A/N: Hey! So, I know the updates have been sporadic for a while now, but I'm happy to inform you all that I have some more free time now and intend to use it to write more regularly and get chapters up on a more regular basis. I have every intention of seeing this story through! Anyway, this chapter...DRAMA! Not just any drama, Dean and MJ drama...my favorite kind;) It'll carry over to chapter 8, too. Hope you enjoy and as always thank you so much for reading.

Chapter 7

Dean flipped through the same car magazine for the third time. MJ sat beside him, engrossed in some book. When he flung the magazine back down on the table and sighed heavily, shifting again in his seat, MJ finally looked over at him, unmistakable annoyance in her eyes.

"Dean." She chided. "Why don't you go for a walk or something? I think he's gonna be a while and you're going to drive me nuts soon."

He looked back at her, truly amazed at how she was able to sit so still for so long. She just looked back at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to respond.

He huffed. "It smells like a dentist office in here."

"That's because it is a dentist office." MJ pointed out.

"You know what I mean," Dean said, standing up and pacing the length of the otherwise empty waiting room. "It makes me…antsy."

"Right, which is why you should just go. I'll stay here in case Sam finishes up before you get back." MJ offered.

Dean was shaking his head even as she spoke as he looked at the framed photos lining the walls. "No, thanks. I'm good."

MJ rolled her eyes and went back to her book.

And so it went for the next hour. MJ had at first been relieved when the dentist had come out and told Dean that they'd need to knock Sam out to extract the broken tooth. Being awake for that would've royally sucked, she was sure of it. The downside was that it was taking forever and Dean had the attention span of a toddler.

"Hey." Dean interrupted her reading for the 27th time.

She looked up at him across the room. "Yes?" She asked testily.

"Check it out." Dean said pointing at one of the photos.

MJ reluctantly closed her book and strode toward Dean looking over his shoulder at the photo. It was a picture of a hockey team. The caption told her it was the 20** Ham Lake Hocks. Dean pointed to one of the players in the front row.

"Mitchell Sands." He said before pointing to another. "Trenton Hill."

"The two victims." MJ realized, studying the photo more closely. "This was last year's team. They were league champions." She pointed out. "Maybe that's the connection. Whatever killed them could be going after members of this team."

"Great. So we got a couple dozen guys here who could be next." Dean said, frustrated.

"Yeah, well we got a bigger problem. A lot of these guys don't play here anymore. I've been over the roster for this year's team a few times. Almost half of last year's team was traded or called up. They play all over the country."

"Wonderful." Dean mumbled, looking at the picture again.

MJ shrugged. "Well at least it's a place to start."

"Don't you think it's weird that there's all these hockey photos in a dentist office?" Dean asked scanning the walls.

"No. Look." MJ pointed to another photo near the reception desk. Above the photo was a large sign that read, "Dr. Allen MacGregor: Official Dentist of the Ham Lake Hocks."

Dean chuckled. "I've heard of sponsorship, but an official dentist? That's pushing it."

MJ shrugged. "Makes sense. Hockey players are always breaking their teeth. They probably give him a lot of business."

Dean gave his sister a surprised look, but didn't get a chance to ask her how she seemed to know so much about hockey.

The door to the inner office opened and Sam walked slowly out, a slightly dazed look about him.

Dean and MJ went immediately to him. The technician standing behind him handed some small pieces of paper to Dean. "He did great." She said with a smile. "These are for antibiotics and some pain medication. He should take both when you get home and just rest for the rest of the day.

"Got it. Thanks." Dean said pocketed the prescriptions and placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Okay, ya big baby, let's get you in bed with your favorite teddy, huh?" He teased as they walked out.

Sam just shot him a bitchy look. Neither he nor MJ were fooled by Dean's casual attitude. They knew he was worried about Sam. Though he'd never admit it.

They stopped and filled the prescriptions and grabbed some lunch before heading back to the motel. Still groggy from the anesthesia, Sam got settled on the bed with his milkshake as soon as they got back. MJ got his meds ready and handed them to him.

Dean was just sitting down to eat his lunch when his phone chirped indicating a text message. He flipped it open, reading while he took a bite of his burger. There was a new message from a number he didn't recognize. The first line was a web address, something about "hot pics". The rest of the text read:

Maybe you shoulda thought about the fact that I have these before you called me a pussy. I sent this to the phone you called me from yesterday. Hope it was your brother's and he beats the shit outta you when he sees this. Have a nice day, Princess.

Dean swallowed his burger, which now tasted like cardboard as he closed his phone. He grabbed up Sammy's computer and opened the internet browser, typing in the web address from the text. He steeled himself before pressing enter, not sure what this was about or who it was from. He clicked enter, holding his breath.

Dean's heart stopped beating. His eyes went wide and his jaw clenched. He sat, rigid in his chair, unable to look away from the picture, but wanting nothing more than to unsee it. He blew out a breath, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut.

He closed his eyes, but the image just appeared behind his eye lids.

MJ…in her underwear and bra…laying on a bed…making a face at the camera that would look at home in Hustler Magazine. Dean took a deep breath before opening his eyes and realizing that there was an arrow below the picture, indicating there were more…

The cursor hovered over the arrow for minutes before Dean had worked up the courage to click on it. When he did he felt pain like he didn't know was possible in his chest.

MJ was in her underwear in this one, too, sitting on the bed…no bra or anything else covering her top half.

This time, Dean quickly clicked past this photo, his only thought getting it off the screen. This was clearly not a well thought out plan, and he immediately regretted it when yet another picture came up.

And there it was: his baby sister without a scrap of clothing on her.

Dean quickly slammed the laptop closed, a fire in his gut rising up through his chest, making his face and ears grow crimson and his vision black out for a moment. He gripped the edge of the table, trying to quell the violent shaking in his hands. He couldn't move from his chair, couldn't form a coherent thought. He was lost somewhere between blind fury and debilitating sadness. He felt tears well up in his eyes and blinked a few times to dispel them as he stared ahead of himself, seeing nothing.

"Dean?" MJ asked, looking over at him and growing alarmed at the sight of him. "What's wrong?" She asked.

This seemed to snap Dean out of it. He turned toward her, saw her sitting perched on the side of Sam's bed, looking like she was about to come over to him.

All it took is one look at the innocent, concerned expression on her face and Dean could feel the flood gates open. Could feel the dam finally give and the carefully controlled rage force its way out. He stood abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor. His face must've given away his out of control anger because both Sam and MJ's eyes grew wide as he approached. MJ even flinched when he reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, snatching her up off the bed.

"Dean! What the hell?" She complained as he all but dragged her to the table and shoved her unceremoniously into his vacated seat. She looked up at him confused as he opened the laptop, careful not to look down at the computer as he did, and took hold of her chin, yanking her face around to look at the screen.

She made a strangled sound, somewhere between a shocked gasp and a mortified yelp before quickly slamming the computer closed just as Dean had before her. She stared straight ahead, tears quickly building in her eyes, not daring to look up at Dean.

Dean towered over her, saying nothing.

"What the hell's going on?" Sam asked, sitting up straighter on the bed. His words were slightly slurred and Dean knew the pain pills were already kicking in.

Dean just kept looking down at MJ, his eyes hard, waiting for her to say something. When she stayed quiet, he leaned forward, slamming his fist down on the table. MJ jumped in surprise.

He snatched up his phone off the table and opened the text from earlier, shoving it in MJ's face. "Explain." He seethed, barely opening his mouth.

MJ picked up the phone with a shaking hand, wiping the tears from her eyes as she read it. Her breath hitched with a sob as she closed the phone again and set it down.

"I can't believe he did this." She barely whispered.

"Who?!" Dean shouted down at her, making her jump again. Dean knew he was scaring her and found that he wasn't at all regretful about that.

"Patrick." MJ squeaked, sobbing again.

Dean had already known it was him, but he was going to make her tell him. She was going to tell him all of it.

"Did he take them?" Dean asked, his voice threatening and low. He waited impatiently for her answer his eyes glued to her face. Because if he had taken them…if that low life piece of scum had taken naked photos of his sister…well he was heading straight to Lincoln right now.

MJ shook her head, her eyes carefully averted away from her brother's enraged glare.

"Who took them?" Dean demanded.

When MJ didn't answer immediately, Dean slammed his fist down on the table again. "Who?!"

MJ squeaked in fear. Her response was barely audible. "I did."

Dean wanted to ask why, but honestly he didn't care. Nothing she said, no explanation she manufactured could curb his anger at this point.

"Who did you send them to, besides Patrick?"

MJ finally looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "No one else." She said firmly.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam asked, trying and failing to stand.

Dean ignored him. "Well," He began in a quiet voice. MJ chanced a quick glance up at his face and his expression made her cry even harder. He was glaring down at MJ as if it physically hurt him to have to look at her. Dean just spoke over her loud sobs, not even acknowledging her pain in this. "You may have only sent them to Patrick, but now they're out there for everyone, everyone to see!" He paused, placing his hands palms down on the table in front of her, leaning down over her, his expression nothing short of murderous. "Do you get that, Mary Jane? Every disgusting, dirty old man in the free fucking world is jacking off to naked pictures of you!"

"What?" Sam said in shock, finally able to get to his feet. He was hobbling slowly toward his siblings.

MJ could only cry, fighting to control her breathing, as she leaned forward in her chair, her head bowed, making pitiful, broken sounds.

Dean was relentless as he jabbed a finger at the laptop. "Those will never go away! Do you get that? Your business is out there for everyone to see forever!" Dean gave a humorless chuckle as he straightened up and took a step away from her, running a hand over his face. "Not to mention that if the right people find out about this, your ass is back in foster care!" He turned back toward her, watching her nearly hyperventilate with the force of her crying, but showing no mercy. "How could you do something so fucking stupid?!"

"Dean, that's enough." Sam said weakly, standing beside MJ. "Go cool off." Sam tried to inject some authority into his order, but even to himself he just sounded exhausted.

Sam placed a hand on MJ's back, trying to comfort her.

Dean watched them silently for a minute, still reeling. He wanted to continue his rant, even though it was doing nothing to make him feel any better.

He grabbed his jacket off of the bed and walked swiftly toward the door.

"Don't come back until you've calmed down." Sam commanded.

Dean stopped at Sam's instruction, his hand on the knob. He turned back toward them, raised his voice to be heard over MJ's now hysterical crying.

His expression was ashamed and revolted as he looked back at his siblings. "I'm just glad Dad's not here to see this." MJ's head jerked up and she looked over at him stunned into silence. MJ thought she might die right then just seeing that look on her brother's face and knowing it was meant for her. Dean went for the kill. He shook his head, "He'd be disgusted with you." He barked out before slamming the door behind him.

Dean didn't return to the motel room until he was good and drunk. Well, he was beyond drunk really. He was past the point of feeling a God damn thing, which of course had been the goal since he walked out of the motel room that afternoon.

He had found a dive bar and sat there, downing whiskey shots, alternating them with beers, wondering how many it would take to wipe away the images from the photos…

He didn't find the answer. He was 9 shots and 8 beers in when the bartender cut him off and he stumbled outside and puked in the parking lot. He staggered to a still open liquor store, buying the cheapest bottle of crap whiskey they had and wandered the streets of the small town, making short work of the liquor.

The guilt and regret he knew would come made its appearance at some point and he found himself crying freely as he walked. Luckily he didn't encounter anyone in his heavily inebriated and miserable state. He knew he'd land himself in jail or the hospital if he stayed out, so he reluctantly trudged back to the motel. He paused outside the door, not ready to go in yet. Instead he pulled out his cell phone. It took three tries for Dean to find the right number and press send.

"Hello?"

Dean said nothing. He wasn't sure if it was just that he was highly intoxicated, but her voice was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard.

"Hello?" Jenna asked again, slightly agitated.

Oh, right, I gotta say something, Dean realized.

"Hey." He settled on, as he not so gracefully plopped himself down on the curb, taking another swig from his bottle.

"Dean?" Her voice became more urgent now. "What's wrong?"

And Dean knew she knew it was bad. She could tell from that one word.

"What, I can't just call a pretty girl to talk?" Dean knew he was way past being capable of charming, but it was instinct for him to try.

"Well, it's 4 AM here, I'm assuming you're in the continental US so it's at least 1 AM where you are. And you're clearly plastered." She accused.

"Ya think so?" He tried for a light, playful tone.

"Dean." She snapped, in a stern voice. "What's wrong?"

It wasn't a question as much as a demand for him to cut the bullshit and start talking.

Dean sniffled and cleared his throat, determined not to let her know he was crying.

"I'm no good at this." He admitted, so much sadness in his voice that Jenna felt her heart break. She wished she was there with him right now, could comfort him.

"Is MJ okay?" She asked softly.

Dean nodded, then remembered she couldn't see him. "Yeah. She's alive." He replied, taking another drink. "That's about all I can manage these days." He added sardonically.

"What happened?"

Dean didn't answer right away, but ever the patient one, Jenna just waited.

Finally Dean took another drink and cleared his throat. "She fucked a twenty two year old man then sent him naked pictures of herself. And being the standup guy that this joker is he posted them on the internet." Dean spilled, all in one breath.

Jenna was silent for a moment. "Oh, MJ." She finally whispered.

"Yup. That's my sister. All class." Dean quipped, taking another drink. "I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all." Even as he said it he knew it was just anger talking. He knew MJ wasn't really like Wendy. Not in the ways that really mattered.

"Dean." Jenna said sharply. "She's a kid. She's not the first teenage girl to get duped by a guy. Girls like MJ are easy targets. Think about it, Dean. She's never had any positive attention from a man before you. She's a predator's dream come true: an insecure kid with unresolved Daddy issues."

"You don't know anything about my father." Dean spat, sudden anger swelling inside him. "He did the best he could."

"Dean, I didn't mean any disrespect. I only meant that your father was gone more than he was around and that left MJ without a consistent male role model."

"Don't you make my father out to be a dead beat dad! He was a God damn hero, ya got that?!" Dean shouted.

Jenna waited a beat before responding. "Okay, you're drunk, and you're starting to piss me off." She said evenly.

"You're starting to piss me off." Dean retorted lamely, far too drunk for his brain to come up with anything else.

"You called me." Jenna pointed out calmly.

There was a lengthy pause before Dean finally mumbled "Bad idea," before closing the phone, ending the call.

He stood, wobbling on the spot for a moment before stumbling back toward the room. He paused outside the door, draining the bottle of whiskey before tossing it into the parking lot where it smashed against the asphalt.

Dean didn't turn on the light when he entered the room. He just collapsed on the bed closest to the door, not bothering to even glance at the other bed, to check on his siblings. He was asleep as soon as his body hit the lumpy mattress.

He wouldn't remember this detail in the morning. He'd remember the photos and the fight with MJ. He'd remember the phone call. He'd certainly remember all the liquor. But he wouldn't remember that last night, for the first time in his life, he didn't ensure his younger siblings were safe in their beds before turning in.

MJ woke to the sound of Dean snoring loudly from the other bed. She slowly opened her eyes and could feel that they were red and puffy from crying herself to sleep the night before. Well…the afternoon before was more accurate. Dean had left, tearing out her heart before he went, sometime after noon. She had cried hysterically, Sam holding her, for what seemed like hours before he finally couldn't stay awake any longer and gave in to the pain meds and the leftover anesthesia in his system. MJ drifted off soon after, wrapped in his arms.

MJ rolled over realizing that Sam was no longer in bed. She had no clue what time it was, but heard the bathroom sink running. She rolled back and stole a glance at Dean. He was lying on his stomach, fully clothed, leather jacket, shoes and all and drooling on his pillow. Judging from his appearance he'd been drinking all night. A lot.

MJ grimaced as the events of yesterday came flooding back. She ran a hand through her hair, getting up and forcing herself to get ready for the day. She still had the sick, devastated feeling in the pit of her stomach and she wondered idly if it would be permanent as she brushed out her tangled hair. She wasn't even angry. She didn't have enough energy to be mad. The hurt left no room for any other emotion. It consumed her.

She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, relieved it was finally long enough again to wear back. She thought about Carrie cursing her, making her hair fall out in patches, and wondered if she was supposed to want that kind of justice for herself. Was she supposed to want to make Patrick pay? Should she be obsessed with revenge like James Wettering had been after he died outside his girlfriend's apartment?

No, she couldn't muster up that kind of passion…for anything right now. All she felt was sad. Sad that Patrick had betrayed her. Sad that she'd really cared about him and he obviously hadn't felt the same way. And sad that Dean was right: she couldn't take this back. Ever.

She quickly got dressed, unable to stop the image of Dean's face just before he walked out the door from floating across her mind. She felt her heart break a little bit more.