Waking up starts with a massive headache, then solid pain all over Jett's body. He wishes he can forget last night, he wishes he can forget that whole day and seventy-five percent of his life. No matter how much he drinks he'll still remember though, and last night is no exception. He sits up sorely. Sunlight shines from down the hall and the smell of coffee hangs in the air. A set of clothes are on the table; a pair of sweatpants, and a long sleeve thermal, both a greyish heather color. Jett shivers as he slides them on. He takes the blanket with him to the kitchen, wrapping it around his body the best he can. The one armed life is not an easy one, but at least he'll heal.

Mai sits at the kitchen table with one knee to her chest while resting on the other leg. Cup of black coffee in hand and nose in a book of lore, ash blonde hair loosely combed, but still very messy. The clock reads 7:12 a.m.

"It could be any number of things." She states as Jett walks in the room.

He looks at her a moment but catches a glimpse of the mug she had left out for him beside the coffee pot. His priorities are coffee first and conversation second. Blanket still wrapped around him, the chilled boy pours himself a cup and sits down across the table from Mai. He becomes colder just looking at the girl. She's in a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, no socks.

"How are you not cold?"

"You live here long enough you get used to the draftiness."

Mai watches him dump three spoonfuls of sugar from the dish into his mug. She silently judges his coffee preference.

At least he's not watering it down with milk.

"Do you have any creamer?" He asks her.

She gets up involuntarily and fetches him some milk out of the fridge. He thanks her and pours a decent amount into his drink. She focuses back on her book. Jett takes a sip of the tan liquid; it does the trick. It spreads through his body, branching out in a warm wave over his limbs sending a tingle down to his toes. It touches his soul and eases some of his discomfort momentarily. Then the feeling is lost and he must take another sip.

"Your magic skin could be a number of things." She says again.

Jett stares at her blankly, wondering if she has been up all night doing research. Last night didn't sit well with her and she had trouble falling asleep. When she did manage to close her eyes it didn't last long. Many times she tiptoed downstairs and checked on her guest. Mai tells herself that trust is earned not given freely and that she doesn't trust Jett. The smart thing would have been to kick the wounded boy to the curb, call her uncles, and hide in the Fox Hole until help arrived. Instead, she fixed him up, let him sleep on her couch, and never made any attempt to call for assistance.

Inside she is terrified. Mostly terrified that she's just being stupid and that Jett is a who-knows-what waiting to kill her. But the thought of calling the boys for help on this, having to answer why she let Jett in in the first place, listening to Dean lecture (that is assuming he'd have anything to say to her at all). She can't do that. She can't deal with her family becoming involved in her mess. This is her mess, her mystery to solve, her puzzle and problem to work though. She can do this by herself, she's a big girl.

"Hoo doo, Voo doo, celestial beings, gods from pretty much every culture. I ruled out shifter and witch though. The silver knife didn't burn you and I couldn't find hex bags anywhere."

Jett nods pressing his lips together.

But seriously why would a witch want to heal a hunter? She asks herself.

"So we've got nothing?" He rephrases.

"No solid leads." She closes the book and watches Jett sip coffee. "What do you remember? From last night's hunt."

"I got the snot kicked out of me by demons." He states bluntly.

"What was the case you were working on?" Mai questions. The story of last night should give away some clues. Jett took a long slip of his coffee before answering.

"They were just… here. Working the crossroads, possessing people. I was working alone, got cornered and made a break for it. I drove here… it's the closest hunter-friendly spot I knew of."

"Anything out of the ordinary?"

Jett gave a derisive laugh.

"Is this a case now? Are we hunting whatever patched me up?" He took another sip.

"This isn't odd to you? That you were bleeding out and now perfectly fine?"

"I would hardly say I'm 'perfectly fine'." He sets down his mug and gestures to his shoulder and stiches. Mai ignores his point.

"What caused your claw marks in the first place?"

"A hellhound." His voice in dry and his eyes are distant. Taken aback, Mai doesn't push any other questions. His answers aren't producing clues anyway.

"Do you want some breakfast?" She changes topics.

"I'm fine; I'll be leaving soon enough."

"You'll be driving out of here with one arm?" Mai raises an eyebrow.

"I'll be fine."

"You should stay here."

"I already stayed the night; I really need to get going."

"To finish your hunt? You really think you can accomplish that now?"

"They're still out there." His voice is defensive.

"Screw that, I'll get Bobby to call another hunter." She doesn't understand why he's being so stubborn.

"No!" he says aggressively. Mai goes quite.

"No, it's… this was personal business. I'm sorry; it's not just another hunt for me." He readjusts his shoulder in the sling.

"Okay." She says softly, "…Can you give it a few days? Wait for your shoulder to heal more?" her voice is sheepish, but she holds his gaze.

"…Okay."

After some breakfast that Mai insisted on, Jett takes his bag from the car up to the guest room. It's an open airy space. Facing the front of the house, the large windows let in quite a bit of light. You can see down the driveway, the edge of the highway, the top of the barn, everything in the clearing. The walls are white which matches the furniture. The floors are the same wood that branches throughout most of the house; that rich chestnut color.

Jett tosses his bag onto the queen bed. It embraces him softly as he sits down. It's much kinder to him than the couch. He runs his fingers over the bedspread, a powder blue quilt with tiny snowflakes embroidered in. He can't remember the last time he's slept in a real bed, it has to have been at least a year.

He rolls his shoulder slightly and winces. In all his years hunting, this is the first dislocated shoulder. It hurts, far more than the guys on TV make it seem. Mai's right, he's in no shape to hunt with a shoulder like this, but he hates to admit it. He pushes himself off the bed and slips down the hallway, passing Mai's open bedroom door. Light from the back of the house shines in her windows, the white walls glow golden yellow. Her bed is made precisely, notebooks are stacked neatly on her desk, the open closet shows her orderly folded and hung clothes. He stops for a moment to take in its tidiness.

"Oh…" He turns at a voice. Mai is sliding out of another bedroom. She quickens her pace, stepping in front of him and closing her door. She doesn't say a word to him, but continues on downstairs.


"Mai, there's a thousand things that could be, did your friend give you anything else to work with?" Bobby is as clueless as she is.

"No, she just said she was patching up a guy and his wounds vanished."

"Well, I've never heard of Hellhound wounds just diminishing. Who is this friend of yours anyway?" Suspicion is evident in his voice. Mai bites her lip.

"Just a girl who goes to my school…"

That isn't a complete lie. Mai does attend her school. She can almost hear Bobby rolling his eyes as he sighs on the other end of the line. He knows something's up, but there's no way she's bringing up Jett. Bobby will update her uncles and that would be a horrible mess. She doesn't exactly trust Jett, but she can handle this. She can handle him.

"Look kid, if your 'friend' remembers anything else about the incident then I'd be glad to give my two cents. But as of now, you've got a load of crap to roll in. It's hardly enough to start a case."

"I wasn't looking to start a case on it. She's just …unsettled by the ordeal."

"Yeah, I would be too. Well, tell me if you get any new leads on this. Okay?"

"Okay thanks Uncle Bobby."

"Call me if you need anything"

"Will do, bye." She hangs up.

Not even Bobby can give her answers. She leans back in the leather office chair and stretches her back. Muscles are tight with the ache of too much research, the neck muscles especially. She rolls it back and hears it crunch. Stretching it like that isn't good but it's the only thing that helps somewhat. Everything in her is still sore, stiff from sitting all day, mentally drained from yesterday, tense and on edge about housing a practical stranger. Although she can't complain about that, she's the one who asked him to stay.

He's no threat. Besides, I can't let the stubborn ass run around like that.

She glances down at the cell on her desk. One missed phone message and four unread texts, all from Walt. Figuring out the supernatural culprit of Jett's skin regeneration isn't the only reason Mai planted herself in the study all day. She convinces herself to read the texts.

Walter Pipp (11:35 A.M.): Hey, just checking on to see how you all are. I hope your grandfather's doing okay. Text me back if you want to.

Walter Pipp (1:35 P.M.): Checking in again. Call me if you want.

Walter Pipp (4:46 P.M.): So I heard that someone pulled the fire alarm at the dance last night. Would have been a total bust anyway. ;)

Walter Pipp (6:24 P.M.): I know I'm being a freak for pestering you so much. Just want to know how things are going. Maybe you haven't even checked your phone, Hell maybe you left it at home. I guess I'll see you tomorrow?

Mai's phone has been on the table the whole time. She has heard every ring, every buzz, and cringed every time. Now after reading she feels compelled to reply. His obvious concern about her family sickens her. It's just another lie, another story she has to throw together, another "family emergency", and this time it's Walt.

He's a good friend.

Her thumbs do a contemplating waltz in the air above the phones keyboard. They are trying to find the right words, the right story, the right lie. After a few emotionally frustrating seconds, she typing out her answer, testing the waters, seeing if this will be the falsehood she'll stick with.

Mai Winchester (8:13 P.M.): Hi. No, everything's okay now, it wasn't a very serious heart attack, the doctors got him through, we're driving home now. I'll see you tomorrow.

Mai hit's send and feels dirty.

Jett is standing in the kitchen when Mai entered the room. Lying to her best and only friend deserves some emotional eating, and there just so happens to be two pints of ice cream in the freezer. Without a word to her guest, she removes Rocky Road and Strawberry and hunts for a spoon.

"You want some?" She asks Jett as she grabs a bowl.

"Sure."

"Rocky Road, strawberry, or both?" She spoons a hefty amount of Rocky Road into one of the bowls then adds half a scoop of the strawberry.

"Both I guess." He continues standing in the middle of the room. His face is puffy his eyes are dull from recently waking up from his second nap that day.

Mai serves him equal amounts of both flavors then shoves the containers back in the freezer. If he weren't there she would have eaten it straight from the carton and sat on the floor. Then again if he weren't there, she wouldn't have a reason to lie to her friend and emotionally eat her guilt. Instead she hands him his bowl. They stand in the center of the room together, eating the frozen creaminess and not making eye contact. Neither understands why they don't sit down, but standing feels the most comfortable, strangely. Amid the clatter of spoons scraping bowls Jett asks her a question.

"What do you do around here? Like for entertainment?"

Mai's taken a little aback by that comment, as if he's accusing her home (and by default, her) of being boring. She sees that as an overreaction instantly, but still feels the need to reassure him of how fun her house is. She tries to think of the "million things" she does around her for fun, but every one escapes her brain. Looking back, she can't think of anything that's really enjoyable. These past two years all she's really done is exist in the house. Go to school, do hunting research, go shopping down at Speedy Hut. She can't think of one thing she's done to make herself happy. Except for the dance she missed. That was her first solid move towards fun in a long time. And par for course on her life, she didn't get to attend.

"Nothing." She says honestly, feeding another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

"Okay then." He too takes another mouthful.

"We have a TV and a bunch of old movies." She says trying to perk the conversation.

"I saw it in the living room." He adds, nodding his head.

The conversational distance between them is not uncomfortable for her. He's a stranger, she's offering him a place to stay and heal, is there really need to be buddy buddy and share hopes and dreams? She prefers keeping her distance from him anyway. He will be leaving soon, and for all she knows he can be dead within the next month. Getting close to a hunter just doesn't seem practical.

She glances up at him from under her bangs as the last bite of ice cream falls on her tongue. He is looking down at her, no longer eating, and below his furrowed brow he eyes are soft and kind. His mouth doesn't move from its straight stiff position. His hair sticks up in a number of directions from his nap. His bruises and scrapes wear down on him, making him look haggard and beat. He looks utterly terrible, but he still has something in him. Something that Mai can't discern. Something that makes him look less broken almost. His staring makes her shift in her spot and she feels an involuntary blush come on.

"Thanks for the ice cream." He says in slightly deeper voice than normal still looking down at her.

"You're welcome." And Mai places her bowl in the sink.