A little short...
5 reviews! ;)
~Christianne
Omniscient POV
As Dean pulled into the little house, both brothers turned to look at the back seat when a soft groan came from the unconscious brunette.
"You go ahead." Sam said, getting out of the car. Dean nodded and headed for the house. After his brother went into the house, Sam got out of the car and opened the door. He briefly looked her over, making sure nothing was bleeding again, before putting a loaded gun on the floor of the Impala. Just in case.
Sam got to the door just as Dean was standing up from his crouched position. "Done and done." He said, opening the door and putting his lock picks in his pocket. Sam walked in, trying the lights, and frowning as they didn't turn on.
"Hello?" Sam called, moving the beam of his flashlight around. "Is anybody home?" Dean did the same, walking ahead of his brother.
Everything seemed normal, until they got to the bedroom.
Blood on the floor. Even more blood from the dead body in the bed. The guy's chest was shredded.
"My God." Sam said, shocked.
While Sam looked at the nightstand, looking for anything that could help, Dean went towards the open window. He dragged his fingers through the powdery yellow substance on the sill, and brought it closer to his face, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger as he took a sniff; it smelled like rotten eggs.
"Hey." Dean said, making Sam turn away from the window he was looking out on the other side of the room, looking at the Impala where Nikki was still passed out. "Sulfur." Dean said, showing him the yellow substance.
"The demon's been here." Dean added, wiping his hand on a clean corner of the bloodied comforter.
Sam shook his head, and walked towards the door again. The toe of his shoe hit something on the floor, a light metallic clink followed. He bent down and picked the small, round object. He stood back up and let Dean see it.
"Ava."
Dean, who was cleaning his gun (for the fourth time in a row) let out a loud sigh. Sam, who was on his laptop, looked up and across the motel at his brother.
"How long is this gonna take?" Dean asked as he put his pistol aside and traded it for a shotgun, which he started to take apart to thoroughly clean.
"Bobby said it took a day, almost a day and a half." Sam said, looking and Nikki, who was still unconscious, on one of the motel beds. "And that was just from a spell. We have no idea what she was doing back there."
"Well, how long have we been here?" Dean asked, the barrel of the shotgun in one hand, a beer in the other. With anyone else that scene would have been slightly concerning, with Dean, it was normal.
Sam glanced at the clock on the wall. "About four hours." He said, smiling a little as he saw Dean's disbelieving expression. "Dude, just relax. Get some sleep or something."
Dean rolled his eyes and continued cleaning the shotgun.
"How do housewives do this all the time?" Dean groaned, throwing the remote down on the bed and crossing his arms. As far as motel television went, it had more channels than most of the other motels they crashed at, most of them being porn (which Dean thought was a good way to pass the time, but Sam told him he'd shove a the Impala keys somewhere they should never be if he watched porn with Nik unconscious in the next bed. Not that he would). The rest of the grainy TV channels were various soap operas and infomercials.
Nikki sighed heavily and rolled over, closer to the edge of the bed. She'd been mumbling more and more as it got closer and closer to the 24-hour mark. She threw an arm over the edge of the bed and sighed again.
Dean looked at the clock on the wall for the umpteenth time. Sam was on a food run, and Dean figured it would be about an hour; 20 minutes to drive to the closest store that didn't have a homeless guy peeing on the side of the building, 20 minutes shopping, 20 minutes to drive back.
Sam only left 15 minutes ago.
Maybe that teacher was onto something when she said I had ADHD in the eighth grade. Dean thought to himself as he put his arms behind his head, resting them on the wall behind the headboard.
Nikki made another noise, gaining Dean's attention. "Whoa whoa whoa," Dean said, quickly getting off his bed as he saw Nikki start to roll closer to the edge of the bed. He put a hand on Nikki's back, the other on the back of her head right before she fell off. As gently as he could, Dean tried to get Nikki back into the middle of the bed. She kept squirming and moving around.
"Oh screw it." Dean grumbled, picking Nikki up by her back and under her knees, and dropping her in the middle of the bed not-so-gently.
"Gah sdiv chis em," Nikki said after she was dropped onto the bed. Dean, who had already turned back to his own bed. He looked over his shoulder. Nikki hadn't been talking in her sleep, let alone in whatever language that was.
Nikki sighed, rolling onto her stomach. "Micalzo pilzin sobam el." She sighed. Brushing it off as something witchy, Dean went to get a beer. As he walked past Nikki's bed to the kitchenette, his knee hit the mattress.
"Harg mir pizin babalon od..." Nikki mumbled.
Dean stopped, his eyebrows furrowed as he thought briefly, before reaching down, grabbing the corner of the matrass in both hands and shaking it.
"Gah sdiv chis em. Micalzo pilzin sobam el harg mir pizin babalon od." Nikki said as Dean shook the matrass. Once he stopped, Nikki mumbled and rolled over.
So, she needed a kick start to sleep talk.
After going through a duffle bag, Dean came up with a tape recorder he and Sam used when hunting a ghost. He turned it over in his hands a few times before turning it on and putting it on the nightstand.
Sam was about to walk into the motel room, when Dean opened the door, pushing him back and shutting the door behind him. "Hey-What the-"
"You know that Nikki talked in her sleep?" Dean asked flatly.
Sam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "She does?" He didn't really like where this was going.
"Oh yeah." Dean said, agreeing with the understatement. He held up the recorder and pressed play.
"Gah sdiv chis em. Micalzo pilzin sobam el harg mir pizin babalon od. Obloc samvelg dlvar malpvrg arcaosgi od acma canal sobolzar. Fbliard caosgi odchif anetab od miam taviv odd darsar. Solpeth bien brita od zacam gmicalzo sobhaath train lviahe. Odecrin qaaon sdiv chis em micalzo pilzin sobam el. Harg mir pizin babalon od obloc samvelg dlvgar malpvrg. Arcaosgi od acam canal sobolzar fbliard caosgi odchif anetab. Odmiam taviv odd darsar solpeth bien brita od. Zacam gmicalzo sobhaath train lviahe odecrin qaaon." Nikki's voice was slightly distorted from the recorder, but it was undeniably Nikki.
"What's she saying?" Sam asked, setting the plastic bag of gas station food on the ground before taking the recorder from Dean, playing it back.
"Hell if I know." Dean muttered, taking the bag and digging through it.
Stuffing the recorder in his pocket, Sam walked into the motel room. He automatically went to Nikki, who was groggily trying to sit up.
"Hey hey hey, don't get up." Sam said quickly, helping her lay back down.
"My head hurts." She mumbled, slowly blinking as she looked intently at Sam. "You look like crap."
Sam laughed once, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, you aren't any better." Sam reasoned, eyeing her bruises and the gashes in her head from the multiple pistol whips she'd taken.
She made a slight face at Sam before sighing and falling back onto her pillow. "I hope something eats him."
Dean looked up from the plastic bag when he heard Nikki's words, and Sam's face contorted in confusion.
"Um…What?" Sam managed to ask.
"Gordon…I hope something eats him." She mumbled, her face squished against the pillow. "And not some vampire or werewolf, something really disgusting, like some sort'a swamp monster or a mummy."
Nikki heard both boys laugh before she passed out again.