

"Yea," Sam breathed.

They walked up to the front desk; many people looked at the pair, whispering among themselves. They kept moving, not looking at anyone but the desk clerk.

"Good evening. How may I…" the young clerk gasped.

"Ah, yes. Hi. We need a room," Sam said.

"I'm sorry and you are?" she asked looking at Sam.

"My name is… ah, Sam and this is my…ah…my partner, Dean," he answered, hiding their last name. Dean nodded.

"A room with two beds," added Dean, holding up two fingers. He smiled.

"Of course," she nodded. "Your old room can be used."

"And that would be where?" asked Dean, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I am very sorry, Judge! Room 218 on the third floor." She gave them a small, bronze key and they headed upstairs.

Room 218 was larger than any of the other hotel rooms the brothers stayed in. it had its own dining room and bathroom.

Dean set the duffel bag on one of the king size beds.

"This Judge knows how to live. Sam," he called. "See what you can find about this Judge."

Sam nodded and opened his laptop. A few minutes later Sam spoke up.

"Dean, I got something."

"Great. What does it say?"

Sam's eyes roamed over the screen, skimming the article.

"Well, Judge Bentley had this mansion built in 1887 based on the house stiles in 1845."

"Ooo, I bet there are secret passages we could explore!" Dean interrupted.

"What are we, four?"

Dean stuck out his tongue in Sam's direction.

"I saw that," Sam said. He continued reading "Judge Bentley was very successful but was a work - a - holic and had very little time for his family. Huh, does that remind you of anyone?" Sam paused. "Some years later, he disappeared. No one knew where he went." Sam's eyes widened.

"What?" Dean looked over the man's shoulder. His eyes grew wide and his mouth fell opened.

"Dean," Sam looked up and swallowed.

"Yea, Sammy?"

Dean, Judge Bentley looks exactly like you! Well, everything but the eyes and hair."

The color of the man's eyes were black. They seemed to be voids that led to cold, unfriendly space, two holes leading to emptiness. A sneer seemed to have been spread across his lips.

Sam snapped the laptop closed. He looked at his brother who seemed to stare into space, looking at nothing.

"Dean?" Sam asked worried. "Why would the people here think you were this man? I mean, that was over 100 years ago, ' pointed to the computer that sat on top of the table.

"That's what I would like to know, Sammy. Come on…"

"Where are we going?" asked Sam, slipping on his jacket.

Dean did they same. With a look of determination, he replied, " Snooping, Sammy. We're goin' snooping."

A/N: Thank you for all of your reviews! I hope you like it so far. Please review but try to say things that are half way decent. But if you can't think of anything nice to say… go ahead and say them! I might be able to fix some things. Well see ya next time…