"Watch out, don't destroy the salt lines around the window!" Bobby told him as Dean tried to open a window.

"So, the guy is called Karl Joseph Schmidt? It's like Miller, or Jones, there are thousands with that name!"

Dean shrugged, "I know. It's better than nothing!"

"Then let's split up and ask a few locals. I warn you, don't go near Reeperbahn. It's the main hunting area of the poltergeist," Bobby told him.

"What if I meet the poltergeist anyway?" Dean reached for the rifle leaning against the wall but Bobby batted his hand away.

"You can't just go running around with a rifle. People don't know that it's only rocksalt in it."

He opened the cupboard and took a little box out.

"Here, it's salt. It'll also work, and it's less suspicious."

Dean made a grumpy face but took the salt anyway.

"Okay, thanks."

"We'll meet here again in a couple of hours, hopefully we've found something by then."

With a sigh, Dean untied his tie, got out of his suit and slumped down on a chair. "Nothing," he grumbled, "all this work for nothing."

Sam lifted his head from the heap of pillows and looked at his brother, "Not successful?"

Surprised that he was awake, Dean turned around and admitted, "No, not even a tiny little bit. I asked every person called Schmidt in this goddamn town about this guy. I got zero. It's depressing."

"You what? Why didn't you tell me! I found out who he was just yesterday, you didn't have to do all the interviewing," Sam looked at him with feverish eyes.

"How did you do that? I took the laptop with me into the kitchen to make sure you really sleep."

"You didn't lock the door, I retrieved it when you were asleep. I couldn't sleep anyway."

Dean gave a heartfelt groan because of the irony of it and buried his head in his arms. "No wonder you feel like shit today."

"Sorry, I couldn't help it."

"Mmm."

That was the angriest sounding "Mmm" Sam had ever heard.

Sniffling, Sam sat up and grabbed the laptop, which he had hidden under the table, and opened it.

After a short while he turned the screen so that Dean could read.

"Here, that's what I found about him. He had been sort of a bouncer and people were scared of him, back to the year 1961. Apparently he had worked here in Hamburg while the Beatles were here, you know, before they got famous. And…well, the weirdest thing is…"

"Hehhh'GZTSHSH!"

Suddenly, Dean's head snapped forwards and he knocked it painfully against the table. Rubbing his head, he gave a series of curse words every sailor would have been proud of.

"…hjgaefzgsqjebnundfsiljkiugendskuhkls…SONOFABITCH!"

"You okay?" Sam asked, slightly amused.

"I hit my fucking eye. It hurts like hell!" Dean looked up and his left eye was watering a little.

"Dude, you're so clumsy." Sam grinned.

"You're so clumsy," Dean mimicked him and pressed his hand against his throbbing eye to try and alleviate the pain.

"Well, anyway, the weirdest thing is, that the guy just disappeared. Nobody had seen him since this one day in July where he was supposed to make sure nobody was disturbing this one rock concert."

"I wonder if the Beatles were involved. Rumour is, they were really bad boys back then." Dean mumbled,

"I bet it was George. He always seemed so quiet. Too quiet if you ask me."

Sam gave him a blank look.

"Uh. Yeah. No, I don't think it was George. By the way, he's dead now, you know? Died of cancer in 2001."

"Why do you know that? Secretly a Beatles fan?"

"I read. Besides, you're the Beatles fan," Sam winked at him and suppressed a yawn.

Dean rolled his eyes and stole the laptop from him.

"You. Sleep. Now. And don't let me catch you secretly taking this laptop back from me. I manage it on my own, we clear?"

Sam huddled into his blanket and murmured,

"Okay. But please don't leave without me, I'm coming with you. I won't let you hunt alone."

"Sleep tight," Dean gently stroked Sam's dishevelled hair and went into the kitchen to wait for Bobby.

Bobby returned home about half an hour later and Dean was scanning through the article he had found on the internet once again.

"God damn, why does everything translated by Google sound like it has been translated by Yoda? There is no structure!"

Dean shook his head in annoyance.

"Learn German, then." Bobby gave him a grin as he entered the room.

"So, did you find anything?"

Bobby shrugged.

"Not all that much, just that this guy used to be a bouncer back in 1961 and that a lot of people hated his guts."

"Yeah, I got that, too. Well, rather Sammy found it."

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at him. "Sam did? How is that?"

"Stole the laptop from the kitchen, has been doing research the whole night long."

"Idjit."

"Soo, do you have any idea of what to do next?"

Bobby opened the fridge and took out two cans of beer. Handing one to Dean, he sat down.

"Not really. But I think visiting Reeperbahn is worth a shot, even though it is dangerous."

Dean took a sip of his beer and shrugged. "Yeah, it probably is."

"Let's not waste any time, we'll be back here before dinner, Sammy won't notice a thing."