The house was old, Victorian, and abandoned for that long by the look of it. Even her careful steps gave the occasional creak, which made it even easier for the thing following her to keep up. But as Uncle Shawn had always said, provided Ellen wasn't around, the key to hunting was turning your disadvantages ass backwards.

Climbing up on the old wardrobe wasn't exactly a quiet task, but gauging from the creaks following her, the skinwalker was still on the first floor. She crouched, knife in hand, ready for the moment he walked through the door.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she heard it's slow steps coming closer up the stairs. Her muscles practically jumped with adrenaline but she kept perfectly still, her breathing slow and silent. The steps faded slightly, probably going to the first upstairs room. She waited.

His gun came first. She saw his eyes dart to either side of the door jam but not up as he slowly eased his way in. As soon as he'd cleared the doorway, she leapt, her free hand going for his wrist as he managed to turn just before she drove him to the floor. There was the sound of all the air exploding out of his lungs as his body hit the floor, followed by a stunned silence but no attempt to fight off the lithe blond-haired woman currently pinning him.

"'kay, I deserved that," came the muffled voice, face-down against the scuffed wood.

While perplexed by the lack of struggle, Jo nevertheless placed the blade at the back of his neck. "This knife is silver. So much as move and I'll prove it very quickly. Don't answer my questions the way I like, and I'll prove it very slowly. Got it?"

"Then do it," the man replied, still not moving. "Only, could you do it on my arm or something instead? I kinda like having all my limbs functioning below my neck."

Jo frowned. This wasn't exactly going as she'd pictured it. Her other hand grabbing his hair to hold him in place, she shifted the knife over, slicing his shoulder through his shirt. It bled red instead of black. Her frown deepening, she brought the knife back to his neck.

"Who the fuck are you and why have you been following me?"

"I'm not sure which thing bugs me more; that you were that easy to follow, or that I was heard," the man replied. "No offense, sweetheart, but d'you think we could have this fight later? This is its lair, you know."

"You wouldn't have been able to follow me if I didn't want you to, sweetheart. Your shoddy-ass tail job gave you away hours ago," she chided, though his words made her keep one eye on the door. "And you see, the longer it takes you to answer a simple question, the more I'm gonna assume you're buddy-buddy with our skinwalker friend. And you don't want me to start assuming that."

"I've been tailing you for three days, Jo," the man said clearly, a slight edge to his voice.

The words were like a bag of ice to the gut. She could have convinced herself he was lying otherwise, but he knew her name. The blade broke his skin, a long line of red. "I'm not going to ask again," she said lowly, leaning closer. "Who the fuck are you?"

She could feel him go tense just beneath her, and while he'd been placid at being cut into the shoulder, he appeared to take the new cut more personally. In an instant she found herself flipped off of him and him suddenly sitting on her knees, the wrist holding the knife held above her head by a gentle but firm grip. The face matched the grip; his expression was hard but not angry, and even more startling were his eyes, one of which was brown while the other was hazel. He frowned.

"Your mom was worried. This is the first hunt you've gone on since the accident. She wanted to make sure you were okay."

The shock on Jo's face quickly changed to fury, both at his drop on her and her mom. "So what are you, stalker or babysitter?" she snapped, her grip tightening but not struggling. "Get off."

"Let's go with 'both'," the man replied, a smile warring in the left corner of his mouth. "You think you're gonna take a skinwalker down with a silver knife and that's all? Really? 'Cause I don't feel a gun anywhere."

"If you could feel the gun, then you soon wouldn't be feeling anything below the waist," she said, her jaw tightening, trying not to get pissed off. "Now are you going to get off me or wait for the skinwalker to come by?"

"You didn't seem to care much when I was the one under you," he countered, allowing the smile that time before slipping off of her easily and coming to full standing. "Guess that says something."

She scowled, getting up and pointing at him with her knife-holding hand. "Look, I don't care what my mom said, Skip, but I don't need a smug ass stalker babysitter. So get out."

"Jay," he corrected immediately, bending long enough to get his gun. "You might not want me to stick around, but we can't always get what we want. I'm going down to the first floor." Without another word he turned, heading out through the door.

Staring in disbelief a moment, she pulled her gun from her back waistband before following him. "Unless you want me cutting you every time we run into each other, stay in my sight. Or leave. Leaving would be fine."

Jay's shoulders moved in a silent laugh, but otherwise he remained quiet, walking as close to the wall on the stairs as possible to keep them from creaking. Her nostrils flaring in frustration, she sheathed her knife and followed after him. "The basement. Most likely place it'd keep its victim."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Jay replied, his voice amused. The house was eerily quiet, to the point that even carefully-sought steps sounded loud and echoing. Jay was plenty glad to be off the rickety steps and onto the first floor again, quickly moving to the back corner of the house where he remembered seeing the lead-off toward the kitchen. The door for the basement steps would no doubt be close. Scowling still, Jo followed. She hated pattering after him, as if he were the one in charge. But two steps behind sure beat two steps ahead. Plausible story or not, she wasn't about to trust him just yet. Whether or not he was bothered by her presence, she was unsure. They were hardly halfway down the hall leading toward the kitchen when they heard a muted shout echoing up from beneath them. The words were muffled, but it was still quite obvious what they were:

"HELP ME! SOMEONE PLEASE! HELP!"

Despite herself, Jo rushed past Jay, making it to the basement door first, pulling her knife out as she went. That went first down the stairs, her gun held behind her. One for the possible danger ahead, the other for the possible danger behind. There was a light on in the stone cellar as she turned the corner at the base of the stairs. Stuck in what could have very been a kennel for a large dog was a young woman in her late teens, frightened-looking and dressed in little more than a potato sack.

"Are you that... that thing?" she asked immediately, pressing back in the kennel fearfully. Before she even answered Jay appeared just behind Jo, and the young woman immediately relaxed a little. "Thank god. Get me the hell out of here, before it gets back."

Jo was instantly kneeling in front of the cage, sliding her gun in her waist band before working at the lock with her knife. "Don't worry, you're safe now," Jo reassured her. "We know how to handle it. Or at least I do."

"Nice to have your vote of confidence," Jay said, standing a few feet back and watching warily. The young woman crouched awkwardly inside the kennel, obviously too tall to stand but too anxious to simply sit and watch. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Jo and Jay as she chewed her lower lip savagely.

"I thought nobody would ever find me," she said in a quiet voice.

Jo gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile before focusing back on the lock. Large knife and small padlock, it turned out, was not a winning combination. "When did it leave?" she asked the girl. "And did it look like you?"

"I don't know. I've been here for days," she replied, her expression pained.

"Jo, get out of the way," Jay said almost instantly.

With a jerk of her shoulder, she finally popped the lock open. "Yeah, I know how to open a padlock, alright?" she snapped, not even dignifying that with a glare.

"Jo!" Jay said sharply. It was too late; the moment the padlock was released, the frightened-looking young woman suddenly burst forward through the kennel door, one arm grabbing her around the neck and tugging her sharply against her form as a shield. Jay wasted no time, taking a shot at the unprotected elbow of the other woman. Her scream and black blood splatter hit Jo at once, her grip instantly limp. Jo swung an elbow back into the skinwalker's gut, but the iron grip it had pinning her knife hand to her back just pulled up, causing Jo to grimace in pain. The addition of a sharp pressure to the base of her back didn't help.

"Try that again and you'll get a knife up your spine!" the skinwalker shrieked, breathing hard through the pain.

"You won't live long enough," Jay spat, taking aim but not shooting. She was too inline with Jo for him to get a good angle for a killing blow.

Breathing hard, Jo met Jay's eyes. So it came to trusting a total stranger to do the right thing at the right moment. Granted, it was a total stranger who had pretty good aim, but still. Taking a breath, Jo jerked forward at the waist, enough to let up on the pressure of the knife. Her free arm swung back, grabbing the skinwalker's bad elbow and using it as a fulcrum to pull out of the grip on her wrist. She screamed through gritted teeth as the pain tore through her muscles, but the skinwalker was out in the open.

"NO!" it screamed, but even as the shouted word echoed off the basement walls, Jay took the shot. The skinwalker flew backward from the shot before falling altogether, hitting the stony floor with a resounding slam! To be extra careful, Jay walked toward it and shot it a second time in the chest, and a third time through the forehead. Breathing hard through her nose, her arm clutched to her chest, Jo straightened up, her jaw clenched with more than just pain.

"Only need it through the heart, you know."

"Better safe than sorry," Jay said, holstering the gun before turning to look back at her. His expression turned concerned. "Dislocated?"

Every part of her knew admitting it would hurt almost as bad as the injury, but then he'd probably notice something was off when she couldn't use her arm. "Think so," she said stiffly. Jay gave a pained half-smile and a nod.

"C'mon, let's go upstairs; I'll fix you up."

"The real girl might still be here," she said, stubbornly. "We've got to find her first."

"I'll find her, but after you're fixed," he countered sternly. "You're no good with only one arm."

'I'll find her.' Cocky bastard. She headed for the stairs. "Grab my knife. Silver's not cheap."

Jay frowned but nodded, grabbing the knife from where it'd dropped on the ground and tucking into his boot before following after her. He met her at the top of the stairs, gently leading her toward the living room.

"Turn around and brace yourself on the table," he instructed, already feeling empathy without having started.

"Bet you say that to all the girls," she said, though her heart wasn't in it. She leaned on the table, closing her eyes and trying to force her muscles to relax. Jay moved his hand to her shoulder and arm, taking a slow breath and letting it out.

"Sorry," he said near her ear, then lifted and yanked back at the same moment.

She gave a sharp yell though her determinedly pursed lips muffled it. The pain was short, though, and her shoulder felt a great deal better as it eased, her body giving a shudder as she let out a long breath.

"Okay. The girl," she said, straightening and gingerly moving her arm.

"The attic," Jay interjected. "I saw a light up there when I was coming up on the house earlier. It was out by the time I got to the door, though. I came into your room thinking the skinwalker was there."

While she didn't think she'd need it, Jo pulled out her gun as they headed for the stairway. Halfway up, she spoke. "So what exactly are your stalker-babysitter duties?"

Jay followed up behind her, hands in his pockets, though he gave a breath of a laugh when she spoke.

"Make sure you had back-up if necessary, step in when I needed to, take out the baddie if you didn't," he replied, keeping a few steps back so that they were almost the same height as they took the stairs.

She didn't look back as she hit the landing. "No reporting involved then?"

"She asked me to," Jay said, joining her. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna, though."

She stopped, for a moment looking at him without any anger or uncertainty, her eyes only a little wide. "Thanks."

Doesn't mean you weren't stupid, either, she reminded herself, scowling and walking to the attic landing. "Probably wouldn't have needed your help if you hadn't been distracting me," she muttered stubbornly.

That brought a derisive snort of laughter, but once again Jay didn't respond otherwise. He reached up to the rope-tug easily, a bare inch of midriff showing as his shirt crept up in the process. A ladder slid down easily from where it rested, and Jay stepped back to give her the option of going first if she wanted. Her eyes hadn't missed the skin, and it was only then it struck her that he wasn't all that unattractive. Definitely a helluva lot younger than the "uncles" her mom used to entrust her to.

"Now you're acting a gentleman?" she said with a snort, taking the offer anyway.

The smell hit her first. It wasn't enough to make her stop, but it sure made her wish she could. The sight of the attic sure wasn't any better. This skinwalker had clearly been through a couple sheddings, and bodies that inspired them. Jay's nose shriveled up at the smell as well, one hand going down to pull the edge of his shirt up over his nose as if it were sufficient enough to block it. It was relatively dark, and with that thought he reached for his pocket and the zippo that rested within. With two attempts the flame burst to life on the wick, sending faint yellow light across the space of the attic.

"There she is," Jay said, already moving to the last of the bound bodies chained to an old antique trunk. He closed the lighter and exchanged it for a swiss army knife from his pocket, flipping open the serrated knife to start sawing the ropes free. Jo went to work at the gag.

"It's alright," she said quietly, unnerved by the girl's eyes. She watched them but impassively, as if they were a boring TV show. "We're going to get you out of here. It's dead, it won't hurt you any more."

The girl swallowed dryly before nodding once. Upon baring her wrists, the skin was raw from obvious struggle. Her knees and ankles appeared slightly less worse for wear, but she had obviously soiled herself at one point, and moved sluggishly as if she was drugged. With little visual discomfort, Jay lifted her easily in his arms and started toward the ladder again. Jo hurried ahead of him, heading down.

"You can pass her along to me, if you can't make it through like that."

"I got it," Jay replied with a grunt, taking the steps carefully with his back pressed firmly against the ladder. He looked relieved to get to the floor again, shifting the girl just briefly before they continued again.

"Do you have clothes in your car?" he asked, looking at Jo.

"Yeah." She was headed for the stairs almost before the question left his mouth. It was part out of helpfulness and part out of the desire to get away. What the girl had been through, what she'd seen... Jo hadn't taken a close look, but if her intel was right, one of the bodies up there was the girl's brother.

Despite her misgivings, she didn't take her time, hurrying back in as soon as she'd grabbed an extra outfit. Jay was exactly where she'd left him, though the girl looked slightly more aware now that they were no longer in the attic. He shifted her lightly in his arms.

"Probably best that you change her," he said with a small nod toward the hallway containing, no doubt, a bathroom.

It took a while, Jo using her over shirt and water from her canteen to try to help the girl clean off. They didn't say a word throughout. When she was dressed, Jay carried her to his car. Jo followed behind to the hospital. When she told the nurse that they'd just found the girl walking down the road, she didn't object. Made leaving go a lot smoother at least.

As they exited the emergency room, Jo suddenly felt awkward. How the hell do you say good-bye to a stranger/rescuer/stalker-babysitter?

"I dunno about you, but I'm getting a six pack and crashing in my hotel room," he said aloud, ambling halfheartedly beside her. He flashed her a sideways crooked smile before looking forward again.

"Sounds pretty good, actually," she admitted. Then, because she wasn't entirely sure it had been an invite, she added, "Other than the your hotel room bit, of course."

"You're not invited anyway," he countered, grinning wide to prove he was joking. They'd parked next to each other, though he moved over to his passenger's side and leaned against it, showing no desire to leave quickly.

She fiddled with her keys, finally really looking at him, though the lot lights weren't nearly bright enough to see him completely. "Not to sound even more fucking incompetent," she said, breaking the quiet, "but how did you know she was the skinwalker?"

Jay's smile softened a little before going fully neutral, shoving his hands in his pockets and shrugging up his shoulders a little. "You can't last days without water and sound that excitable. I mean, you saw the girl. She, no doubt, went days without water."

Jo let out a breath of a laugh, a smile twitching at her lips. "Logic. Now that's just plain cheating." Her expression became a bit more distant. Something so simple and she'd missed it. "God, I'm rusty, aren't I?"

"Maybe," he replied, though not unkindly. He licked his lips for a moment, letting his shoulders drop down as he looked over at her. "How about that beer, yeah? Or are you feeling more like whiskey? There might still be a liquor store open."

"Beer's good," she said, even as a faraway little voice in the back of her head whispered a warning. "Any whiskey worth a damn would be stretching my budget for this trip."

"Lucky for you then that I'm a nice guy," Jay replied, tugging his own keys out. "Day job as a mechanic. I'll hit the liquor store, you hit the Safeway for beer. Miller Genuine's preferred."

"Sounds like a plan. Where you got yourself parked for the night?"

"The Best Western over near River North," he answered, circling around the front of his car. "See you in 30?"

"See you," she answered sliding into her driver's seat.

The whiskey went down nice and smooth. Almost too smooth, actually; Jo was already on her third glass and had curled her legs onto the armchair, a sure sign she was beginning to feel a little buzzed. It was pleasant, though. Nice. It'd been a while since she had a hunter her own age to talk to.

The television buzzed as background noise for the room, some inane night-time talk show that Jay hardly paid attention to as he sat on the edge of the bed. The liquor left him warm, and it hadn't taken long for him to strip off his shoes and socks, as well as the two shirts he'd been wearing on top of the undershirt. He did so without any sense of bashfulness; he simply wanted to cool down a little bit.

"There's left-over KFC in the mini fridge, if you're hungry," he said, his voice a little slurred from drinking but still fully comprehensible.

"Mm, prob'ly should," she hummed languidly. "Don't want to get up though."

"I'll get it," came the immediate answer. Jay attempted to stand straight up, but lost momentum halfway through and plopped back down again. This brought a loud laugh from Jo and a small, less-than-manly giggle from him before he was up on his feet again and padding toward the small "kitchen", containing a sink, the aforementioned mini-fridge, and both an overhead and below cabinet for storing food. His head disappeared below the countertop as he bent down, and within moments he returned with the bucket, dropping it gently in Jo's lap. She grabbed his arm before he headed back to his seat.

"You gotta take some, too. You sure need it more'n me," she said with a shit-eating grin. The hand on his arm seemed to startle him for a moment, his eyes widening slightly before he registered exactly what she'd said. Jay's lips quirked in a smile.

"I'll be fine," he said with a small nod. "Don't throw up usually."

"No, no, night's juss startin' and you're falling over," she insisted, giving his arm a tug. "Gotta eat your chicken."

"Whatever, I just lost my balance th'once!" he replied with a laugh, settling himself on the floor at her feet anyway. Absently he started untying her boots as well. She watched him, slightly amused, as she nibbled on a leg.

"Just don't tie 'em together; might forget they're like that."

"Nah, m'not a bully," he mumbled, his fingers surprisingly dexterous as he finished each boot and pulled them off one by one. He left her socks however before reaching into the bucket, pulling out a thigh. "Not like you."

"Bully! When was I a bully!" she scoffed.

"Hello," came the slightly indignant reply as he turned to show his shoulder at her. The wound was cleaned now, but it was just barely scabbing over. Jay paused long enough to rip a bite out of the top part of the piece he'd taken. "Stabbed me in the shoulder."

"You told me to," she reminded him with a wave of her chicken leg. "I don't stab people unless they're not people. Or if they deserve it."

"Makes you a bully," he said around a mouthful. "Didn't have to cut me so deep, bully."

"Doesn't make me a bully. Bullies don't have reasons," she insisted, so adamant she'd all but forgotten the chicken in her hand. "I had a good reason. You were bein' a cocky bastard."

"Y'didn't say sorry," he replied, looking up at her and meeting her eyes. His pupils were dilated from drinking, but otherwise he kept a straight gaze.

"Neither'd you," she chided. Then, after a moment, "Sorry for what?"

"For wh- nevermind," he replied, dropping his eyes down as he took another bite out of his chicken thigh. It took all of three moments before he was haphazardly chucking the bones into the bottom of the bucket.

"Ugh, ugh, what'd you do? What did you just do?" she whined, sliding from the chair to the floor, less than graceful. "There's food in there, food in there people want to eat, you know."

"Oh shuddup, it's at the bottom, whatever," he laughed, amused at her reaction. He was so used to doing it that he'd forgotton some people didn't enjoy cross-contamination. "S'not like we haven't been 'sposed to worse tonight, you big baby."

"Yeah, yeah, you didn' have to throw your shirt away from cleanin' off piss and shit," she chided. A beat and her expression went from playful to somber, staring into the middle distance a moment before turning to her glass and studying that instead. Completely ignoring the sense of personal space, Jay moved his hand to her cheek and turned her face toward him again.

"Don't do that thing," he admonished gently. "No frownin' allowed in my room, y'hear? S'the rules."

She did smile, though quickly ducking her head again. "'Kay, yeah." Knocking back the last of her glass, she got to her feet, wobbling slightly. "I'm gonna start on the beer. Want one?"

"Almost done with my glass," he said, pointing with one hand and reaching back into the bucket for another piece of chicken with the other. "Bringin' it over would be nice, though."

She went for the fridge, grabbing a couple bottles and getting back to him without too much trouble. Handing one to him, she hesitated before sitting, grabbing the whiskey and bringing it over while she was at it. Sitting, she added a bit more to her glass, taking a savory sip before downing the rest. "'m very good with drink, y'know," she said, setting the glass aside and twisting open her beer. His expression remained amused as she returned back to the floor again. He'd only sat on the floor because there wasn't much room on the chair and she'd grabbed him, and his ego kept him from trying to stand again. That she willingly returned made him smile a little.

"Well, duh. Bartender or whatever." He paused long enough to drain the last of his glass before finally opening a beer. "'m surprised you didn't rec'nize me."

That got a surprised look. "You been to the Roadhouse?"

"Twice 'least," he replied, half-smiling. "Don't think you were payin' much attention to anybody else, though."

Contrary to the rules, she frowned. "When? Who's I payin' attention to instead?"

"Wheels," he said almost instantly, before flushing a shade darker than the liquor already made his skin. "S'ry. Chase."

Her frown darkened. "Don't. Ever," she said, sounding almost sober. "You don't even know him. You don't get to say shit like that."

Jay took a long pull from the bottle, dropping his gaze away from her face in embarrassment. "S'ry. Really. I... he's been kind of an asshole t'me, s'all. Didn't mean nothin' by it."

Her breath hitching in anger, she got to her feet, her head spinning. Instead of the chair, she went further away, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her back to him as she nursed her beer.

Jay sighed and took another pull from the beer to keep from frowning, regretting ever having opened his mouth outside of the emergency room. Why he felt compelled to invite Jo over to his room, he didn't know. Seeing her, though... she left a feeling in him like warmth that wasn't quite the alcohol, and he wasn't sure why. I probably make her feel pissed and like a loser, he thought absently, dropping his forgotten piece of chicken back into the bucket and standing on slightly wobbly legs to return the chicken to the mini-fridge.

Hunching lower, Jo tried not to think, not to breathe, but it was all rushing at her, as though the wave of alcohol had broken down walls she'd so carefully crafted that she didn't know what was behind them. The girl's eyes had been the start of it. Chase had looked like that when he first woke up. He sometimes looked like that now, when he didn't think anyone was watching. Just...empty. And if she tried to talk, tried to make things better, he brushed her off or snapped or just left the room. She was supposed to smile, act like nothing was different, but no matter what she tried to build around it, her life was a ghost of its former self.

Despite her fighting, her trying to calm herself, she felt the liquid heat in her eyes, the clenching in her chest. To her horror, a sob escaped her lips. Jay stood straight up at the sound of the noise, which all but cut through the buzz of TV chatter. In the process, he managed to bang the top of his head on the underside of the cabinet, and winced as the pain ricocheted inside his skull. He moved as quickly as his feet would allow over to where she sat, concern on his face. He hadn't meant to make her cry, and now he felt twice as horrible as he initially did. Carefully he dropped down to his knees in front of her, his hands resting gently on her arms.

"I didn't mean to make you cry, Jo," he said earnestly, moving his thumbs in a half-conscious caress against her arms but otherwise unmoving. "Please don't. I- that was an asshole thing t'say, and I'm- drunk. 'n Stupid. Please don't cry."

Covering her face with her hand, his words only making it worse, she shook her head, unable to speak through the sobs. She wanted to run, to get away from him, stop someone who might as well be a stranger from seeing her crumble, but she could barely think of moving. At the risk of probably being punched or slapped, Jay moved to sit next to her, sliding his arms easily around her slim frame and pulling her in gently for an embrace. She curled into him, burying her face into his shirt, losing herself in it all for a good minute. As the tears finally slowed, she felt the embarrassment returning, desperately wanting to explain herself.

"I'm fucking useless," she managed, slightly muffled in his shirt. "I couldn't - I can't even take out a skinwalker when they're right in front of me."

"Shut up, you're not useless," Jay countered, still holding her and gently running a hand back and forth on her shoulders. "Out of practice maybe, but it's been three months. Huntin's like a bike; you never forget how. You're plenty good according; everybody's said as much."

But I couldn't save him. I was there and I didn't- She felt the lump of emotions swelling in her chest again but now she had enough presence of mind to hold it back, her breath merely coming out in a shudder. She didn't move away from Jay, though, not wanting him to see her. Hell, she wished she'd just run to the bathroom when she knew she couldn't hold back, but too late now. His arm around her felt nice, though. Jay remained silent when she didn't respond, his hand still moving gently against his shoulders as he breathed in time with her. His eyes fell closed as he listened to the sound of her breathing and the television noise. His touch made it easier to calm and soon even her breathing was normal. Her hand that had been gripping to his shirt relaxed, rubbing almost absentmindedly at the wet spot where her tears had settled.

"Sorry I made your shirt wet," she said quietly.

"S'fine," he murmured in answer, eyes still closed.

"Should go," she said, shifting away from him, not meeting his gaze.

"If you wanna," he replied, letting his arms fall loosely from around her when she pulled away. His eyes opened lazily, a disappointed look reflected in his eyes but not frowning.

She felt she should say something but didn't know what, so after a moment she uncurled from the bed to stand. Her legs wobbled a bit at first but she soon made it to the bathroom, closing the door behind her before going to the sink and splashing cold water on her face. She tried to think through the fuzz of alcohol and crying. The only conclusion she came to was she was too far from sober. Fucking car.

Emerging from the bathroom feeling a great deal more human, albeit fuzzy, she stopped awkwardly in the doorway. "Can I stay a bit to get sober? Whiskey still not outta my system."

Jay looked up from where he'd focused on the wall just to the left of the bathroom door, eyes hazy as they re-focused on her. He nodded, leaning back on the bed again.

"Sure," he replied, still nodding.

She padded over to the armchair, curling up in it again. Uncomfortable with the silence, she said, "Sorry I went off like that. Dunno why. Think I had a bit too much."

"Or I'm just a dick," Jay said, moving his hand up through his hair before craning his neck to look at her.

That got a smile. "Maybe both."

Jay gave her a crooked smile in return, letting his head hit the pillow again when it became too painful to hold his neck up. The alcohol made him fuzzing and lethargic, and despite the awkwardness stretching in the space between the bed and the chair, he felt mostly content. Jo watched him through drooping eyelids, her head eventually resting on the back of the chair. She still didn't know much about him, and she couldn't believe he'd been to the Roadhouse and she hadn't seen him. Granted, the place had been busy since they rebuilt - apparently hunters had missed a hub away from home - and things had been busy with Chase. But he should at least seem a bit familiar.

"Why'd my mom call you?" she murmured, a bit quieter than she'd meant to be.

"Hmm?" he asked, moving an arm behind his head to pull a pillow beneath his neck in order to look at her without having to crane it.

"You're not the kinda person I'd expect my mom to call for babysitting," she said louder, a smile pulling at her lips. "Why'd she call you?"

"Uh, I live in Aurora?" he answered, brows raising slightly. "I'm closest, I guess."

She shook her head with an inner laugh, her cheek resting against the chair back. "Can't believe she knows you an' I don't. I'm supposed to know the young guys, 'n she knows the old farts."

That brought a snort of laughter. "Hey, your mom's not that old." At the risk of sounding like a pervert, he quickly rephrased himself: "I mean, it's not- I'm 30. How old didja think I was?"

"I'unno, I was figuring 28. But 30, damn, you're an old fart, too," she said, her grin wide.

"Now who's the dick!" Jay countered, reaching for a pen from the side table and flicking it at her.

She swatted it away with a giggle, squirming to a more comfortable position. "Just stating facts. Hit three decades and your life is all downhill from there."

"30 is the new 25, sweetheart," he said, squinting at her. "And I ain't planning on kicking the bucket any time soon. So there."

"An' when you're 40, that's the new 30, right?" she teased. "That the line you're gonna use when you try bangin' coeds?"

"Tch. Like hell I'm gonna go try knockin' elbows with a college girl. I may be 25, but I'm hideous," he replied, brows arched at her.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. I mean, that's the reason I took you for a skinwalker, y'know," she said, unable to keep the laughter from her voice.

"Bully," Jay muttered, giving a pout as he found a coaster inside a drawer and frisbee'ing that at her as well.

This one she caught, tucking it in her lap with a laugh. "You're gonna run out of things eventually, and then I'm gonna have all the ammo."

"Then I'll just have to come over there," he replied, pulling a face at her. He wished suddenly that he'd remembered to bring his beer over as well; she might've been on her way to sober, but he didn't want to be.

She gave a snort. "You're lookin' pretty glued to that bed, Skip."

"Maybe that's what I want you to think," he replied, closing his eyes.

"Yeah, think I'll take my chances there," she said, smiling as she watched him. He really wasn't unpleasant to look at. The sensation of her watching him was enough to make his skin crawl, but not in an outright unpleasant way; more like he wanted to squirm, or whine a little at her. Or maybe get up like he said and... Well, if that isn't the alcohol talking, he thought, chuckling out loud.

"What's so funny?" she said, her voice amused and a bit tired.

"Nothin'," he replied, opening his eyes again to look over at her. "You got all your stuff with you, or is some of it at your hotel?"

She knit her brow slightly but was really too tired to be perplexed. "With me. Pretty sure, at least."

"You can take the bed and I'll take the chair, if you don't wanna have to go far."

She gave a snort even as she closed her eyes. "You're not sleepin' inna chair. I'll be fine inna few."

"Whatever, you're about to drop. I can hear it," he countered.

"Jussa quick nap," she insisted. "'Nuff to get me goin'."

"Fine," he replied, pushing himself up on his elbows before fully sitting up, his legs coming around to land flatfooted on the floor.

The noise made her open her eyes. "You go'n sleep. I can let myself out."

"'Course you will," he replied, standing and moving over to where she was, curled up at strange angles in the chair. He patted her knee. "But you're not sleepin' like that."

"S'fine. Bed won' be much better," she said, closing her eyes again. Jay huffed a breath through his nose before leaning down and slipping an arm around her back, the other hooking beneath her legs in order to lift her.

Just as he started to lift, she took a sharp breath, her eyes snapping open and body trying to lean away from him. "Shoulder," she blurted.

"Exactly," he replied, ignoring her flinch as he lifted her. He hardly appeared affected by her weight, lifting her as if she were nothing more than a child and tucking her against his chest. He was infinitely gentle, which was a surprise given the fact that his own shoulder was still injured from her cutting him earlier that evening.

Her heart sped up, tiredness melting away, and not just because of the sudden twinge in her shoulder. She could feel the muscles in his arms shifting, his chest warm against her. It felt nice, almost too nice to trust. "I'm not- I can walk, you don't have to-"

"Already have, so shut up already," he replied, his voice rumbling in his chest. He took the five wide steps needed to get to the bed before lowering her to it. As he pulled away she could see the conflict present in his expression for just a moment before it was gone again, turning back to get his forgotten beer. Feeling uncomfortable on a completely different level than before, Jo decided to ignore it, trying to rotate her shoulder a little. Definitely more tender than it had been; apparently the whiskey had been helping more than she realized.

"Think I'm okay to drive now, actually," she said, focused on her shoulder. "I should leave you to get some sleep."

"If you wanna," Jay said again, his back to her as he lifted the beer up to his lips to take a sip.

"Should." Specially since I kind of don't want to. She got to her feet, going around the room to try to find where she'd left her keys.

"You keep sayin' that," he replied, looking over his shoulder at her and smiling slightly. "Your jacket's in the closet."

"Right. Thanks," she said, feeling her face go a bit red. She got it out, double-checking that the keys were still in the pocket before she slid it on. Jay turned in order to watch her better, the smile still there but his eyes unreadable.

"You goin' back to the roadhouse t'morrow?"

"Yeah. If my mom's freakin' out enough to call you, shouldn't make her wait too long. 'Sides, gotta bone to pick with her," she added with a roll of her eyes.

Jay took a pull from the bottle, silent for a moment before giving a nod. "Drive safe, then."

"Yeah, you too. I mean, tomorrow," she said awkwardly, headed for the door. Biting her lip, she stopped to look at him directly. "Thanks for the help. Don't know how things would've gone down without you."

Jay smiled, making a vague gesture with his hand. "Glad to help. See you 'round."

Her insides sunk a little at what felt like a brush-off. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, or even wanted from him, but that wasn't it. "Yeah, see ya," she said, opening the door and not looking back. Once she was out the door, Jay let his face fall and sighed quietly. Wordlessly he went about putting wards and protection around the door, staring at his hands as he worked and wishing that she'd stayed. A small part of him had hoped, somewhere beneath the realization that she was much too good for him and completely unattainable, that he'd at least have the chance of curling against her as he slept. When the wards were finished he went back to where he'd left his beer, glancing only a moment at his cellphone before flipping off the lights and heading toward the bed.