A/N: So last weekend, while at my local Blues festival, I wrote this little scene and it really kinda helps to move into where I want to go with this story. Hope you like it.
Thank you to everyone for reading and alerting this story.
As always, I own nothing.
Enjoy!
Chapter 2: The Blues is Alright.
Sam pulled the Impala to a stop just off the little town's main street, waking Dean up from his time as passenger and announcing their arrival at the scene of another one of their 'investigations'. The little town really wasn't much of anything but hamlet along a long stretch of Lake Superior's shoreline that branched off the highway that continued north to Canada. The side streets of the little town were bustling even at the early hour and there seemed to be more people then the little town could handle. The brothers looked around at the crowd and then back at each other.
Sam and Dean had driven all night, most of the previous day, and again through the night to arrive in the sleepy little town, only to find it awake and busy. There were people everywhere they looked and very little room for anything else.
"Where have you brought us?" Dean asked as he watched the people pass him by. "I have a feeling we won't even find a motel."
"I think this is the right place," Sam stated, looking at he map that he had just unfolded on the hook of the car. "But it said it was a town of less then a thousand people." He added in confusion.
"You boys lost?" an old man asked as he began walking a circle around the impala. "Nice wheels," he added and Dean grinned, "Don't see many of these anymore."
"She's my baby, I take very good care of her," Dean boasted.
"Good on ya, boy," the old man chuckled, kicked one of the tired and stood back pleased with what he was seeing.
"We're looking for McKewitt Castle," Sam stated as he rolled his eyes at the exchange between his brother and the stranger.
"You're in the right place if you're looking for ghost stories and a good weekend of the Blues." The old man smiled a toothless grin.
"The Blues?" Dean asked.
"On yes, son," the man chuckled, "this sleepy little town of only about 500 people wakes up with the Blues for one weekend only," the man explained as he moved back toward the sidewalk and walked on.
"One weekend, and this place end ups expanding from 500 people to 5000," Dean sighed, "no wonder the disappearances are a big deal here."
"It's a good time to hide something," Sam stated.
"And your research told you nothing about this?" Dean asked.
Sam shook his head.
"For one weekend only, people that have no idea what is going on here unexpectedly find them in a whole lot of trouble," Sam sighed. "That broadens the search; it's probably not even paranormal."
"We have to stop whatever it is," Dean said as he eyed two bikini clad women walking down toward the beach, "the Blues attacks bikinis!" he added slyly, "and you make fun of my music."
"You don't like the blues, you like mullet rock," Sam stated watching his brother with interest.
"Sammy, the Blues is where rock began!" Dean stated, "We're talking Jeff Beck, Buddy Guy, Jimi Hendrix, Billie Holiday, John Lee Hooker, Robert Johnson, do I need to remind you of the crossroads? B.B. King, Muddy Waters, the Rolling Stones, Stevie Ray Vaughan…"
"Alright, I get it, you like the Blues!" Sam hissed and Dean looked up and down the street, his eyes following women of all shapes and sizes.
"Looks like the ladies love the Blues too," Dean smiled mischievously. "You go and find city hall, or their hall of records, or whatever it is you do with your brain and stuff, and I'll mingle and get the lay of the land." He added as he headed off toward the beach.
"Dean, wait, what are you going to do?" Sam asked exasperation on his voice. "We may as well turn around and head out; there is nothing here but a stop on some crazy's tack to abducting women. It's not a job for us."
"Oh but it is," Dean smiled, "you said yourself this place holds a very famous, ghost, the least we can do is investigate, talk to some of the locals and see if there is anything to worry about."
"You're grasping at straws Dean," Sam sighed.
"You're the one that brought us here, so you go and satisfy your curiosity about these disappearances, and I'll find us a place to 'lay out weary heads' and see if I can find this camp ground you're so interested in seeing." Dean stated, "This isn't just a pleasure trip Sam, I'm serious about this job, really I am I think something is going on here," he added as his eyes wandered after another beautiful woman, "bet-cha she knows where I can find a good ghost story." He smirked and walked away from his brother.
"Why, in all the year, did I have to choose this ghost?" Sam asked himself as he turned and headed off in the other direction.