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Dean's done with the library. Done with the whole stupid city. He's got a carful of books and no intention of hanging around any longer.

But he's also got to find Jack, Jo and Rachel, and he doesn't really know where to start. He's heading down the street in the vague direction of Jo's hole-in-the-wall apartment, hoping the others will somehow be there too.

They've got work to do.

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Dean leans against the door and tries not to loom.

He's looking around, too, gaze flicking over everything in the room with the sharp quick attention of a hunter. And maybe more.

"Yeah. That's it."

Yeah ... she's busy.

It's a nearly empty room.

If the house in Lawrence had the feel of a hunter with a home stock piling, this is a hole in a wall that makes motels look homey. Bare walls and floors, sparsest furniture and no decorations or signs of life aside from a pile on the table and a full trash can.

The bedroom and bathroom through small doorways on the opposite side are empty of any signs.

Wait.

Roll back.

Jack was coming and Rachel wasn't now?

Jo's not entirely sure this is so amazing.

"You meet him?"

"Birdboy? Yeah."

He wanders into the room and grabs the desk chair, twirling it around to sit backwards, splay-legged.

"Bit of a prick, honestly. Uh, they're not coming."

That gets an arch brow, lips pressed as she glanced up from the table.

"He didn't say anything when I met him."

"Said two words to me." Dean shrugs. "He's why she's not comin'. She wouldn't go anywhere without him, and I don't trust him."

That gets a pointed expression, zipping her backpack.

"You trust her, but you don't trust her calls?"

"Damn right I don't trust her calls. I don't even know why the fuck I trust her." Dean scowls at the backpack.

"Little late for that epiphany, isn't it?"

He invited her.

They traveled together.

There was a sharp look at the place, but nothing else was there or needed.

It could burn down now and it would be okay, which was why she'd picked it.

Dean's arms stay folded.

"So I uninvited your BFF. Sorry. I don't like working with prickly bitches who can't keep a civil fucking tongue."

Hypocritical? Deany?

She slipped one of the back pack straps over her shoulder and looked at straight.

"Cause you're a patron saint of that."

Dean shrugs, unabashed. "We rub each other th'wrong way. And not in a good way, like I might usually wanna say with someone as hot as freakin' Rachel."

Jo made a face, and a disgusted sound.

Because Jo hadn't graphically imagined that before.

She hadn't though thought of it in weeks. Thanks, Dean.

"Because her backing up both of us before and holding her own doesn't matter at all?" She rolled her eyes, glaring at the wall behind his head. "And Sam's in her space now, too?"

"Hey," Dean says sharply, turning his attention on her.

"Sam's in Sam's space."

Same eye roll.

"Whatever. We good now? I've got my stuff."

And she's going to have to find Rachel soon enough.

Dean folds his arms and follows her out.

"We're good."

But his mood isn't, any more.

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