An update! Yay!

I posted some pics on the site I have for this story, the link is on my profile/page/whatever you what to call it. Nikki's dress is on there, and the inspiration for some parts 'n stuff...Yeah...

~Christianne

Nikki POV

"Well, I look like a prostitute." I announced, looking in the dusty, cracked mirror.

"Right?" I asked, looking away from my reflection to the reflected Dean; who was playing with his bow tie. He looked me up and down, and shrugged a little, but didn't say anything.

"'Not at all, Nikki.'" I said, mimicking Dean's deep voice in a mocking tone, trying to give him a hint. "'You look great, not hooker-ish at all.'" Dean snorted, pursing his lips together as he tried not to laugh.

"Yeah, 'cause that's true." I heard him mumbled.

I spun around and gave him an incredulous look. "So I do look like a prostitute!" I accused him, I must look more threatening than I thought, because Dean's eyes widened a little and he swallowed before speaking.

"Well, uh, a little y-yeah." He admitted slowly. "But-But the really expensive, classy kind. For-For presidents 'n CEOs 'n rich guys 'n…'n stuff…" He trailed off, realizing he wasn't going to recover.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the silver purse that 'went with my dress,' and walked down the stairs. I saw Bela looking at me appraisingly, before she gave me a smile and sighed. "Slouchy tomboy, to feminine goddess…I am good."

I made a face at her as I passed her. After explaining her plan, she'd forced me to sit still while she yanked and burned my hair and slathered my face with makeup. "I don't like you." I commented casually, then took in her own dress.

"Why do you get to wear that and I have to look like a street walker?" I asked her, gesturing to the tight red dress with a scooping neckline and a slit up my thigh. One breeze just the right way and my not-so-public parts would be on display.

She shrugged. "I played your strengths." I made another face at her, and leaned on the wall. Bela cleared her throat lowly. I rolled my eyes again and got off the wall.

"Look, I know I'm a pretty good looking girl, but did you have to make m such a…a…" I trailed off.

"Woman? Socialite?" Bela offered, checking her makeup in a compact mirror.

"I was gonna say hoe-bag," I said with a shrug. "But whatever makes you feel better than yourself." I finished with a sarcastic smile. Bela rolled her eyes and we lapsed into silence.

"What is taking so long?" Bela called up stairs, where Dean was still getting ready. "Sam is already halfway there—with his date." I laughed a little at that. Bela had roped Sam into going with Gert; the old lady that had talked to and had a thing for the younger Winchester. I could see why; I wasn't blind. Sam was an incredibly good looking man, and had an indescribable personality that almost outmatched it.

"I'm so not ok with this!" Dean yelled down.

"Well your parts aren't in danger of being shown, so suck it up." I yelled up at him, crossing my arms, tugging the neckline of my dress up and pressing the slit up my leg closed.

"Put your heels on." Bela told me. I looked apprehensively at the six-inch heels on the floor next to me. Then, she turned her attention to Dean again. "What are you?—A woman? Come down already."

I was playing with my shoes as Dean walked down the steps. My eyebrows rose as I took in my, usually flannel wearing, friend; who was currently in a tux.

He stopped at the bottom of the steps and glanced between Bela and me. "Alright, get it out of your system." He snapped. "I look ridiculous."

"Not exactly the words I'd use." Bela said. I cocked a hip and couldn't stop myself from looking him up and down a few times. He looked very 007.

Dean looked at Bela in combustion. "What?"

Bela put a hand on her hip and sighed. A moment or two later, she spoke. "You know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex."

I snapped my head to look at her in shock, and dropped my shoes on the table.

Dean crossed his arms tightly over his chest and stood awkwardly for a few seconds. "Don't objectify me." He snapped.

"Let's go." Dean said, clearly frustrated.

"Nikki. Heels. Now." Bela snapped at me. I rolled my eyes and caught Dean as he passed me and used his shoulder to balance.

"You know why women wear high heels? It makes the ass mimic the asses of apes in heat." I muttered. "I'm gonna be walking around in a hooker dress with a horny-ape butt."

"You…You look…good." Dean said, trying to give me a confidence boost, I guess.

I snorted, and let go of his shoulder to test my balance. "Why thank you, 007." I teased, tweaking his bowtie before following Bela out the door.

Per the plan, I went in ahead of Dean and Bela.

Every time a waiter with glasses of champagne passed me, I grabbed one, downed it in one go, and put it back on the tray.

"Hard night?" One waiter asked me. I think I drank all five flutes from his tray.

I laughed once, using one delicate finger to wipe under my red painted bottom lip, and set the empty glass on his tray. "Well, that's an understatement." I sighed. "I…" I trailed off. "I don't want to be here."

He smiled a little. "Yeah, I feel the same way." He said, gesturing to the white shirt and black tie he was wearing. He looked over his shoulder briefly. "Uh, I'm Jackson." He said, holding his hand out.

I hesitated, then shook his hand. "Nikki." I said simply.

Jackson was a pretty good looking guy; strawberry blond, about three inches taller than me, blue eyes and a shy, cute smile. "Well, Nikki, you want something a little stronger than champagne?"

"Yes, please." I said with another soft laugh.

Jackson smiled, and nodded once. "Be right back." I waited where I was, leaning on a wall towards the back of the main room. Not three minutes later, Jackson was back with a single martini on his tray. I smiled and took it.

"Might not want to down that one." He said with a small grin. I rolled my eyes and took a sip.

"Why are you here if you don't really want to? I mean," He stopped to chuckle. "This thing costs at least $500 a plate."

I shrugged and bit the olive off the little plastic sword. "It's my job."

"It's your job to go to fancy events in small museums wearing a dress that's giving every man over 38 a heart attack?" Jackson asked, looking over his shoulder once more before tucking the silver tray under his arm and leaning on the wall next to me.

"No, my job is actually to make sure all the wait staff is doing their job." I teased him, taking another sip of my martini.

"Well I snuck in the back and stole the tie and tray, so you can tell your boss that the real wait staff is doing their job just fine." Jackson chuckled at me and I rolled my eyes.

I looked over my shoulder when I heard a familiar voice. "You know, uh, could you excuse me for a moment?"

I grinned as I saw Sam, in the same 007 suit as Dean and with his usually lengthy hair combed back, walk towards me. The older woman was staring with an almost predatory look in her eyes at Sam's butt as he walked away.

"Hey, think you can make sure I always have a drink in my hand?" I asked Jackson, tipping my martini glass back and handing it back to him empty.

He laughed once. "Yeah, definitely." He took my glass and headed away.

"Hey," Sam said, stopping a few feet from me. "Oh, uh, w-wow, you look, uh-"

"Like an escort, I know." I sighed, carefully tucking a curl behind my ear. I'd done that before in a not-so-careful way and Bela, while she's as threatening as a canary, can be very irritating.

"No," Sam said quickly. "No, you-you don't look like an escort. You look…You look…great." Sam said, his eyes trailing slowly from my toes peeping out the toes of the red pumps, up the slit of my dress that stopped mere inches from my hip, to the tight, formfitting bodice, the scooping neckline and the red halter straps that were giving me a neck ache.

I smiled at Sam, and smiled a little bigger when Jackson held a drink out to me. I mouthed 'Thank you!' to him and took a drink; he got me a Long Island Iced Tea, thank God he got me something with a lot alcohol.

"Dean and Bela are over by the bar." I said, nodding towards them. Sam followed my gaze and started to walk over. "Hey!" I hissed at him under my breath. "Give me your arm."

"What?"

I rolled my eyes, grabbed his hand and bent his arm, then rested my hand in the crook of it. "Now we walk."

Sam led me through the people, and released my hand quickly. "Ok, exactly how long do you expect me to entertain my 'date'?" He asked them, namely Bela.

"As long as it takes." Bela sighed, taking a sip of champagne. "What are you drinking?" She asked, eyeing my tall, dark glass.

"Long Island Iced Tea." I said, taking a sip. "I moved on to this after two martinis and six glasses of champagne didn't help."

She reached for my glass. "I don't need you drunk."

I rolled my eyes and held my drink out of her reach. "Please—it'll take a lot more than that to get me hammered. You dressed me up like a Barbie with daddy issues, the least I can do is run your tab up sky high on alcohol." I said casually, finishing my drink and putting it on the bar, and gesturing to Jackson, who was a few yards away. He nodded and went behind the bar.

"Look, there's pretty high security all over this place, alright? This is an uncrashable party without Gert's invitation, so…"

"We can crash anything, Dean." Sam said confidently.

"Yeah, I know." Dean said with a smirk. "But this is easier, and a lot more interesting."

"You know there's limits to what I'll do, right?" Sam asked, clearly not amused by his brother.

"Aww." I said, smiling and taking the bourbon Jackson handed to me on a tray. "He's playing hard to get."

"That's cute." Dean tacked on. He leaned forward a little. "I want all the details in the morning."

"Excuse me miss." I turned around and saw an older man, 55 at the youngest, smiling from under his bad toupee. "Could I trouble you for a dance?"

I was about to say no when Bela cleared her throat and gave me a look. I sighed, downed my glass in one gulp and thrust the glass at Sam. "Let's go." I said with a fake smile.

I kept sending glares to the three as the older man (his name was Archie) guided me through the steps. Every now and then, his hand would slip down from the middle of my back to grab my butt. Every time it did, I fought my instinct to knee him in the gut. The only think I liked about this whorish dress Bela put me in, was that the slit gave me more range of motion. If I really wanted to knee him in the gut, I could.

"Excuse me ma'am?" I heard Jackson say over my shoulder. Archie stopped spinning me around. "You wouldn't happen to be the owner of a red SUV, would you? It's parked in a loading zone."

I played along. "Oh thank you for telling me!" I said gratefully, then looked back at Archie. "I'm so sorry." He smiled sadly and nodded.

I followed Jackson out of Archie's sight, then started laughing. "Oh my God—thank you!" I told him.

He smiled. "Yeah, you know that's a little more my speed. Saving damsels in distress."

I rolled my eyes. "I, am hardly a damsel. And if there was any distress in a situation I was in, I'd be the source of it."

Jackson smiled, and shook his head. "I feel like I should tell you, I'm actually fairly smart. I don't think I've really…displayed that."

"You're fine." I told him.

"I work here, actually. At the museum. Got a degree in maritime history." He said.

That perked my interest. "Really?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah…A masters, actually." Jackson said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

A plan formed in my head. "You know, I was at Yale for American history." I told him, changing my posture just a little.

"Really?" Jackson said, a grin breaking out on his face. We spent the next 15 or so minutes talking about various historic events that happened in the area.

"You know, when I found out I was coming here, I really wanted to see this place." I told him in a lower voice. "But, you know, it was closed for this event."

Jackson smiled a little, and tossed the tray to a side table. "How sneaky are you?" he asked me.

"In this footwear? Do you even have to ask?" I said, showing him the bright red pumps.

"Of course I'm sneaky."

"Shh!" Jackson said, trying not to laugh. "We're not supposed to be up here!"

"I know! I'm just excited!" I said, putting on a giddy little smile. Jackson just rolled his eyes and unlocked door 235. I swore it was an act of God that the room Jackson let me in was the one with the hand in it. I thought I was going to have to knock him out and steal his keys.

The second the door shut behind us, Jackson was talking about different artifacts and events. Normally, I would have been enthralled and having a little fantasy about how adorable our strawberry blond kids would look when they graduated high school at 13 years old. But not now; now, I had to get a dead, shriveled hand out of an alarmed case.

I uh-huh-ed at the right times and Jackson didn't even turn around. I knelt down carefully, not wanting to rip the ass of this dress, and flipped out my pocket knife to strip wires and disable the alarm, like Sam taught me a few hours before the party.

It only took me two minutes to get the hand out of the case and into my purse.

After that, I really was listening to Jackson. Until I heard someone outside the door.

"Shit!" Jackson said, his eyes wide, running a hand through his hair. "Oh I am so fired!"

"Shut up," I told him calmly, dropping my purse on the table behind me, next to the door. "And just follow my lead."

"What l-"

Jackson was cut off when I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him towards me. I didn't stop pulling until he was flush against me, his hands braced on either side of me on the wall, and his lips were smashed to mine. He let out a sound of surprise, but after a second or two, he just went with it.

And when I say 'went with it', I mean went with it.

His hand slithered down my side, resting on my thigh, only inches from that high slit, and his other hand wound in my hair. I kept a tight grip on his shirt, and anchored my other hand in his hair. After a light nip at my bottom lip, I wrapped my arms around his lean shoulders, trying to encourage him to do that again.

I heard the door open, and at the precise moment the door opened, I meshed my tongue against his mouth. I cracked one eye open the slightest as Jackson let out a surprised, dazed groan and his hand slowly slid down my thigh, grazing the exposed skin of my thigh.

There was a quiet, surprised sound from the security guardat the same time Jackson vocalized his appreciation for my actions. I myself let out a breathy, dramatic moan that was so out of character I had to fight a laugh.

The door shut quickly and I shoved Jackson a few feet back.

I hopped off the table and smoothed out my dress and tried to fix my hair. I looked at Jackson, who was looking at me with a rumpled shirt and hair, and a smear of red lipstick on his mouth. I chuckled a little. "You might wanna get cleaned up." I told him, taking my purse again. Jackson quickly started to smooth his shirt and fix his hair.

I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and a smile. "Thanks. You seriously don't any idea how much you've helped me." I used my thumb to try and get some of the bright red lipstick off his skin.

Jackson looked at me with wide eyes and nodded. "Ye-Y-Yeah…Could-Could I get your—Can I call you sometime?"

I looked over my shoulder and sent him a real smile. "You're literally a lifesaver." I told him before rushing downstairs.

I felt a little bad; if I'd met Jackson three years ago, before I met Sam and Dean, I would have stuck around for him. But it wasn't three years ago, and I'd already met Sam and Dean. Jackson should hold out for a decent, normal girl.

"Ok, let's get out of here!" I hissed at Dean, grabbing his arm. "Now!"

"What? Why?" Bela asked. I rolled my eye and put my purse on the table the two were standing at with slow and deliberate movements. Bela's eyes widened, and she put down her own shimmery bag to look in mine. "How'd you get it?" She asked me.

I waved her off. "Not important," I said dismissively. "Keys?" I asked, holding my hand out to Dean. He dug them out of his jacket and handed them to me. "Get Sam." I said before rushing out to the parking lot.

A few minutes later, Sam and Dean came out.

"You got it, right?" Sam asked as he yanked off his bowtie. "Tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs. Havisham for nothing."

"Yeah, I got it." I said, using a hair tie I found on the floor of the back seat to throw my glossy, sprayed curls into a ponytail. "Mrs. Who?" I asked.

"Never mind." Sam said, shaking his head. "Let me see it."

I smiled and opened up the shimmery clutch bag in my lap. My grin fell, and I whispered some swear words.

"What? What is it?" Sam asked me, turning around in his seat.

"That bitch!" I hissed, showing him the inside of my clutch bag; a makeup compact, some eyeliner, pepper spray and hairpins. No hand.

"Where's the hand?" Dean asked slowly.

"That bitch," I said again. "She must have switched our purses!" I threw the clutch at the ground, and moved to scrub my hands down my face. I stopped at the last minute when I remembered the makeup caked on my face; no matter how mad I was, I didn't want to look like a raccoon-zombie hybrid.

"I'm gonna kill her." Dean said slowly, calmly. I think it made it more menacing.

When we got to the house we were 'borrowing,' Dean was running for a phone Bela didn't have the number for. Sam and I went upstairs to change.

"I just don't get it!" I told Sam.

"Get what?" He asked, shrugging out of his jacket.

"Bela knows all about the supernatural world," I started, grabbing the jeans and tank top I'd left up here when Bela forced me into this dress in the first place. "And she chooses to do-do…do her stupid shit with it?" I asked incredulously.

"I don't know," Sam said, sounding distracted. "Everyone gets into this life in different ways."

I nodded a little, standing in front of the dusty mirror and reached behind me to undo the halter top of my dress.

I heard a quiet, surprised and slightly strangled sound behind me. "Uh…I-I can change somewhere else-"

"Please, you've seen me in less Sam." I sighed. "I just can't see a world where I know what I know and I don't help people." I told him. "It's-It's like I'm made for this…"

"Y-Yeah…well…" I saw Sam's reflection in the mirror. He was focusing very hard on the buttons of his shirt, pushing each one through the little hole slowly. "I-I mean it kind of is-" he cut himself off as he looked up at me. I was pushing my dress down to my hips, standing in the black strapless bra I'd insisted on wearing. I looked at his reflection, and waited patiently for him to finish his thought.

"Uh…Jane-Jane's father was a hunter, right?" Sam asked. I nodded, jumping into my jeans. "And, since her soul is…in you, it's almost like your father is a hunter."

"Makes sense…" I trailed off.

"I…I sort of know who my father is." I told Sam a minute later, my face expressionless as I pulled my tank top on.

"Really?" Sam asked, looking at me as he pulled his own jeans on.

"Yeah…There's…There's this guy that I see in my dreams. And, sometimes not in my dreams." I said, slowly turning around to face Sam as he pulled a flannel on over his white t-shirt.

"Who is he?" Sam asked right away. After Yellow-Eyes became a frequent visitor in my head, my dreams were under a microscope.

"He's alright," I assured him. "Annoying as hell, but alright." I sighed, crossing my arms. "He told me…stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" Sam asked.

I shrugged and ran a hand through my hair, and pulled the ends around to look at. "I have my mom's hair." I said offhandedly. Sam didn't respond, so I looked at him. He was looking at me with slightly furrowed brows.

"I-I always imagined that my hair was something I got from my father…" I trailed off, running my fingers through the strands as I started to braid it. "I dunno why…always did though."

"Did-Did he say anything else?" Sam asked, clearly trying to sound less curious than he was.

I shrugged, circling the end of my braid with a hair tie. "You know, I really didn't pay a whole lot of attention in the beginning."

"A guy comes to you in your head, tells you 'stuff'—some of its about your mom, and you don't commit it all to memory?" Sam asked me.

I shrugged, and leaned on the table. "You know, what I was eight, my foster mom told me to bring this plastic tub upstairs, it had Christmas decorations in it or something, and it was way too heavy for me to carry on my own. Halfway up the steps, I lost my grip and the thing went flying."

Sam clearly didn't like this; his eyes were furious, his brows were pulled together in sympathy and the rest of his face was neutral.

"If this guy, my 'uncle'-" I put air quotes around the word. "-wasn't there to help me when I got backhanded so hard I had a fractured cheekbone, why should I even talk him now?...Then again, he's the same thing I am, or, close enough at least, only stronger. He can make me listen if he wants." I shrugged, shaking my head.

"You know, people aren't always there when you need them," Sam said, tugging on his shoes. "But he's family and he's…here now."

I just shrugged again. Sam was probably the best person to talk to about this, and he couldn't even begin to fathom what I was dealing with.

"Why can't we just let the guy kill her?" I asked Sam as I painted a symbol from my grimoire on top of the stone coffin. I was well aware that Bela was right behind me; I didn't really care.

"You've asked that four times." Sam told me, dropping the candles next to the painted symbol, waiting for it to dry.

"Remind me again." I muttered, throwing the small tube of acrylic paint into the duffle bag behind me.

"Because we save people." Sam said flatly. I rolled my eyes at the answer; of all the people I could be saving, Bela wasn't high on my list.

I put the candles at the points of the pentagram, and sighed. "I'll get started, I guess."

It was better I do things like this; I had more spiritual power than Sam or Dean did.

I ticked off the steps in my head; lambs blood in the bowl, a good sized chunk of Bela's hair in the middle, and had sprinkled a few things into the lamb's blood. Bela had wanted to know which herbs I was using. I told her she should shut her mouth before I stuffed a handful of something not so nice into her mouth.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Bela asked doubtfully. She had her arms crossed tight over her chest; probably because Dean was sitting next to her with a loaded gun in his hand.

"Almost definitely not." Dean said.

"Odds are better with Nikki doing it," Sam offered. Bela and I caught each other's eye, glared at each other, and looked away abruptly. Neither of us were happy about this.

I lit the candles, and the moment the fifth was lit, thunder clapped loudly overhead, and the breeze picked up. After another thunder clap, the sky opened up and it started raining.

I thought about trying to cover my head like the other were, but I instead pulled my hair out of the ponytail and let the rain soak it. I didn't bother zipping my leather jacket (bought the day before with Bela's money, just to piss her off), or even cross my arms to try and keep my t-shirt dry.

This wasn't just any rain; it was special.

"Nikki, might want to start reading," Dean said, getting off the headstone he was leaning on.

Sam stood closed behind me, ready to yank me back and force feed me a handful of castor in case I started convulsing or bleeding from my nose. I had more spiritual energy than Sam or Dean, so I was better to do something like this. But since I have more spiritual energy, it's easier to get sucked into it, like when I tried to heal Meg's vessel.

I opened up my spell book, holding the small book up. I didn't try to keep it dry; it was charmed. You could drop an A-bomb on it, and it'd be just fine. "Aziel, Castiel, Lamisniel, Rabam.

Ehrley, et balam, ego vos conuro, per deum verum, per deum vivum." The candles blew out with a particularly strong wing. "Cuivos cuiaves eos supermontes et per eum, qui adam, et avum formovit. Et per eum." My voice was drowned out by thunder and heavy rain, but I kept reading.

I didn't look away from the pages, even though I heard Dean screaming at Bela, and Sam demanding to know if this was normal. I shouted the Latin words over the rain, focusing on each word before I said it; one wrong pronunciation and I'd have to start over.

Bela yelled 'Behind you!' I didn't need to look up to know that the ghost was here; I could feel him. A shiver shot up my spine as I instantly felt cold and hollow, but most of all, angry.

"Atque ego praecipio vobis damnati esse fugiendum locum, ne praesidiarios caelo descendit populus sanctus entier Comits te perpetua et inferni." I said clearly; I was stronger than the ghost.

I heard Dean scream, and a shot went off. I fought every fiber in my being not to look away from the spell; to see if Dean was alright.

"Quod blasphemia in inferno meremur vixeris. Non magis a vobis vitam finire manu, si nimirum Spiritus Sanctus." I kept saying.

This wasn't going to work; I needed a new plan.

I stopped the spell, and began frantically looking through the pages for another one; it was a longshot, but it was the best option.

"Fanahin'ny rahalahy, mandrakizay voafehy, tapaka ny barriar ny fahafatesana. Namadika sy torotoro, very sy mivezivezy sy mitondra ny fanahin 'ny mandrakizay voafatotry ny mihoatra noho ny ra nivoaka ho ahy." I could hear Bela coughing up water.

"Ray masina ô, ny fiainan'ny maro miankina vitsivitsy ireo. Misaora izany tsipelina ary omeo ahy ny hery mba hitondra ny mandrakizay mifatotra nivoaka mba hamatotra azy ireo ny barriar ny fahafatesana!" I was screaming by the end of it.

The sky quickly cleared, and the full moon lit the graveyard in a grayish light.

I was panting as I stood in the silence, looking away from my grimoire for the first time since I started reading. I licked the rain off my lips, and stared into the dark eyes of the death sailor. He snarled at me, but I didn't bat an eye. The rain lightened slowly until it stopped completely.

The sailor turned around slowly, facing his brother.

As he turned, I felt a strong pang in my chest. I winced and closed my eyes. I inhaled shakily, and dropped my grimoire on the stone coffin. I hand my hands on the edge, leaning over it.

"Nikki-"

"I'm fine." I ground out at Sam. "Used a different spell. The-The castor would make me pass out." I snapped, trying to block out the bright force I felt worming into my mind.

Et vocabit nomen meum, quotiens subveniret.

"No," I ground out; if I couldn't stop it, it'd consume me.

Magis iuuerit, quo propius ad nos iterum conjungere.

"No."

Id quod est, filia benedicta, sed admonendi estis nondum idoneis ad sanctissimum praesidio nunc.

"No!" I yelled, felling myself slip completely from consciousness, and fall onto the wet ground.

Vos autem sedete.

I understood none of it. Absolutely nothing. Accept the last part. It was clear as a bell.

Vos autem sedete.

You must wait.