Britta's not entirely sure how this happened. She never expected to be sitting up in her living room at 4 am, drunk off her ass, being consoled by Jeff Winger. She can't remember what choices she made that led her up to this point.

It's good you're talking about this, she began to tell herself before chocking back a scoff; she never was one to enjoy self pity.

But right now, she doesn't need to remember to know this is what she needs.

She remembers Halloween, how Jeff had tried to act like nothing was bothering him-like that was something new. She remembered telling him all those times that he should find his father, and that she should help. She remembered how the Dean spilled the secret of Jeff and his dad's secret holiday reunion. She remembered the initial feeling in her gut; that way she couldn't help but look at Jeff differently.

It's almost as if just the decision to see his dad changed him. As she made a big show of telling him that he's going to need her help (which of course he will, it's not like Winger ever knows how to deal with his emotions correctly), she can't help but feel a twinge of something stirring inside her.

Stop it, she tells herself, we don't need this right now.

The study group parts ways for Thanksgiving break, but she's already made plans to help Jeff reunite with his dad-whether he wants to or not! Winger's about to get therapized by Britta Perry, future therapist. And maybe, just maybe, him dealing with his daddy issues will rid her of her own.

That's a stupid thought I don't need to have. She decides to get in bed early, texting Troy good night and good luck at Shirley's house. Her mind is wandering to places she doesn't want to it travel to.

The day before Thanksgiving passes by in a blur of emails to her mother and sister, whom she only talks to as a formality-and there is no way in hell she's ever sending one to him-as well as a phone call or two to Jeff's dad. She was pretty sure Jeff wouldn't be mad at her. How could he be-she was trying to help! If he wasn't so difficult to work with, she wouldn't have to take these back up precautions.

It was a good thing she was at William Winger's house by the time Jeff called her saying he was backing out of meeting his dad. You'd think it would be awkward, sitting in a room with the man who abandoned Jeff, the guy she once professed love for (boy, was that ever a mistake.) She sat calmly on William's couch, breathing in deeply, listening to Jeff blame her for meeting his dad until the secret of her location came out. She could hear Jeff's irritation, but he would have to deal with it. This was for his own good.

She told herself this was for him, not her. This was for Jeff's sake-he needed to address these issues towards his father. Not her. Nope. This Thanksgiving was all about helping Jeff Winger heal his heart hole.

As his car pulled up, she caught a glimpse of the phone number that had been calling her all day.

Dad, the screen flashed. And like every other time the number called, she ignored it.

So maybe it wasn't the best thing for her to be there, she was still helping. She may not have been helping Jeff but beggars can't be choosers. Boy, his dad sure had done some work on his half brother, too.

I guess you're not the only one with a shit dad, she finds herself thinking, much to her dismay. Stop it, she warns herself. This was about Jeff-not her. This wasn't the same.

Jeff's dad at least had the courtesy to leave, she began before screaming "no" at herself. She wasn't going to do this. Not here, not now. Not ever.

She hears the two talking about being independent, the things they have in common, and she hears his dad talking badly about his brother. She frowns. How could Jeff handle this; it was too much for her (but it wasn't about her. Duh doy.)

In the middle of handing Willie Jr. another dinner roll for their role play (she still chortled at saying that) she hears Jeff say "go to hell" and leave. Confused and a little scared at being in a house with people she doesn't know, she plays it off.

Don't make sudden movements and keep trying to help this boy out, she whispers to herself, suddenly wondering when talking to herself became a thing. She shrugs Jeff off as having a typical Winger tantrum; she'd seen enough of them at her house during their "date nights" to know one. She looked to see if William had reacted, shown any of the typical signs of distress. She saw none. Either he was a pro at hiding feelings from a licensed psychology major or he genuinely didn't care.

She hoped a little too quickly it was the first one.

She turned back to Willie Jr. and saw he was gone too.

She sighed.

What was up with the Winger family and running away?

Eventually Jeff came back. She expected another showcase of "yeah, you left me but I'm too cool to care and wah wah wah feelings" (or whatever excuses Jeff usually made) and was shocked to see something else. Jeff was real. Vulnerable. As he talked and let out all the things he should never have had to deal with, Britta couldn't help but smile. She wasn't smiling because she was happy, not at all; she was smiling because for the first time in the four years she's known him, he's being honest with someone.

And she helped it happen.

Alright don't get cocky there Britta, she mocked herself, he still thinks you're the worst.

If Jeff still had any resentment towards Britta after confronting his father, he didn't make it known. After the initial tension (I mean, Winger did just essentially name every single thing his dad did wrong) they group got along pretty well. A desert and a few drinks, Britta started to feel a little sad. It was great to see Jeff getting along so well with this unfamiliar side of his family. The way he flowed into conversation with ease, even offering his brother some advice. But it reminded her of things she couldn't have.

Typical Winger charm, she deduced. They're all the same. As Britta was about to quote Freud (the Wingers were all talking about their dreams and she had some things to say, as a psych major) she felt her phone vibrate. She thought maybe it was Troy again-he wasn't having the best time at Shirley's. Something about Pierce and blackface being meta. It sounded like something she was glad to be missing.

But it wasn't Troy. It wasn't Annie begging for help either. It was her mother.

Bree, don't be tough on the old man. Forgive and forget. Love heals all wounds.

Nausea, anger, and racing thoughts filled Britta's mind. She thought about replying, but she knew better. She hadn't spoken to her mother in years, even longer about this topic, and she would be damned if she started now.

She must have given something away because by the time she looks up, Jeff is giving her one of his douchey "what are you hiding" looks he likes to give her. She tries to give him her judgey face but it turns out to be a sadder look than she imagined.

We'll just say we're tired won't we? He's bound to believe that.

Britta's relieved when the dinner is over.