A/N: Hey, there! So I tried my best to keep Dean true to his character in this one. To be honest, I really hadn't put much thought into Biz's demise, but you all seemed quite eager to see him get his just desserts. So, I hope this lives up to your expectations! Enjoy!
Dean and Sam exited the warehouse, bruised and battered. Sam limped along next to his brother, his left leg bleeding freely just below the knee where Meg had sliced him. Dean had the clearly shaken terrier tucked under his left arm, massaging the large knot that had formed on the back of his head with his free hand.
"God I feel like a freakin' rag doll." He muttered. Kinzie looked up at him, canting her head to the side.
"Yeah, I guess getting repeatedly tossed into a wall has that effect." Sam replied.
Dean gave a grateful sigh as they reached the Impala.
"At least it's over and she's dead. She can't mess with us anymore." Sam commented opening the passenger side door and climbing in. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally. He had prepared himself to come face to face with the evil thing that killed his mother and girlfriend. He found he had been equal parts relieved and disappointed to learn that Meg had tricked them, had only pretended to be in league with the demon responsible for ruining their family in order to lure them there so she could draw out their father and kill him, kill them all. He found he was annoyed with himself for feeling relieved.
Dean nodded in agreement as he opened the back door. "Yeah, and for once I'm glad Dad didn't show." He paused, holding the small dog out in front of him. "Don't pee in my car." He said sternly. Kinzie whined and licked her nose in response.
Dean got behind the wheel and started the car, noticing Sam's knowing grin.
"What?" He snapped at his brother.
"Dude, I can't believe you're letting that dog ride in your car."
Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, watching the dog scurry back and forth on the seat, looking first out the driver side window, and then scampering over to the passenger side, all the while her tongue hanging stupidly out of her mouth, her tail wagging like crazy.
"Shut it." Dean ordered, putting the car in gear and heading toward the motel.
Sam was silent for a few minutes.
"Seriously though, Dean, once you've returned the dog what do you say we take off tonight?" Sam said hopefully. Dean shot him an incredulous look. "Come on, man. We only stayed to take care of Meg and she's dead. Let's just forget about this Biz guy and get the hell out of here before the cops connect the dead girl in the alley with us."
Dean started to protest, and then stopped, looking at Sam with wide eyed excitement.
He barked out a laugh. "Sammy, you're freakin' brilliant!" Dean exclaimed, looking like inspiration had struck.
"I am?" Sam asked, wondering what frightening plans were forming in Dean's head.
Dean's only response was to hang a quick U-turn.
"Wait here." Dean ordered as he scooped up the dog and headed into the motel.
Sam rolled his window down. "Seriously, Dean?" He called after his brother, a note of panic in his voice. "This was your idea! Why don't you wait in the car with the-"
"Hey!" Dean shouted taking a couple steps back toward the car. "Keep it down would ya? You want to attract attention to yourself right now?"
Sam just looked up at his brother, exasperated.
Dean held up two fingers. "Two minutes, tops." He said, loping up to the motel room.
MJ bolted up off the bed when Dean entered. She took in the bruises forming on his face and the cut along his arm before noting the dog he was carrying like a football.
"Are you okay?" She asked approaching him. "What happened? Where's Sam?"
Dean brushed her hands away as she reached out to assess his injuries. "Whoa. Easy. Sam's in the car. I'm fine. We're both fine." He assured her, passing the dog to her. "Here, I need you to call Jenna and tell her the dog is okay and that I'll return her to her in the morning. Just watch her until we get back."
"Where are you going?" MJ asked clearly disappointed that they were leaving again so soon. She had spent the last three hours fretting over their safety and really didn't have the strength to worry any longer.
"We just gotta tie up some loose ends." Dean said, heading toward the door.
"Dean wait."
"Stay in the room and make sure you don't break the salt lines." He said opening the door.
"Dean!" She all but screamed, making him stop and turn toward her and really look at her for the first time since returning. She looked so young, standing there clutching the dog to her chest, a look of panic on her face.
"What is it?" He asked taking a step back toward her.
MJ just looked at him for a moment. She swallowed, taking a deep breath. "Did you get him?" She asked quietly.
Dean didn't have to ask what she meant. He shook his head. "No, but we took care of Meg." Dean forced a smirk. "She'll think twice before she insults Dean Winchester again."
"So not the time for jokes." MJ admonished.
Dean made his way toward her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "We're okay. Okay?" He asked her, watching her face carefully as he awaited her response.
She gave a feeble nod.
"We will be right back. I promise." He leaned down and kissed her forehead before heading back to the door. "Just keep the fluff ball occupied and don't let her pee on my stuff." He ordered before pulling the door closed behind him. MJ stood staring at the closed door for several minutes, absently scratching Kinzie's ears.
"I am so not okay with this, Dean." Sam spat angrily. He and Dean sat in the Impala in the parking lot of the dive they had visited two nights before. From here, they had a clear view of the black Lincoln Navigator that Biz had parked in the back corner of the lot, a good distance away from all the other cars.
"Look, Sammy just wait until I've been inside five minutes, then make the…deposit. As soon as you do, you call 911 and then wait down the road for me." He looked over at his younger brother. "It's foolproof."
Sam looked back at Dean in disbelief. "Foolproof?" He asked, barking a humorless laugh. "Foolproof? You must be joking. I've actually never heard of a plan where more things could go horribly wrong, Dean!" Sam was nearly hysterical.
"Hey!" Dean shouted. "This guy threatened MJ. What if he makes good on that? Do you really want him to get away with hurting our sister?"
Sam leveled an exasperated look at Dean. "Of course not, but doesn't this seem just a little extreme to you?"
Dean shook his head. "Hell, no. This guy is a drug dealing piece of shit, Sam. He's getting exactly what he deserves."
Without another word Dean opened his car door and stepped out. He leaned down sticking his head back in the car. "Five minutes." He said before slamming the car door and heading into the bar.
Dean stood in the doorway, scanning the room for Biz. He spotted him sitting at the same corner table, his ball cap pulled low over his eyes, scanning the crowd. Dean flexed his fingers, his knuckles cracking before he swiftly made his way toward the man. Biz was focused on a waitress to his left, watching her as she leaned over, serving drinks to a table of customers. Dean took advantage of the man's preoccupation.
"Knock, knock." Dean said. As Biz turned toward Dean's voice, Dean smashed his fist into the man's jaw with enough force to knock him sideways off his chair and send him sprawling onto the floor. There were several gasps from patrons, and the waitress Biz had been watching actually screamed.
All eyes were on Dean as he stepped forward and stood over Biz. The man on the floor rolled onto his back, clearly dazed. He looked up at Dean, slowly regaining his focus. He shook his head rapidly, rage slowly replacing the look of shock on his face. "That wasn't smart." He snarled.
"Get up." Dean said, looking down at him.
Biz reached into his pocket. He was quick, but Dean was ready. No sooner had he flicked the blade open than Dean had kicked it out of his hand, sending it skittering away and coming to rest under one of the pool tables.
"I said get up." Dean repeated.
Biz was seething as he got to his feet, never taking his eyes off of Dean.
"Where's little Mary? I was looking forward to seeing a whole lot more of her." Biz said, leering at Dean.
"Come on, take a shot." Dean said, ignoring the man's comment about his sister.
Biz shook his head, chuckling. "You have no idea the world of hurt you just brought down on yourself."
Dean shrugged. "So what's new?"
"What is she to you?" Biz asked, still leering. "Niece? Sister?"
"Enough talk, guy. What, are you afraid to take a shot?" Dean goaded.
Biz started laughing again. "Wendy used to offer her up, you know. When she was out of money and needed a fix." Biz shrugged taking half a step toward Dean. "She offered her to me once or twice." Biz gave a nasty smile, shaking his head. "After hearing the stories from some friends who accepted the offer, I was sorry I missed out." He looked Dean straight in the eye, his expression turning serious. "I wouldn't make that mistake again."
Dean lunged at the man, knocking him back to the floor. Biz was strong though, and he was ready for it this time. He quickly overpowered Dean and got a few good punches in before Dean threw him off, scrambling to his feet. Biz followed suit and swung at Dean. Dean dodged the blow, grabbing Biz by the shoulders and pulling him forward, kneeing him hard in the stomach. Biz bent forward, winded and Dean took advantage of his momentary incapacitation to land a jab to his mouth. Biz stumbled backward falling against a table. Dean pulled him upright by the collar of his shirt and smashed his fist into the man's face again. And again. And again. Biz's mouth was bleeding freely and Dean was satisfied to see that he had effectively wiped the smirk from his face. It had been replaced by a vacant, dazed look. Dean heard the sirens outside and relinquished his hold on Biz's shirt, letting the man stumble back and land in a chair. Dean stood, staring angrily down at Biz, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Believe it or not, pal, your night is about to get a whole lot worse." Dean turned to leave, but stopped, facing Biz once more. "Pleasure seeing you again." He spat before walking away.
Dean made his way quickly out the back door and around the side of the building, sticking to the shadows. He made his way down the alley beside the bar, and stopped, hiding behind a dumpster to catch a peek at the officers approaching Biz's vehicle cautiously. One of them raised his flashlight, shining it into the backseat. "Whoa!" He shouted, unholstering his gun. "I've got a body over here!" Several more officers approached, weapons drawn.
"What do you have?" Another cop shouted.
"A dead girl and a shitload of guns." The first answered excitedly.
Dean slipped away quietly, having heard enough. He walked down the mostly deserted street for about ten minutes before catching sight of the Impala and running toward it.
He climbed into the passenger seat. "Go." He said, not looking over at Sam.
Sam gave Dean a surprised look. "You okay?" He had expected more gloating that the plan had worked. Maybe even an 'I told you so'. And he had definitely anticipated Dean forcing him out of the driver's seat. "It worked, right?" Sam said, suddenly nervous that something had gone wrong.
"Yeah, it worked. He's probably getting arrested right now."
Sam just looked at his brother, brow furrowed. Dean turned to him, exasperated.
"Just drive, Sammy." He ordered, turning to stare straight out the windshield, his face betraying no emotion, his jaw muscle twitching every few seconds.
Sam drove toward the motel, keeping his mouth shut. His stomach tightened at the drastic change in Dean's demeanor. Something had happened inside the bar. Dean did look a little roughed up, but nothing out of the ordinary for them. As they neared the motel, Sam couldn't take it any longer.
"Dean, what's going on?" Sam demanded.
Dean just shook his head, not bothering to look over at his brother.
Sam was getting really annoyed. He pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park. "Look, I just loaded a dead demon into the back of a drug dealer's car along with half a dozen pistols and sawed off shotguns, breaking God knows how many laws in the process. I think I deserve to know what the hell went on in that bar."
Dean finally turned toward Sam, considering the younger man carefully. Sam was right, Dean knew that. He needed to know what Biz had said, especially since they would have to confront MJ about it, and there was no way in hell Dean could do that alone. But Dean knew how much it would hurt Sam to hear it, and he wanted to spare his sibling that pain.
"I'm waiting for an answer, Dean." Sam said slowly, turning in his seat to face his brother.
Dean would have smiled, maybe even laughed out loud at the irony of it if he weren't so sick to his stomach with nerves. Those were the words he had used on MJ when he had discovered the mark Biz left on her arm. He had been so pissed at her for trying to keep things from him. Well, shit, he thought as he sighed, running a hand over his face.
Dean took a deep breath. "This Biz guy said something while we were fighting. Something about MJ." He started. He watched as Sam's body visibly stiffened.
"What about her?" Sam asked quietly.
Dean paused, trying to decide how best to word his response. He opened his mouth a few times, then changed his mind and closed it. Sam was getting impatient.
"Dean." He pleaded, unable to take the suspense.
Dean decided there was no point trying to soften the blow. "He said Wendy was offering up MJ in exchange for drugs." Dean said quickly, looking anywhere but at his brother.
Sam's eyes widened, as he processed this. "What do you mean 'offering her up'?"
"Come on, Sammy, don't make me say it." Dean spat, still avoiding Sam's gaze.
Both brothers were silent, lost in their own tortured, furious thoughts. Sam ran a hand through his hair, finally turning away from Dean.
"What do we do?" Sam finally asked, and Dean heard the sadness in his voice mixed with the anger.
Dean knew the answer to this. He knew what Jenna would tell him to do, and he knew it was the right thing. Still, going from knowing what was right to actually doing it…that was one big freaking leap.
Dean swallowed, turning back to Sam. "Well, we-" he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "We gotta talk to her about it. See if it's true." Dean took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, knowing he was way ill equipped for this. He could barely say it, how in the hell was he going to actually do it?
It was nearly 3 AM when Dean and Sam pulled into the motel parking lot. They walked quietly toward their room. Dean reached out to unlock the door when Sam's hand shot out, halting his progress.
"I think we should do this tonight. Talk to her, I mean. No point putting it off." He said when Dean looked up at him.
Dean looked almost frightened at the idea, then his face brightened ever so slightly. "Unless she's asleep. Wouldn't want to wake her." He said hopefully.
Sam gave him a patronizing look. "Please."
Dean frowned, knowing as well as Sam that MJ was wide awake, waiting for their safe return. Sure enough, no sooner had he pushed the door open than, for the second time that night, MJ was practically on top of him, firing off questions.
"Where the hell were you guys? What happened to your face? Is that your blood or someone else's?"
Kinzie yipped at them, standing beside MJ, tail wagging like mad. MJ ran her finger over the cut above Dean's left eye. He knew it probably needed stitches, but he had bigger problems right now. He took hold of MJ's wrist, lowering her arm back to her side.
"We need to talk." He canted his head toward the bed. Sit down."
MJ opened her mouth to protest but was cut off by Dean.
"I'll explain everything later, MJ, but this can't wait. It's important."
MJ looked confused, but did as she was told and perched herself on the bottom of the bed, arms crossed. Dean sat beside her on the bed. Sam pulled a chair over from the table, positioning it in front of his siblings. The dog seemed to sense the tension in the room, and set up camp on MJ's feet.
"What's wrong?" MJ asked, the worry, evident in her voice.
Dean rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. He turned toward MJ, his hands clasped together, trying to hide the fact that they were shaking. He couldn't remember ever feeling so uncomfortable in his entire life. He looked to Sam, silently begging him to take over. The look Sam gave him made it quite clear Sam was not taking the reins on this one. After fixing Sam with a quick glare, Dean turned back to MJ.
"Look, uh," he began pausing to collect his thoughts. "We ran into Biz tonight and-"
"Ran into or went looking for?" MJ asked knowingly.
Dean held up a hand, silencing her. "It doesn't matter." He continued. "He said some things to me that uh, well, if they're true, we really need to know."
"What kind of things?" MJ asked suspiciously. When Dean didn't answer right away she turned to Sam. Sam gestured back to Dean.
MJ turned back to Dean, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Dean! What kind of things?"
Dean reluctantly looked up at her. "He said that Wendy…traded you. For drugs. Made you do things with dealers."
MJ was silent, staring stony faced at her brother, watching as a blush crept up his cheeks.
No one spoke. The silence was deafening, and what was probably less than a minute seemed like hours before MJ responded, still staring at Dean.
"Are you asking me if my mother pimped me out in exchange for drugs?"
Neither brother answered, both looking back at her expectantly. Dean's heart hammered in his chest as he waited for her response. He dreaded hearing it, but didn't think he could take the suspense any longer. A quick glance at Sam told him his brother felt the same way.
MJ took a deep breath, her expression still unreadable.
"That is the most ridiculous, disgusting thing I have ever heard." She said angrily.
Dean just stared at her, not allowing himself to feel relieved until she flat out denied it, but not able to form a coherent sentence at the moment.
Sam picked up on Dean's sudden inability to speak. "So it's not true, then?" He asked.
MJ looked back and forth between them. "Of course it's not true! Why would you believe anything that came out of that miscreant's mouth?"
Dean was so weak with relief, he couldn't even raise his head to look at MJ. He stared down at the floor, taking deep breaths as his heart rate returned to normal.
"Oh, thank God." He heard Sam murmur.
MJ groaned as she stood, making her way toward the armchair where she had left her duffel bag. Kinzie trotted after her. "You guys are ridiculous, you know that? Some piece of shit drug dealer tells you I was a whore and you just assume it's true!" She shouted at them as she rifled through the bag.
Dean stood suddenly, Sam following suit. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." He said approaching her. "I never said that you were…that. I never thought you were choosing to do it, MJ. That's not what we were asking. Not at all."
She yanked her toothbrush from the bag and turned toward him. "Look, it really doesn't matter anyway, because it never happened." She moved to walk around Dean, but he stepped to the side, blocking her path.
"MJ," He said, "Don't be mad. We're just glad you're mother didn't…make you…you know." Dean cleared his throat, the feeling of awkwardness returning.
MJ's face softened. "I know, Dean." She sighed. "I'm really tired, okay? I'm going to get ready for bed."
Dean nodded stepping out of her way. He turned to Sam once she was in the bathroom, the water running. "See? No sweat. I told you we could handle it." He grinned, smacking Sam on the chest.
Sam chuckled at the obvious relief Dean was feeling and couldn't help but feel a little jealous that he wasn't feeling it, too. Dean had bought MJ's performance hook, line and sinker. Sam hadn't.