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It's a small consolation that the creature they're hunting is dead—crushed in the cave-in and buried beneath so many rocks that not so much as a patch of fur is left. The smell isn't a pleasant one, and John is happy to leave it behind them as he leads the way along an uneven path towards the cave entrance.
He's not terribly surprised to find it collapsed, or to hear Jo's quiet, "Oh, shit," beside him.
He drops to the floor with a grunt, settling cross-legged and staring morosely at the pile of rocks that was supposed to be their way out.
"We could try to dig our way through?" Jo suggests, tentative and uncertain.
John quirks an eyebrow without responding, and Jo huffs then drops to sit next to him—they both know there's no way they'll be able to move boulders that size.
He watches from the corner of his eye as she takes out her phone, hitting a couple of buttons and swearing when all it does is confirm that there's no reception.
"Great," she mutters, tucking the phone back into her pocket. "I don't suppose you told anyone where we were going."
"Not exactly," he admits, but he's got no fear in his voice to try and hide. "But Sam and Dean are supposed to meet up with us tomorrow. When we don't show they'll come looking."
Jo gives him an unimpressed look.
"Meantime," he continues, shrugging the supply duffel off his shoulder. "We've got some water and plenty of squished granola bars."
"Great," says Jo. Her voice holds irritation, but there's a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "It'll be like camping. In a cave. Without sleeping bags or marshmallows."
"Exactly," he says, and when he cracks a smile she mirrors it right back at him.
"Well then," she says, as the smile on her face turns wicked. "What will we do in the meantime?"
Somehow they find a way to pass the time.