Well, since you got 5 reviews, you guys get another chapter!

5 more for another!

And, little announcement, I've been working on a Captain America fic for a few weeks, and am thinking of posting it. If you're a fellow Marvel lover and would like to know more about this little side project of mine, PM me.

~Christianne

Omniscient POV

Dean, standing in the middle of an empty lot, watched Andy drive his Impala away with Nikki in the passenger's seat.

Once it turned the corner, it really hit Dean that he gave Andy the Impala.

"Son of a bitch!" He yelled angrily, kicking the bumper of Andy's (awesome) van.

After calming himself down a bit, he took out his phone and called Sam.

On the other side of town, Sam walked out of the gun store.

He stopped in shock as he saw the Impala drive down the street, Andy at the wheel on his cell phone, and an annoyed and frustrated Nikki sitting shotgun. She caught his gaze as they passed, and mouthed 'Dean' while making the phone sign with her hand; her hand in a fist, pinky and thumb out.

If Sam hadn't been in shock, he would have taken off after the surprisingly slow moving car and thrown Andy through the windshield. It'd be gentle compared to what Dean do to him.

Why, though, seemed to spiral back to Nikki in the front seat.

Brushing the thought off, Sam pulled out his ringing phone. "Dean, why does Andy have the Impala and why the hell is Nikki in the front seat?" He demanded after answering.

"One at a time man!" Dean snapped, frustrated. "Andy just sorta asked me for the car, and I let him take it."

"You what?" Sam asked.

"He full-on Obi-Wan'd me. It's mind control, man." Dean explained.

Sam stopped, seeing the would-be-shooter walk in front of a bus.

"I kept him out of the gun store." Sam mumbled, sitting on the curb, Dean behind him. "I thought he was ok. I thought he was past it, at least…I should'a stayed with him."

Sam's phone ringing almost made Sam flinch.

"Hello?" He answered, distracted.

"The corner of Main and Water Street. I would like to continue hunting with you guys, so I'm not gonna drive Dean's car." Nikki said curtly, hanging up when she was done.

Nikki POV

I was leaning on the side of the Impala as Dean and Sam came jogging up.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," I heard Dean say.

"And you should be!" I said as Dean and Sam walked closer.

"Get off'er," Dean muttered, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me away from the car. "Oh baby, I'm so sorry." Dean all but cooed as he put his hands on the door. "I'll never leave you again."

I rolled my eyes as I walked towards Sam, who looked concerned. "Are you alright?" Sam asked urgently.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. A little creeped out, but fine." I assured him. I looked back at Dean, who was inspecting the outside of his car still. "He left the keys." I told him.

"Yeah, real Samaritan this guy." Dean snapped.

"It's verbal, his mojo," I started to explain. "Has to talk to you, verbal commands."

"The doctor had just gotten off his cellphone when he stepped in front of that bus." Sam stated, frowning. "Andy must've called him or somethin'."

"Did he?" Dean asked, looking at me.

I shrugged. "I don't know. After he asked me to if I wanted to fool around in the backseat in the woods I started playing Alannah Myles in my head, trying to tune him out. That is one screwy dude." I emphasized the last words, shaking my head.

Sam's eyebrows lifted. "And…He…You-You didn't-Did you and-and he-"

"Oh God no!" I giggled, covering my mouth with my hand to stop laughing. Once I'd stopped laughing, I shrugged. "I dunno, guess it didn't work on me."

As Sam and Dean talked, I found myself siding with Dean more and more, as strange as it was.

"He doesn't seem like the stone-cold killer type." Dean defended myself. "That's all. And O.J. was guilty." He pointed out. Ok, that I didn't get. I really had to start paying attention when these two talked.

"Either way, how are we gonna track this guy down?" Sam asked, unhappy.

"That's not really the problem." I pointed out. "I mean, he drives a van with a stone-age stripper painted on the side." I reminded them.

"I told you." I sang as we walked up to Andy's van.

"Yeah yeah yeah." Dean grumbled, trying the back door. I heard him grumble that it was locked. As he stepped back to fumble around for his lock picks, I leaned down to look at the lock.

In Jane's journals, it said that she had been practicing magic-by-thought. She'd been able to do a few small things, like make a cookie fly off a tray to her plate (after an hour of concentration). But I'd passed her up. It took me six months to learn what had taken Jane her whole life to learn. Granted, I didn't have as much experience as her, but I knew things she didn't.

I bet I could unlock a crappy van.

Narrowing my eyes slightly, I took a deep breath and let my hand hover over the handle. Be unlocked. I thought simply, over and over again.

"Nikki, what are you-" Sam started.

"Shh!" I hissed, concentrating again.

Be unlocked. I thought one more time, then reached for the handle and pulled.

It opened.

"I did it." I said, surprised. "I did it!" I said again, much more excited.

"Good for you." Dean muttered, clearly not knowing how big this was. I frowned at him, crossing my arms. Sam nudged my shoulder and sent me a smile, making me feel all fuzzy inside.

"Oh, my, God." I said, shocked, as I stood between Sam and Dean, looking into Andy's trailer.

"I know," Dean said in the same tone. "This-This is magnificent."

I don't know what Dean was looking at, but I was looking at the back of a van with a disco ball on the ceiling, a tiger poster on the wall, and old blankets with stains I don't wanna know the story behind.

"Magnificent." Dean repeated. "That's what this is."

"Uh-huh, sure." I said slowly. "Not really the living space of a serial killer though." I pointed out.

"Yeah, no clowns on the walls." Dean said, nodding. "Or scissors stuck into pictures."

I rolled my eyes and started to look through some of the unstained objects in Andy's van.

"Hegel? Kant?" Sam read off, surprised.

"Wittgenstein," I pointed out. "Jeez, even when I was a lit major I didn't read half this stuff."

"You were a lit major?" Sam asked curiously, looking at me.

"Yeah, for six months or so." I told him.

"Hate to break up the talk about the good ol' days, but don't you two think we should be…investigating…" He trailed off, lifting up a bong.

"You know, that actually makes sense." I admitted as we closed up the van. "The guy had a well-read copy of a General History of Nature and Theory of the Heavens. You've have to be stoned to read that more than once."