Nikki POV

I shut my book, then shoved it roughly off my lap onto the floor. I crossed my arms and glared at the leather cover. I'd gone through my last book as slowly as I could, four days. Now, I literally had nothing to do.

"…You ok, Nik?" I heard Dean ask slowly. I glanced up at him before shrugging. He still had that long gash on his forehead. He'd had Sam take out the stitches a few days ago, that was interesting.

The whole ordeal lasted three hours and ended with me cooking up a fowl smelling greenish drink for Dean that would knock him out for about five minutes, and then me thanking God for a strong stomach and knowing the basics of sewing; which included knowing how to remove stitches without tearing the fabric, or, you know, skin.

"Last one." I sighed, glaring at the book again.

"So, what? You're done? Mastered your witchy talents?" Dean asked, not sounding interested at all.

"Nope. I still have at least ten more'a those back at my house in Janesville." I told him, eyeing him as he systematically got a beer from Bobby's fridge and used a bottle opener on the counter to pop the lid off.

Dean had been almost robotic the last few days, not that I blamed him. He just worked on the Impala, drank, and ate. I hadn't seen him sleep much, which explained the bags under his eyes. I fiddled with my fingers in my lap as Dean leaned on the kitchen counter and guzzled his beer.

"I've been thinking about going back to Janesville." I said, just trying to talk to Dean, get him to actually hold a decent conversation. He just quirked an eyebrow at me. "Just for a few days, two weeks at the most." I added, just trying to get a reaction.

"Well, it'll be a while before I have Baby runnin' again." Dean said gruffly. "We'll give you a lift-"

"I don't need you and Sam to escort me home." I snapped. "I'll ask Bobby if he has a car or something." Dean didn't say anything. I was getting kinda annoyed. At least Sam had a reaction when I had this conversation with him last night.

We were sitting in Bobby's dusty, book filled living room; me in a chair, Sam sitting on the floor and leaning on the left side of the chair I was in. We each had a slice of veggie-lovers pizza in our laps, well, I had a slice. Sam had at least two on his plate and had already eaten two.

"Oh," Sam said, realizing what I was talking about. "Well, I'm sure Dean wouldn't mind driving out there-"

"No," I said, cutting him off. "You two have a job to do, I'm sure Bobby has a car I can use. If not I can take the bus again."

"Nik…"

"Sam," I said in the same tone, cutting him off. "It's fine." He chuckled and shook his head, looking down at the floor. We sat in silence, well, the TV was on, but we didn't say anything. We both just blankly stared at the grainy 90s movie that was playing.

"Was it too much?" He asked me a few minutes later.

"Huh?" I asked. I'd been trying to force down the feeling of guilt building in my stomach by stuffing pizza into my mouth.

"The vampires, demons…having guns to your head," when he said the last one he almost smiled, I did.

"No, no it wasn't too much. I honestly can't think of a better adventure. I…I'm just a little homesick." I told him, being mostly honest. He nodded, understanding.

"But I'm gonna wanna stay in the loop about the demon," I reminded him. He looked up at me with a strange look on his face. His eyebrows pulled together and turned up in the middle and his jaw clenched. I thought he was going to say something; when I raised my eyebrows at him he quickly looked away and cleared his throat.

"Will do," he finally responded, finishing off his third slice. "You know, it was nice to have you on the road. I actually had someone to talk to other than Dean."

"C'mon, he isn't that bad," I said, nudging his shoulder with one of my crossed knees.

"Remind me to tell you what he did to me when I was 17," he told me, making me laugh. I gave him a playful nudge on the head, he had a lazy smile on his face as he let his head loll back into the seat cushion, his lengthy hair brushing my jean-clad shin. The swelling was gone from around his eye, but there were still some scabbing scratches around his it along with some fading bruises.

I really wanted to run my fingers through his hair. It was the little things like that; his messy hair, that made my heart swell up like a teenager. I took another bite of pizza and kept telling myself that a little time away from two of the best people in the world would de me good. I could keep going on my magic, refine my hunter skills (maybe hang a punching bag in one of the spare rooms or something), and give myself a little time to forget what Spirit Dean had brought up.

Sam picked his head back up and started on his fourth pizza slice. In a few minutes we'd lapsed back into silence. I finished mine, and rested my head on my arms folded over the arm of the chair. The 90s movie had changed to some reality show, and Sam had traded his plate for one of Bobby's books. My attention moved to the dusty reflection in the half-covered mirror across the wall from us. Sam had shed the button up he'd been wearing earlier, so he was just in a gray t-shirt that was snug enough to hint at the defined muscles that his normal two or three layers usually hid at.

When he was really focused on something his eyebrows got this little crease between them from pulling together slightly. It was adorable.

"You sure you don't wanna do one more with us?" Sam asked me. It felt like he was asking me to stay.

"Hm?" I asked, half asleep.

Sam turned around and saw I was curled up in one of Bobby's warn chairs, eyelids drooping. "Uh…I-I asked if you wanted to do one more job with us."

I inhaled deeply and shrugged. "You got one?" I yawned. Sam shrugged as he went back to his book.

"Hey…Nik…" Someone was shaking my shoulder. I murmured a little and tried to shake the hand off and go back to sleep. "C'mon, wake up." I heard Sam chuckle, shaking me a little more.

I groaned and snuggled deeper into the chair.

Interestingly enough, I woke up in one of Bobby's extra rooms the next morning.

Dean just shrugged again and left to go back outside, beer in hand.

I frowned and let out an annoyed groan. My final attempt to try and get him to actually say something just crashed and burned.

"Dean in here?" Sam asked as he walked into the book-cluttered living room. I jumped when he spoke. Sam had to be at least 6'3" and with how muscular he was, pushing 190, minimum. Given that, I swear he made absolutely no sound when he walked.

"Just left." I told him, frowning at the book on the floor.

"That your last one?" He asked, picking the book up off the floor. I nodded. He flipped through the pages and tossed it on the table with a frustrated frown on his face. I hadn't found a way for a normal person to read my books yet. I'd copied a few pages into a notebook for Sam, but neither Sam nor Dean could read it.

Between me and Sam, we decided it must have been a spell over the order of the words. I offered to read a few pages out loud, but Sam told me that I'd eventually find a spell or something that would let normal people read my grimouires. I think he said no 'cause me reading to him would make him feel like a 6 year old at story time (even that didn't get a real reaction out of Dean).

"Think I'm gonna head back today." I said, looking up at Sam from the floor.

I felt guilty. I didn't want to ditch Sam and Dean a week after they lost their dad, but, they had shit to work out, I had shit to work out; didn't make sense for me to drag my books along, and it didn't make sense to make them hang around my house. That'd be like having two mint condition Ferraris and keeping them in a garage.

"I think I got a job." Sam said just as I got the words out. "Found one'a my dad's phones, charged it up, cracked the voicemail code…" He trailed off as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a beat up phone. He flipped it open and pressed a few buttons. He held it out as a voicemail started playing.

"John, it's Ellen…again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me."

I had to admit, I was a little interested, but I wasn't going to change my mind.

"Call me if you need any help." I said with a small smile that came off a little sadder than I meant, as I got up from my chair. Sam nodded, staring intently at the closed phone as I walked past him.

I really wanted to give him a hug and tell him that it was all gonna be fine, that I was gonna come back when I actually knew what I was doing. But I didn't.

It only took me a few minutes to throw what I had into my duffle bag and ask Bobby for a keys to a working vehicle. He tossed me a set and nudged my shoulder, telling me to watch myself. I smiled, it was almost like he was worried about me.

I tossed my duffle bag into the bed of the rusty pickup truck, and my backpack into the cab. I heard Sam and Dean around the back. I walked around to the back of the house, where Dean had been working on the Impala, and was happy I walked over when I did. They looked like they were going to hit each other soon.

"Well, I'm heading out." I said, announcing myself. They both turned to look at me. Both of them looked a little disappointed when they saw me with a set of keys in my hand.

"Be sure to call." Sam said awkwardly as I walked closer.

"Aren't I supposed to say that?" I asked teasingly, making him smile. Even Dean's hard face flickered into a brief smile.

"Ok, c'mere," I said after a brief silence, arms open as I walked towards Sam. He rolled his eyes a little but hugged me. It wasn't like the hug he'd given me at the hospital, this was more like the quick squeeze at the motel. Both arms under my own, hunched down so his head rested on my shoulder. He gave me a crushing squeeze that lasted only a few seconds, then pulled back. I did the same, even though I wished I could have held on for a little longer.

"You too," I said, walking towards Dean with a smirk and open arms. He rolled his eyes, not playfully annoyed like Sam, more like a kid whose parents just told him to go give his weird aunt a hug. I hugged him anyway, ignoring his smelly, sweaty, greasy t-shirt.

"Damnit." He groaned, slinging one arm around my shoulders in a reluctant hug, less than half the time of my hug with Sam.

I smiled at both of them one more time before I gave a small, tight smile and an awkward wave as I headed back to the truck.

I'd asked Bobby how the engine was in the truck when he gave me the keys, and he just rolled his eyes and said 'Don't worry, it's got some kick to it.'

I stuck the key into the ignition, and sped out of the salvage yard at 50 miles an hour.