Jenna followed John into the room.

"I'll take the bed closest to the door," John said.

Jenna sat on the other bed and put her head in her hands.

"Why don't you shower?"

A short laugh escaped Jenna's lips before a tear slid down her cheek.

"I don't have clothes to change into. Everything is back at the house in my suitcases."

"I have a few extra things, toothbrush and stuff like that, in my truck. I'll get it for you. We can get whatever else you need tomorrow." He dug in his duffle and pulled out some clothes. "You can wear this for tonight."

Jenna took the offered clothes and stood. "Thank you." She pulled his jacket from her shoulders and passed it back to him, then went into the bathroom.

She made the water as hot as she could take it, and stayed for longer than she intended. Her tears mixed with the shower stream until she just stopped crying, and a numbness filled her.

The clothes John gave her were big on her. The sweatpants thankfully had a drawstring, and she rolled the legs up a bit to avoid walking on them.

She wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at her reflection. The woman looking back at her was unfamiliar. Tired, bloodshot eyes. She didn't even have the strength to dry her hair. She wanted to cry again, but the tears wouldn't come.

John was at the small table looking through newspapers with a pen in his hand. He looked up when Jenna came out of the bathroom.

"Still tired?"

Jenna nodded as she placed her folded clothes on the dresser, then climbed into bed. John got up and turned off the lamp between the beds and the light in the bathroom.

"You don't have to do that if you're working on something," she said.

"It's okay. I can work with the table lamp... and you need sleep."

Jenna lay on her side and watched John while he worked, until her eyelids were too heavy to keep open. Flashes of her parents haunted her sleep. She woke with a start, and sat up.

"You okay?"

John was still at the table under the light of his small lamp.

"Bad dream, I guess," she said.

"Yeah... you might have those for a while."

She almost asked for just a touch of sympathy, but when she looked into his eyes, that was what she saw. He looked sad, like he understood. That was when she noticed him thumbing the gold band on his finger.

"The bad thing that happened to you," she said, "was it your wife?"

He followed her eye line to his hand, and he stopped fidgeting.

"Yes."

At his one-word response, she dropped the subject. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was three in the morning.

"When do you sleep?"

"I don't much anymore. But you should go back to sleep."

"I kind of don't want to... The dream."

John nodded. Jenna saw that he understood. His had been a different kind of loss, but he understood.

"What are you working on?"

Jenna got out of bed and joined him at the table.

"Nothing you should worry about."

Jenna flinched. "Sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, I didn't mean it that way."

"I get it if it's personal."

"It's very personal."

Jenna nodded and stood to walk away, but she stopped when John spoke again.

"But that's not why I don't want to tell you about it."

"Then, why?"

"You still have a shot at a normal life."

Jenna scoffed. "Do I? I'm dead, remember?"

"Yeah, but a new identity can change that."

"That's not normal. That's not my life."

"More normal than the life I live."

Jenna stared at the newspaper clippings and John's scribbled notes, and sat back down.

"You're going after something, aren't you?"

He hesitated, but admitted that he was.

"What is it?"

John shook his head.

"What?" Jenna asked.

"I don't want to drag you into this life."

"A shape shifter took my identity and killed my parents. I'm already in it. There's no going back for me. Look, you saved my life. Something I haven't thanked you for yet, by the way. So, thank you."

John grinned, so Jenna kept going.

"The least I could do is help you."

"I don't think so."

"Okay, then let me just be a friendly ear. A sounding board."

John shook his head.

"John... I've got nowhere to go. I can't even begin to think about my next step after all of this. Listening to you and what you're trying to do... It will give me a focus."

John tapped his pen on the table.

"Please? I need the distraction."

"Once you're in this life, it's hard to get out. Even if you want to."

"I understand."

"No, you don't."

Jenna couldn't hold his gaze. He seemed to be judging her state of mind, staring deep into her eyes. She had to look away.

"It's the the thing that killed my wife," he said.

Jenna looked back into his eyes as he spoke.

"It's a demon. A nasty one. I've been tracking omens, signs that point to demonic activity."

"And you found it?"

"Not yet. But demon activity has been picking up lately. More than I've seen in the last twenty years. Something's happening."

"What?"

"I'm not sure."

Jenna pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"What... I mean, will you tell me what happened? To your wife?"

John looked away and ran a hand over his mouth. He stared at the pen in his hand as he began playing with it.

"I fell asleep watching television..."

Jenna listened intently as he spoke. She didn't want to interrupt. He barely looked at her as he told her what happened. The blood, the fire, losing the love of his life and the mother of his children. Jenna's loss was still so fresh that hearing John speak of his wife's death, as if it had just happened, brought tears to her eyes again.

"I'm so sorry, John."

"Going after these things... you think it will help with the pain, but it doesn't. If anything, it keeps it alive. So, I'm going to tell you again... You don't want this life."

Jenna nodded. Her teeth troubled her bottom lip as she considered everything John told her.

"I dare say that no one wants this life. But knowing what I know now, how can I not help you? You saved my life, John. What's that old thing about saving someone's life and how it makes you responsible for them?"

"I don't think I like where this is going."

"You're responsible for me, John. I've got nothing. Legally, I don't even have a name anymore, because Jenna Turner is dead."

He played with his pen again.

"And I just realized I'm putting all of my faith in a man whose last name I don't even know."

"Winchester."

"Well, John Winchester, you saved my life. Are you going to toss me out? Or are you going to let me help you?"