A/N: Howdy! Thanks for the reviews. You guys are the best. Enjoy!
MJ was no fool. Even though Dean was trying to act as if everything was fine, she knew he was still angry with her, and she was pretty sure she knew why. He wanted to know what her dream had been about. What had been so horrible that she had physically attacked him in her sleep? As they drove on toward Lincoln, the car silent with the exception of Sam typing away on his laptop and Dean singing off key back up for Ozzy Osbourne, MJ surreptitiously watched her eldest brother. She couldn't wrap her head around his logic. He was pissed over the whole guy in the bar thing, and she totally understood why. She had deserved his wrath – and then some- for what she had done. But he had apologized to her; given her some new rules and that had been that. She could see that he was over it and moving on. But this deal with her nightmares…he just wouldn't let it go. She wondered as she watched him what he hoped to accomplish by nagging her to talk to him about it. Did he really think that if he knew all the gory details he could fix it? The sad truth was that she was broken beyond repair, and telling him about it wouldn't put her back together, it would only break him into a million pieces, too.
When they next stopped for gas and a bathroom break, MJ hung back, pretending to search for something in her bag.
"Go ahead, Sammy. I'll catch up." Sam nodded and headed inside while Dean began pumping gas. MJ strolled around to the driver side of the car, leaning against the fender. She crossed her arms, her eyes surveying Dean with a thoughtful stare.
He finally turned toward her, his expression cautious. "What?"
"You're pissed at me." She said simply.
Dean only shrugged in response, returning his attention to the gas pump.
MJ straightened up, taking a tentative step closer to him. "It's never gonna happen, Dean." She told him, her shoulders set and her eyes unyielding as she looked at her brother.
He whipped his head back around to face her. "What's never gonna happen?"
She shook her head, a mirthless smile on her face. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You want me to learn to trust you. Fine, I get that. And I'm trying Dean, I really am. But there's just some things that I'm not willing to do."
"Like?" Dean asked. She could see the barely contained anger in his eyes.
"Like spilling my guts to you about every little thing that happened to me growing up. Like running to you every time I have a bad dram and giving you the play by play. That's not me, Dean. Never will be."
Her eyes never wavered as she stared him down. He finished filling up the tank and replaced the nozzle in the pump before turning toward her. He pointed a finger in her face. "I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong, Mary Jane."
MJ took another step, closing the small gap between them. Her arms were still folded, but her eyes had softened. Her anger had given way to sadness and appreciation. Dean meant well after all, she reminded herself. But it didn't change anything.
"You can't help me. Period. End of story." She paused swallowing. "Even if you knew every last detail, you can't help. You just- you can't."
She looked down at her feet and started walking toward the store. She looked up to see Sam coming toward her, three coffees in hand. He gave her a funny look just as she felt strong hands on her shoulders, spinning her around. She was face to face with Dean. She couldn't quite read his expression. The scratch marks were bright pink against his skin, and MJ felt a pang of guilt at how deep they looked.
Dean took a deep breath, before he leaned toward her, his eyes showing nothing but determination as he clutched her shoulders, almost painfully.
"Watch me." He said in a stern voice. With that he relinquished his hold on her and stalked off toward the store. He stopped after a few steps and turned back toward her, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "Good talk." He said, before turning and continuing on his way.
Sam walked over to her. "What was that all about?" He asked, handing her a coffee.
MJ just shrugged, but on the inside she was cringing. She had deciphered Dean's expression. It read: Game on.
"Gentlemen." The police chief, a man in his early forties stood in front of them, a polite smile on his face. He looked like a no-nonsense type of guy. MJ hoped that her brothers picked up on this and that Sam did most of the talking. She could tell that Dean's sarcasm and poor attempts at humor wouldn't get them far with this type.
Dean walked beside the chief as he led them to his office, Sam and MJ following closely in their wake. The chief ushered them inside the office and gestured toward the three chairs in front of his desk.
"So, what can I do for you, agents-?"
"Oh uh, Special Agent Plant," Sam said pulling out his badge before gesturing toward Dean, "and this is Special Agent Page and our college intern Maureen Nalle."
MJ smiled her steno book and pen at the ready in her lap. The chief nodded his head in her direction, but his gaze stayed on her brothers.
"Chief Carr." He introduced, shaking Sam and Dean's hands. "Well, my sergeant said you were looking for information on the Susan McAdams case?" He clarified as he took a seat as well.
"Yes, and the Adrian Dunham and Valerie Samson deaths also." Sam said.
Chief Carr's head shot up. He looked back and forth between Sam and Dean curiously. "I'm sorry, but I'm not clear as to why the FBI has an interest in these deaths. Sure, the circumstances are similar, but these deaths just aren't suspicious. It's not likely that it's the work of the same killer. At least not the same human killer." The chief said, clasping his hands on his desk and fixing Sam and Dean with a determined look.
Sam and Dean shared a glance before turning back toward the chief. "Not-not human?" Dean asked.
"Full blood toxicology screens are being done on all three. I think these young women were experimenting with some new drug, got carried away and went into cardiac arrest. So, yeah I think the same thing killed them, but beyond that they're not connected. So if you guys are here thinking you've got some super human serial killer on your hands, sorry to disappoint. Just your everyday, run of the mill drug overdoses." He said with a note of finality in his voice.
MJ tried and failed to stifle a disbelieving scoff as she scribbled down fake notes. When she looked up she saw that the chief's stare fixed on her, a scowl on his face.
"You disagree Miss Nalle?"
"What? No, I'm sorry. Please continue."
Chief Carr leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, no. Clearly you have something to say. By all means, enlighten us."
MJ hesitated, looking back at the chief. She glanced at Sam, whose expression was telling her to tread carefully. She let out a slow breath, shrugging.
"Well, its just-three overdoses in ten days' time? And I've never heard of someone's heart exploding from an overdose." MJ said. The chief stayed quiet for a while, fixing her with a clearly annoyed look. His eyes were boring into her and she cleared her throat, looking back down at her notes.
When he finally spoke, his voice was stern, his tone edging toward anger. "So what you're saying is, in your 20 years of life, two whole years of college and oh, zero years of crime investigation, you've never come across an OD victim who went into cardiac arrest?"
"No, I'm just saying-"
"That your vast experience tells you that these are murders?" Chief Carr interrupted, still fixing her with that pissed off look. "Tell me, Ms. Nalle what is your theory?"
MJ bit her cheek to keep herself from giving him her real theory – along with her not so flattering opinion of him – and gave him what she hoped was a benign look while furiously clicking her pen repeatedly.
Sensing victory, Chief Carr leaned back in his chair, and turned toward Dean and Sam. "I recommend you keep your little helper here on a shorter leash, gentlemen."
Dean visibly bristled. "Come again?" He demanded angrily, beginning to get up out of his chair. Sam placed a hand quickly on his older brother's shoulder, pushing him back down into his chair.
"Sorry about that, sir." Sam said, "I'm sure you're right about the deaths, but we still need to follow up. Orders." He explained. "We'll just take the case files and be on our way."
Chief Carr picked up a thick manila folder from the edge of his desk and tossed it down in front of Sam. "That's the McAdams file. I had it ready because I had a feeling the feds would stick their noses into this. The other victims lived outside of the Lincoln city limits so Lancaster County Sheriff's handled them. I'll inform them that you'll be needing their files as well and have them sent to your hotel." He stood, looking down at Sam as if he were trying to stare him down. "But I'm telling you it's a waste of time. Those deaths were all accidental and there's nothing more to it." He walked to the door and opened it, standing to the side. He said nothing further, but only stood there, rigid, waiting for them to file out.
Dean strode out of the office quickly, his face red, not sparing Chief Carr so much as a glance on his way by. Sam followed MJ out, giving the chief a quick nod of thanks as he passed him.
"Douche bag." Dean muttered as they walked across the street to where the Impala was parked. "It never ceases to amaze me the lengths civilians will go to convince themselves that the paranormal don't exist." Dean said, climbing into the driver's seat.
"Well, when you live your life believing some things aren't real, you'll do just about anything to ignore the evidence that's right in front of your face." Sam said, fastening his seatbelt. "Anyway, I'd rather the police were backing off. Makes it easier for us to do our jobs."
"Yeah, Sammy's right," MJ offered from the backseat. "Plus what a complete dick wad, huh?"
"No argument here." Dean agreed, pulling away from the curb.
"Okay, Susan McAdams, 28, lived here with her boyfriend, Tom Ellis. He wasn't home the night she was killed." Sam read from the file, sitting on Susan's bed in her two bedroom apartment. "Body was found over there by the window." Sam said, getting up and walking toward the window.
MJ was crouched down in front of the sill, running her hands over the damaged plaster and dented wood. "Look at this, Sam. Someone was pounding on this window with all they were worth. Broke right through the sheetrock, but didn't even chip the glass." She turned toward Sam, who was inspecting the damage as well. "It's like she completely missed the window. No one's aim is that bad."
Dean entered the room, sweeping the EMF meter in an arc in front of him. It began to whine frantically as soon as he crossed the threshold into the bedroom. Dean backed up into the hallway again, and the meter quieted. He moved forward again and the high pitched noise resumed.
"Bingo." Dean said moving into the bedroom and walking around, all the while the readings remaining high. "Something was definitely here."
MJ wandered over to the closet, looking inside. "What the hell?" She muttered, pulling out a sweater with a large gash across the front, nearly cutting it in half. MJ rifled through the remaining clothes and found that most everything was torn and slashed beyond repair. She inspected the clothing in the dresser, which was all neatly folded, despite also being ripped and torn.
"To the left, to the left. Everything you own in the box to the left. In the closet, that's my stuff. Yes, if I bought it, please don't touch." She sang quietly as she began to inspect the dirty clothes hamper, finding that everything there was ruined as well. "And keep talkin' that mess, that's fine. Could you walk and talk at the same time?" She looked up to find her brothers giving her identical half amused, half disbelieving looks.
"What?" She asked innocently.
"What the hell are you singing?" Dean asked.
"Beyonce." She answered with a shrug. "It just popped into my head." Dean was looking at her like her singing had offended him. "What? You can butcher Zeppelin for six hours straight, but I can't sing one pop song?"
Dean shook his head, and Sam just smirked and went about his business. They searched the rest of the apartment. MJ, finding the song was still firmly stuck in her head, hummed the tune while they worked.
"Were the clothes she was wearing when she was found torn up, too?" Dean asked as he relocked the apartment door.
Sam skimmed the police report, MJ and Dean standing beside him in the deserted hallway.
"Yeah, says her shirt and shorts were both shredded."
"So whatever it is locks them in, rips up their clothes and blows their hearts to pieces? That's weird, even by our standards." Dean commented.
"Okay we have one witness. Patrick King, apartment 2C. Should be just down the hall." Sam pointed to his left. MJ turned to make her way down the corridor and was suddenly bowled over by a giant hairy beast. She landed on her back, with heavy paws on her chest pinning her down. She was too shocked to even scream. She looked up into the excited, dopey eyes of the most massive brown dog she'd ever seen.
"Tyson, no! Get off her!" She heard someone shout. The dog tilted his head to the side, considering her carefully, before licking her quickly, his giant tongue soaking her face from chin to forehead.
"Ugh!" She yelled, but couldn't help grinning. This dog was freaking adorable.
A man appeared, standing over her, securing a leash to the massive animal. "Tyson, off, now!" He yelled, pulling the dog back. Once she was freed from the dog's hold, Sam hauled MJ to her feet. She quickly wiped the slobber from her face, looking over the man standing in front of her, still trying to maintain control of the dog. He had curly brown hair and his face was bright red with embarrassment. He was wearing sweats and an Under Armour shirt, like he was heading out for a jog. MJ thought he should wear the outfit daily, regardless of what activity he had planned. Once Tyson seemed sufficiently controlled, the man looked up, an apologetic smile on his face.
"I'm really sorry. Are you okay?" He asked, and MJ saw real concern in his eyes.
She nodded, feeling her own face burning. "Yeah, fine. Don't worry about it."
The man reached down, placing a hand on Tyson's giant head. "Tyson gets excited when there's visitors. Plus, he's been acting whacky ever since-" He paused, glancing to Susan McAdams's apartment door, mere feet from where MJ was standing. "Are you with the police?" He asked in disbelief.
"Huh?" MJ asked stupidly, before remembering she was indeed supposed to be with the FBI. "Oh, yeah. I'm looking into Susan McAdams' death."
Dean cleared his throat loudly from behind her and she jumped. She had forgotten her brothers were even there.
"We're looking into her death." MJ reluctantly corrected.
Dean stepped forward, level with MJ, sizing up the man. He flashed his badge, Sam following suit. "Did you know the victim, Mr.-"
"King. Patrick King." He shrugged, directing his response toward MJ. "She moved here in January. Tim moved in a couple months ago. Talked to him more than her, but they were quiet, pretty much kept to themselves."
"Your statement to the local police said you heard a disturbance last Friday evening coming from Ms. McAdams' apartment?" Sam verified, reading from the file.
Patrick nodded. "Well, Tyson was going nuts so I went to take him out and he ran to Susan's apartment door and just started whining. I was trying to pull him away when this…ridiculously loud music started playing inside. Like, loud. But I thought I could hear someone screaming, too. I knocked and yelled, but I don't think anyone could hear me over the music. Then it just stopped and I didn't hear anything at all. I knocked again but no one answered. That's when I called the police."
MJ was watching Patrick closely, and saw sadness and concern in his eyes. "Do you know what happened to her?" He asked.
"I'm sorry, but it's still under investigation." Sam said.
"Thanks for your time. We won't keep you any longer." Dean said, clearly a dismissal.
Patrick nodded, pulling Tyson toward the front door.
"Well, if you think of anything else, give us a call." MJ said, handing him a business card. Patrick took it, smiling at her.
"Aren't you a little young for an FBI agent?" He asked.
MJ returned his smile. "Intern, actually. Public Justice major" She explained.
"I'm a Public Justice major at UN Lincoln." He said. "Wow, FBI. That must be a tough internship to land. Pretty impressive."
"Oh, thanks." She said, waving off the compliment.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Hey, buddy, I think your dog really has to go. You'd better get outta here before he can't hold it any longer."
"Huh?" Patrick said, reluctantly turning toward Dean before looking down at Tyson. "No, I think he's okay."
"Dude, hit the road." Dean ordered. MJ glared at him.
"Okay." Patrick said, looking crestfallen. He turned back to MJ. "I didn't catch your name."
"Oh. Maureen Nalle."
"Well, nice meeting you, Maureen." He said, shaking her hand again, much to Dean's annoyance. "Good luck."
"You, too." MJ said, smiling after him as he left, pulling Tyson along behind him.
After he was gone, MJ turned toward Dean. "You're so rude." She said before heading toward the door.
"What? We were wasting valuable time, shooting the shit. We got places to be." Dean defended.
MJ just shook her head as they made their way to the Impala.
"What's next? The boyfriend?" Dean asked, placing the key in the ignition.
"Guess so. Then we can go to the hotel and see if the other files are there yet." Sam answered, fastening his seatbelt.
MJ nearly jumped out of her skin when Dean started the car and the radio blared.
To the left, to the left
Everything you own in the box to the left
In the closet, that's my stuff
Yes, if I bought then please don't touch
Dean quickly reached out, clicking the radio off. "What the hell?" He shouted, looking over his shoulder at MJ, clearly irritated.
"What?" She asked. Dean just looked at her, his eyes clearly accusing her. "I didn't do that. I was with you!"
"Well I didn't leave it like that." Dean argued.
"I didn't mess with your precious car, Dean." MJ defended.
Dean opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Sam.
"Dean, let it go." Sam said, leveling a look at his brother.
Dean closed his mouth, putting the car in drive and easing away from the curb.
MJ couldn't shake the strange feeling she got when she heard that song playing.