After a beat wherein she works up the nerve to get her question out, she asks if demons always lie, or if on occasion they offer their victims the truth. Dean ponders that for a moment, then shrugs, all, "Sure, if they know it'll mess with your head. Why do you ask?" Jo looks uncomfortable before offering a shrug of her own. "It's nothing," she LIES, immediately changing the subject to wonder, "So do you have any idea where he's headed to next?" Dean supposes Evil Possessed Action Sammy will try to off the nearest available hunter, who happens to be in South Dakota, and considering the fact that the South Dakota border's at least five hours away from Duluth, Dean better get his injured ass in gear. Jo, of course, volunteers to go with him, but Dean immediately shoots that proposal down with, "I can't say it more plain than this: You try to follow me, and I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here. This is my fight, and I'm not getting your blood on my hands." Jo watches in silence as he strips his discarded jacket off the chair he'd left it on and heads to the door. "Wait!" she calls out. When he turns, she grabs a massive bottle of Percodan from the first-aid kit she'd been using and tosses it at him. "They'll help with the pain," she assures him. "I should think they will!" shrieks Raoul. "The last time I mixed Percodan and tequila," he gossips, "I ended up completely..." Uh, Raoul? You don't want to share that story. "But I..." No! Trust me on this one. "Hmmph!" In any event, Dean thanks her for the narcotics and exits with a promise he'll call. Once he's gone, the camera pans in on Jo's face as she shakes her head to herself and half-smirks, "No, you won't." Oh, Jo. Men are bastards, aren't they? Especially when they're stumpy little bow-legged midgets. You should try for The Ginormotron instead.