A/N: And the drama continues! Thanks so much for reading:)

Chapter 8

Sam emerged from the bathroom just as MJ was lacing up her sneakers. She glanced up at him, her face set in a look of true devastation. He smiled back at her in what he hoped was a reassuring way as he crossed the room and busied himself with sorting through the clothes in his duffel while he covertly watched his sister. She absently fiddled with the strings of her hooded sweatshirt as she sat at the little table, looking out the window. Her eyebrows were knit together and her eyes were still red and puffy from her long afternoon of crying the day before. Sam was pretty pissed at himself for not being able to stay awake longer. He had fallen asleep while she was still shaking with harsh sobs. He felt much better this morning. His mouth was sore, but nothing he couldn't handle. He wasn't taking any more of those pills. Not when things were so tense between Dean and MJ.

Sam zipped up his duffel, sneaking another look at his sister as he strode to the vacant bed and put on his boots. He thought back to what had happened before he made Dean leave. He swallowed, fighting back the anger that swelled in him when he thought about what Patrick had done. One brother exploding was enough. He would be calm and rational for her. Man, Dean was being really fucking stupid about this, he thought. His brother's anger was horribly misplaced. Yes, he was disappointed in MJ, too. But that was so not the priority here. The priority was castrating Patrick. And the fact that Dean had blown up at MJ and not taken off for Lincoln the minute he found out baffled Sam. Sure, Dean had come down hard on her in the past, but only as an afterthought to making whoever had hurt her bleed. And her fault in the incident had never been a factor in Dean's decision to punish the guilty party. Sam guessed that it was the shock of seeing…what he'd seen that had made Dean react so harshly. He wanted to cut his brother a break, after all, Sam hadn't seen the photos – nor did he have any intention of ever seeing them – so he couldn't say how he'd have reacted if he were in Dean's shoes.

Sam watched his older brother for a moment, passed out on the bed, snoring loudly. He hoped that Dean had gotten it out of his system. That he could be more level headed about it all today. Because Sam could respect that Dean was upset, but he wouldn't stand idly by while someone berated and belittled his sister, even if that someone was Dean.

Sam stood, stretching as he groaned loudly. MJ looked over at him and he forced a smile.

"How about some breakfast?"

Dean woke with a start, nearly falling out of the bed. He quickly scanned the room, wondering what had brought him so quickly to the surface. He almost immediately felt the room begin to spin and sat up, which only made him feel that much sicker. He barely registered that he was alone in the room before he bolted from the bed and to the bathroom, making it just in time. After violently retching for five minutes he sat there on the bathroom floor, back against the tub, sore head in his hands. Unbidden, thoughts of yesterday forced their way to the forefront of his mind, making him feel nauseous all over again. God, he had been so angry. Hell, he was still angry, still frustrated with MJ. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying and failing to rationalize his reaction to the pictures. After a few more attempts at putting together an argument in his defense, Dean gave up and got slowly to his feet, turning on the shower as hot as it would go.

He stood there, under the stream for several minutes, breathing in the steam. He knew what it came down to. MJ had acted recklessly. Foolishly, no doubt. But she didn't shoulder the blame for this. No, the fault belonged to the adults in her life. The people who were supposed to keep her safe. The blame was on Dean. And Sam. It was on Wendy and every piece of shit drug dealer who Wendy had sold her daughter to. MJ had been failed by all of them. Not least of all, Dean thought bitterly, by her father. Dean didn't recall exactly what he'd said to Jenna on the phone the night before. He knew it had been shitty and unfair and that he needed to apologize for it. His words might not have stuck with him, but he knew it was his sense of duty to defend his father's reputation that had driven him to it. Maybe she'd struck a nerve in him because on some level he knew she was right. That John was at least partially responsible for MJ's self-destructive behavior.

Dean knew from experience that they could play the blame game all day and get nowhere. The fact of the matter was that MJ was a vulnerable child. A naïve teenager who had been seeking the attention that Patrick was happy to give her. Dean felt anger boil up in his stomach again. Patrick had preyed on his sister. Right from the beginning. MJ's only crime here was trusting the guy.

When the hot water ran out, Dean finally stepped out of the shower, wrapping himself in a towel. As he searched his bag for semi-clean clothes he thought about what Jenna had told him when he'd gone to visit her in Georgia. It made even less sense now. MJ, the girl who'd been duped by an older man, who had cried hysterically and clearly felt real pain over being hurt by someone she'd cared about, was capable of becoming a soulless killer? Of leading some kind of demon army and killing countless humans? No. It just didn't make sense. He thought about his final conversation with his father. Had Dad seen something in MJ that Dean just wasn't willing to see? Some kind of dark or evil tendencies? Dean couldn't figure out why else John would feel the need to warn Dean about her. Unless the demon or someone else had shown John what he had shown Jenna. Dena swallowed hard. He hadn't seen it, but he knew it had been awful based on Jenna's reaction to it. She had been deeply disturbed by what she had seen MJ become in the demon's plans.

Dean dressed slowly, his head pounding and his stomach threatening to turn on him again. He needed coffee; he thought as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. Yeah, coffee will really solve it all, he thought sarcastically. He knew what he really needed was a fucking break. He felt like he was being pulled in six different directions at once: find the yellow eyed demon, save everyone from whatever evil son of a bitch they were tracking this week, keep MJ and Sam safe, oh, but watch out for both of them 'cause they ain't normal…he shook his head, discouraged as he got into the Impala. He wanted to blame the liquor for his scattered thoughts, but he knew it was just another day in the life of the Winchesters. Shit, couldn't it ever just be easy?

When she was younger it had been simple. When they'd visited Dean had found that he fell easily into the big brother role. It came naturally to him, most likely from years of taking care of Sammy. During their visits Dean would help her with her homework. Comfort her when she was scared. If she screwed up, did something dangerous he'd yell at her. Set her straight. If someone messed with her they got demolished and that was it. Right and wrong. No gray areas. She had been undoubtedly innocent and childish and Dean had found it uncomplicated and satisfying to take care of her.

As he drove his mind wandered back to their very last visit. MJ was a freshman in high school. The dork had actually skipped a grade somewhere along the way and so she was thirteen and in the ninth grade. Dean was proud of her, but he'd also been worried. She was younger than all the other kids and small for her age besides. He felt like she would be an easy victim for some mean spirited older kids. Especially the girls. Girls could be vicious. He kept his concern over the situation to himself, though, knowing that his father wouldn't entertain the conversation and that Wendy wouldn't care anyway. So when they got that call that MJ had gotten into a fight, Dean wasn't surprised at all. He was sure he knew exactly what had transpired: Some group of bitchy girls had teased her and she'd lashed out on them. He figured he'd have to argue with his dad and Wendy to move her back to a school with kids her own age. What greeted Dean at the school though had not been what he'd expected.

**Flashback**

Dean idly wondered how badly MJ had hurt the girl she'd gotten into a fight with as he climbed the steps into the school. The message his father relayed to him was that MJ had beaten someone up and was being suspended. He knew his sister wouldn't fight unless provoked, so he would play the disciplinarian in front of the principal, but he wouldn't really punish MJ. In fact no one would be punishing her if Dean had any say in it.

Dean entered the office and approached the receptionist who was on the phone at the moment. She looked up at Dean as he drew level with her desk and he gave his best smile, making her stumble over her words and blush a little. Dean was thinking about turning up the charm with this one…she was cute and hell, maybe it could win MJ some points to get her outta trouble. Dean stepped to the side waiting patiently for her to finish her phone call. That's when he heard the sounds of shouting coming from within the office behind the woman. The plaque on the wooden door told him it was the principal's office. The shouting was one sided, so someone was getting lectured…actually more like reamed out based on the volume and anger in the man's voice. Dean couldn't make out every word, but the speech seemed to be focused on responsibility and self-control and Dean's stomach gave a little twinge as two questions popped into his head: Was MJ in that room and if she was, just how bad had she hurt the other girl to rile this guy up that much?

Just then the woman behind the desk ended her call and looked up at Dean with a huge smile.

"How can I help you?" She asked sweetly.

"I'm here to pick up Mary Jane Hanson. I'm her brother, Dean Winchester."

The woman's smile faltered as she looked behind her at the principal's door and Dean's suspicion was confirmed. She turned back, the smile once again in place. "She's in with Mr. Washington right now. I'll let him know you're here."

Dean flexed his fingers, trying not to get worked up as the woman picked up the phone again. It wouldn't do for him to lose his shit on the principal. MJ would still be in trouble and might take even more shit because of it in the future. Plus his father would be pissed. Dean knew all of this and tried to remain calm. After all, he didn't know the circumstances of what went down. Still, for a grown man to scream at a barely teenage girl like that…

There was a distinct pause in the man's tirade when the receptionist called back to let him know Dean was there. Dean heard him bellow something in response before the woman hung up.

"You can go in now." She said, and her smile was more apologetic than flirtatious now.

Dean nodded his thanks before pushing the door open and stepping inside the office. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on MJ, slouched in a chair in front of the desk. Her head was down, her face hidden by a curtain of red, curly hair. His gaze then shifted to the man sitting behind the desk. He went 6 foot 5 easy and was built like a linebacker. He looked to be in his mid-forties and right now, his face was twisted in anger and his eyes were livid as he looked down on MJ from where he sat across the desk from her. He didn't acknowledge Dean's presence and continued his verbal onslaught as if he hadn't been interrupted. His hands were clasped in front of him, and Dean could see his knuckles were white with the effort of maintaining his composure.

Dean moved immediately to MJ's side, standing to her left, his hand brushing her shoulder and just looked down at the man, waiting for him to can the lecture and tell Dean what the hell was going on.

"There's no room for hatred or violence in this school and if that is how you plan to go through life – conducting yourself like a Neanderthal then your future is going to be awfully bleak!" He paused, shaking his head in disgust. "How do you intend to be a productive member of society if you can't control yourself and conduct yourself like a human being?" He was shouting so loudly MJ actually jolted slightly in her chair.

Dean had heard quite enough and stuck his hand out toward the man, interrupting him.

"Dean Winchester." He said loudly. Mr. Washington looked up, surprised and a little irritated, but after a few seconds stood and shook Dean's hand. "I'm Mary Jane's brother." He continued, fake smile in place.

"Gregory Washington. Principal." The man responded before indicating the seat next to MJ.

Dean discretely edged the chair closer to his sister before sitting down beside her. She still didn't look up and Dean noticed her knuckles were also white from how hard she was gripping the arms of the chair.

Dean looked back up at the principal who was scowling at MJ like she was the scum of the earth. "What seems to be the problem?" Dean asked with forced calm.

The principal considered Dean for a moment. He didn't seem to think much of him based on the contemptuous look on his face when he eyed him, but Dean could care less what this prick thought of him. The man's eyes narrowed and moved to MJ.

"Young lady," he snapped at her, making her jump again, "tell your brother what you did."

MJ didn't look up and her voice was quiet like she was holding back what she really wanted to say. "I got in a fight." She said slowly.

The principal unclasped his hands and jabbed a thick finger at MJ, leaning over the desk. "You brutally attacked another student after I explicitly instructed you to go back to class! That is blatant insubordination and quite frankly criminal assault young lady! You'll be lucky not to do jail time after this! To think that-"

"Whoa." Dean held both hands up, palms toward Mr. Washington. "That is enough." He commanded loudly, having to shout to be heard over the other man's voice.

Mr. Washington paused, clearly shocked at the interruption, eyes back on Dean.

"No disrespect, mister, but you need to lower your voice and calm down."

Before he had a chance to respond, Dean continued, turning toward MJ.

"Mary Jane." He said, his voice firm but quiet. "What happened?"

There was a pause before MJ began speaking, still not looking up. "Somebody was getting picked on so I stood up for her and ended up getting in a fight." Dean heard her voice hitch as she spoke.

"Don't you make yourself out to be some kind of hero! Another student is at the hospital right now because of you!"

Dean threw a warning glance at the man, but said nothing. Mr. Washington just glared back at him, as if daring him to try and silence him. Dean placed a hand on MJ's shoulder. "MJ, look at me." He said gently. He was unsettled by not being able to see her face when she spoke.

Slowly, hesitantly, MJ raised her head, turning her face toward Dean just slightly. Her hair still blocked most of her face, but Dean could see tears sliding silently down her cheeks. Despite the curtain of hair, Dean spotted the dried blood on her swollen bottom lip. He reached out taking her chin between his forefinger and thumb with one hand, and brushing the hair back over her shoulder with the other. What met his eyes made his heart hammer in his chest.

The fat lip was nothing compared to the rest of her face and neck. There was a red mark high on her left cheekbone, which Dean recognized as the beginning of a nasty bruise and deep red abrasions all around her neck, like rug burn…like someone had her in a headlock and meant business.

"What the…" Dean trailed off, momentarily left speechless by the sight of his sister's injuries. He turned angry eyes on the man behind the desk. "Could you not see that my sister is hurt? What are you blind or something?!"

The man was practically shaking with barely contained rage as he responded, pointing once again in MJ's direction. "She broke his jaw and most likely his leg as well! She's hardly an innocent victim, here! Do you have any idea-" he seemed to be grasping for the right words to really get Dean to understand the gravity of the situation. "He's one of our starters! One of the best football players we've ever had in this school! And your sister just ended his season with her thoughtless actions!"

Dean was staring back at the man, fury plain on his features. MJ looked at her brother cautiously, knew what was coming.

When Dean finally spoke he was practically shaking with rage. "You mean to tell me that a guy did this to my sister? That some football star punk beat on her face and she's in here getting the lecture?!" Dean shook his head. "I may not be educated or sophisticated like you think you are, pal, but where I come from men don't hit women! And in case it escaped your notice, she's a thirteen-year-old, 100 pound girl! And you're gonna sit there and berate her for defending herself against a God damn linebacker?" Dean shook his head again, bewildered and disgusted. "Come on, MJ, we're leaving."

MJ stood and Mr. Washington was on his feet in an instant. "Now wait just a minute there!" He bellowed, pointing his finger once again at MJ, close to her face. "There's still the matter of your punishment-"

Dean stepped between his sister and the principal, his expression pissed off as he faced the man, his own finger in the other man's face. "Two things, buddy: One: Get that finger out of my sister's face or I'm gonna rip it the hell off. Two: You ever scream at her like that again, I'll find out about it and you'll be shitting out your own teeth for a month."

Mr. Washington was left speechless as Dean gave him one last glare as he moved swiftly toward the door, pulling MJ along with him.

MJ knotted her straw wrapper and yanked, ripping the piece of paper in two. She could feel Sam's eyes on her from across the booth and kept her eyes cast downward, away from his penetrating gaze. She knew he would want to talk about it and that was the absolute last thing she wanted to do. She had thought about turning him down when he asked if she wanted to go to breakfast, but the thought of being in the motel room when Dean woke up was far less appealing than warding off Sam's interrogation.

They'd ordered and Sam was halfway through his first cup of coffee and he hadn't brought it up yet. MJ began to feel hopeful that maybe Sammy was going to cut her a break after all.

"How did Dean even find out?" Sam asked suddenly.

MJ cringed, still not looking up. So much for catching a break, she thought. She waited him out, knowing he wouldn't give up completely, but that he might limit his questions if she made him work for the answers.

"Did you know about it before yesterday?" Sam prompted.

MJ sighed heavily, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup before finally looking up at her brother.

"No. I didn't know. He texted Dean the website."

Sam furrowed his brows in confusion. "Why would he text Dean? How does he even know Dean's number?"

MJ's eyes dropped back to the table. "Because I stole Dean's phone and called him two days ago. He got mad at me and I guess this was payback." There was silence for quite a while and eventually MJ looked up at Sam's face.

He looked like he was about to lecture her about it, but then his expression softened and he seemed a little sad.

"Why did you do it, MJ?" It wasn't a judgment and he wasn't insinuating she was an idiot like Dean had. She saw anger glint in his eyes. "He asked you for them, didn't he?"

MJ shook her head, running a hand over her ponytail in exasperation. "What difference does it make? I did it, okay? It was my choice." She shook her head in disgust. "I bet on him and I lost. So what?" She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. "Story of my life." She mumbled, cursing the wetness she felt welling up in her eyes. How did she have any tears left to cry?

Dean found a diner close by and parked the Impala out front, still lost in a fog created by the combination of alcohol still lingering in his system and a haze of jumbled thoughts. As he approached the restaurant, he looked inside the window, the sight before him making his stomach roll in a way that had nothing to do with the booze.

On the other side of the glass was MJ, looking down at her cup of coffee, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. The look on her face made Dean freeze in his tracks, unable to take another step forward. He'd seen that look before. That shattered look of pain and deep sadness. He'd probably seen that look of her face lots of times if he was being honest. But that time in that principal's office, the time he'd just been thinking about on the drive here…that was the time that stuck with him. The anguish behind the marks and bruises on her face had been what really drove Dean to make sure someone paid. On that day, over a year ago, MJ had been hurt by some jock and Dean had made it right. He didn't care that he, himself, was an adult and the kid who beat her up was seventeen, that boy paid dearly for laying a hand on his sister. Black and white. An eye for an eye. Simple.

Looking at his sister's face now, Dean felt the fog clear from his brain. Suddenly, this wasn't all so complicated as it had seemed moments ago. He knew what he needed to do and that he needed to do it now. Before he talked to MJ. Before he tried to make things right with Jenna. Even before he found a way to get the photos taken down off that website. No, that would all have to wait. Right now he had a score to settle.

Before Dean could turn to leave MJ looked up and caught his eye. Her face registered surprise at seeing him standing there outside the window, looking in at her. He could only guess at the emotions she must have seen play across his face in those few moments. He watched one final tear cascade down her face before he spun around and headed back to the Impala.