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Rachel has yet to find what useful purpose Dean serves to this world or any other. So far his driving skills, propensity for violence, and taste in music has been far outweighed by the pure annoying of his personality.

The number of punches she's dealt his shoulder has multiplied ever since she hit her head, too. Maybe Jo was attracted to men that tried to baby her but Rachel would take a monster over a concerned individual any day of the week.

Which is why she had no problem with stealing one of Dean's guns after they'd made camp and he'd gone off to-- do whatever it was he was going to do. Se has her own, of course, but it doesn't serve her purpose.

It isn't shiny.

"Mort?" Rachel frowns and glances over her shoulder to make sure no one's around to see her acting like a crazy woman, talking to a gun. "C'mon, I need to talk to you."

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"Don't forget the rubber nipples," Dean reminds her, smirking up at the sky. "Yeah. That's about the size'f it. They seem OK with bein' told they're fictional, but ... yeah, I don't trust 'em."

"That was Kilmer, wasn't it?"

Just sayin'.

Rachel sighs a little, staring at the stars irritably. "So what makes you think everyone but you is fictional?"

"I dunno about half of 'em. I only know the ones I've heard of. ... mostly the Batman ones," Dean admits, with a smirk. "You know that farm? Belonged to Clark Kent. Mild-mannered reporter."

Rachel thinks about this for a moment before glancing over at him again.

"...Superman?"

She's in Marco's heaven and it's pretty much her hell.

"Superman," Dean confirms. He's grinning like it's the best thing ever. "You should ask him t'take you flying. Actually, I haven't seen the man himself, but I heard stuff."

"I can already fly," Rachel points out, still frowning. But now the frown has more to do with her believing him.

Marco really needs to be here. The voice in her head can't do his "This is insane!" comments in a shrill little voice justice.

"...I probably have no right to say this, but... this is completely insane."

Dean laughs. "No shit, Sherlock. Welcome to the big, wide world of crazy. Did you somehow not pick up on that when we were fighting ghosts, or freakin' kraken?"

"A kraken's just a monster, I've seen and fought weirder looking aliens. The ghost was... okay, the ghost was weird."

Sigh.

"Really weird. But... Batman? Seriously, Batman? And Wonder Girl? I mean..."

"Wonder Girl can fly," Dean informs her. "That one was Spoiler, I think. Minor Batman character, didn't do much."

These details, obviously, important.

"...there's seriously a superhero called Wonder Girl? Where do they come up with these crap names?"

This is also important commentary, you see.

"That's the mystery none of them are ever able to solve," Dean says seriously -- and sniggers. "Seriously, Batman? Not exactly a name to strike fear into people. Robin is even worse."

Rachel smirks a little, shaking her head at the stars. "I don't even get why people read them in the first place. And you're one to talk, knowing all that stuff about them."

"Hey," Dean protests, looking terribly offended. "This is classic western culture at its best!"

"That doesn't speak well of western culture."

Dean crosses his arms and looks Very Serious, which is a clue that he isn't. "Hey, I don't know 'bout you, but I had ghosts to bust. I didn't exactly have time for college. Comics are as good as it gets."

Rachel grins - at the stars. But she can hear the 'seriousness' in his voice. "I had a war to fight but I still managed to fake my way through Grapes of Wrath."

"Sucks to be you," Dean says, grin audible now. "I skipped that class. ... that month of classes. I think there was a wolverine in Alaska or something."

Rachel's is just as audible, bending an arm back to pillow her head on, the stars abruptly more interesting, more beautiful, less frustrating. "That was... high-security mansion to break into across the country. We had stand-ins so no one would know we were gone, but I still had to take the test. Cliff notes are amazing."

"Cliff notes saved my ass so many times," Dean agrees, laughing.

Well, Cliff notes and having a brother who was studying the same shit half the time, straight As and advanced placement.

... Dean's stopped grinning.

But he's quiet, just not saying any more, watching the stars.

Rachel's giggling, laughing, giddy - and staring at the stars, the fucking stars isn't helping her to stop.

"I don't think I've actually read a book in like... three years, almost four."

"There's no end of abandoned libraries hangin' round here, if y'want," Dean says, absently.

That warrants another glance, even just for a second. There'd been a full bookshelf in her room in that house in Santa Barbara.

Rachel turns back to the stars and smirks a little. "Mmm. Maybe. Not going out of my way just to find a book."

"Won't be too far out've our way." Dean is still elsewhere mentally, frowning and distant. "We got no internet here. That means libraries are gonna be our first stop, every damn hunt."

Dean disapproves of libraries. They're too much work.

"You can be Book Geek, if y'like." He's so generous in sharing duties.

Rachel is quiet, thoughtful. And this time she doesn't look over at him, not when she can hear the thoughtfulness in his voice.

Every hunt, every last one, working as a team. A small team, but a team. And, strangely, with no mention of Jo.

"Sure?"

"Can even find you some comics."

Back to smirking at her.

"You know, just in case the Joker rocks up."