Yep, it's a Winsister fic. I know that's not everybody's cup o' tea, so no hard feelings if you run away screaming. Frankly I'm not sure I'm going to keep going with this, but I had this chapter written and thought what the hell. I haven't done the fanfic thing in a long time. Disclaimer. If you do read and enjoy, I'd love to hear from you.

I honestly did not know that it was possible for someone to yell for the entirety of a 20-minute drive. Dean proved it to be not only possible, but seemingly easy. I'd stopped cringing about five minutes in, even though his tirade gradually increased in both volume and intensity. I sank down as low as I could go in the backseat and hugged myself.

"You better be listening good, little girl, because this is the last time, you hear me, the LAST TIME I'm going to bail you out of trouble that you wander into eyes wide open. You need my help, you better have just fallen headfirst into a vamp nest on your way to feed starving children. No more of this LOOKING for trouble that you've been doing since you were a little kid. What were you THINKING, huh? I mean, I thought you had a little common sense. Didn't we teach you anything, ever? Were you just checked out like you are now? Is that it? We taught you how to protect yourself, you went off into fantasy land dreaming up new and fun ways to get your ass killed?"

And on and on and on. Finally something inside me snapped. "Just shut up already," I muttered through clenched teeth, pounding my fist into the worn leather of the seat. And then the car screeched over to the side of the road in a shower of gravel and I instantly, deeply regretted saying it, and started calculating my odds of making a run for it.

Before I could make a move, though, he had burst out of the driver's seat, yanked open my door, and pulled me out by the upper arm. I yelped, more because I was startled than because he'd hurt me, but his grip was strong and the intensity in his green eyes was terrifying.

"You want to say that again?" he demanded, his tone dangerous.

"No! Not particularly," I said.

His eyes burned into mine, daring me to talk back again. "Good. Because NOTHING about this is a JOKE, Callie. You could have DIED and no one would be LAUGHING. Do you get that?" He seized my shoulders and gave me a hard little shake. "Do you know how fucking pissed off I am right now?"

"Um, yeah Dean, you're making it pretty clear," I said, unwillingly resuming my smartass tone.

"Drop the attitude!" Dean shouted right in my face, and I was back to cringing. "If Dad were here he would beat the SHIT out of you and that's exactly what I should do. You want to know why I'm not going to?"

"Because you don't hit me," I said, hopeful that that fact wasn't about to change.

"Because I just might get a few good licks in and not be able to stop! Because for three days, Callie, THREE DAYS, Sam and I have been thinking the worst. That you were dead and rotting in some creeper's trunk! That you were vamp food! That you were walking around as some demon's meat suit! And now all I can think is how much I want to make you pay for putting us through that."

"Gee, thanks, big brother." What the hell was the matter with me?

"Are you actually mouthing off to me right now?" he asked incredulously. "Does that seem like a good idea to you?"

I pressed my lips together, staring at the gravel under my feet.

"Get back in the car."

"Dean," I started, but he jerked his head toward the Impala's open door.

"Now."

We were home in five minutes. Five minutes of blessed silence.

When Dean flung the door open to the hotel du jour, Sam jumped up from one of the beds, his laptop falling off his knees and onto the rumpled bedspread. "Oh my God," he said, pulling me roughly into an embrace. My mouth and nose were pressed into his chest and I couldn't breathe for a moment. Then he grasped my shoulders and held me away so he could stare me down, his eyes angry and relieved and fearful all at once. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I muttered.

"Good, good," he said, almost to himself, before his fingers dug into my shoulders and he gave me a hard shake. "What the HELL, Callie?!"

"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it. "I really am. I'm sorry I worried you guys."

"Worried us? WORRIED us? Cal, we thought you were DEAD. We were a little far removed from worried. How could you be so irresponsible?"

"Sammy, look, Dean has already read me the riot act. And then some," I added, risking a quick glance at my oldest brother, who raised an eyebrow at me. "Can I just catch my breath before you start in?"

I couldn't help feeling a little braver with usually-level-headed Sam than volatile Dean. Sam might yell but he would much sooner come to his senses and remember the important thing, that I was alive. Dean, on the other hand, I was pretty sure had not been exaggerating when he said that if he started hitting me he might not stop. I didn't want to test the theory.

I took a quick shower and dressed in one of Sam's old T-shirts, which came to below my knees and smelled like comfort. My room adjoined the boys', both doors open as usual, and when I came out of the bathroom I was surprised and a little afraid to see my oldest brother sitting on one of the beds waiting for me. He looked calmer, at least, but I didn't want to make any assumptions. So I just sat across from him, the wet towel dangling limply from my hands, waiting.

He took his time, but when he finally spoke his voice was gruff but not angry. Just tired.

"Listen. You're not gonna like what I'm gonna say, Cal, but I gotta say it. I don't want to say it. But this is what it comes down to. We're taking you to Bobby's tomorrow and you're gonna stay with him until I feel like it's safe for you to be with us again."

My mouth fell open. "Dean, no."

He shook his head. "Things are too dangerous right now, Callie. You make stupid decisions at the worst possible times and we can't do what we have to do if we spend most of our time worrying about you. This is how it's gonna be."

"Dean, you can't! You can't just ditch me."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "That's not … We're not ditching you. You know better than that."

"How long are you talking about?"

"As long as it takes. Till the demon rave gets under control again, or until … well, until I think it's safe."

"It'll NEVER be safe. You're the one who taught me that! Our lives will never be safe, Dean, we just stick together and keep each other alive! Please don't send me away. I will stick close from now on, okay, no more solo missions, I promise. I'm sorry!"

He took a deep breath through his nose like my words hurt him. "This isn't because I'm mad, okay? This is about keeping you safe. It's my most important job and it's not something I'm willing to risk screwing up."

"NO, Dean. Where's Sam? SAMMY?" I stood up and headed for the other room.

"He's not here. He doesn't exactly agree with me on this. But you know what, that doesn't matter. This isn't a democracy. We do things my way, and this is what I've decided. Now you should get some sleep."

"Like hell!"

"Excuse me?"

I stared at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head. "No! No, Dean, you do not get to tell me that you're about to toss me to the curb like yesterday's garbage and then expect me to say 'yes, sir, whatever you say, sir,' and act like everything's fine!"

He stood up and took a step toward me, his jaw tight. "Callie, this isn't up for debate. Now go to bed or sit here and be pissed off and think about all the reasons you hate me and all the ways you'd like to kill me. It's not gonna change the fact that we are dropping you at Bobby's tomorrow morning, so suck it up and try not to be a complete brat about it. Hell, with your attitude, we're lucky we have someone willing to take you in."

Stung, I stared at him, willing myself not to cry. Those words HURT. "I do hate you," I choked out, my voice catching on the words.

He nodded. "I can live with that as long as you're safe."

"Fuck you, Dean!"

His green eyes snapped up to mine. "Careful," he warned quietly.

"You can't even pretend this is about keeping me safe! You've been looking for an excuse to get rid of me. I know I hold you back, you've said it before. So you finally found a good enough reason to do it, well congratulations. Don't worry, though, I'm saving you a road trip. I don't need you and I sure as hell don't need Bobby to babysit me."

I grabbed my well-worn duffel off the floor. All my important stuff was already in it; I never bothered to unpack anymore. Slinging it over my shoulder, I started for the door.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Dean asked, sounding more weary than anything else.

"Tell my brother I'll text him when I get settled," I said coldly, knowing I sounded like a horrible brat but past the point of caring. I was too busy trying to fight the sobs that wanted to overtake me to worry about what he might think of me.

Dean's hand on my shoulder stopped me before I managed to open the door. "You're not leaving this room, Cal. You know that."

"You gonna stop me?" I challenged.

He raised an eyebrow at me, saying without words that that was exactly what was going to happen.

I tried again anyway, flinging the door open and stepping out into the night. This time he hooked an arm around my waist and actually lifted me off the ground as he swung me back inside. He tossed me on the nearest bed and pointed a stern finger in my face.

"Look, little girl. You don't have to like this. You don't even have to understand. But you have to do it, and it'll be a whole lot easier on both of us if you'll just accept that. Now are you going to cooperate?" He reached in his back pocket and held up a pair of handcuffs. I knew it wasn't an empty threat, and my jaw dropped as I let the seriousness of the situation sink in.

"How did it come to this, Dean?" I asked coldly. "When did you become this guy?"

"Oh, I've always been this guy, baby. You just used to play by the rules."

We stared each other down for what seemed like a long time, until the door to the other room opened and Sam appeared in our adjoining doorway. He shouldered past Dean and came to sit next to me.

"I guess I don't have to ask if he broke the news to you," he said, then shot Dean a disgusted look when he saw the cuffs dangling from his finger. "And that it went over just as well as I told him it would."

"Sammy," I said. "Please don't let him send me away. I need to be with you; I'm SAFE with you."

He placed a big hand on the back of my head and drew my head to rest on his shoulder, shushing me. "It's going to be okay, sweetheart, all right? We're not leaving you."

"Sam."

I could feel the tension traveling between my brothers and knew they were having some silent conversation with their eyes. I only hoped Sam would win the fight. The idea of being shipped off to Bobby scared me, not because I had anything against Bobby himself, of course; I loved the man. But because it used to happen all the time, when I was younger and Dad was with us. I'd get stuck with Bobby. Or Ellen. Sometimes a hunter I'd never even met. It could be for a day or two, or it could be a week or more. Time didn't mean much to me as a kid. All I knew was that those long, fearful days of not knowing made me feel more alone than anything in the world. They could be dead now, I would think. I might not have a brother anymore. Or a dad. I could be on my own for REAL, and then what?

Once they were gone for two full weeks. I marked it on the wall of the bedroom I was staying in, just to keep track. It was one of those times I'd been with a stranger. Someone Dad knew well and trusted at least enough to stick his third-wheel kid with for a while. But I hated it. The guy and his wife were nice enough, but they didn't know what to do with my eight-year-old self, especially my ANGRY eight-year-old self. Because I was angrier than I'd ever been before. So when the Impala came growling into their driveway two full weeks later and Sam and Dean emerged, grinning as they started toward me, I ran the other way. They caught me pretty easily, given the longer legs and all, and Dean scooped me up like a puppy and pressed me against him in a hug that was determined, if one-sided.

"I'm sorry, Cal," he murmured into my shoulder. "It was too long, I know. I'm sorry."

And as he held me against him, my rigid form finally relaxed and I started crying into his leather jacket. I was passed off to Sam, who hugged me just as tightly, planted a big kiss on my cheek, and set me on my feet when Dad's voice boomed from behind us.

"Hey, don't I get a greeting?"

I looked at him and felt the conflicting emotions that so often warred within me when in John Winchester's presence. But this time, the emotion that came out on top was the anger. "No," I said.

I felt more than saw my brothers look at me, one on each side, with identical expressions of surprise. No one said no to our dad. Except for Sam, sometimes, and that never ended well.

"Callie, come here and give your old man a hug," he said, and it was clear he was trying to keep his tone light even though I'd clearly irritated him.

Sam put a hand on my back and gently urged me forward. I shook him off. "I said NO. That would mean I'm glad to see you, and I'm NOT. You DUMPED me here and didn't call for two whole weeks, I counted the days, and I didn't know if you were coming back and it SUCKED."

"You need to watch your tone and your words, young lady," Dad said in a low tone I knew all too well. "I know that you're upset, but I am your father and you don't speak to me that way."

I turned and started to storm off, because tears of frustration were burning in my eyes and I didn't want them to see. Behind me, I heard three sets of footsteps and Dean's voice say "Dad, hey, come on, she's just—"

And then I was yanked to a stop by the elbow and three stinging smacks landed on my ass, making me cry out and reach back to protect myself from more.

"You do not walk away from me when I'm talking to you," Dad said. "Do you understand, or do we need to have a longer conversation about it?"

I glanced at my brothers. Dean looked kind of sick and guilty, and Sam was subtly shaking his head, begging me with his eyes to cooperate.

I took a deep, shaky breath and then said, "Yes, sir. I understand." And I let him pull me into a hug that I didn't return, but didn't break away from.

"I know you don't want to hear it, Callie, but I'm glad to see you. Now I'm going inside to see Chris and Marie before we hit the road. You go pack up." He headed back toward the house, and I shook my head as Sam and Dean both tried to say something comforting or apologetic or whatever.

I didn't want to hear it.

Now, they were going to do it again. Cast me off on Bobby like the third wheel I'd always been. And I wouldn't, I couldn't let it happen. I needed them. I clung to Sammy and tried to make him understand through my desperate grip that he had to fight Dean on this, and win.