Johnny's bar was hard to find. He had to stop and ask for directions twice and people seemed really reluctant to lead him there. The bar had terrible lighting and was playing country music. There were quite a few patrons for mid afternoon. The bartender was some young guy with a lot of freckles all over his skinny face.

"I'm looking for Boyd Crowder." Dean asked.

"He ain't here." the bartender said immediately.

"Do you know where he is?"

"No" Dean pulled out a twenty and slowly slid it over the bar to the kid. "I still don't know where he is." The kid said frankly.

"Fine, get me a beer. Is he supposed to be here later?" Dean asked again.

"Maybe, he comes and goes." The bartender shrugged.

"Is there anyone else who might know where to find him?"

"Wait a few hours for his people to come in." he said. Dean wondered what "his people" meant and decided to ignore the feeling of suspicion. He went over to the pool table to wait. Other people came in to the bar as time went on. Dean had two beers and shot some pool. After the second beer Dean went back to the bar to talk to the kid again.

"Someone called him and told him to come down here." The bartender said before
Dean had even asked.

"Thanks man." Dean ordered a third beer. A few people wandered over to play pool. Dean went to join them. Might as well earn a few bucks while he was here. Dean was winning a good sum of money when he was tapped on the shoulder. Dean turned and was startled to find someone standing right next to him. This guy had managed to get in his personal space without him noticing. Not many people could do that.

The guy was a few inches shorter than him with a wiry build and was wearing a faded black t-shirt. His black hair stuck out at all angles. He seemed harmless enough but, something about his eyes told Dean that this was a dangerous man.

"I'm Boyd Crowder; I understand that you have been looking for me." He said with a southern accent and carefully enunciated words.

"Can I have a word?" Dean didn't bother to act charming or even polite.

"Of course" Crowder smiled revealing perfect white teeth and spread out his arms in a welcoming gesture. Dean wasn't buying the act. He followed Boyd to one of the back rooms in the bar. The door said employees only. Crowder acted like he owned the place, hell, maybe he did. The room was a tiny office.

"What can I help you with?" he asked. Crowder sat on top of the desk facing the hunter.

"Your mother was Mary Richardson correct?" Dean started. Crowder's eyes narrowed a bit. This was shaping up to be a very different conversation than the one he had planned on.

"Yes" he confirmed.

"She occasionally helped people acquire certain items; do you know anything about that?" He asked the question vaguely in case this guy had no idea what he was talking about.

"I do, what is it that you're here for?" Crowder seemed surprised and Dean got the impression he was a man not easily surprised.

"Silver bullets" Dean said.

"I may have some. My mother was out of the business for a long time before she died. She told me some things and gave me what she had left over. I don't even know what half of the stuff is. No one has ever come asking about it before." Crowder had a faraway look as he contemplated the request. "I'll take you to it." He finally said. Dean followed Crowder. They turned a lot of heads in the bar as they made their way outside. People in here seemed to take special notice of Crowder's activities and now Dean was a part of it. He wasn't sure what that meant. They made their way outside. It was nearly dark; Dean had been in the bar longer than he thought.

"I'll follow you." Dean said, coming to a stop in front of his baby.

"That's a nice car, my friend; the roads we'll be traveling are rough." Crowder said. Dean frowned. He didn't trust this guy but, he also didn't want to damage his baby. "I'll drive." Crowder said, settling his internal argument and turned to his own vehicle. Dean followed with one last look at his baby. Crowder's vehicle was an old pick-up truck that Dean was surprised to learn actually ran. Dean felt uneasy leaving his baby unattended.

"It's not a nice as yours I'm sure." Crowder said as he got in the driver's seat. "I'm not a man that puts much value in cars."

"Obviously not." Dean just had this urge to look under the hood and fix it. Crowder laughed. He seemed content with the silence as he drove but, Dean was getting restless. This situation was just too odd and Dean kept his hand close to his weapon. The radio was picking up some type of folk/country station that made Dean twitch in irritation but, he wouldn't mess with someone else's music.

"So your mom was a hunter?" Dean asked.

"She didn't seek out the supernatural but, she gathered materials for those that did. Others in her family were hunters. None of them lived that long." Crowder glanced sideways at him.

"She sounds like she was an interesting lady." Dean offered.

"How did you learn about all this?" Crowder asked.

"My dad" he said.

"I assume there's some tragic back story behind that statement." Crowder said. Dean glared at him but didn't say anything. "Is your father still alive?"

"Yes."

"Are you close?" Crowder asked. Dean didn't really know how to answer that question.

"I thought we were."

"How old are you, kid?" Crowder asked with a world weary sigh.

"What does it matter?"

"I suppose it doesn't." Crowder sounded sort of wistful. He couldn't be more than ten years older than him Dean noted.

"And how long have you been doing this?"

"All my life." Dean said without any type of emotion behind the statement at all.

"Just you and your dad?"

"And my brother Sammy. He's at college now." Dean didn't know why he was telling all this to a stranger. He just got the impression that if he tried to put on a mask Boyd Crowder would be able to see through it anyways.

"Back home?"

"He's at Stanford out in California."

"You look very proud of him."

"I am he's a smart kid and he deserves it."

"I have a younger brother, all of his dreams involved getting a football scholarship and using it to get out of here. My daddy even thought he could do it. I was more pragmatic but, they didn't want to listen to me." Dean felt like he was seeing Crowder without his mask on too.

"What does he do now?"

"He digs coal."

"Sounds like a shitty job."

"It is, do it long enough and a man will be desperate to do anything else." Crowder was finally silent and Dean was left to wonder what kind of guy he was sitting next to. They went down several back roads and tree branches scraped at the outside of the truck. Dean was suddenly glad he hadn't brought the impala down this stretch of what might be called a road. They had been driving in a dark forest for ten minutes now.

"This is the perfect place to get murdered." Dean muttered under his breath. Crowder chuckled.

"It's just up ahead." The truck finally stopped. They were in an overgrown clearing that contained a small wood cabin. Crowder left the headlights of the truck on as they stepped out of the vechicle. Dean kept a hand close to his gun at all times.

"My great-grandmother's place" Crowder explains unnecessarily. Crowder walks in, the place isn't locked apparently. The cabin is old, an actual log cabin. The stairs shift under his weight. Dean didn't like it here, something about a home remaining long after its inhabitants have passed. It was strange. Crowder had a flashlight.

"There's no electricity here." he says. Dean briefly flashes him and incredulous look. Crowder smiles at his expression anyways.

"My great-grandmother was old fashioned and after she passed no one wanted take care of the place let alone update it." Crowder handed Dean the flashlight as he bent down to open an old cardboard box against the wall. It was filled with books.

"I once tried to read some of these, couldn't make heads nor tails of it. There are only four boxes. If you know what this stuff is take it. I don't need it."

"Thank you, I'm sure they'll be useful."

"You know I thought she was crazy? She told me stories of hunters in her family but, I never believed her and my father was a man that was firmly entrenched in reality. He forbid her from speaking of it. Then one day people started disappearing and Mama called a hunter to take care of it. The man called it a wendigo. I saw it, me and a friend. It wasn't human and I believed her after that."

"And you never did anything with your knowledge?" Dean didn't intend for his tone to be accusatory but it came out that way.

"My place in this world was chosen by my father as well." Crowder said while looking straight at Dean. The man's gaze was intense and creepy. "You never said your name." He asked.

"Dean Winchester."

"The hunter that killed the wendigo was called John Winchester." Crowder said.

"That's my Dad." Dean was surprised to say the least.

"He bought guns from my family a few times over the years." Crowder mentioned.

"What is it that you do?" Dean asked even though he got the feeling that whatever it was, was illegal.

"A little bit of everything really." He said with a sardonic smile. Dean looked away and picked up one of the boxes. He wasn't exactly a law abiding citizen either but he had a purpose. He saved lives doing what he did. This guy was probably an expert on taking them away. When Dean went back in the cabin Crowder had found the silver bullets. They were in a plain wood box nestled in with some odd smelling herbs and trinkets.

"Thanks" Dean said.

"They'll be of more use with you than here." he said simply. Together they loaded the boxes in his truck and Crowder drove them back to the bar. Once all the boxes were safely stored in the impala Dean turned around to shake hands with Boyd. He turned to find him standing behind him with his hand out stretched holding a piece of paper out to him. Dean gave him a confused look.

"My phone number." He explained. "If you never need help."

"If you're not a hunter I don't know how much use you can be."

"Well that may be so but, I do know how to use a gun and I'm quite experienced with explosives." He said with a manic grin.

"Okay well if I need to blow something up I'll let you know." Dean said with an amused grin. "You're okay man, take care of yourself." Dean waved as he pulled out of the parking lot leaving Boyd Crowder standing in the poorly lit parking lot.