"Spirits, for one," Dean said, shooting Angel a look. Hadn't anyone told him anything? Then again, he was right on that count - salt and holy water didn't always work on certain demons, Yellow-Eyes coming to mind that time when he'd been holed up in Dad. Dad had been gone for a year now, but he still felt his absence and it hurt like hell. Some days he didn't know how he got up out of bed, only that he just did and he suspected a majority of the reason was doing it for Sammy. "But you're right about the demons. If they're high-powered enough, then crap like salt and holy water might not work. But better some defense than none, y'know?"

Definitely a hunter. Maybe not the most experienced, informed one he'd ever met but still. Dean thought back furiously to if he'd ever seen Angel hanging around the Roadhouse but considering the fact that the Roadhouse's customers tended to look like very dangerous, very well-armed truckers or bikers, he was pretty sure Chippendale would've stood out for. It wasn't like every hunter in the country stopped by Ellen's, though, so just because he hadn't seen him before didn't mean he was legit.