Disclaimer: Neither Jordan nor I own Supernatural.

A/N: Jordan: Okay! Wassup, peoples! Now, listen… We're very sorry that we haven't updated this story in like… forever. See, we have – what is it, three? -looks to Lyn-

Lyn: Three…

Jordan: -gasp- THREE stories that we're working on! But… we have finally gotten to work on a new chapter! YAYY!!

Lyn: Anyway… We got a review from a person named…

Jordan: SJM89!

Lyn: That's right! And we wanted to answer your question! So, we're not quite sure where exactly this story's gonna go… But we can tell you that you're on the right track…

Jordan: YUP! But… keep a-readin', folks! And reviewing!

Chapter Eight – Confrontation

Jordan lay on her back, what seemed like millions of pillows piled under her head and around her body. "This really sucks, Lyn… I hate not being able to throw myself around recklessly and endanger various body parts!" she yelled, gulping in a breath of air.

Lyn tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help rolling her eyes. "JJ, I know this," she reminded her friend. "Jacksonville, a year and a half ago? And St. Augustine, two years before that… And that run-in with the Grand Cherokee when I was eighteen… And that's not even counting the number of times I've had weapons pointed at my head or something similar. Come to think of it, you're a bit behind with your near-death experiences, Jordan!" she concluded with a joking grin.

"Argh! This is no time for joking… I don't like being stationary for long periods of time! It's not fun!" Jordan complained, her voice laced with boredom, annoyance, frustration, and more boredom.

"Then watch TV!" Lyn advised, tossing the remote toward Jordan's bed. "There's nothing on, but feel free. Read a book. Play pinball on your cell phone. Just nothing related to hunting. You are officially grounded for at least a few weeks. Doctor's and best friend's orders."

Jordan glared at Lyn and held her hand out, grabbing the remote and slamming it down on the bed next to her. "But I don't wanna!" she whined, sounding like a five-year-old who didn't want to go to bed.

Lyn sighed heavily and sat down cross-legged on the other bed, putting her elbows on her knees and resting her chin on her folded hands. "What do you want, then?" she asked wearily. "You know, within reason of what you can actually do right now."

"Uh… I wanna…" She paused, thoughtful for a moment. "I wanna play putt-putt golf!" she finally exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

Lyn stared for a good ten seconds before demanding, "You almost get killed and the first thing you wanna do is play freaking mini golf!?"

"Yeah! Y'know, I've always detested mini-golf… but now that I can't do it… I wanna do it! It's calling my name! The little multi-colored golf balls… Golf clubs that can conveniently become a dangerous weapon in no seconds flat!" She looked genuinely delighted, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Lyn.

There was a crooked grin on Lyn's features as she asked wryly, "This is because I won't let you handle any weapons, isn't it?"

"Heh… No! 'F course not!" Jordan said, chuckling humorlessly.

Lyn sighed heavily. "Fine. If I ask Wendy if there's anywhere to play mini-golf around here, will you stop complaining until you can stand properly and are actually able to go?"

Jordan pumped her fist in the air, which was quickly followed by, "Ow! Son of a bitch!" She glared straight ahead, annoyed to no end at her condition.

"Please try not to kill yourself," Lyn said with a sigh. "If you died now, I wouldn't even have anybody to kill for it."

Jordan's Impala went speeding down the highway at sixty, Lyn driving, as she had been for the past couple of weeks (much to Jordan's chagrin), and Jordan riding shotgun (very begrudgingly).

"Are we there yet?" Jordan whined impatiently.

"Yes, we're definitely there, JJ," Lyn said, smiling innocently. "Just go ahead and open your door and get out!"

"I resent that. You wish me harm after I already got hurt. That really hurts in here…" Jordan made a big show of pointing to her heart and shaking her head.

"You're sure it doesn't hurt your soul, JJ?" Lyn asked, grinning crookedly.

"Shut up, Lyn… So not in the mood… I wanna drive my car again! I wanna be able to drive so recklessly that you fear for your life! But noooo!" Jordan rolled her eyes and leaned back in the seat.

"I always fear for my life when you're behind the wheel," Lyn said with a grin. Then as her green eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror, they narrowed. The cause of this wasn't immediately noticeable, until she asked quietly, "Hey, Jordan, you see that black F-250 in the mirrors? Three, four car lengths back?"

Jordan's retort was stuck in her throat as she turned around and looked. "Yeah…"

Lyn paused for a second and muttered, "It's been behind us for twelve and a half miles and five turns…"

Jordan let out a shaky breath. "Great… Freakin' A…" She turned back around, watching in the side mirror; still, the truck made no sign of going anywhere but right behind them.

There was a moment of relative silence before Lyn shot Jordan a sideways look and asked slowly, "Okay… so… you up for something really stupid which will in the best case prove we're not being followed but worst case might result in a confrontation with whoever's driving that thing?"

"Always, Lyn… Always," Jordan said, looking over at Lyn with the side of her mouth turned up into a small smirk.

"Okay… I would say cross your fingers, but you're gonna need those to get the revolver out from under the seat. I'm gonna pull in that dead-end up ahead… if they follow, we have our answer. It's basically construction, so at least we'll have maneuvering room in that case. And if I have to stop the car, you trust me with our friend and high-tail it back to Harvelle's and get Jo and Wendy, it's just a little over half a mile. I did a little circling earlier, trying to ditch our friend… just head straight through the trees…"

"Lyn, I'm not leaving you with this person. God only knows who it is, or what they want," Jordan said, reaching under the seat and grabbing the revolver they kept there for safety.

"You're in no condition to stick around if it comes down to any sort of physical confrontation," Lyn shot back, giving Jordan a dark sort of sideways look. "Look, just trust me, okay? I'll be fine, I was training with Justin and Joey practically since I could walk. Just get Wendy and Jo. Anyway, you know me – I'm never unarmed."

She flashed a crooked grin and turned right into the dead end road she had been referring to earlier. She watched the rearview mirror more than the road as the car's wheels crunched on the gravel. Five seconds… ten… any second now…

And then the F-250 turned in after them, and Lyn's jaw set. So she was right. Well, she couldn't say she was surprised… "Okay, hang on to your britches," she muttered through clenched teeth. "I'm gonna try to circle around in this construction site and –"

Lyn's voice was cut off at the same time as the Ford cut off the turn she had just been making. She slammed on the brakes and threw the car into reverse, backing up in a clean arc around a bulldozer, but as she tried to pull out again, the truck again blocked their path. Yeah, definitely after us…

"On three," she whispered without moving her lips, slowly shifting into reverse again. "One… Two…" Please listen to me, Jordan, you're probably the one they're after… Just listen to me and go and I'll hold 'em off…

"Three!" she yelled, pressing the gas pedal to the floor and sending gravel flying as she spun the car a full 180 degrees, cutting off the Ford this time, and affording the passenger side of the car a clear path to the woods. "Go, now!" Lyn growled, abruptly shutting off the engine and pulling her Browning nine millimeter from the back of her waistband as she threw open the driver's side door.

Jordan looked from Lyn to the Ford, her brow creased. "But…" She trailed off, knowing that no matter what she said or did, Lyn would never back down. So instead of arguing, she pushed the passenger door open, clutching the revolver in her right hand as she bent down and started to run toward the woods.

As Lyn dodged behind the car, the truck's driver's side door opened soundlessly, but the man inside it gave a low growl as he stepped out. He was a couple of inches taller than Lyn's far-from-diminutive five foot nine, but that was the only defining characteristic that could be made out. He was wearing a heavy gray trenchcoat, a black hat pulled low over his eyes, and a scarf wrapped around his neck and face. It could be no accident, Lyn knew instantly; he was trying to hide his identity.

That was when she spotted the rifle in his hands and her eyes widened. "Drop it or I drop you!" she ordered, aiming over the hood of the car at the man, who growled something that sounded like a curse and dodged back behind his own truck. Lyn's eyes narrowed again and shifted from right to left suspiciously; he was up to something, she could tell already.

It was the pounding of heavy boots that alerted her to the fact that he was making a break for it – but not in the direction he should be running, which was away from her. He was about to pass right by the car, from the sound of it. Running after Jordan.

Lyn had just enough time to throw herself around the side of the car before he passed by; as she had predicted, he fired as he went, the bullet leaving a deep scratch in the side of the car as it sped through the place she had been crouched just a second before. Jordan'll have your head for that – but she's out of sight, you'll have to deal with me first…

Two rounds were fired from Lyn's nine millimeter before she had even fully stood up, but the man had ducked low and half jumped headfirst into the trees, dodging the first shot and causing the second to be buried in the bark. Dadburn it, he's not bad…

Lyn growled, too, as she set off after him, burying a couple more bullets in the trees for cover as she crossed the distance between the vehicles and the woods. She was convinced that the chase through the trees would be her advantage. She was from Tennessee, she grew up in the country; the woods were her turf. Surprisingly, though, the man kept a good stride a short distance ahead of her and to her right.

Okay, he's better than I thought, she grudgingly admitted to herself, picking up the pace and clearing a pair of fallen pines in one jump. Just gotta buy a little more time… Jordan, you better be freaking running, because this is gonna be risky enough without the chance you'll hear and try to act stupid and turn around…

Upon hearing heavy footsteps behind her, Jordan turned her head. "Shit!" she muttered to herself. There was a man following her – holding a rifle in hand and gaining fast. She sped up, starting to sprint and panicking slightly.

Crap – no choice, now. Here goes nothing. Lyn set hew jaw and switched her nine millimeter to her left hand, pulling a short throwing dagger from her pocket with her right. She only allowed herself a couple of seconds to aim – there just wasn't enough time – but her throw was right on the mark. The blade caught in the shoulder of the trenchcoat, pinning it to a tree.

And here comes the stupid part. Lyn didn't give herself time to do more than take a deep breath, because otherwise it was likely she would have thought twice. Instead, she put on a sudden burst of speed, cut to the right, and barreled straight into the man in the trenchcoat, pulling him free from the tree but sending both of their weapons flying.

"KEEP RUNNING!" she thundered just before she tumbled over and hit the ground, the breath knocked out of her as the man she had just tackled fell on top of her. He then went thudding off and onto the ground as they both were sent sliding through the fallen pine needles from the force of her momentum and slammed into trees a couple of feet apart.

Jordan's eyes bulged as she watched Lyn tackle the guy to the ground; watched them slide, watched them come to a stop. Then Lyn's words sank in, and Jordan turned and started running as fast as she could toward what she hoped was the Roadhouse.

The man growled low under his breath as he stood, and Lyn rolled over quickly and regained her feet, pulling another, longer blade from the thigh pocket of her pants. Her eyes glared daggers into his as she realized for the first time that he had lost his hat – of course he had, he had been running through woods and tackled to the ground, for heaven's sake – and his eyes were visible.

They were a perfectly inconspicuous shade of hazel – blue and light brown, and narrowed to slits. They made him look dangerous, but not as much so as the long machete that he proceeded to pull from somewhere inside his trenchcoat. It gleamed in a patch of sunlight that filtered through the leaves, drawing Lyn's gaze and making her heart skip a beat.

No, she was overreacting. She could do this. She had fought stronger opponents with larger weapons before, this would be no different. It was all a matter of experience and determination, and she had no small supply of both. And her green eyes narrowed, too, as she thought firmly, And I won't underestimate him this time.

Jordan broke through the trees, nearly tripping on a protruding tree root on her way out, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the Roadhouse about three hundred yards away.

Okay, Lyn, focus. You need to stall. Let's try talking. First question should be obvious enough. "Why are you after us!?" she demanded in a rather coarse voice, her eyes fixed on his for any sign of his intent. That was simple enough; she could read the expression in them. Cold, meticulous, calculating… murderous. He was out for blood, that much was clear.

A louder, deeper growl escaped the man's throat as he suddenly lunged, swinging the machete like a samurai sword and then following up with a sharp jab, the first of which Lyn backstepped to dodge and the second of which she had to jump behind a tree to avoid.

"Not very talkative?" she asked, concentrating on keeping her voice level and her ears pricked for any sound of movement. He was advancing, that much was certain; his boots were too heavy and made noise in the pine needles even when he was trying to be stealthy. Lyn counted the steps carefully, gauging his distance; he seemed to be teetering on the edge of indecision, walking a line between attacking her and taking off after Jordan again. Lyn tightened her grip on her own blade and resolved to force him to choose the former.

As it stood, the only advantage she had was surprise, and Lyn was never one to squander her advantages. Gritting her teeth, she suddenly leapt out swinging, ripping the sleeve of his trenchcoat in two places before he retaliated. This time she wasn't fast enough on the retreat to completely dodge his attacks and was dealt a cut on her left forearm for her trouble.

There was no time to check how deep it was, just to let out a low hiss of pain, because the next second he took a heavy swing at her head. It was close that time, so close that she could feel the blade against a few errant strands of hair as she ducked. But his attacks were getting wilder, and as he brought the machete down with what seemed like all his strength and Lyn rolled to the side, her knife sliced into the black material that made up his pant leg.

She wasn't sure whether the blade had actually brought blood when she had cut his sleeve or not, but this time it definitely hit home. Still he didn't speak, just groaned in pain and staggered, and Lyn took advantage of that to kick out hard with her left leg – and her foot connected with the machete, knocking it out of his hands and sending it flying a few yards to one side.

The man was disarmed, but definitely still capable of dealing out damage, because the blow he suddenly landed on her right shoulder sent bolts of pain down her whole side. This time it was Lyn who staggered backward, dropping her own blade and nearly falling over from the sheer force of the pain and contemplating the idea that her shoulder might be dislocated.

So now it was down to hand-to-hand combat with a man who was out for her blood, and she could barely move her right arm. Lyn's eyes were wider now and she was breathing heavily as she sidestepped a powerful uppercut and nearly twisted her ankle in a tree root while struggling to put more distance between them, mentally calling, Come on, Jordan…

Jordan burst into the roadhouse, sweat beading on her face and neck. "Wendy!? Jo!?" she cried, almost yelling. About ten hunters turned around, raising their eyebrows at her appearance. "Heh… finally! Been wanting a beer for hours!" She turned around and backed toward the counter, where Wendy was staring at her as if she thought she were insane. Thankfully, there was only one hunter at the counter within earshot; he seemed drunk, thankfully. "Lyn… pickup truck… woods… running… guns… come… now!"

Wendy dropped the three-quarters-empty bottle of tequila she had been pouring into a glass for the drunk hunter, and before it shattered against the ground she had already hissed out, "Where is she!? Is it a demon!?"

Jo hurried into the room upon hearing glass breaking, and her eyes instantly landed on Jordan, covered in dirt and sweat. "What happened!? I heard glass break. And why do you look homeless!?"

"Lyn and the dude in the big pickup. They're fighting in the woods. I have no idea who or what he is. He was covered from head to toe with clothes or some sort of accessory. I ran from the Impala and he was following us and then he came running after me. Lyn's still out there fighting him," Jordan finished, all in one breath, gasping for air at the end of her speech.

"Oh, God," Wendy breathed, her eyes round as silver dollars.

"Hey, toots, c'n I geh mah t'keeluh now?" slurred the drunk guy at the bar.

Wendy ignored him and looked to Jo. "We've gotta go, she could be in trouble. You've got weapons in back, right? We'll have to go that way, too many eyes on Jordan here."

"Yeah… let's hurry." Jo grabbed Jordan's wrist and pulled her through a door in the back to a small, pitch black room. Jo flicked a switch, and Jordan's eyes went wide as they swept the room. It was filled from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, with so many different kinds of weapons and hunting equipment that it made her palms sweaty.

Jordan walked over to one of the racks and lifted a gun belt off it. She strapped it to her waist and filled it with knives and a pair of guns before grabbing a shotgun and holding it in her right hand.

"Come on," Wendy said, her jaw set and her icy eyes hard as she shouldered a rifle and stowed a revolver in the waistband of her jeans. "We should hurry. Lyn's good, but she probably isn't packing more than her nine mil and a couple of knives if she wasn't expecting trouble."

Jo grabbed a few knives and a pistol and ordered, "Let's go." She then pushed her way out of the back door, followed closely by Jordan and Wendy.

Lyn held her right arm close to her side protectively, trying her hardest to ignore the pain that was still bolting through her shoulder and side. She had landed one good punch that had left a cut on the man's eyebrow, but he had retaliated by landing a kick on her right side, which had only added to the agony so that her teeth were now clenched hard in an effort to keep silent as she backed away.

The slash to his trenchcoat sleeve had apparently wounded him, after all, which was just about all that Lyn could see as having improved, so far. The sleeve was bloody, and he was limping slightly on the leg she had stabbed, but still he kept advancing. Why was he so determined to kill her!? And who was he, anyway!? There was something almost familiar about him…

"You a mute or just hiding something?" she growled, trying her hardest to keep her voice unaffected by her current state. He didn't say anything, didn't even seem to care that she had spoken. He just kept advancing, and Lyn kept retreating, trying simultaneously to keep a distance between them and not stray too far from where they had begun this fight. She couldn't afford to go too far, or the others might not be able to find them.

He lunged forward again, and Lyn sidestepped, dodging his blow but slamming into a tree. She let out a low hiss of pain and the next second he was swinging again, splitting her lip and throwing her back a couple of feet against yet another tree. For some reason, though, he didn't approach again; just watched her slam into the bark, which dug gashes in the side of her left arm as she tried to catch herself. She blinked once, slightly dazed, and focused on not falling over. Jordan wouldn't be much longer, just a few more minutes. Lyn could hold out for a few more minutes.

"You are, aren't you?" she coughed out, shaking back her hair and trying to ignore the blood in her mouth. "You're someone I know, that's why you're hiding your face and not talking. That's why your fighting style's familiar, that's why you know mine. Who are you?"

For a moment, Lyn thought he was taken aback by what she had said, because he took a step backward. Then he knelt down and for a split second she thought maybe the leg wound was getting to him. But he wasn't buckling, he was conspiring, because a second later his left hand stretched out toward the ground. Lyn's heart skipped a beat and then started pounding double-time as she saw her own Browning pistol within easy reach of where he was crouched on the ground.

Time almost seemed to enter suspended animation as her mind started working even faster than her heart and she weighed her options. Running wouldn't help now, he was too close, and the nine mil still had two rounds in it. She could try to dodge, but that wasn't likely at this range. Attacking was no go, either; it would only put her closer when he got his hands on the gun. She still had one throwing dagger left, but it was in her right pocket, and that would be hard to reach with her left hand and almost impossible to throw with her right, which she could barely move.

I'm gonna die. The thought seemed almost ludicrous as it echoed inside her head. He's gonna shoot me with my own gun, and I'm gonna die out here. … No, I'm not, dadburn it! Jordan's safe, she and Wendy and Jo are coming, I'm not giving up before it's even over. Her eyes were frantic and her fingers fumbled as she tried to reach the knife in her pocket.

There was a resounding crack as a gunshot split the silence, and Lyn blinked, confused. She didn't feel anything. Well, nothing that she hadn't felt before, anyway. Then she heard the wordless yell of the man in the trenchcoat, watched him disappear into the trees. And then a second later came the sound of Wendy cursing at the top of her lungs, and Lyn closed her eyes in relief. No, nobody was dying here today. Not this time.

"Dammit, he moved right when I had a clean shot," Wendy growled, running after him and giving chase, but there was no use. His retreating back was already lost among the trees.

Jo looked around, keeping guard, while Jordan ran over to Lyn. "Hey, hey, hey! You okay? Sorry it took so long… damn amazing weapons room distracted me for a few minutes." She looked her friend over and said, "I told you I shoulda stayed… Can you walk? We gotta get outta here. Sonuva bitch could come back soon…"

"I'll be fine," Lyn said coarsely, shaking her head. "Ain't nothing wrong with my legs, though I'm mildly surprised he can still run after I stabbed his… Seriously, I'll live. Trust me." She forced a crooked grin, which made her wince and dab at the cut on her lip with the back of her hand. Probably not a smart move, if she had thought about it, because it just showed off the knife wound on her forearm.

"Jesus… Lyn, let's go. We gotta get you cleaned up. Jo, will you and Wendy be okay?" Jordan asked, looking up at Jo.

"Yeah, we'll be fine. Hurry up and haul ass outta here in case he gets away."

"'Kay. Up an' at 'em, Lyn…" Jordan's brow wrinkled as she helped Lyn up.

"Okay, okay, okay – new rule," Lyn said with a grimace as she regained her feet. "No touching my arms. The left one's obvious, but I think he might've dislocated my right shoulder. And somebody get my gun and knives, dadburn it…"

Jordan rolled her eyes and looked around, seeing a few knives lying a few feet away from each other and grabbing them, but not seeing the gun, though. "I think the dude took your gun… Let's just get out of here!" Jordan stuffed the knives in the holster around her waist and started walking, Lyn right behind her.

"Freaking thief… Fine, but you're wrong, anyway. I was right to have you run, he was after you first. And there's something else…" Lyn paused for a second and said slowly, "I think we might know him. He kept his face covered, wouldn't talk… and he knew how I fight."

Jordan breathed a sigh of relief when she could finally see her car again and there was no F-250 in sight, but her brow furrowed after hearing Lyn's words. "Maybe he's just good at anticipating stuff? Or maybe he's got the Shining. I think I'd prefer that to the alternative…" She grinned, sideglancing Lyn.

"Oh, my baby! I missed you so much! I – who the – what the!? WHO THE HELL SCRATCHED MY CAR!? SON OF A BITCH!" she yelled upon finally reaching her car.

"Yeah… that would be from where he almost shot me… But I'm fine, thanks for asking," Lyn said, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, I'm glad you're fine… BUT I'M SERIOUSLY GONNA KILL THAT SON OF A BITCH! I DON'T CARE IF WE KNOW HIM!" she almost screamed, opening the passenger-side door for Lyn.

"Well, I guess there's good news for you, anyway," Lyn said, smirking. "You get to drive again!"

"Shut up…" Jordan closed the door behind Lyn, skulked around to the other side of the car, pulling open the driver's side door, getting in, and slamming it behind her. "That sonuva bitch will pay…" she muttered under her breath before starting up the car and speeding off without a second glance behind her.