For all of you who thought I abandoned the story I am sorry. You may send the hell hounds after me. For all of you who have faithfully stayed with me thank you. I have the next several chapters planned out and am in the processes of writing this week. I probably will not post them all this week but I will post at least two.

As he stepped through the door, Castiel could tell a full battle had taken place from the damage he could already see. As he had seen, Dean and Sam do hundreds of times he pulled out a badge from his pocket, glanced at it, and walked over to the officer in charge.

"I'm agent Steven Walsh. Do we know what happened here?"

The balding sheriff pointed to the room with a sweeping gesture, "in a place like this I would say a gang fight."

Castiel pulled out a small notebook from his pants as part of his costume and proceeded to write as the cop spoke. He had not missed the way the sheriff worded the answer. "You would say. You don't think it was a gang fight?"

The sheriff glanced at Castiel a wondered if the man was really an FBI agent. The jeans and tee shirt the man was wearing screamed reporter even though the badge told another story. "Say have I heard the name Steve Walsh before."

"Castiel hesitated for a second. Sam had told him that the only way to get around Dean's habit of giving them names of rock band members was to own it. Fortunately, Sam also explained his name so he had an answer for the sheriff. "Yes, Steve is a common name in the United States. I go by Steven so no one confuses me with the man from the band Kansas."

The sheriff again glanced at Castiel's clothes and realized no one would confuse them. He did not sound like a reporter and it wasn't as if the general public could get their hands on a badge. "Sorry for the question you just don't look like an FBI agent."

If Castiel had not watch Dean and Sam do this as often as he had he probably would have panicked. "Oh the clothes? I was traveling, we stopped and I heard about this. It sounded like a case that crossed our desk last week in Washington. I thought I would check it out the similarities and offer any help in your investigation."

For now, the sheriff would believe him, after all one of his deputies did say according to the internet that there were at least three other sites like this. And a cop was a cop off duty or on. If he thought about it, there was another reason he would go ahead and tell him what he thought. Something in his gut told him to trust the man standing in front of him.

"Over turned tables and the wounds suggest a fight. However, all of the victims belong to the riding club. Was it infighting? Shouldn't there either be a survivor from this riding group or casualties from a rival gang also. Yet no other riding group or motorcycle gang has been seen in the area in several weeks. As a matter of fact the last people in the bar before this were a church choir group."

Castiel frowned even though no longer an angel he could make out the scorched wing marks on the walls and floor. He knew that the real victims were not the bikers but the angels using them as vessels. What he didn't know is if their killers were other angels or demons. There was no smell of sulfur but that would mean his brothers and sisters were killing each other again. He was going to need help on this one and he hoped that he could count on Dean and Sam. He closed the small notebook; put it back in his pocket before he looked one more time around the room. "Thank you for your help."

The sheriff looked at Castiel expecting him to say more. When the former agent didn't the man cleared his throat and said, "Well? How close does your case match?"

This was the part he wasn't good at and wished for the fifth time tonight that the Winchesters were with him. "Yes there are some similarities but not enough to think the cases are connected," Castiel lied.

The sheriff pursed his lips in thought. He didn't know what to make of the man standing in front of him. The last time a fed admitted to anything was the day they started. And for him to volunteer that the two cases weren't connected was not typical FBI SOP.

Castiel frowned he could see the sheriff thinking too hard and wondered what he had done to blow his cover. He could hear Dean telling him it was time to go. Especially if he missed his bus and was stuck in town. "Sheriff, I know it is a lot to ask but I was hoping one of your deputies could drive me to the bus station."

A grin replaced the speculative look the sheriff had given the former angel. He understood perfectly now. The Fed was being nice because he wanted something in return. "We can most definitely see about that. We wouldn't want you to miss the bus and get stuck in our small town now would we? Fred can you give Agent Walsh a ride to the bus station?"

Castiel was not sure what he finally did right but he was grateful the sheriff didn't push the situation. He would hate to have to call Dean to come and get him. He could show Dean how much he had learned if the hunter had to come and bail him out of jail.

"Thank you." He turned to the twenty year old in a uniform similar to what the sheriff was wearing and assumed this was Fred.

"You're welcome agent Walsh. It was a pleasure to work with a Fed who didn't turn out to be a horses ass. We don't get that often around here."

Castiel nodded his agreement and followed the young man out the door. Lebanon was eight hours away on the bus and not for the first time he wished he could still travel instantaneously. He had a feeling that he would be seeing more scenes like the bar.