Chapter 2 - Dockside Café in Stonington, Maine
Sam slid into the booth across from Dean who was frowning down at his plate of food.
"Is that a lobster roll?" Sam asked with astonishment coloring his tone, knowing Dean never eats fish.
"There are only two restaurants in this freaking town and none of them have any meat on their menu!" he exclaimed, looking outraged by this fact.
The corners of Sam's mouth curled up. "This is a fishing town, you know." He eyed the sandwich hungrily. "So you're not going to eat that?"
Dean directed his scowl from his food to Sam. "We need to get this job done fast - before I starve." His hunger was already starting to make him grumpy. "Tell me you found something at the morgue."
Sam pulled Dean's food toward him and shook his head. "Nothing we didn't already know before."
A young brunette waitress noticed Sam's arrival and strolled up to the table. "Anything else I can get you?" she asked sweetly, her gaze lingering on Dean.
Dean gave her a once over, taking in her short white sundress and pink lipstick. He smiled widely at her, suddenly hungry for something other than food. "That depends on what are you offering" he replied slyly.
A light blush spread across the young woman's cheeks. She stammered, looking down at the wooden floor. "I-I meant the menu."
"So did I" Dean offered her an innocent look, but his eyes hinted at his true intentions.
The woman seemed to buy his innocence though. "Oh, I'm s-so sorry. I thought –," her blush deepened and she cleared her throat. "Never mind. Our special of the day is the clam chowder" she said hurriedly.
Dean looked slightly nauseated. "Anything without fish?"
She grinned at him, raising an eyebrow. "Hate to break it to you, but you've come to the wrong town if you don't like seafood. We do have pie though. We don't put it on the menu because our cook makes a different kind every day." The woman glanced over at the counter. "Today, it looks like the Maine Blueberry Pie."
Dean beamed at her. "Perfect. I'll take two slices."
She smiled shyly at his delight. "Coming right up."
Dean glanced back at Sam. "Pie," he repeated eagerly.
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's enthusiasm and swallowed the last bite of his roll. "Dude, how about you stop thinking about sex and food for two seconds –if that's even possible—and ask her about the damn case. The locals come here so she's probably heard some of the rumors from them."
"Can't I eat my pie first?" Dean asked, looking sullen like a kid who was told he couldn't have dessert before dinner.
Sam shot Dean a look piercing.
"Fine," Dean muttered.
As the waitress leaned down to put the dishes on the table, he gave her his best sexy half-smile and leaned toward her, inches away from her face as he slid his arm over the top of the booth. "So, I'm Dean. Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Dean asked and then looked down at the nametag pinned to her dress above her breasts. "Grace," he added in seductive tone. His eyes rested on her breasts a few seconds longer than necessary.
Grace gawked at him wide-eyed like a deer caught in headlights. Apparently, unable to speak, she just nodded and stood up right to get some distance between them.
"Do you know anything about the sightings of white-haired woman at the docks?" Dean questioned, holding her gaze. "We overheard a few locals talking about it at the hotel," he explained.
She looked taken aback, thinking he was going to ask her out and found herself disappointed that he didn't even though he was a complete stranger to her. A lot of tourists came in here and tried to hit on her, it was just part of the job, but she never responded to them the way she responded to Dean. Then again, none of them were as gorgeous as him. Grace blinked a few times to clear away her disappointed thoughts. "Um, yeah. Some superstitious people in town think she's a ghost or something that's haunting the harbor."
The brothers exchanged a meaningful look.
She waved her hand dismissively as if she was trying to wave the silly idea from existence. "Ignore them. We've got a lot of fisherman here and they believe in a lot of weird superstitions. Old Billy believes that having a virgin pee on a new net is good luck."
Sam snorted into the ice water he was drinking and Dean chuckled.
"Okay, point taken," Dean said, grinning at Grace.
"Get back to work, Grace," a stern-looking woman said from entrance to the kitchen.
Grace jumped guiltily. "Sorry, Mrs. Pierce," she squeaked.
"I'm not paying you to stand around and socialize," the older woman added firmly.
"Gotta get back to work," Grace whispered, glancing down at the guys. "It was nice meeting you both."
The brothers nodded at her.
After she walked away, Dean started shoving pie into his piehole.
Sam's forehead creased in thought. "So are we thinking the thing that's ganking these people is some pissed off ghost?"
" 'Akes sense," Dean said through a full mouth. After swallowing, he continued, "Do your computer nerd crap. Check to see if any woman drowned at the docks in the twenties since that's when this all started."
"And what will you be doing?" Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother. Sometimes it felt like he did all the work while Dean spent his time doing whatever or whoever he pleased. Although Sam would never admit it to him, he was jealous of his brother. Dean always got women's attention—that waitress barely noticed his presence—and Sam always got left out in the cold, alone.
Dean shot him an impatient look. He was so damn tired of Sam's brooding attitude. "I'll be talking to the local fisherman to see if we can get any more info on this ghost."