A/N: Thanks so much for reading. You guys are the best:)

Chapter 10

Sam cut up his pancakes with a little more force than was necessary as he watched his sister intently. She sat across the booth from him, completely ignoring both Sam and her plate of untouched food as she twisted a strand of hair around and around her finger, her eyes poring over the open file in front of her. She had read each of those player profiles at least a dozen times. They both knew there was nothing to be found there. She was so focused it was like she was intent on memorizing every piece of information in front of her. Sam took a bite of his food, eyes still on MJ as he slowly chewed. He swallowed, cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully.

"Why don't you take a break from that and eat something?" He asked in a carefully benign tone, not wanting to set her off. She'd been so on edge since Dean left.

MJ snatched a fry from her plate, never looking up, and popped it into her mouth.

Sam sighed, frustrated. After they'd left the arena, getting close to nothing from the half dozen or so players they'd interviewed, they'd driven here to this diner to grab something to eat and regroup. MJ hadn't spoken a word, had barely even looked at him since their argument in the car. He'd called Dean, again, when MJ had been in the ladies room and of course had gotten no answer. This was all becoming increasingly aggravating. One sibling wouldn't take his calls and the other wouldn't even acknowledge his presence. Every fiber of his being wanted to question MJ about her reaction in the car. Why had she flinched when he reached toward her? Had it just been a reflex? Could she have possibly thought he was going to hit her? Sure, he'd been angry, but MJ knew he'd never raise a hand to her, no matter how pissed off he was.

Sam took a sip of his coffee, his eyes still on his younger sister.

He supposed he understood why she was doing this. But he felt as though she would snap at any moment, like if he said or did the wrong thing it might break her. Something was going on in that head of hers…a lot of somethings actually and Sam knew it was only a matter of time before her troubled thoughts manifested into some reckless, dangerous action. That seemed to be her pattern before. A small part of him hoped that those months at Bobby's, working with Dr. Whitmore and spending so much time with him and Dean might have broadened her coping skills, given her some other outlets for her anger and pain besides retreating inside herself and taking off on them. And he knew he really should give her the benefit of the doubt here. But the silent treatment she was giving him now seemed all too familiar, and Sam feared it was the first step in the reaction they' d grown to expect from her.

It all settled like lead in his stomach. Dean had been so sure MJ was "fixed" during their time with Bobby. Sure Sam had seen marked improvements in her – she wasn't so withdrawn and her moods improved – but he wasn't fool enough to think that a few months of counseling and some quality time with her brothers would be enough to cure MJ of all of her demons. He envied Dean's optimism, he really did, but he was a realist and he'd accepted the slight changes in his sister as a step in the right direction, something to build on and nothing more. He didn't have the heart to rain on Dean's parade, though, not that Dean would've listened anyway.

It broke his heart to see Dean's illusion slowly crumble over the past week starting with finding Patrick in MJ's room. Sam knew that Dean saw all of this crap with Patrick as a failure on his part. He approached taking care of MJ like he did most things: he took complete and total responsibility for her and he owned every mistake she made as his own. That's why Sam knew that no matter how upset he was over these photos of MJ, they tore at Dean in a way Sam couldn't fully understand.

Sam slowly pushed his coffee cup back and forth between his hands as he tried a different tack, at this point his only goal to get her to talk to him, about anything.

"So, what's our next step then?" He asked, gesturing toward the file in front of her with his fork.

She looked up at him finally, her face carefully benign, void of emotion. She wasn't going to give anything up to him, that much was clear.

"Garrett Sloan." She answered simply, before looking back down and scribbling something on the inside of one of the file folders.

"What about him?" Sam asked, careful not to make it sound like a challenge.

"He was all squirrely and nervous. He knew more than he was letting on. He's the key to whatever is going on here."

Sam nodded. "Okay, so we go back tomorrow, lean on him, see if he squeals?"

MJ shook her head. "We've already got him rattled. I say we follow him. See what he's up to." She piled up the files, finally moving her plate in front of her.

"Tonight?"

MJ looked up at him exasperated. "What, you got something more important to do?" She challenged.

Sam scowled, but didn't argue. She was actually speaking to him. And she was eating. He wasn't going to push his luck.

"Okay. We'll head over to his place after we eat." Sam conceded.

MJ shrugged. "I'm not really hungry anyway," she shoved the plate back. "Let's go." She made to stand and Sam put his hand out signaling for her to wait.

"Wait. We're not in any hurry. You should eat." He said, looking at her pleadingly.

"I said I wasn't hungry, Sam." She said, shrugging on her coat and standing up.

Sam sighed heavily and bit his tongue to keep from demanding she eat her dinner.

MJ's stony expression softened slightly at Sam's defeated sigh.

"I'll take it to go. Eat it later." She offered, flagging down the waitress.

Sam left it at that and paid the bill while MJ wrapped up her untouched burger.

MJ chewed at her nails, her eyes glued to Garrett's apartment building. She was regretting the large coffee she'd downed an hour ago. It was making her fidgety and even more irritable. Not to mention she had to pee like a race horse. She blew out a breath noisily through her lips, feeling Sam's eyes on her briefly. She didn't turn toward him though, staring out the windshield. Had this stakeout been her idea? Because it sucked royally. Too much down time…the entire point of working this case was so she didn't have time to dwell on Patrick…or Dean…or that guy at the jail who she'd nearly killed with her mind. Shit, this really sucked. The caffeine had her mind racing and sitting in the car with Sam for over an hour left her with no distraction. At least Sam seemed to be taking her not so subtle hints and leaving her alone.

"You doin' okay?" Her brother's voice suddenly broke through her frustrated inner monologue.

Well, shit.

"Mm-hm." MJ answered, not making eye contact.

She saw Sam nod in her peripheral and hoped he would leave it at that.

"It's just…you seem…agitated." He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

MJ tried not to sound irritated when she answered him. After all, he was making an effort. And it wasn't his fault that everything was so jacked up. "I'm just antsy. I wanna solve this and now I'm thinking maybe Garrett wasn't our best lead."

Sam seemed to be considering this as he looked out the windshield at the third story apartment window. They'd watched Garrett come home nearly two hours ago and since then nothing. The lights were still on inside, but they couldn't see anything. Sam shrugged. "Well maybe he's in for the night." He suggested.

MJ shook her head. "No. The Piglets said most of the team goes out every night to The Patch." She replied easily, still watching the empty street in front of them, biting at her thumb nail.

Sam looked down at MJ, a deeply confused look on his face. "The who's said they go where?"

MJ spared Sam a quick glance before explaining. "Piglets. It's these girls…groupies I guess who follow the team." At Sam's still baffled look, MJ sighed impatiently. "You know they're 'The Hocks' so the fans call themselves 'piglets.' Anyway," she continued, giving up, "they have a message board where they post all about the Hocks. People can ask questions. They told me that Garrett Sloan or 'Sloaner' as his teammates call him goes to this bar, The Patch with a bunch of the guys from the team every night for drinks."

"How do they know that?"

MJ shrugged. "I guess the same way they knew he has a ferret named Yoda and rarely wears underwear. They're stalkers." MJ said simply, not really caring how they got their information as long as it was accurate.

Sam shook his head. "Okay. That's not creepy at all." He muttered.

"Show time." MJ said, pointing out the windshield, sitting up a little straighter in her seat as she saw Garrett make his way out of the building and to his car.

Sam followed behind him at a safe distance so as not to be spotted as Garrett made his way through the small downtown area.

"So if you knew he'd be going to this bar, why didn't we just go there and wait?" Sam asked.

"I thought maybe he'd stop somewhere on the way…maybe give us a clue to what he's hiding. I mean, you saw him, he's nervous as balls, he's gotta be freaking right about now. Scared people do desperate things."

Sam wasn't arguing with that. Unfortunately, Garrett drove straight to the bar, parking at the curb out front. Sam killed the headlights, pulling the car to the side of the road a block away.

Sam watched Garrett make his way inside before turning to MJ. "We should go in separately, maybe he won't recognize us."

MJ's eyes snapped quickly toward her brother, an incredulous look on her face. "You mean you're just gonna let me go in there? You're not gonna fight me on this?"

Sam shrugged, unfastening his seatbelt. "What would be the point, it's not like you're going to give in and wait in the car."

"About time you smartened up." MJ muttered, getting out of the car.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You go ahead. I'll wait a few minutes before I follow."

MJ just nodded heading quickly toward the bar. She felt like she might not make it inside and to the bathroom before she peed herself.

"Hey." Sam called after her.

MJ turned, trying not to look too exasperated.

"Be careful." He warned.

MJ just nodded and continued inside.

The place was the definition of dive. The floors were dirty, the air smelled stale and the clientele was sketchy to say the least. It wasn't crowded by any stretch of the imagination, but there were enough people inside that MJ didn't stand out too much as she made her way toward the bartender, trying not to look too hurried or jumpy. She felt a few sets of eyes on her and thought that even in the jeans and ratty t-shirt she'd changed into at the diner, she probably still stuck out like a sore thumb. For starters the patrons consisted of almost all men. And what few women were here, were basically dressed like prostitutes and were congregated around a knot of men playing pool in the back. MJ recognized them all as hockey players. She spotted Garrett Sloan standing with his back to her near the dart board.

MJ sat down at the bar beside a middle aged man in a leather biker's jacket, nursing a beer. She smiled hesitantly at the bartender, a man in his later 30's or early 40's with tattoos up and down his arms and on his neck. He had his hair buzzed short and made no attempt to return MJ's smile as he looked expectantly at her.

"Bud Light." She said, trying to sound like she ordered one every day. The bartender looked slightly cross and scoffed, turning and grabbing a beer from behind him, placing the bottle in front of her. She noticed as he opened it that it was not the brand she'd ordered.

"You'll have a Summit. Best beer in Minnesota." He proclaimed, not really seeming to care whether she agreed or not. "Enjoy." He said, eyes on her, lips curved upward into an almost smile. "Agent."

MJ's heart skipped a beat as she looked back at him eyebrows raised in surprise. Play it cool.

She gave him another smile, this one more sheepish, like she'd been caught. "Am I that obvious?"

He refilled the biker's glass with whiskey. "Small town. I hear things."

"About?" MJ challenged, pressing her luck.

"About," he turned back toward her, eyes locking with hers. "The little blonde Fed who looks twelve and has been sniffin' around."

MJ tried to pull a slightly offended face as she took a sip of her beer. "So then you know why I'm in town."

His only response was to nod once, tossing an empty bottle into the metal can. It shattered noisily when it hit the bottom.

"Have you heard anything that would be of interest to me?"

When he looked back at her MJ sensed that she'd gone too far, been too direct with her last question.

"You aren't gonna find anything here. Finish your beer and be on your way."

It wasn't a request, but it wasn't a threat either. She glanced over at Garrett and the others as she took another sip of her beer. Garrett looked distracted, agitated, a stark contrast to the others who were the picture of calm: shooting pool and flirting with the skanky looking girls.

The biker stood, tossing money down on the bar. "See ya, Patch." He muttered gruffly before making his way to the door. The bartender raised his hand, waving to the man.

Patch? So either the bartender owned the place or his name was one hell of a coincidence.

MJ placed a five dollar bill on the bar with a smile in Patch's direction. "Okay if I use the facilities before I head out?"

Patch waved a hand at her in a 'whatever' gesture as he dried a clean glass. MJ was surprised when she turned to head toward the bathroom and saw Sam sitting at the opposite end of the bar, waiting to be served. How the hell had she missed him coming in?

Her eyes slid away from him, careful not to acknowledge him as she made her away across the room. She turned into the narrow, dim hallway finding two doors across from each other. She pushed open the Ladies' room door with her forearm, careful not to touch anything with her hands.

When she was finished and went to pull the door open a few minutes later, she heard hushed voices drifting in from the hallway. She kept the door ajar just barely and placed her ear to the small opening.

"You need to relax. You're acting like a fucking pussy!" A deep, male voice whispered harshly, sounding furious to be having this conversation at all.

The answering voice sounded panicked, at his wits end, and MJ immediately recognized his voice as Garrett's. "They knew something, man! They had files on all of us! Shit, we shouldn't even be back here, its nuts!"

MJ heard a slight scuffle, and then Garrett groaned as the other man answered. "Yeah, we should quit coming here, to the bar we've come to every night for over a year. That won't look suspicious at all." He spat sarcastically. Then MJ heard a slapping sound and Garrett groaned indignantly again. "Use your fucking head man! We keep doing what we've always done and this'll all blow over. Trust me. They got nothing. If they did they would've already arrested us."

There was a short pause before Garrett whispered desperately. "Getting arrested is the least of our worries. Mitch and Trenton are dead. Something killed them!" Garrett sounded like he wasn't even sure about what he was suggesting himself, but he was frantic. "They were here that night…they were-"

"Fellas." A new voice interrupted them and MJ heard footsteps coming toward them. "Everything okay?"

It was Patch, MJ realized and carefully let the door fall closed. She tiptoed back to the sink and ran the water for a few seconds before heading back to the door and opening it, acting surprised to see the group of men standing in the cramped hallway.

Garrett's eyes went wide and all the color left his face when he saw her. MJ recognized the other guy, the one Garrett had been arguing with as Jacob Miller who they'd interviewed earlier today as well. He looked pissed off and suspicious as he glared at her.

She tried to act natural, nodding up at them as she made her way past them, just barely having room to slip by. Patch gave her a hard look as she passed him. She just smiled back at him, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. She didn't make it another step though, as Sam barreled around the corner, nearly knocking her over backward. He steadied her, grabbing hold of her upper arms to keep her on her feet.

"Agent." MJ said, as soon as she was once again steady. She gave Sam a meaningful look. "We should get going." She pushed on Sam's shoulder, turning him around. He hesitated, looking between the three men towering over his sister with a displeased look on his face.

"Best idea you've had all night." Patch drawled as they made their way around the corner, MJ practically pushing Sam forward. MJ didn't look back to see Jacob or Garrett's reaction to Sam's sudden appearance. She focused on getting Sam and herself out the door.

Once on the sidewalk, MJ let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She walked hurriedly toward the car running the short conversation she'd just overheard over in her head.

"You okay?" Sam asked, easily falling into step beside her. "I saw you go into that hallway, then those two players, then the freaking bartender followed you…he made me as soon as I walked in, so I panicked when he went back there. I didn't know what was going on."

"He made me, too." MJ said as they reached the car. "Garrett and Jacob were arguing outside the bathroom when I went to leave so I listened in. I think Patch knew I was up to something and broke up their conversation. " She paused to duck inside the car. "Something went down at the bar." She continued as she fastened her seatbelt. "Something involving our two dead guys and Jacob and Garrett." MJ told Sam everything she had overheard as they drove back to the motel.

"You think that bartender knows something? Maybe that's why he hushed those guys up. Why he didn't want us hanging around." Sam wondered aloud as he parked in front of their room.

"Maybe. I'm guessing he owns that hole. His name was Patch…like the bar. Either way, we gotta search that bar, see what's up. Garrett was terrified of even being there. I think he only went to try and convince Jacob they were in danger."

Sam pushed the motel room door open and stepped inside, MJ following in his wake. He flipped on a light, looking over at her. "Grab a couple hours sleep and go back after closing?" He suggested.

MJ yawned loudly. "Sounds like a plan." She agreed.

Yeah, sure, grab a couple hours…yeah right.

MJ lay in bed, wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. She could try blaming the coffee, but she'd be lying. There was just so much shit running circles through her head and she couldn't seem to turn it off. She thought about what Dr. Whitmore had taught her, ways to relax your body and mind so you could fall asleep even when you were stressed to the max. Problem was, she didn't think shocking people with the power of your mind could be managed with deep breathing exercises. She sighed, running a hand through her knotted hair. She'd been functioning-sort of- after that whole thing at the jail. She'd decided not to tell Dean and Sam, to just wait it out, see if it happened again before panicking. She'd been fooling herself, no doubt, but she'd been coping. Then Dean saw the pictures and everything spiraled. The last couple nights she'd managed an hour or two of sleep at Sam's insistence.

She and Sam hadn't talked about Dean: where he was, what he was doing. She had a pretty good idea and she knew Sam did as well. But he'd left nearly forty-eight hours ago and Lincoln was a five hour drive…four for Dean. So where was he now? MJ suspected that Sam didn't know either. She could sense him growing more and more aggravated and knew this was due at least in part to Dean's unexplained absence.

MJ knew what to expect when Dean did finally decide to grace them with his presence. He'd yell a little more, lay down some more rules and try to come up with a punishment. Then he'd no doubt get all awkward and embarrassed and, and…all Dean and make her have a freaking heart to heart with him. For a guy who was tough as nails and could kill evil with his bare hands, he sure could turn on the after school special. MJ sighed and despite herself, smiled fondly. She wondered when he'd get back…when she'd have to face the music.

Sam and MJ saw the red and blue lights of the emergency vehicles from blocks away. MJ felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as they slowly drove closer and saw that all of the police cars and the ambulance were right outside of The Patch. Police tape lined the front of the building as cops milled around.

Sam pulled over a block away and grabbed his FBI badge from the glove box. "Stay here." He said, reaching for his door handle.

"Sam-" MJ began to protest, but Sam cut her off.

"Just for a minute. Just until I see what's up." His voice was almost pleading and he sounded weary, exhausted. MJ bit her tongue and nodded curtly, not happy with it, but sick of arguing with him.

MJ watched as Sam trotted up to one of the police officers and flashed his badge. He stood there talking with him for a few minutes, the cop gesturing toward the building a few times, a sickened look on his face. MJ felt the lack of sleep starting to catch up to her, all the caffeine out of her system now. She drowsily watched Sam, scooching down lower in her seat, trying to get comfortable. Then her eyes popped wide open and her heart raced as she saw a body bag being wheeled out of the bar and into the back of a van. She sat up, ram rod straight, completely alert, waiting impatiently for Sam to come back and confirm what she suspected.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Sam made his way back to the car. He got in, closing the door and fastening his seatbelt, not saying anything.

"Well?" MJ asked impatiently.

Sam sighed. "Patch." He answered, confirming what she already knew. MJ detected a hint of guilt in his voice. "One of the regulars beat him to death with the bat he kept behind the bar. Witnesses said it was completely unprovoked." Sam finished.

"Shit." MJ choked out, not able to form a more coherent response.

After about a minute of silence, Sam started the car and started down the road.

MJ swallowed noisily, her throat feeling dry. She shook her head, despairingly. "We shouldn't have left. I knew something was up, we should've stayed."

"No." Sam answered quickly. "We couldn't have known." But his words seemed hollow, like he didn't even believe them himself. He took a deep breath. "We'll go back once the cops have cleared out. Probably won't be until morning." He was talking more to himself now, eyes focused straight ahead on the road.

MJ nodded, knowing all they could do now was keep working the case, try and stop this thing before it struck again.

Sam nudged her arm with his elbow. "Hey," he said quietly, waiting for her to look at him. "We'll get this thing."

MJ looked back at him and forced a smile, nodded. "I know."