Zoë slips her key in the door lock of room 82 and walks in.
"Finally!", Dean says out loud.
He's laying down on the bed with his shoes on the spread, his ankles crossed, sitting up against the back wall reading a magazine of which Zoë doesn't want to know what it contains. Sam is behind his laptop, not surprisingly, 2+2 is on my mind by Bob Seger plays softly in the background. Dean smiles happily when he sees the Taco Bell symbol on the paper bags she's holding in her hand. It might took her a while to get back, but at least she brought in the good stuff. Without responding to his comment she throws him back his wallet with a subtle grin on her face. As if he hasn't eaten for days, he attacks the taco Zoë hands over, quickly tearing away the paper wrap and taking a big first bite. Zoë isn't surprised by his manors, she feels like stuffing the entire thing into her mouth herself to be honest. But Sam still can't help to stare at his brother for a moment and shakes his head disapproving. Dean on the other hand, doesn't seem to be bothered at all by the glare and lets out a satisfied 'mmm'.
"Thanks Zo", Sam also takes a bite from his lunch.
"Don't thank me", she nods at Dean. "He's the one who paid".
The youngest of the two frowns and looks over to his brother for an explanation. Dean and generous? That's a big first. He doesn't need to keep watching him for long before Dean looks away, clearing his throat as silently as he can, apparently ashamed. Zoë watches him, smirking.
"She… ehm", he pauses, studying his taco for a moment. "she kind of… stole my wallet".
Sam is just in time to stop himself from bursting into laughter and sniggers. He immediately receives a glare from his brother.
"That explains the new jacket", Sam says after he swallows his bite.
Surprised Dean looks up, jacket? What jacket? Then he spots the black leather bomber jacket on Zoë, brand new by the looks of it.
"You didn't", he reacts shocked.
"Oh, I did", she smiles at him, clearly enjoying herself.

"How much was it?", he grinds, trying to keep calm.
"Not sure actually, I didn't bother to check the prize tag when I slipped your card", she says, utterly satisfied.
For a moment Dean just glares at her, his upper lip twitches for a moment as frustration builds. What would that jacket be worth? $ 600,- … $ 700,- maybe?
"Oh don't be such a jerk about it", she comments when she spots his face. "You have at least a dozen more hidden in the trunk with that arsenal of yours".
"How the hell do you know that?", Dean questions suspicious.
As she takes a bite of her taco she looks up, digs deep down her pocket and tosses him his keys. While she continues eating her lunch, Dean stares at the keys in his hand, trying to figure out how the hell she got those. Then his eyes seek hers.
"You touched my car?", he asks, holding back.
"Obviously I had to, otherwise I couldn't have taken these", she holds up a demon protection amulet, some herbs and a silver blade.
"Give those back, Zoë", Sam demands.
"Gardner here went through a lot of trouble to get a hold of that dead plant you're holding there, I'd give it back if I were you", Dean suggests.
"No, I need it", she states and she puts it back in her pocket.
Sam glances at her with a puzzled look on his face. Why would she need that herb? He stares at it, two dried out plants tied together with a double shoestring. It only works for one thing.
"Not for yourself, I hope?", Sam asks carefully.
"A case I'm working on actually, can't find the damn things anywhere", she declares.
"Keep the damn plant, but I want the rest back, get your own supplies", Dean gets up and holds up his hand, waiting for Zoë to hand the items over, which she does with a sigh.
He doesn't thank her, in fact he´s not happy with the fact that he has been sniffing around in his car without asking. The silence that follows is awkward, even for Zoë, and she decides to change the subject.
"Back to business, I reckon you updated Sam while I was out?", she asks Dean.
"Yep, every detail", he confirms.

"Let me get this straight", Sam, sitting on the chair near the desk, leans forward.
"We're sure it's a shapeshifter, we know it knows you're a hunter", he glances at Zoë.
"He does, but he didn't knew that at the time of the meeting. He knew one of the callers was, but for all he cared I could have been the FBI agent. He shot anyway", she eats the last bit of taco, chews it and swallows.
"What's your point?", Dean asks.
"Say if we go out, pretending to know nothing, he won't take any risks. He'll try to kill us both", Sam understands.
"So what then? Lure him out and shoot the bastard?", Dean suggested.
"That's a possibility, if it's the shapeshifter", Zoë answers as she walks over to the fridge.
Two puzzled faces follow her as she opens the door and looks inside.
"You're not making any sense at all", Dean apparently gives up to follow this conversation and lays back down on the bed again.
"You just said you're sure it's a shapeshifter", Sam states.
"No, you said that. I said I was sure that this case involves a shapeshifter, but you might actually have made an appointment with the real Cliffer guy", she explains as she takes out three beers.
"You mean that he might not have taken Terry Cliffer yet?", Sam asks.
Then Dean spots the bottles in Zoë's hand and interrupts.
"You read my mind", Dean smirks.
But he receives another confused look from his brother. Dean hasn't been following the conversation and now he suddenly reads Dean's mind? Sam chuckles, thinking Dean's just being smart.
"The beer, goof head", Dean corrects after noticing his brother's disapproving glare.
Sam looks back at Zoë, who heaves one of the bottles to him, but he rejects. Dean though, takes his and his brother's beer without hesitation.

"You're serious? You haven't even been up for two hours", Sam says, astonished by the both of them.
"It's after 11, that's fine by me", Zoë puts the bottle against her mouth and takes a swig.
"Like I said: you read my mind", Dean heaves his beer and does the same.
"Want anything else, Sammy boy? Choco or a Fristi perhaps?", Zoë asks with a happy voice and a smirk on her face.
Dean chortles, almost choking in his beer, but when he sees Sam's glare, he quickly takes another sip.
"Don't call me Sammy", he states pissed, but continues their conversation. "Back to the point. So there is a possibility we might actually have a meeting with Terry Cliffer…".
"Wow, slow down. WE?"
Zoë leans against the table, her hands resting on the edge. Her body language is distant all of a sudden, apparently she wasn't expecting Sam and Dean to join in on the case.
"You could use our help, Zo", Dean jumps in with his brother.
"Help? Thanks to the big 'help' you've been, I couldn't finish the case last night!", she snipes.
"That happened, sorry about that. But as long as we're here, we can help out. Besides, we have an appointment with Cliffer", Sam argues.
"I'm going to that appointment myself", she clears up.
A quick glance at the clock tells her that it's a little past three. She still wants to dig a little deeper on her guy. The boys better get going.
"No you're not, that's our appointment", Dean bounces back.
"I don't care, I was here first", she crosses her arms in front of her chest.
"Oh come on, how old are you? Five?", Dean frowns with an attitude.

"Knock it off, you two", Sam comes between them. "It will be easier to catch that shapeshifter with three hunters than with one, Zoë. Why don't we go there together, you lay low and when we find the shapeshifter, we shoot it. We know he'll be in the bar anyway, as Terry Cliffer himself or as someone else imitating him".
"No, I'm gonna deal with this and I do not need your help", she makes clear.
"I can see that", Dean comments, nodding at her shot wound.
"Who caused that again?", she reminds him of the fact that she got shot because of their phone call.
"Look, whatever happened in the past, we can work together now. The sooner we get this guy the sooner we can all move on.
Zoë sighs irritated, how many times does she have to repeat herself before they get it.
"Listen to me, Sam. I fly solo. End of discussion", she takes a last sip of her beer and sets the bottle down on the table.
"Who do you think you are, ordering us around like that with you "end of discussion"? Our dad?", Sam argues back.
She suddenly turns her head, they can almost see the angry fire burning in her eyes as if they just lighted a fume that's about to explode.
"I'm am NOTHING like your father!", she spits.
"What the hell is that suppose to mean?", Dean questions offensive.
"Exactly what it sounds like, Winchester", she answers with a tone.
"What did he ever do to you? He exercised that evil son of a bitch back to hell, for crying out loud", Dean gets up and steps towards her.
She chuckles sarcastically, looks away and places her hands in her waist.
"You owe him", Dean pushes, halting before her.
"I do NOT owe him anything", she reacts fierce, looking straight at him.

Their eyes almost seem to battle. They stare at each other, waiting for the other to look away, but both Dean and Zoë are determined not to be the first. The anger Zoë feels for John Winchester is enormous, the brothers can both see it.
"I want you out", Zoë declares without a blink. "And I'm serious".
"Fine", Dean grinds, then turns away.
With a sigh Sam gets off the bed and grabs his duffel, Dean is already on his way out. The youngest of the two doesn't feel like leaving her alone on this case, but Zoë clearly isn't going to change her mind anytime soon.
"If you need us…", he tries.
"I don't", she immediately intervenes.
"If you do, we're going down south", he leaves a card on the bed.
"Don't bother Sam, the stubborn bitch won't call us anyway", Dean holds the door.
She ignores his words. In a quick glance Zoë sees that his phone number is written down on the card, but she doesn't intend to pick it up and stays by the table. Sam looks over his shoulder, but he isn't mad like his brother. His eyes ask her to please consider, but all she returns is a cold gaze. Then the door closes behind them and they walk down the hallway.
"Unbelievable…", Dean says. "Just a damn waste of time".
"I don't know, I guess", Sam responds absent.
Their footsteps echo through the hall as the pas the counter. Sam greets a younger guy who probably took over for the day as they exit Motel 6 and enter the parking lot. The sun is till shining and glisters on the cars passing by on the 52 highway, as their tires rush over the asphalt. Dean walks up to the drivers seat of his Impala.
"Where to?", he asks, as he opens his door and gets in the car.
"We're staying in town", Sam sits down in the passenger seat.
"What? No! We have better things to do, Sam", Dean argues, still pissed off by the entire situation with Zoë.

"I know we do, but I have a bad feeling about this", Sam admits.
"On here we go again with the feminine intuition crap…", Dean sighs.
Sam glares at him, but doesn't respond to his words. He doesn't know why, but somehow he feels like he has to look out for Zoë. Stupid of course, she has been fine by herself for five years, why should today be any different?
"Let's just go, you said something about a possible case in Iowa yesterday. If she can handle this, why bother to stick around if we can hunt something else?", Dean tests his brother.
"One night, we book a crappy motel somewhere, check on her and if she nails it, we leave. She doesn't even have to know we're there", Sam suggests.
"I thought you were so determined to find Dad?"
Dean looks aside at his brother, waiting for a response.
"I still am, but we have no lead, not even a single clue were he is", Sam brings to notice.
"Hey, that's what I've been telling ya, but it didn't stop you from looking. You were the one who was all "I gotta find Dad, it's the only thing I can think of" and now you're ditching him for some chick?", Dean bounces back.
"I'm not ditching him for some chick", Sam denies offended.
"Ah come on, you like her and you know it", Dean carries on.
"I do not like her, Dean! Jess just DIED", he clears up mad as if Dean doesn't know.
Dean looks away and turns the ignition. As he flips the key the engine starts and the V8 motor under the hood groans softly and satisfying, as if it's waiting for Dean to back up and hit the road.
"You said it yourself, Dad doesn't want to be found. I don't see how it's a bad thing to spend the night here, unless you have some kind of lead I didn't know about", Sam suggests.
"Fine, whatever. As long as that motel has a bed. I really need to get some sleep", he puts his Chevrolet in reverse and looks over his shoulder as he guides the car out of it's parking spot.
"Feeling alright?", Sam checks.
"Yeah, just tired, need painkillers, that's all", he muddles, as he sets the car in forward motion.
Sam gets out his laptop and starts up his satellite internet, holding his phone in the other hand. He quickly googles a list of Motels and Hotels in Rochester, but he knows it's gonna take a while before he finds a room during the poker event this weekend.