The River

Chapter 8 - Vulnerability

I sat on the front porch of Bobby's place, reading through one of Samuel Colt's journals. A cigarette dangled from my lips and a cold beer was resting on the stoop beside me.

I couldn't help but steal glances at Dean, who I had been avoiding since I scrambled out of his arms this morning. Somewhere between my sobs, I had fallen asleep but Dean continued to hold me while I was in my dreamless state.

I was mortified that I let myself become that vulnerable, especially so much that I had to seek the comfort of someone else to make it through. I felt like I was fourteen years old again.

Dean continued to wrench on my truck, stopping for a sip of his beer every so often and to wipe the sweat from his brow. I hadn't had to work hard to avoid him because it seemed as though he was avoiding me too. As soon as I pulled myself together this morning, he left and had found endless things to do so that he was not in the same room as me. I was pretty sure last night was out of character for him too.

I went back to searching through the journal. My grandfather had endless tales of his hunts, describing in-depth what he had seen and how he stopped it. He had compiled an incredible amount of lore about each evil thing, crossing out what he found to be false or making slight adjustments where need be. He always highlighted the facts that he knew were a sure way to kill the monster he had been studying.

The door behind me opened and Sam stepped outside, carrying another journal. He held it up in the air and mumbled, "Nothing."

Sam sighed and sat in the space beside me. "I'm starting to think Samuel Colt didn't know about Yellow Eyes."

I shrugged. "Maybe not," I muttered but something was telling me otherwise. If this Yellow Eyes was such a big player in the demon world as the brother believed him to be, I didn't believe my grandfather hadn't encountered him.

I was about halfway through the journal, reading the end of a chapter about leviathans. When I turned to the next page, I gasped as a sketch of a pair of yellow eyes were staring back at me.

✡️✡️✡️

Azazel - The Prince of Hell.

Made distinct by his yellow-colored eyes, Azazel is known as one of Hell's deadliest warriors. This powerful demon is one of the oldest demons known to mankind, created by Lucifer himself. He served Hell as a soldier for centuries in an unknown war but he was next in line to work as Hell's General, the position in which a powerful demon must lead a deadly army to battle in the war against mankind.

It is rumored that he has stepped into this position. There is no estimated time for this war but what I know is that Azazel is crafty and very intelligent. He was given the opportunity to design and lead this war and he will not waste it. He will have a plan and carry it out perfectly unless he is stopped. If he isn't stopped, the world will burn.

The only thing I know that will stop him is The Colt. I have been unable to track a summoning spell for him and a regular exorcism ritual will not touch him. I designed The Colt as a last resort, and Azazel is just that. Although The Colt has been never tested on a Prince of Hell, I am fairly certain it will work since I haven't found anything yet that it hasn't been able to kill.

Sam's hands were shaking slightly as he read the page aloud from my grandfather's journal to all of us who were crowded into Bobby's small living room.

"A Prince of Hell?" I gasped. The room was silent for several minutes and it seemed as though I was the one who snapped out my shocked state first.

"Have you ever heard of anything like this, Bobby?" Sam asked as he handed the journal over to Dean, who had his hand outstretched for it. Dean started skimming the page again immediately.

Bobby shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, "No, but I guess I'll start digging." Sam and Bobby began grabbing old dusty books off the shelf and stacking them up where they would be studying them for the foreseeable future.

I watched as Dean read the page over and over again. He was visibly shaking when he slammed it down and stormed out the door.

I mindlessly followed him. I forgot that I had been avoiding him all day because his eyes looked so pained. And for some reason, I could feel Dean's pain. It was nearly as bad as feeling my own. I wanted it to stop immediately.

I followed Dean to the old garage where he was working on my truck. I hovered near the back of my truck and watched as Dean had his hands gripped around the top of an old counter. His shoulders were hunched and his breaths were coming out in sharp gasps. I didn't think he realized he had been followed.

Suddenly, he screamed and threw everything off the counter onto the floor. He began kicking at the various tools, sending them crashing to the other side of the room. He picked up a nearby hammer and lodged it at the wall.

"Dean!" I screamed as he picked up another tool to throw. He let it fall to the ground and turned slowly towards me. He was panting between clenched teeth and although his eyes were wild and frantic, they were glazed over with a thin layer of tears that had yet to fall.

"What the fuck did this jackass want with my family?" Dean demanded. "I mean if he's some fucking hotshot, then why? Does he get his kicks murdering innocent women in their baby's nurseries?"

He was frantic and his arms were outstretched in the air as he shouted the words at me.

I didn't know what to say or how to calm him down. He looked as if he was seconds away from finding another tool to abuse, so I panicked and did the only thing I felt like doing at that moment.

I walked right up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my head into his chest.

He stiffened for a long time and I completely regretted what I had done. 'He must think I'm crazy,' I thought to myself. I was holding on to him now because I was too mortified to let go and face him.

After so long that I was praying a black hole would open in the floor and swallow me up, he suddenly wrapped his arms around me and nestled his face into the top of my head. His arms were strong and his hold made it a bit harder to breathe, which strangely enough felt good. I could feel his hot breath as he gasped and was almost sure I felt a couple of teardrops soak my hair.

We stood there like that for so long that I wasn't sure if minutes or hours had passed when he finally let go and placed his hands on my shoulders, gently pushing me away from his chest. My heart ached when the smell of whiskey and hints of aftershave was taken away from me.

He stared into my eyes and if he had been crying, there was no evidence that he had. "What was that for?" He asked.

I shrugged out of his grip and turned away, ignoring the question. "You said baby's nurseries?" I started, recalling the conversation before our little incident.

"Yeah?" Dean was puzzled and his tone was quizzing me. Yup, he thought I was nuts.

"As in more than one? Has there been others?" I asked, ignoring his confused expression.

"Well, yeah. Sammy's been having..." He trailed off, clearly leaving something out. "Anyways, we found more people like him with similar stories."

"That's got to be the connection," I exclaimed, turning back towards the house and gesturing for Dean to follow me. "C'mon!"

I expected him to follow me, but instead, he grabbed my gesturing arm and pulled me back. He still looked puzzled.

"Are we not going to talk about this?" He asked, while pointing to himself and back to me.

I shrugged and looked down at the ground before gulping and looking back up to him.

"Well, Winchester... I'm not much of the talking type. But if you want to know, I'm a little fucked up and it seems you are too, so I guess that's just it," I mumbled.

He stared at me in awe before his head fell back and he started to laugh. It was a big booming kind of laugh and he couldn't stop. I started to chuckle with him.

"We're a lot fucked up actually, River," he said when he had finished with his laughter, although he was still chuckling as he spoke the words.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and led me back towards the house. "Let's tell the others about whatever connection you made."