Bobby was waiting when I got off the bus. I went to him, and without saying anything, he took my duffel from me and slung it over his back. He kissed the top of my head and put his hand on my back to lead me to his car. I couldn't look at him. I could only watch the ground in front of me. He opened the car door for me and I climbed in the front seat and fastened the seatbelt.

We were halfway to his house before he said anything. "Guess you didn't take my advice," he grumbled from the seat next to me. I stopped staring out the window and turned to look at him, wiping tears from my eyes.

"What?" I asked.

"I told you, kid. You gotta listen to those boys," Bobby said.

I cocked my head to the side. "I did listen, Bobby," I insisted.

"Then what are you doing here with me instead of off with them?" he asked, turning down the road towards the salvage yard.

"They don't let me hunt with them," I sulked, pulling my knees up into the seat and resting my chin on them.

"You think that might be because you don't listen to them?" he asked, his voice getting louder.

"No," I said. "It's because I'm twelve." I looked back out the window. "And because they don't want me to get hurt."

Bobby pulled into his yard and turned off his car. "Get your stuff, come on," he said. I yanked my butterfly bag off the floor and clambered out of the car, trudging after him into the house. He dropped my duffel on the floor of the library and pointed at the couch. "Sit," he said. I sat. "You've had a lot of time to yourself over the last day to think about this and about why they sent you here, and this is the shit you came up with?"

Just the tone that he was using made me feel ashamed, even if I wasn't quite sure why. A slow flush started from the middle of my chest and spread all the way up to the roots of my hair while I tried to think of something to say to that. The whole time Bobby just looked at me. When I didn't say anything, he tipped the bill of his cap up with his finger and turned away sighing. "I guess Sam was right," he said, going around his desk to sit in his chair.

I stared at him and swallowed in indecision. After a couple seconds, I gave up and asked hesitantly, "Sam was right about what?"

"You do need to write some essays," he said. He nodded at my backpack. "Take a look. The green notebook, I think he said."

I unzipped the backpack and pulled out the green spiral-bound notebook. On the first page was an assignment: "What it means to think before I act." I flipped a couple of pages to another assignment: "Why I shouldn't set fires without supervision." Then more: "What trust means to me and why Sam and Dean need to be able to trust me," "Why I should run my ideas and plans by Sam and Dean," "Why Sam and Dean should always know where I am," "What could happen if something happened to me while I am alone," and "Why I should obey Sam and Dean whether they are with me or not."

I looked up at Bobby. "There's seven essays," I said.

He nodded. "One for each day you're here," he said. "And I'm adding one that you can fit in around the others: 'What it means to listen to Sam and Dean.'" I dropped my eyes and rubbed my neck, digging my toe into the floor. I heard him get up from his chair and watched him sit down next to me out of the corner of my eye. He put an arm around me. "This is a dangerous life, kid. You've got to start acting like it."

"I know, Bobby," I said with my head still down.

"Get your stuff upstairs and then give the boys a call so they know you got here safe," Bobby said, standing up again. "Then come back down here and we'll talk about what it's gonna be like while you're here."

I slouched to my feet and yanked my backpack over one shoulder, grabbing my duffel with the other hand, my thoughts dark. I shoved them aside and carried my stuff up the stairs to the guest room he usually let me stay in. I dropped my bags on the bed and pulled out my phone to call Sam first, a little afraid to talk to Dean.

The phone rang a couple of times and then Sam answered. "Hey, honey, you have a safe trip?" Sam asked me. I closed my eyes in relief at the sound of his voice, the sound of home.

"Yeah," I said, pulling myself together and sitting down on the bed. "Did you finish the magician convention thing?"

"Almost. We're going to talk to Jay in about an hour. Did you talk to Bobby yet?"

"Some," I said. "We looked at the green notebook. That's a lot of essays, Sam…" My voice kind of trailed off.

"You've got a lot of stuff you need to think about, Jessie," Sam said. "A lot of changes you need to make. I left a list of your school assignments in your backpack. You have any questions about any of it that Bobby can't answer, you call me, ok?"

"Yeah." I looked down at my feet, afraid to ask what I really wanted to. "Sam…"

"What is it, squirt?" he asked with sympathy in his voice.

"Please, can't you talk to him or something? I can do the essays with you guys. I don't need to be here. I'm really sorry, and I swear, I won't screw up again. Please? I don't want… "

"This is for your own good, Jessie," Sam interrupted, his voice a little hard now. "You've got to stop flying off the handle and doing whatever you want without any regard for the consequences." Stung, I didn't say anything for a minute. Sam's voice was softer when he spoke again, "Honey, we just want you to be safe…"

"I know, Sam," I sighed, unhappy that I couldn't convince him. If I couldn't convince Sam, my chances with Dean were on the none side of slim. "Can I talk to Dean now?"

"Sure," he said. "I love you, squirt. Be good, ok?"

"Love you, too, Sam," I said and then waited while Sam handed the phone to Dean.

"Hey, sweetheart, you make it ok?"

His voice washed over me like a wave. I fought back tears, wanting to be with him and knowing that I'd done this to myself. "Yeah, Dean," I said. "Bobby picked me up and took me to his house. Then we looked at the essays that Sam came up with." I paused and then said with a little whine, "He added one to it."

Dean chuckled. "Well, that's his right, and Sam didn't come up with all of those. Half of them are mine."

I laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "I have to do all of them before I come back?" I asked.

"Yes," Dean said. "Every day you're going to write an essay and when you're done with it, you're going to call and read it to us, and we'll discuss it."

"Ok," I said, closing my eyes. "What happens if you don't like the essay?"

"Then you'll have to rewrite it after we talk about it," Dean said. "I want you to really think about it, ok? As long as you do that, we'll be fine."

Unable to help myself, I started to cry. "What if I never get it right? You'll never let me come back!"

"Jessie," Dean said, "that's not going to happen. I want you back, sweetheart. I miss you already. Sam does, too. You just have to learn to stop breaking our trust. You understand?"

"I miss you, too!" I cried into the phone. "I don't want to stay here, Dean! I want to come home!"

"You know why you can't do that right now, don't you?" Dean said, his voice rough. When I didn't answer, he said sternly, "Jessie, why can't you come home right now?"

"Because you can't trust me," I whispered into the phone. My tears were sliding down my cheeks and dripping into my ears.

"Right, and what do you have to do to come home?" Dean asked.

I rolled over onto my belly and pressed my forehead into the pillow. "Earn back your trust," I said.

"And how are you going to do that?"

"Do what Bobby says and write the essays," I said, miserable.

"It's a week," Dean said, sighing. "It's just one week." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me. "Be good, Jessie, so you can come home."

"Yes, Dean," I said, sitting up and wiping the tears from my eyes.

Dean was quiet for a second before he said, "I love you, sweetheart. You call me again before you go to bed, ok?"

"I love you, too," I said. I waited until he hung up before I put the phone down, my heart aching in my chest. I went down to talk to Bobby.

Bobby spent an hour explaining to me the rules. It wasn't as bad as being on lockdown, but I was pretty restricted. I couldn't leave the house unless I told him, and since he had to work even though I was there, if he was in the salvage yard or off taking care of some other job and left me in the house, I had to call him before I left the house. If he didn't answer, I had to text him and wait for him to answer before I went anywhere. I couldn't just text and go. I got annoyed and asked him why I couldn't have just gone through all this with Sam and Dean instead of him, and he snapped back that I had gone through all this with Sam and Dean, and the fact that I couldn't obey these simple rules was why I was here in the first place.

I was going to have a schedule, too. Up at seven in the morning, physical training, schoolwork, essay, whatever chores Bobby wanted to have me do, fire starting, and then bed by nine at night. I tried to argue that when I was with Sam and Dean, I didn't have to keep a schedule because it was impossible, and Bobby told me basically to suck it up, even though he didn't use those words. I was supposed to call one of the guys after each activity so they'd know how I was doing.

Finally, his head bowed like it hurt him, Bobby told me that I was going to start each day with three strikes and if I hit the third strike, I'd be there for an extra day. I immediately started crying when he told me that and, while he hugged me tight, he didn't take it back. He just let me cry into his plaid shirt. I think that's finally when it sunk in. If I didn't toe the line, I was never going home. Sam and Dean were dead serious; if they couldn't trust me, I couldn't stay.

By the time we finished going over everything, it was starting to get dark out. Bobby made me dinner, soup and a sandwich, and then he let me watch television with him until bed time. I needed to light a fire, so he took me out to the fire pit, freshly cleaned and wooded. "No tricks, nothing new," he said. "Just set it on fire and then it's bedtime." He put his hand on my head. I sighed in acceptance and lit up the fire pit, burning the logs to ash. When I was done, I got ready for bed and called Dean. Dean said he was at a bar and that Sam was out. I told him everything that Bobby had told me and what I'd done all day. After we said good night and good-bye, Bobby tucked me in. He kissed my forehead and turned to leave and a rush of panic shot through me.

"Bobby!" I said, sitting up. He turned around. "What if I have nightmares?"

"You come find me, darling," he said. "Or yell for me and I'll come to you."

"Ok," I said uncertainly, lying back. After he left the room, I got out of bed and went to my duffel bag. I dug out Dean's red plaid shirt that I'd snagged and Sam's sweatpants. I pulled off my Eeyore nightshirt and put on the guys' clothes instead. Then I curled back up on the bed to go to sleep.