OK, this time, I mean it, 5 reviews. And, sadly, I'm lousing my insperation for this story. If any of you have any comments or something about anything, I welcome them with open arms and a plate full of cupcakes. :)
Enjoy the chapter!
~Christianne
Nikki POV
"Here." I handed Sam the screw-on cup from the thermos. He had a pained look on his face as he took it, and drank it the same way he always did; head tilted back, nose pinched.
He coughed once, then handed the cup back to me. "That never gets any better." He complained.
"I know." I agreed, pouring myself a cup of the same Cephalalgia Sam just drank. I think it was worse for him though, me being a Wicca and everything made it a little easier to handle potions and such.
We were stopped at a gas station in God-knows-what-state, with Dean currently inside getting gas station food, Sam and I were leaning on the back bumper with disgusted faces.
"Be right back." Sam said, heading towards the disgusting looking bathroom.
I screwed the cup-cap back onto the thermos and tossed it in the trunk. It had a few new additions to it; my duffle bag, backpack and an old canvas bag with my grimoires and other magical books in it.
"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked abruptly, two plastic bags in his hands.
"Bathroom." I said simply. Dean rolled his eyes and headed towards the men's room.
"Sam! C'mon! Zip up, time to hit the…road…" I heard him say, forcing the door open.
I instantly became concerned when I saw Sam coming out of the bathroom. He'd splashed water on his face, going by his damp hair and shirt collar, and he was rubbing his head as if in pain. He got into the passenger's seat wordlessly and slammed the door. I sent Dean a questioning look, which he responded to with a shrug.
The classic rock station was the only thing keeping me awake in the back of the Impala. That, and the pennyroyal blossom I'd tossed back with my crappy, packaged BLT a few hours ago. Sam and Dean's arguing wasn't exactly a lullaby either.
"I don't know, man." Dean grumbled. "Don't you think we should just chill out, think about this?"
Sam had had another psychic vision in the men's room of that gas station. I'd been absorbed in a few books, trying to decipher them or find something useful, so I'd only got the gist of the conversation.
Sam turned off the radio, getting my full attention. "What is there to think about?" Sam asked.
"I just don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea!" Dean defended himself.
"Whoa whoa whoa," I spoke up, recognizing the name. "The Roadhouse? The popular-among-hunters bar?"
"Yeah." Dean said flatly, not really paying attention to my question.
I raised my eyebrows at him. "And, you think it's a good idea for me to go there?"
I was ignored.
"Dean, it's another premonition. I know it. This is gonna happen, and Ash can tell us where. Plus, it could have some connection with the demon." Sam insisted. "My visions always do."
I shivered at the mention of the demon. After my dream last night, I was on edge.
"That's my point. There's gonna be hunters there. I don't know if-if going there and announcing that your some supernatural freak with a demonic connection is the best thing, ok? And Nik sure as hell isn't gonna help our case." Dean snapped.
"Hey!" I said, a little insulted.
"So I'm a freak now?" Sam asked in that sarcastic, yet insulted and hurt tone of his. His words threw Dean for a second, realizing exactly what he said. Dean did that a lot; said crap without thinking and said something snarky to blow past it.
"You've always been a freak." He finally said with a smile, clapping a hand on Sam's forearm, shaking him slightly before turning back to the road.
"Uh, hello?" I said from the back seat. "There's Wicca in the backseat who's not so thrilled about going to a hunter bar!"
"You'll be fine, Nikki," Dean said, rolling his eyes.
"If I get shot, Dean, I swear to God, I'm gonna haunt you." I threatened, leaning back in the worn leather as I crossed my arms.
"Hey," Sam said a few minutes later. His voice was just loud enough to be heard over the classic rock station Dean had turned back on. I looked away from the window to look at him.
"It really will be fine, you know. The Roadhouse, I mean." Sam said, a small, reassuring smile on his face. I tried to smile back, but the nervousness bubbling up in my stomach made that a bit hard.
I walked into the Roadhouse behind Dean, in front of Sam. My trust in hunters started and ended with Sam, Dean and Bobby. So, a bar full of hunters, with guns, knives, and other weapons that could inflict bodily harm, was making me jumpy and going against everything my instincts where screaming at me.
Dean walked ahead of me as Sam shut the door, and I took a few seconds to take in exactly what I was walking into.
The first thing I saw was a table with two guys leaning over a table, a map spread out on it. One was holding a large hunting knife, clearly used, and the other had a noticeable bulge on his hip, clearly a gun. The way they looked at us, mainly me, when we walked in made my heart stutter and my eyes drop to the floor to avoid their gazes.
"Nope. Sorry. Can't do it. I'll be in the car." I said quickly under my breath as I turned to go out the door Sam just shut.
His arm shot out, curling around my midsection, keeping me from going out the door and into the safety of the Impala. "Sam!" I hissed, trying to push out of his grip. That only ended with me putting both my hands on his chest and arm, feeling how firm they were.
"It'll be fine Nik," Sam muttered in my ear; unknowingly winning the battle just by being close enough to breathe on my neck.
I stopped struggling against Sam and turned around, but stayed close to his side. I crossed my arms tightly, my eyes darting around as Sam and I walked to where Dean was talking to a blonde girl.
"…Looks like. How'ya doin' Jo?" He asked the blonde, Jo, apparently.
She shrugged. "Fine…" She trailed off when we showed up and narrowed her eyes slightly at me. I didn't look away, but I crossed my arms tighter across my chest, the fingertips of my left hand brushed the grip of the knife I had on my belt; a small reassurance.
Jo looked at Sam. "This her?" She asked, ignoring me completely.
"Yeah," Sam said, nodding once. "Jo, Nikki." He said, gesturing along with the words. "Nikki, Jo." This time he pulled an arm around my waist. I involuntarily clenched my jaw as he did and willed myself not to blush.
Jo seemed to size me up, looking from my Convers (nervously tapping on the floor) to my hair (having been un-brushed for a day and a half and coming out of my braid). "Sam's told me a lot about you." She said, cocking her hip as she waited for a response.
"When you say a lot…" I trailed off nervously, jumping when someone slammed a glass down on a table.
"Yeah," she said, implying Sam told her that little secret of mine.
"Great." I muttered, sending a glare up at Sam.
He ignored it and patted my hip once. "Where's Ash?"
"In his backroom." Jo said, gesturing towards the back of the bar.
"Great." Sam said, taking his arm back. "Stay out here." He said before quickly walking to the back of the bar. Dean sent me one of those 'Don't make me handcuff you to the Impala for not listening to us' looks and followed Sam.
My arms tightened across my chest as I stood with Jo in the middle of the bar.
"Want a beer?" Jo asked breezily, walking around to the back of the bar.
I nodded eagerly, hoping alcohol would calm my nerves a little. I sat on a stool and fidgeted with my fingers as Jo used a bottle opener attached to the counter to pop the top off. Once she handed it to me, I just set it on the counter and scraped my thumbnails along the label nervously.
"Will you just relax?" Jo said, almost laughing as she drank from a glass she had behind the bar.
I just raised my eyebrows, not looking at her. "I feel like a minnow swimming in a tank full of piranha. It's only a matter of time before they notice me and eat me. Or…You know…Shoot me." I mumbled, frowning as the edge of my nail bent as it scraped against the smooth, dark glass too hard.
Jo looked at me almost sympathetically. "Sam said you where new at this. But from what he and Dean told us you did, I expected you to be…" She trailed off, like she was trying to find the right word.
"Braver?" I asked wryly, finally taking a drink of the beer I had.
"Yeah, well, no, not braver," Jo said, shrugging. "Just, more…more, confident, you know?"
I shrugged, scraping at the label on my bottle again. "Confident…" I repeated, laughing once as I took another swig of beer.