Mai is sitting on the Speedy Hut counter wrapped in Walter's sweater. Everything feels wonderful. Being here on the counter, being embraced by her friend's warm sweater, the glowing lighting that the florescent bulbs are producing overhead.

"I'm glad you're here..." He says to her.

"Me too." She gives Walt a smile.

She purses her lips ever so slightly running a hand over the knit. Walter takes a step forward and stand inches from her knees. As Mai pulls down on the borrowed sweater she looks up at his copper hair. It's just there, begging to be played with, needing her attention. She gingerly reaches out to touch it, looking in his eyes for a sign to stop. His expression is inviting, and her fingers lace their way through his waves. She tousles it, gracing her fingertips across the ends. Slowly she slips her whole hand through, rubbing stands between her greedy fingers. After a few seconds, the other hand makes its way to the mane as well.

Mai's heartbeat runs sharp but steady. Her fingers dance through the boy's hair causing Walt leans in against the counter, a hand on either side of Mai. He looks over her shoulder. No one else is to be seen in the store. The coolers hum. In the back room a TV can be heard faintly; The Price is Right. Walter smells like coconut tinged cologne. Mai's eyes close; her breathing shallow. An inch, a mere inch away from his face is hers. She takes a second to saver the feeling. Then clasping her hands on the back of his head, she moves him forward in an attempt to close the space.

The bell on the door rings and a man walks into the store. Mai swears under her breath, backing away from Walt's lips, but still holding his head. The stranger in the doorway walks into a nearby aisle and picks up a can of something. He glowers at the teenagers on the counter; his posture stiff, his face emotionless. Mai glances over at him; tall, dark hair, dress clothes, outerwear, middle aged. Mai can't help but squirm under his uncomfortable gaze.

A hand clasps onto Mai's shoulder twisting her around. Her bare toes go cold against what feels like forest floor. It's dirt and pine needles and under her left heel is unmistakable squishy softness of moss. Her eyes strain to see anything in the dense blackness that surrounds her. She wants to yell out for help, to see who's there, but words won't form on her lips. Her mouth feels glued shut.

"Well, Mai!" a voice shouts out from the darkness.

"Dean?"

The uncle steps forward into her viewpoint.

"Why are you here Mai?" His green stare is cold.

"You brought me here."

Dean moves forward to her. She feels his breath on her face as he speaks.

"Sam brought you here."

Mai does not move, maybe she can't; she does not attempt to move. Dean continues, circling her.

"What, honestly, what makes you think I want you here? That I want to look after you, that I want to have another person to worry about?" He pulls his head down over her shoulder, stubble grazes her ear. He whispers. "We're not even family really."

Dean walks around to face her and takes a few steps back.

"See, I've wasted nearly ten years on you. Eight years of people dying. Eight years of things running loose, that I couldn't kill. Eight years of nightmares, and fighting with Sam about you. Eight years of guilt, and denying myself the only thing I can do right in this world. All for or you. I stayed home for you." His words shoot through her, tearing at her insides.

"But you left…" her voice hushed.

"You gave me no reason to stay."

"Dean..." She reaches for him, but he distances himself.

"Don't expect me home anytime soon." His bloodshot eyes go black.

The darkness shifts to flames, the numb coldness shifts to searing heat. Mai tries to run from the fire but there's nowhere to go, no one is sight, no way of escaping this. Dean roars profanities at her from somewhere within the blaze. The insults fill her brain, engulfing her own thoughts. The flames lick at her feet. Walt's sweater is peppered with singed holes; it's previously comfortable warmth now scorches her. She fights with it, trying desperately to pull it over her head.

"Help! Dean Help!" the heat cuts at her breath, "Someone!"

Oxygen is fading; smoke and fire choke the space around her. Mai manages to remove the sweater, but flames lap at her bare arms. Fire climbs up her body, winding into her hair, searing her skin. The smoldering flesh starts to blister and bubble with pain so excruciating, she can't catch her breath enough to scream. Her tears turn to steam in the heat. She collapses on the ground, frantically attempting to swat away the fire. She hits a scorched section of skin on her arm. The last bit of oxygen escapes her lungs as she screams out in anguish.

Somewhere in the distance she can hear Dean's voice thundering. She's can't breathe, flames continue to burn through her clothes, through her skin, through her nerves, into her bones. Every time she thinks she'll black out, another wave of pain crashes over her. Vivid, tangible, profound pain, that's eating and clawing and stabbing at her body. Somehow she sees past the agony long enough to notice Deans coming for her.

He kicks her scalded body over limply. Another wave crashes where his boot touches her side. She lies on her back submerged in this new anguish, staring up at his black eyes. She swears she's going to die, she swears to herself that she's not going to make it, that she can almost feel the numb release that comes with death. There's hardly any skin left to burn. She can't gasp for air, she can't speak, she can't move, she can only lie on her back and wait for Dean to torture her. Her eyes plead for relief, for forgiveness.

Dean gets down on his knees pulling her up by her tee shirt. Every muscle in his body tense, his eyes cold, black with furry. She gives her last energy to bracing herself for the blow. He lifts his arm and in the moment it takes for his fist to reach her face, it's over. He's vanished. Mai falls on to her back again feeling numb. Her breathing is exceedingly shallow; her eyes dull at the final lull in pain. She can't hold onto this space much longer. She closes her eyelids, opens them to a set of blue eyes.

"Jett?" her tone is disoriented.

"No" a gruff voice answers. The eyes stare down at her with the same skin crawling awkward gaze as the guy from Speedy Hut. This is the guy from Speedy Hut she realizes.

"Who are you?"

"It's time for you to wake up Mai." Is his only reply. Without another word he lifts a finger to her forehead.

She jolts upright in her bed, tears streaming down her face.

She wakes up in a puddle of drool. Mai rubs her face drowsily and burrows into her pillow. After a few moments she begins to realize that it's not her pillow. Disoriented, she lifts her head looking around the room. Through the dim beginnings of a sunrise that peaks through the sheers she can make out a few things. The cream walls, a record player and stack of albums, plaid bedspread, a pile of clean clothes falling out of the closet, and on the desk a picture of Mary Winchester. She drops her head back on the pillow. The memory of last night comes back to her.

Waking up from her nightmares around one in the morning, crying herself dry. Dying inside for the comfort of her uncles. Making her way downstairs in the moonlight and sneaking into Dean's room. Curling up in his unmade bed and falling asleep. Waking up every hour with a new set of tears and new surge of longing for her family. Then falling back asleep after putting on one of Dean's blues records.

The fear from last night seems to have passed. Mai breathes in the scent from Dean's comforter. She stretches out over his bed, wrapping the sheets around her legs, throwing her head under another pillow. The solicitous comfort of this bed alleviates her distress. It brings her back to reality. She's exhausted, and could fall back asleep for another twelve hours. Maybe she will.

She lies in his bed with the sunrise slowly filtering through the window. Just like every sunrise does, it slowly emerges, dusting away the night. Shadows start to fade and grey turns to yellow, then all at once, the world is illuminated. Mai rolls onto her back, heavy-eyed and pensive. Dreams like those of last night have been occurring more frequently.

What the hell was that part with Walt? That was creepy… Mai groans in embarrassment. She'll attempt to forget that permanently.

After a while the she demes it ridiculous to be curled up in Dean's room any longer. She slips out of from under the warmth of his blankets, wondering if she should make the bed or leave it like she found it. She figures it's best to leave as little evidence as possible that she was here. She slips the record off the player and back into its case. A sigh escapes her as she takes a last look before exiting. The door closes with a soft "click". The room is again still, waiting for its owner to return and give it life again.

Currently the fridge contains leftover taco meat, a hunk of moldy cheese, sour cream, mashed potatoes from who knows when, a pickle jar with one pickle in it, and an array of assorted condiments. The cupboards houses, boxes of cereal that are just crumbs, canned everything, a bottle of syrup, and possibly one cup of flour if that. They are out of bread, eggs, milk, and fresh anything. Mai taps her toe on the floor and settles on canned fruit cocktail. She situates herself on the counter and rips off the pull tab. Fishing a butter knife from the dish rack, she opts to eat her breakfast army style.

She spears a skinless green grape in the can. The images of her dreams still run fresh in her mind; the flames, the blue-eyed man, possessed Dean looming over her. She tries to find focus on something else, to keep these memories at bay. Her eyes fall on the bottle of Jack, left on the table. She bites through a peach chunk. Another flash of Dean's black eyes.

Too early in the morning to drink.

A bite of mealy pear. The blue-eyed man.

Mai Winchester, you have never consumed alcohol in your life. You are not about to start now.

A rubbery maraschino cherry. The flames blazing in every direction.

No. Have some self-control.

A woody piece of pineapple. Her hands fluffing out Walt's hair.

She sets down her can of breakfast and drops off the counter.

The first few shots burn her throat like nothing she's ever experienced. She figures this has to be a new record, doing shots at 6:30 in the morning. After three she starts to feel the alcohol working, after five she starts to regret her choice, after seven she's crying again. Crying about the dreams that aren't fading from her memory, about the shit-storm that is her relationship with Dean, about her lack of food and money and a car, crying that Sam isn't here to hold her and make it all better for a few seconds. So she pours herself another shot and tries desperately to understand how this bottle of golden alcohol ever helped numb either of her uncles' pain. All it seems to be doing for her is burn her throat and bring out her tears.

"Throwing a party?"

Mai whips her head around to see Jett standing in the doorway, bedhead and all. She wiped her tears away, mortified that he's finding her like this. Pulling it together for a guest is not what she needs; to tell him everything is fine and then try to figure out what to make him for breakfast, brew him some coffee, make small talk, put on a hostess face, and hold it all in. She's far from done breaking down. She's just scraped the surface of her breakdown. She kicks herself for asking him to come back but at the same time, she knows she'd rather have him here.

"It's no, I'm… I was seeing if it worked..." She shudders in between the tears she tries to hold it in.

"To see if it could intoxicate you?" He slips into the chair beside her.

"No, to see if it could…" a small sob sneaks through her emotional wall, "to see if it can numb everything." She hides her face in her knees as they rest against her chest.

This is not how she wants him to see her. Weak, buzzed, emotional, frail and easily overtaken. She wants so badly for him to disappear so she can finish processing everything alone, but feels conflicted and wants him to stay. She wishes her walls would stay up better at least; he doesn't need to see her like this. Mai just covers her face in her knees like an ostrich burring its head in the sand. She feels pathetic and self-conscious. She can't bring herself to look up at him. The tears are being held at bay currently, but she knows that they will fall again if she faces the boy. Her breathing quivers.

Jett waits for her to say something else, to look at him at least. After a few moments of nothing, he takes the shot glass in his hand and pours himself a drink. He lifts it up to toast.

"I'll drink to that." His lips wrap around the glass and with a quick flick the substance is gone. He grimaces as it burns going down. Clearing his throat, his voice is gruff.

"How many have you done?"

"Somewhere close to eight." Mai doesn't lift her head to speak to him.

"Do you drink often?"

"First time."

"To answer your question, it doesn't. Numb everything, I mean." Jett crosses his arms and rests them on the table close to Mai's legs. Placing his head on his arms, he continues.

"It sorta… blurs everything? For a little bit at least. But usually, one drinks to pass out and block everything for a while. At least that's my method."

Mai peers up at him. She swears the levy will break and the tears will flood again. But looking at the young man a foot or so from her, she feels the waterworks recoiling. A reassuring half smirk is draped over his lips. She lets out a deep sigh. Jett decides to add more.

"As the great Hemmingway put it, 'I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake'."

Mai gives a derisive laugh.

"My life has the tendency to fall apart while I'm asleep too..."

Jett's smirk fades as he processes.

"Well, let's put this away." He says grasping the bottle and shot glass.

Getting up, he places them in the sink. He spoons the remaining fruit cocktail left in the can into a bowl he pulls from the disk rack. After pouring a glass of water, he sets down the breakfast in front of the girl. She looks at him, puzzled.

"You've taken care of me enough times since we met." He says taking his seat again, "I can at least repay the favor once."

The fruit bobs up and down in its syrup. Mai takes sip on the water which goes down with refreshing smoothness. She rubs her eyes, pushes her hair out of her face, readjusts herself in the chair, and gives a small thankful nod. The fruit it as sub-par a breakfast as before, but something about eating it in a bowl with a spoon, makes it taste better. Jett watches her every bite, the smirk reappearing. He leans back in his seat and crosses his arms.

"Thanks." She mummers between spoonfuls .

They sit in a comfortable silence as Mai takes her time eating. She still won't look up at Jett. He isn't speaking or moving really and if she keeps her head down she can imagine he's not watching her. Memories of her dream slips into her head again causing her to cringe.

Dean… Uncle Dean with… black eyes. Dean a… Demon.

"So… nightmares?"

Mai freezes.

"I heard you last night," he plays with his bracelet, "running downstairs I mean."

A blush begins to bloom over her cheeks.

"We all have seen some crap; those images… stick with us."

Mai only fidgets in her seat. It's difficult to ignore his presence when he's talking about the problem.

"They get to the best of us," he reassures, "They aren't real though, no matter how vivid."

He rests his hand on her arm and Mai raises her head. He is starting at her but looking at something distant. Mai's wonders for a moment what his memories are of. Being a hunter he's show a plethora of disturbing images daily. Her curiosity is suppressed by a flash of blinding blue eyes and the smell of burning flesh. Chills roll down her body and she cringes at the thought.

A/N: Wow... long time, no write.

I finally have a new laptop! (woot woot) but I'm taking college courses now and with the added work it's going to be difficult to write. Also my muse has still been... dry. most of this chapter I wrote months ago but it didn't fit the story at that point.

But I must say, reviews feed my muse, when I see that people are waiting for this, and reading it my brain gets ideas again! So please... I'm begging for feedback. What's something you'd like to see Mai and Jett do? I am open to some requests for this story! PM me or leave a review.

I love you all for reading. I'm sorry I went MIA for a few months there, my life got busy and then took an... interesting turn... So figuring this out is all new!

XOXO -Kelly-