Part Eleven
Harry wasn't what one would call an avid swimmer. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd even been in enough water to swim in.
Still, he didn't remember the water ever being so hard.
It felt like slamming into the ground after a particularly bad Wonski Feint- one very breakable object smacking unflinchingly into an unmovable surface.
The pain was all encompassing- until he couldn't breathe.
Icy, cold ocean flooded into his nose and mouth, dulling everything as it covered his ears.
Harry tried to move, tried to kick his legs and propel himself towards the surface but the tide slipped firmly around his body and pulled him under.
As he hit the underwater cliff face, he felt his ribs crack.
Swallowing more water than was healthy, Harry tried to hold onto the rock as the tide threatened to pull him back into the black space behind him. He hit the cliff again before his numb fingers dug into a sharp groove and stayed.
Above and below him was a stretch of black. Harry didn't know which way was up or which was down as he clung to the rock and tried not to drown. His lungs burned for oxygen.
Automatically his body started to float towards the surface, startling the hunter into scrabbling for a better hold before common sense told him to let buoyancy do the work for him.
His head broke the surface half-heartedly as Harry fought to keep himself above the water. His first breathe turned into a choking fit as what felt like buckets of ocean water were forced out of his lungs and stomach.
God, he needed to get out of the water.
His glasses were a lost cause as he squinted for a break in the unforgiving face of the cliff- an incline, a beach anything. His left arm was completely numb and hung uselessly at his side, drifting with the pull of the water. His ribs burned from the pressure simply breathing put on them.
What looked like the road they'd driven in on could be seen from the water, which meant the car was somewhere near that. Harry needed to get back up there, get back to Sam and Dean and John before Azazel took anyone else from him.
Determined to ignore the pain, he set off towards the dip in the shoreline, his battered body slowly knitting itself back together.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
John laughed mockingly in the demon's face.
"The Colt? You think I was stupid enough to bring it with me?"
Azazel didn't answer his bluff, seeming to read his mind. It smiled chillingly.
"As if you could resist the temptation. I knew you'd show up guns blazing the moment you realized Utah was a trap, ready to avenge dear, sweet Mary."
John stared at the demon, his blood boiling at the mention of his wife. The gun in question felt like it was burning a hole in his back. "If you're so sure I have the damn thing, why don't you just take it?"
The first sign of irritation flitted across the priest's face at that. It backed off of John, straying mindlessly towards his struggling sons. "You know the lore just as I- I cannot take it. You must give the Colt to me."
"What do you want with it?" Sam snarled, out of breath. "Unless you're going to start picking off your own kind?"
Azazel smirked at him. "If you think the Colt is only a gun you're an idiot, Samuel. It has so much potential…"
"I'm going to kill you." Dean promised darkly, his eyes hard and unflinching. "I swear I will."
The yellow-eyed demon clicking his teeth in sympathy. "Aw. Is someone upset that I killed his boyfriend? Well," It amended with a shrug. "Almost boyfriend. Never did get the balls to tell him huh?"
Dean gritted his teeth and pushed against the ground again, still as helpless as before, when he watched Harry tumble over the edge.
Azazel, bored with the oldest Winchester brother quickly, turning to study Sam instead. "Now, here's one I won't be throwing off any cliffs. Out of all my Special Children I have to say, you're the most impressive Samuel."
"I'll work harder to be a disappointment," Sam hissed angrily. Azazel crouched down to his level, like a parent talking down to a bratty child.
"You Winchesters certainly get attached easily. Was Harry that important to you all? He was defective," the demon spat in disgust. "I couldn't get to the brat in time- he was the last damned wizard I ever visited. Too many protections." Shrugging off the attack on Harry's parents like it was an annoying little tidbit, Azazel studied Sam intently. "What do you say to helping a guy out here? Go get the Colt from daddy and I'll let you keep it- after I get what I want."
"What do you want?" Sam asked, seeming to realize that they'd interrupted the demon by escaping the trap set by Meg.
Azazel shrugged causally. "Just a little something inside the church. You won't even know it's gone."
John sucked in a sharp breath, his lips drawn back into a surprised 'o'.
"He wants the knife."
"What knife?" Dean snapped from the ground, his energy spent. He'd stopped fighting the force holding him down, the grief on his face sharpening at the understanding that Harry wasn't just over the edge, hanging on for dear life.
"Some hunters believe that Samuel Colt didn't just stop at making a gun that could kill anything. They believe he went on to make seven more objects, among those a knife that could kill anything." John explained, like he couldn't believe it. He looked strange, pinned against the side of the church, his feet dangling with an expression of utter wonder on his face.
Azazel looked, not exactly surprised that John would know such a thing but oddly pleased at the notion. Like having the information made John a worthy adversary. "You are quite the historian, Johnny-boy."
"That still doesn't tell us why you need the Colt." Sam pointed out, suspicious.
The demon twirled towards him on the tips of his toes like this was all one big game to him. It probably was.
"Think of the Colt as the key to a very picky lock. Samuel Colt was a paranoid man- I need the Colt to get the knife."
"Don't give it to him," Dean called out, trying to raise his head. "No matter what he says- don't let him have it."
The dangerously playful air around the possessed man dropped like a stone as he turned away from Sam to pin his cold gaze on Dean.
"Think over this carefully, John. Who do I have to hurt before you'll do as I say?" It straightened from its crouched position beside his youngest boy. "Who else will die tonight before you hand over that gun to me?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
His hands were a bloody mess by the time he climbed up the side of the embankment and reached the road.
Harry pulled himself up onto the edge, soaking wet and gasping for air. He rolled away from another possible drop back into the ocean and brought his hands up, watching in awe as the skin neatly knitted itself back together, leaving a sticky mess of blood, gravel and grass on the unblemished skin.
Harry stumbled to his feet with a groan, not surprised to find all of his previous injuries gone. It appeared as though his ability was growing in strength; healing his wounds faster each time.
The impala gleamed in the moonlight less than a mile up the road. Harry took off at a run, spurred on by his need to get back to the Winchesters. If they were still alive.
The thought only quickened his pace.
He ripped off his waterlogged jacket when he reached the car, shivering in the cold air as he searched the trunk for something powerful enough to take out the yellow-eyed demon.
"Fuck!" He cursed as each gun, each knife and flame-thrower were dismissed. Harry had nothing to help him, no tool or weapon or exorcism strong enough to take out the demonic son of a bitch once and for all.
Despair settled over him as his hands pulled the bag he'd packed back in Utah from the trunk. Azazel had Sam and Dean and John in his grasp while Harry- useless, self-healing, magic-less Harry- poked around in a bottomless bag for some kind of magic trick-
His hand wrapped around a long, slim stick, setting off a momentary shower of sparks as Harry's magic began to bubble within him. Eyes widening, the hunter pulled a very familiar object from the never-ending depths of the bag and smiled.
Maybe he had something after all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
John's face went slack at the threat to his boys, his whole body seizing up at the very thought. Guilt made the gun burned hotter it seemed, as the demon began to drift between Sam and Dean.
"Don't listen to him!" His youngest shouted desperately before Azazel backhanded the air and Sam's head snapped to the side, reopening the scratches left from the daevas.
"Ah, ah now Sammy. Just because I need you in one piece, doesn't mean you can't withstand a little torture."
"Sammy's right, Dad." Dean added, straining to lift his head. "No matter what he does- don't give it to him."
Azazel's expression curled into a sneer as he strode across the rocky ground to stand over Dean's pinned body. He slowly brought his booted foot up before smashing it down on the helpless hunter's exposed wrist.
A scream broke out from between his tightly clamped lips before Dean could stop it. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply- through his nose and out his mouth- trying to deal with the sudden pain of having his wrist crushed by a supernaturally strong foot.
"Dean, Dean, Dean. You should have just kept your mouth shut. See, you I have no other use for."
Dean groaned in pain as an invisible something pressed steadily down on his lower ribs. Rocks and gravel flicked around as Sam kept trying to pull himself off the bolder, blood dripping steadily down his face. The demon grinned, looking around at the other Winchesters.
"Did you guys hear that? Snapped like a dry twig!" It turned back towards him with a toothy smile.
"Let's see how many bones I can break before daddy gives in."
Dean screamed.