Flat Lick, Kentucky was the most boring place in the history of history. Castiel and I both thought we were in the wrong place when we got there, but we were clearly in the right place. We stood in pretty much the middle of nowhere, well, we were actually in the middle of a road. To be more specific, Cumberland Gap Parkway, and there was a gas station, and inside the gas station it had a half that was cut off, which just happened to be a bar. We stood in the parking lot, and off to mine and Castiel's right was an ambulance. On the stretcher lay a heavy set man with blood covering his face, most of it from his nose. He was incredibly hairy, mustache, beard, everything.
"Cas, you got your badge, right?" He frowned, searching his pockets. He pulled it out of his left breast pocket, a curious look on his face.
"I never-"
"No one cares, Cas. We're here to investigate." Castiel followed in my footsteps as I approached the police vehicles that were a bit off a ways, not bothering with the ambulance, the guy looked pretty wrecked up. I approached a guy who had a sheriff badge and was writing something down on a pad of paper. I cleared my throat to get his attention.
"Hi, F.B.I. I'm Agent Richardson, this is Agent Angelo, we're here to investigate. . . this." I pulled a badge out of my pocket, opening it up and urging Cas to do the same. He flipped open his. . . upside right. I put mine away, practicing my acting.
"What can I do for ya? This was just a bar fight, nothin' to it." He shrugged a little, like it wasn't a big deal. I looked around, there were four cop cars with their lights flashing.
"I think it's a big deal if you need the sheriff and three extra troopers. That guy looked pretty beat up. Can you give me some details? Any witnesses?" The guy reached up and fixed his southern-style cowboy hat, hooking his thumb in his belt and pursing his lips. He gave me an extra stubborn look.
"It was pretty bad, we had quite a few people callin' for it, they said this guy looked pretty tough. What makes you think we can't handle this and the F.B.I. has to come snoopin' around here to get things goin' back to normal?" He pushed his hip out, a telltale southern sign that someone had a diddly darn good crush on you.
"We think this is a guy we've been looking for awhile. He's a serial killer, haven't caught him yet." The sheriff's eyes lit up with interest, and his attitude immediately changed.
"Keep your mouth shut 'bout somethin' like this. Folks 'round here don't wanna know 'bout some dude killin' people for fun. I'll getcha hooked up with some people, you can ask around. This is a small town, so anything you say will get around real quick, so you guys don't go around tellin' everythin'. You two got me?" We both complied and he gave me a list of names and descriptions. Most of the people were still around outside, looking pretty shaken up. Castiel and I both approached a guy, who was leaning against a pretty old looking camaro and smoking a cigarette. He looked like a biker, tattoos, horseshoe mustache and black leather.
"Hi. Jackson Attles?" I heard his neck crack as he looked over at me. He raised a bushy eyebrow and blew some smoke.
"Whatchoo doin' here, sweetheart?" He asked me, eyeing me up and stopping at my legs and chest.
"Agent Richardson, F.B.I. We'd like to ask you about what you saw tonight at the bar if you don't mind." I flipped open my badge for him to see and his attitude didn't change.
"Whatcha wanna know? I can tell you whatever you need." I pulled a pen and paper out of my pocket, I honestly didn't even know it was there in the first place.
"Can you give us a description of who it was you saw?" The man turned away and took a long drag on his cigarette, not saying anything.
"Jackson?" He blew a plume of smoke right in my face, cocking his head a little.
"Call me Jack, sweetheart. And yes, I sure as hell can." He leaned against his car, chewing his cheek for a moment.
"Average guy it looked like. 'Bout 5'8, 5'10. He was a good lookin' fella. Light brown hair, leather jacket. He was takin' some Purple Nurple's down like I've never seen before, then got up with his waitress, Amber. She's talk of the town, you could say she's the town whore, only one everyone goes after. Well, he got up and almost left with her when her stepdad, Don, said sumth'n to him. Dunno what he said, the guy walked right up to him and said something nasty to Don's face. Don threw the first punch I think, then both of them were on the floor. Guy was beatin' his face real good, then he went an' grabbed a bottle from someone and whacked him with it. Knocked Don out cold, lemme tell ya', he took a real beating. Don's a good guy, he'd never pick a fight with nobody, but that was his daughter the guy was talkin' about. I'd say it's Don's own fault." It sounded like something Dean would do, but I didn't know him as well as Sam or Castiel. I looked at Castiel and his face was white, that's how I knew that the guy was talking about Dean.
"The guy, did he mention his name? Did he mention any name's?" Jack turned away from the two of us, shaking his head. we thanked him and left, knowing that there was nothing more we could get from him.
"Hold on a second, sweetheart." I stopped, biting back my irritation. I hated it when people called me sweetheart.
"You got something else?"
"Yeah, the guy was bowlegged." Before I could thank him, Castiel was walking away and I had to fast walk to keep up with him. I yelled my thanks and turned on Cas.
"What's up? That a problem or something?"
"Dean's bowlegged." He didn't say anything else, but rather stopped in the middle of the parking lot. I jerked to a stop.
"Now what? We know it's Dean." I turned around a looked at him.
"Castiel, we got a guy that sounds like Dean, we have no evidence it really is him." Castiel's eyebrows squished together, smushing his face and forcing him to look like a puppy.
"Hey," I grabbed his tie, jerking him toward me. "We'll find him. If you know anything, you know that if it is Dean doing this, it isn't the real him." He looked down at me, pushing his bottom lip out and staring at me with a mournful look.
"Okay?" I asked him, giving him my best small reassuring smile.
"Okay." I hardly heard him, he was very upset. I grabbed his sleeve, pulling him along with me into the bar, which was called "The Knot". We flashed our badges as we walked in, surprisingly, there wasn't a crime scene, it was just a few cops having a drink and a bunch of people cleaning up the broken table, shattered glass and blood on the floor. I approached one of them, with Castiel still behind me.
"Can you direct me to the manager?" I asked the young man. He looked up at the spot he was scrubbing on the floor, giving me a shy smile.
"Yeah," He began. "Right this way." He got up and tossed his rag into a bucket, beckoning us into the back of the bar, then leading us into a room that stunk like whiskey. He knocked on the door and said something in French, which was responded with "entrez". The young man opened the door and smiled at us. I smiled back politely, reaching behind me and fingering the gun that was in the back of my jeans. We were greeted with a young woman, which was surprising. What was even more surprising was that she had super bright red hair, and she was very, very bitchy. My breath hitched and I heard Castiel's angel blade slide out of his sleeve.
"Oh, Castiel, it's pointless. You can't really kill a Knight of Hell with a little angel blade like that."