She hikes up the driveway Wednesday afternoon. She's left Jett alone while at school these past few days. It's a stupid move on her part. She knows better than to trust this practical stranger. Dean wouldn't, Sam might. Jett is capable of more than Mai gives him credit for because of his age and injuries. She mulls this over in her brain.
I'm being naïve and impractical. But he hasn't attempted anything yet. It's only a matter of time. Or he'll heal up and be on his way…
She is inevitably waiting for the floor to fall out in this situation. She's waiting for Jett to jump her. Waiting for him steal something and bolt in the middle of the night. Waiting for him to burn the house down, or somehow bring a demon in, or call a pack of vamps to come kill her, or torture her and use her as bait for the Winchester brothers. The last option makes her blood run cold and small part of her brain wonders if Dean would even care in a situation like that. It's such a faint thought; it dissipates as soon as it sprouts.
Mai's feet shift through the snow causing little troughs to form from her path. In spite of all the things that she knows can and is expecting to go wrong, she still allows him to stay. She not only allows him to stay, but allows him to stay in her home alone each day as she's at school. It's almost like trusting him.
I don't trust him. If I trusted him I wouldn't be expecting the worst. I have no trust in that boy.
She tries to find reasons for her asking him to stay in the first place. If a pro/con list were to be made, the cons would clearly outweigh the pros. But she doesn't have it in her to kick him to the curb in the middle of winter. Maybe her naïve faith comes from the way she wakes up and his stolen car is still parked in the drive, covered in fresh snow. From the way she checks him in the middle of the night to find him curled up in the guest room bed, deep in sleep. From the way she double and triple checks the supply racks and nothing's missing. From the way he seems so wounded in his sling. From the way he sits quietly staring at the fire, lost in thought; his drowsy, abysmal, shutting out the world thoughts. From his look, his difference, his essence of non-hunter, his aura of civilian who's seen too much.
Mai kicks snow off her boots as she climbs each step. Before she can reach for the handle on the front door Jett opens it as if on cue. He surprises her a little but she tries not to show it.
"I saw you coming up the drive from the window." He says straightly.
"Oh." Mai walks into her house removing her boots and coat, placing them in the closet.
She passes him and goes into the kitchen. The white walls seem brighter than normal in this odd February afternoon sun. For the first time Mai realizes how monotone the color scheme really is. The furniture is white, the walls are white, the cabinets are white, the sink and stove and refrigerator are white. The only change in color is the flooring and the blue tile countertops. The whole room feels sterile. Yet it's messy. Dishes are beginning to pile in the sink, boxes of opened cereal sit on the countertop, random junk has accumulated on the table.
Mai moves some of the junk out of the way as to sit down and pull some books out of her backpack. She doesn't have much homework this afternoon. The teachers barely send the kids home with anything. When they do Mai can accomplish it in study hall most of the time. She napped through class today though, so a few worksheets need to be done as well as some reading for history. They are studying ancient Greek mythology; nothing Mai hasn't researched a hundred times over, nothing she doesn't have plenty of books on. The thought of her school taking a semester to learn about Greek Lore, makes her chuckle.
Head bent, out of her peripheral vision Mai spies Jett take a seat in the chair adjacent to her. His arm is still in the makeshift sling. He still looks broken. Mai tries to rein in her focus and read. Jett rests his forearms on the table, leaning in to read over her shoulder. His cigar and Amber smell floats under her nose. She shifts to the right, attempting to distance herself without looking up from her book. Her eyes reread the last sentence, but her peripheral doesn't stray from Jett.
Mai has reread the last sentence close to four times now failing to grasp the context of the words. Letter after letter, word after word, sentence after sentence, to no avail. She closes the book and leans back. Jett gazes at her but doesn't move. The stitches on his face seem to be healing well, and the bruises are already starting to turn greenish yellow. His face is very smooth but Mai knows he hasn't shaved.
Just how old is he? Maybe he just can't grow a beard.
"How old are you?" She asks.
Mai kicks her feet under her chair, resting them on its rung. Jett doesn't even look phased by her abrupt question. He lifts his feet and lays them on the seat of another chair under the table.
"Nineteen" he leans back, pulling his crossed arms to rest against his abdomen, "How old are you?"
"I'll be Seventeen in May." She tries to sound mature.
"So Mai is born in May?" He gives a little halfcocked laugh, "Creative."
"I wasn't named after my birth month." Her tone edges on defensive, "It's the Chinese spelling or whatever. M-A-I."
"Total coincidence then?" his tone edges on sarcastic.
"What kind of name is 'Jett' anyway?" Mai turns. Jet's smile falls from his lips.
"A family nickname."
"Short for?"
"My full name."
Mai internally rolls her eyes, but doesn't press the question.
"How do your stiches feel? They look less red today." She asks.
"Better I guess."
She doesn't have to lean over much to touch his face and examine her handwork. The girl brushes her finger underneath the row of blood coated thread. Her focus is on the stiches, his focus is on her.
"We should take those out soon." She adds softly.
"Okay."
Mai looks up at Jett and holds his gaze without as much as a flinch or a blink. She can't quite read him. What is that expression? What is that look in his eyes? Why does it make her nervous?
"Are you hungry?" she pulls back keeping his gaze.
"I could eat."
"You like tacos? We're kinda low on everything, but we've got meat and tortillas." Hopping up, she walks over to the fridge.
"It's like 3:30 in the afternoon."
Mai shrugs, "We'll eat early."
She removes some frozen ground beef from the freezer and sets it in the microwave.
"Hold on… I'm almost done." Mai picks out the last of the stitches from Jett's face.
He winces a little. Pulling thread through you face isn't the most comfortable experience in the world, but Mai has done this countless time for her uncles and is gentle. She cleans up the area and adds a bandage.
"Good as new." She packs up the medical kit and leans back on the couch.
He's staring at her… again. It seems like every time Mai turns around Jett is watching her. It's unsettling but his gaze is soft. A chill rolls down her back at the thought.
"Almost good as new." He rolls his shoulder.
"So I was doing some more research about what happened the other night an-"
"Stop." He interrupts her.
"What?"
"Let me guess, you still didn't find anything, but there are a bunch of bunny trail leads that will most likely be dead ends?" Mai doesn't respond, feeling insulted. Jett continues, "For the record, I don't care what happened, or what fixed me."
"This isn't suspicious and a problem for you?" She can't believe him.
"No, it's a blessing. I was bleeding out of hellhound wounds and now it's all patched up inside and out. I'm okay not questioning it."
"A blessing?" She snorts in disbelief, "It's something supernatural, no doubt in my mind. This is dangerous." Mai stiffens in her frustration. Jett sits entirely too cool and collected for her liking.
"Call it an act of God." His words are confident and reassuring.
Her feelings towards his outlook are conflicted.
"This house is everything proof. Nothing gets in." She mumbles, unsure why.
"You sure about that?" Jett inches closer to her, sending a smug little smile, "I got in."
"We haven't sorted out idiot proofing yet." She turns her head and focuses on the fire again, pulling her legs under her.
"Hostile. What's with the hostility Miss Mai?" He seems honestly hurt. Mai glares at him.
"You're a case, a blatant case for hunters everywhere, and you yourself being a hunter don't even care. You won't even try to figure out what happened."
"You're still stuck on this?" Jett rolls his head back and stares at the ceiling.
"It's your job, and you're ignoring it. Save people, hunt things, your job." She crosses her arms subconsciously closing herself off, shutting in her opinion.
"That's not my job!" He yells.
"Bull!" She returns, game for a fight.
Jett grunts and leans forward over his knees.
"My job is to hunt down the demons that shredded me. That is my one and only job after that I am out." His tone is serious and pissy, but calm. He seems to have said his piece.
But Mai isn't done, she's ready to scream till she's hoarse and prove her point, make him care. She's hotheaded and stubborn and it's been over a year since she's had someone to scream at. Every thought bubbles back up in her head about that night, that last pissing contest she got into. Pent up rage now had a body to be thrown at. It now had an outlet, even if the outlet was another fight.
"No one gets out!" She yells back at him.
"I was out!"
"I can see that." Her sarcasm lays thick.
"What is your problem with me all of a sudden?!"
"You're just accepting of what happened. You don't even care that something could be wrong with you!" her words are grunted through grit teeth.
"So you're upset that I'm not upset?" His brow furrows, totally lost.
Mai jumps off the couch to yell at him, gaining higher ground to help prove her point.
"You are a stranger and in my house and broken and it's an unnerving fact that you are magic skinned or whatever and you don't even care!"
Jett's face tints with concern and realization. As his brows relax he looks at her with soft pitying eyes.
"So you're scared?" he says quietly.
A pit arrives in Mai stomach. Her fists curl into tight balls, blood rushes to her head and for a second she feels dizzy.
"I'm not scared!" She shouts eyes closed, voice strained, trying to stand her ground but feeling that he's not understanding. Then again, maybe he reads her better than she reads herself.
"Mai, I'm not going to hurt you…" His voice is reverent again, like the first time she heard it.
"I'm not afraid of you!"
That's a lie.
"What is the problem then?" Jett stands to face her.
She instantly feels small in his presence. He gains at least three or four inches on her, she has to tilt her head back to look him in the eye since they are so close. The small amount of power she felt in this debate has fleeted. In its place is frustration that her outlet is quickly disappearing and the rage inside her hasn't dissipated. She crosses her arms, this time consciously trying to close him out. This conversation isn't supposed to be about Mai and the problems she avoids, this is about Jett and his lack of responsibility. He's a hunter and she feels he should act like one; that he should jump on that which is suspicious.
"Do your job instead of leaving me to clean up your mess. I don't want to be collateral damage here." Her glare is cold.
Jett takes a small step towards her.
"So you're looking out for number one." He holds her glare with an unreadable expression. Instinct tells Mai to throw a punch and run away, but she's been denying her instinct since the beginning with this boy. "But as cold as you come off I can still see that you're scared."
Her blood boils. She can't believe the audacity that he has. This is not about her! Her lips grow tight with that anger, her breathing labors slightly; her heartbeat pounds out heavily rather than fast. In a general reaction rather than choice, her outstretched hand whips him across the face.
"I'm not scared, you son of'a bitch."
For a second, Jett looks almost shocked. She figures he probably wasn't expecting that, a smug touch of smile graces her face through the hatred. Jett turns his face back towards hers. Even in the dim firelight, Mai could see the red imprint of her palm starting to form along his cheek. Jett shakes his head roughly and rolls his neck with a crack. Her smug touch drops and she stiffens herself and he draws closer to her. With maybe a few inches between them, the air feels hot, and the pit in Mai's stomach grows larger.
She wonders if she shouldn't have done that. He is far bigger than her and slightly older, he's a trained killer like all hunters, he's practically a certifiable maniac for the things he's seen and done. And Mai? Mai is all alone, with this stranger. A stranger who she poked like a sleeping bear, a stranger that has some healing mojo that he may or may not be in control of, a stranger that she actually is afraid of. He's a stranger that now holds Mai in a compromising position as he leans in closer.
Yet, through all her fear and instinct to bolt, she holds her ground. She stubbornly embraces her space and waits for him. He holds his head next to her ear and the Amber is practically overwhelming to her senses.
"Then prove it" he whispers.
Every muscle in her body tenses, ready to ponce, ready to fight, ready to elbow him in the shoulder and run for the knifes. She knows nothing about fighting but she can't stand the way he exists in her life. She will fight his tooth and nail, maybe no smoothly or strongly like her uncles can fight but she will give it her all until he is gone for good. So in the second after his words fall close to her ear, she gives him a shove to his shoulder.
Jett gasps at the shot of pain and Mai turns to run, but he is one step ahead of her in this mess. He latches onto her with his good arm holding her back flat against his body and restraining her arms. She fights to move her torso but for as slim as he is, he's strong. Her feet kick in the air trying to shake herself free or unbalance him. He just holds her tighter, pulling her on top of him to the couch. Her legs dance in the air the whole way, but he wraps his around them. When she tries biting, he gives her a shake, when she tries to wiggle, he grips on tighter.
"What the Hell Winchester!?" He shouts at her.
"Damn it Rhone! Let go of me!" She thrashes, he grips.
"No! What the hell is wrong with you? I don't want to fight!"
"Then let me go!"
"I have no faith that you are not going to try and knife me or something. Damn it, I told you I'm not going to hurt you."
"I'm not afraid of you!"
"Yeah you keep saying that."
"Let me go!" Her voice screeches. She kicks some more and bites at his fingers to no avail.
"Mai! …MAI!" his shouting deafens her for a second. She shakes and starts to panic.
"Just let me go!" She cries. Real tears form in her eyes.
"Mai calm down." His tone is much softer, soothing almost.
"Just let me go…"
The tears fall, the levee breaks, the shuttering and waterworks begin, and Mai is lost. She stops thrashing and Jett release his grip on the girl. Tears drip down the sides of her face as her sharp breathing stabs at her lungs. She hates crying, she always has hated to cry. She doesn't even notice that she can free herself. She doesn't think about the fact that she's wrapped loosely in Jett's limbs. She doesn't think about how she rises and falls with his breathing. She doesn't notice that his face is in her hair or that his thumb is making small circles in against her left arm.
Mai is too busy crying. Crying for reasons she can't think of. Crying for everything probably, because everything hurt. She cried for a long time on top of the boy. She just looks up at the ceiling and lets out a sob, forgetting that he's right beneath her. After a while she calms down.
"Okay…" She sighs, "I promise not to knife you."
A/N: So I have now seen every episode of Supernatural and man this has been a roller coaster of crazy. I had only finished season 8 the day before the season 9 finale premiered. So of course, had to binge watch in a week and now my everything in broken. That was something wasn't it? It was everything I wanted out of this season to be honest. I really enjoyed seeing Jensen play this version of Dean. On the other hand, the ending made me want to puke out a lung. But all in all, I think season 9 is my new favorite.
*POSSIBLE TRIGGER FOR SEASON 9 FINALE*
The reason I bring it up being, The boys are far from the people they were in season 1 or 5 even. It almost feels wrong to write them like this. Human, normal (relatively speaking). Granted we don't see them as much in this particular fic, but does anyone else feeling torn now when writing about them in a past season? Nothing else seems to matter after the 9 finale. On the other hand, I want to protect them and write them back in softer seasons. I want to curl them up and toss them back into this safe non-cannon, Post season 5 AU. Because I can protect them here.