A/N: I know you waited far too long for this. I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of you continuing to read this story. You're all super amazing! A special thanks to Mayrem for giving me that little nudge I needed to get this posted:) Enjoy!

Chapter 6

MJ slid back down the wall, her breathing shallow and erratic and her mind reeling. Her eyes were darting around the deserted hallway as if looking for something that could make sense of what had transpired. Had she just…killed a man…with her mind? She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the image of the man falling to his side, completely still, to go away. But it didn't. It played over and over behind her eyelids. She could barely form a coherent thought and so just sat there dazed, knees drawn up to her chest, head in her hands and tears streaming silently down her face.

That was how her brothers found her when the door to the unit finally opened again and they stumbled out, Dean awkwardly supporting Sam's weight as Sam held a towel to his bleeding mouth.

Dean looked down at her, concerned as Sam hobbled along beside him.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked, leaning Sam against the wall and squatting down in front of MJ to check her over. His eyes grew wide in alarm at the state of her. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. MJ." He took hold of her chin in his hand, looking her in the eye. "Breathe. Sam's fine. Everybody's fine. It's okay." He stood, pulling her to her feet. "Come on, let's get outta here."

Sam was standing upright and while he was wobbly was able to walk under his own power. Dean swept MJ along, just wanting out of this place as fast as possible. MJ allowed herself to be pulled along, back down the hallway and up to the first level, led by the same miserable corrections officer who brought them down. He was even more ornery now if that was possible. He was mumbling under his breath about feds being nothing but trouble and how much paperwork there would be as a result of the disturbance they'd caused. He even went as far as to comment that this was precisely why the likes of MJ shouldn't be allowed to wear a badge. Had Dean not been so focused on getting them the hell out he likely would've drilled the guy in the face just to get him to shut up.

Once re-armed and outside of the building, MJ pulled away from Dean and walked beside her brothers the rest of the way to the car. Her breathing was nearly back to normal as she slid into the backseat, and sat there rigidly, facing forward, her eyes staring straight ahead and seeing nothing. Dean and Sam got into the front, the doors snapping closed behind them. Dean turned to look over his shoulder at MJ.

"You gonna make it?" He asked. Sam turned, too, his mouth no longer bleeding, but the towel stained red in his hands.

MJ didn't look at either of them, still staring at nothing. "Did that guy die?" She asked breathlessly.

Dean glanced at Sam, his brow furrowed in question. Sam just shrugged, unsure of why MJ seemed so freaked out.

"The brute? No, I don't know what happened. It was like he was…shocked or something and he just rolled off Sammy and laid there, dazed." Dean just looked at her a minute, confused. She'd seen people die before, and this guy had been about to kill Sammy, so why was she so worried about his well-being?

"MJ, what's wrong? What are you afraid of?"

MJ finally blinked, looking at Dean like she hadn't even known he was there.

"Nothing, I'm fine." She finally said, before leaning back in the seat and crossing her arms over her chest.

Dean turned around in his seat, shaking his head. "Okay." He drawled, wondering what in the hell was going on. MJ's expression was troubled as she stared out the window until they reached the motel. Dean glanced back at her a few times, but had a bigger problem to focus on right now: Sam's face. His lip needed stitching and he was pretty sure he'd broken a tooth. Depending on how bad it was Dean might have to pull it. That troubling possibility at the forefront of his mind, Dean pulled the Impala into a spot in front of their motel room.

They filed inside, MJ heading straight into the bathroom without a word to either brother. She locked the door behind her, sitting on the edge of the tub and closing her eyes. She breathed in and out, trying in vain to calm herself down. She tried to think through what exactly had happened, tried to make some kind of sense of it so she could begin to process it, but her head hurt from where it had banged against the cement wall. She rubbed her hand over her hair, feeling the bump rising at the back of her head. Great. She balled her hands into fists, forcing out a sigh. Concentrate, she scolded herself. She had done something. She'd been pissed…desperate. She'd thought Sammy was going to die so she had…what? Shocked the guy with her mind like a human stun gun? It seemed so ridiculous. She looked down at her hands now, examining them closely. She had felt something. Like a fire inside her. She had felt it…explode from her fingertips at exactly the same time the guy had suddenly released Sam as if he'd been hit with a taser.

After several minutes of staring uselessly down at her fingers, she heaved a defeated sigh and lowered her head into her hands. Whatever had happened to her…whatever she'd done back there, she couldn't tell Sam and Dean about it. For one thing, this wasn't some benign visions. She could hurt people with her mind. She knew how they would react to this. Sam would try to understand, try to help her, all the while secretly worrying about what this meant and what she was really capable of. Dean on the other hand would be flat out furious and want to lock her up until they could figure it out. This was way off the charts of normal, even by their standards. This made her not…human. And while she knew Sam and Dean had to suspect that John wasn't her father, this would confirm beyond a doubt that she was the demon's child. That was something she had no intentions of bringing to Sam and Dean's attention. It broke her heart to know they weren't her brothers. If they knew that for sure, they'd look at her differently. Treat her differently, and she wouldn't survive that. Dean may be an ass, but he and Sam were the only two people she had left in this world she could count on.

MJ had no idea how long she sat like that. A sharp rap on the door made her jump and look up.

"MJ? You almost done? I wanna shower." Dean asked through the door.

MJ stood and pulled the door open trying to look calm and not scared shitless as she walked past Dean.

She felt his eyes on her as she walked to her duffel, pulling what little hair still remained in her bun loose and letting it fall down her back.

"You okay?" Dean tried again, although he didn't sound too hopeful he'd get a response this time.

MJ nodded silently as she shrugged out of her suit jacket. She heard the bathroom door snap closed behind her. Dean was annoyed. Something new and different, she thought sarcastically. She glanced over at the bed where Sam was out cold, still in his suit pants and white undershirt, both were flecked with blood. His lip was swollen and the deep cut newly stitched. He looked pale and just plain exhausted. She changed clothes as quietly as possible, hoping Sam would get some much needed sleep.

Once she had changed into a pair of boxers and one of Dean's old Black Sabbath t-shirts she sat down on the edge of the unoccupied bed and nervously chewed her finger nails. Her mind was spinning with troublesome questions and horrifying possibilities. Her leg jumped up and down as she scanned the room for something to distract her. Her eyes landed on Dean's leather jacket, tossed over the back of the desk chair. Her leg stilled as she glanced over toward the closed bathroom door. She could hear the shower running inside. Her eyes darted to Sam who was still fast asleep. Without further hesitation, she padded across the room and began rifling through the pockets of the coat. She had found Dean's phone and put it back, continuing her search for her own confiscated cell. Sam mumbled behind her and she froze, slowly turning her head to see if he'd woken. He shifted on the bed, his eyes remaining closed and his breathing even. MJ knew she didn't have much time before Dean was done in the shower and decided Dean's phone would have to do. She snagged it from its pocket once again and soundlessly walked out the motel room door. Once outside MJ walked around the corner from their room and stood barefoot beside the soda machine, flipping the phone open and dialing the familiar number. It rang twice.

"Hello?"

MJ felt relief sweep over her. "Oh, it's so good to hear your voice." She breathed out with a sigh.

There was a short pause. "MJ?" Patrick asked in a strangled voice. "Are you okay? I called you like twenty times you never picked up. I didn't know what happened to you. I was this close to driving back to Sioux Falls, but I was afraid your brother would kill me this time." Patrick was talking so fast MJ could barely make out the words.

"I'm fine. Dean took my cell phone right after you left. Patrick, I'm so sorry. What did he do to you?" MJ asked, true concern lacing her words.

Patrick scoffed angrily. "He broke my nose, busted my lip open…I got bruises on my side from where he kicked me with those God damn boots." He seethed. "Not to mention it cost me two hundred bucks to buy a new phone."

MJ shook her head. "I really am sorry." She didn't know what else to say. She was secretly surprised that Patrick had gotten off that easy, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"What'd he do to you?" Patrick asked. His voice was full of curiosity.

"Well like I said he took my phone," MJ paused shrugging as she examined her now destroyed nails. "Other than that nothing really, except being my shadow twenty-four seven."

There was another pause on Patrick's end. "That's it?" He asked skeptically.

"Yeah, that's it. Why?" MJ wasn't following Patrick's line of questioning here. She was anxious to move past this and just shoot the shit like they used to. To hear him tell one of his cheesy jokes that always made her giggle and feel a little bit better.

Patrick gave a short, un-amused laugh. "He didn't hit you?" He asked, clearly already making his own assumptions about it.

It was MJ's turn to laugh now. "No he didn't hit me. Dean's never laid a hand on me in my life." MJ argued, immediately on the defensive.

"You expect me to believe that?" Patrick practically shouted. "After that first night, he dragged you out of my apartment by your arm and almost punched you!"

MJ was shaking her head, her face reddening in anger. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go. "He never would've hit me. He was angry, but he didn't hurt me, Patrick. He's just…he's not even capable of hurting me."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Patrick yelled into the phone. "The guy held a gun to my head, MJ. He's a fucking lunatic. He's capable of anything!"

"You're wrong." MJ said simply, still shaking her head.

"Why are you defending him?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because he's my brother!" MJ shouted. She could feel the sting of tears in her eyes.

"Alright, look," Patrick began in a much calmer voice. "Let's not argue. I'm glad you called." He paused, taking a deep breath. "How soon can you get away?" Patrick asked.

This caught MJ off guard. "What do you mean?"

"When can you leave? I can meet you somewhere and pick you up. You can stay with me as long as you need to." He paused. "Longer if you want." He added and she could hear the smile in his voice.

MJ took a deep breath. "Patrick." She said quietly. "I'm not leaving."

This was met with a long pause. MJ was sure he'd hung up when he finally spoke, the smile clearly gone from his voice. "You're kidding right?" He asked in disbelief.

"I can't just…leave my family. Just like that." It surprised MJ a little, that even after all the times she had considered leaving and with how angry she was with Dean right now, that she was telling the God's honest truth. She couldn't leave. She just…couldn't.

"Your brother tried to kill me!" Patrick argued. "How can you even consider staying?"

"Patrick, I'm sorry he did that, but I can't just leave them. I mean, my father just…it's just…I can't. Besides, Dean would find me wherever I went, anyway."

"Look." Patrick paused, taking a deep breath. "Don't make any decisions right now. Just think about it for a couple days. Do you think you'll be able to get away again? Get to a phone?"

MJ's stomach turned. He was talking like she was in danger. Like she was being held against her will and needed to escape. "Patrick, I don't need time to think about it. I'm not leaving." She said with certainty.

There was another pause, during which she heard him exhale loudly.

"So that's it, huh?" He spat with such anger in his voice it startled MJ. She'd never heard him talk like that before. When she made no response he continued, in the same furious tone. "Your family is so fucked up, it's sad that you think that's normal. Don't bother calling or texting me ever again, got it?" He didn't wait for a response. "Have a nice life, MJ." He bit out, before abruptly hanging the phone up.

MJ held the phone in front of her, gaping at it. She couldn't believe him. How could he think she was going to run away with him? And then to accuse her of being a liar and her brothers of being crazy and abusive?

Hell, no, she thought, furiously redialing his number with shaky fingers. She held the phone to her ear, fuming, not even sure what she was going to say. The call went to voicemail.

"You can go to hell, you self-absorbed prick! How dare you judge me and my family? You don't know me or my brothers. You're just pissed that you got jacked up and ran away crying like a bitch. No wonder you can't get girls your own age to date you. Pussy."

Before she'd even flipped the phone shut she was regretting it. That had been harsh and unnecessary. Feeling even worse than she had before she'd made the call, MJ shuffled back toward the motel room, wiping the tears from her eyes as she went. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. She really didn't need her brothers grilling her anymore today. She held the phone behind her back as she slowly pushed the door open and peeked inside. The shower was no longer running, but the bathroom door was still closed and Dean was nowhere in sight. Sam was softly snoring on the bed.

MJ pushed the door closed as quietly as possible and went to Dean's jacket, replacing the phone. She decided to take one more stab at locating her own phone while she was at it. She reached into the inside breast pocket of the coat and her fingers closed around the phone. She pulled it out, not feeling quite as victorious as she thought she might. A folded piece of paper fell from the pocket to the floor. MJ bent to quickly retrieve it when the words "Paternity" and "lab screening" caught her eye. She unfolded the paper, glancing at the bathroom door before looking down again. It was confusing to read, but from what she could gather, two samples had been tested and they matched, which meant that whoever the DNA came from were father and child. What it didn't say was who the two people in question were…

MJ's face grew warm and her stomach lurched. Of course. Dean must've gotten the demon's DNA somehow and compared it with hers. So he already knew she wasn't his sister. She'd been so stupid to think he'd never find out. Dean obviously knew the demon claimed she was his. Why else would it kidnap her? And of course, he'd want to be sure. Get proof. She wondered idly how long he'd known for as she fell into the desk chair, her forgotten cell phone clutched in one hand and the paternity test results clutched in the other. She stared down at them for several minutes, not really seeing the words anymore, more tears blurring her vision.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom, wearing just his jeans, toweling off his chest as he strode toward his brother. He glanced at MJ who was sitting in the desk chair reading something before he looked down at Sam who was sound asleep. Dean wasn't surprised. He'd given him some serious painkillers. His tooth was broken alright. And Dean couldn't pull it, so they'd need a dentist. Trouble was it was after 6 when they got back to the motel and no dentists were open at this hour. It would have to wait until tomorrow.

Dean turned and grabbed his bag off the floor, rummaging through it for a clean shirt. He turned back toward MJ, whose back was to him.

"Wanna go grab some dinner? Sam's gonna be conked out the rest of the night." When MJ didn't answer, or even acknowledge that she'd heard him, Dean tossed down his duffel bag and made his way toward her, trying to reign in his anger. "Alright, that's it. I know you're pissed at me, but this silent treatment? It ends now. You hear me?" He asked as he drew level with her.

She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with unshed tears and his anger instantly dissolved, replaced with concern and fierce protectiveness. He was about to ask her what was wrong when he realized what it was she was reading. He stared at the piece of paper wide eyed for a moment before looking back up at her face. She was looking at him now and she looked furious.

"How long have you known about this?" She demanded, wiping at her eyes.

Dean just looked back at her for a moment, wondering how to answer that question without starting Word War III. "Since Dad died." He answered honestly, not sure there was any way to soften the blow.

MJ stood, facing him. "Why didn't you tell me?" Dean could hear the hurt and betrayal clearly in her voice.

Dean rushed to explain. "I didn't want you to think that anybody was questioning you being our sister. That's not what this was about. It's just…all the crap the demon was spewing, Dad had to be sure."

"Dad?" MJ asked, confused. "Dad did this?"

Dean gave her a weird look. "Well, yeah."

"So you've known for months? When were you going to tell me? What were you waiting for me to sprout horns and start killing people?"

Dean shook his head, not following her logic at all. "What are you talking about?"

MJ turned away taking a few steps away from him before turning back to face him and answering. "You've known for four months that I'm half fucking demon and you just weren't going to tell me?!"

Dean held his hands up, palms toward her. "Whoa." He said taking a step in her direction. "Mary Jane. Dad didn't test the demon's DNA. He tested his own." Dean pointed to the piece of paper, still clutched in MJ's fist, hanging at her side. "That paper proves that you are a Winchester."

MJ stared up at her brother for a moment, her expression confused. She moved to the unoccupied bed and sat on the edge of it, rereading the paper. Dean sat down next to her, silently waiting for her to take it all in.

When she finally looked up, the anger and shock were gone. Now she just looked exhausted. "Why wouldn't you tell me about this?" She asked waving the paper toward her brother.

Dean shrugged. "I didn't know you were even questioning that Dad was your father. That you had any idea that there was another possibility."

"Dean, a demon kidnapped me and said I belonged to him. Of course I was questioning it. How stupid do you think I am?"

Dean frowned down at her. "I don't think you're stupid."

MJ's expression darkened, like she'd just remembered something. "Well then how do you explain the weird…abilities? And why the hell would that demon say he was my father if he's not?"

Dean exhaled loudly. "We think that maybe Dad was possessed when…you were conceived. He was drunk and he doesn't remember it." Dean said somewhat awkwardly, not looking his sister in the eye. "So that gave the demon some kind of connection to you."

MJ made no response, just staring down at the piece of paper in her hand.

Dean studied her expression carefully. Under the tears and confusion he saw a little glimmer of relief. Something dawned on him.

"Wait a minute. So you thought that demon was your father and you didn't say anything? You just kept it to yourself?"

MJ shrugged. "What was I gonna say? 'Hey guys, good hunt. By the way, thanks for taking care of me, but I'm not really your sister.'?" MJ joked humorlessly before dropping her eyes back down to stare at the test results.

"Hey." Dean said sternly, reaching out and taking hold of MJ's chin with one hand, pulling her face up so she was looking at him. "Don't you ever say that. You're our sister. No matter what some lousy piece of paper says." There was real anger in his voice and fire in his eyes. "We're family. Nothing changes that. Got it?" He waited, not relinquishing his hold on her.

"Yeah." She answered finally, managing a small smile.

"Good." Dean said, finally lowering his hand and holding it out, palm up in front of her. "Now give me the cell phone." There were the beginnings of a smirk on his face as he waited.

MJ rolled her eyes and placed the phone in his waiting hand without argument. She scoffed as she shoved him a little and stood. "Now put a shirt on before I vomit." She managed another tiny smile before she turned away from her brother. Her stomach was still in knots, her mind was still racing and she was still scared shitless about whatever had happened at the jail. But she felt a little bit hopeful that she would figure it out, that things would be okay. At least she knew who she really was now. Well…sort of.