Dean leaned back against the wooden bar-top as he held his phone against his ear, listening to it ring in his ear. His eyes flickered down towards his father’s journal on the bar again, a scowl seemingly permanent on his face as his eyes ran over the number again, the one he was calling.

He was trying not to think about the past few days, about his dad. He knew Sam wanted to talk about it but he just… he just couldn’t. So he did what he always did, and just poured himself into his work.

Finding the Harvelle’s Roadhouse had pretty much been a godsend, but when Dean had been flipping through his father’s journal again, he came across a page that just had a number written on it — no name, no address, no notes, just the number. And that was odd. John’s journal was thorough, all of the information that needed to be there was there. So for there to just be a number in the middle of the book was weird.

Naturally, he had to find out who they were, and how they knew his dad, now that he wasn’t- now that he couldn’t tell them himself. If they were another hunter, if they knew his dad, it might be useful to meet up with them.

Dean eyed Sam across the roadhouse speaking with Ellen, but before he could get too lost in thought the unknown number finally picked up.

“Hello?” Dean immediately asked, his voice gruff. “Who’s this?”