The next morning I checked out of the motel quickly, stealing another car and hitting the road. I hadn't actually slept the night before; I'd been so caught up with my own thoughts that sleep had been impossible, and by the time I reached Birmingham, Minnesota, I'd downed several cups of coffee.

The first thing I did was text Sam and Dean that I'd arrived safely, and then I turned my attention to how I was going to work the case. I was far too young to pass off as a cop of any sort, and I knew sneaking into the local high school wasn't going to work this time. Eventually I checked into a motel and settled down for the day, deciding I'd sneak into the coroner's office that night.

Mary was still there; the mortician apparently was still trying to figure out exactly how she'd died. The fact that the cause of death was still unknown put me in a grim frame of mind for what I'd find when I arrived at the mortuary, but I diligently shoved such thoughts from my head. I couldn't afford to think like that.

Sitting around all day left me free to think of so many things that I frankly didn't want to think of, so I plugged in my earbuds and pulled out John Winchester's journal, leafing through it. There was a small section in it about shape shifters, but it contained nothing that I didn't already know.

At last the sun set, and I hurriedly made my way to the hospital. The mortician left at eight at night, so I sat in my stolen car, munching on McDonalds, until eight thirty. Once I was confident that he would have left I slipped into the building, using the visitor's entrance to the hospital. At the elevator I was forced to ride for several floors until I was the only one on board, then pressed the button that would take me to the basement.

Patients, and visitors to those patients, had no reason to be down there, so I knew that if I got caught I was done for. My heart pounded as the elevator doors opened, and I half expected to see a security guard waiting on the other side for me. There was no one there, and I crept forward silently, drawing out the small flashlight I'd brought. With the mortician's departure for the day all the lights were out, and I didn't dare turn on any in the hallway. If someone came down and found them on, they would know instantly that there was an intruder afoot.

It didn't take me long to find the autopsy room. Large and white, dotted with metal slabs, the room reeked of hospital chemicals and of bodies left to sit in the open all day. Turning on the light to the room, I scanned along the rows of nametags on the doors to the holding cells until I found the one I needed; Mary Brookeheart.

With a deep breath I opened the door, pulling out the metal tray that held Mary's body. She jostled as I slid the tray out, legs bouncing from side to side. There was a white sheet over her body, and I gingerly lifted it up. As I caught sight of her face tears filled my eyes. Her grey eyes had been closed, but her face was frozen as it had been, twisted in her final expression of agony. With labored breaths I drew the sheet down further, and had to turn away before I became sick.

Someone had carved away her skin.

Starting just below her chin and running down the rest of her body, Mary was a mess of red skin and nerves. Blood was clotted over the exposed tissue, having dried there as she bled to death. I knew instantly what the missing skin represented. A shape shifter, shedding its skin to change between forms.

I forced myself to turn back to the body. Besides the fact that the majority of her skin had been peeled away, there was also a puncture wound in her abdomen, a thin slice that had likely penetrated vital organs. I understood what the coroner's issue had been. Which had killed Mary first; the wound that was presumably from a knife, or bleeding out from the torture inflicted upon her?

The answer to that question didn't really matter to my case. I had all that I needed here. I recovered Mary and closed her back within the storage container, wincing as I locked the metal door. It seemed so final, that metallic clang. Mary was dead, and no one would ever be able to speak with her again, would ever have their picture taken by her. She could no longer joke with her family and friends; she was forever gone from them.

I leaned against the doors that housed the deceased, considering. I had no doubt Mary would be going to heaven, and while one day everyone she'd cared about would be there too, would they really be able to see each other? According to Cas, the piece of you that was in heaven was trapped in memories, unable to experience anything new. That was for the living. So, even though Mary and her family would one day end up in the same place, they would still never see each other again. The thought broke my heart into little pieces.

I pushed that from my mind. I was starting to think about Cas's proposition, and I really wasn't in the right frame of mind for that. Shaking my head, I started back through the room, pausing as I heard footsteps.

I cursed quietly, slapping the light switch. I didn't dare turn on my flashlight as I was plunged into darkness; I felt my way in the dark until I found a place to hide. From what I could tell, I was sitting in between boxes of medical supplies underneath steel shelves pushed against a wall. Hopefully I was in a good enough positon that whoever was about to enter wouldn't see me.

A moment later they came in, and I blinked as the lights were again turned on. I didn't dare move; I hardly breathed. Just in front of me stalked a pair of brown boots, well-worn and bearing what looked like little flecks of blood. The thought made me shiver, and my hand inched towards the pocket knife I had on me.

There was a metallic scraping sound as whoever was there opened one of the body cells, and I frowned. Something told me this new person wasn't the mortician. So who were they?

"I know you're there," he said. "You might as well come out."

I almost jumped at the sound on his voice, holding my breath. Maybe he'd been talking to someone else, some third party lurking in the doorway. But when after a minute no one spoke or stepped into the room, I had to admit that he'd been talking to me. Reluctantly I crawled out of my hiding place, wishing I had thought to bring my angel blade to the hospital with me.

The man across the room from me wasn't even glancing in my direction, instead examining Mary's body. Tall and muscular, with neatly trimmed blond hair, he wore blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

"What do you think?" he asked. "I've never seen something like this."

I blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry?" I asked.

Now the man turned to me with chocolate brown eyes, raising an eyebrow. "You're a hunter, right? Have you seen anything like this before?"

"You're a hunter?" I asked.

"What else would I be?" he asked. Then he seemed to realize the stupidity of his words, because he made a face. "Ok, scratch that. Yes, I'm a hunter."

I nodded and stepped forward, drawing out my small vial of holy water. The man's eyes flashed to the canister, but before he could react I'd splashed him with the contents. For a moment he simply stood there in shock, then slowly reached up to wipe the water off his face. I held out the silver knife I'd had stuffed in my belt, and with a sigh he took it. The small cut he made on his wrist didn't boil or turn colors, so I determined that he was, in fact, what he said he was.

"Happy?" He asked. He looked slightly annoyed as he handed the knife back.

I nodded. "Had to check," I told him. "I'm Lucy." I held out my hand, and after eyeing it for a moment he reached out and shook it.

"Jackson," he told me. He sighed, glancing back to where Mary was. "So, have you seen anything like this before?"

I shook my head. "But I have a fairly good idea what did it."

Jackson's eyebrows rose again in surprise. "What?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Sorry. I don't work with others." I began to back away. Something about Jackson just didn't feel right; my instincts were urging me to get away from him. As a general rule my instincts were right, and I had learned to trust them. I had no idea what was off about him, just that I probably didn't want to find out while standing in a deserted hospital mortuary with him.

Jackson frowned. "Come on," he called. "We might as well work together. We're both here."

"Nope, sorry." I reached behind me to grab the door handle, twisting it open. Before Jackson could respond I was gone, all but running back up the hallway. I only relaxed once I was safely inside the elevator, slumping back against the wall. As I exited the hospital I pulled out my phone, hitting the speed dial button.

"Hey Dean," I said. "Have you ever heard of a hunter named Jackson?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line as Dean thought. "No," he told me. "But that doesn't mean much. Hunters don't really have a membership list. Hold on, let me put you on speaker."

"Hey Lucy," called Sam.

"Hey," I responded. "Have you heard of a hunter called Jackson?"

"Nope. Do you have a last name?" asked Sam.

I frowned. "No."

Dean sighed. "What's going on?" he asked. I quickly filled him in on what was happening, and both boys muttered several curses as I told them about what had happened to Mary.

"Do you want us to come help you?" asked Sam.

I paused. Did I? A part of me wanted to say yes, but the logical part of me knew that I needed to do this myself. Or maybe that was the prideful part of me. Either way, I had to do this alone.

"I've got it," I promised. "How's your case going?"

"We're thinking a djinn," Dean said. There was a sad note to his voice, remembering a past experience with one and the happy world it had shown him. I knew better than to comment on it; sometimes, Dean just needed to work through things on his own.

"Good luck," I said. Dean grunted in reply, and I sighed.

"I should go," I said. "I'll call you when I head to bed."

Both boys said goodbye, and I hung up the phone, sighing as I stuffed it back in my pocket. That hadn't gotten me anywhere.

There were too many security cameras for me to steal a car, so I started across the parking lot at a fast walk, planning to take one somewhere a little less watched. I paused as I heard a noise, a small clanking off to the side. Then an invisible force slammed me into a car, and I grunted as my elbow went through the glass.

I scrambled to my feet, whirling to face the demon coming at me with a grin. It held an angel blade in its hand, and now I was really wishing that I'd brought my own.

It charged, and I dove to the side to avoid the flashing metal. I rolled quickly to my feet, pulling out the flask of holy water and uncapping it. The demon screamed as the skin on its face sizzled, dropping the knife. I dove forward, grabbing for it, but just as I was about the hit the ground the demon grabbed me by my hair and yanked up. I cried out as its fingers dug into my scalp, and a moment later they were gone, the demon's hand moving to wrap around my throat. It lifted me with ease, not caring at all about how I was kicking and scratching at it.

What was it with demons and choking people? My vision started to go red, my lungs on fire, just like the first time I'd fought a demon. Like that time, it ended in the same way.

I gasped as I fell to the pavement, clutching at my throat as I panted. My vision slowly returned to normal, and only then did I glance up at my savior.

"Are you alright?" asked Jackson. He held out a hand to help me up, worry shining in his eyes, and I nodded.

"Fine, thanks." I ran my eyes up and down him; he stood beside where the demon had fallen, the angel blade it had dropped clutched in his hand. Jackson nodded and inspected the blade, then, after wiping it off on the demon's shirt, tucked it under his belt.

"Were you following me?" I asked. Now that I was not longer squaring off against a demon my uncertainties about Jackson were returning, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

Jackson shrugged. "You said you knew what happened to that girl. Yeah, I followed you. You would have too."

I sighed and made a face. He was right; I would have followed him had our positions been switched. The fact that he had done so had even been a good thing; it had just saved my life. As such, I was finding it a bit hard to find any purchase in making a case against him.

That didn't mean I needed to work with him. "Well, thanks for the help," I said. I started to back away, and Jackson rolled his eyes.

"Come on now," he said. "I just saved your life, you owe me."

My eyebrow rose. "I don't owe you a thing," I snapped. "You killed a demon; big whoop; that's your job."

Jackson sighed. "I'll just follow you again," he warned me. "So we might as well work together; it'll be easier for the both of us."

"I can be pretty hard to keep track of," I promised. I was still backing away, something that hadn't escaped Jackson's notice. He took a step forward, and when I immediately pulled out my pocket knife he held up his hands.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised. "Why don't you want to work with me?"

"I don't know you," I pointed out. Jackson nodded slowly, thinking.

"What if you did?" he asked. "Would you work with me then?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Depends on what you're like." I cocked my head to the side. "Why do you want to work with me so badly?"

Jackson flashed me a quick grin. "Because I've got good instincts about people, and I can tell you're a good hunter. I'm always looking to learn new tricks. Plus, you're very pretty." He again flashed me a quick grin, then paused. "You are an adult, right?" he asked. "You don't just look older than your age?"

I rolled my eyes. "None of your business. I have a boyfriend."

"Really?" Jackson's eyes were lit up with curiosity. "How do you manage that? Does he know what you are?"

I nodded. "He's the one who got me into the business."

Jackson nodded. "Cool. Ok. Well, I'd still like to see how you hunt."

I sighed; I could tell he wasn't going to leave the matter alone. "Fine," I agreed. "Meet me downtown in one hour. At the Starbucks next to the park."

Jackson nodded, apparently deciding not to ask where I would be going first that I needed an hour to meet him. "I'll be there," he promised. "And then we can work together?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. We'll see what happens." With that I turned and walked off, glancing back after reaching the end of the parking lot. The place where Jackson had just been standing was now empty; he'd left too. I hadn't even heard him walk off. All that was left was the dead demon, blood still soaking the ground beneath its torso. I quickly turned away, jogging across the street.

I took my time getting back to my motel room, winding in a random pattern through the streets and slipping in and out of crowds in case I was being followed still. Once my motel room door was locked behind me I dug my angel blade out of my bag, stuffing it into the back of my jeans. I added a small gun to my ankle, then made sure that everything I had brought to Minnesota with me was stuffed in my bag, ready for me to grab if I needed to leave quickly.

I was the first to arrive at the Starbucks, and I quickly grabbed a table in the back corner, sitting against the wall as I watched the door. By now a drizzle had started outside, and a fine mist had descended over the streets. When Jackson entered he had donned a navy blue windbreaker, pulling the hood up to shield his face from the rain, so it took me a moment to recognize him. At that point he was halfway across the room to me, and I scrambled to subtly pull out my gun. I set it in my lap, underneath my own jacket, barrel pointed right at him.

"So," he began. "What do you want to know?"

I shrugged. "Anything. Where are you from?"

"New Jersey," Jackson said. I crinkled my nose, and he laughed.

"What about you?" he asked.

I shook my head. "This is about you, not me. I'll ask the questions, you just answer them."

Jackson's eyebrow twitched. "If I'm going to spill all my family secrets, the least you can do is tell me a few things about you. A tradeoff."

"Our tradeoff is you tell me about yourself, and if I decide you're trustworthy I, a, don't kill you, and b, work with you."

"Please?" Jackson pleaded.

I sighed; the man was giving me a puppy dog face that I simply could not refuse. I'd always been a sucker for those, and it seemed that they were just as adorable on grown men as they were on little kids.

"New York." I didn't specify if I meant upstate or the city, leaving things to Jackson's imagination. "How did you get into hunting?"

"It just sort of happened," Jackson told me. "I was a teenager at the time. I was walking home from work when I saw this guy. He didn't look like he was up to any good, so I followed him. Turned out he was on his way to kill some vamps. When he caught me watching him he explained everything to me, and I decided to try my hand at the business. I just never stopped. Why should I?"

I nodded, stirring my cup of coffee.

"What about you?" asked Jackson. "You said your boyfriend got you into hunting?"

I nodded, thinking over my response carefully. "Not much to tell there. He saved my life, and I started to hunt. At the same time we started to go out, and the rest just fell into place."

"Is it serious?" asked Jackson. He studied me curiously, and I scowled.

"That's not really your business," I said. I ignored the gnawing of my stomach his mention of Cas was igniting. As of now, I wasn't sure where our relationship was headed. Chances were there very soon wouldn't be one.

"I guess it would need to be," he assumed. "I mean, for you to start running around at night chasing monsters together, you got to really love each other. And you've got to trust each other with your lives."

I paused, then smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah," I admitted. "We do."

I sighed, and Jackson hurried to ask another question. "What about family?" he asked. "Do you have any?"

I paused, unsure how to respond. My automatic response was to tell him that I had two older brothers, but that wasn't entirely true. What did it even mean that I hadn't even thought of Jackie and Peter at first?

It didn't matter either way. I couldn't risk divulging who they were. There were versions of the twins in this world, and though they weren't technically my little siblings, I would rather die than let something happen to them.

"I've got two older brothers," I answered. "What about you?"

Jackson shrugged. "I've got some brothers and sisters," he told me. "I don't really talk to them very much."

"Why not?"

Again Jackson shrugged. "We don't really have the same opinions on things," he confided. "It just never really ends well when we're all together."

I grimaced. "I'm sorry," I whispered. I gave Jackson a small smile, and he returned it. With a small shock I realized that I had meant my words. I sighed, leaning back in my seat to think. Did that mean that I was beginning to trust Jackson? I didn't think so; he was still too new, but I was at least no longer worried about him slitting my throat the moment I turned away.

"Ok," I said finally. "You can work with me. But you do as I say, when I say it. I'm in charge here, not you."

Jackson nodded, all serious looking, but a moment later a grin split his mouth. "Deal." He held out his hand, and reluctantly I took it. "So, Partner. What next?"