Omg, whoa! What the fuck is this? I'm BACK! Oh snap. lol. Sorry I've been on hiatus so long, it wasn't--by any means--intended. My laptop completely crapped out on me on christmas... great holiday gift, huh? Finally got a new 'puter in late april and recovered the files from my old laptop a few weeks ago. So, my most sincere apologies for the six month delay. My ideas have gotten bigger and more insane... alot of fun is on the horizon!! Hope you enjoy this one, let me know!
ON WITH THE SHOW MY DARLINGS!!!
Chapter 18: Bad News During a Purple Haze
Nadia wandered aimlessly in the painted gardens her subconscious created for her; time seemed as still as the shrubberies and sea of flowers surrounding her. Scoffing lightly, she realized what her tired mind had concocted for her to dwell within:
A Monet painting... o–k random.
Kneeling before a dreamland-paused pond, it dawned on her.
The stories I used to tell Em to get her to fall asleep... endless gardens where she'd be forever safe from the things she feared. But why is everything so still? I always described this place as being animated with the touch of a warm breeze... I know, it's because she's gone. This is all I have left of her, and it's in my head...
Looking down in reaction to the strange swishing noise she heard when she moved, she discovered her clothes had changed, and instead of wearing jeans and her favorite tee she was barefoot and clad in a faded navy dress, hugging loosely at her curves, thin straps falling off her shoulders; it was satin and weightless, but the one attribute of the garment that didn't make her cringe was the ripped hems.
Ok, ripped hems is nice and kinda punk... but why a dress?!
Distant and gentle, male voices rang out in the sky high above the girl, tilting her head back, ignoring the tickle of her loosely curled crimson mane, she listened intently to the voices. Wondering numbly why the voices sounded so familiar, where had she heard them before? They were still too distant and soft to discern.
'We're back'
'Dude, not so loud... she's still asleep.'
'Oh, sorry. Why don't you take her on upstairs... I'll go fill Missouri in on everything.'
Missouri... I know that name...
Before her ponderings could question any further, a thick fog descended over the entire scene, causing Nadia to feel weighed down and dizzy, disoriented. Tiredly blinking her eyes, her oil-paint paradise faded and fell away from her; the voices became louder, abrasive to her strangely delicate hearing. Dense fog morphed from its morose moss-green and grey to the familiar swirls of inky blackness. The black of a demonically possessed eye.
Cristin... Meg... That bitch.
She blinked her eyes open once.
The morose grey lingered long enough to smudge the edges of her vision momentarily and she remembered the voices...
It was the brothers.
"Don't slam the–" she twitches at the slam of a car door "–door." With a huff, sleep hazed sight is confronted by a blurry face, possibly only a couple of inches away; even with the sands of slumber dawdling behind drooping lids she could easily surmise that the obscured face belonged to none other than the illustrious Dean Winchester. "Hey there, sorry if Sammy woke you... I'll kick his ass for it later. We're back at Missouri's."
Smiling sleepily she buried her face in his chest, shrouded in a sea of dually layered shirts and weathered old leather jacket; allowing herself to drown in the ocean of fabrics she mumbled while wiggling about, desperate to obtain a more comfortable position in the backseat. The half-conscious, muffled reply crawled weakly to his ears, "Five more minutes...?"
Her breathing pillow shook and rattled mirthfully in response. Normally such movements would irritate the woman-hunter, causing her to complain about such distracting motions; but now... now she chose to ignore the world around her completely, willing her imagination forcefully to return to her inner paradise, forever suspended in a fleeting instance. "First you flat out deny how tired you are, and now you want five more minutes?" Dean shakes his head with a disbelieving smirk "No one said you had to wake up... I'll carry you to your room, okay?"
His voice billowed in amusement, echoing back to her from the unusual acoustics of the Impala's interior. Both remained quiet for a beat, Dean was almost convinced she was fast asleep and wouldn't respond. Until she feebly nodded, otherwise limp in slumber.
Okay then, upsie-daisy Sleeping Beauty.
With a speed and agility that would have left the young woman awestruck–had she been awake–Dean gently kicked open the car door and carried the grieving dead weight of the last living Coltier inside, relieved in catching a fleeting glimpse his brother and the old fortune teller as they disappeared around the corner leading to the parlor. Soundlessly he ascended the staircase, footfalls cushioned by the thick layer of dirtied-white carpet. It wasn't until he crossed the threshold of Nadia's room, utterly winded, that he noticed his own fatigue.
Had he slept since the attack?
Had he eaten anything?
Coffee?
Treated his own injuries?
So many thoughts and questions fluttered through his head all at once. The room spun. His eyes ached. Back screamed. Every muscle in his body was writhing in an orgy of seizures. Dean Winchester had never felt so drained in his life. The moment of his realization, his body and laundry list of aches/pains overthrew his mind's control to orchestrate movement. Swooning, he collapsed onto the double bed, landing next to his unconscious companion.
"Samuel Winchester... it's about time you came back! Where were you kids? I've been worried sick, fearing the worst!" Missouri scolded austerely, her tone fading into a soft concern.
"We need to talk, Missouri"
"Why? Where are the girls and your brother?" her face fell and she allowed the budding psychic to lead her to the parlor upon seeing him wince as she mentions the girls. Sam's gaze remained downcast as he guided Missouri to a couch, refusing to meet the blank yet fearful expression he felt himself being pelted with. Sitting himself down on the opposite side of the coffee table, he inspected every inch of his hands, unsure of where, exactly, he needed to begin. "Sam... What happened?"
"M–"stopping he struggled to keep his resolve from crumbling "Missouri... we were attacked last night." he squeezed out, gulping back anger and grief. Had he the will power, Sam just might have laughed at the way the old woman sat frozen in shock; she looked like she belonged in a wax museum.
"I... I was possessed," the words came to him agonizingly slow "Dean... was forced to watch helplessly... Emily was beaten within an inch of her life... and Nadia, ah geez, poor Nadia..." his head shook in disbelief while tears pooled along his lower eyelids; glittering like a million minuscule diamonds.
"Her empathic abilities were going off at the worst times, they made her watch the second time they beat Em–provoking a new power to surface... which is how we got out of the attack alive. But Em... Emily..." his voice caught in his throat, shaking his head again, tears streaming furiously "She had it the worst. Its grotesque enough... what they did to her. But... it was agonizing, how she held on so tightly... just to see her sister one last time; how Nadia was so adamant in wanting to go to her, to make sure she wasn't alone and scared when..."
The old reader gasped painfully, clamping a hand over her mouth at the ill news. "Emmy's...?"
"Emily's dead, Missouri... as if that's not bad enough... so is Dad." both the youngest hunter's voice and resolve shattered upon mentioning his father; Missouri wasn't sure how much more of the tragic news she could handle, with the strangled sob that broke free from her throat she was able to tell she wouldn't be able to handle any more.
"A-and Nadia?... Dean? Where are they?" trepidation paired with heartbreak seized Missouri, heart and soul; bracing herself for more terrible news.
"Dean's fine... worried about Nadia, if anything. She's pretty broken-up..."
"I can imagine... those two, they made you and your brother look estranged."
"Nadia's all banged up, 16 stitches in her right eyebrow from a head-butt... passed out from exhaustion before we even left the parking lot. Dean took her upstairs... haven't told him about Dad yet, I don't know how to tell him..."
"And you, Sam... How are you doing?" his head drooped forward dejectedly while the youngest Winchester reflected on the question.
Sam's chest puffed out, doubling in size, his jaw clenched tightly as he takes the dizzyingly deep breath; quivering, weary hands rub at his eyes before he makes his answer known. "I'm doing terrible, I feel guilty... it's not completely clear, but I'm pretty sure when I became possessed I was the first one to... hurt her, also during the possession, I... god, the hurtful things I said to Nadia. She says she doesn't want to talk about what happened... ever, she says she doesn't blame me for what happened... but in her place, I blame me. I wouldn't blame her if she refused to continue teaching me how to control my powers... I get her last shred of family killed, she let's my 'gifts' destroy me, seems like a fair trade to me."
"Poppy-cock, Sammy! Never say things like that ever again... and especially don't think them around her. It's ridiculous. 'Fair trade'... my FOOT!"
The jarring vibes of sorrow looming precariously about the house shifted drastically, suddenly, causing the huntress to shoot straight up from her previously peaceful rest. Panting gently, loosening the fearful surprise she felt upon waking, she scooted off her bed and walked nimbly from her room without looking anywhere around her; her sights focused on the door, once she passed it, her vision shifted it's focus to Emily's door. Anxiously, Nadia's fingertips pushed her sister's door open until the wall behind it held the slab of wood back from moving any further. Blindly, she stepped into the room.
"Emmy... I had the weirdest dream, you'll never believe the shit that happened..." she clucked in humored disbelief "We met back up with the Winchester's and got attacked one night, and you died... Emmy...? Emily now is not the best time for hide-and-seek... Em? Where are you?" pivoting she ran soundlessly from the room in a heated search for her mentor. "Maybe she's with Missouri..."
Chewing on the corner of her bottom lip, she grinned playfully while speeding off towards the parlor. All movement stopped cold when she saw from the doorway that Missouri looked upset as she talked to some young man with shaggy hair.
"Nadia... my poor baby!" Missouri exclaimed softly upon seeing the perplexed redhead appear at the door way as suddenly as a ghost could flicker before the naked eye.
"Missouri? What's wrong? Do you know where Emily is... I had this really weird dream she'd la–" the old reader shook, releasing a single muffled sob into the back of her hand. The young man on the couch turned towards Nadia and her whole world seemed to crumble. "...Sammy?... but..."
In the blink of an eye, Sam had left his spot on the couch, gathering the befuddled girl in his arms without reacting to how clammy her skin became when she realized her worst nightmare had truly happened. She wasn't dreaming.
"No... No! Th-this can't be happening... it can't be true... it... it can't be!" she thundered, the sharp edge of her cry lost and muffled by Sam's shirt. Grabbing at Sam's shirt desperately, Nadia's knees buckled. The ground below her felt like it had given way. The only way to keep herself from falling into the unknown was to cling tightly to the bunch of cotton between her fingers. Stiff arms hugged her with the same strength as her elegantly thin hands as they clasped to his shirt. She shook like a leaf, she breathed as if she'd just run a marathon; but there were no tears, no sobs. She wants to fall to pieces, but just can't bring herself to weep.
Damn the emotional walls, the blocking, and the training... damn it all, damn everything...straight to the fires of hell... and damn the flames while I'm there...
She's seized by a rather painful hiccup before she goes silent and still; tuckered out by the sizable iceberg of pain floating densely inside her chest. "Shit..." she swears under her breath in realization "I should probably call Brotha Drake and make sure everyone's okay at Johnny's... 'cuse me..."
Wordlessly, Missouri and Sam allow her to walk away and out towards the kitchen, snatching the pack of Parliaments and lighter in time with opening the back door. No sooner had Nadia lit the small nicotine filled cylinder of stress-relief she had her cell out and speed-dialing Drake. It rang once. Twice. Half of a third before the rough Isaac Hayes-reminiscent voice greeted her ears.
'Johnny's Tavern, y'got Drake's attention...?' the smooth dialect should have been followed with: y'daaaaamn right... but that was just her opinion.
"Hey Brotha Drake... its Nadia..."
'Sista-child! How's my baby girl holdin' up after the little helter-skelter we had last night?'
Damn your poetic speech, Drake... Damn everything
"Not so good... how's Lady and Me-Ma?"
'Out of order until further notice,' they lived through their onslaught 'and Bitty-Child?'
No, don't ask about Emily... why did you have to go and do that, Drake?
She didn't answer. Couldn't. Thinking about it still hurt too damn much. Instead a sob tickled its way up her throat, narrowly escaping, coming off as more of a sigh than anything else.
'Sista-child? How bad's Bitty hurtin'?'
"Bit–Emmy's not hurting anymore; she won't be hurting anymore..."
Take the hint man!
'Daaaamn, sincerest condolences from all of us, baby. Anything Brotha Drake can do for Sista?'
"Yea," Merciful release, you chocolate saint...thank the gods these hospital meds won't be wearing off any time soon "care to send a broken girl a care package?"
''course, baby. What can Brotha set you up with?'
"Uh... a triple should do it for now."
'Triple?! Ain't that a little much, baby?'
"Not from where I'm standing..."
'True. Of course we never even considered how you might react to losing such a valuable part of yo life...' Glad that he couldn't see her reaction, Nadia squeezed her eyes shut, grimacing at the thought of her sister. 'Tell ya what Brotha Drake is going to do for ya... cuz he loves his Sista-child, Drake's sending The Lady and Phillip to do some grief management... and a quadruple. How're the brother's and yo Auntie Moseley?'
Chancing a look back at the house, she sighed into the phone as deep creases of worry set in. "She's pretty broken up about the whole ordeal, as would be expected. Didn't really help that I came running down to her just now thinking everything that's happened in the past few days was nothing but a bad dream... past couple of months actually."
The 'tsk' and sorrowful 'aww' that slipped out of her cell's receiver brought Nadia dangerously close to tears, forcing them back with a broken grin. Shaking her head she realized that if there was ever a movie made about Drake, the only people that could ever play him would either be Isaac Hayes or Samuel L. Jackson; he was just that cool.
'And the boys, how are they dealing?' Pulling in a deep breath–because the explanation called for it– she let her head fall a bit, picking out another cigarette.
"Can't really say, ya know? On the one hand, they're doin' all they can to be there for me; Dean's been wonderful, Sam's the same; but I can almost taste his guilt, he blames himself for Emily. I don't, not at all, the boy doesn't have a Devil's Trap yet... what could he have done to resist possession? Doesn't help that their old man also died yesterday, I saw it happen, Sammy–when he found out that I saw it happen... ha, that boy amazes me..."
'Didn't react the way you thought he would?'
"He hugged me."
'And Dean...?'
"He doesn't know about his dad just yet, it's not my place to tell him anyway. Honestly, I'm kinda scared about how he might react."
'Like his brother; it'll be hard, but he'll accept it. He'll have a whole party of retired hunters on his ass if he reacts any differently towards you than that.' The ghost of a smile that flickered this time decided to linger on the huntress' face, quite glad that she still had the bunch from Johnny's just a phone call away.
"I'll keep that in mind, it's a comical thought."
'Speaking of Devil's Traps... you talk to J. Leroy lately?'
"Yea, Friday I think. He's coming to town Tuesday."
'Tell that odd bastard to come by Johnny's while he's in town, I'll fix him one of his weird-ass ugga bugga drinks... on the house.'
"I'll be sure to let him know, Drake. You gonna come by with Lady and Phillip? I'm sure Missouri would love to see you again as well as myself." For as much as Nadia and her sister would cringe at the thought of seeing their surrogate mother being intimate with anyone, she'd always smile from the inside-out when she saw Drake and Missouri together; the pair had been lovers for a very long time in their youth, and to this day they still flirted and had banter battles relentlessly. It was like watching a real life fairytale playing out before her, it wasn't the happiest one, since they never got the chance to get married or start a family or anything like that way back when. But it had always amazed her how they still loved each other.
Secretly, she'd always longed for something like the love between Drake and Missouri; someone to love, to fight with, fight beside, hold, pick on mercilessly without them really being bothered by it, someone to grow old and grey with. No, DiDi, you won't have that, you can't have that. Emmy was younger than you and her time ran out 5 years before the age everyone else in your family expired at. It's your curse, you can't defeat a curse, you get the hell out of its way. You don't have to right now, but pretty soon... don't be cruel to him, cut Dean loose. Be fair to him.
'You know I'd love to, baby girl... maybe later today.' Sighing, she let the rejection further deflate her dejected state of mind.
"Alright... oh, hey, for that care package... could you toss in some beers, doesn't matter what kind–I get the feeling that the boys are really going to need it." Ending with a yawn, the statement held no excitement, no sense of peace or happiness, she just sounded tired and sad.
'Baby, you sound exhausted. Go back to bed and Brotha's little helpers will be there before you know it.' With a sigh, she presented her goodbyes and hung up the phone.
Inside the house, the older brother woke with a mysterious start, looking about himself wildly prior to recognition slipping sluggishly back to him. Nadia's room. Her bed... her injuries... her loss... oh god, her sister.
...where the hell did she go? He thought sleepily, rubbing the small of his back as he sat up; a sore reminder from the night before screamed throughout the muscles of the man's back. She was all drugged and shit from the hospital... couldn't have gone far... Braving the pained protest of multiple bruised muscles, Dean promptly removed himself from the bed in search of the injured and drugged orphan that had been lying next to him the last time he'd looked. His eyes had just landed on the disconcertingly naked spot on the kitchen counter where he'd always seen a pack of Parliament Light cigarettes and an aquamarine blue Bic lighter... when Nadia wasn't outside smoking, when he heard Missouri's take-no-bullshit/prisoners tone ring out clearly from the parlor room.
"Dean... baby, come into the parlor for a minute..." She sounded strangely upset, like she wasn't about to reprimand him for his thoughts, whether he was actually going to carry them out or not. A cold tinge of fear stabbed at the inside of his gut in tiny pin-pricks. Something not right... something's definitely wrong here...
He'd never know how much he should have ignored her call.
Spinning on his heel he padded off towards the voice. And the scene that greeted him when he arrived... by god, he'd never seen the two people within the tiny room looking so miserable.
"What? What's happened now?" the only reply that graced the irritated hunter was something he honestly would never have expected... ever. Missouri shot up, ran to Dean and hugged him tightly. Consolingly. And Jeezy-Creezy did it scare the hell out of him. And if he'd thought that was scary enough...
Sam looked up from the spot on the floor he was trying to burn to a crisp with his intense gaze, glassy, blood-shot eyes tore through his older brother. "Dean... dad's dead."
Yay, so, new chapter... hope you enjoyed it. I've got the next one pretty damn close to being ready. Sorry again for taking so long to update!
Reviews love!