The roar of a powerful engine immediately caught the attention of the four people scattered around the living room. Booth looked over his shoulder toward the window.

"She's home early-"

His words were interrupted when the front door was thrown open and then almost immediately slammed shut behind the furious seventeen-year old girl who stomped inside the house.

"Christine?" Brennan stood. "What is-"

"I don't want to talk about it," she replied stiffly as she headed up the stairs.

"Wait just a minute!" Booth was now on his feet. "You aren't going anywhere, little girl." Zach and Parker looked at each other and snickered. "Where's Preston?"

She stopped on the second step. "I don't care!" she spat out. "And I don't want to talk about it!"

"Christine . . . " Booth wasn't going to cooperate with her desire to drop the subject.

She hesitated briefly. "He . . . he's still at the party," she mumbled, avoiding the gaze of both of her parents.

"I thought you were going to the movies?" Brennan asked, confused.

Booth's eyes narrowed. "What party?"

Parker elbowed Zach in the ribs, grinned and offered the younger boy the bowl of popcorn he held.

With a loud, heavy sigh Christine headed down toward her father. "Okay, look, Dad . . . you have to promise me you won't wig out. Deal?"

Booth crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his daughter. "No."

This time the breath of air she expelled caused her lips to rumble. "Fine," she rolled her eyes. "See, we were going to the movies and then Preston got a call about this party happening tonight."

"What party?" Booth demanded. "Where?"

"The Rock," Parker murmured quietly to his brother. Zach nodded as he fished for another handful of popcorn.

"The Rock," Christine admitted.

"What is the rock?" Brennan asked, coming to stand at Booth's side.

Christine tried to shrug casually. "It's a little cove, kind of, near the Potomac. It's just a place the kids hang out. Anyway," she hurried, trying to avoid any more questions about the site, "Preston got a call about the party so we decided to go there instead of the movies." She eyed her brothers' avid interest in the conversation with visible annoyance.

"So where is Preston?" Booth asked again, his voice soft as he watched her carefully.

"I don't know - he's probably still there." Christine's shoulders dropped as she realized her father wasn't going to let her get away without hearing a full explanation. "The party was getting . . . out of hand. There was drinking," she admitted with an embarrassed look at her parents, "and some of the guys were really drinking. A lot. And then," she blurted, suddenly angry, "some idiot brought out fireworks!"

Brennan cast a puzzled eye on Booth. "Are we supposed to be angry at the fireworks or the underage drinking?"

"Mom!" Christine cried, "I wasn't drinking! But Preston was, and then that moron started lighting firecrackers - well, that's guaranteed to bring the cops!" When her parents didn't respond fast enough, she rushed on. "I can't be caught at a party with underage drinking! I might lose my scholarship!" Her eyes were wide and frantic. "And then I might not get into Quantico!" she added, as if that were the only explanation she needed.

"So you left Preston at the party?" Booth clarified.

"I tried to get him to leave with me but he wouldn't," she explained. "He was drunk and rude and belligerent . . . so I just left." She pursed her lips tightly and lifted her chin. "I told him I was taking his car and I left."

The minutes stretched out as Booth considered her silently. Finally, he looked at Brennan. "I told you I didn't like that kid. You did the right thing, honey," he added to Christine. "I'm glad you're home safe." He held out his hand. "Give me the keys and I'll take Preston's car to his house . . . and have a little talk with him," he promised ominously.

Christine's jaw dropped. "Oh . . . um . . ." She glanced over Brennan's shoulder at Zach who had abruptly sat up straight and was rapidly shaking his head at her. "I don't . . . um . . ." Parker looked from Zach to Christine curiously. "I don't have the keys," she mumbled, her eyes now on the floor.

"What do you mean, you don't have the keys?" Booth asked suspiciously. "How did you start the car?"

Christine peeped up at her father. "I hot-wired it," she said squeaked.

Zach groaned audibly, closed his eyes and slid into a scrunch on the sofa.

There was a beat of silence.

"You hot-wired Preston's car?" Booth repeated in disbelief. "Who taught you how to hot-wire a car?"

Behind her mother, Zach looked at his sister and threw up his hands in defeat.

Christine pasted a thin smile on her face. "Max," she answered quietly and then waited for the explosion.

It wasn't long in coming.

"From the grave!" he yelled at Brennan. "From the grave he is still pissing me off!" Hands on hips, he faced his daughter. "Your grandfather taught you how to hot-wire a car?" he asked loudly. "When?"

"When I was twelve," she told him, flinching. "He said you never know when it might come in handy . . ."

"No!" Booth exclaimed. "No! There's no reason you should know how to-"

"Well, Booth," Brennan interjected, "it was certainly useful tonight."

"Bones-"

"Man," Parker laughed. "I missed all the fun. Max never taught me how to hot-wire a car!"

"Parker!"

"Dad-"

"Stop." Booth held up one hand. "Just stop." He rubbed his face with his hands and stared at the ceiling. "Okay, fine. Fine. I'll get Preston's car started again and take it to his house and - somehow - explain that my teenage daughter hot-wired it. Sure. No problem," he shrugged comically. "Bones, you can follow me so-"

"I'll follow you, Dad," Parker offered.

"No!" Christine yelped. "Parker, some photographer from TMZ is at the bottom of the driveway, you can't go out there. Dad," she grabbed his arm. "Look, can you just leave this alone right now? Please?" she pleaded. "I'll call Preston and tell him he can come pick up his car tomorrow, after everything's calmed down. He's afraid of you anyway so-"

"He should be afraid of me!" Booth announced. "When I get through with him-"

"Dad!" Christine tugged on his sleeve. "I took care of this, okay? I don't need you to go threatening him, all right? I took care of myself!" She stared at him stubbornly. "Promise me you'll leave him alone, Dad? Promise me!"

"Christine," Booth began.

"Dad! Promise me!" she insisted.

With obvious ill-grace, he finally gave in with a brusque nod. "But the next time I see him-"

"Deal!" she went on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "The next time you see him, you can lecture him until he's scared witless." With a relieved sigh, she headed toward the stairs again. "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed. God, what a night."

When the bedroom door closed behind her Parker looked at Zach. "Did Max teach you how to hot-wire a car, too?"

Zach caught his father's eye warily. "Yea. Sorry, Dad."

Booth glared at Brennan. "I told you we should never have let him babysit!"

Brennan frowned. "Actually, it was your idea to have my father babysit, Booth. If you remember . . ."

Parker ignored the familiar bickering. "Think you still know how?" At Zach's nod, he jerked his head toward the window. "Want to help me return the car?"

Zach grinned in excitement. "Absolutely. But what about TMZ?"

"Eh," he shrugged. "I haven't been on that website in a month. Can't have the fans thinking I've lost my edge, can I?" he smiled. "Dad!" he called out, cutting into the argument. "Zach and I are going to return ol' Pressie's car to him. I need a ride back."

Booth paused. "I promised Christine . . ."

"We didn't," Parker said smugly. "And we'll need a ride home. You in, old man?" he taunted good-naturedly.

Booth laughed. "Ha! Let's go. Wait . . ." His eyes narrowed on Zach. "Tomorrow, you are going to sit down and make a list of everything your grandfather taught you how to do. I want to know just how far my kids are into a life of crime."

"Everything?" Zach asked seriously as Booth grabbed his keys. "Are you sure you want to know everything?"

Booth reached for the door handle. "What, did he teach you 25 ways to kill without leaving a trace?" he scoffed.

"No," Zach answered glibly. "Mom had that one covered."

The door closed on Booth's smothered curse.

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I think Booth is fighting a losing battle. :-)

Thanks for reading!