Jo was in the back, puttering around in the storage area. Moving boxes, rearranging things and generally just helping her mom clean up and organize things a bit. They were going to restock supplies while Jo was here visiting so they needed to make room. Jo didn't mind helping out. She did kind of miss the place now that she didn't live here full-time anymore. It was the place she called home, such as it is.

The cleaning and moving was also giving her something to do, to occupy her time. Jo had talked to Greg the day before and he had said he was going to stop by. Something about his hunt turning out to be nothing. She hadn't seen Greg in a little while so she seemed to have a lot of nervous energy for some reason.

She stopped moving when she thought she heard the sound of the front door close. Then a tentative, but familiar male voice said her name. Smiling, she wiped her hands on the apron and heard the voice again, calling her mother's name this time.

Hurrying from the backroom she stopped for a moment at the archway that lead to the main part of the bar. There he was and she was glad to see him. With a grin she made her way over to him, walking quickly. Not quite running but obviously moving faster than a normal walk. She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. Not really thinking about what she was doing.

"Hey, Greg. Damn, I missed you."

After a few moments or so, they broke apart. Jo chewed on her lip a bit.

"You want some coffee? A beer? Something to eat?"

She made her way to the bar and motioned for him to take a seat on one of the stools. Leaning against the edge of the bar she waited to see if he wanted anything.

It was dank and musty in the basement. The place was a damn deathtrap, cluttered with boxes, old furniture and God knew what else. Not many people could navigate the area without knocking something over or smacking their heads on something – a beam, a low-hanging pipe. Even after the renovation Ellen had managed to clutter the basement with crap.

“Ow! Son of a bitch.”

Her shin had collided with something hard, sending pain through her leg like a shock. Something toppled to the floor and Ellen grimaced as she bent to see what she’d knocked over. It was a photo album. One that had been set on top of a cardboard box. Ellen flipped it open to the first page. Her husband’s face smiled up at her, his arm around a much younger version of herself. She smiled, remembering why she’d never managed to get rid of all the clutter in the basement.

A few minutes later, Ellen made her way upstairs, lugging a cardboard box that was a hell of a lot heavier than it looked. She heard a voice as she toed the door open. Jo. She couldn’t make out what she was saying, but there was a brightness in her tone she hadn’t heard in a long time. Who the hell was she talking to? A distinctly male voice answered. One Ellen couldn’t place immediately. She set the box down in what used to be Ash’s room. Now it was her office. She raked a hand through her hair to get it out of her face as she headed out to the bar.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, watching a scruffy-looking guy take a seat at the bar. It took a moment for her to recognize him. Last time she’d seen Greg his hair had been longer and he’d had a good amount of facial hair. He looked more put together now.

“Well, hey,” she said.

She smiled at Greg as she stepped into the large room.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. What brings you around?”

Greg was a hunter. Not the most seasoned, but competent. Most hunters came to the Roadhouse for the chatter, or to get a lead on a case. She assumed that was why Greg was there.

Greg watched Jo walk behind the bar to get a bottle of water. She seemed comfortable, right at home behind the bar. He supposed it made sense, with all the time she’d spent at the Roadhouse over the years. He smiled and nodded his thanks when Jo set the water down. He took a long sip while Jo got comfortable.

“My mom’s…”

She stopped abruptly and Greg raised an eyebrow.

“Speak of the devil.”

Greg turned his head, following Jo’s gaze to see Ellen approaching. He’d frequented the Roadhouse, like a lot of hunters, and he’d spoken to Ellen a handful of times over a few years.

“Well, hey,” she said.

Greg returned her smile and gave a small wave.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. What brings you around?”

He glanced over at Jo, suddenly wondering if his visit was supposed to be a secret. No. Why would it be a secret? It wasn’t like they had anything to hide.

“Oh. I guess I forgot to mention he was coming. I talked to him on the phone last night,” Jo said.

Greg swallowed, suddenly feeling a little awkward. Jo gave him a smile and a shrug.

With her eyes still on the box Jo watched as her mother set aside a large book looking object and then started to pull more items out of the box. Craning her neck a bit she could see that the book was actually a photo album. She cocked an eyebrow up as she moved over and picked it up off the counter. With the book tucked under one arm she went back to the beer cooler.

"Oh man... I think this is going to require a beer. A photo album, mom? I didn't think you kept any of these."

Jo came back around to the other side of the bar. Pulling up a chair, she sat down next to Greg and put the album down in front of her. She twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long drink from the beer before setting that down out of the way of the book.

Jo hadn't really realized that she was holding her breath, until it escaped in a rush when she slowly opened the thick cover on the photo album. The first picture to stare up at her was one of her mother and father smiling. From the cock-eyed angle of the photo, it was a safe bet that Jo had been the one behind the camera. It took a mimnute or so, but then the memory surfaced. She remembered that day almost 20 years ago. It had been her eighth birthday and her dad had gotten her a real camera. Not a digital one like now, but a camera with film and flashbulbs and everything.

That was one of the things about her dad, he never treated her like a little kid. The camera was a gift for a big girl and at eight, it was perfect. Jo had spent the entire day taking pictures of anything and everything. Long after the film ran out she kept snapping away. She was pretty sure her mom had to hide the camera in the end to stop her from taking pictures and finally go to bed.

Jo let her finger tips touch the picture lightly and found herself blinking quickly. Sliding her hand under the page she flipped it over to the next one and found herself looking back at her. It was all awkward looking with her new big front teeth smiling like a crazy person and her braided blonde pigtails hanging down the front of her shirt as she hammed it up for the camera.

"Oh Jesus Christ. I knew beer would be needed for this."

Shaking her head she let the page flop open and reached for the bottle. Tipping the beer back for another long pull. She was not prepared for this little trip down memory lane.

Ellen snickered at Jo’s comment. She was surprised Ellen had kept a photo album. True, she didn’t break them out much. Some days what was going on in the present was bad enough and she didn’t need to dredge up old, bad memories along with it. Ellen shrugged.

“I found it in the basement while I was rummaging around. Thought you might want to see it.”

I didn’t know you had a friend over, she almost said, but she kept the thought to herself. Greg seemed like a nice enough guy and she didn’t want to be rude. Ellen continued to pull various things out of the box as Jo and Greg looked at the album. She took a bunch of glasses over to the sink. A few of the new employees had been dropping glasses like they got paid for it. Which, in a way, they did. It was a small sink, much smaller than the one in the kitchen, but it would do the job. Ellen grabbed a cloth from a drawer and ran it under the water. She squeezed a bit of dampness out of the cloth and bent to get some dish soap from a cupboard.

“Oh Jesus Christ. I knew beer would be needed for this.”

Ellen smiled a little, wondering what picture she’d stumbled across. Soaped up cloth abandoned at the sink, she headed over, peering at the album upside down from the other side of the bar. Jo was about eleven, if Ellen had to guess, with her newly-grown front teeth and two braided pigtails she’d insisted on at the time. That was her Pocahontas phase, if Ellen remembered right, which happened somewhere between her photography phase and her knife phase. Though, the knife phase had been one she’d never really outgrown, much to Ellen’s dismay. She supposed she had Bill to blame for that.

She shook her head once, as if to get a few strands of hair out of her face. Thoughts like that were why she rarely pulled out a photo album.

Greg made a teasing comment about Jo’s pigtails, tugging playfully at her hair. Ellen raised an eyebrow. Not many people could lay a hand on Jo in surprise like that without walking away bloody. Then again, not many men were ballsy enough to try it. Ellen eyed the pair suspiciously, getting the feeling there was something she didn’t know.

“Well, you two seem chummy,” she commented.

Her tone was light, conversational, but there was an edge of suspicion she couldn’t quite keep out of it.

“You been keepin’ in touch since Louisiana?”

Of course Ellen knew about their hunt down in the bayou. She’d been the one to give Greg the tip, only to find out later Jo had hauled him out of some witch’s burning house.

Jo took Greg’s teasing in stride. She smiled, saying she could pull off pigtails if she dressed as Dorothy from Wizard of Oz. Or a naughty school girl. That one made Greg choke on the sip of water he’d been taking. He laughed, wiping a few drops of water off his chin. Picturing Jo as a naughty schoolgirl wasn’t exactly unappealing. In a moment he was the one blushing.

Greg glanced guiltily up at Ellen when Jo cleared her throat. ‘Okay. Don’t look like you were just picturing her daughter in a sexy schoolgirl uniform…’ he thought. He hoped his facial expression wasn’t betraying him.

“Well, you two seem chummy,” Ellen observed. “You been keepin’ in touch since Louisiana?”

Louisiana. Jeez, that seemed like a long time ago. Greg thought back to the first time he’d seen Jo, sitting at a table at some dive bar with all her case files open in front of her. Greg had stolen several glances at her before buying her a beer. Who knew they would’ve ended up on a hunt together? Several, in fact. Greg ran his fingers along his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble starting. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. He was relieved when Jo answered the question, getting him off the hook for now.

“Ummm... Well, yeah. Of course we've stayed in touch,” she said. “We’re friends.”

There was a twinge of something in his gut at the word ‘friends.’ Not any feeling he could identify, but some kind of discomfort for sure.

“We've gone out on some hunts together and stuff,” Jo continued. “It's good to have someone you can trust watch your back. Right?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Greg’s mouth then. Greg had a feeling there weren’t many people Jo trusted. He felt almost flattered to be included on what was probably a short list. Greg met Jo’s gaze when she looked at him and she gave what he thought was a confused shrug. He just smiled in return.

“It’s no big deal,” she said.

Jo turned her attention back to the photo album. Greg glanced down at it and looked up at Ellen, not sure what to say after that.

“She’s handy to have on a hunt,” he said. “Good with a shotgun.”

He took a long sip of water, suddenly wishing he’d asked for a beer.