A/N: Yay! New Chapter! Sorry I didn't get this out yesterday, I had a football game to go to and NO time to post! Grr! Wowwee! 5 followers, 1 favorite, 3 reviews in just 2 chapters? That's sooo awesome! Sorry if I seem kinda small towny from thinkin so, but I'm so proud! Heehee! I love you guys!

Disclaimer: Neither of these wonderful creations are mine. Only the writing can I rightfully claim... D:

"Okay, fine. You can call your brother," Booth conceded, "but first you gotta clear some things up for me." Dean nodded, waiting for Booth to continue.

"You're saying your friend Cas here is an angel, and that's how he just caused a lightbulb to pop and did the disappearing act?" Booth asked.

"Boyfriend, but yeah. Any other questions, or can I call Sammy now?" Dean responded, itching to get in touch with his brother.

"One more: this killer we're dealing with is purposefully creating ghosts?" Booth asked incredulously.

"Vengeful spirits." Castiel corrected, and Booth chuckled, gesturing for Dean to go call his brother. Sweets noticed when Booth was left with the angel without Dean, he became obviously uncomfortable.

"So, Castiel. How did you meet Dean?" Sweets asked, trying to stay casual. He was intrigued as to how an angel of the lord ended up dating a fugitive.

"I raised Dean up from Hell." Castiel replied stoically, and Booth seemed to choke on air, turning to the angel.

"You did what? Why Dean?" Booth asked. Surely there was a reason the man had been in Hell.

"Dean was in Hell because he sold his soul to bring his brother back to life, Agent Booth. He went to the pit for purely righteous reasons. Dean is the righteous man and was needed to serve as the archangel Michael's vessel to fight Lucifer in the apocalypse." Castiel answered Booth's questions, both the asked and the unasked. Booth looked utterly astounded that he'd missed so much going on in the world.

"And you and Dean are… dating?" Sweets asked, insure if that was the correct term for what the two men were. Castiel simply nodded to answer Sweets's question.

"Okay, Sammy's feeling better and on his way. He was sick when I left, but it seems like it was a forty-eight hour thing, cuz it left pretty quick." Dean said, entering the interrogation room.

"Well, while we wait for your brother, we should compare notes. If I'm going to believe you." Booth suggested, directing the other men to the room where all of the info on the case was. He then ducked into the other room to grab Dr. Brennan.

"Hey Bones. So, whadya think?" Booth asked his partner when he entered the room. Brennan grimaced at something; whether that something was the nickname or the case, Booth had no idea.

"I think it's impossible. I also think that seeing as how we have no other way to explain these… phenomena at the moment, we'll just have to take their word for it. They may have information we need to help with the case, Booth." Brennan replied.

"Yeah, I think so too. I'm gonna call Max and tell him we might be late. They're all in confer

nee room C." Booth replied, and went to go call Brennan's father, who was babysitting their daughter, Christine.

Brennan went to join the men in the conference room and the Booth rejoined the group moments later. Dean whistled at the sight in front of them.

"That's quite the intel ya got there." Dean commented, and though he was being facetious, he wasn't wrong. There were three maps, a wall near full of pictures, post-it notes with cliche question marks, the whole shebang.

"Are you sure you're not the serial killer?" Dean joked, gesturing toward the spiderweb connecting the victims to laughed.

"We've essentially got nothing on this guy so far. He doesn't leave any marks except for a knife stolen from the household where the victim lived. There are never any prints, and the bodies are found outside in the nearest park. The vics are all different; we've never had two of the same race, age, height, weight, hair color… No similarities. The only pattern we've got is that half are male, half female. The body you burnt back at the lab brought the body count to four dead women, three dead men. We're expecting another male body any day now." Booth informed the crew. He was right about the victims, though. They were organized by death date.

Sally Sparrow. Caucasian, blonde, female, 5'4", 120 lbs., 16. Lived in Brooklyn, New York. Worked at a daycare for children. Stabbed directly in the heart.

Andrew Mitchell. Caucasian, brunet, male, 6'1", 190 lbs,, 40. Lived in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Worked as a heart surgeon. Stabbed directly in the heart.

Martha Jones. African American, died purple hair, female, 5'9", 140 lbs., 32. Lived in Durham, North Carolina. Worked as a police officer. Stabbed directly in the heart.

Matt Parker. African American, black colored hair, male, 5'3", 200 lbs., 48. Lived in Concord, New Hampshire. Worked as a 911 telephone operator. Stabbed directly in the heart.

Jane Schume. Indian American, died faint blue hair, female, 5'6", 130 lbs., 64. Lived in Raymond, Maine. Retired, but work as a nurse for the Red Cross. Stabbed directly in the heart.

Gabriel Gray. Indian American, died red hair, male, 6', 150 lbs., 24. Lived in Montpelier, Vermont. Worked as a firefighter. Stabbed directly in the heart.

Carrie Lynn. Asian American, black hair, female, 5'2", 120 lbs., 56. Lived in Boston, Massachusetts. Worked as an EMT. Stabbed directly in the heart.

"The age and the job…" Dean murmured, already having figured out the pattern. His brain had begun to function like that; it was crazy how easily he could pick out a killing pattern.

"What do you mean?" Booth asked, intrigued by how easily Dean had spotted something. Dean pointed at the stats in front of them.

"The ages. 16, 24, 32, 40, 48, 56, 64. All multiples of eight, leading up to eight multiplied by eight. All of them did something that saves lives. So my guess is our last vic will be an eight year old boy in the northeast who's done something heroic recently." Dean answered. Booth gaped at how easily the other man came to the conclusion.

"Why the eights?" Booth asked, curious, "And why the life saving stuff?" Dean stood for a moment, thinking.

"Maybe it's associated with some kind of demon or monster. It could be a summoning ritual. Sacrificial killings associated with eight and life saving." Dean guessed.

"The Eight Immortals." Castiel spoke up. The group turned to the solemn angel.

"Care to elaborate, Cas?" Dean pressed, obviously used to the man's crypticness. Castiel sighed, as if offended by the others's lack of knowledge.

"As Dr. Brennan knows," Cas began, earning him a smile from the woman, "The EIght Immortals are of the Taoist belief system. They have the power to bestow life. It is possible someone is trying to get their attention… Possibly draw them here to Earth."

"And that's a bad thing because?" Booth asked, "These guys sound pretty peaceful, what with the bestowing life and all."

"The perpetrator of the crimes would most likely try to engage the Immortals in a fight, ravaging the Earth. Also, the Earth would likely be overrun with returned souls because of the Immortals's kind nature. The resources would run dry. There is a reason they keep their distance." Castiel answered.

"Okay, so bad." Booth surmised, and the group murmured in agreement.

"But why are they all turning ghost?" Dean asked the angel.

"It's probable that the perpetrator is using magic to ensure that they 'go ghost', to more easily attract the Immortals's attention by desecrating the memories of the heroes as well as the heroes themselves." Castiel answered, complete with finger quotations. Dean chuckled, ashamed for the horrible timing of it.

"Okay, so a lead. Good." Booth started, interrupting himself and losing his train of thought with a yawn. Brennan yawned as well, proving that the damned things were indeed contagious.

Maybe we should meet up in the morning," Dean suggested, scribbling his number on a nearby empty piece of paper, "Here's my number. Contact us in the morning, we can meet up when Sam gets here." The rest of the group agreed vigorously, and they split up for the night to get some much needed rest.

Even Castiel was grateful; he'd gotten used to rest from spending nights with Dean curled up in his arms or curled up in Dean's.

A/N: Please Review! I love writing for you guys, and I love knowing that you guys love it too! (Not including this lil bit in the parenthesis, I wrote 1500! WOwzErz! Hahaha Sorry my chapters are so short, but I'm gonna post like one every day, maybe sometimes two a day.)