Michael left the restaurant satisfied. The food had been delicious and for the first time since his fall Michael felt comfortable. It was a relief to not have the hunger pains he'd had previously.

Back on the street Michael continued his search for the woman he'd been sent to guard, but after making three trips around the entire town on foot his patience wore thin.

All he could think about was how his powers would have helped him out. He could have found the hunter in a heartbeat if he'd still had them instead of wondering around aimlessly like he'd done the last five hours.

Michael was tired. He plopped himself down on the nearest bench in the town park and put his head in his hands.

After a few seconds sitting there he looked up to the blue sky.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked aloud. "Where is she?"

There was no answer.

Michael had never felt so alone or so close to tears.

He stayed there in the park for quite some time before standing up again and making his way back into the main part of town.

As he passed a gas station Michael remembered when Zachariah went to a bar when he'd taken him off of his mission to get Dean to say yes and decided to go to one himself. He felt the need to numb his pain. As a human it was something he could definitely do now.

The bar he went to was simply called Plentywood Bar and Michael was able to take a guess that Plentywood was the town's name. Michael remembered that there was a town called Plentywood in Montana and he felt a little better. There was relief in knowing where he was.

Michael sat down on a stool at the bar and the bartender turned to him from the bottles he'd been organizing.

"What'd you like?" the man inquired.

Michael laid his head on his upturned palm. "The strongest drink you have."

The man nodded. "Whiskey it is. First one's on the house."

Thank God, Michael thought.

He wanted to laugh at the irony of him thinking that, but didn't. Instead he caught the shot glass the bartender slid towards him and brought it to his lips to swallow its contents in one gulp.

He closed his eyes tight for a moment as the alcohol slid down his throat. It tasted horrible.

"Want another one?" the bartender questioned.

Michael shook his head. "Maybe later."

But probably not.

Suddenly, there was commotion in the room.

"Get away from me!" a feminine voice shouted.

Michael craned his neck to see one of the waitresses, a dark brunette, pushing a man with graying hair away from her.

"Aw, come on sweetheart," the man said drunkenly, "Don't be mean."

He pinched the woman's ass and she punched him in the face.

The man brought his hand up to his nose and pulled it back to find blood on it.

"Look what you did!" the man growled.

He grabbed the waitress and shook her.

Michael felt anger rise up in him. He took action on the emotion and bolted towards the drunken man to push him away from the woman.

"She told you to leave her alone," he hissed, then raised his voice, "So leave her alone!"

The man rolled his eyes. "What are you? Her boyfriend?"

"No," Michael replied. "Just a better man than you."

The man guffawed at the statement as the bartender approached them.

"You'd better leave Marty," he said.

Marty tugged on his jacket. "Fine."

He turned to Michael and shook a finger at him. "This isn't over."

Michael smirked. "I think it is."

He watched as the bartender lead Marty out of the bar then twisted around to face the waitress.

As he took a good look at her a strange feeling of belonging came over him and he realized that she must be his charge.

It would explain why he had jumped in so quickly to protect her.

"Are you okay?" he inquired.

"I'm fine," the waitress answered. "You didn't have to do that. I could have taken him on my own."

"It didn't appear that way from where I was sitting," Michael told her.

The waitress chuckled. "Well, appearances are deceiving."

She looked down and noticed his dirty clothing. "Speaking of appearances...what happened to you?"

"It's been a rough day," Michael said simply.

The waitress laughed.

"I'm Michael." Michael outstretched his hand like he'd seen humans do before as a greeting.

The waitress smiled and shook it. "April."

"Are you a hunter, April?" Michael asked abruptly.

April starred at him strangely. "You mean animal hunting?"

"No." Michael shook his head. "I mean demon hunting."

"There's no such thing as demons," April told him slowly.

Michael could tell she was lying. "April, I'm a hunter, and I know you are one too."

"How do you know that?"

"I have heard about you," Michael explained, "Through other hunters."

"Ah huh," April cocked an eyebrow. "So what is it that you want? You must want something to come all this way to find me."

Michael pondered for a second trying to figure out what was best to say.

"I caught a demon the other day that told me that another demon wanted to kill you."

"Really." It didn't look like April was very convinced.

Michael frowned. "I'm telling you the truth, April. I wouldn't lie about this."

"Why would a demon come after me? I barely hunt demons. I'm more of a monster expert."

"I do not know," Michael answered honestly. "All I know is a demon will come after you."

"Why do you care so much?" April questioned.

Michael sighed. "Because every hunter is important. There are not many of us left; you know that."

April nodded. "Well, thanks for the warning Michael."

She was about to turn away from him when Michael grabbed her arm and swung her back to face him again.

"You don't understand," Michael said quickly, "You need me."

"I can take care of myself," April retorted. "I've been hunting for ten years; I'm thirty, I'm not a green horn anymore. So I suggest you leave."

She jerked her arm out of Michael's grasp and marched away.

Michael felt like cursing. How was he going to be able to guard April if she wouldn't accept his protection?