After dinner Sam offered to clean up, and Dean and I slipped out into the yard for some sparring practice. Dean was in a good mood, and full of energy. He scratched a large circle out in the dust with his booted foot. "You ready for your butt kicking?" He asked me with a huge cocky grin as he stripped down to his tight gray t-shirt.

"You'll have to catch me first," I grinned back. Against his reach and strength I was learning that my best assets were my speed and quick thinking. He was much better than me, he'd been raised fighting, but it was getting harder and harder for him to beat me. I was pushing myself hard, trying for the day when I would be able to pin him finally, and wipe the triumphant grin off his face.

We circled each other. We'd done this often, and we each knew the other's fighting style as well as our own. He was impatient, and I would use that to my advantage. His grin slipped into a look of intense concentration. I stepped slowly to the left, and he mirrored my move, looking for an opening. "Are you going to keep dancing all day, or are you going to do something with that pretty body of yours?" Yeah, he had his game face on, and the smart remarks were all part of his style.

I grinned at him, "You just wish. What do I get if I pin you this time?"

"You get to be on top?" His grin turned wicked.

"I'll already be there. You can do better than that." Six months ago I never would have been so bold with my banter, but Dean and Sam's confidence in me was giving me a confidence in my self that I'd never known before.

"How about a full body massage? And if I pin you, you give me one."

"You're on." I made another step to the left and pretended to stumble. It was the opening that Dean was looking for and he lunged forward swinging with his right. My faux misstep let me pull my momentum back to the right and duck under his swing. As strong as he was, blocking his blows would only tire me out faster, and with my small build dodging was easier. I spun around him as I dodged and swept out with my left foot in an attempt to knock his feet out from under him.

He had anticipated my move, and his long stride had taken his feet just out of my range before I could complete the sweep. He spun back to face me, and we were back where we had started. "Is that the best you can do? Come on, Andrea, I know I've taught you better than that." As he spoke he moved in with a double punch that would have caught me in the chest if I hadn't side-stepped in time. On the second punch I used an Aikido move that Sam had shown me to catch his arm and use his own forward momentum to flip him onto his back. My shock that I'd actually pulled it off slowed me down enough that he was already rolling to his feet before I could move in for the pin.

"That's my girl. I think I'm going to need a massage after that." He was smiling, "But don't let it go to your head."

This time I moved in for the attack with a flurry of kicks that put him off balance, but he surprised me by grabbing my leg and pulling me to him. Instead of pressing his advantage and taking me down for a pin he pulled me closer and kissed me. He released my leg and deepened the kiss. I responded passionately, but I wasn't above playing dirty with a massage on the line. As I brought my leg down I tangled it in his and pulled his leg from under him as I pushed on his chest. He went backward with a thud and I landed on top of him.

The fall knocked the wind out of him, and he had to take a deep breath of air before he said, "You take my breath away, temptress," and he moved a hand to the back of my head and pulled me back into our interrupted kiss before I could respond.

When we finally broke apart for air I grinned at him, "It's not my fault you're easily distracted." I traced a finger along his jaw line and tapped his chin as I said, "You owe me a full body massage."

"Don't be so sure about that," he said, and with a powerful buck he flipped us both so that I was beneath him. His hands held mine against the ground and he smirked. I could feel his growing desire as the line of his body pressed along mine. His eyes grew dark with need and our lips met again. He released my hands and I threaded my arms around his back, feeling his broad, powerful muscles move as his arms surrounded me.

"Alright, you two, I sincerely hope you aren't going to go at it in the middle of the yard." Sam's voice came from the porch with a joking tone. Dean broke the kiss, and one of his hands left me as he held it up to his brother in a playful one-fingered salute.

"No, not me – her." Sam's comeback made me blush and smile at the same time. Dean gracefully got to his feet and offered me a hand to stand. I was no sooner on my feet than he was scooping me up like a knight with a fairy tale princess. It was so unexpected that I laughed with surprise.

As Dean carried me up the porch steps past Sam he said, "Looks like you finally get the top bunk, little brother." Sam was smiling, and if it was an act, it was a damn good one. Then I heard him laughing behind us, and the sound was genuine.

Dean put me down once we were inside, and I grabbed his hand as we hurried up the stairs to my room, laughing like teenagers. As soon as we were in and the door was closed I wrapped my arms around him and we kissed deeply. Dean guided me backward to the bed as we kissed, his hands slipping beneath my shirt. I was working on his belt buckle as we went. With a gentle shove he pushed me back onto the bed. He caught his weight with his elbows as he landed on top of me.

He pulled back and smiled gently at me. The strong lines of his face were lit by the orange glow of the setting sun as it shone through the window. I traced his cheek and ear with my fingers, loving the feel of being so close to him. I lifted my head to nibble along his neck, inhaling the warm scent of his skin. He lifted me to a sitting position and slipped one hand into my shirt and around to my back to unclasp my bra. I sat back and let him pull my shirt and bra off over my head. He smiled, and ducked his head to take one of my taught nipples in his mouth. He licked the skin around it teasingly before grasping it in his teeth and nibbling softly, sending shockwaves to my core.

My hand slid up his back and into his soft hair as I murmured in pleasure. I arched back to give him easier access and he supported me with his strong arms. My hands slipped downward and under the fabric of his shirt. I wanted it gone; I didn't want anything between us. I sat up again as he pulled back and pulled the offending material off, throwing it to the floor. My hands were free to slide over the smooth, warm skin of his back and chest, feeling the contours of his muscles. I loved the way the dusting of freckles across his nose was mirrored on the skin of his shoulders. I smiled as I imagined playing connect the dots across his body.

I felt myself being lifted again as he moved me further up the bed. His hand found the snap of my jeans and opened it with a flick. He was slowly moving the zipper downward, his eyes alight with desire, and a teasing grin gracing his beautiful mouth when the sounds of Sam's powerful voice echoed through the house.

"Dean! Andrea! Need some help down here!" The urgency in the cry had us springing to our feet in an instant. Dean grumbled again about his brother's timing, but neither of us slowed as we pulled on shirts and scrambled down the stairs. My body ached with unfulfilled desire, but my need was quickly replaced by a rush of adrenaline.

Dean stopped at the bottom of the stairs to see what was going on, and I pulled up short to keep from running headlong into him. I followed his gaze to see Sam in the doorway barely holding up the weight of a much larger man.

"Jefferson! Son of a bitch!" Dean was in motion again, rushing to his brother's side to help support the injured man. He was a giant of a man, ebony skinned with broad features. A large gash ran down his bald head, and he was bleeding badly. I hurried to the kitchen to pull the first aid kit from beneath the sink. By the time I got back to the living room Sam and Dean were lowering the barely conscious giant onto the couch. I pulled out antiseptic wipes to clean his head wound as Sam checked him over for other injuries.

"Jefferson, come on man, stay with us. You gotta tell us what happened to you." Dean said as he checked the big man's eyes. "Damn, he's got a concussion."

"His ribs are bruised, maybe broken. He stumbled up the driveway only a minute or so after you two went inside," Sam explained as he took the wipe from me and started to gently swab the blood away from Jefferson's head wound.

His name sounded familiar to me, but I couldn't place it. I'd never seen him on the show. I turned it over in my mind as I watched Sam and Dean perform their field triage on the wounded man. Dean was calling his name trying to bring him around from his daze. If he was concussed it was vital that he stay conscious.

"Dean, damn, boy. Stop yelling in my ear," he finally came awake enough to respond in a deep baritone voice, but his words were slurred. "Where's John? Did we get that bastard?"

"Jefferson, that hunt was years ago, and yeah, we got the bastard. Do you know what year it is?" Sam asked.

It took the big man a moment to respond. The blow to his head must have been a bad one, "Oh, man. I'm sorry… Your dad… Yeah, it's two-thousand seven. I thought we were somewhere else for a minute. I thought we were back in Colorado…"

"I know, dude. I'm not going to forget that hunt, or the mess you made in the Impala. Speaking of which…" Dean moved quickly to grab a wastebasket and move it closer. "If you lose your lunch this time try to aim it here."

"Same old Dean. You're still a smartass, kid."

"Yeah, and apparently you still don't know when to duck. What happened?"

Jefferson tried for an ironic laugh, but it turned into a gasp of pain as his injured ribs moved. "Fucking Bambi. All the things I've hunted, and I get taken out by a kamikaze deer."

"This cut isn't too bad. But you're going to be in for a long night, J." Sam told him as he wiped away the last of the blood and got a good look at the laceration. "You have a pretty bad concussion from what I can tell, so no sleep for you."

"You gotta go get my truck. If the cops see…"

"Yeah, we got it covered. Where'd you crash?" Dean was already on his feet moving toward the hook where Bobby's tow truck keys were hanging.

"About half a mile up the road, near where the pavement ends. It's in the ditch."

Sam glanced at me, "Andrea, you've got to keep him awake. Put some butterflies on his head, it's not deep enough for stitches. It's going to take both of us to get that truck back, I think." He passed the first aid kit back to me, and I nodded. They'd been training me in first aid, but Jefferson was going to be my first real patient.

They had to get that truck, though. If Jefferson was a hunter, then he would have a weapons stash. If some well meaning neighbor had called the cops, and they got to the wreck first, it would mean some hard questions that none of us could answer very easily. Luckily Bobby's place was off the beaten track, and there was a good chance that Sam and Dean would get there first.

The door closed with a slam as the two brothers rushed out of the house. That left me alone with Jefferson. I rifled through the first aid kit looking for butterfly bandages. I never was very good at small talk, but I had to come up with something to talk about to keep the oversized hunter awake and alert.

"Those two are good boys, but they never were much for manners. I'm Jefferson Carver." He started to extend a hand to shake, but the pain in his ribs brought him up short.

I smiled and grasped his hand where it was so he didn't have to reach any further. "Andrea Colt, apprentice hunter. And, apparently, nurse." I grinned. "So, did you kill the deer? It's been a while since I've had venison." I leaned in to start patching up his head wound.

"No, damned… 'scuse me, danged thing startled me right off the road and kept on going." He chuckled, "I might just have to hunt it down, though. Just to make sure it wasn't possessed, you know."

His words were coming more clearly, and he seemed to be more alert than he had been. That was a good sign. I finished up with his head. "Can I get you anything? Glass of water, maybe? There's some Tylenol here, but I don't know if it will help much."

"Nothing stronger?"

"Not with that concussion. I don't want to give you anything that will make you drowsy."

"Then, yeah, some of those aspirin ought to hit the spot." He shifted his position and winced again.

"Are you having any trouble breathing?" I asked, concerned about his ribs. He didn't seem to be the sort of man who would wince over any little ache.

He shook his head, "No, Mam, it's just every other movement."

I watched him as I re-packed the kit, and he didn't seem to be taking too shallow breaths. But still… "Lift your shirt; I want to see how bad it is."

"For you, pretty lady, anytime." His teeth shone very white in his dark countenance as he flashed me a huge, teasing grin. I rolled my eyes. I helped him lift his shirt so I could take a look at his side. There was a huge mottled bruise starting to form on his left side.

"This may hurt a little." I gently prodded along the ribs on that side. He inhaled sharply as my fingers found the tender spot, but the ribs felt like they were intact. "Nothing broken. Let me get an icepack for the bruising, though." I let his shirt drop. "You stay awake, now, you hear?"

"Yes, Mam." I could hear a bit of the Deep South in his voice and speech, and it was bringing out my own long suppressed Southern way of talking. I'd tried very hard to get rid of my slight drawl and Southern speech patterns, not because I was ashamed of them, but I didn't like being stereotyped by the way I spoke.

I found a plastic bag in one of the kitchen drawers and filled it with ice from the freezer. Grabbing a kitchen towel to wrap it in I took it back into the living room. Jefferson hadn't moved, but his head was starting to droop.

"Wake up. No sleeping on the job, mister." I said as I crossed the room.

He lifted his head. "I wasn't sleeping, just resting my eyes."

"Mmm, hmm, that's what they all say." I handed him the ice pack. I was still trying to figure out where I'd heard his name mentioned. I thought about asking him about the hunt he'd mentioned earlier, but I was afraid to bring up bad memories. I was learning quickly that asking a hunter about his past was a very bad idea. The present might be better. "So what brings you out here to the dark side of nowhere?"

"I was passing through between hunts. I haven't seen Bobby in ages, and thought I'd stop by to catch up on old times. Where is the old coot, anyway?" I felt like there was more that he wasn't saying, but I didn't press.

"He's on a hunt." I wasn't sure if I should say more. Sam and Dean hadn't given me any indication of how much they trusted this man, though the fact that he knew John seemed to say that he was an old friend. It came to me then, where I'd heard the name. It had been mentioned in one of the early episodes of season one. Jefferson was one of the people they'd called when they first started searching for their father. "I don't really know any of the details."

Something was niggling at my brain. I'd thought it was just not being able to place the name, but the feeling was still with me. It struck me as odd that he would just drop in on Bobby without calling ahead - especially if he hadn't seen him in years. It happened; we'd pulled in this morning without calling, but still…

"I'm going to grab myself a drink, you thirsty?" I asked, turning to go back into the kitchen. I hoped he'd say yes.

"I could do with a beer, but I guess I'm out of luck there, huh?"

"Afraid so, but there's iced tea…"

"Yeah, sounds good."

I poured two glasses of iced tea, and I added a liberal dose of holy water to Jefferson's, just to be on the safe side. Bobby had repaired the Devil's Trap on the living room ceiling, but where Jefferson was sitting wasn't under it. If he reacted to the holy water I had no idea how I was going to get him into the trap. Maybe I should wait until Sam and Dean got back? No, I had to find out before he had a chance to slit my throat.