Here is is!

~Christianne

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Nikki POV

Something cold was on my face.

I shot up, wiping the water from my face as I did so.

"Holy mother of crap," I cursed, grabbing my head. It came out slurred and slow. I fell back to where I was laying. "Ow." I said weakly as the back of my head hit the floor.

"I don't know what you did," Dean said, grabbing under my arms to pull me up. "But you gotta show me how to do it." He said, pulling one of my arms over his shoulders so he could help me stumble over to the couch. Dean let me fall onto the musty cushions, and I groaned. Every part of me hurt. I squirmed around until I was comfortably laying on my stomach

I looked up at Dean. "You look like Hell." I grumbled. The demon really did a number on him.

"Yeah? Well, you look like…Hell." Dean countered poorly, just mumbling at the end. I rolled my eyes at him. With that, he left the room, but I saw a small smile on his face.

I closed my eyes, trying to let myself fall asleep. It was harder than I thought it'd be, my mind and body were still on high alert.

Exactly 187 seconds later (I was trying the whole counting thing to try and get some sleep), I heard a soft creaking, and opened my eyes. My lips spread into a lazy smile. "Hey." I said, trying to sound as normal as I could when my throat felt like I'd gargled sand.

"Hey." Sam repeated, looking apprehensive and cautious. "Uh…" he trailed off, holding up a newer first aid kit. "Dean said your head was still in pretty bad shape."

"Sure feels like it." I said honestly. I waited for Sam to come in the room and clean it up, but he didn't move. He just stood there, at the door, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched and one hand holding his side.

"You can come in here, you know." I said slowly. "I know you don't bite." I added, trying to lighten the mood.

"I did a lot worse than bite earlier." Sam said automatically, his gaze dropping to the floor.

I rolled over, and used shaky arms to push myself into a sitting position. "Get your butt over here Sam." I groaned, holding my head with my bandaged hand.

I saw a smile flicker over Sam's lips before he slowly walked over to me. "Lay back down." He told me. I did as he told me to, laying back on my stomach so he could get at the bloody mass of brown hair at the back of my head.

Sam made an uncomfortable sound when he squatted down next to me.

"So…" I mumbled as he opened the kit. "What…What do you remember?" I asked hesitantly.

He didn't say much. "I…I remember…uh…"

"Whaling on me in the salvage yard?" I offered, trying to be joking, but he froze.

"It's all in bits and pieces." Sam said eventually. "I remember walking towards all the cars—the-the demon could….sense, you where over there. It shut me down after that…Next thing I know my hand is slamming you into the side of a van." Sam said quietly, his fingers working nimbly and quickly at the back of my head; getting the rest of the glass pieces Dean missed, and carefully cleaning the gash with gauze.

I slowly sat up, making my head spin slightly. I had to put a hand on Sam's shoulder to steady myself. "Ok, Sam Winchester, you listen to me, and you listen good." I started out. "This," I gestured to my head. "Is not your fault."

The look on his face proved that he didn't believe me. I frowned at him. "Hey, repeat it." I urged him. Sam sent me an exasperated look. "If you don't, Sam, I swear to God, I'll cast a mind control spell on you so fast you'll great-grandchildren will feel it." I threatened.

One side of his mouth quirked up, and he chuckled a little. "This isn't my fault." Sam sighed a moment later.

"Good." I said, nodding once. I laid back down so he could finish cleaning my head wound.

Sam ran a hand through my hair, pushing the curls out of the way. I shivered.

A low grown came from the back of Sam's throat and he grabbed my face with both hands, his fingers knotting in my hair as his torso pressed me tighter to the side of the car. I grabbed onto his neck so I wouldn't fall on the ground. Sam started trailing his lips down my neck again, he used his hand on the side of my face to tilt my chin up so he could get his face closer to my-

"Hey, you ok?" Sam asked, sounding concerned. I jumped a little when one of Sam's large, warm hand, rested on my shoulder, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on my back.

"Yeah…Yeah, I'm fine." I assured him, looking at the floor instead of his face.

Sam seemed satisfied with my answer, and moved so he was sitting with his back against the sofa. When he moved, he held his ribs with one hand, and his face pinched in pain slightly.

"Ribs?" I guessed.

"Yeah. I think I got a few cracked ones." Sam said offhandedly.

"Sorry." I mumbled, looking away. I peeked at him when he didn't say anything. I couldn't help but smile at his stunned, confused expression. "Well, what'd you think happened? That I let a demon take me down without getting a few good hits?"

Sam chuckle, wincing a little, grabbing his ribs as he kept laughing. "Well, no, but did you have to do so much damage? Hurts to breathe. Think you messed up my jaw too." Sam chuckled.

"I don't care how good looking you are, Sam Winchester. If a demon is running around in your body, I'm gonna leave a few reminders." I said, half-passed out. I saw Sam roll his eyes when I mentioned his good (drop dead freaking gorgeous) looks.

"Reminders?" Sam chuckled, putting one of his large hands on my shoulder when I jumped from the stinging pain from the damp rag, drenched in antiseptic or something pressing to the back of my head.

"Yup. Reminders so that you won't be so stupid again and get possessed." I mumbled into the sofa.

"Whoa whoa whoa, so, you're saying that this is my fault?" Sam asked teasingly. I had to make sure he wasn't serious, so I looked up at him over my shoulder before I spoke.

"Damn right it's your fault!" I said, letting my eyes close. I yawned, resting my head on my folded arms.

"Your head's fine, by the way." Sam said, smoothing my hair back over the scratches. "I mean, you're probably gonna have the mother of all headaches tomorrow…"

I'm sure Sam said something after that, but I didn't hear it. I passed out.

The sheer amount of dreams I was having lately was excoriatingly long.

Not dreams where I get to pig out on ice cream while I watch vampires and werewolves battle it out in a cage (a perfectly normal dream in my life now), dreams that weren't…normal. That weren't dips into my subconscious about what I truly wanted. They…mattered.

So, when I found myself walking around my house in Janesville (in what I assume was the early 1870s), I knew I wasn't going to be seeing dragons playing harps out the windows.

"Hello?" I called through the house. "Anybody home?" Nothing.

I groaned and started to wander around the empty house.

"You shouldn't be here."

I gasped and spun around, throwing one of my hands forward in the process and letting my abilities put a hole in a wall.

Panting from the sudden magic use, I put my hand down and raked a hand through my hair, tucking a few strands that fell out of my braid behind my ears.

"Oh…That-That was…unexpected." The same voice said, still a few feet away. I looked over and saw a young man, in his late teens, brushing plaster out of his hair.

I took a few steps back, feeling for my knife and swearing in my head when I didn't feel it.

"Who are you?" I asked cautiously. I may be in my own head, but that didn't really mean I was alone.

"Uh…I-I'm Jacob." He stammered out, fixing his jacket. "You shouldn't be here." He said again.

"It's my own head! How can you say I shouldn't be here?" I said, taking a step towards him.

"In your own head?" Jacob repeated me, his blonde eyebrows furrowing as he tilted his head to one side.

"Yeah." I said slowly. "I'm drained from dealing with a demon and passed out. I'm asleep right now."

"Asleep?" Jacob repeated me, yet again.

"Hey! I have an idea! How about instead of just repeating everything I'm saying, you actually tell me something!" I said, walking closer to him. Jacob leaned back a little, almost like he was shrinking back. I stopped.

"This isn't right." I said suddenly, backing up. It seemed like Jacob was more comfortable when I wasn't so close. "In my dreams like this, I never meet anyone who isn't…isn't all in my face, telling me what to do. So what's different about you?"

Jacob swallowed and shook his head. "N-Nothing. Nothing's different about me. I'm just like all the others." He said honestly.

I stared at him, cocking a hip and putting a hand on it. "All the other whats?" I asked simply.

Jacob's eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted again. "I don't understand."

"You said 'I'm just like all the others.' Not, 'I'm just like everyone else.'" I told him. "Now, in my mind, that means that you aren't normal."

Jacob straightened out and looked at me. "Normal, means that something is average, typical, and usual in a state and condition. By those standards, I am perfectly normal in comparison to my peers." He said, holding his head higher.

I just raised my eyebrows at him. "Wow. Thanks for the English lesson, professor." I said sarcastically, turning to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Jacob asked. I heard him jog to keep up with me.

"It's obvious that you're just one of Jane's memories, nothing I can't read about." I said dismissively, heading towards the basement.

"You never answered my question!" Jacob said, running faster to catch up with me, and eventually get in front of me.

"Yeah, I don't have to." I told him, giving him a mildly sympathetic smile and a shrug.

"Can't you answer my question just for my own amusement?" Jacob asked, standing still as I walked past him.

I stopped and turned around. "Are you asking me to humor you?" I asked slowly.

Jacob looked at me, clearly confused. "Yes, that's what I just asked." I snorted at him, rolling my eyes as I started towards the basement again.

I pushed open the door to the kitchen, and sighed in relief when I saw a familier face. "Jane, thank God, I swear if I have to be around this one—" I gestured towards Jacob. "For one more second, I'm gonna hit something!"

Jane, who was standing behind the counter, apron on and up to her elbows in flour. She looked up at me, her green eyes wide in surprise. "Ni-Nicolette." She finally got out. "What-What are you—"

"—Doing here?" I finished for her. "Why is everyone so confused about me being here?" I asked, throwing my hands up in the air. "It's my head!"

Jane looked at Jacob with a questioning expression. "Y-Yes…" she trailed off awkwardly.

I huffed and fell to lean against the wall. I looked around the kitchen, where Jacob was standing stiffly across the room from me, and Jane continued making what appeared to be a pie with shaking hands.

"Man…My head is messed up." I finally said, chuckling a little. "I mean, I'm dreaming, I could be eating steak while sitting on a throne of hundred dollar bills, instead, I'm in my house, in the 1860s—The most boring thing I can think of!...No offence." I said, looking at Jane. She just nodded.

"You have anything to drink?" I asked, starting to go through the cupboards. "Like…Beer, or something? Wine?" Still nothing. "I know you guys didn't exactly have clean water, so you drank various fermented beverages."

After about 10 minutes of my unreciprocated babbling, I stood across from Jane, putting my hands on the island. I stayed there until Jane looked up at me. "Why aren't you talking to me? Asking me about Sam and how my magic is going?" I asked slowly. Jane's gaze dropped back to the pie.

I chuckled cynically, shaking my head a little. "Look, everyone here is a guest in my head, and I don't like keeping secrets from myself. So, tell me what's going on." I said forcefully.

Jane turned quickly, putting the pie through the oven door in the large stove behind her.

"Ok, I'm done." I said, pushing away from the table. "I'm gonna go down to the basement, down some Datura and wake up from this insanity."

Ignoring Jacob and Jane's yelling, I went to the basement, shutting the door behind me. This was my house, and I knew if that door was shut tight from inside the basement it was very hard to open. I pushed the rug off the trap door and hopped down the ladder into the brightly lit room. I could hear Jacob trying to open the door as I pulled out the jar of dried Datura blossoms and pulled out a bloom. I grabbed a jug from under the desk, wine apparently, and took a swig before swallowing the blossom.

I heard the basement door open, and loud voices yelling as they tried to open up the trap door, but that wasn't what I was focused on.

The edges of my vison were getting blurry, and I stumbled until I was on the sofa, the same sofa in my basement now. Just as the trap door opened, my body went slack against the sofa and I passed out again.

My head was pounding. I sat up slowly and held it.

"Oh my God…" I groaned, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

I blinked a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness around me. I pushed myself into a sitting position, and looked around.

My eyebrows furrowed. I was looking at the same basement room I'd just left back in La-La Land; the basement room. But the one I'd just left was neatly put together and clean. It looked like a bomb went off in this one, with me being at the epicenter.

The sofa I had been passed out on was cracked and broken, smashed down into a foot deep creator in the middle of the room. Everything else was blown back, like the force that created the creator had blown everything.

I stood up on unsteady legs, leaning on the broken sofa to stay upright. I made it to the desk, and started looking for the ingredients to make a pain-releiving potion.

"Sorry for just dropping in on you like this. But how could I pass up an opportunity to speak to one of my favorite children?"

I spun around, grabbing a silver paring knife used to cut the stems off flowers.

I knew it. I knew this seemed too easy. After an insane, lifelike dream like the one I'd just had, just waking up and being a little disoriented was just too easy.

"Look," I started, glaring at Yellow-Eyes. "I've had a very difficult couple of weeks. I appreciate that you take time out of your schedule filled with torture and bad choices, but I so do not have time for this. Please show yourself out."

He just chuckled. "Cool your heels there cowgirl. I'm just here to check up on you."

"Well as you can see, I'm fine. I've been better, sure, but I am fine. Now get out." I growled at him.

Yellow-Eyes put his hands up in mock surrender as he chuckled. "Just checkin' up on you…And…Offer you a little side job."

I let out a snorting laugh. "Yeah, and I'd just love to work for the thing that killed my best friends' parents and my own foster parents."

"Aw, you can't hold that against a guy forever." He chuckled. "Don't worry, no killing, torturing or burning. Just research."

Still skeptical, but at the same time curious, I lowered the knife a fraction of an inch. "Research?" I repeated dumbly.

"Research." Yellow-Eyes assured me. "Now, Sam was my first choice, but the information I need isn't something easily found on the internet. I need someone do this the old fashioned way; archives and grunt work. I need you to find something for me, a town. I want to know everything about it; who lived there, what stores were there, who the mayor's daughter was fooling around with when her father wasn't looking."

"Why would I go through all that work?" I chuckled humorlessly. "You're talking about hours—days—of research."

"Believe me, Nikki, I'll make it worth your time." Yellow-Eyes said, smirking.

"What could you possibly have that I would want?" I asked flatly.

Yellow-Eyes, still with his hands up in the air, walked a little closer to me; he was about three feet from me instead of 10.

"I can tell you why you're at the top of my list."