"I can't believe we have another cannibal." Angela sighed, obviously not happy with the fact.

Hodgins put his arm around her reassuringly. "Don't worry, we'll catch them. It won't take as long this time." His voice sounded reassuring, but there was a faint look in his eyes that showed that he wasn't entirely sure himself, and was saying that to convince both of them. The first cannibal they had ever dealt with had been easy, but the second far harder. Gormogon was still the main focus of some of their nightmares.

"Of course we will." Brennan stated matter-of-factly, obviously confused at the scared looks all of her friends held. Turning away she looked back at the skull she held. "There seems to be some particulates around the wound... Staining suggests that whatever the victim was struck with caused a killing blow."

At the mention of particulates Hodgins walked over to the body, removing his arms from Angela's shoulders. He looked carefully at the bits of metal, then grabbed a pair of tweezers and gently plucked up the particulates and placed them on a petri-like container. "It looks like a steel." He observed. "But I'll run it through the Mass Spec so that we're absolutely sure." He left the platform to go to his office, his eyes focused on the substance in the container.

"Cam, you can have access to the flesh. Give the bones to Mr. Nigel-Murray when you're finished." Brennan pulled off her gloves and followed Hodgins off the platform. After a second thought she turned around. "Angela, how long will you be needing the skull once it's cleaned?"

Angela thought for a minute before replying. "It depends on if you want me to draw it, or reconstruct it digitally. I can do it on the computer so Vincent can have the skull faster."

Brennan nodded. "Just make sure not to damage the skull." At this point she was walking away, going to her office.


"How much time has passed?" Dean asked, halting in his consistent pacing and looking at Sam and the slightly frightened hunters crowded around the interrogation room.

"Calm down Dean." Sam told him, a bit of annoyance in his tone and on his face. "We have to wait until morning. And be chill, they'll be suspicious if you keep acting like that."

Dean, still agitated, sat in one of the chairs in the interrogation room. Seconds after he did so the door opened, and in stepped Booth. He held multiple files, appearing to have at least one for each hunter in the room. He examined the group, who were doing the same to him. He was cool and calculating, with no sign of weakness. All of the hunters decided that he wouldn't be a great enemy to make. Sam and Dean, of course, already knew this because of all of their previous encounters.

"Just the man I was hoping to talk to." Booth smiled and sat in the chair opposite Dean. "Now, how did you know the victim?" Booth set down a picture of Neal on the table.

"We told you, we were friends!" Sam replied. He didn't like the same questions being asked twice, so this agent was positively getting on his nerve. It never crossed his mind that Agent Booth was now aware of the fact that is brother was wanted by the FBI, for murder nonetheless.

Booth glanced at Sam, not even phased, before returning his gaze to Dean. Dean, in his turn, returned a glare."I asked him." Booth said evenly.

Sam joined his brother in glaring back at him.

"Like he said, we were friends." Dean said icily. He was obviously not at all happy with the situation.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Booth asked, selecting an abnormally large file from the stack. He set it on the table in front of him - closed. It didn't need to be opened yet, not until the time was right and he had asked the appropriate questions.

"Uh, I don't know. Why in **** would I know that?" Dean answered.

"About a month ago." Sam's reply came almost immediately after Dean finished speaking. Dean looked over at him, an eyebrow partly raised in question. Sam shrugged, suddenly feeling like he was a bit of a nerd for knowing that. After his response Dean shook his head slightly before turning back to Booth.

"What he said, I suppose."

Booth looked at the two of them carefully. "Do you two always go everywhere together? Or do you have social encounters without the other with you?"

Dean just about snarled, his glare deepening. "Why yes, we do." His voice was dripping with acid and the distaste that he felt towards Agent Booth. While Dean's judgement was clouded by his anger, Sam was beginning to worry. There was something about the way Booth was holding himself. The way his jaw was set, the gears that were obviously moving behind his eyes. He knew something. And it made him hate his brother, probably him too. He was leading up to something he had planned. His eyes widened when he realized what.

"Dean. Can we talk a second?" The words came out before he could stop them, and Booth's face looked towards him. "I mean, if it's okay with Agent Booth of course," he added quickly with a smile that was a mix of embarrassment and apology.

"Go ahead, I'll be right here." Booth leaned back a bit and folded his arms. Dean got out of the chair and he and Sam pushed to the back of the interrogation room.

"What is it, Sam?" Dean asked, his anger subsiding since he was talking to Sam and not Booth.

"He knows, Dean. I can tell. He has to know! I mean, he is FBI!"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down. What are you talking about? What does he know?" He was serious now, knowing that his brother had realized something important while he had been arguing with the FBI agent.

"Dude! He found the record that says you... Killed someone." He said that part in a whisper, angling his head away from the other hunters who had made room for them. Then he raised his voice just a touch, though it was still quiet. "It's the only explanation. He thinks you killed Neal, because he thinks you're a murderer."