The next afternoon, I stormed into Bobby's library and slammed my hands down on his desk, startling him out of the book that he was reading. "Bree is an idiot," I yelled.

"Calm down," Bobby said. He pointed to the couch and I flopped onto it. "Now, what happened?"

"She keeps talking about energy flow and meditation and a bunch of other woo-ass crap that makes no sense and I can't do it! I can't do it, Bobby! And she's treating me like I'm stupid."

"Well, did you show her what you can do?" Bobby asked me.

"She won't let me. She keeps telling me to get control of my breathing first, that it's key to fire control, to direct my energy flows, whatever the fuck they are." I put my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands, gripping my hair as it fell over my face. "I can't fucking do it! I don't know what she's talking about!"

The pressure was building at the back of my skull. "You're glowing, girl," Bobby said, apprehensively.

"Fuck!" I shrieked. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" The pressure was too much. It was coming out whether I liked it or not. I turned and pushed it towards the window.

Bobby's lawn was on fire, and not in a small way. Flame whooshed across it, six feet from the Impala and towards the salvage yard. I heard Dean yell from outside and I ran out the back door, planted my feet firmly, and pulled the flame back into me like Sam had suggested two days ago. But I didn't know what to do with it after that. It was still too big. I ran to the fire pit, which was six feet deep and filled with wet wood, and I let the flame go there.

Bobby, Sam, and Dean came running with fire extinguishers. All three of them coated the fire until it was out. I slumped into the grass and cried.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry. I lost it."

The three of them stood there looking at me. Then from behind me came Bree's oh-so-soft and melodious voice. "If the child would learn to control her breathing and direct her energy flows, then she wouldn't lose control."

I glared at her from where I was kneeling on the ground. "What the hell do you know about it? You couldn't start a fire with a fucking Zippo."

"Jessie!" Sam said. "Be nice."

I glared at him. The pressure was building again. "I would if she'd just prove she knows her ass from a hole in the ground."

"The child is merely overwrought. The flame enhances her anger and frustration."

"Will you stop fucking talking about me like I'm not here!" I shrieked. A piece of wood next to me lit up. Sam hit it with the fire extinguisher, and it went back out. Dean walked over to me and pulled me to my feet.

"All right, it's time for you to calm down," he pulled me into the house and deposited me in the corner of Bobby's library. "Stay there until you cool off."

I whirled around. "This is ridiculous," I ground out. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Dean took my head in both of his hands and pointed my nose at the corner. "Time out, little girl. Or would you rather go over my knee?"

I stomped my foot, but subsided. I leaned my head into the corner and just cried. Why was this so hard? None of it was fair. Why did I have to deal with it?

After a couple of minutes, Dean was behind me again, this time hugging me as I cried. He led me out of the corner and sat down on the couch, pulling me into his lap as my anger dissolved into despair.

"She won't explain anything to me, and I don't know what she's talking about. I tried, Dean; I tried."

"All right, little girl," he said, rubbing my back. "But you have to give it another try. Would it help to have a translator there, someone who can put what she's saying into words you understand?"

"Dean, right now, I don't even know if she can help me. She hasn't shown me that she can do anything but give super-vague instructions. I don't trust her." And that was the problem right there. I didn't trust her to know what she was doing, so I certainly couldn't trust her opinion on how to handle my new abilities.

"Let's try it with Sam translating, ok? I'm sure he knows enough woo-ass crap to give you something to go on." He smiled at me and I smiled back through my tears.

"Ok, Dean."

"Now, we've got to talk about something else."

I didn't like how he said that. "What?"

"Two things actually. First, please do not get fire anywhere near my baby, again."

"I didn't. She was fine," I said, relaxing. If it was just about his car, that wasn't so bad.

"Second, where in the hell did you learn to curse like that?"

I flushed. "Uh, Dad kinda swore a lot. Mom didn't like it, but I kinda picked up the habit. I tried not to do it in front of her."

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. "Try to keep it to a minimum, please. It's not the worst thing ever, but no eleven-year-old should be walking around sounding like a sailor. People'll talk. And if you decide to point it at me, it'd better be in a respectful manner. No name-calling."

"Ok, Dean," I said.

"Let's go talk to Sam and Ms. Woo, I mean Bree."

Sam and Bobby were already talking to Bree. I glared at her before we even got off the porch. She had what my dad would have called hippie clothes, all long and lacy and flowy, in soft tans and creams. She had a bright turquoise and yellow scarf tied around her waist and another holding her long, silver hair back.

There was just so much I could set fire to, there. But I quashed that thought immediately.

I had no idea why her hair was silver. Her face didn't have any lines on it, and I would have said she was in her early-thirties if she'd had any other color hair.

When we reached them, Dean pointed at the grass by his feet. "Sit," he said.

I looked at him incredulously. "Seriously?" I asked. The look he gave me was a bit scary, so I sat. I had a feeling he was just trying to keep me calm. I hugged my knees to my chest and buried my face.

"We've got a couple of problems," Dean said.

"Is the child dissatisfied with my teachings?" Bree asked in a soft, mocking tone, as if that was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"The child has a name," I muttered into my knees where no one could hear me.

Dean took a deep breath. "Listen, lady…"

But Sam cut him off, "Bree, if she can't learn from you then you're not going to be much help to her."

Dean nodded shortly, "Exactly. All she's gotten today is angry and frustrated, which is only making it harder on her."

I stared at her long, lacy skirts touching the ground and fought the urge that was rapidly rising in me.

"The child must learn to deal with anger and frustration if she's going to learn to control her abilities," Bree intoned. I closed my eyes. She was making it so hard to resist.

"Look," Dean said, "all I'm saying is that maybe you can break it down a little for her. She's eleven for chrissake."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Maybe use smaller words or different concepts. Just try something else. Give her some fundamentals before you go challenging her temper."

I looked up a Bree and she was mad. "If you do not want my assistance with the child, I will gladly go. I do not need to help with your dangerous firebrand."

Looking back on it later, she was probably trying to impress upon them the importance of me getting some help, but at the time, I just saw red at the insult. "The firebrand child has a fucking NAME," I said, and then I pushed the pressure at her skirts.

It was dramatic. The grass beneath her skirts went up in waist-high flames, and her skirts caught, but she simply took a deep breath and pushed her hands down at her sides. The fire went out. Just, went out. Her skirts didn't even get charred, although the grass around her had been burned to cinders.

Everyone, except Bree, was still with shock, even me. Then Dean pulled me to my feet. "Go," he said. "Go to your room."

"Dean," I started.

"Now," he said. His face was white. When I didn't go, he turned me around and swatted me on my butt, hard. "Move!"

I ran to my room.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8

I threw myself on my bed. I didn't know what was going to happen next and I was terrified. Hell, I didn't know what had gotten into me in the first place. I looked out my window to where the adults were all standing, talking. Bree now looked pleased and slightly aloof. Bobby kissed her on the cheek and Dean and Sam both shook her hand. Then she turned and headed towards her car, while the rest of them headed towards the house.

I was pretty sure she was coming back the next day for more lessons. I hadn't scared her at all.

"Jessie," Sam bellowed up the stairs. "Get down here."

I considered not moving but decided that was probably not going to make things better for me. If they were anything like my parents, not coming when I was called would get me in worse trouble, and that was not something I wanted right now. I trudged down the stairs and into the library where I faced three large, unhappy men.

"I can explain," I said, even though I couldn't.

Sam scoffed, "Really? I want to hear this."

That was new. My parents never let me explain anything, and I really wasn't sure what I could say. "Uh, she was making me really mad and she wouldn't call me by my name," I started.

"So you set her on fire?" Sam said. "Hm, perfectly reasonable."

"No," I insisted, "but I thought that if I did something drastic she might prove that she knew what she was talking about, and it worked." I tried for a smile, but the men all looked at me stonily.

"Yeah," Dean said. "I'm sure that was it." He leveled a look at me, and I knew I was in for it. "It wasn't that you lost your temper and tried to burn someone alive."

All color drained from my face. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"You didn't mean to?" Bobby asked. "I've seen you light things when you didn't mean to, and I was watching you when you did this. You thought about it. You considered it. And then, you did it. It was 100% intentional."

"No!" I said, but I couldn't explain what I meant. "I mean, yes. But…"

"I think that's enough explanation," Bobby said. "I think you'd better go stand in that corner and think about what you did."

With my head hung, I went and stood in the corner while they went to go talk in the kitchen. Had I really tried to burn someone alive? I guess I had. What the hell was wrong with me? Guilt suffused me. If she hadn't put it out, oh my god.

I was shaking when they came back into the room, the realization of what I'd done hitting me completely. I couldn't help it; I turned from the corner and flung myself at Dean, sobbing the entire time. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry."

Surprised, he caught me and hugged me to him. "Ok, ok," he said, sounding a little uncertain. "You understand what you did wrong?"

I nodded violently. "I almost did to her what I did to my parents," I sobbed. "I can't believe I did that! I can't believe that… I'm a monster," I wailed.

"Come here," Dean said. He scooped me up in his arms and carried me over to the couch, holding me close to him. "You're not a monster. You're a little girl with a scary power and a bad temper. It's not the same thing. Ok?"

I nodded. "I'm so sorry, Dean," I whispered into his shoulder.

"And you can tell her that tomorrow," he said, "because she's coming back to teach you again." I groaned and then said, "If she can show me how to do that thing she did, I'll put up with the woo stuff any day."

"All right," he said. "Let's get this over with." He started to turn me over his lap, but I resisted.

"What?!" I said. "But, I know what I did wrong and I'm already sorry! Technically, I didn't even break any of your rules."

Dean frowned at me. "Technically, you did. You lit a fire without telling us about it, but even that aside, do you really think you don't deserve a spanking for trying to set your teacher on fire?"

"No, Dean," I said softly, and I let him put me over his lap and buried my head in the couch cushions.

He hesitated. I don't think that he knew exactly what to do, but he did it anyway. One second he was taking a deep breath and the next, his hand was descending on my jeans-covered ass. I counted: it fell ten times before Bobby said, "Boy, you can't make an impression over jeans."

Bobby walked over, flipped me up, unbuttoned my jeans, yanked them down, and then set me back over Dean's lap so quickly I almost didn't realize what he'd done. A second later, when Dean's hand fell on my panty-clad ass though, I was sure as hell. The spanking was like ten times worse without the jeans. I shrieked. My parents had never spanked me without some other covering.

Did I say ten times worse? I meant a hundred times worse. I was crying in moments, and not just from guilt. I was only able to count another ten swats before I gave up and just lay on his lap crying. When he finished, he scooped me into his arms and hugged me again.

"Do not set people on fire, Jessie," he said softly. And then he ran a hand through his hair. "I can't believe I just had to tell someone that."

I was curled against his chest by that point, and I giggled softly. "Yes, Dean." After a couple more minutes, I climbed off his lap and pulled my jeans back up. I looked apprehensively at Bobby and Sam.

"Go clean up the fire pit," Bobby said, dragging his hand over his beard. "Put more wood in and douse it with more water. I can see we're going to need it."

"Ok, Bobby," I said, relieved at what I saw as a reprieve.

Sam stopped me as I was going out the door. "You need to work on your temper," he said to me quietly. "And how you treat people." His face was deadly serious when he said it.

"Yes, Sam," I whispered. Then he let me go.

I ran outside.