Time moves in slow motion as she practically tumbles down the basement steps. There is someone in her room. There is SOMETHING in her room! She leaps through a doorway at the base of the steps locking the entry behind her. Scrambling down the six foot corridor, she reaches the "Fox Hole", a larger bunker-style space that serves as the emergency shelter. Mai pushes the heavy iron door closed and locks herself in. She lacks enough air in her lungs and gasps for it violently.
What the hell? WHAT THE HELL!? Herheartbeat is flying.
Her chest feels tight like it's about to burst. She tries to breathe soothingly and calm her adrenalin. She does not succeed. Still panic-ridden, she leans against the door, breathing rapidly. Upon entering the room, Mai had smacked the switch. Yellowing florescent lights now wearily turn on. It's been months since she was last down here.
The place smells like mothballs and gunpowder, and it's warm. A warmth that's comparable to wearing a sweater on a tropical beach. Bookshelves and storage racks line the four walls, covered in dusty books, unopened cans of food, and packets filled with sterile medical supplies. There are racks that hold ammunition and weapons, others entirely devoted to hefty bags of rock salt.
INHALE, exhale…. INHALE, exhale… Adrenaline still pushes through her.
You're okay. You're in the Fox Hole. It's okay, breathe. They can't get to you here.
"They" as in the thing in her room and the figure she had seen out of the corner of her eye during her screaming flight through the living room. It was probably just the bookshelf or something right? It couldn't be another guy in the house. In the back of her mind she feels like the figure was human shaped. That's probably just the adrenaline talking; scaring her into seeing things. Terror will do that to a person and she was in pure terror running down here.
Ten minutes feel like a lifetime. Mai's thoughts become more rational, focusing on what to do next.
"Call Uncle Sammy" she says out loud. There is a landline hanging on the wall to the left of the door. She dials his number with shaky fingers. The damn adrenalin. The phone rings through to voicemail.
"Hi, you've reached the mailbox of Sam, leave your name and number and I'll get back to you when I can. BEEEEEEEP."
"Sam" she whisper-shouts, "something is in the house; I'm in the Fox Hole. It's in my room. Get your ass home!" She hangs up the phone and picks in up again, listening for a dial tone to make sure it had disconnected from the last call. Her thumb pounds out Dean's cell phone number. It rings continuously without a voicemail. She tries his second cell. It never rings.
"'Beep, boop, beep' I'm sorry, the number you are calling has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again. 'Beep, boop, beep' I'm sor-" Mai slams the plastic phone back onto its base.
"Damn hunters!" She yells, too frustrated to care if the whatevers upstairs can hear her. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, "why can't you just get here, I swear I'll let you in the house…" She leans her head against the intercom system.
"Um, hello?" a solicitous voice emerges from the intercom box. The foreign sound jolts her upright. If it's speaking through the intercom, then whatever is out there now stands right outside the outer door. Although tempted to turn the machine off, she pushes in the cream "talk" button. She waits a minute before speaking.
"…Get out of my house." Mai tries to sound intimidating and serious, but her voice is weak and her adrenaline is pumping even harder now. She releases the button.
"… I apologize for scaring you," The voice sounds like a man, a younger man, probably close to Mai in age, "I'm not anything evil my na-" Mai interrupts the voice.
"How did you get in here?" She demands.
"I… uh, came in through your window upstairs, it was unlocked…" His voice is reverent and sheepish, getting quieter towards the end of his sentence, "Bobby Singer directed me here; said you'd be able to help?" For a few moments there is silence as Mai processes the information.
"How do I know you're not a shifter or a vampire or a God knows what?"
"…You don't. But my name's Jett Rhone, I'm a hunter I swear."
Mai knows that name. Where does she know that name from? From Bobby's! Two summers ago, she was staying out there over break, a Rhone stopped by, older man, a hunter, with his grandson. This must be his grandson? If Bobby had sent the boy, he would have called her. It crosses her mind that she hadn't bothered to check for messages when she arrived home this evening.
"Miss?" Jett interrupts her thoughts, "I promise I'm not going to hurt you…"
Mai becomes acutely aware of how literally naked she is.
"…Uh, give me a minute here."
She goes over to one of the storage racks and hunts for suitable clothing. There are very few garments down here that actually fit her. She is able to snag a pair of old jeans that seem to work well enough although a bit tight, one of Sam's tee shirts, and a plaid flannel that dwarfs her. She is unsuccessful in finding proper underwear and settles for the smallest pair of boxer-briefs she can find. She does her best to make the outfit presentable, tucking the excess amount of tee shirt into her jeans and rolling up the sleeves on the flannel. She reproaches the intercom.
"I'm going to come out now, but don't try anything you understand, I'll take your ass down." Mai is mostly bluffing, although she does slide a silver knife in her pants against the small of her back. She figures it would be easily in reach, but mostly thinks that it looks cool stashed there.
"You broke my nose for saying 'hi'" He replies through the machine dryly. Mai doesn't respond, unsure of how.
Femoral artery, hit the femoral artery in the leg. He'll bleed out quickly. …I think. She envisions slicing the young man's upper thigh if he were to try anything. She prays he doesn't. She has no clue what she is doing when it comes to combat. Unbolting the iron door and releasing the lever, she moves into the corridor.
The few steps that she takes towards the outer door are nerve-wracking. It's a leap of faith trusting that this man, boy, thing, actually is who/what it says. Although in the back of her mind, she feels almost secure that he's telling the truth, but maybe that's just a blindly hopeful wish. Unlocking the outer door gingerly, she finds that her small confidence is correct. He is in fact the boy she had met a few years back. They survey each other for a few moments, Mai still standing in the corridor and Jett looking leery at her while still holding his broken nose.
He is different now than when she had come to meet him. He's older of course, and hansom; ageing well over the past two years. Mai feels guilty about his nose. It's a nice nose, sharp and defined. Nose blood is smeared and dripped down his intense jaw line and over his neck. His skin is fair although darker than hers and his cheekbones are distinct. Even with such strong angular features, his face is still soft and almost child-like. But it's the child-like appearance of a boy who's been abused and beaten; youthful but drained, and crying out for help. The blood she'd caused to flow and the evident scars all over his body add to this effect.
What really cries out to her the most are his eyes. Under a set of dark, fervent brows, lay a pair of limpid blue eyes. Mesmerizing eyes; with a hint of green that extends from his pupils and dances with the incandescent blue. They are nothing like she's seen before. But with their brilliance comes the hurt, worn, destitute mark of a hunter. She can tell instantly that he is human and he is in the line of work that she knows all too well. The line of work that robs many good people of their happiness, their families, and often their lives.
"I'm sorry," She says after a while, "for your nose. I wasn't expecting guests."
"I'm sorry that I scared you, I didn't think anyone was home."
"…We can go upstairs; I can fix that up for you." Mai motions to the steps. Jett on nods his head in response and they make their way up to the kitchen.