As promised, second chapter of the evening!
Leave a review if you feel so inclined ;)
~Christianne
Nikki POV
"Not a word of this to Dean!" I snapped at him, he let out a laugh as I passed him on my way to where Dean had parked the Impala, and I had parked my Mustang.
Dean was playing with a shiny red apple when we walked up.
"Little girl, shiny red apple," Dean tossed the apple to Sam. "That mean something to you, fairy tale twins?"
I rolled my eyes at Dean as Sam answered (glaring slightly at his brother). "I think it's Snow White."
"Snow White?" Dean repeated, then chuckled. "Oh, I saw that movie. Well, the porn version, anyways. There was this wicked stepmother—and she was wicked."
"Do you remember that conversation we had about things you are and are not allowed to talk about around me?" I asked Dean, leaning on the trunk of my car. Sam chuckled once, and Dean rolled his eyes.
"There is a wicked stepmother," Sam said, ignoring what Dean said, and what I said. "And she tries to kill Snow White with a poison apple."
"But the apple doesn't actually kill the girl, right?" Dean asked.
"No, puts her in a deep sleep—so deep, she may as well have been dead." I said, distracted as I watched Sam turn the apple over in his hands.
We all looked at each other, and were about to get in our cars when the police scanner in the Impala buzzed to life. Through the crackle, it was reporting that a man named Mathew (age 27) had gone missing on his way to deliver food to an elderly woman who lived just outside town. Officers had found blood at the scene, but hadn't reported back.
"You guys go to the hospital, I'll head over there." I said, getting in my own car.
After a 20 minute drive, I got out of my car and leaned on the open door. "I should have gone to the hospital." I sighed, looking at the large run down Tudor house.
I checked the clip in my gun, and walked towards it. I'd passed a police car and an abandoned pick-up truck on the long drive. I saw a large metal fence off to one side. I walked a little closer and whistled, seeing if there were any dogs in it. Nothing came, so I moved on.
I turned the corner, making my way to the porch and gasped.
There were two dead police men on the porch, absolutely ripped to shreds and bloody. I stepped over them, and found, what I assume was once Mathew.
I heard a steady creaking upstairs, and quickly went to the stairs.
On the third floor, I found the source of the creaking; an old woman was using one of those old spindles, the kind used to turn cotton or wool into thread.
"Uh, excuse me ma'am." I called, getting her attention. "Are you alright?"
She looked over at me with a sweet smile. "Well, there was a bit of commotion down stairs not awful long ago. I suspect my nephew and Matty were roughhousing again. You know how boys can be." She said with a grandmotherly giggle.
I nodded slowly. "Right…" I didn't feel anything off in the room, so I put my gun back in my waistband, pulling my jacket over it. "Uh, ma'am, you might want to-"
"Would you be a lamb and help with the knots? This batch isn't as smooth as it usually is." She asked, gesturing to the fine strings of fibers over the spiraled, pointed part of the spindle.
"We-We really should-Damnit!" I swore, lifting my bleeding finger to my mouth. "Damnit—that hurt!" I said under my breath.
I looked towards the old woman again, about to insist we leave, but she was slack in her chair, arms off the sides and mouth slack. I reached forward to take her pulse, and felt nothing.
That's when I felt it.
I spun around and looked at the little dark haired girl with the red ribbon in her hair.
I drowsily blinked, and took a stumbling step forward, trying to reach for my gun.
She flickered away.
I let out a groan, swaying to one side. Determined, I forced myself to walk out of the room.
Everything was spinning, I picked a direction and walked until I couldn't anymore. Everything was hazy, blurry, and I was relieved when I felt something soft under me, and that was it. All I saw was black.
Omniscient POV
Sam and Dean were in the lobby of the hospital; Callie, Dr. Garrison's daughter, was the spirit. Well, an eight-year-old version was. As they were discussing what to do, a woman with red hair rushed to the desk.
"Have-Have two guys come in? Red hair, green eyes?" She panted.
"Uh…No, sorry." A nurse said after checking the computer.
"Oh…" she said, clearly panicked. "They-They went to try and find their friend Mathew, out-out at Mrs. Gold's house-"
Sam recognized the name; Nikki had gone out to a house on the edge of town, where a guy named Mathew disappeared. While Dean was talking, Sam called Nikki's cell. It rang and rang, then went to voicemail.
"Keys." Sam demanded, holding his hand out. The look Dean gave him was a little startled, and a bit confused. "Dr. Garrison was reading Callie Brier-Rose." Dean gave him a blank look. "Sleeping Beauty!" Sam half-yelled, then threw a look at the red head, who was pacing nervously as the nurse called the police.
"You find a way to stop Callie!" Sam called over his shoulder. He remembered the address from the police scanner, and once he got to the Impala, he pointed it in the direction of the house and floored it.
10 minutes later, Sam screeched to a halt outside the old, dark house.
As he got out of the Impala, he put a bullet in the chamber of his gun—before he even did that, he heard a loud, massive growling sound. He spun around and saw at least nine dogs—big dogs—all foaming at the mouth and snarling, running towards him. Sam ran towards the fence, and slammed it shut, just as the first dog threw itself into it.
The dogs continued to snarl and bark as Sam walked towards the door.
There were at least four bodies—all cops—on the porch. He took his gun out and pushed the door open.
Two more bodies—red heads. All of them, men trying to free the sleeping princess.
Just as he was about to take one step on the stairs, a hand grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him back. The gun fell from his hand, and a punch threw his face to the side. He looked up from the floor, and saw a guy, with black hair and a dragon tattoo curling up his neck glaring down at him.
The dragon guarding the tower.
Sam got up quickly, and waited for dragon-guy to make the first move.
Back across town, Dean was trying to convince Dr. Garrison that his daughter was spirit, taking on the form of her eight-year-old self, and was killing people.
"No. No, I don't believe you." The doctor insisted.
"Look, your kid—she's killing people!" Dean explained slowly. "She's angry and desperate because no one is listening to her. So you have to listen to her."
Dragon-guy let out a roar—yeah, a roar—as he threw Sam into a table. Before he could regain his footing, Sam was pushed against the wall as Dragon-guy repeatedly punched his stomach.
Callie's spirit watched from a few feet away, smiling slightly.
Sam finally got the upper hand, grabbing Dragon-guy's head and slamming it into the china cabinet next to them, then gave him a hard kick in the chest, sending him crashing into the massive, set dining room table.
As Dragon-guy tried to get up, but Sam quickly reached into the broken china cabinet to grab a silver platter. He raised it over his head and threw it down onto Dragon-guy's head, knocking him unconscious before he could grab the steak knife he was reaching for.
Taking a few deep breaths, Sam wiped blood off his lip, looking down at Dragon-guy for a brief moment.
He'd seen a turret-type thing from outside; that's where Nikki would be. Sam grabbed his gun and jogged to the stairs.
"Callie?" Dr. Garrison asked, sitting on the edge of his daughter's bed. "Callie? Callie, its Daddy."
Dean stood by the door, watching as Dr. Garrison tried to coax Callie's spirit into the room.
"Is it true? Did Mommy do this to you?" Garrison asked, tearing up. "I-I know I wasn't listening before, but I'm listening now." He gently took Callie's hand. "Daddy's here…Please, honey, is-is there any way that you can tell me?"
Dean stiffened and cleared his throat. "Doc." He said, getting his attention. He nodded towards the window.
Dr. Garrison looked behind him, and saw his daughter; she looked exactly the same as when she was eight and went into a coma. He reached towards her, but Callie didn't move.
"Is it true?" he asked softly. Callie blinked, and after a moment gave a soft nod.
"Oh...Oh, I'm so sorry, baby." Dr. Garrison said, tearing up again. "But, listen to me. You got to stop what you're doing, ok? You're hurting people…I know everything now, I know the truth."
"It's-It's time for you to let go." Dr. Garrison told to small, spirit daughter. "It's time for me to let you go."
Sam ran up the steps to the third floor, looking in every room; there was a dead woman in one of them, the owner of the house probably.
When he got to the last room, he breathed a sigh of relief; Nikki was laying haphazardly on a moldy sofa, a few rays of sun landing on her face.
"Nikki," Sam said, grabbing her shoulders. "Hey, hey c'mon Nik!" Sam said, getting louder and louder, grabbing her cheek.
He pressed an ear to her chest; her heart beat was slow and breathing shallow.
"C'mon Nikki!" Sam yelled, grabbing both her cheeks. "Wake up!" Both of Nikki's hazel eyes stayed shut, and a dark curl fell limply in her face.
"Wake-Wake up!" He yelled desperately.
Then it hit him.
Only one prince made it past the forest and the dragon and he found Brier-Rose in the tower. She was so beautiful, he just had to kiss her.
The kiss woke Brier-Rose up.
Dr. Garrison shakily stroked the dark hair of his comatose daughter and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
The beeping of the heart monitor sped up, and flat lined. Dean clenched his jaw and looked at the ground.
Sam looked down at Nikki. He was kneeling by the side of the moldy sofa, his hands on Nikki's cheeks. He took a deep, shaky breath and ran one hand through her soft, curly ebony hair before returning it to her cheek.
He tightened his grip slightly, and pulled her up, meeting half way as he kissed Nikki, his best friend, with all he had.
Dr. Garrison was crying as he looked down at his daughter's body. He looked behind him, half-hoping her spirit would still be there, but she was gone.
Nikki wasn't responding.
Sam moved one hand behind her neck, and the other held her back, hand firmly between her shoulder blades. "C'mon." Sam half growled onto her lips. "C'mon Nikki!" He said again, still nothing.
He pulled back, resting his forehead on hers before gently laying her back on the moldy sofa.
Sam was still for a moment, then maneuvered Nikki's body on the sofa so she didn't look so uncomfortable. He pulled her jean-clad legs up onto the sofa, and crossed her arms over chest before he brushed a few curls back.
He stroked her olive toned cheek, and leaned forward to press one more, last ditch attempt of a kiss onto Nikki's lips. "I'm sorry." He whispered before kissing her.
Just as he was pulling back, he heard Nikki inhale sharply. Sam snapped his eyes open, and saw Nikki blinking rapidly, eyes darting around.
"Well…that-that was weird." She said, then was attacked and pulled into a tight hug by Sam. He held her as tightly as he could without hurting her, and after a moment Nikki hugged him back.
Thank God. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God. Sam chanted in his head as he rested his cheek on top of Nikki's head. "You, are never, going off alone, on a hunt, ever again." Sam mumbled.
"Yeah, like that's gonna happen." Nikki giggled, wrapping her arms around Sam's neck.
2:09 am
Nikki jolted awake when Sam closed the door. She gave a quiet, sleepy groan and rubbed on of her eyes. "Sam?" She asked, squinting in the dark.
"Yeah, it's me." Sam mumbled, tossing his bag on the floor and shrugging out of his jacket. "Go back to sleep."
"Where were you?" Nikki asked, propping herself up on her elbows, the covers falling down her chest, showing her collarbones and shoulders clad in a baggy gray tank top.
"…Got hungry." Sam lied, grabbing the spare blanket and a pillow, tossing them on the floor.
Nikki groaned and fell back, flipping one corner of the covers down. "Get in."
Sam's brows furrowed. "What?"
"We're two grown-ups, Sam, it's late and you have that tired-puppy look. Get in." She yawned.
Sam debated the idea for a second; he had to admit, a bed would be nicer than the floor. He stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and got under the covers. He stayed close to one edge, trying not to take up to much of the bed. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Nikki was on her side, arm dangling off the edge.
He fell onto his back with a quiet groan and tried to sleep. But his mind was still spinning with what the crossroad demon told him.
"There's no way out of this one—not this time."
Sam had to admit, it'd…been awhile, for him. So, having a dream like the one he was having didn't surprise him that much.
He was holding a girl tight around the waist, the other was knotted in her hair, angling her head in that perfect way. She was a lot smaller than him, so it was easy to move his hands just a little and feel everything.
Sam easily opened up her lips with his own, and a thrill shot through him when she fought for dominance against him. The thrill turned into action when he felt a sharp nip on his lip. He slowly ran his hands down her slim, tight body until his hands were just under her butt.
She weighed nothing, so it was easy to lift her up and pin her to—well, Sam didn't know what he was pinned her against, but the way she arched and rolled her torso against his made him really not care. One of his hands snaked over the girl's thigh and under her thin t-shirt. His other hand left her thigh and grabbed her face, pressing harder kisses to her lips as her grip on his neck tightened and her slim fingers grabbed at the hair on the back of his head. Every time she pulled just a little to hard, a zing of pain shot up Sam's spine and it just egged him on.
A sound left her throat, and Sam let out a low, rumbling groan in response as he dipped his head down, using his grip on her hair to tip her head back to kiss down the column of her throat. A groan vibrated through her neck and Sam let out a groan of his own, leaning up to lip softly (or, maybe not as soft as he thought from the sound she made) and his forehead rested on hers, panting—he could feel her staggered breaking on his own neck.
"S-Sam," she said in a soft moan when he bumped his nose with his and reached back down her chest, making to rip her t-shirt right in half. His hands froze.
Barely half a second past since this girl moaned his name. She gave his hair a particularly hard yank on his lengthy hair and his eyes snapped open.
This woman, who felt amazing, was one of the best kissers Sam had ever had the pleasure of interacting with and was making noises that just did damn good things to him was the one person he had been convinced was his best friend, family, even;
Nikki.
Sam woke up with a gasp, sweat beading up on his forehead and his chest heaving. He propped himself up on one elbow and ran a hand through his hair. His head was still spinning. He glanced down briefly and his face contorted into one of mild discomfort. He tried to move around a little to fix his little problem, and at the same time not move the bed too much and wake the person he was sharing a bed with.
There was a quiet, sleepy sigh next to him. He looked on right side and almost choked on air; Nikki.
She was still in the louse gray tank top (that had ridden up to bunch up under her breasts and showed her smooth, tan-ish stomach) and the waistband of her blue sleep pants was low on her hips and the small lace trim on her navy panties was showing. It wasn't something he hadn't seen before; she'd woken up wearing less before, but this time…this time Sam noticed it—and he especially noticed that her back was pressed against his side. He could see most of her new anti-possession tattoo; the crisp black lines against her skin, and Sam idly wondered if that's what his looked like to other people. He doubted it.
Slowly and carefully, Sam moved away from Nikki.
When he moved away, Nikki moved with him, tucking herself under his arm.
He moved away again, to the edge of the bed.
Nikki, again, curled into his side. The grip her fingers got on his t-shirt forced him to roll on his back, Nikki sighed and her arm lazily draped over his stomach. Sam groaned and stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open.
This was going to be a long night.