Well, this is a little short. Oops.
Anyway, this is the last chapter I'll be writing from 'Dream a Little Dream of Me.' As intresting as the whole Bela-stealing-the-Colt is, I found it very hard to write. After this, I'll be jumping into another little original hunt I've thought up.
Enjoy the chapter ;)
Nikki POV
"I would have been an awesome bartender," I told Dean as I prepared the dream root cocktail.
"Right," Dean said, rolling his eyes.
"Hey, I would've," I insisted, pointing the wooden spoon I was using to stir the tea at Dean as I spoke.
Dean rolled his eyes again, and gave my shoulder a light smack as he walked back to his bed. I made a face at him as he walked away, and saw Sam staring at me; his face unreadable.
"What?" I asked him. He just shrugged and turned away.
"You're still being weird, Sammy," I said in a sing-song voice. I waited for him to say 'It's Sam,' but it never came. I brushed it off and poured three cups of the tea.
Sam and Dean were sitting next to each other on one bed. I sat opposite them on the other. I handed them their cups.
"Well, shall we dim the lights and sync up 'Wizard of Oz' and 'Dark Side of the Moon'?" Dean asked sarcastically.
"I don't get it." I said, shaking my head. I smiled a little; I could feel the end of my braid in the middle of my back. It was almost grown out where it was before I cut it.
"Me neither." Sam put in, chuckling.
Dean just looked between the two of us. "What did you guys do in college?" He asked us, then raised the cup to his lips to take a drink.
"Ah ah ah!" I said, trying to keep him from drinking. I put my hand over the cup and ended up getting an open mouth kiss from him.
"Not quite was I was going for." I admitted, wiping my hand on my shirt. I saw Sam eyeing me, but I ignored it.
"Can't forget this." I said, pulling the small envelope from my back pocket. "This is the gross part."
"This stuff isn't the gross part?" Dean asked, holding the mug up. He glared at it. "This stuff smells like crap."
I laughed once, and pinched out a few wiry brown hairs. "Bobby's hair." I said, dropping it in Dean's mug. I put some in Sam to, and mine. "It's how we control who's dream we're entering. You have to drink some of there…Uh…Stuff, and hair is better than other stuff."
Dean shrugged a little in agreement, and swirled the tea in his mug around a little.
We all shared a look, and Dean grinned. "Bottoms up."
I rolled my eyes as we clinked glasses. I tipped my head back and emptied my mug down my throat.
I coughed once, and put my empty mug on the bed, and stared at Sam and Dean as they did the same.
"Feel anything?" Dean asked.
"No." Sam admitted.
"Nada." I confirmed. "Do you feel anything?"
"No." Dean said, staring at his glass. "Maybe we got some bad schwag."
"Hey, my schwag is fine," I snapped. Sam became very interested in the ceiling.
Thunder rumbled outside, and I turned to look at it. "When did it start raining?" I asked.
Dean got up and went to the window. "Better question; when did it start raining upside down?"
I got up to look too, and when I turned around, I wasn't in the motel room anymore. "Whoa…Trippy."
"Ok…I don't know what's weirder—the fact that we're in Bobby's head, or that he's dreaming of Better Homes and Gardens?" Dean said, looking around the room.
"Wait…" Sam said, turning in a slow circle. "Imagine the place without a paint job, more cluttered, dusty, books all over the place."
"It's Bobby's house," I realized, looking at a small statue of a gold beaver on the bookshelf I'd noticed before. There wasn't a bullet on its tail like when I first saw it, and it was shiny instead of tarnished.
"Yeah," Sam agreed, laughing a little.
"Bobby?" Dean yelled, getting nothing, aside from the harsh sound of wind howling. As it continued, I realized it wasn't the wind.
"Bobby?" Sam said in a loud whisper by the stairs.
"Hey boys?" I'm goin' outside." I said, walking towards the front door. A draft came from around it, and a curl fluttered over my cheek. I frowned, and ran a hand through my hair.
I braided this, didn't I?
"Nikki no!" I heard Sam yell, but I already had my hand on the door handle and a foot out the door.
"I'll be fine Sam!" I called over my shoulder as I stepped out of the threshold. I turned to see what I was looking at, and froze.
"Sam!" I yelled, and turned to catch the door before it closed. I saw Sam's panicked face just before it shut, and I pressed my hands to the seam of the closed door. "Sam!" I screamed, yanking on the door handle.
A gust of wind howled, and I spun around. When I looked back, the door was gone.
I looked around me and shielded my eyes with my hand. "What the hell?" I breathed.
I was in the middle of a damn desert.
"Mom." I breathed, my eyes wide.
"My little Caelia," the woman said, laughing softly. She wrapped her arms around me, hugging me as she cried. She let go when I didn't hug her back.
She kept calling me that; Cy-lee-a.
"Oh, Caelia," she said, wiping her eyes with her hand. "Oh…Oh my darling little girl." She reached out to grab me in a hug again, but I took a step back.
"No." I said, shaking my head. "No. No, this-this isn't real."
I began pacing in the grass, my hands yanking on my hair. I was mumbling to myself as I tried to figure out what was going on.
"Caelia," the woman, my mother, said, touching my shoulder. I jumped out of her grip, and she approached me with two raised hands. "Caelia-"
"Why are you calling me that?" I half-yelled at her, making her lean back. "My name is Nikki! My-My name is Nicolette Blake!"
"He-He told me you would have a different life; a different name," she said calmly. "But when you were with me, you were Caelia."
I shook my head as I spoke. "No…No, this-this is a dream…You're not real."
My 'mother' sighed, and sat on the bench of a table I hadn't seen before. She gestured to the bench on the other side. "Sit."
I hesitated, but obeyed. She pulled a bunch of grapes from her basket, pulled a wooden bowl from under the table, and put it between us.
"My name is Aelia." She said as she plucked the grapes from the vine, dropping them in the bowl.
I had my hands in my lap, playing with the hair tie on my wrist.
"I met your father when I was young," she said as she plucked grapes.
Before I could stop myself, I asked her a question. "What's his name?"
She smiled softly, and looked at the grape in her hand. "He told me he has many names," Aelia said eventually. "And…And he hasn't told me his true name."
"You shacked up with a guy and you didn't know his name?" I asked, laughing once.
She didn't seem to react, other than pushing the grapes towards me. I paused, and pulled a vine closer. I began plucking grapes off and tossing them in the bowl.
"Your father saved me." She said simply, glancing at me right when I was popping a grape in my mouth. "I was heading down a dangerous path when he found me."
"Hm." I said simply, playing with a grape before tossing it in the bowl.
"You said you are called Nikki?" She asked, getting a nod. "It…It's a very nice name."
"You don't have to pretend to like it." I said a little harsher than I meant to. "Hell, half the time I don't like it."
We lapsed into silence, and I piped up to ask a question a while later. "What happened to me?"
"I don't understand," Aelia told me, frowning slightly.
"I mean, I thought I was born in 1983, but, clearly this isn't the 80s." I said, gesturing around.
My mother continued to pull grapes off the vine as she spoke, not looking at me. "My beloved told me you would not be safe with me." She admitted. "Even here, in my hidden oasis, the beings that would come after you would destroy it to obtain you."
"You sent me away," I realized.
She nodded, sniffling slightly. Aelia wiped a hand under her nose and continued picking grapes. "I-I had two months with you, Caelia—two months—before he came and took you away. He said it was longer than it should have been."
I looked down at my lap, gnawing on my lip. "I still have your rattle," she spoke up. "You're father gave it to you…" Aelia trailed off, smiling a little.
"It is made of gold and silver, with diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires." She continued.
My eyebrows shot up. "Really?" I asked, shocked.
She giggled a little and smiled. "Yes, he said, 'she is the closest thing to a princess a being of my kind can be, she should be treated like one.'"
I smiled a little, eating another grape. "He sounds like a fun guy."
"You were here for two weeks, Caelia, and he just showered you with gifts," she said, a grin on her face. "Toys, blankets, animals—I don't think he quite understood you were only an infant." She admitted. "You were too small to play with a puppy or a kitten."
Her smile faltered slightly. "He called you his little princess."
I smiled, and felt tears well up in my eyes.
"Oh…He loved you so much, Caelia," Aelia said, reaching forward to grasp my hand. "He told me that even though you were far, far away from me he would always be watching you."
I looked down at our hands, and slowly slid my out from under hers.
After we finished the grapes, my mother asked me to come sit on the ground in front of her. I asked her why, and she said she always regretted not being able to braid my hair; as a baby I only had a few curly wisps.
I sat completely still while her hands deftly braided my hair. She picked up the curls and easily manipulated and moved them into a braid. It was tight enough to keep all the strands in place, but not tight enough to hurt and pull at my scalp.
I closed my eyes as she tied the braid off with some random scrap of leather.
When I opened them back up, I wasn't staring at the white tent with gold accents, or the lush green jungle; I was staring at the ceiling of the motel.
I slowly sat up, brushing a hand over my face as I looked around.
Sam and Dean were still passed out on the other bed. Dean was snoring a little.
I leaned back on my arms and sighed.
You're father loved you so much.
He called you his little princess.
What do you say to the person that loved you that much, and abandoned you like you were nothing?
I glanced at Dean when he let out a grunt-like noise that ended with a snort.
He'd torn the country apart looking for his dad, Sam too.
I got up slowly. My muscles were achy and sore from sleeping so hard for so long; the sun was coming up now. I leaned on the window sill and looked out at the rising sun.
If my father was half as powerful as my mother, Aelia, and Used-to-be-Fake-Chris thought he was, he'd hear it. Even if I whispered.
"I'm gonna find you."