The River

Chapter 5 - The Colt

A few hours later, a rusty pickup truck with a towing mechanism in the back pulled up to the motel. The boys gathered their things and started through the door with me following behind.

"Hey Bobby," Sam exclaimed, clasping his hand down on the man's shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze.

"Sam, Dean," Bobby acknowledged the pair, nodding in each of their directions as he spoke before his eyes landed on me. "Who's your friend?"

Sam gestured to me. I was standing back, twiddling my charm bracelet. I felt out of place and the attention was making me uncomfortable. I wasn't cowardly or shy, I just avoided people as much as possible and it felt odd to be doing the exact opposite. "This is River, she's a hunter. She helped us out with our last job."

Bobby gave me a warm smile but I could tell he was being cautious.

"Hi," I murmured. "Sorry for the trouble."

Bobby shrugged, "It's no trouble. C'mon Dean, help me load up the truck".

Dean and Bobby were out of earshot, getting the wench of the tow truck secured to my bonnet. Sam invited me to come with him to the diner where they had placed a take-out order for the road, but I politely declined. He took off in the Impala leaving me behind in the dust.

I trudged over to Dean and Bobby, ready to assist with the truck when I heard Bobby say, "I've met a lot of hunters and asked around before I came, and I got nothing."

Dean was puzzled. "You mean to tell me out of every hunter you know, no one has heard of River?"

Bobby shrugged. "No, but I mean I didn't have a lot to go off of, Dean. You don't even know her last name for crying out loud. You'd think you'd know more about who you're working with."

The pair glanced in my direction and noticed me walking to them, so they quickly stopped the conversation. They were awkwardly trying to cover up by switching the conversation to something else, and I could tell they were trying to figure out if I had heard them.

I acted obliviously. "Can I do anything to help?" I asked.

Dean jumped up from securing the truck and smacked his hands together as if to wipe off the dirt. "All done," he said matter-of-factually.

Bobby jumped in the driver's seat of his truck and pulled in the wench, lifting the front tires of my truck off the ground and readying it for the tow back to his salvage yard. My heart sank a bit seeing my truck like that. I had been through a lot with the thing, no matter how big of a piece of shit it was.

Sam pulled up in the Impala with our lunch. He jumped out of the drivers side, leaving the door open for Dean, and took a seat in the passenger side instead. I ducked into the back and we were off, following my busted truck to Bobby's place.

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We arrived at Bobby's after several hours of driving. We passed the time exchanging stories of some of the hunts we had accomplished. The boys seemed to be well-established hunters and I had some pretty great stories myself. When we weren't talking, the sounds of old rock music playing from the tape in the radio filled the silence for us.

I watched as we drove past several vehicles, all showing varying degrees of rust and age. Many of them were beat up or missing various parts. In amongst the salvage yard, there stood a two-story home that had taken on more qualities of a glorified shack. The house was in desperate need of some up-keeping, but I had to admit that it still held a certain charm.

It was mid-day and Sam led me into the house while Dean and Bobby unloaded my truck near what appeared to be an old garage. I wanted to try to help them out but Sam waved me off and mumbled a "they got it", as he continued to lead me into the house. I let him because despite being able to diagnose a mechanical problem, I didn't know how to fix much besides the very basics. I didn't want to admit that to Dean after showing off this morning.