Well, this might be my longest chapter yet. I'm starting Nightsifter, but this chapter is more Nikki-centric. I know it may seem random to put this in here like this, but it'll make sense in later chapters. It may not seem like it, but I have a plan.
August first! I hope you all wrote 'CROATOAN' on your arm, 'cause I did. I had my friend write it, only she wrote it with these markers made for fixing scratches on leather sofas or something. And her older brother says it's not gonna be completely off my arm for at least a month, and it's still WAY too hot where I live for long sleeves. On a side note, I'm very excited to go to the open house/orientation for my junior year next week; we get to meet our teachers an talk with them and stuff. :|
I WANNA GIVE A HUGE HUG AND A CUPCAKE TO ALL OF YOU WHO REVIEWED MY LAST CHAPTER! You have no idea how much I was smiling and how accomplished and loved I felt as I read them! This chapter might not be as exciting, but I know you guys can get at least five reviews on this one. Let's aim for ten, shall we? ;)
~Christianne
Nikki POV
"Have I told you I hate you a little bit?" I said loud enough to be heard behind the closed door.
"Yeah, every time you bitch about not getting Chinese food." Dean yelled back.
"Well, I wouldn't 'bitch' about not getting Chinese food if you got Chinese food!" I snapped, poking my head out of the bathroom door.
"If I wanted Chinese food, I'd go to China." Dean snapped at me.
"No, you wouldn't, 'cause that'd mean getting on a big, scary airplane!" I mocked him. I let out a yelp when he threw a dirty shirt at me and shut the door quickly.
"You still have your knife?" Dean snapped at me, ignoring my airplane jab.
"Yes. And I still hate you a little bit." I said as I opened the bathroom door, running a towel through my wet curls. "Why can't I go?"
"'Cause three FBI agents is suspicious." Dean reasoned, an annoying, smug grin on his face.
"So what?" I said, tossing my wet towel at his face. He made a face as he dodged it. "I don't like just sitting here!" I said, frustrated, as I dug through my duffle bag for an over shirt. "Damnit, where'd my red thermal go?"
"Don't know. Don't care." Dean grumbled, tying his tie in front of the mirror. He looked at me in the reflection. "'sides, walk around like that, you won't be the only one with a hopeless, big, fat, crush."
"Shut up!" I said loudly, throwing an empty paper coffee cup at him. "The threat still stands! Hawthorn!" Dean just rolled his eyes, then looked me up and down a little.
Feeling a little self-conscious, I glanced down at my torso, clad in a gray tank top that was a little more fitted than it used to be (due to my new intake of greasy food, thanks Dean. Yeah, some of it may be been muscle, but still. I blame Dean). You could see the edge of my dark pink bra on the sides, and the lines under my tank. In a different situation, I would have thought I looked pretty good.
"So, you're going to the jewelry store?" I asked, still going through my duffle bag.
"Yeah." Dean said as he went through his usual check list, starting with the clip of his gun. He chuckled once. "Gotta love jewelry stores. They always have the really hot girls workin' the counter."
I sighed as I paused my search for my thermal. "You're a pig." I said casually.
"Shut up." Dean grumbled, slamming the newly reloaded clip back into his gun.
"You know, my ex-boyfriend lives here…Milwaukee." I said as I stood up from my duffle bag, frowning as I pulled my gun from it; Sam much have tossed it in there. I tried not to keep my weapons next to my panties. There was something…unladylike about it. I had one hand on the crown of my head, holding my damp, curling bangs back, while the other was on my cocked hip, still holding the gun.
"Really? Thinkin' about lookin' him up? Show up in that Charlie's Angel's reject get-up you got goin' on there, maybe you'll loosen up a little." Dean said with a small smirk. I made a face at him and put my pistol in the green duffle with the rest of Sam and Dean's weapons—Away from my panties.
"Nah, Percy kinda lost his appeal to me after I saw him doing things to my best friend that I'd never let him do to me." I said, going through my backpack now. "Sorta cut both of them out."
"C'mon, I'll bet you forgave her." Dean said, a smirk on his face.
"Him." I sighed.
"Huh?" Dean asked.
"Him. My best friend in college was a dude named Aaron." I said flatly. When Dean didn't say anything, I looked over at him, and saw him looking at me with a blank, almost shocked expression.
"You-You mean he was-"
"Yup." I confirmed with a short nod.
"But…You-You and him—"
"Oh yeah. Explained a hell'a'va lot about him, though." I laughed a little at the end, but it didn't sound real. "Shame, really. Like they say; all the nice guys are married or gay." I said with a cynical smile.
"What about me?" Dean asked, sounding mildly offended as he put a knife on his belt.
I rolled my eyes again. "There are exceptions to every rule." I said sarcastically, tossing my backpack down.
"Hey," Sam said as he entered the motel room and pulling a cheap tie from the plastic bag. He'd lost his a few motels ago and made a quick stop at one of the stores here in Milwaukee to get a new one.
"Yeah. Get changed." Dean said as he straightened his tie.
"Sam, have you seen my red thermal?" I asked before he went in the bathroom. He just looked at me before he answered.
"Uh…Y-yeah, I think it's in my backpack. You were wearing it when you fell in the pool back in Connecticut, right? You were still out cold when it was done in Susan's dryer…" Sam trailed off, then shrugged awkwardly.
"I'll take a look. Thanks." I said, giving a small smile. Sam nodded a little before quickly going into the bathroom.
"Thanks a lot Glinda." Dean groaned. "Now I'm gonna have to wait for lover boy to take a cold shower."
I looked up from Sam's backpack to glare at Dean. "That is not going to become a thing." I snapped at Dean as I looked through Sam's backpack, referring to the Glinda (the Good Witch) thing. Once was cute. Twice was annoying. After three times, I had to put a stop to it.
45 minutes later, Sam and Dean were gone, and I was alone in the motel room.
Nothing worth watching on TV. Sam refused to give me the password to his laptop, so I couldn't do anything on there. I could only take so much Wiccan information at one time now; after the initial excitement and eagerness to learn wore off, it was starting to be too much.
From what I understood, I was the reincarnation of some big bad and powerful witch from way back when, which meant that I was more than three times as powerful as the ordinary and documented witches I was reading about. I had the power in me to do things that were never even considered to be possible in the books I was reading. Truth be told, it scared me a little.
Giving up on finding something to entertain me, I turned the radio on, volume low, and just sat there. After a few minutes of sitting and listening to the grainy radio I gave up on 'something to do,' and headed to my herb bag. I pulled out a bottle with a green/brown powder in it and pulled the cork out. After tapping a little of the braken fern dust into my water bottle, I chugged it down and snuggled into one of the beds.
Braken fern was a sleep-inducing plant. Just a small amount helped you get to sleep, unlike other herbs that put you to sleep and made you stay asleep, braken fern just relaxed you enough to get to sleep.
Braken fern has another use; promoting lucid dreams.
I didn't remember than until I sat up, and I wasn't in the motel room.
As I looked around, all around me I just saw white. No distinguishable floors or ceilings, just white. Nothing in the white, no one in the white, just…nothing.
But I didn't feel like I was alone. Actually, I haven't felt alone in a long time. You could say that was because I was with Sam and Dean now, but it wasn't that. Just sitting in a motel room, alone, I should have…felt alone. And I didn't. At first I thought it was Jane, but it didn't feel like Jane.
Jane felt like a friendly presence; ready to help me with whatever I needed and learn something from me at the same time.
Now, alone in this white expanse of nothing, I felt like I was being watched. Observed might even be the better word. When I was awake I wasn't able to catch (for lack of a better word) the presence and find out who, or what it was. But when I was dreaming, when I was inside my own head, I was more in tune with my abilities.
"I know you're here, alright?" I said loudly, standing up and spinning in a slow circle. "I know you're here. So come on, come out and show yourself."
Nothing.
"You know what? You don't get a choice!" I said louder. "You're the one constantly in my head. This I my dream, and I say; get your ass down here where I can see you!"
There the sound of a large bird taking off behind me, and I spun around.
"Chris?" I asked, shocked to see my foster brother standing a few yards in front of me, dressed in a plain pair of jeans and a gray long sleeved shirt with the sleeved pushed up to the elbows, seemed to glance down at himself.
"Not exactly." Chris said, a smirk on his face.
"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously, trying to will a knife into my hand.
"I'm not Chris, exactly." 'Chris' explained. "I just look like him." I narrowed my eyes at him.
"'ya see, this, is what a non-threat looks like to you. When you ordered my ass down here I had to go through that screwy head of yours to find something you wouldn't automatically attack. Would'a picked that Winchester kid, but that would be awkward." He said, a silly, very un-Chris like smile on his face.
I raised an eyebrow at 'Chris.' He groaned and his head lolled to one side. "Fine. Be that way. I'll prove it to you." He said suddenly.
He pulled a long, pointed knife from his pocket, and dragged it across his forearm. "Not sure about you, but I don't think that's inside your big bro." 'Chris' said, holding his arm out towards me. I took a cautious step forward and my mouth went slack as I saw the man's arm. Instead of red blood dripping out of his arm, a bluish-white light was seeping and glowing from the cut.
"What the Hell…" I trailed off.
"Awesome. I know." 'Chris' said, shaking his arm slightly, making the cut disappear.
I took a step back and looked for the knife 'Chris' had cut himself with. If one of us was going to have a weapon, it'd better be me. I'd had Yellow-Eyes in my head one too many times to be unarmed in my own head.
"It's gone." 'Chris' said, rolling his eyes. "Jeez, Dean turned you into such a worrier." I glared at him.
"Why are you in my head?" I demanded.
"Will you stop with the Wicca-hunter-interrogator thing? I'm your buddy here, anything you wanna know, just ask." He paused to think. "Ask nicely."
"Why are you in my head?" I repeated, a little less harsh than before.
'Chris' shrugged. "Well, I'm sorta responsible for you. Not really, but the douche who isresponsible for you isn't doing the job to my standards." 'Chris' said, still smiling that smug, mischievous un-Chris like smirk.
"Who is supposed to be responsible for me?" I asked, relaxing a little. I wasn't getting a violent vibe off this guy, he really wasn't gonna hurt me.
'Chris' snorted and shook his head. "Sorry princess, can't let you know the big secrets. I'll just be robbing you of the adventure and injuries of finding out on your own. Walk with me." 'Chris' said, gesturing for me to follow him as he turned.
"I'm not saying I can't drop hints," 'Chris' said as we walked through the white nothingness. "So, come on, ask me all those questions you're just dying to ask."
"Who are you really?" I asked, a small amount of suspicion in my voice.
'Chris' shrugged and loomed ahead. "If you're asking my name," he stopped and shrugged again. "Got a lot of them. They all pretty much mean the same thing though."
"And that meaning would be…?" I trailed off.
"Ah-Ah-Ah," 'Chris' said, wagging a finger at me. "I told you hints only. No big spoilers."
I frowned and looked ahead again. "How long have you been my self-proclaimed babysitter?" I asked.
"Since the day you were born." 'Chris' said automatically.
I looked at him doubtfully. "If that's true, you've done a piss poor job." I snapped.
'Chris' hung his head as we walked. "Like I said. The real guy's standards are complete crap. But he's still in charge of you. He'd rip me limb from limb if he knew I was even talking to you."
"Why risk it?" I asked him. "I mean, I'm not that special."
"Oh no, no no no, you are thatspecial, kiddo." 'Chris' told me. "And I'm the defiant one in the family. I don't take orders well." He said with that same stupid grin.
I wrinkled my nose a little as we walked. "You still did a crappy job." I muttered, thinking of all the late night ER visits, shitty foster homes and missed school days due to black eyes.
"Did I?" 'Chris' asked, a knowing, mischievous look in his eye.
"Yeah," I said, putting as much attitude as I could into the word.
"Do me a favor, when you leave the little La-La Land you have in your melon, do a web search for me; unsolved killings in Ogdensburg, Wisconsin. Might wanna look at the missing persons for that cute little hometown of yours while you're at it." 'Chris' said, his eyes flashing with a reckless danger that instead of making me cautious, made me excited.
"Fine." I said, walking forward again.
"Have you ever had a funnel cake?" 'Chris' asked randomly.
"Yeah, at the fair. Why?" Just as I got the question out, the white blankness around us melted away.
I looked around in awe at the new scene before me. The sun was beating down on my head, there were booths with the classic fair games set up, the rickety looking rides, and even the smell of farm animals.
"This is the county fair." I said, looking around. "This-This is the Marinette County Fair." I said, still turning in circles as I looked around.
"They-They haven't had one of these since 2002…didn't have enough money." I trailed off, seeing 'Chris' walking towards me with two funnel cakes; one dusted with powdered sugar, the other drenched in chocolate sauce, sprinkles, gummy bears, M&Ms, and every other topping you could imagine.
"Greg, Olivia, the real Chris and I used to camp on the grounds." I said, taking the powdered sugar funnel cake. "There's this huge camp ground in the back, far away from the barns and stuff. Every night, all the kids would have this huge bonfire there. We'd bring all our school papers from the previous year and burn it."
'Chris' nodded as he sucked the chocolate sauce off a Red Vine before eating it. "Yeah, you had a lot of fun here." I looked at him oddly. "I kept a closer eye on you when you were a kid. By the way, when you hurled on the Zipper when you were 8, wow. I didn't know so much puke could be in one little human!"
"Shut up!" I said, shoving his shoulder as I ate my funnel cake.
We found a low fence to lean on as we ate and people watched in silence.
I looked at 'Chris' a few times out of the corner of my eye. We weren't that different. Had the same basic mannerisms, the way we sat, ate, even the way to talked sometimes. It was that reckless, slightly dangerous look in his eye that made me think about this.
When I was 16 and got my driver's license, the real Chris drove to the middle of nowhere and stopped his car in the middle of the highway. He got out and handed me the keys. Told me he had a friend coming to pick him up in a few minutes, and to get in the car and drive until all the anxiety about being behind the wheel was gone.
I did, and after a few hours of going up and down the same 40 miles of middle of nowhere highway I felt more comfortable behind the wheel of Chris's car than I did in school.
I remember looking at my reflection in the rearview mirror; my eyes, usually looking down and away from people, had a confidence and recklessness I'd never seen in them before.
Pressing harder on the gas pedal, I saw the speedometer needle pass 70. 80. 85. 90.
It wasn't until I was scratching at 110 that I looked in the rearview mirror again.
Reckless. Anxious for danger. Mischievous. Excited. Adventurous.
"Guy who looks like Chris?" I asked, brushing powdered sugar off my shirt.
"Hm?" He asked, mouth full of funnel cake and toppings.
"Are you, like…my dad? Or something?" I asked. What the hell, you know? This was all a dream anyways.
'Chris' chuckled and swallowed. He laughed for a little, but it was a cynical, insincere laugh. "Sorry princess. Not your daddy."
"Who else would risk getting torn limb from limb to watch me hurl on the Zipper?" I challenged.
'Chris' wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tossed the rest of his funnel cake in the trash can.
"Listen, Nikki," 'Chris' said, looking serious as he turned towards me. "Who I am in relation to you, that doesn't mean anything. Who your dad is isn't something you need to be worried about either, got that? I'm lookin' out for you. That's all you really need to know at this point. Got that?"
"Yes, I got that. I still don't understand why-" I started to protest.
"I knew your mother, ok?" 'Chris' snapped suddenly. "I knew her. I was supposed to keep her safe, alright? I didn't! I got to close, and got punished. Stepped back like they told me too, she dies, I got punished. They don't look at me the same since she died!"
"So what? Babysitting me is your way of making peace with the fact that you got my mother killed?" I said, almost yelling. I was surprised that no one was staring.
"No!" 'Chris' bellowed. I jumped as a loud crack of lightning streaked the clear sky.
I took a few steps back from 'Chris,' who, for the first time since he appeared in my white dream space, scared me.
'Chris' shook his head and scrubbed his ace with his hand. "Look, kiddo. I've put in a lot of effort to get you this far. 'cause I know what you can do and know what your limits are."
I straightened from my defensive stance and stared at him expectantly.
"There are thousands of eyes on you every second of everyday. Only a few, like me, actually care about you and your squishy gushy human-y feelings." He paused and his jaw clenched before he finished speaking.
"I'm not your dad, princess. Would I kick a kid like you out my door? Hell no. I think we'd have a swell time raising a little organized Hell on Earth. But if you actually were my kid?" 'Chris' seemed to scoff, then he shook his head.
"What?" I asked hesitantly, wanting to know what he was thinking.
"Kiddo, if you were my spawn, you wouldn't even be you right now." 'Chris' said. He sounded almost sad.
He looked at the watch on his wrist and sighed. "Time for you to go back." He said, walking towards me.
"Whoa whoa whoa, what the Hell are you-"
The harsh ringing of my phone woke me up.
I opened it up with my chin and smacked it to my face. "What?" I groaned.
"Hey, it's Sam."
"Oh. Hi." I said, sitting up.
"Just left the jewelry store. We're going to talk to a security guard. Gonna be a little longer that we thought." Sam said.
"You've already been gone for, like, a few hours." I said, falling back onto the bed.
"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, confused. "We've left the motel less than 45 minutes ago."
Frowning, I looked at the clock on the wall. They had been gone for less than 45 minutes.
"Oh…Must'a fallen asleep…Dreaming, you know? Messes you your sense of time." I reasoned.
"Yeah…Anything you wanna talk about?" Sam asked, referring to my dream.
"Nothing about the demon, Sam." I sighed, rubbing my face with my free hand, trying to wake myself up. I frowned as I felt something on my forehead. "Bring food when you get back, would'ya? Not burgers."
Sam said sure and bye, but I wasn't listening. I hung up and walked to the mirror, holding my bangs off my forehead. I wrinkled my nose as I looked at the shiny, faintly brown smear on my forehead.
"What the Hell?" I said under my breath, wetting a washcloth wet to get whatever it was off my face.
After the smudge was gone, I looked at the brown smear on the white washcloth. Frowning, I cautiously raised it to my nose and gave a sniff.
Chocolate?