A/N: Hey, everyone! This is my first attempt at fanfiction. Please let me know what you think. I know the sisfic thing has been done, again and again and again, but I've had this idea in my head for years and just wanted to share. I hope you enjoy it. Please review.

This takes place in early season 1. Mostly AU. I don't own Supernatural, only MJ.

Chapter 1

"What smells like ass?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't smell anything. Must be you."
"No, no. I smell like roses. This is full on ass."
"Jeez, Dean, I don't know, maybe it's the garlic wings you ate earlier."
Dean just shrugged as he steered the Impala down the deserted country road. It was well after midnight and they had been driving straight through since 7. Sam suspected Dean was just talking to break the awkward silence. He knew Sam was pissed at him after their argument when they stopped for dinner. Rather than just clear the air, Dean was testing the waters, bringing up random things to gauge Sam's reaction. Typical Dean. Apparently Sam's response did not inspire confidence because Dean let it drop and said nothing else, instead busying himself with searching for decent music as they drove the familiar roads to Bobby's house.

A half hour down the road, Sam closed his laptop in frustration. Even after hacking into both the Department of Health and the State's Developmental Disabilities Department websites, he couldn't find any records of mysterious or unnatural deaths at Mount Hope Center for Intensive Treatment. Sure, they had their share of run of the mill complaints about mistreatment of patients, but really no more than usual, and none that had been flagged for review. Maybe the deaths of the two employees were just random, or linked some other way that had nothing to do with the facility.
"Find anything?" Dean asked keeping his eyes on the road.
"Nothing. Plenty of people have died there. I mean, it's where they send developmentally disabled adults who are too violent or otherwise incapacitated to be cared for at home. So, it's not like they're going there to get better. Most of them go there to live out the rest of their lives."
Sam shook his head. How horrible to be imprisoned in your own mind, and then be sent away from your family to live in a physical prison as well.
"Well, just because someone dies of natural causes, doesn't mean they won't stick around as a vengeful spirit. I mean, these people are hidden away, and basically forgotten. That sounds like the makings of a restless afterlife to me."
Sam shrugged. "Maybe."
"We need to go to Tupper Lake and dig around. Talking to staff, maybe some locals is gonna tell us a hell of a lot more about the people who've lived and died there than the Internet can."
"I guess. But we need Bobby's help. These places are like prisons, Dean. Beyond maximum security in some ways."
"Why? They're not criminals."
"Well, some of them did commit crimes, but they can't go into the prison system." Sam averted his eyes away from his brother and stared out the windshield. "This one guy, he's still there, he left his house without anyone knowing, went down the road and snapped two little girls' necks who were playing in their own back yard. His mother was devastated Said she only left him alone for a minute."
"Jesus Christ." Dean mumbled.
Sam just sighed to himself and looked over his seat. MJ was curled up on the back seat, her head resting on her forearms. Her reddish-brown hair fell over her face, making her look ten-years-old again.
"She still out?" Dean asked.
"Yup."
They were silent for a moment, Dean giving up on the radio and snapping it off. "I'll tell you one thing, MJ's sitting this one out, whether she likes it or not. These guys are like animals, no self control. I'm not having her around that."
Sam smirked. In the 6 months MJ had been hunting with them, she had never once stayed behind without a fantastic fight. "Good luck."

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

They arrived at Bobby's house around two in the morning. Sam shook MJ awake before grabbing the bags Dean was handing him from the trunk. MJ stumbled out of the car, rubbing her eyes. She wobbled as she trudged toward the front door.

Sam chuckled, catching up with her. "You gonna make it?"
She grunted in response, pulling her messy hair away from her face. Bobby met them at the door.

"Hey, there. Safe trip?" he asked smiling at MJ. She grinned back and hugged him as he nodded hello to Sam and Dean over her shoulder.

"Whose chopper?" Dean asked eying the motorcycle parked near the porch appreciatively.

Bobby released MJ and relieved Sam of some of the bags.

"Scotty McWhorter. Hunter from Vancouver. He's crashing for a few days. Got banged up cleaning out a vamp nest not too far from here. Told him he could stay and rest up for a while."

"Hmm." Dean said now practically salivating as he slowly circled the bike. "Never heard of him."

"Doesn't usually come state side, but we've shared some Intel in the past." Bobby held the door for Sam and MJ as they made their way inside. "Dean?" he called still holding the door open.

Dean looked up and reluctantly moved away from the bike and toward the house.

Bobby led them all into the living room. "Scotty's got the big guest room, so two of you will have to sleep here." He nodded toward the couch and cot, made up with blankets and pillows as he placed the bags on the floor.

"MJ, you can take the bedroom. Dean and I'll bunk here." Sam said handing her bags to her.

"No." Dean cut in. He looked at Sam. "Those rooms are adjoining, and uh, I don't know this McWhorter character. She stays with one of us." He turned to Bobby. "No offense, just being cautious."

"None taken. Those Canadians can be suspect for sure." They all turned to the man who had spoken from the entryway to the room. He had a slow, measured gait and a slight smirk on his face. His dark brown hair brushed the shoulders of his worn flannel shirt that he wore open over a tight, dark gray t-shirt. His dark wash jeans and cowboy boots bore the scars of many years of wear. He sported a large, fading bruise around his left eye and a small silver cross dangling from his right ear.

He never lost the smirk as he approached them, extending his hand to Dean. "Scotty McWhorter." he said.

Dean still looked slightly taken aback as he clasped Scotty's hand. "Dean Winchester. My brother Sam and sister Mary Jane" he said, nodding toward them.

Scotty turned and shook Sam's hand while nodding toward MJ. "Pleasure." he said smirking at MJ. He walked toward her, smirk still firmly in place until he was only a foot from her. Dean took half a step toward them when Scotty leaned in toward her, only to reach around her grabbing a leather jacket from the back of the couch behind her. He straightened up turning toward the men.

"So," he announced, "as it turns out I've gotta run out for a few hours." He shrugged. "I guess the lady will be safe in her bed." He turned his head back toward MJ as he put on his jacket. "At least for tonight," he said in an undertone, winking at her.

MJ, still in her post sleep stupor, just looked after him silently, her cheeks burning, as he walked out the front door. No one spoke for a few moments. Then MJ gathered up her bags and stomped toward the stairs. She stopped on the first step and turned toward them.

"Thanks a lot Dean!" she yelled before disappearing up the stairs.

Bobby and Sam looked at Dean sympathetically.

"I'm not even gonna pretend to know what I did wrong." Dean said sitting on the cot to remove his boots.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

MJ woke early the next morning, having slept the entire car ride here the night before. The house was quiet as she lay there enjoying having a bed to herself. She wondered idly how many fifteen year old girls had to share a bed with their brothers. Twisted. Well, that was the least of it if she was being honest. Tracking monsters for a living while searching for your missing father was definitely up there on the "Top 10 Reasons MaryJane Hanson is NOT Normal" list. That fact sort of dwarfed other list items, such as "home schooled", "crack addict, absent mother" and "never had a boyfriend", she thought. She'd like to blame Dean for that last one, considering he'd scared off any boy who was ever remotely interested. But she knew that wasn't entirely fair. She immediately found fault in every guy who so much as spoke to her. She rolled onto her back, not wanting to continue with that particular train of thought.

She wondered if Sam and Dean were speaking directly to each other yet. They'd had it out at dinner the night before. No place like a busy Hooter's to air the family's dirty laundry. She had been in the bathroom and missed the beginning, but the gist of it seemed to be that Sammy wanted to head back to Stanford to try and dig deeper for clues to the demon that killed Jessica. The trail had run cold, and for the past three months they had been blindly following Dad's cryptic text messages. Dean disagreed, to no one's surprise, wanting to keep following Dad's orders. She had left to wait in the car around the time Sam told Dean he had no idea how to think for himself and Dean called Sam a selfish bastard. What went on after that she didn't know, but here they were, looking for information on the facility whose coordinates had been texted to them three days ago, presumably from Dad. She doubted Dean had actually made a winning argument and swayed Sam. More like Sam was tired of fighting and gave in. For now.

She tried to wrap her head around the idea that her father actually knew how to send a text message while she showered and dressed. He wasn't really technologically advanced. Although he could build an EMF Meter, so he wasn't hopeless.

She stood in her room, blow drying her hair in front of the tiny mirror on the wall. Bobby had added mirrors to all the rooms during their last visit, after finding her sitting in one of the junk cars, using the rearview mirror to put on her eye makeup. He hadn't said a word, just set about hanging mirrors in the bathroom and two bedrooms. She grinned at the memory.

That's when she noticed someone leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her. She gave an involuntary jump before turning around. She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, even though she was decent, wearing jeans and a tank. Scotty just stood there, staring at her. She was beginning to wonder if the smirk was a permanent feature of his face.

"Something I can help you with?" she asked, slightly annoyed.

He stood up straight and took a few steps into the room. "Sorry I was creeping. I just wanted to ask you something. Bobby said you were good with computers and uh, my laptop got some kind of virus. Think you could take a look at it?" He stood in front of her, just looking at her, waiting for her answer. At least the smirk is gone, she thought.

She nodded. "Yeah, okay. Just bring it downstairs in a little bit and I'll see what I can do." She turned around, figuring he would take the hint and go. He just kept standing there, looking at her. "Was there something else?" she asked. The smirk returned.

"No, sorry. I just wondered if you really hunt, like Bobby said. You're so...young, eh."

"Well Bobby doesn't lie. And I'm fifteen, but I haven't been at it long." she shook her head. "I don't really want to get into it right now. You can wait for me dowstairs." She turned deliberately back toward the mirror.

"'You got it," he said, the smirk still firmly in place as he turned and left the room.

She tried to concentrate on finishing her hair, while she ran their short conversation over and over in her head. It hadn't escaped her notice he was wearing the same clothes as last night. He still had his coat on, and she got the impression he had just come in. Where does someone go at two in the morning and not come back until nearly nine? She threw a hoodie on and headed downstairs. As she walked past the livingroom she saw both her brothers' makeshift beds empty. She walked into the kitchen, where Dean was seated at the table along with Bobby, having coffee and discussing the new case. Sam was at the stove, scraping an egg off the bottom of the frying pan.

She walked over and reached across him. "See this knob? It has other settings besides 'high'. If you turn it down, you won't burn the shit out of everything." She nudged him out of the way, taking the spatula from his hand.

He crossed his arms and watched as she attempted to salvage his breakfast, gave up and scraped it into the trash. "Go sit. You want scrambled or over easy?" she asked returning to the stove.

He grinned sheepishly. "Scrambled."

Scotty joined them as MJ cooked everyone breakfast. He and Dean started discussing motorcycles animatedly, leaving Sam and Bobby to work through the Tupper Lake case.

"The first guy, this Gene Thompson, he died two months ago. Did you look at deaths at the facility around that time?" Bobby asked as MJ set a plate of food in front of him. He gave her a nod and smile.

"Yeah, there were three in the week before Gene's death. All in different units, none who Gene would have worked directly with." Sam said, rubbing a hand over his chin in frustration. "None of them had a connection with the second victim, Sara Searles, that I can find either."

"Well then you read up on those three, go in as FBI and dig around until you figure out the connnection. Just be careful. These people died in the facility and they died bloody. This thing sees you sniffing around, it won't hesitate." Bobby said, piling eggs onto his toast.

Having already served everyone, including Scotty, who winked and - you guessed it- smirked at her, MJ sat down with her own breakfast. "So when do we leave?"

Sam grabbed his coffee and took a long drink avoiding MJ's eyes. He might have agreed with Dean about her staying behind, but he'd let Dean be the bearer of that news himself.

"Uh, depends on how long the research on the three patients' backgrounds takes. Couple days, maybe." He finally answered, still not looking right at her.

"Okay." she shrugged.

"Hell, yes I'll take her for a spin!" Dean yelled, grinning like a kid at Christmas.

"Let's go." Scotty said, standing up. Dean followed suit, dropping his plate into the sink.

Dean planted a kiss on MJ's head when he walked by her. "Thanks for breakfast. I'll be back." he practically skipped out of the kitchen and to the front door, Scotty following in his wake.

"Wait. The computer?" MJ called after him.

He turned around at the doorway into the foyer. "I left it in the living room. Do you mind? I'd hate to keep your brother waiting."

She was seriously going to rip his face off if he didn't quit with the smirking. "Password?" she asked.

"Uh, I'll write it down and leave it with it." He turned and strolled to the living room. "Thanks!" he called moments later before heading out the front door.

Sam helped MJ clean the kitchen while Bobby got to work on the research. Once the dishes were put away, Sam joined Bobby, and MJ headed into the living room to start on the computer.

"Nice," she scoffed reading the password scrawled on the napkin tucked into the laptop. She typed morning wood into the sign in screen still shaking her head.

MJ had heard the old adage, 'the eyes are the windows to the soul', but if you wanted to see into someone's soul, there was nothing like having unlimited access to their personal computer. Their intentions, their habits, everything, right there waiting for you to find it. She felt a strange giddiness she couldn't explain when she started clicking through his Internet history. Oh, this was gonna be good.

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