The River

Chapter 2 - Exhaustion

I ducked my head beneath the water to drown out the sounds of the arguing men. Sam and Dean had brought me back to a cheap motel room. Sam drove me there in their '67 Chevy Impala while Dean followed us in my Ford F-150 from some time in the early 1980s. I had wanted to pitch an argument to drive myself but I was exhausted and figured I would lose anyway. So I sucked it up and spent an uncomfortable car ride with a stranger instead. Sam didn't know what to say, and I had been strangulated so badly that I could hardly speak.

Sam did inform me on the drive that he and Dean were brothers who hunt the supernatural together. He said they had been doing it for a while but didn't elaborate much on it. Turns out, they were tracking the same case I had put together when they found me.

Sam told me to make myself at home when we arrived so I escaped to the bathroom. I didn't want to be here and it was hard to avoid the pair when you were trapped in a small motel room with them. That's why I decided to take a bath, drawing out as much time as I possibly could.

The arguing outside of the locked bathroom door had quieted down for several minutes so I decided to climb out of the bath. The water had been cooled for a least an hour and I had lost track of how much time I'd been in there.

I grabbed my old duffel bag in the corner of the bathroom and pulled on a pair of faded black leggings and an oversized grey hoodie. The comfortable outfit was necessary because I didn't expect to be awake for long, as exhaustion was already pulling at my eyelids.

I eyed myself in the mirror as I pulled a comb through my long brown hair, which was so dark it was nearly black. I decided to style it into two French braids on either side of my head. It was my go-to style because you can't let things like long wavy hair get in your way on a hunt.

I had learned that lesson when I was seventeen. The wind was blowing my loose hair behind me as I ran. I was being chased by a vampire and I had almost gotten away when they grabbed me by my hair and pulled me back. It was a bloody fight but I still managed to win. Ever since then, I usually kept it in my signature braids.

I watched as my mirrored blue eyes trailed down my face to the purple and blue bruises covering my neck. There were red welts in the shape of fingers on either side of my throat that were continuing to swell even further. The bruises looked terrible but I hoped that the dark shades against my pale skin was making it look worse than it was.

I practiced tucking my chin to try and cover the injuries but my jaw line was too sharp and the bruises were too large. It was useless to try and hide them.

I sighed and opened the door, entering the small room. It contained two double beds, a small sofa, and a circular table accompanied by two squeaky chairs. Dean was sitting at the table, scrolling through old newspaper articles on a laptop.

"Where's Sam?" I asked as I sat at the edge of one of the beds.

"He left," Dean said without looking up from his work. I waited several moments but it turns out that was the only explanation I was going to get.

"Okay," I mumbled and turned to the bed. "Hope you don't mind," I muttered as I crawled in under the faded quilt. I figured that probably wasn't very socially correct but I was on the brink of collapsing. Otherwise, I would have stormed out to find my own room.

Just as I was drifting to sleep, the laptop slamming shut startled me awake again.

"So tell me, how does a girl like you end up in this life?" Dean demanded.

I rolled over and found him in the same spot, but now looking at me. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was leaned back in the chair. I couldn't quite distinguish his expression but it was cold. I also couldn't figure out what he meant by 'a girl like me'.

I propped myself up against the headboard, not quite able to sit up completely. Exhaustion was pulling me back towards sleep but I fought to stay awake.

"That's none of your business," I mumbled.

"Seriously, you can't be any more than twenty years old," he stated, eyeing me. His eyes ran down to the bruises on my neck so I pulled the quilt up to my chin. I didn't like the way he was looking at them, it made me feel pitied.

"Twenty-three," I retorted, feeling defensive. I couldn't figure out why he scoffed at my answer when he looked as though he was only a few years older himself.

"No one chooses this life," he stated. I glared at him, remaining silent. He wasn't wrong. No one in their right mind would choose this life. I was sure he knew that it wasn't the case.

Several minutes passed and I could feel my fight against sleep was a losing battle. I was sure that my glare was lacking its menacing touch when my eyelids were drooping.

"Fine," Dean said, causing my eyes to snap open once again. "You don't want to tell me? That's fine. Why don't you tell me about the spirit you were hunting then?"

His tone was annoyed and I knew it would have pissed me off if I wasn't so damn tired.

My eyelids pulled shut for a moment but I fought to open them again. Dean's expression softened and he opened the laptop again. "You know what, never mind," he said in the same annoyed tone. "Get some rest, you clearly need it".

I couldn't object because as he was saying the words, exhaustion took over. I was nearly out when I heard Dean whisper, "Can you at least tell me your name?"

"River," I whispered with my eyes still closed. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep