A/N: Thanks to all my readers. I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Dean guided MJ back to the car, Sam catching up with them. A look from Dean told him not to ask any questions as they all got into the car, the only sound MJ's occasional sniffle. They were barely on the road before her crying quieted and she dozed off.

They rode in silence, Sam sneaking looks at Dean. A couple times he opened his mouth, only to close it quickly.

"Spit it out already, Sam." Dean said, not taking his eyes off the road.

Sam turned to him, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry about the whole...McWhorter thing. You were right. I should've come to you right away."

"Damn straight you should have."

"She begged me not to, Dean. And I know I should've told you anyway, but I just-" Sam paused, turning away from Dean, looking out his window.

"What?"

"I can't say no to her, Dean. I feel guilty about how she lived and I just give in, to anything she wants."

"I see. You talk the talk, but when it comes down to it, you can't practice what you preach."

Sam didn't disagree. Dean looked over at his brother, very nearly grinning in amusement.

Sam shook his head. "She got a raw deal, man. She's been through more than we could even begin to imagine." he said.

Any trace of humor on Dean's face vanished in an instant. "What are you talking about?"

"The nightmares." Sam looked over the seat at MJ, curled up on the backseat, sound asleep. "Somebody really hurt her, Dean." He said, no more than a whisper.

Dean's stomach dropped. What Sam was saying was true. He had known that for a while, but had tried like hell not to think about it. Sometimes MJ acted so...normal, it was easy to pretend there wasn't something there. Something horrifying, hidden beneath the surface.

"I get it, Sammy." Dean finally answered. "I do." He turned to Sam. "But if you ever keep something like that from me again, I will lay you flat."

"Fair enough." Sam knew this was as much as Dean would say on the subject. He seemed to be forgiven. But he was no fool. He knew there was still plenty of shit that this case brought up between them that was far from resolved. One thing at a time, he thought.

They drove to a motel west of Dayton. Sam waited in the car with a still sleeping MJ while Dean ran in to get a room. Sam popped the trunk and grabbed their bags as Dean came back out. Dean opened the back door and reached in for MJ.

Sam slammed the trunk. "Dean, your stitches. Let me get her."

"She's light as a feather, man. Besides, I've had her over my shoulder once already today. It's fine." Dean answered, lifting her easily and cradling her as he walked toward the motel room. Despite his comments, Dean did notice that MJ was looking much more healthy these days. She had put on a little weight since he picked her up six months ago. She had been far too thin when he first got her and it angered him to think that she had been struggling to feed herself while her mother was off doing God knows what. He felt a twinge of pride and satisfaction that he had been able to at least do something right by her. Even if it was as simple as keeping her fed.

Once inside, Dean laid her down on the bed farthest from the door and removed her shoes and jacket. Sam retrieved his laptop and set to work at the small table. MJ groaned and stirred, but didn't wake. Dean reached down and brushed the strands of auburn hair away from her face.

"I hope she's not sick tonight." He murmured.

"Dude, she only had three. She'll be fine." Sam said, not looking up.

"She had three in twenty minutes, on an empty stomach and she's a hundred pounds, soaking wet." Dean said looking over his shoulder at his brother. "Plus, I'd like to think she doesn't have any experience with drinking." Dean looked back down at MJ, a frown on his face. "Although after watching her down a shot like a champ, I don't know if that's true."

"Dean." Sam said urgently, staring wide-eyed at the computer screen.

"What is it?" Dean asked, making his way toward Sam. He looked over Sam's shoulder.

"It's the arrest logs for Tupper Lake Police Department. It looks like they picked up McWhorter this morning. Doesn't say much, but look at all the aliases. He must've had ten idfferent ID's on him."

"Aggravated Identity Fraud, Criminal Possession of a Weapon in the fourth degree." Dean read. "What do you think they did with him?"

Sam picked up his cell phone and called the police agency. After a short conversation he hung up, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Well they couldn't wait to fill Detective Sam Bennett in on their dangerous capture. I swear, we gave them more excitement than they've seen in a decade."

"Out with it, Sam. What's the story?" Dean needed to hear that the bastard got what was coming to him.

"Apparently McWhorter, whose real name is Nolan Parsons, has warrants in Canada. A lot of them. The weapons and identity charges are only misdemeanors if you're a United States citizen. Unfortunately for Nolan, he's not a citizen. And he's a fugitve."

"Meaning?" Dean demanded, losing patience.

"Meaning, McWhorter's fucked. He's being detained until he can be extradited back to Canada and tried for outstanding charges in British Columbia."

"What kind of charges?"

"Unlawfully Dealing with a Minor, Aggravated Sexual Assault, Statutory Rape." Sam read off the slip of paper he had scribbled on. He looked up at Dean.

"He is one sick bastard." Dean said, shaking his head, trying hard not to envision what McWhorter would have done to MJ if he hadn't gotten free in time. He looked over at his sister's sleeping form. "He played us for all that time, messing with MJ." He turned back to Sam. "What kind of a person does that?" Dean didn't wait for a response. "I'll tell you what kind, an evil one."

Sam made no response, keeping his gaze on the computer screen, but his expression betraying that he had definitely heard Dean. Dean tried to read his brother's face. He looked...unconvinced?

"What, you disagree?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Of course not, Dean. The guy's messed up for sure."

"Messed up?" Dean asked, his voice getting louder. "Messed up is what those people at Mount Hope are. Messed up implies he didn't have a choice."

"I don't know, Dean," Sam said quietly, finally meeting his brother's eye. "Look at what he went through. That kind of thing can break a person."

"So he gets a pass?" Dean shouted.

"Shh! You'll wake the kid." Sam admonished.

Dean strode quickly to the door and pulled it open. He stood there, giving Sam a meaningful look.

Sam hesitated, but knew Dean wasn't going to let this go. Oh, well. It had to be sometime, why not now? Sam thought as he headed outside. Dean followed, pulling the door closed behind him.

"You'd better start talking, Sammy." Dean stood facing his brother, his fists clenched at his sides. "You've been weird about this case right from the start, now what's going on?"

"Look, Dean, we aren't going to see eye to eye about any of this. Do we have to keep arguing about it?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I think we do. 'Cause right now you're really starting to piss me off. It's sounding like you feel bad for that degenerate low life who tried to rape our sister."

"Dean, I wanted to kill the guy as bad as you did."

"Could've fooled me." Dean interrupted.

"All I'm saying is maybe he's not so different from Joshua Morrison. He obsessed over getting revenge his entire life. That kind of thing, it eats away at a person. Turns them into a machine. A monster who'd do anything to kill whoever or whatever was responsible for ruining his life." Sam looked at Dean, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

Dean considered his brother carefully. They were no strangers to revenge. Their father had shaped their entire lives around justice for their mother. And now Sam was on the same path. Sam didn't want to see McWhorter as a monster, because he could relate to the guy. And Dean could tell that scared his brother shitless.

"Revenge is one thing, Sam, but torturing an innocent girl to get it?" Dean's fists relaxed as he felt a pang of sadness for his brother. He knew Sam was obsessed with finding the thing that killed their mother and Jess. He also knew his brother was undeniably good. "You're nothing like him, Sam. You never could be." Dean took a step closer to Sam and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I mean it. Nobody knows you like I do and you're just not capable of hurting the innocent."

Sam looked unconvinced, but nodded anyway. Dean removed his hand from Sam's shoulder and cleared his throat, taking a step back. "But that's not all of it. You were off right from the jump. Even before McWhorter came along."

Sam didn't answer for a long time, pacing around on the sidewalk in front of their room.

"Out with it." Dean demanded.

"This whole case, Dean, it just reminded me of how pissed off I am at Dad and obviously I can't bring that up to you-"

Dean put his hand up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." That came out of left field, he thought. "What are you talking about?"

"He's abandoned us Dean! We've asked him for help how many times over the last six months? And he hasn't even called us back. And what about MJ? If you hadn't been there to take care of her, where would she be? He doesn't care. He's no better than those people who sent their children off to Mount Hope and had them shut away. Out of sight, out of mind."

Dean's sympathy for his brother was slowly giving way to the familiar irritation that came with Sam disrespecting their father. "I'm sure he has a good reason for not communicating with us, Sam. This is Dad we're talking about-"

"Exactly!" Sam yelled. "Dad, who would leave us alone for weeks at a time to go on a hunt. Dad, who would yank us from school after school and drive us halfway across the country if he thought he had a lead on the thing that killed Mom. Dad, who made me feel like a traitor for going away to college." Sam finished, his face a deep crimson, and took a shaky breath. "It's never been about us."

Dean took a step toward Sam, his eyes betraying his fury. The flush of his cheeks matching Sam's.

"This doesn't have anything to do with MJ, does it? This is about you being angry at Dad for not wanting you to go to college."

"It's not that he didn't want me to go. It's that he made me choose, Dean. He couldn't be proud of me and just let me go. He made me feel guilty about going." Sam paused, sitting down on a bench, looking down at his feet. "I don't know, reading about all those patients whose parents just...sent them away. It brought all that crap up again." Sam looked up at his brother. "I want to find him, Dean, I do. But I know what it's going to be when we do. He meant it when he told me not to come back."

Dean shook his head, vigorously. "He didn't. He was just mad. He'll be happy to see you."

Sam opened his mouth to argue when a shrill scream made them both freeze. It had come from their room.

"MJ!" Dean yelled closing the distance between himself and the room in half a second. He threw open the door, Sam on his heels, and flipped the light on. Panic struck when he saw her bed empty, the sheets and blankets strewn about. Then he heard the soft whimpering. He made his way around the bed and found her huddled in the corner, in the small space between the bed and the wall, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes wide, her face frozen in an alarmed expression. There were tears welling up in her eyes and sweat had matted her hair to her forehead. Her entire body was shaking violently.

Dean crouched down in front of her, grabbing hold of her face between his hands.

"Hey, hey. MJ?" Her vacant stare did not sit well with Dean. "Are you awake, MJ?" He asked, gently tapping her face.

Slowly, MJ focused her gaze on him. She took a deep breath.

"It was just a dream. He's not here." She said, relief plain on her face. "He's not here." She repeated.

Dean pulled her toward him, cradling her against his chest. "No, sweetheart, he's not here. He'll never bother you again, I promise." Dean pulled back, brushing the hair away from her face. "Come on, let's get you back in bed."

Dean helped her up and back into bed. He rearranged the toussled covers and laid down next to her. He turned to Sam who had been standing at the foot of the bed, marveling at how natural it seemed to be for Dean to drop everything and take care of their sister. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. After all, Dean had practically raised him.

"Hey, Sammy, could you get the light?" Dean asked.

Sam obliged before grabbing his bag and walking toward them.

"I'm gonna grab a shower." He said, walking to MJ's side of the bed. "You okay?" He asked leaning over her.

She nodded, giving him a weak smile. Sam leaned further, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, kiddo."

MJ turned onto her side, her back to Dean. He noticed that while the violent shaking had passed, the occassional tremor passed over her. Dean moved closer to her and placed a hand on her arm. "Come here." He said pulling her closer.

MJ scooted closer to Dean, resting her head on his chest. Dean wrapped one arm around her shoulders. MJ felt instantly comforted, the tremors subsided quickly, her fear melting away.

Dean closed his eyes, listening to MJ's steady breathing, knowing she was nearly asleep.

"I'm sorry about before. At the restaurant. It was stupid." She said suddenly.

"No worries, kid. But no more drinking." He said quietly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you this morning, in the car."

"S'okay." MJ mumbled.

"Dean?" She asked after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"What you said this morning, about me not trusting you..."

"Yeah?" He prompted.

"I do trust you, just not as much as I wish I could. Not completely. I can't."

"It's okay, I get it."

"But for what it's worth, I trust you more than anyone else on the face of the earth." She turned her head to look up at his face. She smiled slightly. "That's gotta count for something, right?"

Dean simply tightened his arm around her in response.

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