When Ellen started getting herself focused, Dean wasn't entirely paying attention. He was checking the clip of his handgun, looking the entire thing over. It needed to be taken apart and cleaned after today. One thing John had instilled in both his sons: cleaning a weapon was just as important as being able to fire it.
Once he looked up from that, his heart about stopped in his chest.
There was this thing that Jo did, this way she had of... well, really everything... but when it came to firing a rifle or a shotgun, it was the way she held the thing, the way she braced it. The way she stood, the way her body became still.
Dean's mouth opened, and somehow, things started to fall into place. Parents were hunters. From the future. Knew about Dean, and Sam. Ellen. If Jo had a daughter, what would she name her?
There was nothing he could say. He just stood there, with the gun in his right hand.