A/N: This one's a bit heavy. What can I say? Dram, drama, drama...sigh. I hope you enjoy it. I'm going on vacation Monday, so this is probably the last update for a little while. I get back a week from tomorrow and plan to jump right back in. Until then...
MJ felt sick to her stomach, sitting beside Sam on the motel bed, unable to speak despite the hundred or so half formed thoughts floating around in her head. Sam must have been absorbed in his own thoughts, because he seemed content to let her sit in silence. She was grateful to him for not forcing her to talk about how she was feeling, which was usually the "Sam way". Sam normally pulled it all out of her while Dean preferred that she kept it all inside. And John-well she could really only guess at that since she'd never spent more than a random day here and there with her father in her entire life. Even then it was never just the two of them. Dean and Sam were there, too. It had never struck her as odd. She had never felt like she was missing out on anything, until this moment now. She felt…cheated that she didn't even know her father. Not really. If Wendy never came back…if John was the only parent she had now…
The door opened, interrupting her disturbing thoughts. John walked in first, sparing MJ and Sam the briefest of glances before grabbing his journal off the nightstand and sitting down at the table with it. Dean entered behind him and looked to Sam, silently telling him the news. MJ didn't need to hear the words. She knew from the softness of Dean's eyes and the way Sam's body relaxed noticeably next to her that John had relented. She was staying. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
John looked up from the journal after a few moments, fixing MJ with a stern look. "Mary Jane, you're going to stay with your brothers." He said unnecessarily. MJ nodded anyway, letting him know she was listening. "For now." He pointed a finger at her. "And things are going to be very different." He qualified. "You're gonna keep up on your schoolwork, stay out of trouble, and no more screwing around." He finished in a tone that left no room for argument.
MJ didn't respond, knowing there was no need. This was a straight forward order and she would follow it without question or complaint. Sam apparently had other ideas.
"And what about you, Dad?" Sam asked not quite meeting John's eye, his shoulders tensing and the arm draped over MJ's neck stiffening.
John's eyes flicked to Sam before he returned his attention to the journal. "What about me?"
That was all Sam needed to hear. He stood quickly taking a step toward his father. "You're going after it aren't you? You're going after it without us. Without me." Sam said disgusted.
"Sam, you can't go with me, no one can." John stood. "You guys can't be with me. Even me being here is risky. To hunt together…no." He said with a shake of his head.
"That's bull, Dad!" Sam shouted, taking another step.
"Hey!" Dean yelled taking up what MJ now realized was his usual position, standing between his father and brother. He placed a hand on both their chests before turning to MJ. "Why don't you go shower and change? We're leaving soon."
MJ obeyed immediately; glad to have an excuse to get out of the room. She turned the shower on as soon as she had closed the bathroom door, trying to drown out the shouting.
When MJ emerged from the bathroom nearly an hour later, the yelling had subsided into a tense silence. Sam was on his laptop, carefully avoiding his father's occasional gaze in his direction. John seemed to have only stuck around so he could say goodbye to her, and after a quick hug with MJ and a handshake with his sons, he walked out without so much as a backward glance.
They were all silent for several minutes, the only sound Sam clacking away at the keyboard, until Dean cautiously approached him. "You gotta try and see it his way, Sammy."
"No, Dean, I don't. Just drop it." Sam snapped, not looking up.
Dean put his hands up in surrender. "Fine." He grabbed his jacket and keys off the table. "I'm gonna go grab some dinner, gas up the Impala. MJ, you wanna ride along?"
MJ shook her head. "No, thanks." She answered quietly.
He shrugged and headed to the door, but stopped with his hand on the knob, looking back at his sister. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." She snapped.
"Fine. Be ready to go when I get back." Dean left, mumbling something about pain in the ass younger siblings.
MJ flipped on the TV, absently scanning through the channels, not really looking for anything. She noticed Sam was getting more and more agitated as time went by. About twenty minutes after Dean left, Sam abruptly snapped the computer closed and stood. "I'm going for a run." He announced, heading into the bathroom and quickly changing. He emerged a minute later, grabbing his sneakers and hastily putting them on. "Stay inside 'til Dean gets back." He said and walked out the door.
MJ packed all of their bags, neatly folding her clothes while she thought about John's grand plan. She had nearly gotten sick when he insisted she was going to live with random strangers. She tried to focus on the fact that Sam and Dean, at least, seemed to want her around and were willing to stand up to John to keep her with them. Yeah, that's great, but why doesn't your actual father want to keep you? That thought plagued her as she searched the bathroom for her toothbrush. She certainly hadn't chosen for Wendy to skip town. She had no control over that. And it wasn't like she had bothered John over the years like other kids did, begging their parents for money and cars and gifts. In fact, she had never asked John for a single thing her entire life. She rifled through her duffle, wondering if she had already packed the stupid toothbrush and forgotten… 'If I had known Wendy had taken off I would've been here in a heartbeat'. She laughed bitterly to herself. Yeah, right, Dad. That's real easy to say when it's all said and done. MJ began tearing the neatly folded garments out of the bag and tossing them aside. When the bag was empty and she still had no toothbrush, irrational anger and rage took over and she cocked her arm back and pounded her fist into the wall. The wall came out pretty much unscathed, but she definitely felt something snap in her hand and let out an involuntary whimper.
She held her injured hand close to her chest, her eyes swimming in tears as she looked around at the mess she'd made. That's when she spotted the denim skirt lying on the floor in a heap. It was short. Ridiculously short. She had packed everything she owned the day Jenna had shown up at her door, which hadn't been much. She had tossed most of it after Dean took her shopping, but she loved the skirt and couldn't part with it. The truth was, she knew her butt looked really good in it, so unbeknownst to Dean she had kept it hidden away in her duffle. It hadn't seen the light of day in months. She picked it up off the floor and held it up in front of her, admiring it.
"It's high time I put you to good use." She said aloud.
Dean knew they could've easily grabbed dinner and gas once they were on the road, but he had needed some time on his own to process everything that had happened. He drove back toward the motel, trying hard to let go of his frustration and annoyance. He could understand his father's refusal to let them hunt the demon with him, but that didn't mean he liked it. Not only was he worried his father might do something reckless; he now had to endure Sam's extra bitchiness for the next God knows how long. He was also worried about how his father's sudden appearance and then quick departure would set MJ back. She had been doing pretty well all things considered. Something like this could really mess with the kid's head.
More than anything else he was pissed as hell and scared out of his mind over the possibility that something was after MJ. He wanted to cling to the idea that Wendy was just drugged out of her gourd and talking nonsense, but when was it ever that easy for them? He felt like they were pushing their luck, staying in Chicago any longer. With that thought in mind Dean sped up, now regretting leaving Sam and MJ alone at the motel.
Dean got no response when he knocked at the room door. Cursing quietly, he juggled the take out containers in one hand, digging the room key from his pocket with the other, wondering where MJ and Sam went. He had told them they were leaving, he thought annoyed.
"Hey." Sam said coming up behind Dean, slightly out of breath and drenched in sweat. "You're just getting back now?"
"I had some stops to make." Dean said handing the containers to Sam so he could unlock the door.
"Why didn't you just knock?"
"I did." Dean's stomach dropped. He gave Sam a panicked look before hurriedly unlocking and opening the door. He quickly scanned the room, taking in the clothes strewn all over the floor. Retrieving his gun from his waistband, Dean rushed to the bathroom, saw it was empty, and looked at Sam. "Where the hell is she?"
Sam shook his head at a loss. "I told her to stay inside."
Dean picked up the empty, discarded duffle bag. "Why the hell would you leave her alone?" He shouted.
"Why not? She stays alone all the time." Sam defended.
"Yeah, well not anymore." Dean said, checking his gun before tucking it safely back in his jeans at the small of his back. "Let's move." He said walking quickly past Sam and back out the door.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, after getting MJ's voicemail for the third time. He sped down the road, snapping the phone shut and tossing it aside.
"Calm down, man, I'm sure she's fine."
"Fine? She's missing, Sammy. That's not fine!" Dean said, staring straight ahead, a death grip on the steering wheel.
"Dean, she probably just took off. I mean she was upset."
"Yeah, well who tossed her stuff? And why wasn't our shit messed with?" Dean feared the worst. Whatever was after MJ had found her…his father was right, he couldn't keep her safe. He had screwed up.
"Dean, pull in here!" Sam shouted suddenly, causing Dean to slam on the brakes and make a quick left into the parking lot of a seedy looking bar.
"Why here?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. "It's the closest bar to the motel, and she was on foot." He reasoned.
"Why would she go to a place like this?" Dean asked. He wanted to find his sister, but not in a dump like this.
Dean grabbed another pistol from the trunk and handed it to Sam before heading toward the bar.
"Really?" Sam asked.
"I'm not taking any chances." Dean said, still walking quickly toward the bar. He noted half a dozen motorcycles parked close to the door. "Great." He said, his jaw clenching.
Dean walked through the door, scanning the crowd. The floor felt spongy under his feet and his shoes stuck with each step. Free Bird was playing on the Jukebox and every set of eyes in the place turned to stare at him when he walked in, closely followed by Sam. Dean was immediately aware that he and Sam were most likely not the only people in this place who were carrying weapons. The place was small and it took them only a matter of seconds to see MJ was not there. Dean would have been relieved not to come across his sister in this kind of place, if he wasn't so desperate to find her.
"She's not here." Sam said to him, sounding truly disappointed. Dean led them back toward the front door, glancing down a short hallway to the right of the bar where a door had just swung open. He felt several things at once when he saw MJ, wearing more make up than she was clothing, walk through the swinging door and stumble down the dimly lit hallway toward him, leaning on the grimy walls for support. Relief swept over him, quickly followed by shock at how she was dressed, and then rage at seeing she was clearly drunk. MJ stopped as she reached the bar, grabbing onto the edge to keep from falling over. She looked up, locking eyes with Dean. Dean saw a single tear slide down her face, a look of true devastation marring her features. He started to approach her, and stopped when he glanced again at the door she had come from. It was clearly marked "Men". He barely had time to process that before the door swung open once more and a man with a buzz cut, wearing a flannel and jeans made his way down the hallway. He was short, but built and he had a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he walked first past MJ, then Dean and Sam. Dean watched him approach a group of men. He nudged a younger looking guy to get his attention before leaning in close and whispering something in his ear. The other guy looked toward the bar, directly at MJ before breaking out in the same stupid smirk as his buddy. He looked impressed as he patted his friend on the back. Then the guy with the buzz cut got another guy's attention, this time openly pointing at MJ as he leaned in to talk to the man.
Dean had seen enough. He turned to Sam, who he saw was also watching all of this, a look of outrage on his face. "Take her to the car." Dean said to his brother. He walked away before Sam could argue. He grabbed an empty beer bottle off a table before approaching the group of men, who were now congratulating the guy with the buzz cut. Dean felt like he might explode with fury. He made a quick assessment of the group: There were four of them, two bigger, two smaller than him. Only one, the one with the buzz cut, looked like he might be any good in a fight on his best day, and right now he was drunk, as they all seemed to be. Dean knew that they were all most likely armed. Probably with knives, maybe even guns. He also knew he most likely would not come out of the fight unscathed, but he didn't care.
He took a deep breath as he drew level with the men, trying to play it cool.
"Dude." He said standing beside the man with the buzz cut, holding the empty bottle in front of him as if he were drinking it. "Were you just in the men's room with that red head?"
The man turned toward him, looking uncertain at first. After a moment, though he apparently couldn't resist sharing his conquest with yet another guy. His expression cleared and he leaned toward Dean, his smile broadening. "Oh, man what a firecracker. She looks young, but she ain't no good girl, 'cause shit if that weren't the best hummer I ever got."
The words had barely left the man's mouth before the bottle in Dean's hand made contact with his head. The man stumbled back, falling onto one of his friends, both of them landing on their asses on the filthy floor. Dean dropped the remnants of the now broken bottle as the other two men came at him.
Everything was a blur after that. Dean took a few fists to the face, busting open his lip. He got a couple shots in, although he didn't know who was on the receiving end. All the men were wearing flannel, and in the melee it was impossible to tell who was who. At some point Sam had come back inside and was fighting beside him. Somehow, two of the men ended up on the floor, and seemed to be either too drunk or injured-or a combination of the two- to get back up. Sam had the third man in a head lock. This left the man with the buzz cut for Dean, which suited Dean just fine. The man had a trickle of blood running down the side of his face, from where the bottle had made contact. He growled at Dean as he lunged forward toward him. Dean stepped to the side and grabbed the man by the arm, spinning him around and slamming his fist into his jaw. Dean didn't see the blade in the man's hand until he had swung his arm blindly toward Dean, catching Dean's left arm, leaving a neat slice across his bicep. Dean felt the searing pain, white hot in his upper arm, but didn't hesitate. He grabbed hold of the back of other man's collar, and slammed his face into the nearest table. The man crumpled into a heap at Dean's feet.
Dean looked down at the unmoving form on the floor, intent on giving him a solid kick to the stomach when Sam grabbed his uninjured arm and pulled him away.
"Dean, we gotta get out of here. Now." Sam said urgently, leading them to the front door amidst stares from the other patrons. Dean thought that this must not be so unusual for this place, since the faces staring at them wore looks of only mild interest. Dean threw one last glance over his shoulder, and was satisfied to see that the man was still lying on the floor, unmoving.
MJ stared at the floor, her arms crossed in front of her, tears streaming silently down her face. The comfort that she had felt during the ride back to the motel, Sam beside her, holding her close and wiping away her tears, was gone when they arrived at the room, dissipating when she sensed the tension and anger coming off of Dean. This was the reaction she had anticipated. She was ready for it, could deal with it. What hurt like a punch to the gut was the look she had caught on Sam's face before casting her eyes downward. It was unmistakable, unadulterated disappointment. She didn't dare look back up at them. One glance at their faces was enough. She would never forget those looks as long as she lived.
"You went to a bar alone, and escorted a complete stranger to the men's room?" Dean asked, standing over her, his arms crossed and his body rigid.
MJ made no response, still not looking up. Dean continued.
"And you had sex with him?" Dean's voice broke on the last word.
MJ's head shot up. "No!" She shouted, tears still flowing. "I didn't have sex with him!"
Dean took a step toward her, looking down at her. "Well what did you do then?"
MJ lowered her gaze back to the stained carpet. "Nothing."
"No, no. You didn't go in there to discuss politics. What were you doing, Mary Jane?"
"I don't want to say," she muttered quietly.
"What did you do!" Dean screamed.
MJ fixed him with a hateful glare.
"I blew him, okay?" she matched his volume, but couldn't infuse her voice with the anger Dean's exuded.
Dean's eyes went wide and Sam looked over at her with a look of total disbelief on his face.
No one spoke for a while until Sammy broke the silence. "Mary Jane." He whispered.
MJ thought the disgust in his voice might be enough to kill her.
Dean moved even closer to her, their toes now touching as he finally regained enough control to speak.
"What is wrong with you? How could you be so careless? Are you that fucking stupid?" He spoke in a deadly whisper.
Sam sat up straight, eyeing his brother warily. "Dean." He said sharply.
"I mean come on, that's pathetic and disgusting. Is that how your mother raised you? Going down on guys twice your age in public bathrooms?"
MJ was sobbing uncontrollably now, practically gasping for breath. Sam stood. "Dean, that's enough." He said taking a tentative step forward.
"Shit, if you're gonna give it up you might as well make some money doing it. You can join the family business and be a two bit whore just like your mother!" Dean spat, venom in his voice.
MJ stood, intent on pounding on Dean, no matter how little damage she could do. But before she was even on her feet, Sam had launched himself at his brother and knocked him to the floor. They wrestled around momentarily, MJ staring down at them in disbelief. After a few seconds Sam overtook Dean and straddling his waist, landed a hard right to Dean's jaw. Sam then stood, pointing a finger down at Dean, his breathing fast.
"Don't you ever talk to my sister like that again." He said evenly.
Dean just looked back up at him, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand. He sat up slowly, before kneeling and then getting painfully to his feet.
"Your sister, huh?" He asked.
Sam moved toward MJ, standing in front of her, nearly succeeding in blocking her from Dean's view.
"Yeah, that's right. My sister. Now get the fuck out of here."
"Oh, come on, Sammy, you can't be serious!" Dean shouted at his brother, taking a step toward Sam and MJ.
Sam shifted slightly, blocking Dean from getting to MJ.
"Get out, Dean." He answered calmly.
Dean sat on a park bench, half empty fifth of Jack in his hand. He stared off into the night, his thoughts racing. No matter where his mind went it always came back around to the image of MJ on her knees…his stomach turned, the whiskey threatening to resurface.
He heard the roar of the Impala's engine, but couldn't make himself look up. A few moments later he heard soft footsteps approaching him.
"Where's your bodyguard?" he asked sarcastically, knowing without looking up that MJ was standing a few yards away.
"Dean," she began brokenly, and it killed him to know he played any part in her hurting this much. "I'm so ashamed of myself. I have no excuse for what I did. It was a mistake," she sobbed and then took a deep breath trying in vain to control her voice. "And I wish I could take it back, but I can't. And I hate that you hate me. That kills me, Dean. All I ever wanted was your respect and trust, and I know I ruined that by doing this. I deserve to be hated." She sniffed, taking another breath. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I let you down." She turned and walked quickly back toward the car.
Sam watched his sister hastily make her way back toward him, her body wracked with sobs. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, cursing Dean for being so stubborn. When MJ was about halfway to the car, Dean abruptly stood, tossing down his bottle and following quickly after MJ a look of rage plain on his face.
Sam quickly got out of the car, not wanting to believe his brother would actually hurt MJ, but not able to sit idly by and take the chance. Dean reached her first, spinning her around without a word. He held her at arm's length for a few seconds, before silently pulling her toward him and wrapping his arms around her.
When Sam reached them he took in the telltale moisture making its way down his brother's cheeks. MJ was crying freely into Dean's shoulder. Dean looked at Sam and without a word said he was sorry for being an ass. Sam nodded back his acceptance. It was then that Sam realized the look of rage on Dean's face was not directed toward MJ, but toward Dean himself.
As he drove down the highway just east of Des Moines, Iowa, John wrestled with the desire to call Dean and make sure they had made it out of Chicago. He hated not knowing where they were, whether they were okay. But he also knew that any contact between them just made it easier for the demon to get to them. He thought about the careful half-truths he had told Dean, hoping he hadn't revealed too much. He didn't want to lie to them, but, really, until he knew the whole truth and could explain it to them he had no choice but to keep them in the dark.
With a sigh he glanced down at Mary Jane's toothbrush, sitting on the seat beside him, and hoped to hell it gave him the answers he so desperately needed.