I was not expecting any sort of comments, so thank you to Blondie 20000 and Katy! I just like to write. Don't mind me. Also, I do not own SPN.

Sam was the one driving as they got into Sheboygan, Wisconsin by way of the freeway at mid-morning. For fall, it was a bit chillier than Kansas. It was a decent sized city, bigger than most they frequented. Dean was checking out some motels they could try staying at in the city and found one near a resort.

"Seriously? Who'd build a resort in this place?" he remarked, clicking on the Blue Harbor Resort and Spa link. His eyes widened. "Dude, they got a freaking WATERPARK in that thing!" he exclaimed, looking up at Sam.

"A waterpark? At the resort?" Sam was utterly confused. "What the hell kind of place is this?"

"Dude, we gotta go to the resort, screw the motel."

"Dean, I don't think—"

"Sam, indoor. Water. Park," Dean emphasized. "C'mon, when do we ever get to do fun stuff like this?"

Sam sighed. "We're here for a case, not for a waterpark. Besides, we didn't pack swim trunks."

"Well, why can't it be both? We could grab a pair from somewhere. And didn't the murders happen close to the harbor anyways? It says the resort is less than a mile from the harbor. If we went to the motel, it'd only be like a quarter mile of a difference," Dean argued.

"And a lot cheaper, too," Sam reminded him. Dean harumphed.

"It's not like we're paying for it ourselves," Dean offered up. "So what if we give up one credit card to stay there?"

Sam stole a glance at Dean, his older brother. The one who had raised him. The man who never got a chance to be a kid because his little brother needed him. "How do we get to the resort?" he finally asked Dean.

Dean sat up in the passenger seat, grinning like a little kid. "Yeah, okay, we're still going like we're heading to the motel. I'll let you know when to turn." His excitement made Sam happy. It was the little things.

Once they got settled in their hotel room and taped their waterpark wristbands on, they decided to go get some food. Dressed in their suits, they went back to the lobby to talk with reception.

"Any good burger places here?" Dean asked the front desk.

"Depends. If you want a heart attack, definitely Schulz's Restaurant. Harry's Diner is always good too. If you want a chain, there's always McDonald's or Culver's," the young woman offered. Her nametape read "Emily".

"Well, thank you, Emily," Dean replied. "I'll be sure to let you know how everything turned out. Mr. Young, let's go and try out Schulz's. Sounds promising." Sam rolled his eyes and turned to the door. Baby was parked outside, and Dean was on a hunt. A burger hunt.

When the sandwiches came out, Dean had a big smile on his face. He had ordered something with a hamburger and a bratwurst together and couldn't wait to sink his teeth into it. Sam had opted for the chicken salad sandwich, which was healthier than many of the other items on the menu. Dean saw some of the other customers putting ketchup and mustard on their hamburger/brat combos, so he did the same. He took his first bite and closed his eyes, savoring the flavor.

"Sam, this is SO GOOD," he replied, voraciously attacking the rest of his sandwich. Sam just sat across from him, slowly eating his meal and enjoying it.

"I like actually tasting my food, Dean. Like, for more than 5 minutes." Sam was surprised at how good the chicken salad sandwich was. Looking at the people around him, he could tell that all sorts of people from the city loved eating there. And most were not small either. "Anyways, so what do you think about the murders?" Dean had looked over the reports in the car on the drive up.

Dean swallowed a bite of his burger. "From what I can tell, ghost. But nothing seems to connect the victims, which is gonna be the hard part." He took another bite, chewing and thinking. "Where do you think we should start?" he asked Sam.

Just then, a man tapped Dean's shoulder. He turned quickly, jarred from the audacity of someone touching him. "I don't mean to intrude but I heard you mention 'murder'. You talking about the murders happening here?"

"Uh, yeah; we're FBI, but we just pulled into town," Sam replied, leaning forward in his seat. He did not want to miss this opportunity to get information. "If you know anything, we'd really appreciate if you could tell us what you know."

"Name's Mike. Mike Flipsie," the man said, shaking Sam's hand over the table. His hands were calloused and a little dirty, and he had a stained Packers long-sleeve shirt on. He sat back in his seat. He had a friend at the table with him dressed similarly. He continued. "Those murders all happened to older people. Like, in their 70's or 80's. Not sure why someone'd be getting rid of those older folks." He exchanged looks with his friend. "It's really weird. We don't get this kind of thing here. The police aren't exactly familiar with this. Glad to hear that the government is getting involved." Mike nodded his head. "Hopefully, we can get this taken care of quickly. Good luck," the man said, draining the last of his drink and motioning to his friend. "See you around."

The man behind the counter called out, "Bye, Mike!" Mike gave a wave as he walked out the door.

Sam looked around at the restaurant now. A few curious stares, but it seemed like no one noticed that the man had just butt into their conversation. There was chatter all over the place, some people interjecting themselves into another table's conversation with no scoffs or glares. It was like a big family get together. He'd never seen anything quite like it. "Dude, that was some good info. You thinking what I'm thinking?" Dean looked up, having eaten the last bite of his burger.

"Police station to get eye-witness reports?" Sam nodded, having just taken another bite of his sandwich. Dean eyed the front counter again, pondering his next choice. "You think they have pie?"