With Jett around, the house was getting stuffy. Seeing the same rooms 24/7 was becoming even more taxing than usual. This afternoon she feels like the walls are closing in on her. She feels like the air is too warm, the house too musty-smelling, and that Jett's presence is confusingly agitating. She feels antsy and can't take it.

"I'm going to walk down to the store." She slips on a pair of sneakers.

"Okay, I'll drive you" he offers, grabbing his Converse.

"No." she says firmly, "It's okay… you, stay here. I'll be back before you know it." Mai tries to slip out the front door, but he grabs her arm.

"What am I supposed to do here alone?"

"Read a book, we have hundreds of them." She jogs down the steps before he could offer again.

So many offers, so much being helpful, too much… everything.

Feelings. Jett never pushed her to talk about hers – he never talked about his – but he gave her looks, concerned looks. When she woke up next to him in a cold sweat, when she sighed at the pictures in her living room, when she got frustrated at her car and threw things in the barn, he saw her and he wondered. Sometimes he would tap her arm when she got upset as an unspoken 'What's got you so distraught'. She hated it. She didn't have him over so that he could look at her the same way Sam looks at her when she won't talk to Dean. She didn't need another person trying to fix this messy situation.

One stupid fight and a year-long grudge and no one will let you move on with your life.

Ever since he told her to move on, he seemed more something; caring and attentive. Always offering to drive her around, "take her mind off things", giving out looks and touches, and silently saying he doesn't want to leave her alone, that he cares about her. Mai felt smothered.

She walks on the side of the road; in the place where asphalt meets gravel and gravel meets grass. The sun shines through a lush canopy of leaves. Everything is full and lively; looking like plants should at the peak of summer. Heat ripples off the highway in the distance. She kicks stones up as she walks, but the crunching sound agitates her so she moves over and walks on the grass. Quiet footsteps are much more appealing. Her brain is still muggy; thick and full of thoughts about Jett.

I'm upset that he cares… she chastises herself. He's not here to do that, he's here to lessen the boredom. Even staying that in her head feels wrong. That's not the only reason she keeps him around, but she doesn't want to think about any other reasons.

A wall of ice cold air gives Mai goosebumps. Walt is on duty at the counter; headphones on, nose in his phone. He doesn't notice her walk in. She ducks into the chip aisle, feeling indifferent about talking to him. She should though; their last conversation was a text message last week. Time with Jett preoccupies her. She doesn't mean to ignore him, but Jett is her guest, it's not as if she can invite Walter over and the three of them can have a dinner party. This summer is shaping up quite differently than last. She had spent every day she could with Walter. Dean had just left and she needed people to distract her.

It's not entirely different… Dean is back, you still kinda need people to distract you from that. She picks up a bag of BBQ chips and seriously contemplated whether or not that is the reason she has Jett over.

"Mai!" Walt yells from across the store, "Sorry, I didn't see you come in."

"It's cool." She says stuffing the bag back on the shelf.

Walter hops over the counter and walks up to his friend. His green work polo is wrinkled and there's a reddish stain at the bottom of it. He slicks his red hair back with his fingers, but gravity pulls it back down into his face.

"So how goes it?" he asks her.

Mai shrugs and walks behind him eyeing up other snack foods, "It goes."

"The slushy machine broke again today." He follows her as she browses, "Cherry slush everywhere. I'd avoid aisle eight if I were you, it's still drying."

She nods in response and folds her arms as she scans the selection of candy bars.

"I get off work in fifteen if you wanted to do something." He offers casually.

Mai perks her head up and looks at him. She's been blowing him off for months, she should stick around. The day is young, "Sounds good."

"Okay! Let me get back to the counter then and we can go." She can see the excitement in her best friend's eyes.

Best friend. The image of cliché girl best friends pops into her head. Pillow fights, spilling their dark person secrets, gabbing on about their love lives to each other. Thank god that's not us.

They sit on the curb outside Speedy hut and watch cars pass on the highway. Walt pours some Skittles in his hand, picking out the yellow and orange ones and offering the rest to Mai. There is never a fight over flavors with the two of them. Walt only likes yellow and orange, Mai only likes purple and red, they both throw the green ones out.

"You ever think about what life would have been like if we hadn't become friends?" she asks before shoving a handful of Skittles in her mouth.

Walter shakes a few more into his hand, "I'd still be a band nerd."

"You're not a nerd."

"Yes I am, but that's not the point. I'd still be into band. Probably would have joined model UN too."

"Are you saying I'm the reason you never joined model UN?" she feigns offense.

Walter laughs, "Well, yeah. If I hadn't had you I wouldn't have had anyone. So I'd turn to clubs to numb the loneliness, try to make more friends."

"Wow…"

"What?"

"That's sad." She smiles with a laugh.

He gives her a playful shove, "I would have gotten friends eventually, through the clubs, like how I have band friends now. But ninth grade…" he whistles, "That would have been rough."

Mai thinks back to the day they met; two outcasts sitting in the corner alone at lunch. Their first conversation was about clarinet reeds. Neither of them played the clarinet, Walt was just knowledgeable on the topic.

"What about you?"

"What about me what?" she asks popping a red Skittle in her mouth.

"What would your life been like without me?"

"I would have been…" sad, angry, embittered, lonely. Lonelier than I am now "…harder."

"Harder." He echoes, "How so?"

"I would have... hmm." She thinks for a moment, "I would have avoided everyone else because I'm starting senior year and no one in our school has ever tried to actually make conversation with me…" She stares out at the road watching the heatwaves wiggle.

"Wow…" he sighs.

She turns her head to him, "What?"

"If we are competing for saddest alternate universe, you just whipped my ass." He smiles at her and eats a few more candies.

She punches his arm with more aggression than playfulness, "Very funny, laugh at my pain. And give me that back," she laughs trying to grab the Skittles bag out of his hands, "I paid for those. Only compassionate people get some."

He hands her the bag, "Fine, that's fair." He smiles and chews at the same time. They sit quietly for a few moments. The lazy afternoon sun laps over them. Mai's shoulders feel hot and tingly like they're burning. She feels Walters hand fall on one and he pulls her in for a strange little side hug. "They are jerks." He tells her.

She leans into his embrace, "Fuck 'em."

"The phone rang while you were out." Jett tells her as she walks in the door, "It was Bobby Singer. I could hear him on the answering machine."

Shoot.

"Okay." She says, sliding off her shoes.

Jett scratches at the back of his head. With one hand in his pocket, one in his messy hair he peaks down at her with his head tipped forward. She looks at him. He's all grit and mystery and reserved swagger. He feels exceptionally tall to Mai today. She pictures him the way he was this morning: shirtless, in her bed, curled against her, drooling on a fresh pillowcase. She uses to think only people having sex got to see someone like that in the morning. Her case was a very rare exception though. She smiles flatly and walks past him into the living room and flops on the couch. He doesn't say anything, but follows her and takes a seat in a plush armchair.

She takes out her cellphone and dials Bobby's number. Her back is to Jett, but she can feel his presence too much to imagine he isn't there. She wishes he wasn't there. She wishes that he was anywhere but sitting with her.

Doesn't he have a hunt to go on? He's already been here a week…

"Hello?"

"Bobby, it's me."

"Hi Kid," He sounded tired. She looked at the clock above the fireplace.

It's only 6:30…

"You called me? I was out."

"Yeah, I was wondering if you guys had a journal; David Barns journal."

"Oh Geese Bobby, what does it look like?" She cringes at the thought of trying to find anything in that pit they call a study.

"How would I know?"

"I haven't read half of the books we have in there."

"You're library aint that big sweetheart. Look in with the information on witches."

Mai snorts a laugh, "You seriously think we have a system?"

"I made that system." He returns shortly.

"Well Sam and Dean haven't been following it."

"I don't care how those idjits organize their lore. I need you to look for the damn journal."

"Okay, okay, I get it. Let me check and call you back."

She stared at the ceiling of her room. Jett lay beside her, not quite sleeping based on his breathing. She felt like she wasn't actually in her room, everything about the place felt foreign. She thought about the journal. They had it, stacked under twenty other books and a few odd newspapers. Jett helped her and she didn't mind his attentiveness since he was the one to spot it. It took an hour to find the damn thing; she didn't want to know how long it would have taken her by herself. Now she lay on her back in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling.

She has all these feelings she doesn't know where to put; all these thoughts buzzing around in her brain. She shifts uncomfortably. Her mind was like a pot. When she met Jett things were simmering. When her nightmares started it was a boil, now for some reason it was about to boil over, about to spew out everywhere. She imagines her uncles having to clean her splattered brains off the walls; she fears her head will explode. Everything suddenly bubbles up in her chest, dying to be released. It doesn't spew out though. It dribbles.

"We had a fight." She mutters almost too softly to hear. Jett stirs beside her, and twists around to look at her face. He doesn't say anything and she's glad.

"I fought with my uncles… It got messy, they left. They went out to hunt. Save people I guess." She scratches at her neck nervously, "I lived alone for a year before I even talked to Dean again…" she waits for some sort of response. Jett doesn't give any, but it feels better that way. She continues.

It flows.

"He haunts me now. I've been mad at him for a year. We only made up for Sammy's sake, but I never truly forgot… I couldn't forgive him. He haunts me. He's a freaking monster and I can feel the flames, like he's burning me in my dreams. I can feel how hot they are while I sleep. I'm afraid of him.

It pours.

"I'm afraid of him, I'm afraid of you, I'm afraid of leaving this house, I'm afraid… I'm afraid I'm going to die alone in this place long after my uncles are dead. I'm afraid I won't have a single person in my life, and it doesn't help that I'm at odds with one of the few people I have today."

A little tear slides down the side of her face. "It's stupid…"

"No it's not," he whispers, "it's…" he loses his words.

"Please stop okay?" she wipes her nose with her sleeve, "Please stop looking at me like that I'm wounded. Stop being helpful, stop being extra nice." She rolls over turning her back to him.

Rhone sits up and leans against the head board, "You think I view you as wounded?" She doesn't respond. "I don't think you're wounded…" he says, "bruised maybe, not wounded."

"Can we please not talk about this?"

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why, Miss Mai?"

"Because it's stupid and embarrassing and you don't owe me anything to have to sit here and listen to my domestic drama." There's a coldness in her voice.

"Maybe I actually care about your domestic drama."

"That's stupid."

"You're stupid."

"Nice one."

"You're mean."

"Sorry."

Jett rolls over and turns his back to her, "I'm allowed to care about you Mai… I'm allowed to be a decent human being with compassion."

Yeah well…

"Wouldn't you act the same if the roles were reversed?" he asks her.

…well yeah… "I'm sorry." She returns

"You keep saying that."

The rooms fills with awkward silence. Mai sighs after a few moments, "I care about you too…"

"…I know."

"I don't want to lose you…"

"I'm not going anywhere."

That's what they all say…

Instead of responding, she rolls over and presses against his back, throwing an arm over his waist. He takes her wrist in his hand and traces a little circle on her skin. All is forgiven, all is forgotten. They fall asleep.

A few hours later, three knocks rape the front door. Mai's eye flick open in a heartbeat. Downstairs she can hear the key turning in the first lock, then the second, then the third.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!

"Jett!" she whispers. He doesn't stir.

"My Uncles are home early!"

A/N: So what do you think of the story so far? I really want to hear your options of the characters. What do you think about Jett or Walter or Mai? Who's your favorite? Do you hate anyone? Seriously I live off feedback, positive and negative. It makes me feel alive!

I know I'm dragging the conflict with Dean and Mai out pretty far, but trust me, it's for a reason. But it was time for her to open up to Jett a little.