A/N: Thank You to all who are reading and reviewing. This chapter is the continuation of a request that the boys treat Hope with a little more discipline because of her behavior. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 9:

Bacon. My eyes popped open and I was instantly awake (I've always been like that. Once my brain turns on – that's it.) I went to the bathroom and saw my toothbrush and that my Tom's of Maine toothpaste had been replaced by the hotel brand. Those assholes even took my toothpaste! (And they knew how much I just loved that toothpaste. They had gone too far.)

I made my way across the room, noticing one of the bureau drawers open. (No way – they would NEVER…)

My clothes! There was barely anything left! (Four pair of white socks? REALLY? Is this how they live?) Four underwear and four of my most unflattering Victoria's Secret bras. (They didn't leave me even ONE push-up!)

I rifled through what was left in the closet and drawers, finding the most mundane of all colors and combinations: Black, Brown, White, and Green. All my pink was gone. (Now that was just hitting below the belt. I have pink hair for God's sake!) I finished my inventory with four long sleeves, two jeans, one jean skirt with a flounce at the bottom, one sweatshirt (they took my favorite Black Dog bright pink sweat that I'd ordered from a store on Martha's Vineyard), and three pair of shoes: my Sketchers sneaks, my sandals, and my blue DKNY's with the small heel that I wear with my skirt.

They were pretty thorough. I was furious – they invaded my privacy, took my things, and over what? A few little white lies and an innocent mistake! (It would be okay, though, I would just talk to them. I'll give them my best petulant look and whip up some tears if I had to. They hated it when I cried.) I took a steadying breath stepped out.

Sam was at the table, per the usual nerd. Dean was making breakfast. Neither one of them looked at me.

"Okay you guys, you've made your point. I get it. I am really, really sorry that I screwed up and I won't ever do any of those things again. Now, I want my toothpaste… please," I added.

"Morning, Little," Dean said from the kitchen. He pointed at the plates. "Wanna set the table?" he said before turning around to finish.

I was confused. Maybe my usual wouldn't work this time. Maybe this time I had to re-think it all. (Hell with it – Nah.)

"Not really, but sure, you give me back my toothpaste and I'll set the table," I said, staring at his back.

"Hope, set the table," Sammy said from behind me, using that calm, no-nonsense voice I hated. I looked over and he hadn't even looked up when he spoke! (Talk about rude!)

"Not until I get my toothpaste back." (I was standing firm.)

"Hope, set the table or you'll find out what that chair over there is for," Dean responded.

I looked over and they'd put one of the pub-style chairs in the corner, facing out.

"What the heck is THAT?" I asked, laughing.

"It's your time-out chair, Little," Dean said. "Go ahead, laugh it up." He was totally serious.

"I haven't had a time-since I was four years old. This is ridiculous," I argued.

"Wrong, Hope-ster. You had one last night, remember?" Sam butted his stupid head in. "You do remember last night, don't you," he asked, looking through me. (Condescending jerk!)

"Of course I remember – but, that was a one time thing! It was… what do you call it? An anomaliity? Abnormalty?"

"Anomaly," he corrected.

"Yeah, that! Last night was an anomaly!" I said, flipping my hair from one shoulder to the other.

"Something tells me it wasn't," Sam stated.

"So I'll ask you one more time to set the table," Dean tagged on to what Sammy said. (They always did that, they FED off one another, it was happening right now.)

"I just want my toothpaste back. Come on, Dean. I'm fifteen years old – and I want my toothpaste!" I wailed.

"And having a tantrum like a two year old isn't gonna get it back," Sam said, standing. "You're in time-out, fifteen minutes. GO," he ordered.

(Who ARE these guys? Where are my brothers? This was not going as planned. Time for the waterworks.)

"No, I won't… no fair, you guys! Two against one!" I yelled, pushing tears from my eyes that were ready to fall anyhow.

Sam was next to me in one long stride.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, easily lifting me up with one arm around my waist.

"Put me down, Sammy – I mean it! What's gotten into ME? What's gotten into YOU TWO?" I yelled as I tried to twist out of his grip. "You used to be so nice to me! You used to do everything for me! You don't love me anymore!" I sobbed.

He plopped me into the chair and put his hand on his hip (his "I'm Mr. Serious" stance.)

"No talking in time out. We'll talk after. Fifteen minutes."

"Toothpaste stealers! And don't think I can't tell you used my shampoo, Dean! Your hair's never looked so good!" I barked at them both.

Dean tilted his head, with just the hint of a smile, letting me know I was right. He shrugged.

Sam looked down at me, hand still on hip. I swiped the tears off my cheeks.

"Are you done?" he asked, running his hand back through my hair to get it off my face. I nodded. He turned to Dean and nodded.

"Setting the timer for fifteen minutes, starting now," he said.

(This was humiliating. I was embarrassed. They were right – I did have a tantrum. Over toothpaste. I sat there and kept my mouth shut, waiting for the timer go off, so we could talk. I had to apologize. This was already spiraling out of control. They obviously were trying to teach me some kind of lesson. UGH.)

SPNSPNSPN

The timer went off with a loud 'ding'!

"Come on over and have breakfast, Little," Dean said amicably.

I slid down off the pub chair and walked over to the table. Sam had brought the plates over. I felt really bad. I made my plate and went and nuked it, because everything got cold…

I looked at my brothers, and thought about how hard they worked to keep me safe. I totally ignored everything they told me about staying safe when they were gone. They were mad, but they were SCARED… afraid something would come for me and take me away from them, because I didn't follow the simple safety rules they had taught me since I could pour salt.

They were so patient. When I was little, I just did everything they wanted because I loved them, but I didn't know WHY I was doing it – it just made them happy, so it made me happy. I'd wear my special necklace with the charm because they gave it to me, not because it kept me safe. I didn't even know what it did until much later. They were very serious when they put it on me, telling me to never, ever take it off and to always tell them if it felt loose. Later, when I found out why, I didn't want anything to do with any of it. It terrified me. Everything about what they did, where they went – I didn't want to know. I didn't want to think about it. I liked clothes, and make-up, and girl stuff. I focused on the time we had together, not the stuff they did when we were apart.

It made me angry sometimes that this was their choice, I mean, who chooses that? It made me feel like they chose strangers over me, but the truth is, they always put me first. They gave me whatever I wanted, and rarely punished me unless I out and out deserved it. My childhood with them was full of hugs and kisses and trips to the mall. I let them teach me self defense because I'm a girl, but fat chance I'll ever need to use it with them around. And I love that about them. They knew I was afraid of the dark, afraid of spirits, afraid of it all – and they never made me feel less like a Winchester for it. I just couldn't handle it, the fact that all of it was real. So I chose to love them, but not their jobs. I hated every tragic story that took them from me.

I would always do well until the night before they left. Then I would slowly lose it. They would take turns reassuring me, holding me, talking to me… until it was just me crying and them holding me until I fell asleep. It was always that way. The next day they would leave to help people who probably wouldn't remember even who they were.

"… hear me?" A voice came from behind me and I jumped. Dean's hand fell on my shoulder.

I had been standing by the microwave all this time, caught up in my thoughts.

I had been standing there crying. Thinking and crying.

"Come on, Little, sit down so we can talk," Dean said, grabbing my plate and walking back to the table with me.

I sat and looked at Sam and Dean, and tried to smile, but I was genuinely sad.

"Why the tears, Little Pink?" Sam asked, reaching out to hold my hand.

I breathed in a shallow breath, and then another. I wanted to open my mouth and say all the things I was thinking, all my epiphanies, but my mouth had dried up and my throat felt like sandpaper. I felt light, like an un-tethered balloon, just so floaty and happy all of the sudden, I had that feeling of going up, up, up … I was a kite, I was a bird, I was…

… I was unconscious.

I heard Sammy's voice, whispering in my ear.

"C'mon baby, just open your eyes for me… Hope Winchester: Open. Your. Eyes," came his voice again, firmer and more of an order than a request. I tried my best to pry them open.

"S'mmy? Dean? Dark…" I murmured.

I felt a cool cloth over my eyes and when it was lifted my eyes opened with it.

Dean was smiling down at me from my side; Sammy was looking at me upside down (My head must have been on his lap.)

"A lot lighter with your eyes open, huh, Little?" Dean said.

I pulled to sit myself up and felt Sam's hands press my shoulders back down.

"I can get up, ya dork, I just got a little dizzy. Let's go have our talk," I whined.

Sam pulled me up so I was in a somewhat sitting position, leaning against his chest. Dean handed me a glass with OJ in it. I connected the dots.

"Drink up, Sissy. You're not moving from here until it's all gone," Sam said with his arm crossed protectively across my chest.

I did as I was told. My brothers could go from being steaming mad at me to lethally overprotective within minutes. I knew I just needed to sit there and drink the juice. "All gone," I said, finishing it off and tilting my head back so I could see his face.

"There's our good girl," Sam said, sounding like nothing at all had happened over the past day. He lifted me up and carried me over to the couch.

"Jeesh, Sam, I can walk ya know," I fussed.

"Oh, hush – let your brother hold you for a minute, pink girl. Just sit here with us for a few and get your bearings."

I rested my head and "got my bearings." The juice had helped a lot. I just couldn't keep quiet any more.

"I'm so sorry, you guys. I mean, for everything. You both have taught me better. I ignored the simplest concepts to stay safe when you're away, and I was more interested in having my own fun than thinking smart – the way you taught me."

Dean nodded me on, encouraging me to continue. "And?"

(And?)

"Umm… and by putting my safety at risk, it's like ignoring you directly?" I asked.

"Are you asking or telling us, Hopie?" Sam pressed.

"I'm … I'm telling you. Just because I don't want to be a part of the hoodoo-juju that you guys are a part of, doesn't mean I don't have to follow the rules you've taught me since … well, as long as I can remember. I'll never make that mistake again. My word."

"Oh, honey we know. We aren't nearly done with this. We aren't mad anymore, but we are worried about you," Dean admitted.

I sat up between them, interested now in what they were thinking about me.

"You think I'm a bad person, you think I'm shallow, and not really a Winchester," I blurted out. (Did I really think they thought that? Where did that come from?)

Dean shook his head, as if clearing a foggy memory. "What? Huh? Where did THAT come from?" he demanded.

Sam cut in before I could answer. "Is that what you think about yourself, Little? That you're a bad person, shallow, and not really a Winchester?"

I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I pushed my face forward onto my legs to hide my face. Maybe I did think that. I dunno.

I felt my brother's huge, callused hands on my cheeks, lifting them up to look him in the eye. It's very hard to look directly at either of these two when they have their game faces on.

It was impossible to move my face away, so I looked back at Sam. "Maybe I do," I caved, feeling defeated. "Why would you take all my cool stuff if you didn't think I was shallow and spoiled? Why would you make me sit in a time out chair like a four year old if you didn't think I was a bad person and wanted me to remember it in the worst way? And let's face it, guys; I'm the diametrical opposite of both of you. I'm a crybaby, scairdy-cat – 'just wanna go to the mall and watch movies with you guy's girl'. Not exactly textbook Winchester material here."

Sam let go of my face. He took his index fingers and put them between my eyebrows, then proceeded to bring them up and trace a heart on my face, ending at my chin. "I have never heard such bullshit in all my life. You drinking from Dean's flask?" he said with a smile. "You goof."

Dean's hand flew protectively to his inner jacket pocket, pure instinct. He patted it reassuringly. He finally spoke.

"Listen up, Little Pink – We took your stuff because, well… ya got a lot of shit. And you love your shit, so therefore, we took your shit away from you. It's called pun-ish-ment, and Sammy and I realized we've kinda gone soft on you. There's only so many punishments we can dole out now, so it seemed like a good idea to scale you back for awhile. The time out chair was totally Sammy's idea," he finished, passing the baton back to my other older brother.

Sam furrowed his brow, running his hands down his thighs. "So, honey, the time out chair is a permanent thing and I'll tell you why. It's not to humiliate you – I know you think that. We would never do that. It's because you get so wound up, that we think you need a place to have your own space and think. You spent a lot of time there when you were little-little."

I had no memory of that. I was in time out a lot? Hmmm…

"Why not just send me to my room then?

"Because your room is too distracting. We want you to be somewhere we can see you and watch you process," Sam stated as if it were the most obvious reason in the world.

"It's embarrassing."

"We know, but that's not its intent or purpose," Sam said patiently.

"Its purpose is to give me space to process what's going on and what you want me to understand?" I mirrored back to him.

"Exactly."

"I don't like it Sam. Deanish. I REALLY don't like it…" I mused.

"Well that's kinda the idea, Little, ya get us?" Dean threw in.

I crossed my arms and made my best pouty face.

They both broke out in laughter.

"Oh my God, you are so ADORABLE when you do that pouty face thing! Remember when she would do it when she was, like, four, Dean? She's be in her fairy princess costume with the wings and we'd put her in time out and she'd make that face and we just wanted to scoop her up?"

Dean threw his head back at the memory. "OH, man, she was the fuckin' cutest thing ever. Still is," he said, looking at me and winking.

I got it. They loved me. They loved me enough to punish me when I deserved it. They guided me. Helped me become a good person.

"Okay, guys, I understand, I've lost most of my stuff for awhile and I accept that. I guess you have to get going - to do whatever it is you do when you get all dressed up?" (Say no, please say no – say not today, today is for us.)

"Actually, Little Pink – we talked and decided to spend the day with our exasperating and adorable little sister," Sammy said, giving me a wink of his own.

"REALLY? What are we doing? Tell!" I squealed, excited. (What would it be? Mani-Pedi? The Mall? I-Max?)

"To show we're not heartless, we're giving you twenty dollars to spend WISELY to replace the products we took from you. We will be shopping at the local Wal-Mart," Dean declared.

I froze. Oh, no we aren't. I had an epiphany. A vision of genius. I could do better.

"Umm…guys, I think I'd rather hit that Dollar Tree I saw down the road a ways. More bang for my buck, ya know?"

Their faces were hilarious to view. It was like I hit them both with a baseball bat.

"Seriously?" Sammy asked.

"Seriously,YES!" I yelled, jumping up, trying to show the same enthusiasm as if I were going to the mall. "Let's go shopping, then come back and have pizza and watch movies all day!" I was jumping around now, hanging off of them and swinging back and forth off of their forearms. I did a flip on Sammy's – he was like a tree. Dean took me and I did a back flip off both of his arms, in the space in between his body and mine.

"To the Dollar Tree!" I shouted.

"You're a crazy girl," Sam said, hugging me sideways.

"You're a Winchester!" Dean yelled, grabbing me from Sam's hug and spinning me around like one of those dancer's from the 1940's.