Hello virtual world! : ) A big shout out to Bobadoo who helped me write some of this chapter a while back.

Enjoy! : )

2007

Dean finally pulled over at this rundown looking motel, the kind you can disturbingly easily imagine an insane crazy person living at who will sneak into your room, and kill you in your sleep. Or the kind of place where you could get murdered, and no one will give a damn. So yes, it did wonders for my already frayed nerves. I began making promises to God, basically selling my soul if He would let me get out of here alive. I don't think He heard me as I was marched into the waiting motel room.

I stuck close to Bobby. He seemed to hold some sort of sway over the other two, and didn't seem too happy about my impromptu kidnapping. Plus, he was older. I had a better chance getting by him then I did Mr. Trigger Happy or Mr. Deceptively Nice Sasquatch. I think. Unless they were on some kind of drug that made them super strong… and, oh God, I was never going to get out of here alive!

"Why don't you have a seat?" Dean asked, but I knew I really didn't have a choice in the matter. I slowly sat down in the wobbly wooden chair as Bobby and Sam sat on the two beds opposite me. Dean stood in front of the doorway.

"Please, just let me go," I begged, "I won't tell anyone about anything! I promise!"

"We're not going to hurt you," Sam told me, "We just want to ask you a few questions."

"So you had to freaking kidnap me! Because that is what this is! Kidnapping!"

"And a really bad idea," Bobby muttered, but I might have imagined it.

"How come the Trickster knew you?" Dean demanded.

"I told you that! He killed my father when I was little!" I growled.

"You two seemed rather friendly."

"I – I was in shock! I had no clue what was going on! And –and then he just popped over and –" I stammered. "Why won't you believe me?"

"Because they're idiots." I flinched a little when Loki appeared right next to me, an arm draped around my shoulder. "Hiya boys! Nope! You didn't kill me! Bye now!"

Something yanked me back, and I tumbled onto a really soft bed. Like, insanely soft. I stared up at the cream colored ceiling for a long moment before slowly turning my head to the left. Loki was stretched out beside me on the bed, his eyes closed. As I watched, he slowly opened up one eye to look at me. I still had no idea what color it was. He quirked an eyebrow and I realized that I should probably say something.

"That really just happened."

"Yup." An amused smirk found its way to his face.

"On a scale of one to ten, how screwed am I?" He thought about it for a moment.

"Eleven point eight."

"Comforting." He laughed softly while I tried to process what had happened. Damn, if someone told me six hours ago what would happen, I would have thought they were insane. Now I'm the insane one. "I guess I should probably say thank you, but it doesn't really feel right." He laughed again.

"You're welcome," Loki told me, closing his eye again. "I totally saved your hot ass." I found myself rolling my eyes again. So he was a pervert too. Great. Freaking wonderful. I pushed myself up to get a better look at our surroundings.

We were in a hotel room of some sort. Either that, or Loki has room service in his house. I honestly wouldn't put it past him.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Miami." I felt my mouth drop open, and ran over to pull back the white curtains from the windows on the far wall. I was greeted with an ocean view, and the windows were in fact glass French doors that led to a balcony. I pushed it open, and stepped into the cool, salty, night air. The lights from the city casted long shadows on the dark beach. I laughed, mostly out of shock.

"Impossible," I whispered. "Ten minutes ago, I was in Ohio." Loki walked over next to me, and leaned up against the banister. "Why?" I asked him.

"Gotta be a bit more specific there, Sweetheart."

"Why save me?" He shrugged easily, and didn't answer. "Alright, how are you still alive? Because last I saw, you got some sort of wooden stake shoved into your chest."

"I made a copy of myself. Those Muttonheads iced that," he explained, and with a wave of his hand, I was looking at two of him. The copy leaned over, and gently took my hand.

"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Mademoiselle," he told me in a really horrible French accent, before kissing the back of my hand. I giggled a little as an ocean breeze picked up, and he dissolved into purple smoke. Loki grinned at my reaction, and I quickly wiped the small smile off my face.

"Take me back home," I demanded, walking back inside.

"I wouldn't recommend it," he told me. I stopped just inside the French doors, and whirled around to face him. He was still leaning up against the banister, his face now hidden by shadows.

"Why not?" I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"The Muttonheads are wanted by the FBI-"

"There's a surprise," I muttered.

"And they caught wind that they were in Springfield," he continued, "They got the campus just in time to see you 'willingly' get into the car with them. You're wanted for questioning now. Something about being an accomplice in the recent deaths and what not. Congratulations, Nicolette. You just might get a criminal record."

"I got into that thing willingly with them!" I shrieked, "Are they freaking blind!"

"And that's the part she picks up on," Loki muttered before walking over. "Hello? Wanted for questioning by the FBI. Did ya hear that?"

"Of course I did!" I snapped, glaring at him. I suddenly realized just how short he really was. I mean, I could look right in his eyes, and I was wearing ballet flats. "Which is why you gotta take me back."

"So you can clear your name?" he asked, and I could tell he was mocking me, "Sweetheart, they won't believe you. I mean, there won't be my body to prove anything, and they'll just lock you up in a mental ward if you tell them about me to begin with."

"I'll figure something out," I growled, "Look, if you won't just send me back, I'll get there myself." I actually made it to the door, but when I tried the handle, it wouldn't budge.

"Fine. Just don't come crying to me when they throw you in jail." I felt his hand grab mine, and when I blinked, I was standing in the apartment. A glance at the clock told me that only two hours had past. It sure as hell felt longer. I slowly walked back out into the Ohio winter, and made my way to the police station.

That bastard. That stupid, frigging bastard.

Loki had been right, naturally. The FBI didn't think that I was innocent, and I was spending the night in custody. I couldn't reach Stella, and my mom was flying down in the morning. I had told them the name of the motel Sam, Dean, and Bobby had taken me (and I learned their last names. Winchester, Winchester, and Singer) but when they got there, they had already cleared out. And the clerk said that he didn't remember them, or me. I felt like screaming.

But no, I was stuck in this freezing cold jail cell, with nothing but a metal toilet and a seriously uncomfortable cot. I glared at the security camera that was trained on me, and seriously debated flipping it off. But that probably would just make my situation worse, so I restrained myself. Barely.

To my surprise, I actually managed to catch a few restless hours of sleep. But they were plagued by nightmares, some of which I hadn't seen since I was a kid. I was reliving the day Daddy had been killed, but the Winchesters and Bobby were there, and they were the ones murdering him. Loki was carrying me away from the house and… well, I didn't remember anything else.

So when I saw Loki leaning up against the wall, opposite from my cell, eating a Hershey's bar, I thought I was still dreaming. But sadly, I was awake, and he was really here.

"Relax Sweetheart, I didn't come to gloat," he told me, rolling his eyes when I only glared at him. "The camera is off, by the way."

"So why did you come?" I asked him, staying on my cot.

"The way I see it, you got two choices," he said, taking a bite of his chocolate, "You can either come with me, or you can rot in a jail cell." I just stared at him, completely floored. He couldn't be serious.

"Jail it is then. No contest there." Loki frowned, and walked up to the bars. "Why do you want me to come with you anyway?" I asked him.

"Because," he shrugged, eyes carefully guarded. For once, they weren't laughing.

"That's not good enough. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm a little busy rotting here."

"Do you really want to stay in jail?" he asked me, "Why?"

"Well, what is it you do… oh, you freaking kill people, including my father!" I shouted at him.

"I was doing my job!" he growled, before grinning suddenly, "And what can I say? I only go after dicks." I glared at him.

"You're a real asshole, you know that? And anyway, I'm innocent. This will all be cleared up soon enough." Loki laughed dryly, and glanced around the cell.

"Uh huh, you keep thinking that, Sweetheart," he told me, "I heard that new surveillance tape they found is a real case breaker." I bit my lip as he began to walk away. I wouldn't say anything. I wouldn't call him back. I wouldn't… Damn it.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded, and he slowly turned around, a small smirk on his face.

"Oh, that surveillance tape they found of you pushing Professor Cox out of his window," he said innocently. Neither of us bought it.

"But I never did that!" I protested, and he just shrugged. I literally heard my self-control snap. "Why are you doing this to me?" I screamed at him, "Are you that determined to ruin my life?" Hurt flashed across Loki's face, and the smirk fell away.

"Actually, I'm trying to help you here." I laughed harshly.

"Yeah, you're doing a really great job there. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be in this mess!" He sighed.

"Just come with me," he told me quietly, "Just for a couple of weeks while this whole mess blows over."

"You mean while you magic away false evidence," I grumbled, and the smirk returned. "A few weeks?" I asked doubtfully.

"And then you could go back to your lovely, boring college life," he told me. I bit my bottom lip as I thought about it. If Loki was telling the truth, and I had a feeling that he was, then I was going to go to jail for a murder I didn't do. Murder. My whole life would be gone. Whereas if I went with him, I only had to put up with him for a couple of weeks before my life would get back to normal. Damn it.

"If I go with you, it doesn't mean I trust you," I finally said, and he outright grinned. He knew he had me.

"I know."

"Or I'm okay with what you've done."

"Well I would hope not!" I sighed. Why did it feel like I was selling my soul to the Devil?

"Fine! I'll go with you! Just get me the hell out of here!" I told him, and he snapped his fingers. The door of my cell swung open.

"Well come on then! Let's get out of here before someone sees you trying to escape," he told me, a somewhat maniacal light in his eyes. I sighed again, but ran over to take his outstretched hand. The next moment, we were gone.

"And that is where I'm going to leave you for today," I announced, smiling a little at the boos and grumblings. "I'll pick up tomorrow at nine. Thank you." The convention was going on for five days, and I was speaking every day. Hopefully, it would be enough time. I waited for people to begin filing out of the auditorium before stepping down off the stage. Becky immediately ran over.

"That… that was amazing!" she gushed, "I mean, I've read about you in Chuck's books, but I had no idea what you had to go through in order to be with your-"

"Becky!" I interrupted, "I'm glad you liked it. But I need to head to my room. Alright?" I disappeared into the thinning crowd before she could respond. Becky meant well, but her enthusiasm and everything was so grating. I just couldn't deal with it right now.

I slowly made it up to my room, and promptly collapsed on the bed. I stared up at the cream colored ceiling for a while before reaching into my pocket. I pulled out a crinkled, somewhat faded photo, and smiled sadly before turning it over.

'Hershey and Cola' was scribbled in his cramped handwriting. I gently traced a finger over the words before turning it back over. The picture was about two years old, snapped for no reason what so ever by some random photographer in Paris. I was drawing, concentration etched on my face. Hershey was watching me, just smiling. The moment meant nothing really. God knows how many of them we had. But I could remember it perfectly. When I closed my eyes, I could still smell the air, still hear the birds chirping. In my mind, I would look up from my drawing to see him smiling at me. Not one of his normal predatory grins, or arrogant smirks, but a smile. A true, content smile.

I brushed away my tears before they could hit the photo. Even after everything, it still killed me every damned day. I gently placed the photo on the nightstand, and got ready for bed. Crawling under the heavy covers, I paused only a moment to turn off the lamp.

"Good night Hershey," I whispered into the silent darkness, "I miss you."

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