A/N: Hello, hello! Okay, a few important notes before we get to it! I changed this a little, so Dean and Sam got the Colt from John when he tracked them down in Chicago. MJ didn't know about it, and she finds out in this chapter. I also didn't include some of the action sequences from the actual Devil's Trap episode. I'm operating under the assumption that all of my readers have seen the episode and know what happens with Meg and then in Jefferson City when they rescue John. Lastly, there will be one more chapter to this story after this one. I am not ending this story where Season 1 ends. You'll see why;) If I have confused anyone please feel free to inquire. As always, thank you so much for reading. Enjoy!
"Hey little girl, is your daddy home? Did he go and leave you all alone?" A deep voice sang close to MJ's ear. It was somehow familiar, and yet she couldn't place it.
"Come on, Angel. Open your eyes." He whispered so close to her ear that she could feel his warm breath on her skin.
Her eyes fluttered open, her lids feeling heavy and her vision a little foggy, cluing her into the fact that she wasn't really awake.
Okay, so she was dreaming, but something felt off. This was not a normal dream.
She scanned the room around her, discerning shapes through the misty fog. She was in Bobby's living room, on the couch. She could make out the shape of a man. He was standing, facing her, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a t-shirt, and yet something in his posture made her think this was not his typical wardrobe. He took a few steps toward her, only working to convince her further that he was more sophisticated and powerful than his casual clothes suggested.
He approached her slowly, almost cautiously, and MJ was able to make out his face. He was young, maybe just a couple years older than Sammy. And despite the fact that her heart was jumping in her chest from fear and that she knew this was some weirdly lifelike dream, she couldn't help but notice that he was attractive. His face all sharp angles, defined cheek bones and masculine jawline. His hair was long, chin length, and lighter than Dean's. She stared up at him, not able to look away from that face.
When he reached the couch he knelt down in front of her. He stared at her, his eyes roving over her, not in a sexual way, but more like he was trying to take it all in…memorize every detail of her. He took a slow breath before looking into her eyes.
"Hello, Mary Jane. It's been a long time. Too long, in fact." He said in a honey smooth voice that matched his demeanor.
MJ lifted her head slightly from the pillow, but made no other attempt to move. She knew this was a dream. And she was equally aware that this man was not her ally. Experience had taught her not to assume anything, so she had to expect that he could hurt her, even in her subconscious.
"This is just a dream." She said in a harsh whisper, not really a question, but also not really convinced it was true.
He nodded slowly. "It is a dream," He answered placing a hand on her cheek. His palm was warm and calloused. "You know who I am, don't you?"
And although she couldn't really put her finger on it, she did know him. Without a doubt. His face, his voice, his body…none of it was familiar in the least. But his demeanor, his words, and the way he seemed to know her so intimately…it made him as familiar to her as her brothers. She nodded slowly, inciting a wide smile from him. He moved his hand to her head, brushing her hair back, away from her face. "I knew you would," he said, pride clear on his face, "Even in this body, I knew you'd know me. How could you not?"
MJ slowly sat up, her eyes never wavering from his face. "Why are you here? In my dream?" She asked.
He straightened, sitting beside her on the couch, turning toward her. "I needed to speak to you. And I can't find you." He shook his head slowly looking down, away from her questioning gaze. "I should apologize for my behavior yesterday. I became enraged. I have no excuse, other than to tell you I only acted in such a disdainful manner because I so need you back." He looked back up at her, his eyes burning into hers. "I miss you. It's time for you to return to me."
MJ was transfixed by this strange man. She wanted to scream, to run away, to wake up, and yet all she could do was stare into those eyes.
When she remained silent he continued, in the same calm, even voice. "I'm not looking to hurt anyone. I need you to tell me where you are, and I will come get you." He took hold of her hand, squeezing gently. "I'll take care of you. Always."
MJ stared back at him for another moment before finding her voice. "I know you. But how do I know you?" She wasn't sure she was making any sense, but she was so confused. How could someone who she didn't know at all seem so familiar to her? Like someone she had known her entire life?
"I think you already know." He answered patiently. "I was there with you for most of your childhood. I would watch over you while you slept as an infant." He gave her hand a firm squeeze, taking a deep breath. "I had to leave when you were still growing. When you still needed me. But it couldn't be helped. When I was able to come back to you, I was too late. Your mother had already left you and I could no longer locate you and make sure you were being cared for." He looked down again, shaking his head. "I am sorry you have suffered. Truly, I am." His eyes met hers and she saw excitement and determination there. "But I'm here now. And you will suffer no more. You and I…we will be together. And you will achieve your full potential." He placed his hand under her chin. "And you will be happy." He promised. "All you have to do is tell me where you are and agree to come with me."
MJ felt the tears well in her eyes. "I've met you before." She choked out. "You used to talk to me. Keep me company when Mom left me alone." She swallowed a sob as the memories flooded back.
He nodded, the smile still on his lips. "Yes. Never in this form, but I did come to you. When you needed me. After all, it is my job. My purpose for living."
"You're a demon." She verified.
"I don't deny it."
She felt her pulse quicken. "Why me?" She asked, barely more than a whisper.
He slid off the couch, kneeling in front of her. "You must trust me." He begged in earnest, taking both her hands in his. "You and I are connected. You are a part of me. I created you, Mary Jane."
She shook her head, the tears now falling down her face. "You created me? What are you saying?"
He gripped her hands more tightly. His voice becoming more urgent. "You know you are special. And I can help you hone your gifts. Learn how to use them to keep yourself safe." He searched her face. "To keep your family safe."
She looked into his eyes. She didn't see deceit there but she also didn't see sincerity. All she saw was a burning need. A need for her to understand, to join with him.
He stood suddenly, looking down at her. His face remained calm, but his eyes were cold. "Mary Jane, the time is right for you to join me. It must be now. I cannot allow you the luxury of time to become accustomed to the idea. I know your brothers will fight to keep you from me. And I have no qualms about killing them, except that I know this would upset you. If you come with me of your own accord, you have my word that Sam and Dean will remain unharmed."
"Come with you where?" She squeaked.
"I brought you into this world nearly sixteen years ago knowing that you would grow to be incredibly powerful. I can help you use that power for good. You can help so many more people if you let me teach you how to control it."
She stared up at him for a long time. Finally she swallowed, looking into his burning gaze. "You're my father?"
MJ was woken abruptly by someone lifting her up off the couch. Her eyes flew open as she was swiftly carried up the stairs and into a bedroom. The dream was still fresh in her mind, but the tension in Dean's body was enough to alert her that something was up. Something big. The dream would have to wait.
"What's wrong?" She asked, now wide awake as Dean set her down on the bed, cringing, no doubt from the pain in his still injured leg.
"We got company." Dean answered, checking the salt lines at the windows and doorways.
MJ stood. "He's here?" She asked, her mind quickly running through the possibilities and landing on the demon who was after her, the demon from her dream.
Dean shook his head once, hand on the doorknob. "Meg."
"Meg? I thought she was dead?"
"Apparently it takes more than a fall from the fifth story to kill a demon." He raised a hand pointing at her. "Don't leave this room." He ordered, opening the door. "No matter what." He added, eyes locked on his sister.
"Dean-"
"No!" He interrupted urgently. "I don't have time to argue with you. We can deal with this, but I can't concentrate if I'm worried that you're in danger. I'm sorry, but I forbid you to leave this room. Got it?"
MJ fought the tears that were springing to her eyes. She nodded. "I'll stay here, but Dean-"
"I'll be careful, I promise. We'll be okay." He attempted a smile that came off as more of a grimace before walking out and pulling the door closed behind him.
Chicago, Illinois May 5, 2002
"Hey, Marijuana! Your head's on fire!" Donnie Landon called across the playground. The laughter started small, then grew, starting with the small knot of boys gathered around Donnie on the jungle gym then spreading out across the schoolyard. MJ suspected that most of them only laughed so as not to draw attention to themselves and become Donnie's new target.
MJ rolled her eyes, turning around to see Donnie lazily making his way toward her. She stood her ground, letting him come to her, hoping no one saw how her legs were shaking violently in her second hand jeans.
As if reading her thoughts, Donnie looked down at her legs when he reached her, snickering. "Nice pants. "He teased. "It's bad enough to be a ginger, Marijuana. But a poor ginger? That's just pathetic."
This was met with more laughter, and MJ could feel her face burn crimson.
"I bet your poor cause your Dad took off. He probably took one look at you and ran. Everyone knows Gingers' have no soul."
"Just like everyone knows Landon's have small penises." MJ retorted, her voice surprisingly even.
This stopped the laughter short, everyone turning to stare wide eyed at MJ. She had never said a single word back to Donnie, always quietly taking his abuse, silently praying for it to end soon.
After a few moments the laughter resumed, only this time they were laughing at him. MJ felt her confidence soar. Maybe she could pull this off.
Donnie's face was beet red. "What'd you say to me?" He demanded loudly, taking a step forward so his face was only inches from hers. He swiftly reached out, grabbing a fist full of her hair and yanking.
MJ knew this was her chance. What had Dean said to do first? She tried to remember. What seemed like minutes, was probably really only a few seconds before MJ stomped hard on Donnie's foot. When he stooped down in pain, releasing her hair, she punched him hard in the gut. When he doubled over, groaning, MJ didn't hesitate. She brought her knee up swiftly, smashing it into his nose. She heard a sickening crack before blood gushed out, and Donnie fell-hard-to the ground.
It was completely quiet on the playground now, with the exception of Donnie's muffled groans, issuing from behind his hands that were clasped tightly over his broken nose.
MJ stood over him, her chest heaving, staring down at him. She knew she'd be in trouble, but at that moment she felt something she'd never felt in her life: strong.
Her mother had lectured her the entire train ride home, but MJ didn't care. In fact, she had to fight to keep the victorious smile from returning to her face. She kept her head down, staring at her feet as they made their way into the apartment.
John met them in the living room.
"What the hell happened?" John demanded. She looked up at him. He looked angry. His arms were crossed in front of him and he was frowning down at her.
"I'll tell you what happened," Wendy ranted, dropping her purse onto the table. "She broke a kid's nose! And she got suspended for a week!"
Wendy looked up at John, waiting for him to admonish MJ for her bad behavior.
He was silent for a moment, considering MJ carefully. "Why?" He finally asked her.
MJ looked back down at her feet. "He was teasing me. Every day."
"Teasing you how?" John asked, taking a step closer to his daughter.
MJ shrugged.
"Mary Jane."
"He stole my lunch. And he kept pulling my hair and calling me names." She chanced a look up at him and found that he didn't look so angry anymore. She pressed on. "I was sick of it." MJ had never been disciplined by John. Mostly because she rarely did anything to warrant punishment. She didn't know what to expect, but she felt compelled to explain herself.
"John, what difference does it make. She beat the boy bloody!" Wendy fumed.
"Well, if she was only trying to protect herself…"
Wendy turned to MJ. "Go to your room." She ordered.
MJ quickly obliged, hearing Wendy lighting into John before MJ even had her door closed. She turned toward her bed, feeling suddenly exhausted, but stopped when she saw Dean seated on the edge. He was leaning forward, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped together. And his face was alight with what was unmistakable pride as he smiled at her.
MJ stood there, rooted to the spot, taking in every second of it. She had never seen that look on her mother or John's face before. Never.
"You did good, kid." He said quietly.
MJ smiled sheepishly back at him, her face growing flushed.
Dean stood, walking slowly past her to the door, ruffling her hair on his way by. MJ didn't turn, but heard the door close behind him and knew he had left. She closed her eyes, picturing that look on his face. She'd never forget that look. Never.
MJ felt like her head was spinning as they drove along the dark, dirt road to who knows where. With her father lounging next to her on the back seat, looking exhausted and near death, this felt more surreal than the dream she'd had earlier. She had lost the concept of time, somewhere outside of Jefferson City, shortly after they had rescued their father. She supposed it was the middle of the night, judging from how dark the sky was.
MJ watched John drifting in and out of consciousness. She studied him in the minimal light, trying to find the traits that she shared with him, that would prove she was his. The truth was that she didn't really know this man at all. He was never more than a visitor who brought her presents every now and then. He was absent more than not and he never really showed her any of the affection she saw bestowed upon her peers by their fathers. She was petrified that he might not be her father, but this was not because she loved this man like a father. She did love him, but she had no real attachment to him. No, she needed him to be her father, because if he wasn't then she was the child of a demon. And this she could not deal with. She could survive knowing that John didn't love her like he clearly loved his sons. She took this in stride, knowing that regardless of John's indifference toward her growing up, he and his boys were still her family. And what John lacked in attentiveness, Sam and Dean made up for. Not to suggest Dean was in any way paternal toward her when they would visit. On the contrary, being eleven years her senior, Dean would mope around, clearly annoyed his father had forced him to come along. He had no interest in bonding with a preschooler, and he went out of his way to make it known. But as the years wore on, Dean began to tolerate her, and the boys eventually would even include her as much as they could. When she was nine they had taught her to play Five Card Draw, much to John's dismay. When she was eleven Dean had shown her how to take down Donnie Landon, the giant bully who kept stealing her lunch. This had earned her a week's suspension despite having a squeaky clean record. Apparently being a model student didn't count for much when you broke another student's nose. She remembered the look on Dean's face when Wendy has relayed the news after picking her up from school. He had been so proud of her. She didn't think she'd ever forget that moment. This was the second reason MJ needed John to be her father. Because if he wasn't then Sam and Dean weren't her brothers. That possibility broke her heart.
She thought about what this demon had said to her in her dream. About wanting to keep her safe, and how he wouldn't hurt Sam and Dean if she went with him willingly. He took her for an idiot. She knew the calm, patient demeanor was an act, meant to give her a false sense of security, make her feel safe with him. First of all, this behavior was completely at odds with his performance when he was possessing Tricia. During that time, he was mean and vicious, and she had a feeling that that was the real demon. Second of all, he was a frigging demon. When did demons ever have noble intentions?
She had fully intended to tell Dean and Sam about the dream, but she didn't have a chance. Ever since she was woken from the dream they had been running. The truth was that she was dreading telling them. She didn't want to have to tell them that she might not be their sister. But she didn't have any choice. She'd have to tell them soon. Before it was too late.
They pulled up to an old, abandoned cabin and Dean cut the engine. Sam and Dean hurried to help John inside while MJ grabbed the bags from the trunk. Once inside, Sam got John settled in the bedroom while Dean and MJ set about laying the salt lines and drawing the Devil's Traps at the doors and windows.
"So if Dad gave you that Colt in Chicago, how come I didn't know about it?" MJ asked Dean. The gun in question was tucked safely into Dean's waistband at the small of his back.
Dean shook the spray paint can, taking aim. "It's a pistol that can kill demons, vampires and pretty much every other nasty thing we hunt. The less you knew about it the better. Even knowing it exists makes you a target." He explained.
MJ nodded, placing the container of salt on the countertop. She turned back toward Dean. "Dean, I need to talk to you about something."
"Shoot." He said, capping the spray paint can and turning toward her.
MJ opened her mother, but before she could say anything, Sam walked out of the bedroom. Dean turned toward him.
"How is he?" He asked.
"Okay. Just tired, I think. He's asleep."
Dean nodded. "You think anyone followed us out here?"
Sam shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think so."
Dean was pulling knives and guns from one of the duffels. MJ knew the chance to tell them was passed, so she dragged herself to the musty smelling couch and tried to find a comfortable position.
"You saved my life back there." Dean said suddenly, not looking up from the weapons he was laying out.
Sam looked up at him. "So I guess you're glad I brought the Colt then, huh?"
Dean finally looked up at his brother. "I'm trying to thank you here, Sam."
"You're welcome." Sam said simply.
They were silent for a moment, Dean still standing at the table, and Sam making his way to the couch. He stood over MJ motioning for her to move her legs so he could sit. She rolled her eyes, lowering her legs to the floor. Sam sat down, pulling her legs onto his lap. MJ smiled up at him, earning her a smirk.
"Hey, Sam?" Dean said, back still to them. "You know that guy I shot?" Sam didn't respond, looking up at his brother. "There was a person in there."
Sam paused, shaking his head. "You didn't have a choice, Dean."
"I know." Dean said, finally turning toward them, but still not looking up, as he polished a knife. "That's not what bothers me."
"Then what does?" Sam asked.
"Killing that guy, killing Meg." Dean answered, all of his attention focused on the knife in his hand. "I didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch." He blinked, turning back toward the table, away from his siblings. "For you, or MJ, or even Dad, the things I'm willing to do...to kill…it scares me sometimes."
"It shouldn't." They all turned to see John standing in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the doorframe for support. He took a few cautious steps toward them. "You did good." He said, eyes on Dean.
Dean put the knife down on the table, turning toward his father. "So you're not mad?" He asked.
"For what?" John asked.
Dean shrugged. "Using a bullet." He answered as if it were obvious.
"Mad?" John asked incredulously. "I'm proud of you." He moved a step closer to Dean. "You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you watch out for this family. Always have."
Dean ducked his head. "Thanks." He mumbled.
There was a sudden rumbling from outside, that shook the walls and rattled the windows. Dean picked up the knife again and Sam tightened his grip on MJ.
"It's here." John said. "It found us."