Another chapter! This chapter is super-holy-crap-long, on account that Supernatural is returning tonight!
Sorry I didn't get another chapter up yesterday. Wasn't really feeling up to it.
I'm feeling a lot better today (Thank you, by the way ixistargirl89ixi. I think your review helped me feel better!), and went to school, which now feels like a mistake due to the amount of homework I should be doing.
Well, I better go do my homework so I'm not doing it after the episode tonight…
-Christianne
Nikki POV
Ten minutes later, I walked out of the kitchen, with two golden brown waffles. One with a small, round scoop of butter in the center, the other a heavy dusting of powdered sugar. I set the one without powdered sugar in front of Sam and the other slightly kitty corner from his. He looked from the waffle, then to me, a slightly stunned look on his face.
"Uh...Thanks, but you didn't have to-" Sam started to decline the waffle.
"Look," I started, cutting him off. "I didn't want to waste any batter." I said with a shrug. "Eat it, don't eat it, you choose." I told him, reaching under the counter to the plastic tubs with clean silverware in them.
"But," I added before he could speak. "I have been told I make the best waffles in the state." I smirked as I held the fork out to him.
Sam narrowed his eyes slightly at me, but my smirk didn't waver. He let out a defeated sigh and grabbed the fork. I heard him mumble something, but it was too low to understand, as he cut into his waffle. He shifted his gaze back to the binder as he dunked it into the melted butter.
I looked up from pouring syrup on my own waffle to see Sam's eyes widen slightly as he bit the waffle piece off his fork. He didn't look up from the binder, didn't say anything either. But I knew he liked it. Everyone liked my waffles. It was just a known fact.
"How'd Jane's mom die?" Sam asked about ten minutes later, his mouth full.
I reached over my own, now half full, plate and flipped back to one of the front pages. "She was visiting family in Georgia in early 1861. Her carriage was caught in some early crossfire. Jane was 10 or 11 at the time." I sighed, taking another bite of my waffle. "It's sad really. She's not even buried here."
"What?" Sam asked, quickly swallowing the food he had in his mouth. "But here," He paused to flip through the binder to one of my neatly typed note pages. "It has the inscription for her headstone that was going in the cemetery on the Howard property."
I shrugged, nodding to Travis as he walked in through the back. "It was more of a symbolic thing, you know? They ended up putting one of Gretchen Howard's favorite dresses in a coffin."
"Oh..." Sam said, trailing off in deep thought. "And-And where's the Howard house?" He asked, I saw him grab a pen from his unused laptop bag and a scrap of paper.
"Just outside town." I started, flipping to a more current map of town. "It's circled in red."
"The red path says 'home.'" Sam said, sounding completely confused.
"Yeah," I said slowly. "My great aunt lived there until her stroke a few years ago. It was being renovated, had to move out, done being renovated yesterday, I moved back in."
Sam's face flickered with worry, then went back to the indifferent look it normally had. "Oh." He said simply.
"Nicolette," I heard a gravelly voice say from the door. It was as about enthusiastic as it got.
"Hey Jeremy," I called, hoping he got my message and let Dean into his garage and finishing off my waffle. "You done?" I asked Sam, gesturing to his plate.
"Oh, yeah, thanks," he said, giving me a polite smile as I went back to the kitchen to wash off his plate as well as my own. I was alone in the kitchen, Travis was trying to get Wendy out of bed; it was his day. One thing I loved about this kitchen, was that it was you could hear what people at the bar where saying. It was like because you were behind a door, they thought you went deaf.
"So...You one'a them boys with that damn black Impala that's takin' up all'a the room at m'shop?" I heard Jeremy ask Sam, no doubt as he sat next to him, resting an arm on his cane.
"Uh...Yes sir," Sam said after clearing his throat.
"You'da one who cussed out Max's brother cuz' 'e didn't let'cha use 'is tools all night?" Jeremy asked him.
"Uh, n-no sir," Sam stuttered out. I rolled my eyes. Jeremy had this way of staring at someone and making them feel uncomfortable and intimidated.
"Damn," Jeremy sighed. "I owe that boy a drink. Somebody cussin' out Hank is long over due."
Sam laughed once. "I'm sure my brother will take you up on that offer."
"What's your name boy?" Jeremy asked him.
"Sam," -Cryptic-and-Mysterious said.
Jeremy sighed. "Boy, I may not be the law, but I wanna know who's in my town and who's talkin' to my lil' Nikki. And 'Sam' ain't good enough."
"Winchester. Sam Winchester." Sammy mumbled out a moment later. I heard Sam type on his laptop, and Jeremy leaned back in his chair.
"You said your brother was the one with the cussin' and the car?" Jeremy asked a moment later.
"Yes sir," Sam muttered, sounding almost upset he had to admit he was related to his cussing, green eyed brother.
"'Is name wouldn't be Dean, by any chance, would it?" Jeremy asked casually.
"...It might be." Sam said slowly, I dropped a dish in the sink as I heard his tone. Normally, it was a calm voice, with the occasional happy, teasing tone, but this was downright menacing. Almost scary.
"Don't get all mother-hen on my boy," Jeremy grumbled. "I knew 'yer daddy. Johnny was one'a'da dumbest, punk-ass hunn'ers I ever met...Never thought a slab a fresh meat like 'im'd teach this old pro sumthin' new."
"You knew our dad?" Sam asked, sounding shocked. "Have you heard from him lately? Has anyone you've talked to heard from-"
"Slow down boy," Jeremy snapped, chuckling at Sam before lowering his voice. "I been outta the game for long while and things have changed out there, but disscussin' things like this wasn't sumthin' I'd a'done with a nosy-Nelly like my lil' Nikki listenin'." Jeremy said in a hushed tone.
"...She's in the kitchen, I'm pretty sure-"
"Nicolette hunny? Get me a coffee would'ya?" Jeremy said, not raising his voice at all.
"Black? Like usual?" I asked, thankfully walking back out to the bar, so, maybe, if Sam wasn't as smart as I thought he was, he might think I heard Jeremy as I walked in.
"Yes darlin'," He said, sending me a mischievous grin. It'd been a long while since I'd heard that tone and seen that sparkle in his eye. Ah hell. He was planning something.
I rolled my eyes and got him his coffee. "I'll be back," I said, going over to take a few orders. Every now and then, in between running from table to table, counter to table ect ect, I'd look at Sam and Jeremy, who seemed to be in an in depth conversation. Later, around lunch, Dean joined them. They moved to a booth during the lunch rush, freeing up the bar space.
On my break, I tossed my apron at Wendy and skipped over to the table Sam, Dean and Jeremy were sitting at. "You wanna see where Jane Howard was tossed in the river?" I asked, a mischievous smile on my face as I looked at Sam.
"So, there used to be this plaque thing, on a post," I explained as me and Sam walked (more like slid) down to the banks. I was perfectly capable of going down the loose dirt slope myself, but Sam was constantly grabbing my upper arm to pull me up everytime he thought I was slipping. Not that I minded, I guess. But it bothered me a bit. I'm a girl, not a china doll.
"Used to be?" Sam asked as he grabbed onto a thicker tree branch, and hauled himself over a tree trunk in a way that could almost be called graceful. It was weird. I mean, the guy was big, 6'2" at the shortest. It was odd.
"Yeah, the city council thought it wasn't good for tourism." I said, rolling my eyes. "Idiots." Sam tried to hold in a laugh at my mild outburst.
"I'm serious!" I said, shoving his shoulder, proud of myself when he wobbled. "It's-It's insulting!"
"Insulting?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Yeah!" I said, frowning in frustration. "I mean, Jane Howard might not have even been a witch, and she was killed anyways. And now she's being ignored, like the whole thing was a huge stain on the city."
"When you told me the story last night you seemed pretty certain she was," Sam said, his voice laced with confusion.
I shrugged. "It makes sense on paper, but, come on, a witch?" I asked, chuckling at myself. "I guess I go back and forth. You can only rely on 100 year old documents so much."
"Ok, just over there," I said, stopping just as the dirt and trees turned into sand mixed with the gravel they poured on the banks each summer to stop erosion. In front of us was an old wooden building. It used to be (in Jane's day) the mayor's private boat house. There was a little apartment area on the second floor with a balcony, where they threw Jane into the river, I'd already told Sam all of this.
"You commin'?" He asked, looking over his shoulder after taking a few steps onto the gravely sand.
I had my arms crossed tightly over my chest, my right hand pressed tightly to my ribs that were throbbing with dull pain. I took a shaky breath and looked past Sam at the rushing river and the rickety boat house. I'd never been good with water, it scared me to death...And on the other hand, I'm pretty sure Sam (if he didn't laugh at me) wouldn't let me fall in and drown...And there was probably a ton of undocumented information about Janesville in there...
I took a shaky breath and put on a forced smile as I took a few steps onto the damp sand until I was walking in step with Sam. Well, walking next to him; I had to take two steps to match one of his long strides.
"You been in here before?" Sam asked me when we got to the door. I shook my head, staying silent. "Really? With all that research and digging you did, you never came here?" he asked as he tested the door knob.
"Never came up," I mumbled.
"...Is this place on private property?" He asked, eyeing the door frame and knob again. I shook my head no. "Historical site?" Again I shook my head no.
"No one really cares about it anymore," I said, a touch of sadness in my voice. I may be shaking I was so scared, but I knew the significance of this place.
"Ok," Sam said, sounding like he'd just made a plan. He took a step back, and gently pushed me aside.
"What are you-Ah!" I yelped as his foot came in contact with the rotted door, sending it completely off its hinges and flying back into the room several feet. We stood in silence for a moment of two after that.
"Nice." I amended, my head bobbing up and down slightly. Would have been laughing if my mind wasn't hazy from the sound of the rushing water.
Sam chuckled as he kicked off a jagged door piece that was stuck on the hinge. "Thanks," he mumbled, embarrassed (going by the pink coloring his cheeks).
He helped me over the remaining pieces, I was blushing of course.
It was sorta silent after that, I was looking around the part of the building closest to reals, solid ground, staying away from the part built over the water, unlike Sam. He blew through the first floor, stepping over holes in the floor that were open to the river.
"Hey, I'm gonna look up top," he told me, going to stand by the ladder. "You want to come up?"
"Uh...Sure," I managed, prying my hand off my ribs to climb up the wooden ladder. Once I was about half up, I heard Sam start climbing up after me.
"Ah!" I gasped in pain when my ribs abruptly started burning.
"Nikki? What happened?" Sam asked, his hand immediately coming to the middle of my back, easily helping me stay up, as my hand had smacked to my ribs. I took a few deep breaths, trying to suppress the pain. "Nikki?" Sam asked again.
"Yeah-No, no I'm fine," I said, struggling to keep my voice even. "Just...Uh...Just hit a splinter...I think it scared me more than it hurt me actually." I said, getting out a shaky laugh as I forced my hands to pull me up the ladder. I breathed a sigh of relief when I was able to stand on the floor and keep my hand pressed to my ribs.
"Hey," Sam said, calling me back to the small, uncluttered area in front of the ladder. I looked up at him, my eyes hopefully the picture of innocence. "You ok? You looked like you were in a lot of pain." His hand briefly rested on my shoulder, before he shoved it in his pockets.
"Oh, no, I'm fine," I insisted, smiling at him. "I guess I just have a low pain tolerance."
"Oh," Sam said, seemingly accepting my claim. His expressive eyes told me a different story though.
I felt a smile cross my face as I found a leather bound book under a thick layer of dust and other random objects. It looked like a ledger, made sense I guess; this places was the mayor's privet port. Well, the mayor bought it after Jane, the last remaining Howard, was killed. The mayor only kept it running for a few months before he locked the door and ignored it. I never could figure out why. Maybe, now that I had Sam with to, as Disney as it sounds, protect me, I could find out why.
"Huh," I said, leafing through the ledger, my brow furrowing in confusion.
"Find something?" Sam asked, dropping what sounded like a book to come and stand behind me.
"Eh...Not really." I said. "Hey, have you heard of arbutus, asafoetida or buckthorn?" I added before he walked away.
He'd been looking at a paperweight, but abruptly slammed it down on the table and turned the ledger to look at it. His eyebrows were furrowed as he ran his finger down the list, then moving the book closer to him.
"...Oh my God," he muttered, quickly grabbing the leger from the table and flipped through the pages. I could practically hear the gears in his head turning, so I left him to it.
I wasn't sure exactly what compelled me to go towards the open doors that lead to the balcony, but that's where I ended up. I cautiously stepped onto the overhanging porch, hearing the wood creek as I put my weight on them. My ribs throbbed, the pain growing more intense. I kept my hand pressed to them as I took another step out onto the balcony. I was far enough out to touch the flat railing. I grabbing it with my free hand, praying that if I fell through, the railing would stay up.
My breath caught in my throat as I felt deep gashes in the wood. I jerked my hand back the second I realized they were made by someone's fingers; someone holding on tight, holding on for dear life.
As I took my hand back, I whipped my head up, and my gaze fixed to something across the river. It was in the dark shadows, under the trees. My mind finally registered what it was, then, the pain came.
I gasped, but it came out sounding like a muted cough, thank god.
"H-Hey Sam?" I asked, my voice just barely shaking as I half-stumbled back into the building. "You...You think we could...You know, leave?" I asked.
His eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded instantly. "You ok? You look like you've seen a ghost." He chuckled a bit at the end. It sounded forced, just a bit. I shrugged, and headed to the ladder.
"No." Sam said quickly, looking like he was about to put a hand on my shoulder, but didn't. "Uh...You don't exactly seem...steady on your feet...Let me go down first." He mumbled, easily climbing down the ladder. I went down next, my hands holding onto the bars tightly so I didn't slide down.
"So..." Sam started, but ended up trailing off. We were walking back to town, and with every step I was grateful that I was walking farther and farther away from the pain in my ribs. I was walking comfortably with my hands in my jacket pockets. Sam copied me, the leger under one of his arms.
"I don't like water." I stated, looking at the gravel. "At all. Never have."
"I wasn't-" Sam started again, but I cut him off.
"It's fine." I said, smiling up at him. "I mean you'd have to be blind not to see how edgy I was the whole time I was in there." Sam's cheeks turned pink slightly as he looked at the gravel we were walking on.
"But, you know, aside from thinking I was going to break through the boards and drown the whole time, I had fun." I said as I opened the door to CJ's.
"Uh, y-yeah. Yeah, I-I did too," he said, fidgeting with his hands in his pockets. "Uh...See you later," he added, stuffing his laptop into his bag. "Mind if I borrow this for a little longer?" He asked, holding up the binder.
I shrugged. "Not doing me any use. I had to dig it out of a box this morning."
"Thanks," he said quickly, over the bells on the door.
I leaned on the counter, apron in hand, and sighed. He was a very odd man.
Not that I minded.