AN - Thanks for all the great reviews and for reading the story. For those of you wanting rebellious teenage behavior, don't worry, we'll get to that, but she's only thirteen right now. She's not going to change overnight. She will work up to it as she gets older, I promise. Hang in there. You can throw ideas for misbehavior into the reviews, though, and I'll see what I can to work them in as time progresses.

I'm so glad you're all enjoying this. Thanks again for reading!

"What are we doing with Jessie?" Sam asked when we pulled up in front of an old, white farmhouse.

Dean put the car in park and turned it off. "She can't stay in the car," he said.

"We don't know what we're going to find in there," Sam said. "She can't come in."

They both turned to look at me.

"I can sit on the porch steps," I suggested. "You can see me from the windows. I'll run if I hear anything." They looked at each other. "It doesn't even look like anyone's home," I pointed out. "There are no cars in the driveway, except that old station wagon with no tires."

Sam shrugged. "You take off if you hear anything," Dean said. I nodded. We got out of the car and headed to the house. They climbed the steps ahead of me, Dean checking to make sure he had Ruby's knife at hand. I sat down on the steps sideways next to some flowerpots so I could see the front door. Sam pulled out his lockpicks to pick the lock, but he'd barely got them in when the door opened. Sam stepped back in surprise. I couldn't see around them.

"Can I help you?" a little boy asked.

"Hi," Sam said, struggling to regain his composure. "What's your name?" I shifted a little so I could see through their legs. A kid with brown hair and a red shirt was standing in the doorway with all the confidence of any adult I ever knew. A smattering of freckles covered his round cheeks and his brown eyes were wide.

"Who wants to know?" the kid asked, looking from Sam to Dean and back. They looked at each other.

"The, uh," Dean said opening his coat. He cleared his throat, "FBI," he said as he pulled out his badge. Sam held up his badge, too.

"Let me see that," the kid said. He took Dean's badge and studied it as if he'd recognize a fake if he saw one. This kid was impressing me. He certainly had the guys on their toes.

He handed back the badge. "So, what, you guys don't knock?" he asked.

Dean paused for a second before finally asking, "Are your parents home?"

"They work," the kid said quickly.

"Well, you mind if we ask you a few questions, maybe take a look around the house?" Sam asked.

The kid looked from one to the other again. "I don't know," he said.

"Come on. You can trust us," he said, holding up his badge. "We're the authorities." I smirked. I'd never fall for that, but the kid did. He stepped back and went into the house. Dean turned before he went in and gestured for me to follow. Surprised, I got to my feet and followed them in.

"Who's that?" the kid asked when he saw me.

"Suspect in another case. Can't leave her alone," Dean said. The kid seemed to accept that, too, and let me in.

We followed him into the kitchen where he had a pot of soup on the stove. I frowned a little. Maybe this kid's confidence was warranted. It certainly looked like he took care of himself, much more than I did before I'd discovered my abilities with the house fire that killed my parents.

Sam was doing his whole 'connect with the suspect' thing, asking about the soup and telling the kid that he used to cook for himself at that age too. The kid seemed unimpressed by this. I leaned against the doorway between the living room and the kitchen and watched them. Sam introduced himself as Robert, and the kid said he was Jesse.

My eyes widened. This kid had my name. I stiffened and crossed my arms over my chest, glancing at Dean. He was pulling a picture off the fridge of a large guy in a pink tutu. Jesse, with no i between the final s and final e, was written on the back in the top right corner. At least he didn't spell it the same. That was a small comfort. I wasn't gracing him with my name. In my head, he was going to be 'the boy.'

Dean held the picture out to the boy. "Did you draw this?"

The boy nodded. "It's the tooth fairy."

Dean flipped the page back over and grinned. My ire rose. "That's what you think the tooth fairy looks like, huh?"

"Yeah," the boy said. "My dad told me about him."

"Huh," Dean said, glancing askance at Sam and then back to the picture.

"What?" the boy asked. "Didn't your dad tell you about the tooth fairy?"

"My dad?" Dean chuckled and shook his head. "My dad told me different stories."

The boy frowned. "Well, the tooth fairy isn't a story," he insisted.

I drew my eyebrows together. This kid was too old to believe in tooth fairies. I'd caught my parents switching out the tooth for a quarter when I was seven.

Dean glanced back at Sam and slid his hands into his pockets. "What do you know about itching powder, Jesse?"

"That stuff will make you scratch your brains out."

"Pop Rocks and Coke?"

"You mix them, and you'll end up in the hospital," the boy said. "Everyone knows that." Dean nodded slightly.

Dean pulled the joy buzzer out of his pants pocket and held it up. I saw where he was going with this and it made me uncomfortable. What if this kid was the one making all the pranks come true?

The boy looked alarmed when he saw the buzzer. "You shouldn't have that," he said.

"Why not?" Dean asked, looking at the buzzer.

"It can electrocute you," the boy said with wide eyes.

"Actually, it can't," Dean said. "It's just a wind-up toy. It's totally harmless. Doesn't even have batteries."

"So it can't shock you?" the boy asked, frowning.

Dean shook his head. "Nope. Not at all. I swear."

The boy relaxed. "Oh, ok," he said.

"I mean, all it does is just shake in your hand," Dean continued. "It's kind of lame. See?" He shoved it into Sam's chest. I gasped and Sam jumped, but the toy just made a buzzing noise. Nothing else happened. I wanted to kick Dean and by the look on Sam's face, he wanted to, too. The boy laughed.

Grinning, Dean asked, "What did you say your name was, again?"

"Jesse," the boy said.

"Well, Jesse, thanks for talking to us. We've got all we need. Come on, Sam," Dean said. They turned and headed towards the front door. I followed them, glancing back at the boy on our way out, frowning.

Sam lit into Dean on the way down the walkway about risking his life on a hunch, but Dean said he was fine and that now we knew who was turning the town into Willy Wonka's worst nightmare, making the stuff he believed come true. The two of them stopped on the walk. Dean said that the kid probably didn't even know he was doing it. The boy opened his curtains and Dean waved at him. They both turned to go to the car and Dean asked how the boy was doing it. My stomach started hurting.

I was really quiet on the way back to the motel. Here was this kid, younger than me, with my name, with these super powers where he can make anything he thought come true. I bet he could make a fireball if he wanted to. I ran my hand through my hair and told myself it didn't matter, but that didn't stop the butterflies in my stomach. I chewed on my lip. When we got to the motel, I grabbed the remote and threw myself on my bed, flipping on the television, hoping to distract myself.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the counter in the kitchenette, Sam turned to me. "Turn that off. You've got schoolwork and you haven't even touched it today." He unscrewed the cap.

I ignored him and settled on the Disney Channel, which was playing Wall-E. I shoved my pillow up under my chin, holding it with both hands and hoping that my stomach would stop hurting. Frowning, Sam set down the water bottle and walked over to switch the television off.

"Hey," I said and flipped it back on with the remote.

Sam yanked the plug out of the wall. I sat up on the bed and glared at him. "What?" I half-yelled.

Sam's eyebrows went up and Dean turned around from where he was hanging up his suit coat. "Schoolwork. Now, young lady!" Sam snapped.

"I'll do it tomorrow," I insisted. "I have months and I always finish early. It doesn't have to be done right now."

Sam put his hands on his hips. "It does have to be done right now because that's what I'm telling you to do. Get up and get over to the table."

I glared at him and then scooted backwards until my back was pressed up against the wall. I crossed my arms over my chest. "No," I said.

"One," Sam said, his face hard. I swallowed, but held my ground.

"Two." I shifted, suddenly unsure.

"Three," he said. I made an eep noise as he closed he distance between us and hauled me off the bed. He sat down in my place and pulled me down over his lap so fast my head was spinning. I shrieked when his giant paw smacked my butt hard. It stung, even over jeans, and it didn't stop as he spanked again and again.

"When I say do your schoolwork, you do your schoolwork," Sam scolded. "You do not argue, you do not refuse. You get your butt up and you do the work or you're going to be right here, over my knee. Do you understand me, young lady?"

"Yes!" I shrieked.

"Are you going to do what I tell you next time?" Sam asked, still spanking.

"Yes! Yes! I'm sorry!"

He stopped and put me on my feet. "In the corner," he said. "Move it."

"Sam…" I whined, my hands flying back to rub my butt, but the look on his face stopped me. I dropped my head and headed to the corner. "This sucks," I muttered but low enough that they couldn't hear me.

I listened to them move around the room. Sam said he was going to go out and find out what he could about the boy. He said he'd bring back dinner and left. As soon as the door shut behind him, I said, "Dean?"

"What?" he asked, digging through a bag.

"Can I come out?"

"No. I think time out will do you some good," Dean said, stretching out on his bed.

"This sucks," I muttered again.

He left me in there for ten more minutes before he called me out. When I turned around, he had three or four lore books stacked up on his bedside table, and he was flipping through one of them.

"Schoolwork," Dean said.

"Come on, Dean. What do you care about schoolwork? Can I please watch television? Please? I can do the work tomorrow…" I wheedled, dropping onto the bed next to him. He looked down at me and sighed, running a hand down his face.

"What's Sam gonna say about that?" he asked me.

"Nothing if you say I can. Please? I never get a break and I just don't want to do it today. Please?" I gave him my most winning, hopeful smile.

Dean sighed again. "Ok," he said. "Go ahead."

"Thank you!" I squealed and threw my arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "You're the best!" I bounded off the bed and plugged the television back in. When I turned around, Dean was smiling. I plopped down on the bed and turned the television back on. Losing interest in Wall-E and noticing that Twilight was on HBO again, I flipped over to it.

"Again?" Dean groaned.

I looked away from Edward rescuing Bella from an out of control van and frowned at Dean. "You watch that Dr. Sexy MD show all the time and I don't complain about that," I pointed out.

"That's a different episode every time," Dean said, flipping a page in his book. "And you know that's way better than this trash."

"It's not trash!" I objected, getting up.

"The vampires sparkle, Jessie," Dean said, looking up at me. "Vampires don't sparkle, and they don't fall in love with humans either. They eat them."

I clenched my hands, frustrated. "It's a story, Dean!" I ground out, drawing his name out. "It's not real. It's a fantasy. Haven't you ever heard of fiction or are you too stupid to know the difference?" Dean jerked back like I'd slapped him, his eyes widening, but I wasn't done. "Maybe you should have tried for something more than a GED. Then you wouldn't need a thirteen-year-old to explain it to you." Dean's face closed, his eyes narrowing and his jaw stiffening.

"Shut your mouth, turn the television off, and sit on your bed facing the wall," Dean growled.

"Or what?" I snapped, unable to help myself.

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Keep pushing and find out, little girl," he warned, his voice low.

Adrenaline shot through me. I flipped the television off and set the remote next to it on the dresser.

"Bed," he said, pointing to it. I dropped my head and turned to go back to the bed, but at the last second, I bolted for the door, taking Dean by surprise. I ran into the parking lot, hearing his footsteps pounding behind me. I tried to pick up speed but my short legs were no match for his. Before I knew it, he caught up to me and scooped me up. I shrieked and it was cut off when he tossed me over his shoulder.

I punched his back and kicked, but it didn't do any good. He just held me to his shoulder, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist. "Keep fighting," Dean snapped, bringing his hand down hard on my butt. I yelped. "See what it gets you."

"Lemme go," I shrieked, but he didn't. He just hauled me into the room and dumped me on his bed. I scrambled to my knees and slid off the other side of the bed, heading back towards the door, but Dean grabbed my arm, popped the button on my jeans, sat down, and pulled me over his lap. The next thing I knew, my jeans were around my ankles and he'd slid my panties off.

"Nooooooo!" I wailed as his hand came down.

"No?" he asked. "You spit poison at me and then deliberately disobey me and you don't think you're getting a spanking?"

"I'm sorry!" I cried. "I didn't mean it."

Dean didn't say anything else, he just brought his hand down over and over. I kicked and struggled, but he held me there, each spank searing into me until I couldn't fight anymore. I burst into tears and sobbed over his lap. He stopped spanking, pulled my panties back up, and put me on my feet in front of him. Sniffling, I wiped my face with my hands and pulled my jeans back up.

"Well?" he asked, his expression still angry.

"What?" I whispered.

He raised his brows at me. "You want more?" he asked.

I flushed. "I'm sorry," I whispered, not looking at him. "I was just mad. I didn't mean it. I shouldn't have said it. You're not stupid and I know it."

"Do I talk to you like that?" Dean asked.

"No," I said.

"No, what?" Dean snapped.

I looked at him in confusion. He tilted his head a little and waited. I flushed. "No, sir," I said, swallowing hard.

"I don't know what's gotten into you today, little girl, but I am done with it," he said. "You are not allowed to speak unless spoken to for the next two hours. Go sit on the bed and face the wall."

Hanging my head, I turned and climbed onto the bed, my butt throbbing and my eyes sore. I criss-crossed my legs and faced the wall. Pressing my lips together, I rested my elbows on my knees and propped my head on my hands. I was still sitting there an hour and a half later when Sam got back.

"So, I dug up what I could on Jesse Turner," Sam said as he came into the room. He shut the door behind him. "It's not much. B student, won last year's Pinewood Derby. But get this. Jesse was adopted. His birth records are sealed."

"So you unsealed them, and?" Dean asked.

"There's no father listed, but Jesse's biological mom is named Julia Wright," Sam said. "She lives in Elk Creek, on the other side of the state."

Dean closed his book and dropped it on the bed. "Let's hit the road," he said.

"What's going on with her?" Sam asked.

"She's got a mouth on her today. She's got another half hour before she's allowed to speak again," Dean said, his voice hard. He got up from the bed.

"I take it she didn't get much schoolwork done," Sam said.

"Nope," Dean said.

"That's ok, she can do it on the road," Sam said. I groaned but didn't say anything. The two of them changed into more comfortable clothes and packed up their suits to keep them nice. About a half hour later, Dean called me off the bed.

"You gonna behave yourself?" Dean asked.

I nodded.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Try again," he said.

"Yes, Dean," I whispered, but he wasn't mollified.

"Again," he said.

Then, I knew what he wanted. "Yes, sir," I said.

"Get your backpack and your duffel," Dean said. "You can talk again, but keep a civil tongue in your head."

I went to pack my bag. Sam glanced at me and then went to talk to Dean by his bed. "What's with the sir?" Sam asked in a whisper. I was pretty sure I wasn't supposed to be able to hear him.

"She's pushing really hard, Sam, and I'm tired of it. She needs a reminder of who's in charge." Dean didn't even bother to lower his voice.