Chapter 14

Sam kept a death grip on the steering wheel, speeding through Ham Lake. His eyes went from the road, to the rearview mirror to MJ, who sat beside him, silent and still, for the entire ride back to the motel. His heart was racing, but that was nothing compared to what his mind was doing. He could see the scene at the game playing over and over again: MJ with her palm flat against the glass, her cold stare fixed on the player who was strangling Garrett Sloan. And then, a weird spark in her eye, a jolt of her entire body and at the same moment the player had stilled and slumped over, unmoving and lifeless…Sam shivered involuntarily, thinking of who…or what could be after MJ if the right eyes had been on her at the time. Had anyone else seen what she'd done, noticed her strange actions that somehow seemed to stop that player, maybe even kill him? Sam glanced sideways at his sister before checking the rearview once again and pressing down a little harder on the accelerator.

They arrived at the motel before Dean, Sam parking the rental car as close as he could to their room and herding MJ inside as quickly as humanly possible. Neither of them had said a word on the ride here from the arena and this continued once they were inside, Sam locking the door behind them and drawing the curtains. He kept the lights off, occasionally glancing at MJ who satperched on the edge of one of the beds, looking to be in a nearly all consuming state of panic. Sam set about pacing between the door and windows, grabbing up clothes and stuffing them into duffel bags every few minutes. His hand absently rested on the pistol tucked in his waistband each time he pulled back the curtain to peek outside.

After about ten minutes of this, Sam took a breath and looked over at a shell shocked MJ. He took a couple slow steps toward her, looked down at her.

"MJ," He started quietly, his tone urgent. "What did you-"

The doorknob rattling interrupted him and he flew into action, pulling MJ up by the arm and shoving her behind him. He moved to the corner, away from the window where they were hidden in shadow, his left arm curled around MJ, holding her in place behind him and against the wall while his right held his gun steady, trained at the door. The only sound apart from their breathing was the unmistakable scrape of a lock pick working at the keyhole. Sam waited what seemed like an eternity, countless scenarios running through his head of what could be on the other side of that door. He could hear MJ's shallow breaths behind him, feel her fingers clutching the back of his jacket. Finally, the lock clicked, and he could just make out the door knob turning. He held his breath as the door swung open slowly and a figure crept in.

Sam had his finger on the trigger, when the light from the open doorway illuminated the man from behind as he entered the room.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam whispered harshly as he blew out a breath. He lowered his gun. "It's just us. You can put your gun away."

Dean had paused by the door, pointing his gun in the direction of Sam's voice, quickly lowering it when he realized who was talking to him.

"Sammy?" Dean fumbled for the light switch, flicking it on. Sam still hadn't moved away from MJ and Dean peered around his giant frame enough so see she was in one piece. "Jesus Christ. What are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack or what?" Dean asked crossly, closing the door behind him and locking it.

"Me scare you?" Sam gave a derisive snort of laughter, gesturing toward the front door. "Why the hell did you break in?"

Dean threw his hands up, pistol still in his right hand. "I don't have a key! I got here and saw your car with the door wide open and no sign of either one of you! And the room was pitch black!"

Sam furrowed his brows. "I didn't close the car door?" He thought back to his rush to get MJ inside and out of sight…he guessed he was hurried enough to have done that. He felt slightly chastened. "Sorry, I guess I was distracted." He moved forward a few steps finally, relinquishing his hold on MJ. She moved to the side, toward the table, looking over at Dean, who was looking anywhere but at her again.

"Shit." Dean mumbled, finally replacing his gun at is back. "What the hell happened? I burned everything in that grave." He shook his head, "It's gotta be someone else." He seemed to be having this conversation with Sam only, as if MJ wasn't even in the room.

Sam watched MJ as she moved to the table, sat down, ramrod straight, she didn't really seem to be listening to the conversation. She was staring off into space and looked pale and panicky. He pried his eyes from his sister back to Dean, shaking his head. "Someone else with an axe to grind with these same four people?" He asked skeptically. "How could that be?"

Dean paced the room in front of Sam, all the while his back to MJ. "Well then explain how she managed to go after someone almost an hour after I toasted her? Not likely."

Sam moved to the door, setting the deadbolt. "Well then there's something else, some object, something keeping her here." Sam turned to his sister who still looked like she was zoning out. He knew it was hard to focus, he was having trouble himself not throwing all of this aside and getting to the bottom of what in the hell MJ had done at the hockey game. But he knew that right now, this was more pressing. "MJ, you were at her house, talked to her mother…any ideas?"

MJ slowly focused on Sam. "What? Um," She cast around the room as if she were trying to pull her thoughts back to Allison from wherever they had been. "No," She shook her head. "Her mother kicked me out. I didn't even see her room…"

"Okay, well," Dean said, running a hand tiredly over his face. "It's too late to go back to Allison's house tonight. We'll just have to wait until morning." He walked to the table and grabbed up the room key, quickly turning back toward Sam, his back to MJ. He held up the key. "I'm gonna go grab a drink. Don't wait up."

"Hang on. You're leaving?" Sam asked incredulously.

Dean turned toward him, hand on the door knob. "What? Need me to tuck you in first?" With that Dean left, the door snapping closed behind him.

Sam blew out a breath, crossing the room and relocking the door behind Dean before turning toward MJ, who sat still as a statue. He supposed Dean was right. They couldn't go to Allison's parents' house until morning.

"MJ," He began, pulling out the chair beside her, "What happened back there?"

MJ shook her head, head down, her hair falling over her shoulders, obscuring her face. Her arms were crossed over her chest tightly. When she answered, it was in a terrified whisper, like everything that had happened had finally set in and she was crumbling under the weight of it.

"I don't know."

Sam was about to push her to explain, when his phone rang. He pulled it out, annoyed at the interruption and checked the number. It was local.

"Agent Monroe." He answered curtly.

"This is Garrett Sloan." A small, scared voice responded. There was a moment of ragged breathing on the line. "I need your help." He begged, his voice breaking. He sounded hoarse, not surprising Sam thought, after nearly being choked to death.

"Okay, just calm down. Where are you?"

Sam arranged to meet Garrett at his apartment, figuring he could both keep him alive for the time being and maybe find out something useful about what was keeping Allison's spirit here. He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath.

"We gotta go." He said reluctantly.

MJ nodded. "Yeah," she sighed, standing up. "I know."

Apparently, besides The Patch, which was still closed, there were three places total to drink in Ham Lake. One was the Ham Lake Lanes bowling alley. Dean knew this would be far too noisy and packed with kids. Then there was the T-Box Bar and Grill, which looked respectable and clean from the outside. Not really Dean's scene. The third was a place called the Brick Bar, which to Dean's relief, was quiet, dusty and definitely qualified as a dive. Dean found a table in the corner, sat with his back to the pool tables not too far behind him so he could watch the door. Old habits. Dean wasn't looking to get housed tonight. No, he'd done that just a couple nights ago and wasn't inclined to be that hung over again anytime soon. Mostly he was just looking to hide. From everything: this screwed up case, the tension between him and Sam, and most of all, from his sister. Just being in the room with her for a couple hours earlier that night had been almost more than he could bear. He knew Jenna was right. That he just had to get over this, let it go. But he didn't know how. He didn't know how to face her. He thought back to some of the conversations he'd had to have with MJ. Each time he'd dreaded it, had thought each one to be the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do in his life. He scoffed now, thinking back…they were all nothing, nothing compared to this…

Dean took a sip of the amber colored liquid in his glass, relaxed a little as it burned its way down. Driving to Lincoln, teaching Patrick King a lesson, that hadn't lessened the anger and disgust…not one bit. He'd gotten back from Lincoln earlier than he let on, had caught up with MJ at the arena after she'd ditched Sam back at the motel. The moment he'd seen her come outside, he'd felt it in his gut. He'd known that nothing had changed. Just seeing her…it physically hurt. So he'd tailed her for the rest of the day, until Sam brought her back to the motel, not ready to face the music just yet. That was until he heard Sam lighting into her like a freaking maniac. He shook his head, surprised at his younger brother's behavior. A small part of Dean was sort of relieved Sam had cracked. Ha, welcome to my world, buddy, he thought. Sam was always giving him shit about how he dealt with MJ. Now that he'd been stuck with the task he didn't last two days before he exploded. Dean sighed, taking another sip. Gloating wouldn't help matters any, though. Neither would avoiding MJ. Still, he was content to just sit here for the time being and finish his drink.

As they made their way to Garrett Sloan's apartment, Sam called the local hospital and identified himself as FBI to find out what had become of the hockey player who had attacked Garrett Sloan. When Sam relayed to his sister that the man had not died and would make a full recovery, MJ nearly broke into hysterical laughter she was so giddy with relief. Whatever she had done to shock him, stop him from killing Garrett, it hadn't killed him. MJ breathed out a long breath. She felt immensely better. Her mind was still racing and she was still anxious and confused about this weird ability, but at least she hadn't killed anyone…

"Thanks, Sam." She said sincerely, looking over toward her brother in the driver seat.

Sam nodded, eyes on the road. "We'll talk about…all of that once this is finished." It wasn't meant to be a threat, but rather a promise. Sam seemed determined to make sense of all of this. MJ wasn't sure that was possible, but she'd let Sam figure that out for himself.

Garrett sat on the couch in the middle of his minimally furnished, messy apartment. He leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him, elbows resting on his thighs, rocking back and forth slightly as he stared off into middle distance. MJ wasn't sure he even remembered letting her and Sam into the apartment, if he was even aware of Sam sitting next to him. MJ stood off a little ways away, near the window, just watching.

"Garrett," Sam said in a calming voice, leaning in close to the other man. "You gotta talk to us. What happened at that rink, you know that wasn't random. Somebody wants you and your teammates dead. And they almost succeeded tonight." Garrett stopped rocking, but didn't look up at Sam. What little color was left in his face seemed to slowly leach away as Sam continued speaking. "Now, we know what happened at The Patch a few months back. We know about Allison." At this Garrett's eyes went from glazed to razor focused and his head whipped around to face Sam. He stayed quiet for a while and MJ didn't think he was going to say anything. Sam just waited, gaze set on Garrett.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to MJ, Garrett finally spoke.

"I didn't touch her, I swear." His miserable plea came out in a rough, strained voice. Clearly his throat was still raw from nearly being choked to death.

Sam swallowed, his jaw set and is eyes still boring into the other man. "No, you didn't," Sam conceded, slowly, the calm façade slowly crumbling, "but you also didn't do anything to stop it." Sam paused, shaking his head, "and I don't think she's willing to let you off the hook for that."

Garrett looked close to tears, staring back at Sam, the panic clear in his eyes. His expression went from scared shitless to skeptical to confused to furious all in about 10 seconds, then he suddenly flew to his feet and set to pacing the living room. Sam watched his every movement closely, tensing ever so slightly whenever he drew close to MJ.

"This doesn't make any sense." Garrett accused, finger pointed at Sam. "She's dead! How could she be doing this…whatever it is, I don't…I just can't…" He seemed to be talking to himself now and Sam rose slowly, coming to stand in Garrett's path, stopping him in his tracks.

"Listen to me, Garrett. We don't have time to explain any of this to you. You know it's true. Now, we can stop her, but you have to level with us if you want to live." Sam's tone was more urgent now.

Garrett looked between Sam and MJ, clearly fighting with the part of his brain that was telling him this was all impossible. He gulped, crossing his arms in front of him. "What do you want to know?" He asked, barely above a whisper.

Sam wasted no time. "Who was there that night? When it happened?"

Garrett hesitated.

"Garrett, you either spill now or you and Jacob Miller are dead men." Sam warned, clearly losing patience.

Garrett took a breath. "Me, Patch, Jacob…Mitch and Trenton." He listed.

"And Allison?" Sam prompted.

Garrett flinched slightly at hearing her name. "Yeah." He agreed.

"Nobody else?"

"No."

"And after…" Sam didn't finish his question, letting disgust color his tone, "you left with your teammates."

Garrett nodded.

"Was Allison still there?"

"Patch told the guys they'd had enough fun for one night, said he'd get…the girl home. We were all hammered. I called a cab and we left. Nobody said a word about it."

MJ felt sick to her stomach.

"How well did you know her?" Sam asked.

Garrett's forehead scrunched up in confusion. "I didn't know her at all. I mean, she was at the bar a lot, but so were a lot of girls. I didn't even know her name until I saw that she'd…well, offed herself." He finished, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Sam was scrutinizing Garrett closely for a while before he finally turned to MJ. "I need to talk to you for a minute." He said beckoning her toward the kitchen.

They moved away from Garret, who stayed in the same spot, still looking pale and anxious.

"What do you think?" Sam asked her in a hushed tone.

She didn't need any clarification. Her mind was reeling, but she forced her jumbled brain to focus on the problem at hand. "I think the bar is our best bet. It's where everything went down. Everybody she's offed was there that night. And that's where I had my vision." Something she'd been mulling over silently was at the forefront of her mind and she knew she needed to share it with Sam now. "That vision…it was stronger and…more vivid than any of the others. But I wasn't even touching a person at the time. I picked up the cue ball off the pool table and wham!" She shook her head, remembering how hard it had hit her. "To get that strong of a connection without making contact with a person…I mean, what happened to her…it happened on the pool table…maybe some…part…of Allison is still there." She explained as best she could, feeling awkward.

Thankfully Sam was catching on quickly and she was saved from having to go into any further detail. "So maybe we gotta burn that pool table." Sam concluded.

MJ nodded. "I think it's our best bet."

Garrett's phone rang and they both watched him as he dug it out of his pocket and answered it.

Sam turned back to face his sister. "So what do we do with Tweedle Dumb?" He asked canting his head toward Garrett.

MJ opened her mouth to answer when Garrett's alarmed voice stopped her. They both turned as he yelled into his phone, clearly even more panicked than before.

"Jacob, you have to calm down, man! Where are you?" There was a pause while Garrett listened. MJ could hear someone screaming back at him through the phone. "Jacob? Hello? Jacob?!" Garrett dropped the phone to his side, alarm written on his face as he looked up at the siblings who were approaching him now.

"What's going on, Garrett?" Sam demanded as he drew level with him.

Garrett shook his head, confused. "I don't know. He said I was right and that she's trying to kill him."

"Where is he?" Sam yelled already dialing his phone.

Garrett locked eyes with Sam. "At the bar."