[RL WITH JO] [GONNA RAMBLE ON, SING MY SONG]
[Far be it for Dean to turn down a decent hunt, even if he isn't...Exactly invited. In fact, he's pretty sure he was the exact opposite (Would that be uninvited, if he was sure he was never invited to begin with...? Didn't matter.), but that doesn't stop him from tapping into a few resources of his own and pinpointing a ten mile area that has more male drownings than he's seen in a while. Really, it was kids' stuff, finding the spot, once he has a set of criteria to look for, and in no time at all he's on his way to Elizabeth, Minnesota, with a note left on the nightstand for Sam, whenever the kid woke up and realized Dean was missing.
Now if Sam will just stay put while Dean keeps a really dumb and inexperienced hunter from getting herself killed, everything will be peachy.
But he's planted himself at the bar in the one-horse town, keeping an eye peeled for the would-be hunter still in her training pants. Sacrifice a civvy? Not on his watch, sorry. Part of the gig is saving people, not means to an end. That was only true in credit card fraud: It's like he's said to Sam before, really. He and his dad just fill out the papers. It's not like it's their fault the companies send them the cards.
He shifts, elbows on the bar, and hunches deeper into his leather jacket, one finger drawing patterns in the water circle left behind by some ghost of a glass that had come before he ever sat down, glancing sideways out at the other patrons. Not that the place is packed full or anything. It took him all of five minutes to get from the city limits to here, including the ungodly long stoplight.]