Nikki POV
Three hours later, I was in exactly the same spot in the middle of the bed.
I had to say, it was amazing to see how they worked. I was learning things about demons a 900 page index didn't tell me. I'd gotten a notebook out an hour ago, scribbling a few things down.
I stayed pretty quiet, watching as the hunters conversed. I felt like a fourth wheel. I know technically four wheels is a good thing, but it wasn't right. I felt like I was interfering with a family event again.
"I'm gonna go get something to drink," I mumbled, quickly leaving the motel room to walk down to the soda machine a few doors down. I put a few quarters in and pushed the button for a Sprite. I pulled the cold plastic bottle out of the cut out in the plastic. I crossed my arm over my chest to hold the cold bottle to my shoulder blade. I must have hit it or something when I slid down the hill.
I let out a high yelp when I turned around and saw John standing a few feet from me. "Jeez...Scared the crap out of me." I muttered, taking the bottle off my shoulder and unscrewed the cap.
"Salvation, Iowa." He said simply. "That's where the demon is." He clarified.
"Oh..." I said, pausing to nod and take a drink.
"Should I just go back to Janesville?" I blurted out.
John shrugged. "Up to you." He muttered, tossing his bag in his truck.
I quickly walked into the motel room, seeing Sam stuffing papers into a backpack, frustrated. I silently started to help him.
"Do you guys want me here?" I asked again, not sure if I wanted the answer.
Sam looked at me, almost insulted. "Of course we want you here." I felt my stomach clenched when I saw the look in his kaleidoscope puppy-dog eyes. He really meant it.
"So, Salvation?" I asked, hoisting my backpack over my shoulder.
"Yeah." Sam said, grabbing his bag as well as my own as he walked out of the motel.
I walked to the Impala with Sam and tossed my backpack in the backseat. I was just about to get in next to it when Dean looked over his shoulder and sent me a clear 'Wait' look.
"What?" I asked slowly, one foot in the car, my hands on the door.
"You like Metallica?" He asked, dead serious. Sam rolled his eyes and let his head loll back on the headrest, exasperated.
I shrugged. "More of a Boston fan, but no complaints." Sam laughed once, pressing his lips together to try and stop, while Dean grinned at me.
"Sam," he said, turning to look at his brother. "You may have competition for the front seat."
I giggled as I got in, listening to the two bicker about who got to ride shotgun; which I really didn't want. I settled into the seats, tossing my legs up on them, my back against the door and looked out the window as Dean drove away from the motel.