It turned out the older lady was traveling in the same direction as I was, so I asked her if it was ok if I sat with her while we were on the bus together. She agreed and introduced herself as Margaret Brown. She told me I could call her Margie. She was on her way to visit her son in Idaho Falls because he'd just asked his girlfriend to marry him and she wanted to meet the girl. She'd talked to her on the phone, but that wasn't enough to know if she liked the girl. Margie was a talker and she filled my head with minutiae about her life from the time we sat down on the bus until our first half an hour break at Rapid City, seven hours later.

By then, I wasn't so sure I wanted to sit next to her anymore, but if I could continue to maintain the illusion that I was related to her in some way, at least for the apathetic eyes of the bus driver and other bus employees, then I'd be better off. We got off the bus and I spent one of my precious dollars on a hamburger from the McDonald's near the station. I didn't want to have to break into my canned food until it was entirely necessary, and there was the possibility that doing something out of the ordinary, like eating from a can at a bus station, would get me noticed.

Half an hour later, I was back on the bus, seated next to Margie. She was unusually quiet until the bus started moving. Then she said, "Honey, are you sure you're just going to visit your aunt in Yellowstone?"

"Yeah," I said. "She's camping there with my Uncle Fred and my cousins. Mom said that it would be a lot of fun, but I think she just wants some alone time with Dad." I was pulling on past experience. My mom had sent me to go camping with a friend of hers and her kids in the Smokies the previous year for a week before school started because she had wanted some time with my dad. When I'd come back, they were much happier than when I'd left.

She looked at me consideringly. "You've been spending a lot of time watching your back, dear. In Sioux Falls, you kept your eyes on the door most of the time, and you've been spending a lot of time looking at the cars passing us on the road. Each time one gets close to us, you tense up until you get a look at it. Are you sure you aren't running away?"

I couldn't even fool a complete stranger. "I'm not. I'm going to visit my aunt," I insisted. I vowed to stop trying to watch the cars out the window.

She tilted her head slightly, "All right, dear," she said, but I knew she was suspicious. I started trying to think of something to tell her, but I couldn't come up with anything, and I knew that if I came up with something that wasn't believable, it would just make things worse.

She started talking about herself again, her church and some trip they'd gone on to help the poor babies in Mexico. I could tell she was trying to distract me, and I was pretty sure that I would need to make a run for it at our next stop, or she was going to turn me in to the officials. I hadn't traveled all this way just to get turned in a little further west.

Three hours later, we pulled into the Buffalo station for our next half hour break while they fueled and cleaned the bus. Margie got off of the bus first and I followed slowly, carrying my backpack with me. I wasn't sure whether I was going to have to make a run for it.

I hefted the backpack over my shoulder and walked into the station. Margie was headed straight towards a security guard. Ok, run it was. I turned around to go back out the door and saw Sam and Dean headed towards me from the busses. I turned back around and Margie was following the security guard towards me.

Shit! I turned again and ran, hoping to flank them and get out of the building before any of them could catch me.

I didn't get very far. The security guard was practically useless, but Sam and Dean were both in great shape. One minute I was running, dodging around people, luggage, and chairs, and the next, Sam had grabbed me from behind and lifted me up.

I kicked, trying to land a hit on his legs or shin. "Let me go! Let me go!" I was mad, so very mad. I had tried so hard and they had still found me. They were going to send me back. Pressure pounded at my temples and at the base of my skull.

Sam set me down on my feet, holding onto me, and crouched next to me. "Quiet. Breathe. You're glowing and we're in a building full of people."

I stopped fighting and looked around. Dean had stopped the security guard and Margie and was talking to them. I saw him flash his FBI badge. People were still milling about, but now we had a crowd around us, a crowd that was in danger because of me. I burst into tears. It was hopeless. I couldn't get even get mad about it. "Breathe," Sam soothed, rubbing my back gently. Then he stood up and took my hand, leading me over to Dean, the security guard, and Margie.

"I was suspicious because she just wouldn't stop acting like she thought someone was chasing her," Margie said. "No eleven-year-old does that when they're on their way to go camping with their aunt. She was also overly quiet. I have two children. I know how children act and I knew something was amiss."

"Thank you for taking care of her on the bus, Mrs. Brown, and please have every assurance that we'll get her back to her parents right away," Dean said.

"Thank you, Agent Young," Margie said. The security guard shook hands with him.

Sam stepped forward, pushing me in front of him and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Thank Mrs. Brown, Jessie," he instructed.

I turned and glared at him. Thank Margie for turning me into the security guard. Hell, no! But then his eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and his hand tightened on my shoulder. I got nervous. I turned back around to Margie, who was waiting expectantly. "Thank you, Margie," I said, forcing a smile.

Margie smiled back and put her hand on my head. "You'll be better off with your parents," Margie said, smiling condescendingly and clearly pleased with herself. My head pounded as I realized she would probably tell this story full of self-congratulatory pride, the tale of how she saved a run-away from certain death.

She jerked her hand off my head suddenly. "You're quite hot, dear," she said. "Are you feeling well?"

Sam's grip didn't loosen at all. "She's fine. She just needs to calm down a little. She's overheating from all the running." He gave me a little shake, and I quickly closed my eyes and started trying to get control over the panic and anger that was coursing through me.

Margie turned to head towards the bathrooms and the security guard went back to his rounds. As soon as they were both gone, Sam and Dean started moving towards the doors. Sam had a firm grip on my shoulder, and Dean reached down and took my hand.

"I'm can walk without being held onto," I objected, trying to yank my hand out of Dean's.

He rounded on me and asked through clenched teeth, "Do you really want to push me right now?"

The blood drained from my face. "No," I whispered.

They walked me out to the Impala, where Sam held open the car door and Dean ushered me in. I glanced briefly at the door on the opposite side of the car, considering how long it would take me to get there and run. Dean took my chin in his hand and forced me to meet his eyes. "No more running. You don't even want to try it, believe me," he said.

I tried to jerk my chin out of his hand, but he wouldn't let me. I glared at him. "Are you still going to turn me into the police?" I asked.

"No," he said. "You win." Then he let me go, and I sat there stunned as Sam shut the car door and they both got in.

Dean sped off down the road, even faster than he normally drives. Sam was stiff in the front seat, and I sat in the back seat staring at my hands in my lap. "Put your damn seatbelt on," Dean growled out after a quick look in his rearview mirror. With shaking hands, I fastened my seatbelt.

I didn't know what to think. I didn't know if they were telling me the truth about not sending me back to Knoxville, but I guessed if they were going to do that, they would have let the security guard have me. Sam cleared his throat and I jumped a little. I had no idea what to expect. They were both clearly furious with me. I swallowed and said timidly, "So, where are we going?"

Sam ground out, "To a motel," without turning around.

"You guys are scaring me," I said, softly.

"We're scaring you? We're scaring you?!" Dean exploded. "What the hell do you think you did to us? Bobby drops you off at the police station, expecting you to turn yourself in like you said you would. A couple hours later, he hasn't seen any sign of you or social services arriving or anything, and he goes in to check on you, and you're gone, vanished. No one even knows what he's talking about. It's not until the reception guy gets back from lunch before he gets some idea of where you've gone. He high-tails it down to the bus station and has to question everyone there to find out that you got on a bus to go to West Yellowstone! Alone!"

By this time, I had pushed myself so far back in the seat that I could feel the springs. "I was perfectly safe on the bus," I said. I wished vaguely that the back seat would swallow me.

"Did we know that? Did we know you'd gotten yourself some sort of fill-in grandma? Hell, by then, Sam and I didn't even know you were on the god-damned bus. We were in the middle of Kansas thinking that you were on your way safe and sound to Knoxville, and then we get a call from Bobby. How do you think that made us feel?"

Something inside me snapped. "How did it make you feel?" I snarled. "You were going to abandon me to strangers. How the hell do you think that made me feel? You wouldn't even listen to me! Just kicked me out of your life like I don't even matter!"

"Whoa," Sam said. "Slow down, Jessie."

"Slow down? Slow down?!" I said, and then I realized that while I hadn't even noticed, pressure had been building in my head. Now suddenly, my head felt like it was going to burst. "Oh, no," I said. "Oh fuck." I imagined the furnace. I checked the lock, but it wasn't there and the furnace door was bulging against its latch.

Dean was already pulling over. I tried to calm my breathing, but it didn't work. I was too panicked over the fact that I was losing control to calm myself down. I unbuckled my seatbelt, and as soon as the car stopped, I shoved my door open. I screamed as I stepped out of the car, aimed the flame at a nearby stand of trees, and pushed.

The tree stand exploded. Bits of fiery branches and leaves went flying, and flame whooshed up into the sky.

I fell to my knees. Sam was already out of the car. "Can you pull it back into yourself?"

I shook my head, panting. "No, too much."

"Can you pull part of it into you?"

I shook my head again. "No. It's everything or nothing."

"All right, let's get you into the car. We'll call the fire department on our way."

Dean drove off, speeding down the highway, and I sat in the back of the car, seatbelt back on, and cried. My head pounded. Sam called 911 and reported the fire. No one said anything for a while, and eventually my head stopped pounding as much.

"Sorry," I said, pulling my feet up so that I was sitting with my legs crossed and under me. I rested my elbow on my knee and my chin on my hand.

"Listen, Jessie, I get it," Dean said. "You didn't want to go back to Knoxville and we weren't listening to you. You did the only thing you could think of, you ran away. The problem is, little girl, that what you were doing was manipulating us. You were lying to us. You let us think that you had accepted what we told you to do and then you went off and did what you wanted. You scared the crap out of all of us. We had no idea if you were ok or not."

"What was I supposed to do? I told you I was going to do it. You didn't listen to me, and so I did what I said I would," I said, picking my chin up off my hand. "I warned you. I said I would do that."

"Sam, talk to her," Dean said, obviously frustrated.

"Look, we get that, we do," Sam said. "The problem is that you can't spend your life with us manipulating us and lying to get what you want. It's accept what we say or argue with us until we agree. Instead you lied to us and then punished us by running off. I have no doubt that you knew how worried and scared we would be for you as soon as we found out you were gone. You lied to us. Again. You used our concern for you against us. That was a sorry thing to do."

Tears were running down my face even though I was still mad. I could see his point, and yeah, I had been thinking I'll show them. "I didn't think I had a choice," I said. "I'm sorry that I scared you."

"We can't trust you now," Dean said. "You've proven to us that we can't believe what you say and that if we tell you to do something, you might agree out loud, but you will just go off and do what you want to do." He pulled off of the highway into an old motel, parked in front of the office, and turned around to look at me. "If you're going to stay with us, there are rules you have to follow, and if we can't trust you to follow them, then you can't come with us. You sit there and think about that while we go and pay for a room."

I pulled my feet out from under me and rested my chin on my knees. I'd kind of run my parents ragged in a similar way. They'd tell me to do something, and I'd agree and then go do what I wanted. The difference was that with my parents, I rarely got caught, and the stakes weren't anywhere near as high.

Of course, when I did get caught, they'd spank me.

Dean came out to drive the car to a parking spot, while Sam walked to the room. Dean didn't say anything to me until he parked. "Get your bag and get inside. Put your nose in the corner. Don't even think of disobeying me."

"Ok, Dean," I said, and I did exactly what he said. I waited in the corner while one of them set up the roll-away bed and they got their stuff settled. I shifted from one foot to the other, nervous and anxious. Sam told me multiple times to stop fidgeting, but he didn't seem angry about it, at least.

"Ok," Dean finally said after about an eternity. "Come here."