A/N: Howdy! On to a new case! I'm very excited about this one...it's gonna be a good time:) Thanks so much for reading. You're all truly awesome people! Enjoy!

Chapter 5

Dean glanced back at MJ for what felt to her like the millionth time since they'd left Sioux Falls. MJ had popped her ear buds in and blasted her music as soon as they were on the road and was carefully avoiding meeting Dean's eye. For nearly four hours she watched out of her peripheral vision his repeated attempts to catch her eye. She reluctantly put her iPod away when the battery died just after crossing into Minnesota and stared resolutely out the window.

Needless to say she was still pissed at Dean. A little because he insisted on treating her like a child. A tiny bit because he no doubt beat the crap out of Patrick. A tad because he didn't respect her privacy whatsoever. And a whole hell of a lot because he absolutely humiliated her in front of Sam and Bobby. She didn't know how he even knew about the photos, but he didn't have to broadcast their existence to everyone. She had a sick feeling in her stomach when she considered the possibility that Dean had actually seen any of the pictures. They weren't meant for anyone's eyes except Patrick's.

She grew even more agitated when she thought about what Dean had no doubt done to Patrick. MJ could only guess at the extent of his injuries. She couldn't even check in with him to see if he was okay and find out exactly what happened after she left the room. She'd found the pieces of his destroyed phone scattered all over her bedroom floor. Even if he replaced his phone, she wasn't getting hers back from Dean any time soon.

"Ham Lake, Minnesota. Home of the Hocks." Dean announced, interrupting her fuming thoughts as they passed the city limits sign entering Ham Lake. Dean grinned over his shoulder at MJ. "Clever."

MJ rolled her eyes, looking out the window at the small town scenery. She could tell he was trying really hard to get her to respond to him in some way besides a death glare, but she had no intentions of giving in. On some level she knew she was being childish and bratty, but she was too mad to care.

"What's the deal on this one again?" Dean asked, giving up on her and turning his attention to Sam as they cruised slowly down the main drag looking for a motel.

"The Ham Lake Hocks are a semi-pro hockey team. Sorta like a starter league for young guys hoping to go pro." He recited. "Two days ago the Hocks took on the Rampage."

"Raleigh?" Dean guessed.

"Rockford." Sam corrected. "So, anyway, Walton Crantz, one of the Rampage brutally attacked Trenton Hill during the game and he didn't stop until Hill was dead. Cause of death blunt force trauma to the head. Crantz says he had no memory of the attack, like it wasn't even him on the ice at the time." Sam flipped through some papers as he continued. "Second one like it in the league. A week ago a River Rat stuck it to an Ice Cat during a game."

Dean smirked. "You're not even trying to be dirty are you?" He teased.

Sam gave Dean a disapproving look, but otherwise ignored the comment. "Slit his throat with his skate blade. No memory of the attack."

Dean cleared his throat. "So, demonic possession, maybe?"

Sam placed his research back in the folder. "Could be."

"Okay, so victim or killer first?" Dean asked.

"Check out the body I guess." Sam answered with a non-committal shrug.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at MJ. She was staring out the window a scowl on her face that Dean was pretty sure was becoming permanent.

"You care to weigh in on this?" Dean asked her, eyes back on the road.

"Nope." She answered shortly, refusing to look his way.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Dean mumbled, pulling into a rundown motel.

After quickly changing into their FBI suits at the motel they drove to the morgue and spoke to the medical examiner, getting a copy of the autopsy report. None of this proved very helpful. There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary about the body either, that is unless you considered being pummeled until it no longer looked human out of the ordinary.

They piled back into the Impala and drove toward the correctional facility where Crantz was being held. MJ had hung back at the morgue, staying quiet, not really getting involved. But she had been listening, taking it all in. She figured there was no point sulking forever. She could be pissed at Dean and still do something useful. And since Dean had informed her she'd be sticking to them like glue everywhere they went and had made her dress in the evil skirt suit, she might as well play the part.

As they drove along MJ leaned toward the front seat, reaching over the seat back to grab at one of the folders sitting on the bench seat between her brothers. She pulled out the autopsy report, settling back against the seat thumbing to the end where the police report was attached. She began carefully reading through it, hoping to gather some background before they met with Crantz.

Disappointed in what she'd read MJ replaced the report in its folder and set it back in the front seat as they pulled up to the county jail. They flashed their badges and walked around the line of visitors at the metal detectors and were ushered into a waiting area where they reluctantly had to relinquish all of their weapons. Once they were all weapon free, much to Dean's displeasure, they were ushered into another waiting area, the heavy metal door clanging shut ominously behind them. After a few minutes of waiting a hardened looking correction's officer came through another metal door, holding it open behind him as he eyed them, not bothering to hide his annoyance. His gaze stopped on MJ, looking her up and down. She looked back at him, not caring for the way he was smirking at her like she was a bad joke. She felt Dean and Sam tense on either side of her as his gaze continued to linger on her.

"You're a Fed?" He asked incredulously.

MJ took a step forward her eyes hardening as she stared back at him. "I'm a trainee." She defended as she felt rather than saw Dean and Sam move forward with her. "You got a problem with women agents?" MJ challenged, trying to react as a true FBI agent would if their credentials were questioned.

He snorted. "It ain't what you got between your legs that's the problem, sweetheart. You're practically jailbait. How old are you anyway?"

Dean moved forward a step, his face an ugly shade of puce. "Hey! You think it's wise to talk to a federal agent like that?" Dean asked. The man tore his gaze from MJ to glare at Dean. "She's legit. Now if you wanna keep your job I suggest you quit gawking like an idiot and bring us Walton Crantz." Dean spat.

The guard eyed Dean, looking like he wanted to argue some more, but eventually thought better of it and turned back toward the door he'd come through. "This ain't a fancy federal prison. We don't bring inmates up. You gotta go down to them." He said in a clipped tone. "Crantz is in the Special Handling Unit. Where we keep the head cases. I'll take you to him." He stood to the side, holding the door open, waiting for them to go ahead.

Dean stepped forward, still eyeing the guard, his eyes hostile. MJ followed Dean through the doorway, riled up even more than she was before. If she were a real Fed she'd totally get this jackass fired.

"Uh, Agent Cooper?" Sam asked, looking to Dean uncertainly. "Maybe Agent Monroe should wait here." He said.

Dean looked back at Sam, taking in his anxious face. "What's up?" He asked, falling back so they were out of the guard's ear shot.

Sam leaned down, his voice low. "You're gonna take MJ into the jail? Are you serious?"

"What, they're locked up, Sammy. She'll be fine." Dean said dismissively.

"Dean she's wearing a skirt for God's sake!" Sam hissed.

"Sam, she has to go with us, okay? I'm not letting her out of my sight, so we have no other option." Dean said, his tone final.

Sam still seemed unsure, but followed his siblings through the doorway, casting a warning glance at the guard when he passed him.

The guard took them down in an elevator and along a narrow hallway before pausing outside another heavy metal door. He radioed in, asking for admittance. Dean didn't miss the snarky way he said "couple of feds and their trainee." This guy needed to get over himself and fast before Dean gave him a much needed attitude adjustment.

There was a loud clicking and the door opened toward them just a crack. The guard pulled it open wide and stepped to the side.

"He's the one in the corner staring at the table. Ignore everybody else. If he gets rowdy and you guys can't handle him," he eyed Sam and Dean seemingly convinced that they could not hold their own against one unarmed, crazy, psycho killer, "call for the guard at the desk." When no one moved he gestured impatiently with his hand. "You want to see him, right?" He asked, annoyed.

Sam glanced into the room. There were cells lining the back of the large open space, but most were empty, their occupants walking freely through the unit. There was a guard at a desk in the far corner, watching a group of monitors in front of him, paying very little attention to the handful of inmates who were shuffling about or sitting around, talking to themselves. Sam looked back to the guard.

"They're not locked up?" He asked in disbelief.

"Look, buddy, I ain't got all day. They're all pumped full of sedatives. So out of it, Little Miss Trainee could probably take them." He pointed at MJ.

Sam looked at Dean, who looked a little unsure, but nodded his approval all the same before walking hesitantly through the doorway. Sam gestured for MJ to go ahead of him. When she passed the guard he looked down at her, an evil looking smile on his face. "You should probably avoid eye contact with any of these psychos. They're likely to mistake you for their girlfriends and try to take you to their cells for a conjugal." He seemed hopeful at the prospect. Sam just glared at him as he followed closely behind MJ, the guard slamming the door behind them with such force that half the inmates and the guard at the desk looked up at them.

Dean stopped a few feet into the unit, scanning the room before looking over toward Crantz. He looked over his shoulder at MJ and said quietly, "Stay between Sam and I while we're in here." It was a direct order and MJ had no intention of disobeying. This place creeped her out and it hadn't escaped her notice that even the most doped up looking men in here were staring directly at her. She followed behind Dean as closely as she could without stepping on the backs of his shoes. She could feel Sam behind her, practically touching her back and for once she was glad her brothers were overprotective freaks.

Dean stopped when he reached the table Crantz was seated at and looked down at him. MJ moved to stand beside Dean, Sam moving to her right side. MJ knew from the file that Crantz was nineteen, but he looked no older than her. Maybe it was the way the pale brown scrubs hung loosely from him, two sizes too big, or the way he nervously chewed his nails, his face betraying his state of near panic, but he looked young and vulnerable sitting there alone and far from a cold blooded killer.

"Walton Crantz." Dean said, not really a question. Only then did Crantz look up at him, clearly uninterested even when they flashed their badges. He said nothing.

"Mind if we sit down?" Dean asked even as he pulled out the chair closest to the man.

Crantz still said nothing, going back to chewing on his thumb nail.

MJ and Sam sat down as well, MJ trying to keep her focus on the man in front of them rather than the other inmates milling around their table. That guard might have been a jackass, but she had a feeling that his warning had some merit.

"We need to ask you some questions about Trenton Hill." Dean began.

Crantz looked over at him and MJ could tell he was trying to hide his anxiety as he gave him a pissed off look. "My family's attorney is on his way here from Connecticut. I don't think I should say anything until he gets here."

MJ rolled her eyes. So he came from money.

Dean leaned in closer to him. "Look." He began, lowering his voice. "We're here to help you, pal." Crantz looked at them skeptically as Dean continued. "You told the police right after that you didn't remember anything about what happened."

"No." He nearly shouted. "I said I didn't do it. There's a difference."

"Well, then how do you explain that nearly 3,000 people including your coach and teammates watched you do it?" Sam asked.

Crantz turned his hazel eyes on Sam. He looked at him for a long moment before finally answering. "I can't explain it."

"Try." Dean demanded.

Crantz leaned toward them and MJ could see he was desperate for someone to listen to him, to make sense of what had happened. "It was like…like I could feel all this anger and hate and I definitely wanted to kill Trenton, but-" He stopped, shaking his head, like he couldn't find the right words.

"But what?" MJ prompted, on the edge of her seat now.

He swallowed, looking between the three of them, "But it wasn't my anger. It was…inside me, but it wasn't me." He looked back down at the table, a faraway look in his eyes. "It was like I didn't have control of my body. I knew what I was going to do, and it was like I wanted to do it, but I didn't really and then I was skating toward him and I couldn't stop it…I don't remember anything else." He took hold of his head in his hands. "I'm fucking crazy."

"Walton," Sam asked urgently, "Did you see any…black smoke that day or the days before? Smell anything unusual, like sulfur?"

Oh, Sam, always so subtle, MJ thought.

Crantz looked up at Sam like he might belong in this unit with the other whack jobs. "What the hell are you talking about? No."

Sam just looked quickly toward Dean. So it wasn't a demon, then.

Crantz shook his head again, a determined look on his face, like he was going to make sense of this if it killed him. "Everything was totally normal until I came out for that shift. As soon as I left the bench I felt…weird, like I was really cold. Like I could see my breath cold. Then I bent forward to take the face off and bam! Nothing but rage."

MJ was staring at Crantz, a look of sympathy on her face. It must truly suck to think you're losing your mind. After a moment Crantz caught her eye and MJ quickly turned away. Unfortunately when she looked away from him she locked eyes with another inmate, a huge, hulking man with a long, angry looking scar across his left cheek, who was standing against the back wall, staring intently at her, not moving a muscle. He had a strange, relaxed look about him that was truly at odds with his surroundings. MJ couldn't help but stare for a moment, caught off guard by his sheer size. He was easily four inches taller than Sam and definitely much wider. MJ quickly dropped her gaze, staring interestedly at the table. She tried to pay attention to the conversation going on at the table, but could still feel the giant man's eyes on her.

"Walton, do you know Kenneth Raymond or Mitchell Sands?" Sam asked him about the players involved in the other brutal attack.

Crantz leaned forward, kneading his palms into his forehead. He shook his head, his expression rather hopeless.

"Well," Dean began standing up, "Thanks for your time."

MJ followed suit, rising from her chair and falling in line close to Dean's side. Even though she was careful not to look in the direction of the gargantuan man with the scar, she could still feel his gaze following her every movement. It was really creeping her out and she just wanted out of there.

"Walton," Sam said sharply, drawing Crantz' attention. "You are not crazy. I promise."

Crantz just looked up at them forlornly as they made their way toward the door, MJ staring resolutely at Dean's back as she shuffled along between her brothers.

"Where you boys think you're goin' with my nightingale?" a voice drawled to her left, making her jump. She hadn't heard anyone approaching. She turned instinctively toward it. She was face to face – well, face to chest – with the scar man and had to crane her neck upward to see his face. He stood mere inches from her and no longer looked relaxed, but rather desperate and downright pissed. His brow was furrowed and his face turning red, making the ugly scar on his face stand out even more. "Don't ya know she's mine?" He all but hissed, reaching out to touch her face.

Dean and Sam were instantly standing in front of the man, Dean holding MJ behind him, his right arm hooked around her waist, holding her close to his back. MJ didn't even think about protesting, just grabbed hold of his suit jacket and held on for dear life.

"Sir, you need to back away." Sam warned, placing a hand to the man's chest. Dean never took his eyes off of Sam as he moved toward the door shoving MJ along in front of him. MJ watched, horrified, unable to make her feet move toward the door despite wanting nothing more than to be out of this place. Sam was actually dwarfed by this freak of nature and judging from the rage in the man's eyes, Sam was about to get squashed into the cement floor any second.

Dean must have seen it, too because he was reaching for his gun, forgetting that they had to leave all of their weapons upstairs.

"Fuck." Dean spat, looking around as if for an answer. His eyes stopped on the guard, who didn't seem to notice that anything was happening, chin resting in his hand, eyes on the monitors in front of him.

"Guard!" Dean shouted angrily before turning toward MJ and grabbing her forcefully by the upper arm. He yanked her to the door, hand on the crash bar. "Open it! Now!" He demanded, turning back toward the guard.

MJ heard the metallic click that indicated the door could be opened at the exact same moment that the man's giant fist collided with Sam's jaw, sending him sprawling backward onto the floor.

"Sammy!" MJ shrieked. Dean was shoving her out the doorway, but any thought of escaping fled from her mind when she saw the blood pouring from Sam's mouth as he lay on his side on the floor, completely dazed. MJ planted her feet in the doorway and fought with all her might against Dean, trying to get to Sam. She had no rational thought about what she would do when she got there, but as the oversized oaf beared down on him, a crazed look in his eye she feared the worst. "Get off me, Dean!" She ordered, her nails digging into his arms. MJ was so distraught she didn't even see the other inmate- one with long, scraggly black hair and an insane looking grin full of blackened teeth- moving swiftly toward her and Dean. Dean saw him, though.

Desperate to have his sister out of this room and away from these crazed men, Dean's hands went to MJ's shoulders and before she could register what was happening, he had kicked the door wide open behind her and was shoving her backward with all of his might. Shocked, MJ flew backward, through the open doorway and landed, spread eagle on her butt in the now deserted hallway. MJ heard the door click loudly again, sealing her brothers inside the unit. The silence that followed was eerie.

"No!" She screamed, scrambling to her feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in her backside and her now ripped skirt and throwing herself at the door. She pounded on it with both hands uselessly. For once she was grateful for the stupid heels as they boosted her up high enough to look through the tiny window in the door. She reached it in time to see Dean forcing an inmate to the floor face first, his arms pinned behind his back. She could see that Sam was still on the floor and the giant was bent over him, the one guard in the room, trying and failing to pull him away. "Sammy!" MJ pleaded, feeling tears stinging her eyes.

"Move!" Someone shouted in her ear and MJ was once again being tossed backward, this time by the guard who had escorted them down. She stumbled backward, this time staying on her feet, but slamming hard into the wall opposite the door, her skull making a thunking noise as it collided with the cinder blocks. She watched, sort of dazed as the guard manually unlocked the door with a key- clearly something they only did in true emergencies- and ran inside closely followed by two more guards who flew past MJ, not even registering her existence.

When the door opened MJ heard what could only be described as total mayhem for all of five seconds before the last guard in quickly slammed it closed again behind him. Then everything was dead silent. MJ couldn't move. In fact, she couldn't stand anymore. She slid down the wall, one hand rubbing the back of her head while the other pulled her legs close to her chest. She sat there, silent tears beginning to fall down her face as she feared the worst. Something about the look in that guy's eyes made him seem much more dangerous than even the deadly monsters they faced on a daily basis. And Sam had been bleeding so much…MJ just stared at the door, waiting for her brothers to emerge and praying that when they did they were still in one piece.

As the pain in her head eased and everything around her was coming back into focus, the panic built to a level of desperation and MJ got unsteadily to her feet again and threw herself against the metal door that separated her from her brothers. She peered desperately through the little window and whimpered at what she saw. The man had his hands around Sam's throat, squeezing the life out of him. The four guards were beating the man with their clubs which seemed to be having no effect. Dean was screaming something toward the guards as he kneeled on the other inmate who was fighting like crazy to free himself.

MJ felt a fire blaze in the pit of her stomach as she watched her brother being killed. The fire spread, rushing through her arms and spreading to the tips of her fingers. Along with the heat, the fire seemed to be sending pure, liquid rage coursing through her body and as one of the guards finally drew his gun, MJ placed her hand flat against the window. She could feel the fire reach her eyes and as she narrowed them in hatred at the man on top of her brother, she felt herself pushing the fire forward, away from herself. Instantly the giant man stopped, as if shocked. His eyes went wide and his mouth slack and he fell sideways off of Sam, clutching at his chest.

She stayed at the window just long enough to watch Sam slowly sit up, his front spattered in his own blood, coughing violently as he looked over at his would be killer lying perfectly still on the floor beside him. Once she knew Sam was alive MJ rushed away from the window, trying to catch her breath. She had never hyperventilated before, but she was pretty sure that's what was happening. She felt dizzy and lightheaded as the fire inside her subsided, leaving her limbs feeling cool and tingly.

What the hell did I just do? She thought, a new kind of panic rising inside of her.