A/N: I couldn't leave for vacation with everyone mad at Dean...so here's a little Dean redemption. Short and sweet, but it moves things forward and gets us ready for the next adventure. Next chapter starts a new case:) Enjoy!

"Just so I'm clear," Sam began in a quiet voice. "Wendy called Dad and told him that something was after MJ, and that she had to leave her to keep her safe?"

Dean just nodded, looking down at the Impala from the balcony of their second floor motel room. Sam stood beside him, his back against the railing, arms crossed in front of him. Dean leaned further forward, allowing the railing to support most of his weight. Sam watched him closely. He looked tired. Dead tired. Sam had driven them out of Chicago after picking up Dean at the park. MJ had slept leaning against Dean in the back of the car for most of the four hour ride from Chicago. She was awake, but silent when they arrived at the motel, and quickly fell back to sleep once they were in the room. Once she was out, Sam and Dean had retreated to the balcony, leaving the sliding glass door open a crack. Dean had filled Sam in on everything John had told him before his hasty departure.

Sam glanced inside, through the glass door. He could make out MJ's profile in the bed closest to them, lying on her side, her back to them.

"And Dad thinks that something is a demon?" Sam continued.

Dean nodded again before turning toward Sam. "Sure sounds like one."

Sam was quiet for a moment, struggling with believing any of this. "She's a crack head, Dean. Maybe she just imagined it."

"Believe me, Sammy, I thought about that. But what if she's telling the truth? We have to assume this is a real threat."

Sam let out a long, slow breath, running a hand through his hair. "We have to be more careful. Keep closer tabs on her." Sam said to himself, staring at MJ through the door. He turned to Dean, something else occurring to him, making him feel even more on edge. "Why the hell didn't you tell me this right away?"

Dean straightened up, leaning back against the rail. He threw his hands up. "I don't know. I was pissed and overwhelmed and…it was just so much all at once. I mean, just seeing him there when we didn't even know if he was-" Dean turned back around, looking out over the parking lot below. "I just needed some time to sort through it all, I guess."

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, well, if you had told me before I never would have left her alone, Dean." Sam said, irritation and anger clear in his voice. "She wouldn't have gone out and-"

Dean quickly turned taking a step toward Sam. "Don't you think I know that, Sammy?" He was close enough that Sam could see the bruise forming at his jawline and his slightly swollen lip. Only the latter was from the bar fight, the former, Sam had inflicted on him. Sam's eyes shifted to the right, not wanting the reminder of what happened earlier tonight that led him to hit his brother. His eyes landed on Dean's left arm, where the bandage Sam had put there was already soaking through with blood. It had needed stitches, but by the time Sam got to it, it was far too late. He had bandaged it up the best he could. Sam's irritation dissipated as Dean's gaze followed Sam's.

"You're bleeding." Sam said unnecessarily.

Dean took a step back, his right hand pressed against the bandaged wound. Sam watched his brother closely, as Dean sank down into one of the patio chairs. He looked down at his feet. "I keep thinking about that letter. The one McWhorter wrote?" Dean looked up at Sam who nodded. Dean took a deep breath and continued. "When Jenna read that to us, I thought 'No way I'd ever say something so awful to her, call her those names.'" He looked back down, a humorless chuckle falling from his lips. "And now here I am. I'm that guy." He looked up and Sam could see unshed tears shining in his eyes. "I went there, and Sammy I can never take it back." He shook his head, clearly disgusted with himself.

Sam sat in the other chair, facing Dean. He made no response. He had been shocked and angry with Dean for saying such horrible things to their sister, but he knew, the moment it happened, that Dean would regret it instantly. That Dean would judge himself far more harshly than anyone else would.

Dean slammed his fist into the arm of the chair, before standing abruptly. "God! I was just…so pissed at her for putting herself in danger like that. Everything just boiled up inside me: Dad coming back and trying to take her, Wendy and this demon business, Biz…all of it and I just- I just went off."

Sam stayed quiet, letting his brother vent. When he seemed to be finished Sam cleared his throat.

"Do you know why I kicked you out of that motel room tonight, Dean?" Sam asked calmly.

"Because I deserved it." Dean answered matter-of-factly.

"Sam forged on as if he hadn't heard Dean. "Because I knew you'd regret what you said and I didn't want you to make it any worse for yourself." Sam stood, facing Dean. Dean was looking anywhere but at Sam as he spoke. "Dean, I was just as angry and disappointed with her as you were. But she knew before she did any of it that it was stupid and reckless. That was the point."

Dean's head snapped up and he locked eyes with Sam. "What? To get herself hurt?" Dean asked skeptically.

Sam nodded. "You just said yourself that you were pissed and overwhelmed after Dad showed up. Imagine how she was feeling, Dean. She didn't know how to deal with it so she tried to distract herself."

"With booze and random hook ups?" Dean asked, still not buying it.

Sam shrugged. "It's what she knows." He said quietly. He bit his lip, knowing there was no turning back now.

Dean took a step toward Sam. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" It was clearly an effort for him to keep his voice quiet.

Sam took a deep breath, knowing this conversation was long overdue, but wishing he could put it off indefinitely. "Dean, her life before she was with us, I think it was worse than she's letting on. Worse even than what Jenna or anyone else knows." Sam looked down, rubbing at his forehead before looking back up. "Worse than we could imagine."

"Worse how?" Dean asked quickly.

"Well for starters I think she lied to us last night about her mother trading her for drugs." Sam said. When Dean made no response, he continued. "Come on, man, we've been lying to ourselves. We've known for a while that she went through some horrible things that she's not telling us about. I mean, the nightmares, the shit that Biz said." Sam sat back down. "You saw firsthand the way she was living." Sam leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "We'd be stupid to think she skated through unscathed."

He didn't look up, but knew Dean was watching him closely. He knew this was uncomfortable for Dean, that his brother was content to go on pretending everything was fine, but if they did that, these kinds of things would just keep happening.

They were silent for a while, Dean standing with his back to Sam, gripping the balcony railing as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. When he finally spoke Sam could hear the tears in his voice. "This is what Jenna was trying to warn me about. When I first went to get MJ she showed me that shithole room so I would see just how bad things were for the kid." He took a deep breath, swallowing audibly before continuing. "But all I could think about was making sure she was in one piece. I thought if she was…physically okay then everything would be fine. I didn't want to think about what she might have gone through…what the nightmares were about." He shook his head. "God, Sammy, there's times when she seems so…"

Sam got up from his chair and walked toward Dean, standing beside him. "Normal?" he suggested.

Dean hastily wiped the tears from his face, turning toward Sam. "How could a kid go through…all of that and come out on the other side able to function at all?"

"Because she's strong. She's a fighter. Hell, she's a Winchester. We can't function unless we're in crisis. She did what she had to do to survive."

Dean shook his head. "I just wanted so bad for her to be okay, ya know? I could've prevented all of this if I'd just been willing to see it."

Sam was shaking his head before Dean had finished speaking. "This isn't on you, man."

Dean stood up straight, turning and leaning on the railing, looking inside at a sleeping MJ. "Maybe not what happened, but what I said to her…that sure didn't help anything." He said, disgust evident in his voice. He grunted in frustration. "I didn't mean any of it, Sam. I was just pissed off."

"Dean," Sam said sharply, making Dean pry his eyes away from their sister and look over at him. "You're telling it to the wrong person, here."

Dean woke early the following morning, his first conscious thought was that he should quickly get dressed and take off before his siblings awoke. He was dreading having this conversation with MJ. He and Sam had agreed last night that they had to confront her about everything this morning. Great. The only thing he could imagine being more awkward and uncomfortable would be trying to apologize to her for being a total asshole, and of course, he would have to do that, too. There was no way he could put it off. He felt horrible, but he really doubted anything he said to her would make it suck any less for either one of them.

Dean rolled over, finding Sam and MJ still fast asleep in the other bed, Sam's arm draped protectively over their sister. Dean's stomach clenched as the sight before him triggered the memory of last night. MJ had woken up crying and called out for Sam. That had never happened. She had always looked for Dean when she was frightened. Dean sat up, running a hand through his hair. He quietly made his way into the bathroom, showering and dressing quickly. When he emerged twenty minutes later, MJ was sitting up in bed, her hair sticking out around her face in every direction. She was yawning and rubbing her eyes, making her look ten-years-old again. She stretched her arms above her head, stopping short when she realized Dean was watching her. She dropped her arms quickly, averting her eyes.

Dean walked slowly toward her. "Where's Sammy?" he asked, retrieving his boots and sitting down on the other bed to put them on.

She shrugged. "Don't know. He was gone when I woke up." She said quietly, picking feathers from the down pillow, still not looking at Dean.

Dean finished putting on his boots, letting out a long breath as he stood and moved to her bed, sitting down next to her. "We need to talk." He said.

MJ looked up at him, but said nothing. Dean could see from the look on her face that she was feeling ashamed of herself, and scared of where this was going.

"MJ," He began, taking a deep breath. "I am so sorry for what I said to you last night. I was way out of line."

"No, Dean, it's okay. You were right." She said quietly, staring down at her hands, still picking feathers from the pillow.

Dean reached out, taking hold of her chin and pulling it up so she was looking at him. He left his hand there, cupping her face. "I was wrong, Mary Jane. You're not stupid or disgusting." He shook his head. "Or any of the other things I called you." He released his hold on her, taking her hand in his instead. "I am so mad at you for doing that to yourself…putting yourself in danger like that. But I don't hate you, MJ. I never could."

MJ made no response, staring down at their entwined hands.

"You have to talk to us, MJ. Tell us what happened when you were with Wendy. No more lies, understand? I know it's hard to talk about it, but it'll kill you if you don't."

MJ was crying freely now, tears rolling down her cheeks. She shook her head quickly. "I can't."

"You have to." Dean answered simply, but firmly. "I know you want to pretend it never happened, believe me I understand that. But you can't…we can't keep doing that." Dean watched her closely waiting for her to respond. She was still crying, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. She looked up at him, and Dean's heart broke at the look on her face. Defeat, anguish and shame were all there in equal measure.

"I don't know how to-" her voice hitched as she let out another sob. "I don't-" She tried again, and again couldn't get the words out.

"Did you lie about Wendy trading you for drugs?" Dean asked evenly, not an accusation, just a question.

She made no response for several moments, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Eventually, she gave a quick nod. That one quick movement made Dean feel instantly sick to his stomach. "Twice." She said, barely more than a whisper.

Dean's jaw was clenched, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew he couldn't go ballistic. He had to stay calm so she wouldn't clam up again. He took a deep breath. "What did they do?" He couldn't keep the outrage and disgust from his voice, try as he might.

She pulled her hand from his, wrapping her arms around herself. "Dean, please." She begged.

"MJ, I don't want to hear it any more than you want to say it, but you have to tell me." She stayed quiet, hanging her head, her eyes on the floor. He tried to be patient, but after a minute or more of silence he couldn't take it anymore. "Mary Jane." He prompted.

She took a breath, releasing it slowly. "We didn't have any money, and she needed a fix. My mom made deals with them. I…did them favors and they gave her the drugs."

Dean ran a hand over his face. He had to look away from MJ, couldn't stand to see the look on her face as she spoke. "Favors?" he asked quietly, staring down at his hands, balled into fists at his sides.

She shook her head, Dean catching the movement out of his peripheral vision. "They didn't have sex with me. I just…did other…stuff for them."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard not to think about what the "stuff" might have consisted of, although he had a pretty good idea. He turned to her. "How old were you?"

"The first time twelve. The second time was right before she disappeared."

"Is that what the nightmares are about?"

He saw the uncertainty in her eyes before she nodded, looking up at him.

Dean scooted closer to her, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "You have nothing to be ashamed about, ya know. This wasn't your fault."

She nodded, but Dean could see she wasn't buying it.

Dean let out an audible breath. "Here's the deal, kiddo. What you did last night, that never happens again, understood?"

She nodded.

"Promise me, Kid."

"I promise."

"You were upset about everything with Dad, Sammy and I get that, but from now on you come to us when you're sad or pissed or whatever. You yell at me or break things or punch Sammy, whatever it takes." This earned him a small smirk from her. "But you never, under any circumstances are to put yourself in danger like that again."

She looked up at him. "Okay."

"And I have to talk to Jenna about this."

"Yeah, I know." She said, sounding resigned to that fact.

"And you're going to start seeing a therapist again."

She rolled her eyes. "Dean-"

He held his hand up, silencing her. "It's non-negotiable."

Dean stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Now once your coward of a brother gets back from wherever he's hiding, we'll go get breakfast and talk about your new rules."

MJ raised an eyebrow at him. "Rules?" She asked warily.

He nodded putting his hand out to her. She took it and he hauled her up off the bed. "Dad was right about one thing. We need to be more strict with you. You've got it far too easy."

This earned him another eye roll. "Oh, yes," She said gesturing to the room around her. "I'm clearly spoiled rotten, living in the lap of luxury." She said sarcastically.

Dean chose to ignore this. "Go get ready. So we can hit the road when Sammy gets back."

She gathered up her bag without further argument, heading toward the bathroom. She stopped and hesitated just outside the bathroom door.

"What?" Dean asked.

She stood there another moment before turning and walking back to Dean, wrapping her arms around him.

Dean was surprised, but returned the hug, squeezing her tightly to him. "What was that for?" Dean asked when she pulled away.

She shrugged. "I know I'm a pain in the ass sometimes. Just-thanks for putting up with me."

Dean smiled. "Right back at ya, Kid."