Once again another fic from yours' truly. This time..it's a little triqual..if you want to call it that to The Blues Brothers but this one doesn't deal with robots or people continuing the music, it's about bringing a legend back by any means necessary.

Now you'll notice something about the chapter titles; the titles are blues songs I've picked that would be awesome for this movie if it was actually made. They will have the name of the song and the artist who did them. ^^

So buckle up, grab some popcorn, do whatever you need to for comfort. This is gonna be a long fic. So enjoy and please as usual, no flames, no bashes, or anything like that. Thanks ^^

Elwood belongs to Dan Aykroyd/Universal
Mack belongs to John Goodman/Universal
Jake belongs to John Belushi (may God have mercy on his soul)/Universal
Buster belongs to J. Evan Bonifant/Universal
Cab belongs to Joe Morton/Universal
The band characters rightfully belong to their own selves/Universal
Shot Gun Blues belongs to whoever wrote it originally

The Blues Brothers 3: Bringing Back the Blues

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Chapter 1 : Just a Feeling - Little Walter

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Something had been nagging Elwood for the past few weeks as he watched Calumet from his hotel window. It was a constant, annoying feeling that would cause Elwood to distract his mind from it or attempt to make some music to drive it out. None of these worked as he slowly and silently grew impatient with it to the point that sometimes he bore a slight scowl on his face but most of the time he would wear a disapproving smirk. It was amazing how this little annoyance came and went from time to time as it pestered Elwood greatly to the point where he would hum loudly to get it out of his mind. If this thing was going to be a bitch to him Elwood concluded that he could either solve the problem of it being so or ride it out and see if it goes away. Alas to Elwood's dismay, it didn't which caused him to blow into his harp fiercely in an attempt to vent his frustration towards this feeling. The tones were loud and almost harsh at points as he played on with the deep emotions in his soul. In a way he was like a stallion attempting to get rid of something that spooked him or pestered him constantly.

Others would notice this and immediately grow concerned as they also wondered what in the Hell could this thing be. Everyone acknowledged Elwood's new behavior; Mack,Buster, Cab, the band- they all knew this but couldn't figure out what was nagging Elwood. It was at then they decided to have a meeting about this to which they did so without Elwood knowing. They all met in Mack's room with their own supply of beer, soda, and chips as well as a deck or two of cards. This was their "Poker Night" as Cab had dubbed it. All men had one or so he knew. In Cab's mind (as well as Mack's mind) it was a get together of men to prove who could kill in Poker and chug the most beer in the room....or Pepsi. Nonetheless, Cab invited the band, Mack, and even Buster to join on this to not only play Poker but talk about their annoyed leader. Buster had asked Elwood to join them out of the goodness of his heart but the music of the soul was too loud for Elwood to hear and thus, Buster left it as that. As their game began Mack brought the meeting to order as he spoke in a booming tone to attract their attention.

"All right, now...anyone know what's wrong with Elwood," he started to deal the cards. Mack had seen enough Poker games played at Willie's enough times to call himself a car dealer, Hell even picked up a trick or two as he watched his opponents for the night.

"Maybe it's some hooker," Murphy Murph Dunn spoke as he placed his bet in the center of the somewhat medium wood table of the hotel room.

"Yeah but by now we would of heard Elwood, you know how much of a screamer he is in the sack...," Matt Guitar Murphy spoke as Buster mentally questioned what the Hell a 'screamer in the sack' was. He understood the sack part but the 'screamer'? Not so much. He figured he'd ask later as he examined his childish hand and sipped his Pepsi.

"Besides, how can Elwood get with a hooker like that? That's like asking a damn cat to be with a dog," Duck responded as he raised his bet by twenty and examined his cards as he sneered and cursed under his breath. As usual, the worse hand in the damn game. God why him?

It couldn't be stress from traveling or so they concluded, Elwood loved doing the gigs. He loved how the audience screamed and begged for more blues as though their lives depended on it so that they could relate to them in some way. How their bodies even moved to the blues was enough to draw him in (sometimes) not by physical appearance but as accepting the music in an attempt to make it one with their being. It was fascinating what people would do to see master bluesmen practice their craft let alone hear the craft itself. It was the very thing that kept Elwood alive and acknowledging that Jake would still want the blues to live on just as he did.

"Wait guys, what if it's..Jake," Buster spoke up as he sipped a Pepsi which caused everyone to fall silent.

Jake had a huge impact on everyone as a singer, band leader, and a close friend and brother to Elwood. He always knew how to get them out of the deepest fucking shit (or so Willie had put it) and get them the greatest gigs. Without him there wouldn't be a band, next to Elwood of course who had kept in contact with the boys but now things were different and even Mack, Cab, and Buster acknowledged this. The three of them knew that Jake was a powerhouse and an important figure in Elwood's life. Of course they hadn't known him personally but they would sometimes hear about him from the band or Elwood. Elwood talked about Jake like he was Jesus and all the things he did were a miracle or some performance of the mind that only divine beings seemed to know. The band was used to it and acknowledged it greatly as seeing that Jake was like the perfect boss that one could kick back, sing a few songs, and get some hookers with.

Maybe the memory and feelings of his unknown demise had finally got to Elwood or so Buster thought as well as a few others. Nonetheless, it wouldn't be nagging Elwood..or would it? But from how it sounded, Jake was never a nag but more of a big brother who always defended his younger sibling. So then what was it?

At the time, unbeknownst to them, Elwood slipped out of his room with silence as if he had taken on the qualities of a deathly black widow eyeing its' prey. Slinking down the stairs with ease and sticking to the walls he found his way to the parking lot where he resumed to act his sneaky ways. He crept into the Bluesmobile and immediately breathed in the scent of a few smokes, some old blues records that they picked up along the way, and assortment of foods that were easily accessible at a drug store.

He loved this car, just like the last one. The last one, the last car, Jake- Elwood bit his lip. No, Jake wasn't nagging him it was something before him and without him. Starting up the engine, he allowed his mind to sink into the sound of the car. It roared with life, the very thing that Elwood loved about that car. He attempted to drive out the thought of Jake- there he was again damnit! He wanted him out of his head so he could move on but he knew he couldn't because shit would always remind him of Jake! He roared the engine loud and pulled out fast, he needed to drive in order to clear his head as he turned on the radio to a good blues station. Shit. Shotgun Blues. Jake's song, the one he was always great at.

My life is like water
Goin down the drain

That was Elwood, that was Jake, that was the music, that was the soul inside yearning and burning to get the Hell out. Elwood floored the brakes before he could leave the hotel parking lot. Elwood's mind was heavy just like the constant heartbeat in his chest. God, Jake- why wasn't he here? Why wasn't he in the passenger seat and looking at him with the arched eyebrow of confusion? Why wasn't he giving him the concerned look? Why wasn't here there? Damn death. Damn jail. Damn people for not telling him his only hope (save for the music) was gone. Damn them all!

Elwood fiercely bit his lip and looked at the road ahead. It was long and dark like his journey yet to come through life. Watching the empty streets he acknowledged that he needed a sign to guide him and take him where he needed to be. Not at a gig, not at a bar, not at a brothel but somewhere where he can let his mind be somewhat easier than how it was now. There was one place that instantly came to mind except for his surrounding home of Calumet where his once humble abode stood as a part of a Transient Hotel that was now burned and deceased - just like Jake. There was also one person there that could help him in his instant idea of the perfect place to be free.

He looked over at the lit window that held his "family" and smirked. He knew what he had to do and couldn't waste time as he pulled back into the parking lot and ran up to his room. There was no time to waste as he grabbed a few things; shampoo, soap, etc. all the things the hotel gave him as well as a few blues records and his briefcase. Throwing these items into the car, he once again ran but this time to the room that held the people closest to him.

A few moments later the boys laid down their hands. By now they were into the third round of their game and for once, Duck had the perfect hand. No one could beat him now as he grinned internally while managing a poker face by some miracle. He was about to win all the cash in the til, all the bets- Hell, Buster even bet some cash Elwood gave him. Even so, it was still worth something as he was so close until a loud banging interrupted his cards.

"GODDAMNIT, WHO IS IT!?"

"It's Elwood!"

"Shit," everyone looked around at each other before Buster bolted to the door and swung it open.

"Elwood-"

"Get your stuff, we're skatin'."

"Where we headin' to," Mack asked as started to get his stuff together.

"New Orleans," Elwood responded as he left the room and awaited a group of men with confused faces.