SG-1 was not unused to working with local experts. Every new planet they explored had an established population complete with individual beliefs. Still. It was a novel experience working on earth, in an American city, with people who might know more about the non-human entity than them.

The Winchesters were not unused to working with uniforms and feds. Granted, usually when they did it they were wearing suits and pretending to be feds as well. It was nice, working with official support without having to hide who they were. It was even nicer having friends with the authority to put out an APB on their monster of the week.

All seven of them had seen their quarry. Together, they created a police sketch artist style rendering. Within an hour of the attack, his picture was sent to every uniform patrol officer in the city and the state troopers in the area. Soon after, the sketch made its way to the local news stations with a tip hotline phone number scrolling under it.

In Sam and Dean's experience, monsters weren't smart enough to know when to cut and run. They assumed their quarry would still be nearby. In SG-1's experience, aliens like the goa'uld knew when they were in over their heads and valued their own necks to not be ashamed to scarper.

The end of the hunt turned out to be a new experience for both groups: the next morning after Carter was attacked, Kothar-wa-Khasis walked into the police station and turned himself in. Peaceably. When all both groups arrived, the guy was sitting quietly in a holding wearing clean clothes, looking a little nervous and more than a little resigned.

All in all, it was a little anticlimactic.

"What the hell?" Dean demanded of no one in particular.

The prisoner looked up at the elder brother and paled slightly. He edged back from the bars saying, "I thought I made it clear I was surrendering to the Air Force officials. What are the Winchesters doing here?"

Mitch glanced at the civilian monster hunters. "You know these two?"

"My host recognized them last night. Every pagan god still standing knows the freaking Winchesters!" he snarled, trying to not look as scared as they all knew him to be.

"Your host?" Daniel asked, with a quirk of his eyebrows. "Not you?"

"I am Kothar-wa-Khasis the skilled and cunning of the goa'uld. My host is Chusor the devourer of knowledge. He has lived on this world for centuries longer than I, eating the minds and knowledge of countless thousands. When I took his body for my own I learned everything he knew, including the existence of Hunters. It was mere chance seven years ago that he did not attend the summit and die an ignoble death."

"So, you're a monster with a creamy alien filling?" Dean laughed. "That's new."

"Actually, it makes a lot of sense." Daniel looked to his teammates. "The goa'uld are always looking for a better host. And we knew that they don't always limit themselves to humans, like with the Unas."

"Okay, so we got a goa'uld who finally found himself a super-host," Mitch drawled. "That doesn't explain why you would turn yourself in on a whim."

"A whim?" Kothar-wa-Khasis vented a bitter laugh. "Not a whim, colonel. I considered my options very carefully last night as I healed from two holes in my chest! You, SG-1, will arrest me. You'll demand information of me, and when I don't tell you everything you'll lock me away in a dark, dark hole. Until. Something worse will come, be it the Ori or something new, something will come. And you will capture one of them, and you'll need to know it's plans in order to save your precious little planet." He sneered at them. "And it won't work. Then, as you get desperate, you will remember about me and my host's ability to eat information directly from its brain. On that day, months or years from now, I will trade my freedom and safe passage off of this world for the knowledge you will so desperately seek."

"Wait a minute!" Vala exclaimed. "We're the lesser of two evils? That's ridiculous! Remind me again who killed every single last system lord, the Replicators, and the Ori. We should be the scariest people in the galaxy right now!"

The goa'uld filled monster harrumphed in derision. "If if turn myself in to the SGC, I will be inconvenienced but I will endure. Your so-called 'good nature' will one day be your undoing."

A dark smile teased in the corner's of Teal'c's mouth. "But not if we hand you over to the Winchesters."

"Winchesters!" Kothar spat, growing bolder with bars and his captors standing between them and him. "The freaking Winchesters are killers. Monsters all over this world fear them."

Carter shook her head. "I shot you fifteen times and they stabbed you twice. What kills you?"

Sam Winchester favored the monster with a vicious smile. "According to the lore I found after I got done with the museum tablet, we'd have to split his body into pieces with a holy sword,"

Dean grinned, holding up yet another angel blade. "Check."

"Grind the pieces down to dust in a mill," Sam continued.

Dean held up a mortar and pestle from his duffle bag. "Check."

"Burn them."

Gas can and matches. "Check."

"Bury the ashes in salted ground."

Shovel and road salt. "Check."

"Soak the ground in blessed oil."

Small amphora from Jerusalem. "Check."

"...and burn it all." Sam finished.

Dean flicked his zippo open and closed. "Colonels. Y'all sure you don't want to hand this thing over to us? If that doesn't work, I got a half dozen lead-lined boxes I can bury his pieces in. He may not be dead, but he sure as hell won't be a problem anymore."

Kothar-wa-Khasis lost his sneer and edged away from the brothers some more.

Cameron Mitchell looked over at Teal'c. "Suddenly, I get why this guy is more scared of them than he is of us."

"Indeed," Teal'c rumbled.

"Sorry," Carter shook her head, ignoring her teammates. "As military officers, we have a responsibility to our prisoners."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean grumped, packing away the supplies. "But if Creamy Filling over there ever gets loose, give us a call. We'll take care of it."