Well, here's the next chapter. Sorry it's so short...Enjoy! :)
~Christianne
Nikki POV
I sighed and kicked the ground with the toe of my Converse. I was leaning on the front of the Impala outside the dinner Sam and Dean where currently inside. They were pretending to be FBI agents, or insurance people, or lawyers, something like that. After I was told that I couldn't come into the dinner with them I just stopped listening.
So, I was outside, picking at my nails and enjoying the sun as best I could.
While I was trying to appreciate the rays of warm sun on my face, my mind was still wandering to the last episode of weirdness that was the dream I'd had on the drive here.
I was…After a good hour of thinking in the backseat, I still had no idea where I was in my dream. But, where ever it was, I didn't want to be there. I felt like I was being pulled four different ways, almost by four different people, and they were all yelling at me.
When I woke up, the only thing I really remembered from my dream was 'Memento, et pugnat.' No idea what it meant, but I felt like I should. I felt like I should recognize the words and do something.
The pondering of the inner workings of my mind was interrupted when someone across the street turned on a radio. Country music made its way over to me, and I swear blood was going to come out of my ears.
I looked over my shoulder, and saw a few middle aged guys sitting outside a closed bar on lawn chairs, a radio on the ground between them, blasting songs about broken pickup trucks and girlfriends who walked out.
The men were laughing loudly as they drank, turning up the radio now and then.
When I'd really had enough, I turned to face them more, and stared at the radio, using the power I knew I had to try and turn the damn thing off, or at least to another station.
I took a few deep breaths, my eyes squinting against the sun to stare at the radio.
A few concentration-filled moments passed, and the radio's volume didn't change.
In fact, it started to get louder.
I let out a frustrated huff, and turned completely around. Both hands on the hood, I stared at the radio, and the volume continued to grow. The men around it tried to turn it down, and where yelling at each other over the music.
The volume kept growing until it was nothing more than a high pitched ringing, causing the men to cover their ears and swear in pain.
The next thing I knew, the four men where on the ground, blown back from a, surprisingly large, explosion that came from the radio. Melted and mangled pieces of plastic and metal rained down on the men, who cussed and hissed when the falling remains of the radio hit them.
I watched in shock as the hillbillies ran around, trying to get rid of the sting of the falling plastic. I brushed a hand under my nose.
No blood.
I looked back at the remains of the radio, still falling from the sky.
I never thought I'd be able to do something like that.