Hello there.
Well, what started off as a writing exercise ended up with Stella ranting inside my head. Hey, at least it broke writer's block.
So these are Stella's thought and feelings about her best friend/sister/mother/daughter Nicky, or Cola as Gabriel affectionately calls her. It's a companion piece of sorts to Chocolate Angel. It'll probably help to read that first, although I don't know that it's mandatory. I'd like you to though.
Spoilers: Up to the end of Season 5.
Warnings: Rated M because of Stella's language and later subject matter.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Supernatural. I only own my OC's and the plot. Or rather, the rants.
Enjoy! : )
Nicolette Burns is crazy. Crazy! Flipping insane, loco, one fry short of a Happy Meal, whatever you want to call it. She's nuts. I love her to death, but she's nuts. Why else would she fall for the man – thing – god –UGH! Why else would she be in love with her Hershey Man? It makes no sense. Hershey killed her dad, is a total jackass, has an ego bigger than the sun, and oh yeah, has very powerful enemies that fucking kill you. Literally. With multiple attempts that have actually succeed more than once. Apparently those gorgeous Winchester brothers die more than she does. I find that hard to believe, but if it's true, then that explains why God made those boys so pretty. He had to give them something to work with.
But back to Nicky. Dear, dear, Nicky, who is my best friend, my sister, my mother, and my daughter all at once, and how she has horrible taste in men – beings – whatever the hell you want to call them. I've known Nicky basically since our moms took us home from the hospital. Even before her dad died, she was always the quieter one. She was perfectly happy just sitting in a corner drawing with her crayons while was I busy knocking down the towers that the boys built. People always assumed that we were related. Two sides of the same coin. I mean, we have the same hair (blonde) and eye color (brown), but that was basically it. Personally, I think that the only reason why they really thought that was because we usually sat together. Anderson and Burns were close enough together in the alphabet that it basically guaranteed same table seating. So I've known her for a long time.
She was so young when her parents divorced, I don't think she really understood what had happened. She still saw both of them anyways, so I don't think she really cared. She was always happier whenever she could see her dad, though. She laughed more, her steps were lighter, you know what I'm talking about. She loved her Daddy more than anything. That's why his death so profoundly changed her. I didn't understand what death was or meant when my own parents explained it to me. It was like Nicky's dad had only gone away on vacation, but he would be back someday and everything would go back to normal. My best friend would smile and laugh again. A month after he died, she hadn't smiled or laughed or did anything happy or playful once. She sat in her corner and drew with her crayons during free time, and didn't speak a word when we were learning. Everyone else in class, even the teacher would avoid her like the plague. So Nicky sat in her little bubble, cultivating her future obsession with her Hershey Man.
Naturally, I wanted my best friend back. So after a month of waiting for her to find her own way back, I decided to drag her back into the world of the living whether she liked it or not. She didn't like it. One day during free time I just plopped myself down next to her and started looking through her piles of pictures. They were basically all the same. A rough drawing of a man sitting in her backyard with a candy bar in his hand. The only thing that really changed was his eyes. They were a different color each time, like Nicky didn't know what the color really was. I waited for her to look at me or say something, but she just ignored me. I don't take that well, even today. If you ignore me, then I'm usually going to do something crazy and stupid to get your attention. Nicky knew this and she still chose to ignore me. So I reached over, took her crayon and current drawing, snapped the crayon in half, and ripped the paper in two. It was dead silent for only a moment before Nicky looked at me and screamed. I'm talking 'Holy shit I'm being murdered with a dull and rusty knife someone help me please' kind of scream. When the teacher finally quieted us down, we were both sobbing. It worked though. The next day, I gave her a brand new set of crayons and we were best friends again. Kind of. The dynamic was different. Nicky was… she was different. I guess that's what hearing your dad killed while being dragged away by the magical Hershey Man will do to you.
Review? : )