A/N: Hi guys! Thanks for reading! This one took a turn! I own nothing Supernatural. I own Hope. Read, review, and follow me if you feel so inclined. Thank you! Also, check out the MY REALITY series HailstormJen invited me to co-write with her, she's so talented. It's on her page!

"There's too many, Hope. Shoulda named you HopeLESS !" Dean stammered at me, eyeing the pile of necessities I'd packed for their hunting trip. "You have to cut back. I said four. There's six here. Do the math."

"I NEED this stuff, Dean. You have no idea what it's like for me, not knowing what climate you'll drag me off to next. I need to be prepared. A frizz halo would be a catastrophe... I've already cut my make-up back to a bare minimum of pinks and peaches." I let out my dramatic sigh. "What more do you want from me?" I huffed, blowing a strand of pink hair off my forehead.

"I want four," he said firmly, but I could see the corners of his lips twitching upward.

"You're a Neanderthal…" I started in…

"Well, I can cut it back to two easily," he said, reaching into my pile.

"NOOOOO," I screeched, pitching myself in front of my pile like a mother bear protecting her cubs. "I'll do it myself – but just so ya know, split ends can really ruin color-treated hair, so that's on YOU!" I huffed, pulling products from my bags.

"Well, I don't even know how I'll manage to live with myself," he said with a straight face. (Ooooh, he could be so snarky. He washed his hair most of the time with plain soap anyhow. Seriously.)

I made a split-second decision to ditch most of my extra shoes. I could easily get by with four to six pair. I began dragging those bags back toward my room. Sammy came behind me and took them out of my hands, lifting them high over his head.

"Show-off," I muttered. I noticed something, though.

"Wait – Sammy you took my MAC case by mistake! That's not negotiable!"

"I don't understand why you think you need all this crap on your face, Hopie – you're a natural beauty," he said sweetly.

"If you knew how much time it took for me to get this natural look thing going, you wouldn't be saying that!" I explained. "You guys are clueless. There's a SYSTEM to all… THIS," I said, taking my pointer fingers and swirling them around my face and hair.

"Hope – you're crazy," he laughed as he delivered my extras back into my room. "Did you go to the bathroom?" he asked (Sam was under the impression I was still 4 years old and couldn't really feel my bladder unless one of them reminded me.)

"Well, gee, let me think…Uhhh… No, because I don't need to? Ya know? Like, I'm fifteen years old. I know if I need to pee, Sam."

He gave me that superior look he sometimes gives. "Well, just try to go again before we leave, ok?"

I gave up. "Okay, Sammy, I'll try," I said, knowing nothing less would appease him.

"Okay, meet us by the stairs in five – and don't forget to wash your hands," he added.

"Oh, shut up already," I moaned (mostly to myself.) God help me, I was about to get in the Imp (Dean hated it when I called her that, but hey – she took my brothers away from me all the time. She was the Imp to me. Simple.) Who knew how long I'd be travelling in that back seat.

I decided Sam was right. I might as well try to go.

SPNSPNSPN

"Kentucky? Ken-freaking-tucky?" I repeated.

"Oh, calm down Ms. Superior! Just hear this out," Dean said.

"I'm not like that, Dean! You know it. (I really wasn't. My brothers raised me to judge people based on who they are. My brothers raised me right.) It's just… Really? I can't imagine there being any sushi for miles! You know I have "Sushi Tuesday" EVERY Tuesday! Do you blame me?"

"Annnd…. This is why we waited to tell you until after you were locked in with us, Hope," Sammy said, turning to give me his best disappointed look. (Never works with me.)

"I have NOTHING against Kentucky! I just was hoping for something more… mall-ish," I sulked. "My problem is why we have to go. What you have to do. You know it scares me! All that salt, and your angel friend poofing in and out, scaring the shit outta me…"

"Hey, watch it, sweetie. Do you kiss your brothers goodnight with that mouth?" Dean asked, winking at me in the rear view mirror, but his eyes were not happy. (He was serious. They both really didn't like me swearing at all. One time Sam almost swatted me!)

Sam tapped his eye with his finger and pointed at me, his signal that he's watching me. Everyone thinks Dean's this big hard ass, but Sam can be incredibly intuitive and … well, sometimes it's creepy how he knows when something's up with me. Dean – he's a lot easier on me, except with the swearing. They love me, I know. They don't want me to turn out like all the girls they've seen out – THERE. The diner girls and the bar girls. They protect me from the real world and from the other world that always tries to take them from me. It's hard. It's hard to know that every time they leave me, it may be the last time I see them. I cry no matter how hard I try not to. Even though they call and skype with me, It's not the same. Why us? Why do we have to live this life? I hate everything about what they have to do. I hate that other people's lives come before them. I hate it all. Despite that, we make it work. They are my best friends, my fathers, my MOTHERS, my brothers. They are everything, even when they're jerks.

SPNSPN

My leg was shaking…. No…. Someone was shaking my leg…

"Hope, sit up…" It was Sammy.

I shifted in the back seat and got myself upright. We were pulled over at one of those horrible rest areas, where everything is … moist. Ugh…

They were staring.

"What"? I snapped, annoyed, cranky, and awake. Just rude.

"Where're your charms?" Dean asked quickly. "Show us your neck."

"Oh for the love of…" I reached up and turned my head so he and Sammy could see the charms I always wear on my lone silver chain. Always.

"They're gone," Sam said, jaw twitching.

"No they aren't – I never take it off, guys!" I reached up to triumphantly prove them wrong. Except it was gone. My protection from all things creepy and lurky and demon-y wasn't there.

I let out a scream. A REAL one. (Oh my God, I'm unprotected. Where is it? God, God, God anything can happen to me without it.)

I believe my screaming went on until I felt Dean's hand clamp firmly across my mouth. Still screaming, just into his hand.

"Okay, okay, Hope – it could have just fallen off. Lift up," he said. I reached for the door handle.

"Hope, NO!" Sam shouted, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me into the front. "You NEVER leave Baby without your charms, remember?" he scolded. (Warded. Right. The Imp was warded. I was safe in here.)

"Sammy…Sammy…I…I… Sammy!" was all I could manage. I was babbling. Oh, I knew I should have stayed home. Here I was, babbling in the Imp, without my magic. Crying and magic-less.

Dean was tearing apart the back seat systematically, swearing every minute. Sam had his arm around me, watching him closely. "I told you I should have stayed home. Why don't you guys ever listen to me? What the FUCK am I gonna do now?!"

I froze. I said fuck. In front of them both. Sam's grip tightened. Dean looked up, mouth open. "What did you just say, Little?" Sam said, enunciating every word. (I had to do something. I pulled my "memory loss hysteria bait and switch." It wasn't much of a stretch.)

I leaned forward, making sure tears were still falling, and wiped my palms across my eyes, smearing my twenty six dollar MAC mascara until I was fairly sure I looked like a raccoon. (Gross. I know. But this could literally be my butt on the line, I had no shame. I pined for the mascara, though.)

Opening my eyes really wide, I looked right at him and said "Huh?"

"He said what word just came out of that mouth of yours?" Dean answered for him.

I shook my head back and forth. "I don't know! My magic is gone, Dean – Sammy! I'm scared! (I was.) Whatifsomethinggetsmeandyoucantprotectmefromit?" I let loose in a long wail. I don't even know what I'm saying! Help me! Did you find it? Dean? Sam?" I threw my arms around Sam's shoulders and hid my face in his neck.

Sam immediately went into comfort mode. I felt Dean's hand on my back, and I think I managed to dodge a bullet with them. But barely.

"Shhhh- Hopie – stop, shush….." Sam soothed me.

"I want my necklace!" I sobbed (for real).

"We want you to have it too, sweetie," Dean said with no anger in his voice. "We need you to have it."

Sam turned me on his lap, facing Dean and the back seat.

Dean scowled. "Sam, can you get her some Wet-Naps so she can wipe that crap off her face?"

"Wet-Naps?" I said, aghast. "Haven't I been traumatized enough here? My baby duffle has my MAC Wipes-Sized To Go…" Dean man handled my baby duffle and tossed them to me. I began wiping my face off, and was surprised to feel real tears leaking from my eyes.

Dean leaned toward me and put his forehead on mine. "Hey. You don't have to cry, baby. Sammy and I will take care of you. It will be okay, I promise." He looked over at Sam, who nodded.

Sam kissed me on the temple. "We won't let anything hurt you. Ever. Calm down, okay? I'm just glad we noticed it before we stopped and got out."

None of us said anything to that. I knew what that meant and so did they. I would be an open target. (THIS is why I want NOTHING to do with this life of theirs! I just want to be their sister. I want girl-drama, not monster-drama.)

Sam handed me a water. "Drink," he ordered. I was worried.

"What's wrong? Am I getting blotchy?" I asked, concerned. (Blotch was the devil to me. I hope the only one, too.)

"No, baby, you just need to stay hydrated, right? Drink it all, honey," he said, shifting a little in his seat (he was backwards – how uncomfortable!)

I drank the water and watched them. They seemed to be deep in thought. No doubt figuring out a way to get another identical charmed silver necklace to me without leaving the car. I rested the back of my head on Sam's chest.

"Howya doin' babe?" Dean asked, taking the wipes from me and finishing my eyes. Sam took my empty water bottle and whispered "good girl" to me.

"Kinda tired now. I mean, REALLY tired. All that hysteria, I guess," I yawned.

My brothers exchanged THAT LOOK. Oh no.

"Whaddaya do to me, guys? Sammy?" I whimpered.

"Dean? I need a new necklace…" I murmured.

"We're gonna fix it all, Little," he said. "Better than a necklace. I promise."

No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

"You ROOFIED me!" I moaned.

"No, Bub – just want you to be still is all… It'll be okay, we won't let anything happen to you" Sam said, turning and pulling me into his lap in the front seat.

"Roofiers!" I cried, feeling a little drool slide from my mouth. (Oh gross. This is humiliating.)

Dean smiled and wiped my drool. "Trust us, Hopie, please? We're gonna make it so you're safe permanently."

"Noooo…..tattoo….please…." I was sinking now.

"Sorry, baby, it's about time for you anyhow. Just to be safe. We love you, Hopie-Dopie," Sam said.

"Hate that nickname," I said, dipping into the darkness and back out.

"Too bad for you, lovey. Go to sleep. Dream of Neiman-Marcus and Vera Wang," he whispered.

"It better be small…" was the last thing I remember saying. It was pitch dark and not a Neiman-Marcus in sight for me.