Since Mae didn't want him to touch her right then, Dean took the plastic covering off one of the plastic cups next to the sink, filled it with water, and handed it to her. She glared at tit a moment but took it. She took a generous swig of water before standing as she swished it around her mouth and spit it in the skin. Dean sat on the edge of the tub, waiting. He didn't know what more he could do for her.

"Thanks," she said.

Their eyes connected in the mirror. Dean usually thought he could read even her oddest expressions but right then, he didn't know what she was thinking. He wondered if she was even herself. If, despite his assertion to the contrary, she was under the influence of a creature, his need to take care of her could easily be used against him. There was nothing say she wouldn't attack him too. Or that whatever had taken Down Sam the first time wouldn't come back to finish the job. He had to hope that wasn't the case and that shoring up salt lines and protective symbols would be enough. He believed that Mae was just as much a victim as Sam or any of the other people who had been drained. It didn't seem like Mae had suffered the same fate though. She was more sallow than normal, there were still dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was a frizzy disarray. But she didn't need medical attention.

"So, what happened?" He finally asked.

Her mouth drew together in a frown before she took a sip of water, this time swallowing it. "What do you mean?"

Dean shrugged. It could have looked casual to the untrained observer, but she knew he braced for something. She couldn't say what. Because nothing had happened. His questioning gaze made her think, going over everything since she woke, before she fell asleep and she came up with nothing significant, aside from her sudden rush of nausea.

"I got sick, that's all. But I seriously have to pee now so...you could leave."

"Go right ahead but I'm not leaving."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. You don't have anything I haven't seen before."

She eyed him, wondering why kind of game he was playing with her now. Something was wrong and she was unsure why he wasn't saying more. "And you think this is your chance to see more?"

"Listen, you can make a thing out of this and try to force me out. But I'm not leaving. Or you can just go."

She sighed. At that point, she was going to the bathroom whether Dean was there or not. There was no way to be casual, so she tried to cover herself as much as possible as she sat to pee. To his credit, she thought, he tried to avoid looking directly at her. "This is weird, even for you. Can you at least tell me why I'm peeing under supervision?"

"You don't...remember anything?"

She turned to face him now. "I remember you annoy me."

"Nothing during the night?"

Her frown deepened as she finished going to the bathroom. "You handcuffed me to the bed. We talked. Then we went to sleep." she tried to remember if she had even dreamed, "and then I woke up feeling like..."

"Like what?"

"Like..." she paused a moment, pulling up her pants, flushing the toilet, and moving to the sink to wash her hands. "I guess, if I'd been drinking, I'd think I was hungover. Not the worst I've ever been but not great. But I was sober. Unless... I woke up, drank a shit ton, and locked myself back up. I think one of us would have noticed that." she turned off the water, shook water off her hands, and dried them, thinking. "I wasn't hand cuffed when I woke up. Why?"

Dean watched her more intently now, wondering if he would even be able to tell what was wrong with her, if something was wrong with her. "I unlocked them."

"Why? The whole point was to make sure there was at least a little something to stop me from..." her eyes narrowed, mind trying to piece the hints Dean had dropped together, "what did I do?"

"I don't think you did anything."

Rolling her eyes did little to help her or calm her nagging headache but she couldn't resist. "Well, that explains all this then."

Dean stood an put his hands on her shoulders, kneading the tension there. She didn't push him away. It felt too good to make him stop. "I was worried, okay? I... I don't know, I thought I'd be able to tell for sure."

"I hope you know what you're talking about because I'm not totally sure what happened here."

He recounted what had happened, or at least the parts he had witnessed, what Sam though had happened, and what he thought had happened. Dean didn't think Mae had any more information. He was pretty sure she wouldn't have had a memory of anything thing that went down after she fell asleep. He still hoped there was something he had over looked.

"You saw something run out and I was still in bed?" Mae asked.

"Yeah. I know you were. That doesn't mean you're not...involved."

"No, it doesn't."

"So, what do you want to do next?"


What she had wanted to do was see outside of herself and know exactly what had happened. Since that was not an option, she opted for a shower. To her surprise, Dean left the bathroom, leaving her to shower on her own. He had been so intent on not leaving her side before. With a small sigh, she removed the borrowed clothing, turned the water on, and gingerly thrust a hand inside the shower, waiting for it to warm up. When the temperature was bearable, she stepped inside.

As the hot water ran over her head and down her back, she tried to think. There wasn't anything there. It didn't feel like missing time. She didn't remember anything that Dean told her had happened. She believed him; she just didn't have the recollection. She'd fallen asleep, feeling relatively safe, with Dean's arm draped firmly over her waist. She didn't try to fight sleep. She remembered feeling quite nearly content with him beside her. Then she was up, a headache trying to thread its way through her thought. Real misery around the pain couldn't set in because she had felt violently ill, as if her body had to purge the poison from her body. Poison, she wondered, as the word rolled over her mind. Was that the right word? She didn't know but that's what her body told her. Some kind of foreign substance or influence. But what? And how?

Maybe it had attacked her first and then moved on to Sam. But it didn't wake her or Dean. Or Sam. It didn't seem to go after Dean at all. Whatever-no, she corrected herself, the kitsune, was confusing and inconsistent. She was convinced it was a kitsune. One that had been trailing her since the last job. At least one. They were loyal to each other one and could be vengeful. She assumed she was now the focus of that vengeance. But it didn't entirely make sense to her. There were worst things to do to her than leave a path of destruction. Maybe it had tried to possess her in the past but if that were the case, why not try it last night. It had obviously entered the room but how? And if it didn't possess her, then what had Sam encountered? Had it moved from random men to the ones she knew? That would make more sense, but it still didn't explain how it all fit together. Dean would have been a better target. He likely wouldn't have questioned it if she started kissing him, not at first anyway.

From Dean's description, Sam had felt overcome with a desire not his own and had perhaps been seduced. Charmed was more like it. It wasn't outside of the powers or a kitsune, she thought. They often lured men that way and were almost always described as beautiful women. That was not a way she thought Sam would describe her, but he had been convinced that it was her. It could have looked like her. If a kitsune could transform from a fox to a woman, there was nothing saying it couldn't transform into a specific woman. Perhaps it was trying to exact its revenge on her by using her visage to kill men. Did they have that much understanding of a human legal system to set her up or was it just random violence, taking advantage of the powers and magics it possessed?

The latter seemed more likely. So, maybe this fox felt she had wrong it by killing its friend or relative or mate. Then, it had been able to transform to look like her. How did the time loss, the destruction of her clothes, the ones that had been left in their place, or the astonishing amount of booze fit in? Had it done that to her or had she done it to herself? She wasn't sure but a scenario started to develop in her mind. Perhaps the boys could tell her if it made sense to them too. Mae realized she had been standing under the comforting stream of water but not actually showering. Now, with a military efficiency, she scrubbed her body with soap and washcloth and washed her hair, grateful for the products, even if they weren't her preference. It felt delightful to wash the stresses of the past day and a half off.

She was surprised, and a little disappointed, Dean hadn't joined her in the shower. That would have been more enjoyable for both of them than watching her pee. He must be worried and not entirely convinced that she wasn't the thing that had attacked Sam. Hell, she wasn't sure it wasn't her either. Or perhaps he genuinely wanted to keep his distance. Logistics deemed they share a bed but there wasn't any reason for them to be closer than that. Well, one of them could have shared with Sam, she supposed, but that idea was more uncomfortable. There was something insanely normal feeling about being so close to Dean, being curled together, and just being able to sleep peacefully. Ultimately, Mae decided it didn't matter.

When she got out of the shower, she found her borrowed shirt and sweatpants were gone. She found a fresh set of clothes folded neatly on the counter. So, Dean had slipped back into the bathroom, unnoticed, perhaps to check on her, and left her something to change into. She found the move oddly thoughtful, and she wasn't sure what to think of it.


His body always stirred upon seeing her. The ways and reasons behind it always differed but now Dean wondered it was anything like Sam experienced. Sure, he was willing to do whatever Mae asked, whatever she wanted, but it wasn't an uncontrolled response. He could just as easily resist. He was attracted to her. He wanted her. But not to the exclusion of anything else. He didn't freeze when he saw her. It didn't seem any different for him. No, the way he felt about her was something completely ordinary. He desperately wanted to believe that everything was normal. He couldn't rely on that alone though, he knew. This was still a job and there were too many unknowns. It was nothing like Sam described and everything that he was used to with her. She was wearing the clothes he'd left her. They dwarfed her frame, offering almost no hints of her lean figure. Dean found it oddly appealing, maybe because it was a way, he wasn't accustomed to seeing a woman he was attracted to, he thought.

"Hey, so I tried to see if Sammy had a spare bra for you, but I don't think you're the same size."

Mae rolled her eyes, but she hid an amused smirk as she turned away from him. "I think I'll get by."

Dean tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans on the other side of the room, trying to keep from pacing. "He did donate the sweats though."

"Well, thanks for everything, you know? Maybe we can make a stop and pick up some normal clothes today."

"Yeah sure."

He watched as she caught the scent of acrid coffee on the air. Sam has put it on before deciding he was already too jittery for it. Her feet were too small for the borrowed socks, but she didn't complain as she walked to the coffee maker, grabbed a cup, and poured the dark liquid. Mae took a sip.

"This coffee is really terrible," She said, with an almost wistful sigh as she waited for the caffeine to hit her system. She opened her eyes and frowned as she scanned the room. "Where's Sam?"

She wasn't sure she had ever taken the room in. All motels blurred together after a while. This one had a motif stuck somewhere between desert southwest and mountains. The bedspread on each bed were fading rows of cream and turquoise hued lines with black southwestern style pyramids across several of them. The dressers and nightstand were rustic pine as was the head and foot boards of the beds. But the wooden slats were still the right size for a set of handcuffs.

The rustic styling didn't extend to the small dining area, with a round table that had metal legs and a dingy looking fake wood laminate top, flanked by four straight backed wooden chairs, a short counter also topped with laminate of mixed browns and blues that held a coffee maker, sink, and a microwave, and next to the counter, a small refrigerator.

The one part of the room decor that didn't scream standard motel was the artwork. That consisted of photography of what Mae assumed was the red hills of the Red Cliffs Desert Reserve she recalled from some of the information on St. George she had read earlier. They might have been present in every room of this motel but at least they weren't classic motel art, she thought.

Dean's voice paused her thoughts. After a heavy sigh, began. "He felt...out of sorts." Mae's brow rose at the words. She thought that's exactly what Sam must have told his brother, but she said nothing. "And he wanted to get some air."

Hostility clung to Dean's words, even as he tried to keep them even. "Air? It's 6am."

"Yeah well..."

"Is that the best idea?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"Of course not."

"But that thing is still-"

"You think you've come up with a reason I didn't already?" He snapped at her, pacing now. Mae blinked, taking another drink of coffee, and waited. After a several minutes, he finally sighed and raked a hand through his short-cropped hair. "I know it's a bad idea but...he wasn't going to stay here. Especially with you..."

He trailed off and gestured to her, as if that provided any real explanation. "Even after I showered and got into his pants?"

A small laugh made its way past the scowl on Dean's face. "I don't thing that jumped him wasn't you. I think if he thinks about it, he knows that too. But he had this feeling like you kissed him, and he liked it. He can't shake it. So, it's weird."

"Well, I have zero recollection of that so if it was me, he's an unremarkable kisser."

The grimace wasn't something he could totally hide. He knew she was trying to lighten the mood. "Or it wasn't you."

"Or it wasn't me."

"But it's not like he was safe while we were all here. He was attacked while were all in the same room. So, I don't know." Dean, not sure what else to do with himself, walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. "I suppose we should get to it too."

Making an agreeing sound in the back of her throat, she nodded. She finished her coffee and turned away from him to rinse the mug. With her back still to him, she decided to lay out the thoughts that had come to her in the shower. "Hey, so I was thinking. Earlier, you said you didn't know exactly how to tell if I wasn't me. I think I figured it out, some of it anyway."

"That's some shower. So how do I tell?"

"I don't think I figured out how to tell. I think at some point I had. I just don't exactly remember what I figured out. We assumed that maybe I was possessed or something and during that time, I was on an epic bender, wearing booty shorts and crop tops."

"Which I very much would enjoy under other circumstances."

Mae rolled her eyes. "I think they'll be tight on you but you're welcome to them. Anyway, if I was thinking clearly then, I would have had the same concern about if the kitsune was possessing me or using me ins some way. I remember legend says that if they drink too much, they have trouble holding human form. Sometimes, when they transform, they still have tails that they have to hide and they can't do it drunk."

Now he admired her as she dried the mug and returned it to its place among the others. "So, you think you got yourself drunk and tried to dress up to expose the kitsune, if it was taking you out for a spin."

She shrugged as she walked back across the room, stopping at her mostly empty bag sitting on the dresser and took her brush out. She moved again and sat on the edge of the bed to brush her hair. "Maybe. If it was possessing me, maybe I thought all that would make it harder. I mean...it's what I'd do now, if I thought the same thing was happening. And maybe I shredded my clothes so it couldn't use them or maybe it shredded them to get back at me. I don't know. But what made me think maybe I figured something out is that when I came to the first time, I felt sick. At first, I thought it was because of the booze, and while it didn't help...I felt pretty similar when I woke up this time. I was definitely hungover but there's something more to this. I feel...worn out, even though I just woke up."

"And you were out cold."

"Yeah. So, it's doing something to me. I don't know what. But it's not the same thing that happens to men."

"And then it went after Sam after it did...whatever to you."

"Yeah. I don't know. Maybe what we originally thought was true and this thing really is possessing me."

He watched as she brushed out her still damp hair, feeling oddly mesmerized by the movement of her hands. Dean cleared his throat, "You were in bed with me all night last night and while that thing was fast, it wasn't fast enough to take out Sam and get back in bed and still be there when I woke up to chase it out. It might be connected to you but it's not possessing you."

"You still don't believe it's a kitsune?"

He shrugged. "It...it doesn't really matter to me what it is, except for knowing how to kill it. I just wanted to be prepared if it's something else. But I can believe it's a kitsune."

Dean put a hand on her knee, causing her to forget anything else she was going to say. She looked at him, not sure what she wanted in that moment. The problem, the logical part of her brain told her, was that she knew exactly what she wanted but this might have been a supportive gesture, not anything more. His hand rest atop her knee too long to be accidental, not long enough for her liking. Those hands of his were so warm, strong but capable of such kindness and tenderness. Even that bare hint of a touch, that short connection set the rest of her body alight. Her heat sped up and her body craved, demanded more.

The man was too damn handsome for his own good. Certainly, for her own good. His lips were soft and inviting but balanced out but the scruff of his almost perpetual stubble when he kissed her. They locked eyes. His eyes were a beautiful hazel green but the always seemed to shift green in moments of passion.

He was too close for her to keep ignoring, for her body to keep ignoring. She raised her free hand rested on his chest and she wasn't sure if it was to push him away or just touch him. Feeling the powerful muscles, hidden from view by the black t-shirt convinced her to relax her hand and close her eyes. Her mind threw images of his lightly tanned skin and strong body against her eyelids. He smelled amazing too, masculine, and earthy with just a lingering hint of cologne of aftershave. Nothing overpowering but incredibly provocative. God, she wanted him, she needed him. But she would be damned if gave in first. Three seconds of his hand in contact with hers was hardly erotic, nor should it have left her practically vibrating for more. But it did.

His mouth fell on hers. It was passionate but not out of control. She knew she could stop him if she wanted. As she met his need, she was certain he could stop her too. But neither wanted that. They both had the warnings in the back of their mind that this was not what they should be doing in this moment, that they should focus on the job, and that there was a distinct possibility that Mae was possessed or being used by some creature. It had jumped Sam and sapped him of enough energy to knock him out.

Dean also knew that pursing contact with her, offering willingly to her was dangerous for entirely other reasons and it could potentially make whatever happened when the job was done much harder. If he was wrong and the creature was a part of her, it has more than enough opportunity for it to attack him too. Those warnings did little to temper the exquisite feeling of his warm, rough hand against her soft skin as one slid under her shirt. His touch radiated warmth through her entire body, making her aware that she had felt cold for days. How, she wondered, could just a hand moving over her stomach feel so amazing? His touch was thoughtful, caring as he moved his hand up to cup her breast and tease at her nipple.

Both of her hand moved over his sides before tucking under his t-shirt and grazing her nails up his smooth and muscular back. To get lost in that moment, in the sensations they shared would have been divine. It always was with him though. It wasn't just sex that let her forget all of her concerns. Her body demanded that this happen now. He broke contact first, remembering that this was not what they should be doing right then.

"You have a normal tongue."

"Thanks, I've always led with that. Long legs, normal tongue."

Dean grinned, pulling her close and guiding her to straddle his lap. She dropped the brush to the floor as she took his face between her hands and kissed him hard. His hands rested on her hips, pausing a moment before easing the rolled band of the sweatpants down a little. His dominate hand eased inside the pants to cup her ass.

This time, Mae laughed into his mouth and Dean pulled back, questioning. "I bet this is the first time you tried to get in your brother's pants." she said.

Dean scoffed, then sighed. "You know, you-you're very distracting sometimes. You have got to be the weirdest chick I've ever slept with."

"I really doubt that. Sure, I'm weird. But the weirdest?"

He pressed his fingers against her mouth. "Can we just have a rule about not mentioning people we're related to when we're messing around?"

"Spoilsport." She said against his digits.

"How is that fun for you?"

"Teasing you is beyond fun for me."

"Teasing, huh? I'll show you teasing."