A/N: So this chapter is mostly background on how MJ came to be with the boys. I hope you enjoy it. It's not graphic but some mention of abuse/neglect. I still own nothing. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 3

MJ never consciously thought about those horrible nights. She had forced them from her waking thoughts and into some confined corner of her mind, where they couldn't threaten to overcome her. But at night, when she had no control, when her guard was down, sometimes those horrible encounters flooded her subconscious. She would remember them when she woke, making her feel broken and insignificant. Unclean. She would spend the next twelve hours or so trying to free herself from their hold on her, trying to feel normal again.

The sun shone weakly through the windows of MJ's bedroom the next morning, but she was completely unaware of it. In her mind, she was back in one of the many boarding houses, with her mother passed out next to her. Carl was kneeling next to the bed, stroking her thigh. She was paralyzed with fear. She wanted to tell him to stop, to scream for help, but all she could do was stare at him, wide eyed. Then she could feel his weight on top of her. He was pulling up her nightgown. The pressure, the stabbing pain. She whimpered.

"Shh. It won't hurt if you relax."

She heard screaming, but didn't know where it was coming from. She knew she was dreaming now. She needed to wake up. It hurt so much.

Dean burst into the room, pistol in hand, to see MJ thrashing on the bed, screaming in agony. When he saw she was alone and clearly dreaming, he placed the gun in his waistband at the small of his back and knelt on the bed next to her. He grabbed her wrists to try to stop her flailing. Sam appeared in the doorway, pulling on a t-shirt.

"MJ, wake up! Come on kid, it's just a dream." Dean soothed, pulling her into a sitting position and wrapping his arms around her. Sam hovered over them looking worried.

Finally MJ opened her eyes and looked up at Dean. She stopped screaming abruptly. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, her face red and blotchy. "That-a-girl. It was just a dream." Dean said stroking her hair. "You're safe." Dean shifted on the bed so she was sitting across his lap. She burrowed her face into his shirt, her arms trapped between their bodies as Dean held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her. "Just try and relax."

She stiffened. "It won't hurt if you relax." She immediately extracated herself from his arms and stood, the familiar feeling of shame and dread settling into the pit of her stomach.

"I'm gonna take a shower." She turned and headed toward the bathroom.

"Whoa, whoa." Dean caught her arm and held her. "Talk to me. What just happened?"

"Dean, please. I can't." She tried to pull away.

"Mary Jane. We need to talk about this."

His use of her full name gave her pause, but she just...couldn't. "No."

"Mar-"

She had to get out of the room, away from them now.

"No! Let go of me, Dean!"

Dean hesitated, but released his hold on her, backing away. She immediately retreated into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind her.

"What the hell was that all about?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged, sitting on the edge of her bed. He recalled a similar incident about three months ago. MJ had woken up, screaming. She wouldn't talk to him about it then, either.

Dean felt way out of his league with this. When he went to pick her up six months ago, he was blown away to hear from the child protective caseworker what had been going on, how she had been living. He now knew her life hadn't been an easy one, that she had seen some things that a girl her age should never have to even know existed. So he couldn't even begin to imagine what these dreams were about. On top of it all, he knew she was confused about her mother. She could still be out there, somewhere, and MJ felt a certain loyalty to her. Dean on the other hand held the woman in the same regard as one of the disgusting monsters they hunted and gutted everyday.

Scotty came into the room and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He jerked his head toward the closed bathroom door. "She okay?"

"She'll be fine." Dean said, as he stood, walking out of the room.

Dean went to do what he always did when he was frustrated. There was nothing quite as calming as leaning under the hood of his Impala, just checking everything out, doing some routine maintenance. While he checked all the fluids, he thought back to the day he got the phone call from CPS.

***Flashback***

Dean was eating a cheeseburger and consulting his map while attempting to keep the car on the road somewhere outside of New Orleans. Dad had left for Jericho two weeks ago. Dean had heard nothing from him since. He had waited around in New Orleans after finishing up with the Hoodoo thing, but he was getting antsy and couldn't sit around there anymore. The plan was to head to Jericho and find his father. Hopefully he would call while Dean was en route to California.

Dean was contemplating pulling over for the night when his cell phone rang. He gave up on folding the map, quickly tossed it over the back seat and grabbed his phone from his coat pocket, sure it was his father.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Dean Winshester?" a woman's voice asked.

"Yeah."

"This is Jenna Cullen with Cook County Child Protective Services. I need to speak with you in regards to Wendy and MaryJane Hanson."

Dean's heart sped up. "My sister and her mother?"

"Yes, I'm here with MJ now, at her mother's...home. Ms. Hanson is missing and has been for several months. We were alerted today and found your sister living on her own."

"Is she okay?"

"She's unharmed, however we can't allow her to continue to live alone, and we have been unable to get in contact with her father."

"Wait, when you say missing...was she kidnapped or something?"

"She went out one night and didn't come back. I really don't have all the details on that since it's a police investigation, but Mr. Winchester, if we can't locate a relative willing to take responsibilty for your sister, we'll have no choice but to place her in foster care."

Dean's stomach was in knots, his mind racing. Several months? Had he even talked to her in the past few months? He rarely initiated contact, she would usually call him and Dad to check in. Why hadn't she called them right away when her mother didn't come home?

"Mr. Winchester, are you there?"

"She's there with you now?"

"Yes, she's right here."

Dean took a deep breath. "Let me talk to her."

There was a pause as the phone was passed off.

"Hello?" she sounded like she was crying. Her voice was small and scared.

"MJ, are you alright?" He asked, swallowing back tears.

"Dean, where's Dad?" She asked, sounding panicked.

"I don't know. He's working a job, I-" He paused, at a total loss. "I haven't been able to reach him, either."

She choked back a sob, taking a shaky breath. "I don't want to live with strangers." She managed before being overtaken by the tears.

"MJ, listen to me. I'm coming to get you. Do you hear me? I will be there first thing in the morning, okay? And we'll figure this out. You're not going to live in some foster home. Got it?" She didn't respond. "Answer me, MJ."

"OK."

"Let me talk to the worker again."

Dean could hear the woman trying to console MJ before coming on the line.

"I'll be there in twelve hours." He shook his head. "I can't-" his voice broke. He took a deep breath. "She must be so scared."

"Mr. Winchester," she paused, "Dean. I promise you she will be fine for the night. You have my word."

"Thanks,-"

"Jenna." she offered.

"Jenna. You call me if she needs me."

"You got it."

Dean arrived in Chicago at 8 AM. He was running on no sleep and four cups of coffee. Jenna had called him and told him not to meet her at the office. She gave him an address and said she'd be there at 8:30.

Dean pulled up in front of a row of dilapidated houses. The lawns were strewn with trash and junk cars. In front of the house on the corner, 86, the one Dean was looking for, stood two scantily clad, hardened looking women. "If they're not hookers, then Sam's the good looking brother," he said to himself. "Where the hell did she send me?" he wondered as he watched two men complete a drug deal not twenty feet in front of him.

A black Nissan Pathfinder pulled to the curb in front of him, a woman in her mid twenties getting out. She wore heels, a black skirt suit and her hair in a ponytail. A government badge swung from her necklace as she made her way to the passenger side of the vehicle. She leaned into the back seat, rummaging around. Knowing this was Jenna, Dean got out of the car and approached her. The drug dealer hadn't moved since completing his last transaction. He was now staring at the caseworker's behind.

"That's right, baby. Go in deep." he called to her.

"Hey, watch it, pal!" Dean called, placing himself between the man and woman, facing the man.

"I ain't your fuckin' pal, pal." The man took a step toward Dean.

Jenna emerged from the vehicle and stepped between Dean and the drug dealer.

"Alright, that's enough. I'll call the cops, Franky, you know I will. Just leave it alone."

Franky stared at Dean for a few more moments, then retreated back to his spot on the sidewalk.

Jenna turned to Dean with a smile. She held numerous manilla folders and a digital camera. "I'm Jenna Cullen, we spoke on the phone."

"Dean Winchester, but somehow you already knew that."

They crossed the street, Jenna leading the way. She gestured toward the Impala. "Your sister told me all about your amazing car." She grinned.

"Where is she?"

"I just dropped her off at school. She wanted to go and I didn't see the harm in it." She said heading up the steps and into the entryway of the house. "When we're finished here we'll go pick her up." She added climbing the stairs. Dean noticed numbers on the doors of the rooms. As they reached the second floor, a smell of urine and filth met Dean's nose. "Where are we exactly? Is this a boarding house?"

She stopped on the landing, turning to look at Dean. "I wanted to show you something." She turned and opened the door to her right. She stepped in and motioned for Dean to enter. The room was about 8' by 8', with two mattresses crammed side by side on the floor. There were bins with clothes in them, a dresser, the top of which was serving as a counter top/medicine cabinet, and a hot plate in the corner. The one, small, grimey window was propped open by a piece of two by four, but even at 8:30 in the morning, the room was warm and stuffy, and smelled of cigarette smoke. Despite the tight quarters, whoever lived here clearly tried to keep it clean. The beds were made, the clothes folded and there were even some fresh flowers on the dresser top.

Jenna gave him a few minutes to take it all in before speaking.

"This is where your sister was living." She said as Dean was inspecting the sundry items on the dresser top.

He jerked around, and stared at her, trying to process what she had just said. He turned and took in the room again.

"No, no." He shook his head. "They had an apartment , in a decent building, near the river-"

"They did, until her mother OD'd there and they got evicted last fall. They moved around after that, and landed here four months ago. Wendy's been gone for three."

"OD'd?"

Jenna nodded. "On crack. Nearly died."

"I swear I had no idea. She never said anything." He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. "My father, he doesn't know or he never would have left her with that woman."

Jenna took a step closer to Dean. "I brought you here, so you could see for yourself just how serious this situation is. Dean, even if Wendy walked through that door right now, she can't care for MJ. Wherever MJ goes today, it's probably going to be a long term placement."

"I can take her until I find-I mean until my father is available."

"Look, Dean, I don't know you or your father, but we're talking about a fourteen year old girl here. A fourteen year old girl who's porbably been through hell. I need to know that you understand what you're signing on for and that you're committed to doing this. This could be until she turns eighteen. Are you willing and able to be responsible for a teenage girl for the next three and a half years?"

Dean looked her in the eye. "She is my sister. As long as she needs me, she has me." Dean turned away, tears in his eyes. "I just wish she had called me sooner. I can't believe she lived like this..." Dean cleared his throat, turning back to the woman. "I want to see her. Can we go get her?"

Jenna and Dean left the house and went to her car. Jenna offered to complete the interview and necessary paperwork in her car to avoid a trip to her office. Franky was nowhere to be seen as they crossed the street.

"How'd you know that idiot's name earlier?" Dean asked opening her door for her.

"He's your run of the mill baby daddy. I actually placed one of his kids last week. The mom was strung out on heroine. " Dean circled around getting in the passenger seat. It took about half an hour to complete everything.

"Okay, so you don't know where her father is or when you'll be able to contact him. You have no stable home, no real source of income, and, my favorite part, you have a criminal record." She looked up at him like she wanted him to refute this recap. When he didn't she continued. "Here's the deal Dean," Jenna said closing up her folder and clicking her pen. "MJ goes with you for now, but we'll need to check in. Frequently. I don't think MJ would benefit from reuniting with her mother, even if she does surface, but that's not really my call. I have to convince a Judge that you are the appropriate caretaker. So please, do what you can to make my job easy." She grinned at him.

Dean waited outside the school while Jenna went in to get MJ. Dean had loaded her meager belongings into the trunk, thinking that he would need to take her shopping pretty soon. Jenna had given him a lot to think about: school, doctors, a supervision plan, counseling...he'd work out the details later, right now he needed to see her for himself, make sure she was really okay. Everything else they'd figure out as they went.

Dean's heart hammered in his chest as he saw Jenna coming down the steps, followed by a girl he barely recognized as his sister. She looked thinner than last time he'd seen her (which he had figured out on the drive up was about 8 months ago). And paler. The thing that struck him the most was how grown up she looked. Her face had lost it's childish chubbiness and she was wearing make up. This simple fact blew Dean away. When had she stopped being a little kid?

MJ ran a hand through her hair as she and Jenna drew nearer. Dean smiled. She looked so much like their father when she did that.

Dean walked toward them when they descended the front steps. Jenna fell back as MJ approached Dean.

"Hey, kid, what's new?" he asked with a smirk.

Her face immediately crumpled at his words and she ducked her head, breaking down in sobs. Dean closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms. He held her tightly, the relief sweeping through him at finally seeing her not enough to keep the new panic at bay. He didn't do well with emotions, and crying teenage girls were not something he was accustomed to. He looked up at Jenna, anxiety plain on his face. She just smiled warmly and nodded, letting him know that this is all MJ needed right now.

Dean drew a deep breath before pulling back and examining MJ closely. "Are you okay?"

She just nodded, still crying freely. When she had quieted, Dean opened the passenger side door for her. She got in and Dean closed the door behind her and turned to Jenna.

"Thanks, ya know, for giving me a chance. I won't let ya down."

"Hey, as long as you don't let her down, I'm happy." Jenna approached MJ's open window. Dean was impressed when she squatted down to talk to MJ. The woman was in a skirt, after all. "This is my cell number. You can call or text me anytime. I'm gonna see you in three months. Right Dean?" she asked glancing at Dean who was now behind the wheel.

"Yes, ma'am."

Jenna stood, smiling down at them. "Happy trails."

Dean pulled away, thinking he felt more capable of killing the devil himself than he did of pulling this off.

***Present***

Dean was deep in thought when Sam appraoched him, handing him a beer. Dean accepted it, turning and leaning back against the fender.

"Thanks."

Sam nodded. "You've been out here for hours. Everything okay?"

Dean took a drink before answering. "No, everything is not okay. Is that what you want me to say, Sammy? Everything is complete shit! Is that what you came out here to hear?"

"If that's what you're really thinking, then yeah, that's what I want to hear. You have to talk to me, Dean. We're in this together."

Dean shook his head, walking to his tool bench and searching for a socket wrench. "See that's where you're wrong, Sammy. No one's in this with me. I took responsibility for her. I'm the one who took this on, and I'm the one who's screwing it up."

"How are you screwing it up?"

"She wakes up screaming, won't tell me what's wrong. I have no clue what happened to her all those years that woman who called herself a mother was supposed to be taking care of her." Dean was slamming tools around. "I should have forced her to keep seeing that counselor. I never should have let her quit." Dean tossed a screw driver down and kicked the bench, tools spilling onto the ground. He then sat down on an overturned cement bucket, running a hand through his hair. "I don't have a fuckin' clue what I'm doing."

There was silence for a few moments. Sam grabbed Dean's abandoned beer, handed it to Dean and then took the makeshift seat beside him.

"For what it's worth I think you're doing a hell of a job." Sam said. "She's a good kid, Dean."

"I know she is."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. This isn't easy, but she's got everything she needs, and- for the most part she's happy. It's gonna take time. She'll talk when she's ready." Sam said, a note of finality in his voice.

Dean smirked. "If you say so, college boy. You take adolescent psych at Stanford?"

"Shut up, Dean." Sam stood, heading inside.

"Hey, Sam."

Sam stopped and looked back.

"Thanks."

Sam just smiled and headed toward the house.

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