Untitled KF:TLC/SPN

Peter Caine looked up from the sobbing young woman in front of him at the sound of the door opening and motioned his head to a room to the side of the main room. He turned his attention back to the woman who's hands he held.

"It will be okay, Mai. I promise you. The police will find the person who did this and your pain will ease eventually. But I will always be here to talk to.” He placed his right hand on her bowed head. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?" Her head moved in a slight nod. "Good. If you don't feel comfortable there you can always come back here. I'll have a room ready for you."

Mai ran a hand over her face before she looked up at him. "Thank you, Master Caine. My family will want you to preside over my brother's funeral. I don't know when that would be though-" Peter stopped her rambling with a raised hand.

"Now is not the time to think of such things. Tomorrow will be soon enough. Tonight you need to think of yourself. Go to where you are staying. Get as much sleep as you can. Let your family support you. I'll be by tomorrow afternoon. Then we will talk about what you wish to happen." Peter gracefully rose to his feet.

He held out his hand and helped Mai stand. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he guided her to the door. "The officer outside will take you to where ever you want to go." He took her shoulders and gently turned her towards him. "You have my phone number. Feel free to call me at anytime. I don't need much sleep." He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "Rest, Mai." He pulled a small bottle with two home-made pills in it out of his pocket. "If you can't sleep, take one of these."

She took the bottle with a sad smile. "Thank you." Peter opened the door and watched as the police officer guided her to the back seat of his cruiser. He gave the officer a nod and turned back inside his building. He locked the door with a sigh and then headed to the room that his visitor had vanished into.

"It's amazing how much like your father you are starting to sound like, Pete," the visitor said as he turned to face the Shaolin priest.

"It's what people expect of their priest. It makes them more comfortable. Tell me that there was something new this time, Kermit. Tell me that you guys are closer to find the bastard responsible for killing my people."

Peter stared straight into the dark green sunglasses that Kermit was known for.

Kermit Griffin's shoulder slumped as he leaned back against the wall. "I really wish I could tell you that, Kid. I really do, but this scene looks like all the others. Who ever did this left us nothing."

Peter sighed and walked over to one of the reed mats before sinking down in a lotus position. "The people in Chinatown are scared. More scared than I've seen them in a very long time. They come to me asking for something to keep the demon out of their home so that one of their family doesn't become the next victim."

Kermit grimaced and ran his hand over his mouth. "What do you tell them?"

Peter shrugged in a manner that closely resembled his father. "That there's nothing I can give them that can make them safe. I'm hear for them to talk to, but I can't prevent this person from killing people."

"We're doing all we can, Pete. I promise you that."

"I know you are, Kermit. I have no doubt of that, but this guy isn't leaving you anything to work with. I can feel him though. The evil in his soul is covering Chinatown with a black soot."

If it had been anyone other than Peter or his father saying something like that, Kermit would have rolled his eyes and looked for the guys in white coats, but he'd seen enough from the two of them to know that Peter wasn't just being metaphorical. "You don't think he's a normal person do you?"

Peter raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you? Do you think that a normal person can kill a person without a mark on the body? Can remove all of the blood from the body and paint the walls with it, without a single puncture wound or slice?"

Kermit sighed. "No. No I really don't." These were the times when he really missed the days when he was just working behind the computer, when he was out of the field. "Don't take this the wrong way, but have you heard from your father?"

Peter gave him a wry smile. "Don't worry. There's no way I'd take that wrong. He called me three days ago. He's on his way back. Should be back here by the weekend. I can't even tell you how relieved I was to hear that he was coming, this is so far out of my expertise. I really wish the Ancient was still alive. I could use a Shambala Master right about now."

"Your father used a phone?" Kermit asked in shock.

Peter laughed. "Yeah, shocked me too, but he called. Seems that somewhere along the line he actually got a cell phone."

Kermit shook his head before he stood up straight. "I should really get back. Just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. The girl that was in here?"

"She's Mai Tsun. The latest victim's wife. Her brother found the body."

"I really am sorry, Pete. I wish we had more to go on."

Peter rose to his feet and grasped Kermit's shoulder. "I know, my friend. I've never doubted that."


Samuel Winchester stuck the key into the lock of the motel room. He kicked the door open and managed to catch one of the cups of soda that had started to slide with his chin while he grabbed the other with his right hand. "Hey! You wanna help here?"

The soda under his chin and one of the bags of food was plucked from his grasp. He kicked the door closed and looked at his brother who had wasted no time in digging through the bag. Dean's face twisted into a grimace as he pushed the bag towards the other side of the table. "I think I grabbed your bag." He reached out to take the other bag from Sam's grasp.

Sam pulled the bag away and held it out of Dean's reach. "Nope. I got you a salad. I figured that since you had a nice new body with no scars or plaque in your arteries you might want to keep it that way," Sam replied with an evil grin.

"Very funny, Sam. Fork over the burger." Sam waited for a moment before tossing the bag to Dean. Dean dug into the bag and pulled out a handful of fries that he jammed into his mouth. "Ah, that's the stuff."

Sam winced at the sight of the half chewed food in Dean's mouth and turned his attention to his salad. He hadn't really wanted a salad but the opportunity to tease his older brother was something that he couldn't let pass by. He had gotten a chef salad though, so the meat and egg should help.

They both ate in silence and once they were done Sam looked over at the laptop set up on table next to them. "Find anything?"

Dean sucked down the last of his soda before nodding. "Yeah, I think so. There have been some odd murders in Sloaneville, New York." Dean reached over and turned the laptop around. "Seems that four members of the Chinatown community have been killed in some odd ways. The police aren't talking, but I did a little hacking and it seems that the bodies are drained of blood and the blood is used to make decorations on the walls."

"Serial killer?" Sam asked, playing Devil's Advocate.

"Only if serial killers have found ways to remove all of the blood while leaving no wounds. No punctures or cuts. The ME is stumped on how the blood is being removed from the body."

Sam took a moment to do a quick scan of the articles and reports. He looked back at Dean. "Looks like we're going to Sloanville."


Peter Caine left the house of Mai's parents and walked two blocks down the street to where he'd parked his car. People still expected Buddhist Priests to walk everywhere and Peter had to admit that he did walk a lot more than he had when he'd been a Detective, but for long distances he still preferred his car.

He ran his hand over his face. He hated officiating at funerals. The pain and grief that the living felt was almost overwhelming, but as the only Buddhist priest in the surrounding counties he'd been called on to perform that function far too often. It was even worse when the dead had been victims of violence.

He turned the corner and saw Kermit leaning against the passenger's side door. "Hey, Kermit," he sighed.

"Hello, Master Caine," Kermit responded with a grin.

Peter rolled his eyes. "You can cool it with that. It's gotten a little old. It's been ten years."

"It'll never get old."

Peter shook his head and leaned against his car next to the Detective. "I saw you and Jody at the funeral. Did you see anything suspicious?"

Kermit shook his head. "Unfortunately not. It was just what you would expect a funeral to be like. No one stood out as being out of place or acting strangely. What about you?"

"No. I don't think the killer was there. I didn't feel anything."

"So only a couple of days until your father gets here, huh?" Kermit asked nonchalantly.

Peter snorted and gave him a knowing look. "No faith, even after all these years you have no faith in me."

"It's not that," Kermit started to argue.

"I know," Peter interrupted. "Believe me, I can't wait until he gets here too. It'll be good to see him after thirteen months of him wandering around. I'm good, but he's better."

"He's just more practiced. You haven't had much opportunity to work out those psychic powers of yours." Peter frowned at Kermit and the older man just grinned at him. "I know, I know, it's not psychic powers, it's finely honed skills that takes many years to master."

"Why am I still friends with you?" Peter groused.

"I have no idea. Have you talked to Anne lately?"

Peter blinked at the change of subject. "Yeah, I called her Tuesday. I'm meeting her for lunch tomorrow. Paul will be with her. Caroline and Kelly might also be able to make it. It'll be a nice reunion."

"Give the family a hug for me will you?"

Peter gave him an evil smile. "Mom said that I was to drag you with me. Dad agreed. He said it's been too long since you'd come by."

Kermit straightened and stepped up on the sidewalk. "Oh no. I've got too much to do. I don't have time for lunch with your family."

Peter pulled his keys out of his pocket and winked at Kermit. "So lunch is going to be at the house. We are expected to be there by 12:30." He walked around to the driver's side. "See you there." He hopped into the car and in a smooth motion put on his seatbelt, cranked the ignition and pulled away from the curb. He looked into his rear-view mirror and laughed at Kermit who stood on the sidewalk with his hands on his hips.


The next day found Peter grinning as Kermit's green Corvair pulled up to the curb. The door opened and "Shut your mouth, Caine," drifted out of the car.

"I thought you were too busy?" Peter asked.

"And I thought I told you to shut up," Kermit grumbled as he walked towards Peter.

"Don't let mom hear you say that to me. She won't be happy with you."

"She would completely understand." Peter turned to grin at the woman who had come out on the porch.

"But I thought I was your favorite," Peter whined. He was fairly sure that behind her sunglasses she was rolling her eyes.

"Yes, you do like to think that." Anne Blaisdale held her hand out to Kermit. "I'm glad you could make it. Paul's been complaining that you've forgotten he's still alive."

Kermit loped up the stairs to grasp her hand and tuck it into his elbow. "I would never forget that he's still alive. It's just been extremely busy at the precinct. I have missed seeing your lovely face however."

Anne grinned up at him. "I'd say the same, but well."

"We know, mom. At least you've stopped calling yourself the blind chick," Peter said as he joined them on the porch.

"Well, it's just not the way things are done in this decade is it? I will have you know, I'm very hip."

Peter and Kermit grinned at each other as they followed her into the house. Anne pushed them into the study. "Go talk with Paul. He wants to be in the know." She headed off towards the kitchen. "Lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes," she called back.

"What are we having?" Kermit asked.

Peter shrugged. "Does it matter? Any thing she makes is gonna be good."

"Oh yeah," Kermit replied with his trademark line.

The entered the room and Peter sat down on the couch next to an older man. "It's about time you showed up, Kermit," Paul Blaisdale said with a scowl. "Did you forget that the stroke didn't kill me?"

"Of course not, Paul. I was just waiting for you to regain some strength. I wouldn't want to tax you too much, old man."

Paul struggled to his feet and grasped Kermit's hand. "It's good to see you, old friend," he said with a smile. Three months after the stroke he was almost back to normal. His right side was still a bit weaker then the left, but if you didn't look closely you'd never see it.

"Good to see you on your feet. I had planned on visiting last week but work got crazy."

Paul nodded. "Peter's been keeping me up to date with what's going on in Chinatown. He said there's no leads."

Kermit shook his head. "I'm afraid not." Kermit sighed and sat down in one of the wingback chairs. "We are at a dead end in the case. If Pete and his father can't come up with something, then we have to hope that with the next one, he'll make a mistake that we can use to find him."

"That has to be driving you all crazy," Paul said, taking a seat back on the couch next to his foster-son.

"It is." Kermit sat forward. "You've never seen anything as horrifying as those scenes, Paul. Even with everything we've seen as mercenaries. The victims have such a terrified look on their faces."

"Well, you'll figure it out. It might take whatever weird powers Peter and his father have, but you'll find the bastard."

"They are not weird powers," Peter protested.

Paul and Kermit ignored him as they continued to talk. Peter sat back with a frown but it couldn't last. He started to smile as his friend pulled his dad out of his shell. "I'll leave you two to insult me and my beliefs. I'm gonna go see if Mom needs help."


Dean pulled into a parking spot at a no name motel. Sam had gone inside the office to rent a room. He looked around and attempted to ignore the women on the sidewalk who were trying to get his attention. He wasn't in the mood for a quickie. Especially one that cost $15.

The passenger's door opened and the car tilted slightly as his 6'5”, heavily muscled little brother climbed back into the car. "They say they don't have any vacancies," Sam said.

Dean snorted. "Yeah they are probably all rented out by the hour." He put the Impala in reverse and pulled out of the spot. "So any idea where our next best chance is?"

"Yeah, guy said if we turn left at the next light, a couple of blocks down is another place that should have rooms."

Dean followed the directions and pulled into the parking lot of a hotel that looked to be slightly higher quality. There were no obvious prostitutes on the sidewalk. Sam got out and Dean put the car in park. He wasn't going to bother pulling into a parking spot this time. This was the fourth motel that they'd tried. Apparently there was some "conference" in town this week and all of the low rent rooms were taken.

Sam stepped out of the office and held up two keys. He waved Dean over to the left. Dean leaned over and rolled down the window. "What room?"

"Twelve. It's around the back. I'm gonna go get some stuff at the gas station." Sam tossed one of the keys into the car. "I'll meet you there."

Dean rolled the window back up and drove to the back of the motel. He easily found room twelve and backed into the parking spot in front of the room. He got out and unlocked the door to the room. He took a quick look around the room and then wedged the door open with a chair as he hauled their gear into the room.

Once all of the bags were in the room he shut the door and started the long task of protecting the room from any supernatural creature that might cause them harm. Salt went along the window sills, across the door jam, sigils were pasted to the wall. Then there was the protection against human enemies. Knives and guns where hidden around the room. After the protections were finished he started tacking up the papers that related to their current case. The newspaper articles went in one location, police and morgue reports went to another. Maps and lore went to a third.

Sam returned in the middle of Dean posting up the papers and he tossed Dean a pile of maps. Dean sifted through them before finding the one that had the most detailed view of Chinatown. While Dean finished with the papers, Sam set up the laptop and logged into the Sloanville police and morgue networks to check on any further developments.

Dean dropped down into the chair across from him. "Anything?"

"No, it seems to have been quiet. But between each of the victims it's been five days. We're on day four now."

"So tomorrow some poor bastard's gonna bite it."

Sam nodded. "Unless we can stop it."

Dean got to his feet and pulled out a garment bag from the closet. "I think it's time for the FBI to pay a visit to some of the locations."


Peter looked up from the herbs that he was mixing for a woman who was suffering from arthritis. The tea that she could brew from them would help to ease her symptoms until she could get up enough money to pay for a visit to a doctor. He waved his visitor into the room. "What can I do for you, Cho?"

Cho bowed to Peter before guiding an elderly woman into the room. "Grandmother asked me to come. There are men claiming to be from the FBI asking questions. Grandmother says that they are questions that are strange from government agents."

"I have watched enough police shows to know what questions FBI asks. They asked few of those type and many of ones that would not be asked," she added in Chinese.

Peter set down the bowl and gave his full attention to the woman. "What kind of questions?"

"Questions such as in the days before my son was killed, did we have any electrical issues. Lights flickering. Have we seen strange things, or heard odd noises. Did we bring anything new into the house. Not questions about seeing people we did not know around the house."

Peter frowned. They didn't sound like FBI type questions and he was fairly certain that if the feds had gotten involved Kermit would have let him know. The precinct knew that he liked to be aware of who might be asking questions in Chinatown.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Do you know if they've talked to the other families?"

"No, they asked if we knew where the other families lived," Cho responded.

"Did they speak Chinese?"

Cho shook his head. "No, I had to translate for Grandmother." Cho held out a card. "They gave us this."

Peter took the card and looked it over. It looked official with the FBI seal and an office number. "Agents John Wetton and Steve Howe?" Cho nodded in response. "Thank you. I'll call my contacts and let you know what I find out."

"Thank you, Master Caine." Cho and his grandmother left the room and Peter stared at the card for a moment before getting to his feet. He grabbed his keys from the table and flipped his sign around to alert the people who might be looking for him that he was out. He climbed into his car and headed for the police station.


Peter looked around the Precinct with a small smile. The tables and chairs had been upgraded sometime within the last decade and there was now a computer at ever desk, but other than that it looked almost the same as the day he turned in his badge to become the Shaolin Priest for Chinatown.


Peter turned and barely had time to brace himself before he was wrapped up in a tight embrace. "Good to see you too, Mary Margaret," he choked out.

"It's been too long." She released him and stepped back.

"We had lunch last weekend," he argued.

"Yeah, but that was out there. Not in here. It's been ages since you've been in the precinct," she complained.

"I know. I've just been so busy. When Dad was here he had Lo Si's help, but since he died I've been trying to do the work of two Priests."

"I heard it through the grapevine that Kwai was coming back to town."

Peter nodded. "Should be here tomorrow."

Mary Margaret shrugged. "Maybe he'll stick around this time."

Peter grinned at her attempt at nonchalant. "Maybe he will." The relationship between his father and Mary Margaret had deepened after his father had returned from Europe on a failed attempt to track down his thought to be long dead wife and Peter's mother. The picture that they had been given had been faked and had been an attempt by enemies to draw Kwai Chang Caine out of his familiar areas to make it easier to kill him. Peter couldn't help but think that it was a good thing they never seemed to learn from their past efforts and the attempt had failed.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to speak with the official liaison to Chinatown."

Mary Margaret snorted. "Kermit's in his office. Like always."

"Thanks." Peter pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before heading to the back of the room. He gave the closed door a sharp knock before opening it.

"I didn't say you could come in," Kermit snapped out, not looking up from his computer.

"I thought you said your door was always open for me?"

Kermit looked up and grinned. "For you, yeah. For those other idiots out there, hell no. Get your ass in here."

Peter entered the office and shut the door behind him.

"So what brings you to the 101st?"

"This." Peter handed Kermit the card from the FBI agents. "Ping Hi's mother and nephew came to see me today. They said two FBI agents had come by and were asking some odd questions. Has the FBI taken an interest in the case?"

Kermit looked over the card and shook his head. "No, we haven't heard a peep from them." He held up the card. "The agents were claiming to be named John Wetton and Steve Howe?"

"Yeah. Cho confirmed it for me. Why?"

"Wetton and Howe were the bassist and lead guitarist for the band Asia."

Peter stared at the card for a moment. "Seriously?"

Kermit nodded. "Howe was also the lead guitarist for Yes."

"So I'm guessing we aren't really dealing with FBI agents."

"I'd say not. But in the off chance of really strange and odd things happening, I'll give my FBI connection a call and check up on these two."

"Thanks, Kermit."

"You want to stick around. It shouldn't take long."

"I think I will."


Dean rested his arms on the roof of the Impala. "You getting the feeling that FBI agents might not have been the best way to go about this?"

Sam leaned against the car next to him. "I guess it's not really a big surprise. Closed society, a lot of the members don't speak English and they have reason not to trust government officials given where they are from. The police probably don't have much luck here either."

"So how are we supposed to find out any information that might lead to whatever's killing these people."

"I guess we do it the old fashioned way. Research." Sam straightened up. "I'll head to the library, see if they have any history of the area. Maybe it's happened in the past."

Dean sighed. "I'll head back to the room. Do some research on Asian boogeymen."

Sam clapped him on the back. "I'll bring dinner back with me."

"No salads," Dean ordered.


Peter stood in the doorway of the Tsun family home. He looked over the two men claiming to be FBI agents He'd asked the Tsun family to pretend that they didn't speak English and that he was their translator. They hadn't completely understood why but they were willing to go along with their priest's request.

"Please, come in Agents. They ask that you be patient with them. They don't speak English very well. I'm a family friend and I can translate for you. My name is Peter."

The two "agents" looked at each other and shrugged. "Thank you for your willingness to help," the taller of the two, Wetton, said. "We know this is a difficult time and we don't want to make it any worse but any information that they might provide might help us find out who's doing this."

Peter translated and waited a few moments while Mai responded. "She said that she doesn't know what more she can tell you that she hasn't told the police, but if it might help find out who killed her husband she is willing to talk to you." Peter stepped back from the door and waved them into the house. "Can we get you anything? Tea, coffee, or water?"

"No, thank you," the other "agent," Howe, said, looking around.

Peter led them into the living room. Mai took a seat on the couch and Peter sat next to her. The two "agents" sat down in the chairs across the coffee table. "What can we help you with?"

"Wetton" sat forward and looked at Mai. "First let me offer my sincere condolences on the death of your husband. I know what it's like to lose someone so important to you."

Peter translated once more. "Thank you. It means a great deal to know that one who is working on my husband's case knows the pain."

"Howe" gave the other man a concerned look before focusing his attention back on his notebook. "Before your husband was killed, had you noticed anything strange happening? Lights flickering, odd sounds that hadn't been there before, shadows, items that weren't where you left them?"

Mai frowned as Peter translated. Peter gave her a slight nod and then she responded. "No. Nothing like that. It was quiet. The only odd noises were from the cat."

"Did you buy anything antique recently? Were you given anything old?"

Peter had to give the fake agents some credit. They looked at Mai as they asked their questions instead of the translator. Many people in Peter's experience started to ignore the person the were really asking the questions and focused on the person they could understand.

"No. Nothing that hasn't been in the family for many generations. The last thing we added to to house was January of last year."

Howe looked up from his note taking. "I really hate to ask this, but is it okay if I use your restroom?"

Peter nodded and pointed down the hall. "Third door on the left."


Wetton waited until his partner was out of the room before continuing his questioning. "Had anyone threatened your husband lately? Even with little silly things like curses or something goofy that you might think was no big deal?"

"No, my husband was well liked. No one would threaten my husband." Peter took a breath and added to Mai's answer. "Agent Wetton, while this family might have moved out of the Chinatown district, they are still very much traditional Chinese. They wouldn't take a curse lightly. They would have reported it to the police."

Wetton looked directly at Peter. "Would they have? Knowing that the police wouldn't take it seriously?"

Peter grinned. "I think you'd be surprised about what the police take seriously in this city." The sound of a floorboard creaking upstairs caused them all to look up.

"Mrs. Tsun said there was a cat right? I'm sure it's nothing," Wetton said quickly.

Peter was about to stand when the the sound of the toilet flushing and running water started. Howe returned a moment later. He gave Wetton a look and the other "agent" stood up.

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Tsun, Peter. If we have any further questions we'll be in touch." Wetton handed Mai a card that matched the one Cho had given Peter. "If you think of anything, please give us a call."

Peter led them to the door and held out his hand. "Thank you for taking an interest in the case. The more people working it, the great chance it has of being solved." He shook the Agents hands and with a quick slight of hand slid a tracker in Wetton's suit pocket and a small microphone in Howe's.

The Agents gave Mai what appeared to be a sincere thank you and once again offered their condolences before walked out to what looked to be a black '67 Chevy Impala in mint condition. "That's not your typical bureau car," Peter muttered.

"Oh yeah," Kermit replied behind him. Peter quickly shut the door.

"Did you get all that?"

Kermit nodded. "Yup. Shall we go listen to what our two faux agents are talking about?"

Peter grinned. "Let's." Peter leaned down and gave Mai a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for doing that and for letting us invade your house like this."

"If this can help to find out who killed my husband, then I would do anything you asked, Master Caine," Mai replied in flawless English.

Peter made his way to the utility room where Kermit had set up shop. "So what are they discussing?"

Kermit grinned and flipped the switch to send the audio through the speakers.

"So did you find anything?" "Wetton" asked.

"No. Nothing lit up. If what ever killed him is in that house, it's either real quiet at the moment, or has moved on to it's next victim. I searched upstairs and down. Only place I didn't go was the utility room. Door was locked and I didn't think I had time to pick it," "Howe" answered.

"Good choice. Also a good choice to come back down when you did. After you stepped on the squeaky floorboard, the translator looked like he was about to go searching."

"Figured he might."

There was silence for a moment before "Howe" spoke again. "So, our research didn't find anything, searching the victim's homes didn't find anything. I hate to say it, Sam but I think we are stumped on this one."

"You must not give up," a new voice said.

The sound of squealing tires sounded before "Howe" snapped. "Jesus Christ, Cas! Give a guy some warning before you pop in!"

"Do not take the Lord's name in vain, Dean," Cas responded sounding more than a little grumpy.

Peter and Kermit looked at each other. "Did you see anyone else in the car?" Kermit asked.

"No. You?" Peter responded. Kermit shook his head. "Did they stop and pick him up?"

Kermit looked at the computer. "Nope. They haven't seven stopped for a red light since they left here."

"So where did this guy come from?"

"Why are you here?" Sam's voice came from the speakers.

"The murders that you are investigating. They are related to a Seal, if you don't stop the murders Hell will be one step closer."

"Shit," Dean cursed. "You've got to be kidding me? We're dealing with murders that we can't figure out and your telling us that if we don't stop it we're screwed. Great. I don't suppose that you've got anything helpful to tell us?"

"Only that these murders don't directly affect the Seal. They are an attempt to draw out the ones that are truly part of the Seal."

"Great, that's super helpful. Let me guess, you can't do anything to help. At least tell me Chuckles isn't going to show up anytime soon."

"If you mean Uriel, no. He's busy trying to protect another Seal that is under attack."

"Well, we can be thankful for something."

"Castiel," Sam's voice broke in. "What can you tell us about the Seal? You said that these murders were just to draw out the real people. Who are they?"

"I am uncertain, Sam. We are still trying to find out information but it has been a little, busy. If we find out anything I will let you know."

"Cas-. Dammit! That son of a bitch vanishes faster than a keg at a frat party," Dean growled.

"Dean, if Castiel is right, and this is a Seal-"

"I know, Sam. I know."

Peter and Kermit kept the sound on but the rest of the drive was silent. "Okay, they've pulled into the parking lot of Joe's Travel Motel. I'll send an unmarked to keep an eye on them." Kermit looked at Peter. "I don't suppose you managed to sneak a picture of them did you?"

Peter held out his smart phone. "I can't do much on this monstrosity you gave me, but I did figure out how to do that."

Kermit took the phone and downloaded the picture. "Let's see if we can find out who these two are." Kermit typed in some instructions into the laptop and then started breaking down the equipment. "By the time we get back to the Precinct, we should have an answer."


Once they returned to the Precinct Peter and Kermit shut themselves up in Kermit's office with orders that they weren't to be disturbed. Kermit fired up his monster of a computer and logged into the system.

"Got anything?" Peter asked.

"Oh yeah," Kermit replied, looking at Peter over the top of his sunglasses. "And it's very, very interesting."

Peter walked around behind him and leaned over his shoulder as he paged through the file on Dean and Sam. "What'cha got?" Dean and Sam's pictures were displayed predominately at the top of the page.

"Well, it seems that our fake Agents are named Dean and Sam Winchester. They're brothers. Deans older by four years. Their mom, Mary, was killed in a house fire when Dean was four and Sam was six months. They were raised by their father, John, who moved around quite a bit. John was on an FBI watch list as a possible extremist, militia type.

"Despite being moved around, Sam managed to get a full ride to Stanford where he made very good grades and was about to start at Law School when his long-term girlfriend, Jessica was killed in a house fire."

"Mother and girlfriend both killed in house fires. Anything suspicious about the fires?" Peter questioned.

Kermit shook his head. "Both were labeled as electrical fires. Inspectors found nothing that concerned them. Apparently while Sam was in college, Dean followed in his father's footsteps. Traveling the country. Seems that an FBI Agent Hendrickson managed to connect places that they traveled to with some grave desecration, credit card fraud, and murders."

"Murders? A family of serial killers?"

Kermit shrugged. "Hendrickson never outright says that they were responsible for them. He just mentions that deaths seem to follow them. So, after the girlfriend's death Sam appears to hook back up with Dean. Dad drops out of sight. Hedrickson seems to think that he dies during this time."

Kermit reared back. "Oh this is very interesting. Seems that Dean was ID'd as the killer in a pretty vicious serial killer case. One of the victims managed to survive and clearly pointed her finger at him. He was then killed when he tried to go back and finish the job."

"He's dead? He sure didn't look or sound dead to me."

"Yeah, Hedrickson mentions that he has no explination for how Dean was killed, autopsied and cremated and then shows up with his brother at a bank robbery in Milwaukee. They managed to escape, but then about a year later they are caught by by the police in Monument, Colorado. Hendrickson showed up and reported that the helicopter he had brought in to take the Winchesters to a federal jail exploded and killed them both. Not long after making the report he and everyone else in the jail were killed."

"What the hell. These guys have nine lives or something?"

"I don't know, but I'm thinking we need to get these two behind bars. I don't know if they are responsible for what's been happening in Chinatown, but I'd feel a lot better about it if I knew they weren't wandering the streets." Kermit sat back and gave Peter a grave look.

Peter nodded. "Bring lots of backup."

"Oh yeah."


Dean and Sam had changed back into their regular clothes and were seated around the table looking through their papers. "Are you seeing anything we missed?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "No. Nothing." He threw the papers onto the table. "I just don't see how we're supposed to figure this out with the info we have. We need more."

Dean rose to his feet and pulled a couple of beers out of the small fridge and tossed one to Sam. He sat down on the bed and twisted the cap off. He stared at it a moment before taking a large swallow.

Sam turned in his chair and faced him. "You aren't sleeping well again. You woke me up with your nightmares a couple times last night."

Dean grunted and refused to look at him. "Then why don't you get your own room then?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. You need to talk about it."

"I don't need to talk about anything. Leave it alone."

Sam's response was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. "Police! Open up!"

Dean and Sam both dove for cover and for their hidden weapons when the door was slammed open by a battering ram and police poured in through the opening.

"Hands up! Put your hands up!"

Dean and Sam raised their hands and did not resist as they were dragged from the floor besides the beds and pushed down on their stomachs. They were quickly frisked and the weapons that they had hidden on their bodies were found and placed out of reach.

"Sam and Dean Winchester you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent." A cop with salt and pepper hair and green sunglasses continued to read them their Miranda rights as their hand were handcuffed behind them. They were helped up to their knees and they both kept their eyes on the ground in front of them.

"Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?"

Dean stared up at the cop in defiance while Sam kept his gaze on the ground. The cop motioned to the officers next to them and they brought them up to sit on the cleared bed furthest from the door.

"Are you willing to talk or do you want a lawyer?" The cop sighed when they refused to answer. "Okay, fine. We'll play this the hard way." He turned to the officer standing at the door. "Go get Caine. I want him to take a look around this place."

"Yes, Sir." The officer returned after only a few moments with another man. Dean and Sam looked at each other in surprise as they recognized Peter, the translator from the visit with the last victim's family.

"You wanted me, Kermit?" Peter asked. He gave the brothers a brief look before turning his attention to the cop.

Dean looked over a Sam with a raised eyebrow. The cop's name was Kermit? Seriously? Sam just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Yeah, take a look around. See if there's anything that stands out to you."

Peter nodded and started digging through the drawers and bags. "I think you need a warrant to look through our stuff," Sam protested.

Kermit pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and held it in front of Sam. "There's your warrant all crisp and clean from the printer." He dropped it onto the table. He picked up one of the pieces of research they had spread out. "Pete, take a look at this stuff."

Dean looked over at Sam and sighed. Sam frowned and shrugged. They both knew it was only a matter of time before the cops started to ask if they had mental problems or if they were sick.

Peter joined Kermit at the table and they started going through the rest of the papers. Finally Peter held one of the papers up. "You guys didn't really think it was a hopping ghost did you?"

Dean decided to play along. "We thought it might be at first, but nothing fit right."

Peter shook his head. "No, a fox spirit would be more likely but even that wouldn't work."

Dean stared at him in surprise and Peter grinned at him. "What? You weren't expecting me to believe you?"

"Cops usually don't."

Peter shrugged. "Well, I'm not a cop anymore."

"Hold on, Pete. You don't think something supernatural did this, do you?"

Peter turned back to Kermit. "What else could do it? All the blood removed with no way of getting it out of the body. It was really our only option."

Kermit sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Great, so what are we dealing with more Sing Wah bullshit? Some mystic artifact that's some how managed to make its way here?"

Peter looked back down at the paper he held. "I don't know." He looked at Dean and Sam. "But they might be able to help us. They've managed to do a hell of a lot more research than I have."

"Peter, they are wanted criminals, we can't just let them work with us," Kermit protested.

"Actually, we're not wanted anymore," Dean interjected.

"Yeah, well you will be once the FBI finds out you aren't really dead," Kermit snapped.

"That might not be a wise idea. There are things hunting them that could use the assistance of the government to find them."

Everyone in the room turned to look at the man who had spoken.

"Pop!" Peter exclaimed as he hurried over to the man standing in the doorway. "You're here." He embraced the man who cupped Peter's face in his hands.

"Did I not tell you I was coming back, my son?" the man asked. He was older, in his 70s on that, long thin grey hair brushed his shoulders. He was dressed in a simple shirt, trousers, and sandals.

"Yeah, but I was expecting to see you at the apartment not at a sleazy motel where we were arresting two possible suspects."

Kermit stepped forward. "It's good to see you again, Caine." He held out his hand which Caine took between his.

"It is good to see you as well, Kermit." Caine looked at Peter. "I see you have done an excellent job in taking care of my son."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm a Shaolin Priest. I think I can take care of myself."

Caine and Kermit ignored him. "I do alright. You know he's not the easiest person to protect. How did you know we were- you know what, never mind, I'm not even going to ask."

Caine shrugged. It was obvious to even Sam and Dean where Peter had gotten the gesture from. "I knew that Peter was involved in something important and that I needed to be here." Caine turned his attention to the two handcuffed men seated on the bed. "You may release them. They did no do these horrible killings."

"We figured that, Caine, but they are still wanted for other things. Credit card fraud, other murders," Kermit protested.

Caine shook his head. "No, the fraud yes, they might have done that, but murders? No, that is not something they would do. They have killed yes, but only creatures that would harm others. No humans."

"The fraud is enough to keep them, Pop," Peter added.

"They would have need of money to buy supplies, weapons, gas for their vehicle."

"Then they could have gotten a job." Kermit glared at Caine in irritation.

Caine once again shook his head. "No, their destiny means that they will always be in the dark, in shadows. To stay long enough to get a job and raise enough money would bring even more darkness and evil upon the people that they strive to protect and save. They are much like you in their goals, but they protect from beings that even you would not believe in."

"After all I've seen, there's not much I don't believe in anymore," Kermit scoffed.

"Demons? Vampires? Werewolves?" Sam asked.

"Demons? Oh I've seen my share of demons, I know they are real. Vampires and werewolves though?" Kermit shook his head. "Those are just myth."

"They are not," Caine responded. "You have seen much during your time with my son and me, but that is only a very small percentage of what is in the dark. They have both seen much more, and they are both needed to battle the evil that hunts in Chinatown."

Caine walked over to the brothers and brushed his hand against their cuffs. They held their hands out in surprise when the cuffs fell off.

Kermit sighed and shut the door. "I don't know why I even bother to argue with either of you. You always do what you want anyway." He leaned back against the door. "Okay, why don't you show us what you've found out so far," he asked the newly freed men.

Dean and Sam looked at each other and Dean opened his mouth to tell the detective where he could go when a man dressed in a trenchcoat and suit appeared in the motel room.

Peter grabbed Kermit's hand as it shot towards his gun. "You don't want to do that, Kermit. I don't think it would end well for you."

"Castiel? Why are you here?" Sam asked haltingly as Dean stared at the new arrival in shock.

"I have information about the Seal," Castiel replied, looking only at Dean with a few side glances to Sam.

"Um, you do realize we have guests, right, Cas?" Dean asked.

Castiel turned and looked the others in the room. "Yes. That is part of the reason I appeared now. They are needed to help prevent the Seal from being broken."

Kermit stepped forward. "Okay, what the hell is going on and who the hell are you?"

"I am-"

"He's a friend of ours. Does a little magic from time to time," Dean broke in. "He's also a bit off his rocker." Dean glared at Castiel who glared back.

"No. No, he is not of this world," Caine replied.

Castiel turned to face the Shoalin Priest. "You are correct. I am an Angel of the Lord." Dean and Sam both groaned while Dean covered his face with his hand.

"Yes, I believe you are."

Everyone but Peter stared at Caine in shock. Kermit turned to Peter. "Don't tell me you believe it too."

"I'm not sure, but Pop's right. He's not human. Not entirely. I can still feel a human presence with him, but only just."

Castiel gave Peter a slight nod. "You are feeling my human vessel."

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