Chapter Two

"This is a Bronx bound 2 Express train, the next stop is 42nd Street, Times Square." the loudspeaker blared out, and it was soon followed by another voice.

"Stand clear of the closing doors please." The doors closed with two beeps.

Boop. Boop.

Sam turned as the train pulled out of 34th Street. He rolled his eyes, and the train chugged along. Dean looked around and caught the glance of a girl sitting on the train and he smiled at her when she looked his way. Sam smacked him on the arm.

"Dude, I thought things were okay between you and Jade." Sam grunted, annoyed.

"They are," replied Dean, still smiling his chesire grin, "But she's in Salem and we're in New York."

"Dude, where are your--!" Sam was about to scold him, however the loudspeaker announced the obvious, cutting him off.

"This is 42nd Street, Times Square," it blared again

"Dean, we get off here." Sam said, practically dragging him out of the train.

The platform and the station were crowded with people. Somehow, Sam and Dean manuevered there way out of the large station and out onto the street which like the station was packed with native New Yorkers and tourists. Both of the brothers looked at each other, wide-eyed and amazed at how busy New York City really was.

"Aren't you glad we came here?" asked Dean sarcastically.

"Shut up and let's find a hotel," Sam snapped, "Stay close, Dean. I can lose you in this crowd."

"Are you sure you don't want to hold my hand?" Dean retorted as they began walking onto Seventh Avenue. He bumped head onto a brunette.

"Well, hello there." he said, amazed at her beauty.

"Excuse me," she answered coldly and abruptly as she disappeared into the massive crowd.

"Rude," mumbled Dean.

The two soon found themselves in the heart of Times Square and standing in the center of it, on a triangular sidewalk that divided Broadway and Seventh, was a man who seemed to be standing in his underwear and boots with a cowboy hat on his head and holding a guitar. They crossed in front of the Naked Cowboy and Dean had to stop and stare.

"Sam?" he asked.

"Yeah, Dean?" Sam turned.

"I dare you. I dare you to try and pull that off." Dean remarked, grinning.

"Oh come on, Dean, it's February," Sam answered, annoyed. It was cold and Sam's hands were beginning to become numb. Part of him kind of felt bad for the poor Naked Cowboy, he must've been freezing cold.

"I double dare ya," snickered Dean, following Sam.

The two arrived in front of a hotel and looked up at it. This wasn't their average motel or shitty hotel. This was the real thing. Without another word, the two rushed into the hotel and to the front desk. Within fifteen minutes, the two were in there room. They were lucky someone had just checked out. Dean crashed on the bed closest to the door as Sam opened up the newspaper he picked up in the lobby.

"Dude, check this out," Sam said, holding up the paper to the front page.

"I'm hearing voices. But I don't know where they're coming from," chanted Dean into the pillow, pretending not to hear Sam.

"Dean! Come on, one minute, just take a look at the headline!" Sam replied.

Dean picked up his head and looked at the newspaper Sam was holding, "'Hell's Kitchen is Cooking...with murder'." Dean read the headline out loud.

"There was another murder last night," Sam replied, "I think we should investigate."

"I think we should take a nap and talk about this in two hours," Dean answered, his head slamming back down onto the pillow.

"Dean, come on. He was killed earlier this morning. You know we only have a limited time to see the body before the family steps in."

"I have been stuck in traffic for the past three hours. I have not slept. I have not ate. Neither have you. 2 hours is all I ask."

"We are not in some hick town Dean. Things move a lot faster here." Sam said

"I take offense to that...we came from some hick town." Dean retorted then grunted. He had to admit Sam was right. New York was new to them and it was a faster place. He got up from the bed and looked at him.

"You owe me. Let's go."

------

"Dr...Evans, you want to see the body of Greg Finnigan?" asked the woman at the front desk in the hospital. "There was someone here earlier already."

"That was my associate. I need to see the body myself." Dean answered in a serious tone.

Sam stood on the side watching him try to finnagle himself into the morgue to examine the body. Anyone could do it, but Sam had to admit, Dean made it look like an art form. Before long and after smiling a lot, the two were standing in the morgue.

"That took long enough." Dean retorted standing there

"Dr.Evans...where did you get that from?"

"Chad Everett. He was my idol." Dean answered beginning to walk down the rows that held the dead. He lifted up the sheet and made a face. "That's not him."

"Can we hurry this up Dean?" Sam asked

"Sammy, you were the one who wanted to come here. We could be in a nice warm bed right now sleeping." Dean remarked then said, "I found him, he's right here." Dean lifted up the sheet and grimaced.

Sam looked over his brother's shoulder and he too grimaced.

"Ouch," they both replied at the same time

"What on God's green earth happened to this guy?" asked Sam.

On the slab lay Greg Finnigan, his body barely damaged, except for the purple marks on his neck, the dried blood from his ears and...he was missing his manhood. Both brothers without thinking looked down at themselves making sure there manhood still was there. Dean had no idea what could have done such a thing to this man as did Sam. This was not familiar to them. They had to check their father's journal again.

"Looks like something was after his lucky charms." remarked Dean in a fake Irish accent.

"Dude," Sam replied, grossed out, "That is so wrong. SO wrong."