Boyd had not been surprised to hear from Dean again though he was relieved that this time the kid had called him before he got into trouble instead of after. Boyd had agreed to go with him to Wisconsin for a few days in a burst of spontaneity. The call couldn't have come at a better time either. Just yesterday Trooper Bergen had come by to ask his guys some questions. The questions sounded a little too astute for Boyd's liking. Skinheads were good muscle, but Boyd had yet to meet one with a brain. One of them was bound to spill the beans out of pure stupidity when the cops came around. Yes, it was a good time for him to take a vacation.

He told Devil he was going down to Memphis to talk to Hot Rod and left him in charge of the gang. Devil puffed with pride and assured him everything would quote "run right 'round here." Boyd figured at least one of them would be dead by the time he got back. Probably Dewey.

Boyd met Dean at Johnny's bar, deserted this early in the morning. Dean did have a nice car, it pulled up next to him with a rumble, the exterior shined despite the dusty roads. The passenger door creaked as he got in.

"Hello again, friend." Boyd said. Dean raised an eyebrow at the form of address. "Where are we headed?"

"What you forgot already?" Dean pulled out of the parking lot, suddenly having reservations about bringing in an amateur.

"It was a conversational start. I'll begin again. Have you eaten breakfast yet? I have not There is good restaurant in Corbin with decent prices." Boyd gave him his most amiable smile. Dean narrowed his eyes at him.

"They got bacon?" he finally asked.

"Yes."

"Fine, just give me directions." Dean said.

"It'll be a while before you need to turn. Why are these suicides suspicious?" Boyd asked.

"One every other day."

"Anything else?"

"Not that I was told, we'll have to start investigating when we arrive."

"I'll follow your lead." Boyd said.

"Right." Dean muttered suddenly wondering what he needed to teach Boyd. Dean had been so young he hardly remembered how he was trained. For Sam it was more the physical aspects of the job that he needed to learn. Sam was a natural at the book stuff. Boyd wasn't Sam and he wasn't a scared little kid.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" Dean asked. Boyd just stared at him evenly, blinking occasionally. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Turn here." Boyd finally said. After a few more turns they came to a diner with a red room and a neon sign that told them it was open. The diner was crowded for breakfast. Dean was forced to park in between two dusty pickups. They walked in and a bell twinkled to announce their arrival and they took a seat by the window. The menus were laminated and slightly sticky.

"So how is your brother? Still in school I presume?" Boyd said, not even looking at the menu.

"He's fine."

"Is he home for the summer?"

"No."

"How come?"

"I should have found someone less chatty." Dean glared.

"Wisconsin is an awful long ride."

Dean said nothing. The waitress came to take their order. Boyd turned his attention to her and ordered bacon and eggs, sunny side up. Dean ordered pancakes and bacon and pie.

"So how does your father feel about your brother being away from home so long?"

"None of your damn business."

"Would you prefer if I talked about myself?"

"I would prefer you to shut up and let me eat in peace."

The silence lasted through breakfast. The food was pretty amazing and Dean made sure to remember the address, just in case he was in the area again. Dean thought he was out of the woods and Boyd wouldn't ask him anymore personal questions. Boyd waited patiently until they were on the road again, trapped in the car.

"So how did your family get into the hunting business?"

"Damn it, quit sticking your nose in my personal life."

"You can ask me questions." Boyd offered, "I'm an open book." Boyd smiled with all his shiny white teeth. Dean narrowed his eyes at him.

"Okay fine, what do you do for a living, you seem shifty." Dean hoped asking the man about his illegal activities would shut him up, no such luck.

"Well, I robbed a bank on Monday." Boyd said casually as if it was a regular occurrence for him.

"Shit, really? Why?" Dean blurted. Boyd didn't seem fazed.

"I don't always stick with any one "profession" you might say."

"Jesus, why don't you get a real job?" Dean said.

"And you work 9 to 5 in an office." Boyd said pointedly.

"I help people." Dean said grinding his teeth.

"I suppose that's true." When AC/DC's "Back in Black" came on Boyd reached over and turned off the cassette player before returning to his position staring out the window.

"Dude, Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." Dean said as he turned the music back on and cranked up the volume. It was going to be a long ride to Wisconsin.