As We Sleep Among the Dead 1/2
title: As we sleep among the Dead
author: caz2y5
artist: reapertownusa
wordcount: 9,130
fandom: Supernatural/L4D/The Walking Dead
pairing: Dean/Cas
rating: R
warning: graphic violence, rotting, flesh eating, m/m kissing and nudity. Season 5. Goes AU After Castiel becomes human but before Bobby gets out of the chair.
disclaimer: Zombies aren't real just like any claim i have to the Characters which respectively belong to Kripke and Valve.
summary: SPN/L4D Dean wakes from a coma to find that the world ended while he was asleep. he finds himself alone in a world where the dead walk and Dean sets out to find his car, his brother and his fallen angel.
Notes: Thanks go to reapertownusa Who's brilliant art work is better than i could have hoped for. My Beta meus_venator. and tothunder_nari and glasslogic Who's awesome cheerleading skills got me through being sick whilst writing this.
Art Master Post
Fic Master post
part 1 part 2
“Dean… It’s me, Castiel… you need to wake up…oh father... please Dean. Wake up.”
Dean lurched forward, his shoulders and head coming clear off the mattress as he comes awake with a gasp. Hazel eyes flashing open, his breathing raggedy and hitching in his throat. His heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. Wide eyed, Dean glances around the room trying to shake off the dream and take in his surroundings.
A grimace crosses his features as he leans forward. Knees sliding up and forearms wrapping across the top of them. The ragged in out of his breathing is the only sound in the silent hospital room. Dean feels like he needs more air, each deep breath like razor blades scraping across nerve endings in his chest. He knows even before he presses a palm to the sensitive part of his ribs, that their broken. That rules out deep breaths for the time being.
Dean’s hair is slick with sweat when he runs his hands through it. Wracking his brain as he tries to recall exactly how the hell he had ended up in a hospital bed, and wearing an open fronted blue gown. There's machinery on each side of the bed, which Dean figures from the pull of the wires and cables, are monitoring him. Although right now none of them appear to be switched on.
There is a buzzer for the nurse on a small bedside table and Dean reaches for it. Wincing when the needle in his arm reminds him he shouldn’t reach that far with that hand. Dean presses the buzzer, a frown on his face when there is no accompanying noise out beyond the closed door and the light on the wall of switches behind the bed doesn't go on.
"Nurse?"
The words croak out, barely a whisper, The sound of it grates in his throat like gargling ground glass. Even his tongue is like sand paper as he swallows and presses to the roof of his mouth. Dean can’t find any water; even the IV bag is empty. Dean runs his tongue over his lips and calls out again.
"Nurse?"
When its still quiet after five minutes Dean sighs and starts pulling the sensors from his chest. The needle from his wrist goes next and it takes a minute for the bleeding to stop before he can try and get up.
It's not just the bad service but where the fuck is Cas and Sam? Last Dean can recall the three of them had been on a hunt and Dean had made the mistake of mouthing off at a demon. That went a long way to explaining the gown and drab white walls. So if Dean was hurt what happened to Sam and Cas that they weren’t waiting here for him to wake up?
When he finally drops his feet over the side of the bed, Dean hesitates. It feel a lot like he has been hit by a truck and he isn’t completely sure that he has the strength to even stand. After a moment though he pushes up and there is a pounding in his head that threatens to topple him.
It was supposed to be a simple hunt. Go in the abandoned shoe factory, find the bones of the pissed off dead guy and burn them before he could kill anyone else. Simple.
That was what it was supposed to be. If Cas could face down a ghost while they salt and burned it’s bones, then Dean and Sam would see about letting him come along with them on the tougher ones. Easy peasy.
But since when had things ever been easy for the Winchesters. Turns out it wasn’t a vengeful spirit but a Revenant.
Dean had always figured he would buy it on a hunt. It was one of those destiny things that he had no argument with. Better to go down fighting than old and frail or worse.
Sam had run to the car to get the things they needed to take care of the thing while Cas and Dean had tried to hold it off. Shotguns didn’t do much except maybe piss it off more.
Cas went sprawling first, tossed across the room like a ragdoll. Dean couldn’t do anything to help him because the next minute the Revenant was on him. All claws and teeth, Dean slammed into the support structure for the floor above, the air knocked from his lungs.
Before he could get his bearings it pitched him across the room and Dean slammed hard against the wall of the abandoned shoe factory. He felt ribs crack from the force of it he knew it was only a matter of time before the lights went out.
Dean rolled on to his stomach and tried to crawl toward Ruby’s knife. It hurt to breathe and Dean couldn’t get his lungs to expand far enough for him to catch his breath, it made him light headed and dizzy
Blood dripped down his face from a cut on his forehead where he had bounced off the brick wall.
Its rotted fingers wrapped around his throat and it lifted him up and slammed him hard back against the wall. Dean kicked at it and scrabbled at the hands at his throat as it swam in Deans’ field of vision.
Dean fought the panic that rose up inside his chest as sparks of light popped in his head. The thing flickered like it wasn’t really there and then its grip tightened. Dean hoped that Sam and Cas got out of there okay as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Dean staggered the small distance to the little private bathroom. The water from the tap is cold and he bends gulping it down till he feels like he may burst with it.
He straightens catching sight of himself in the mirror. There is a cut down his forehead that looks like it has begun to heal. His skin is pale and there is a beard in the making across his jaw. The hair almost as thick as his father wore his own. Dean scratches his fingers through it for a minute then turns back to the hospital room.
There is a chart hanging on the end of the bed and Dean walks up and reads it. A smile crosses his lips when he sees his name at the top of the chart. Dean Romero. He sighs as he tries to make out what the chart says about why the hell he is here.
Some of it he can read like: Inter Cranial Pressure, Coma, also superficial, and that last one there could be hematoma. Deans’ pretty sure Doctors must take a class in scribble along with the Latin and all that medical stuff that they learn. But at least he knows why he is there.
The one thing that bothers him though is the date he was last checked on by a nurse. There is almost a two month discrepancy from the date here and the date he walked into that warehouse with Sam and Cas.
Dean was sitting on the hood of the impala a cold beer in his hand as he looked up at the stars. He was lost in thought, not really looking at the dark sky. He had to figure out how to make sure that he and Sam wouldn’t have to say yes. Dean was so lost in his thought it took him a few moments before he realized the warmth next to him wasn’t Sam.
Castiel was sitting quietly on the hood beside him, his head turned up at the stars as well.
"Cas?"
Castiel turned just his head, tilting it in that way he did that had only blue eyes turning to meet Dean’s. “Yes Dean?"
Dean glanced around at their surroundings, just the two of them seated on the impala in an endless blackness with only the stars bright in the sky. Dean frowns but Castiel answers the unasked question.
"Sam is asleep on the back seat.”
He leans forward and ducks down as he looks back through the windshield. There is condensation on the glass and Dean can make out the slight movement of Sam as he tosses in his sleep..
Dean sits back against the windscreen and turns his gaze back up to the stars again.
“Do you think we will make it Cas?” Dean asks, his eyes still looking up at the stars.
Castiel sighs pulling his coat a little tighter around himself. Dean can’t help but notice just how much more Cas is feeling the cold now his grace has dwindled so much.
“You are Dean Winchester. I have come to believe you are capable of anything.” Castiel offers with a sincere look on his face.
Dean’s eyes fall from the stars to land on Cas as he meets his gaze. “That’s not what I asked.”
Castiel smiles so warmly that his eyes light up. It’s the first time Dean has seen him smile and he isn’t sure if he should be happy at how incredible a smile it is or sad because his angel has fallen far enough to smile. And since when did he think of Cas as his angel.
The hospital seems abandoned. Litter is strewn through the darkened corridors and it’s eerily silent. The power is out too. The lack of lighting leaves some of the corridors so dark he can’t see his hand in front of his face.
The nurse’s station is just as dark and deserted as the hallways, but Dean doesn’t let that stop him. He searches the darkness. Checking the phone first, but it’s dead. Then Dean feels around in the dark until he finds the night nurse’s flashlight.
It makes it easier to find what he is looking for. He finds a phone book under the counter and Dean sticks the flashlight in his mouth as he flips through the pages. He finds the hotel listings and the address of the first hotel. Dean tears the page out, folding it before dropping the book back on the table. One last glance around and he leaves, making his way down the dark hospital corridor.
After scrambling around a flipped gurney and glancing into a few rooms Dean finds what he is looking for. The linen closet has sheets and blankets and on a shelf in the back there are some blue scrubs. Dean digs out a pair and slips them on. Still no shoes but its better than the butt cleavage revealing gown he is wearing.
Further down, there is an exit in the form of a stairwell. It stinks of rot and decay, and two flights down Dean stumbles across a corpse. He trails the light over it. Can see it has been there a while. Dean isn’t sure if it was chewed on before or after it died.
He pushes down the bar and opens the door, eyes squinting shut in the bright afternoon sun. Dean pauses, hand held up to shield his eyes from the brightness as he looks around. Dean breathes in the air. Sweet and fresh after the stifling enclosing reek of the stairwell.
Outside is even worse than the mess inside the hospital although there are no bodies the ground is littered with refuse. Cars stand in the middle of the road, abandoned with the doors open. A few of the surrounding buildings look like there has been looting and fires.
It reminds Dean of when Zachariah sent him forward to 2014 and he swallows down the sick feeling in his stomach. There is no one around and Dean is glad. He doesn’t exactly want to run into any Croat’s while wearing nothing but hospital scrubs.
The field of flowers seemed to go on forever, coloring the desert sand purple in all directions. He has no idea how he got there or even where it is but it reminds him of Arizona in the spring when the desert flowers bloom.
Dean raises his palm to shield his eyes from the radiating white orb of the sun as he looks around. There are Mountains in the distance, a dark chocolate against an azure sky. The place would be almost beautiful if he didn’t feel so damned alone.
“Hello, Dean.” Cas says appearing from nowhere like he use to back in his angel days
Dean spins to face him and there is this look on Cas’ face. Its somewhere between happiness and sadness, both at the same time as Cas tilts his head to the side
They stand there just out of arms reach of each other as the sun reels across the sky chased by the moon. Day becoming night becoming day. The mountains wearing away to dust as the flowers die and re-bloom over and over.
It’s an eternity as they keep each others gaze. Even the sand shifts beneath their feet as the landscape changes. Bones of things long dead are unearthed and the sand swallowing them up all over again.
“Cas?” The question breaks the mesmerizing play out of the universe around them and Dean steps forward. Closes the space between them and pulls Cas into an embrace before he can even think about it being awkward.
Dean sticks to cover. Moving from doorway to doorway or crouching behind cars until he reaches the hotel. He doesn’t see anyone and the silence is even more eerie than it had been in the hospital.
He is kind of disappointed because he had hoped the Impala would be parked in the lot out front only it’s not there. Dean puts the thought out of his mind and heads to the office.
The office is deserted and Dean doesn’t bother to call out or ring the bell on the counter. Instead he just goes behind it and checks the guest register. Samuel Savini and Castiel Weber, Room 14. Dean runs his hand over the names and then turns to help himself to the room key.
That’s when he sees him. The motel clerk standing in the door way and Dean’s all ready to feed him a line about why he’s on the wrong side of the counter when the guy lunges at him. Hands like claws grabbing at his arm and shirt with his mouth open. Dean falls backwards over the counter the cloying stench of decay hits him and he is surprised he didn’t smell the thing sooner.
There is a struggle. Dean’s not fighting well because of his ribs and the shock, his brain refusing to kick into survival mode. Dean’s got a hand under its jaw holding it out of reach as it snaps and claws at him.
Dean scrabbles reaching out for something to brain the guy with. His hand lands on the reception phone and Dean brings it up, slams it into the clerk’s head. There is a snap and the guy’s head lolls to the side. Not that it seems to deter him in anyway from trying to bite Dean. But Dean is up and off the counter grabbing the fire extinguisher from the wall and braining the guy with it over and over again till he stops moving.
Dean stares at the still form, still holding the fire extinguisher over his head as he tries to get his breathing back under control and wincing each time his chest expands enough to hurt. His eyes wide and his heart racing as it occurs to him just how fucked up this is.
This had to be an angel thing. Dean’s mind still recalling how eerily familiar to Zachariah’s future trip this all was. Only this time it was like being in a Romero zombie film instead of being attacked by the Croatoan’s. Dean kicks the Clerk in the guts to make sure he is down for the count. This was an honest to god zombie.
Dean glances around making sure there aren’t more of them before he kneels down and pokes the guy. Even before he had caved it’s head in with the fire extinguisher the guy had been covered in blood. Dean was betting not all of it had been the clerks. Especially the stuff smeared around its mouth. There had been a gaping wound in the guy’s throat which was obviously where he had been bitten.
This guy flew in the face of all that Dean knew about actual zombies. Not that he had silver to pin it into its coffin anyway. But this thing, that appeared to eat human flesh and only stopped when you caved its head in. That was just all kinds of wrong.
“Not funny, you son of a bitch.” Dean curses loudly at the sky hoping Zachariah or Raphael, which ever of those junkless dicks had done this heard him. He was sick of being manipulated.
When Dean is certain the guy isn’t going to get up again, he stands. Keeping his eyes on the body anxiously, Dean grabs all of the room keys and heads out the door.
Room 14 was empty. Dean had kind of hoped, but it made sense, this place wasn’t exactly the best location to hole up against what ever the fuck had happened while Dean had been unconscious. There is no note, nothing. Like always there is no trace there was ever a Winchester staying in the room at all.
Dean tries the other rooms, careful that there isn’t another of those things locked in any of them. A few are empty but a few contain discarded suitcases and other personal effects. Dean wolfs down a bag of chips and then collects up all the food and drink from the mini bars.
Dean hesitated, shining the light of the flashlight in all three directions again before his curiosity got the better of him. He made his way, tip toeing toward the double doors at the end of the shadow filled corridor. There were smears of blood on the wall and the occasional bloody hand print. When he reached the doors they’re shut, secured with a piece of broken broom handle slid between the two handles.
He put his hand on both the loops of metal, sticking the flashlight in his mouth and holding them together while he used the other hand to pull the broom handle out. Taking the light out of his mouth Dean cautiously pushed one of doors open. There was a little light filtering in from the bay of windows on the far wall and the things that it illuminated… It was like stepping into the twilight zone.
There was blood. A lot of it. And about five people sitting amongst it. Dean’s mind reeled. These things had to be ghosts or something because there was no way living people could look like that.
One of them shifted and looked in his direction. An open wound in its cheek revealed a glimpse of yellowed teeth. There was blood smeared down the front of it, covering its mouth and hands.
Something was off about its eyes too, all blood shot and discolored. At first Dean thought the thing was sucking the blood from the fingers of its hands. But then he realized it was chewing at its own digits.
Dean stared at it waiting for that tell tale flicker that would tell him it was a ghost. Only it didn’t flicker. Instead it raised its head and moaned at him. A low noise that made the other four snap their heads in Dean’s direction.
This was bad. Dean had seen enough horror films to know that this could in no way be good
There is a split second where, when confronted by something that the human mind can’t comprehend; that thing in the dark that invokes something primordial deep inside. A moment where there is indecision on where to fight or flee.
Dean had that moment, only thanks to his years of training and hunting, it isn’t a moment of hesitation. His brain already assessing how to fight the things in front of him. Silver is the only thing he knows of and he doesn’t have any. Not salt, Not a gun. All he has is a flashlight and stupid broken broom handle.
The things were getting closer. Dean didn’t need to think about it, he reached out to pull the door shut when four blood stained and damaged fingers curled around the wood edge of the door. Pulling slightly as the thing stepped from behind it.
Dean had seen his fair share of scary dead things but this; its bottom jaw was missing. It’s tongue lolling down over the gaping hole of what was left of its throat. Viscera hung from it and if Dean had been unsure about the whole ‘these things are real’ thing he wasn’t anymore. Not when it reached out with its other bony hand and its fingers grasped at Dean’s wrist.
Dean back peddled expecting to feel nails rake down his skin but instead something slimy and wet smears itself across his hand. Dean feels ill as the things skin separates from its hand in globs of putrid muck.
By the time Dean leaves the hotel the sun is low in the sky and he has maybe two hours of light left. He’s got a plastic shopping bag full of food, drink and matches. Dean also has a plan, it’s not much but it’s a start.
He holes up for the night in an abandoned sports and camping store. Dean had past it on the way to the motel and seen that the door was wide open. He didn’t exactly hold out any hope of there being any weapons left in there but the windows and doors were reinforced and barred. Dean figured so long as there weren’t too many of those things inside he could barricade it.
There is a chewed on corpse on the floor just far enough back from the door that he couldn’t clearly see it from the street. It’s good because it means that the store at some point had zombies in it and it probably wasn’t looted. Dean hauls it outside and closes the door.
A half hour later the entire shop is searched and deemed clear. Dean barricades as much of the entries as he can. Taping blankets over the windows before he sets up and lights a camping stove.
Dean strips out of his scrubs and cleans himself in the staff toilet washing away the dried blood and filth. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror for long before dressing in clothes and shoes he has grabbed from the store. K rations and mini bar bottles of whiskey and Dean is settling down to sleep in camping gear.
It taken him what feels like forever skulking his way across the states. Hiding from those things and hoping to find someone who’s alive. He’s been following the i90 for a day when he comes across the Impala.
It’s fenced in by a blockade of ruined cars on the outskirts of some small town. His first thought is how good it is to see his car. The town is nothing but ramshackle and crumbling buildings. There is nothing but debris littering the street.
Slowly Dean approaches the car, pistol at the ready. Eyes scanning the streets for walkers while his brain tries not to think too hard about where Sam and Cas went. Or why they abandoned his baby.
When he is close enough Dean takes his other hand off his gun and runs it slowly over the rear fender. If any one had seen him they would have thought it was a lover’s caress.
“Hey baby, what did those mean undead do to you?”
Three more strides and he is at the drivers door. He’s still watching the buildings and streets. Listening for the tell tale moan of their approach.
He’s so busy keeping an eye on the empty street that when he opens the door he hadn’t seen the thing until it lunges at him from the driver’s seat.
It’s face is sallow and grey. Skin sagging where it’s torn and hanging from his face. Eyes a dull glassy grey color with flecks of red through them. Its hair hangs down shaggy and matted with dried blood and dirt. Blood drips from its mouth and coats its teeth.
“No! Oh god Sammy, no!”
Dean wrenches away from his grip and turns to run only Castiel is standing behind him. Fencing him in and keeping him from running. His trench coat is torn and bloody. Bone is visible through a gash in his chest where his shirt is torn open.
Dean feels his heart break as Cas’ mouth opens lips curling back to reveal dirty bloody teeth. He closes his hands on the lapels of Castiel's trench coat pushing him back. His eyes wide and his gut turning at the stench.
Hands close over his own shoulders and Dean is helpless to pull away as Sam's teeth sink into the flesh of his exposed throat. He lets go of Cas to tug and shove at Sam but it’s no good. Dean screams as Cas moves in closer to join in Sam's feast.
Dean feels much better with a gun in his hands. Other than the dream he hadn’t really slept except in fitful bursts, his hand on the knife under his pillow most of the night.
He is armed, packed and ready to put his plan into action before the sun rises. He has to wait till it’s light enough though so he can see them coming. Dean is silent and careful. It only takes him about two hours to siphon two jerry cans full of gas from the cars in the street.
He puts the gas and two large duffle’s full of supplies into the back of the only car he hadn’t siphoned from. Dean eases the door shut and glances around. He had been fairly quiet but there are still a few of those things, bodies decaying as they shamble toward him.
It takes under thirty seconds to hot wire the car. The engine sputters a few times before turning over and roaring to life. He hopes the things been regularly serviced because as he sits up he sees another of those things shamble from behind the building next to him and start lurching slowly toward him.
Its got almost a full tank and Dean is relieved as he shifts it into gear and makes his way through the town. His plan is to make his way to Bobby’s. It’s a two day drive away and Dean is figuring on taking the back roads if the major towns all look like this. He just hopes there are no Croat fences to get through.
The road is one long black line that stretches for miles in front of him. Reaching into the distance till it smudges into nothing where the horizon meets the most beautiful azure sky. The engine of the Impala purring as the tires eat up the distance with out getting any closer.
Dean’s alone, hand tapping on the wheel and elbow resting on the door as he drives. The sun is shining and it’s just the right amount of warm as the wind whistles through the open window. Travelling Riverside Blues is playing on the radio and Dean can’t help but think there is just one thing missing.
“Hello Dean.”
Dean turns to look and Castiel smiles a greeting from the passenger seat. Dean would never say it out loud but he is beginning to appreciate the way Castiel’s face lights up with that smile.
“Cas?” Dean flicks his eyes from Cas to the road and then finally back to Cas. “How the hell did you get here?”
Castiel stares out the front windscreen watching as the scenery changes. The brightness bleeding instantly from the sky until it’s no longer a bright summer sky but a clear dark blue night. Stars sparkle visibly from the firmament and the moon is a large grey and silver orb sitting unmoving just above the same horizon that they drive towards it.
Castiel’s eyes seem sad even though he is still smiling. “I was about to ask you that same question. As I believe this may be a dream.”
A dream. “huh?” Dean figured that made just about as much sense as the rest of the things that had happened to him lately. A frown creased Dean’s face. Dean only really had two kinds of dreams and unless Castiel started taking his clothes off or died then this one didn’t fit the bill for either.
“Which one of us is dreaming Cas.”
Castiel’s tie flaps in the breeze of the rolled down windows. “That certainly is an interesting question.” He grinned as he tugged open his tie
Dean glances at Cas. He’s no longer wearing his trench coat and suit. Instead he is dressed the same way Cas was the last time he had seen him for real. Faded denim tight round his thighs, one of Dean’s old Zeppelin shirts where the transfer is so faded you can’t even read it any more and the cuff of the collar is torn.
There was a spark of something inside Dean’s chest, just a whisper of something so sentimental that it almost ached. Dean raised a hand and reached out resting it on Cas’ shoulder. Dean brushed his thumb across Cas’ collarbone.
“I’m going to find you and Sammy, Cas.” Dean stated. So certain of it being a fact. “You know that right?” He smiled hoping that Cas had the same certain faith to know it was true.
Cas looked at him and returned the same warm smile. “I have faith that you will.”
Dean pulls up to a farm house. He had planned to drive straight through but the road is haphazardly clogged with abandoned cars and given the time it takes to shift them he doesn’t really want to have to do it in the dark. So before the sun gets too low in the sky he stops.
It’s pretty far back from the road and there are no cars out front even though he is kind of hoping there is some one alive inside. He even knocks on the door before he realizes that if any of those things are in there he just called them to dinner.
It’s silent though and Dean walks across the porch looking in the windows to see if he can see anything shambling around. Dean freezes at the third window. It’s a small sitting room with floral wallpaper and a matching lounge suite. It’s not that that stops him though.
Sitting in an armchair is a man. He’s slouched forward in such a way that what was left after the rifle fired has spilled out the large hole in his head and dribbled onto the floor. There is also a woman and a younger looking man on the couch opposite their brains painting the wall behind them.
Dean moves around to the back of the house finding an open window to shimmy through. Once he is sure the house is empty Dean throws blankets from a linen cupboard over the bodies and proceeds to search and barricade the house.
Hammering the last board across the window Dean rests his head against it. He never really was a praying man. Not even now that he knows god is out there and that he just doesn’t give a fuck. But he prays now. Prays that Sam and Cas are safe, that they’re not out there somewhere shambling with the other monsters.
He throws down a handful of Tylenol to drown out the droning ache of fatigue and broken ribs. Washes them down with more mini bar alcohol and chews down some jerky before curling up exhausted and trying to sleep.
part 2
author: caz2y5
artist: reapertownusa
wordcount: 9,130
fandom: Supernatural/L4D/The Walking Dead
pairing: Dean/Cas
rating: R
warning: graphic violence, rotting, flesh eating, m/m kissing and nudity. Season 5. Goes AU After Castiel becomes human but before Bobby gets out of the chair.
disclaimer: Zombies aren't real just like any claim i have to the Characters which respectively belong to Kripke and Valve.
summary: SPN/L4D Dean wakes from a coma to find that the world ended while he was asleep. he finds himself alone in a world where the dead walk and Dean sets out to find his car, his brother and his fallen angel.
Notes: Thanks go to reapertownusa Who's brilliant art work is better than i could have hoped for. My Beta meus_venator. and tothunder_nari and glasslogic Who's awesome cheerleading skills got me through being sick whilst writing this.
Art Master Post
Fic Master post
part 1 part 2
“Dean… It’s me, Castiel… you need to wake up…oh father... please Dean. Wake up.”
Dean lurched forward, his shoulders and head coming clear off the mattress as he comes awake with a gasp. Hazel eyes flashing open, his breathing raggedy and hitching in his throat. His heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. Wide eyed, Dean glances around the room trying to shake off the dream and take in his surroundings.
A grimace crosses his features as he leans forward. Knees sliding up and forearms wrapping across the top of them. The ragged in out of his breathing is the only sound in the silent hospital room. Dean feels like he needs more air, each deep breath like razor blades scraping across nerve endings in his chest. He knows even before he presses a palm to the sensitive part of his ribs, that their broken. That rules out deep breaths for the time being.
Dean’s hair is slick with sweat when he runs his hands through it. Wracking his brain as he tries to recall exactly how the hell he had ended up in a hospital bed, and wearing an open fronted blue gown. There's machinery on each side of the bed, which Dean figures from the pull of the wires and cables, are monitoring him. Although right now none of them appear to be switched on.
There is a buzzer for the nurse on a small bedside table and Dean reaches for it. Wincing when the needle in his arm reminds him he shouldn’t reach that far with that hand. Dean presses the buzzer, a frown on his face when there is no accompanying noise out beyond the closed door and the light on the wall of switches behind the bed doesn't go on.
"Nurse?"
The words croak out, barely a whisper, The sound of it grates in his throat like gargling ground glass. Even his tongue is like sand paper as he swallows and presses to the roof of his mouth. Dean can’t find any water; even the IV bag is empty. Dean runs his tongue over his lips and calls out again.
"Nurse?"
When its still quiet after five minutes Dean sighs and starts pulling the sensors from his chest. The needle from his wrist goes next and it takes a minute for the bleeding to stop before he can try and get up.
It's not just the bad service but where the fuck is Cas and Sam? Last Dean can recall the three of them had been on a hunt and Dean had made the mistake of mouthing off at a demon. That went a long way to explaining the gown and drab white walls. So if Dean was hurt what happened to Sam and Cas that they weren’t waiting here for him to wake up?
When he finally drops his feet over the side of the bed, Dean hesitates. It feel a lot like he has been hit by a truck and he isn’t completely sure that he has the strength to even stand. After a moment though he pushes up and there is a pounding in his head that threatens to topple him.
It was supposed to be a simple hunt. Go in the abandoned shoe factory, find the bones of the pissed off dead guy and burn them before he could kill anyone else. Simple.
That was what it was supposed to be. If Cas could face down a ghost while they salt and burned it’s bones, then Dean and Sam would see about letting him come along with them on the tougher ones. Easy peasy.
But since when had things ever been easy for the Winchesters. Turns out it wasn’t a vengeful spirit but a Revenant.
Dean had always figured he would buy it on a hunt. It was one of those destiny things that he had no argument with. Better to go down fighting than old and frail or worse.
Sam had run to the car to get the things they needed to take care of the thing while Cas and Dean had tried to hold it off. Shotguns didn’t do much except maybe piss it off more.
Cas went sprawling first, tossed across the room like a ragdoll. Dean couldn’t do anything to help him because the next minute the Revenant was on him. All claws and teeth, Dean slammed into the support structure for the floor above, the air knocked from his lungs.
Before he could get his bearings it pitched him across the room and Dean slammed hard against the wall of the abandoned shoe factory. He felt ribs crack from the force of it he knew it was only a matter of time before the lights went out.
Dean rolled on to his stomach and tried to crawl toward Ruby’s knife. It hurt to breathe and Dean couldn’t get his lungs to expand far enough for him to catch his breath, it made him light headed and dizzy
Blood dripped down his face from a cut on his forehead where he had bounced off the brick wall.
Its rotted fingers wrapped around his throat and it lifted him up and slammed him hard back against the wall. Dean kicked at it and scrabbled at the hands at his throat as it swam in Deans’ field of vision.
Dean fought the panic that rose up inside his chest as sparks of light popped in his head. The thing flickered like it wasn’t really there and then its grip tightened. Dean hoped that Sam and Cas got out of there okay as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Dean staggered the small distance to the little private bathroom. The water from the tap is cold and he bends gulping it down till he feels like he may burst with it.
He straightens catching sight of himself in the mirror. There is a cut down his forehead that looks like it has begun to heal. His skin is pale and there is a beard in the making across his jaw. The hair almost as thick as his father wore his own. Dean scratches his fingers through it for a minute then turns back to the hospital room.
There is a chart hanging on the end of the bed and Dean walks up and reads it. A smile crosses his lips when he sees his name at the top of the chart. Dean Romero. He sighs as he tries to make out what the chart says about why the hell he is here.
Some of it he can read like: Inter Cranial Pressure, Coma, also superficial, and that last one there could be hematoma. Deans’ pretty sure Doctors must take a class in scribble along with the Latin and all that medical stuff that they learn. But at least he knows why he is there.
The one thing that bothers him though is the date he was last checked on by a nurse. There is almost a two month discrepancy from the date here and the date he walked into that warehouse with Sam and Cas.
Dean was sitting on the hood of the impala a cold beer in his hand as he looked up at the stars. He was lost in thought, not really looking at the dark sky. He had to figure out how to make sure that he and Sam wouldn’t have to say yes. Dean was so lost in his thought it took him a few moments before he realized the warmth next to him wasn’t Sam.
Castiel was sitting quietly on the hood beside him, his head turned up at the stars as well.
"Cas?"
Castiel turned just his head, tilting it in that way he did that had only blue eyes turning to meet Dean’s. “Yes Dean?"
Dean glanced around at their surroundings, just the two of them seated on the impala in an endless blackness with only the stars bright in the sky. Dean frowns but Castiel answers the unasked question.
"Sam is asleep on the back seat.”
He leans forward and ducks down as he looks back through the windshield. There is condensation on the glass and Dean can make out the slight movement of Sam as he tosses in his sleep..
Dean sits back against the windscreen and turns his gaze back up to the stars again.
“Do you think we will make it Cas?” Dean asks, his eyes still looking up at the stars.
Castiel sighs pulling his coat a little tighter around himself. Dean can’t help but notice just how much more Cas is feeling the cold now his grace has dwindled so much.
“You are Dean Winchester. I have come to believe you are capable of anything.” Castiel offers with a sincere look on his face.
Dean’s eyes fall from the stars to land on Cas as he meets his gaze. “That’s not what I asked.”
Castiel smiles so warmly that his eyes light up. It’s the first time Dean has seen him smile and he isn’t sure if he should be happy at how incredible a smile it is or sad because his angel has fallen far enough to smile. And since when did he think of Cas as his angel.
The hospital seems abandoned. Litter is strewn through the darkened corridors and it’s eerily silent. The power is out too. The lack of lighting leaves some of the corridors so dark he can’t see his hand in front of his face.
The nurse’s station is just as dark and deserted as the hallways, but Dean doesn’t let that stop him. He searches the darkness. Checking the phone first, but it’s dead. Then Dean feels around in the dark until he finds the night nurse’s flashlight.
It makes it easier to find what he is looking for. He finds a phone book under the counter and Dean sticks the flashlight in his mouth as he flips through the pages. He finds the hotel listings and the address of the first hotel. Dean tears the page out, folding it before dropping the book back on the table. One last glance around and he leaves, making his way down the dark hospital corridor.
After scrambling around a flipped gurney and glancing into a few rooms Dean finds what he is looking for. The linen closet has sheets and blankets and on a shelf in the back there are some blue scrubs. Dean digs out a pair and slips them on. Still no shoes but its better than the butt cleavage revealing gown he is wearing.
Further down, there is an exit in the form of a stairwell. It stinks of rot and decay, and two flights down Dean stumbles across a corpse. He trails the light over it. Can see it has been there a while. Dean isn’t sure if it was chewed on before or after it died.
He pushes down the bar and opens the door, eyes squinting shut in the bright afternoon sun. Dean pauses, hand held up to shield his eyes from the brightness as he looks around. Dean breathes in the air. Sweet and fresh after the stifling enclosing reek of the stairwell.
Outside is even worse than the mess inside the hospital although there are no bodies the ground is littered with refuse. Cars stand in the middle of the road, abandoned with the doors open. A few of the surrounding buildings look like there has been looting and fires.
It reminds Dean of when Zachariah sent him forward to 2014 and he swallows down the sick feeling in his stomach. There is no one around and Dean is glad. He doesn’t exactly want to run into any Croat’s while wearing nothing but hospital scrubs.
The field of flowers seemed to go on forever, coloring the desert sand purple in all directions. He has no idea how he got there or even where it is but it reminds him of Arizona in the spring when the desert flowers bloom.
Dean raises his palm to shield his eyes from the radiating white orb of the sun as he looks around. There are Mountains in the distance, a dark chocolate against an azure sky. The place would be almost beautiful if he didn’t feel so damned alone.
“Hello, Dean.” Cas says appearing from nowhere like he use to back in his angel days
Dean spins to face him and there is this look on Cas’ face. Its somewhere between happiness and sadness, both at the same time as Cas tilts his head to the side
They stand there just out of arms reach of each other as the sun reels across the sky chased by the moon. Day becoming night becoming day. The mountains wearing away to dust as the flowers die and re-bloom over and over.
It’s an eternity as they keep each others gaze. Even the sand shifts beneath their feet as the landscape changes. Bones of things long dead are unearthed and the sand swallowing them up all over again.
“Cas?” The question breaks the mesmerizing play out of the universe around them and Dean steps forward. Closes the space between them and pulls Cas into an embrace before he can even think about it being awkward.
Dean sticks to cover. Moving from doorway to doorway or crouching behind cars until he reaches the hotel. He doesn’t see anyone and the silence is even more eerie than it had been in the hospital.
He is kind of disappointed because he had hoped the Impala would be parked in the lot out front only it’s not there. Dean puts the thought out of his mind and heads to the office.
The office is deserted and Dean doesn’t bother to call out or ring the bell on the counter. Instead he just goes behind it and checks the guest register. Samuel Savini and Castiel Weber, Room 14. Dean runs his hand over the names and then turns to help himself to the room key.
That’s when he sees him. The motel clerk standing in the door way and Dean’s all ready to feed him a line about why he’s on the wrong side of the counter when the guy lunges at him. Hands like claws grabbing at his arm and shirt with his mouth open. Dean falls backwards over the counter the cloying stench of decay hits him and he is surprised he didn’t smell the thing sooner.
There is a struggle. Dean’s not fighting well because of his ribs and the shock, his brain refusing to kick into survival mode. Dean’s got a hand under its jaw holding it out of reach as it snaps and claws at him.
Dean scrabbles reaching out for something to brain the guy with. His hand lands on the reception phone and Dean brings it up, slams it into the clerk’s head. There is a snap and the guy’s head lolls to the side. Not that it seems to deter him in anyway from trying to bite Dean. But Dean is up and off the counter grabbing the fire extinguisher from the wall and braining the guy with it over and over again till he stops moving.
Dean stares at the still form, still holding the fire extinguisher over his head as he tries to get his breathing back under control and wincing each time his chest expands enough to hurt. His eyes wide and his heart racing as it occurs to him just how fucked up this is.
This had to be an angel thing. Dean’s mind still recalling how eerily familiar to Zachariah’s future trip this all was. Only this time it was like being in a Romero zombie film instead of being attacked by the Croatoan’s. Dean kicks the Clerk in the guts to make sure he is down for the count. This was an honest to god zombie.
Dean glances around making sure there aren’t more of them before he kneels down and pokes the guy. Even before he had caved it’s head in with the fire extinguisher the guy had been covered in blood. Dean was betting not all of it had been the clerks. Especially the stuff smeared around its mouth. There had been a gaping wound in the guy’s throat which was obviously where he had been bitten.
This guy flew in the face of all that Dean knew about actual zombies. Not that he had silver to pin it into its coffin anyway. But this thing, that appeared to eat human flesh and only stopped when you caved its head in. That was just all kinds of wrong.
“Not funny, you son of a bitch.” Dean curses loudly at the sky hoping Zachariah or Raphael, which ever of those junkless dicks had done this heard him. He was sick of being manipulated.
When Dean is certain the guy isn’t going to get up again, he stands. Keeping his eyes on the body anxiously, Dean grabs all of the room keys and heads out the door.
Room 14 was empty. Dean had kind of hoped, but it made sense, this place wasn’t exactly the best location to hole up against what ever the fuck had happened while Dean had been unconscious. There is no note, nothing. Like always there is no trace there was ever a Winchester staying in the room at all.
Dean tries the other rooms, careful that there isn’t another of those things locked in any of them. A few are empty but a few contain discarded suitcases and other personal effects. Dean wolfs down a bag of chips and then collects up all the food and drink from the mini bars.
Dean hesitated, shining the light of the flashlight in all three directions again before his curiosity got the better of him. He made his way, tip toeing toward the double doors at the end of the shadow filled corridor. There were smears of blood on the wall and the occasional bloody hand print. When he reached the doors they’re shut, secured with a piece of broken broom handle slid between the two handles.
He put his hand on both the loops of metal, sticking the flashlight in his mouth and holding them together while he used the other hand to pull the broom handle out. Taking the light out of his mouth Dean cautiously pushed one of doors open. There was a little light filtering in from the bay of windows on the far wall and the things that it illuminated… It was like stepping into the twilight zone.
There was blood. A lot of it. And about five people sitting amongst it. Dean’s mind reeled. These things had to be ghosts or something because there was no way living people could look like that.
One of them shifted and looked in his direction. An open wound in its cheek revealed a glimpse of yellowed teeth. There was blood smeared down the front of it, covering its mouth and hands.
Something was off about its eyes too, all blood shot and discolored. At first Dean thought the thing was sucking the blood from the fingers of its hands. But then he realized it was chewing at its own digits.
Dean stared at it waiting for that tell tale flicker that would tell him it was a ghost. Only it didn’t flicker. Instead it raised its head and moaned at him. A low noise that made the other four snap their heads in Dean’s direction.
This was bad. Dean had seen enough horror films to know that this could in no way be good
There is a split second where, when confronted by something that the human mind can’t comprehend; that thing in the dark that invokes something primordial deep inside. A moment where there is indecision on where to fight or flee.
Dean had that moment, only thanks to his years of training and hunting, it isn’t a moment of hesitation. His brain already assessing how to fight the things in front of him. Silver is the only thing he knows of and he doesn’t have any. Not salt, Not a gun. All he has is a flashlight and stupid broken broom handle.
The things were getting closer. Dean didn’t need to think about it, he reached out to pull the door shut when four blood stained and damaged fingers curled around the wood edge of the door. Pulling slightly as the thing stepped from behind it.
Dean had seen his fair share of scary dead things but this; its bottom jaw was missing. It’s tongue lolling down over the gaping hole of what was left of its throat. Viscera hung from it and if Dean had been unsure about the whole ‘these things are real’ thing he wasn’t anymore. Not when it reached out with its other bony hand and its fingers grasped at Dean’s wrist.
Dean back peddled expecting to feel nails rake down his skin but instead something slimy and wet smears itself across his hand. Dean feels ill as the things skin separates from its hand in globs of putrid muck.
By the time Dean leaves the hotel the sun is low in the sky and he has maybe two hours of light left. He’s got a plastic shopping bag full of food, drink and matches. Dean also has a plan, it’s not much but it’s a start.
He holes up for the night in an abandoned sports and camping store. Dean had past it on the way to the motel and seen that the door was wide open. He didn’t exactly hold out any hope of there being any weapons left in there but the windows and doors were reinforced and barred. Dean figured so long as there weren’t too many of those things inside he could barricade it.
There is a chewed on corpse on the floor just far enough back from the door that he couldn’t clearly see it from the street. It’s good because it means that the store at some point had zombies in it and it probably wasn’t looted. Dean hauls it outside and closes the door.
A half hour later the entire shop is searched and deemed clear. Dean barricades as much of the entries as he can. Taping blankets over the windows before he sets up and lights a camping stove.
Dean strips out of his scrubs and cleans himself in the staff toilet washing away the dried blood and filth. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror for long before dressing in clothes and shoes he has grabbed from the store. K rations and mini bar bottles of whiskey and Dean is settling down to sleep in camping gear.
It taken him what feels like forever skulking his way across the states. Hiding from those things and hoping to find someone who’s alive. He’s been following the i90 for a day when he comes across the Impala.
It’s fenced in by a blockade of ruined cars on the outskirts of some small town. His first thought is how good it is to see his car. The town is nothing but ramshackle and crumbling buildings. There is nothing but debris littering the street.
Slowly Dean approaches the car, pistol at the ready. Eyes scanning the streets for walkers while his brain tries not to think too hard about where Sam and Cas went. Or why they abandoned his baby.
When he is close enough Dean takes his other hand off his gun and runs it slowly over the rear fender. If any one had seen him they would have thought it was a lover’s caress.
“Hey baby, what did those mean undead do to you?”
Three more strides and he is at the drivers door. He’s still watching the buildings and streets. Listening for the tell tale moan of their approach.
He’s so busy keeping an eye on the empty street that when he opens the door he hadn’t seen the thing until it lunges at him from the driver’s seat.
It’s face is sallow and grey. Skin sagging where it’s torn and hanging from his face. Eyes a dull glassy grey color with flecks of red through them. Its hair hangs down shaggy and matted with dried blood and dirt. Blood drips from its mouth and coats its teeth.
“No! Oh god Sammy, no!”
Dean wrenches away from his grip and turns to run only Castiel is standing behind him. Fencing him in and keeping him from running. His trench coat is torn and bloody. Bone is visible through a gash in his chest where his shirt is torn open.
Dean feels his heart break as Cas’ mouth opens lips curling back to reveal dirty bloody teeth. He closes his hands on the lapels of Castiel's trench coat pushing him back. His eyes wide and his gut turning at the stench.
Hands close over his own shoulders and Dean is helpless to pull away as Sam's teeth sink into the flesh of his exposed throat. He lets go of Cas to tug and shove at Sam but it’s no good. Dean screams as Cas moves in closer to join in Sam's feast.
Dean feels much better with a gun in his hands. Other than the dream he hadn’t really slept except in fitful bursts, his hand on the knife under his pillow most of the night.
He is armed, packed and ready to put his plan into action before the sun rises. He has to wait till it’s light enough though so he can see them coming. Dean is silent and careful. It only takes him about two hours to siphon two jerry cans full of gas from the cars in the street.
He puts the gas and two large duffle’s full of supplies into the back of the only car he hadn’t siphoned from. Dean eases the door shut and glances around. He had been fairly quiet but there are still a few of those things, bodies decaying as they shamble toward him.
It takes under thirty seconds to hot wire the car. The engine sputters a few times before turning over and roaring to life. He hopes the things been regularly serviced because as he sits up he sees another of those things shamble from behind the building next to him and start lurching slowly toward him.
Its got almost a full tank and Dean is relieved as he shifts it into gear and makes his way through the town. His plan is to make his way to Bobby’s. It’s a two day drive away and Dean is figuring on taking the back roads if the major towns all look like this. He just hopes there are no Croat fences to get through.
The road is one long black line that stretches for miles in front of him. Reaching into the distance till it smudges into nothing where the horizon meets the most beautiful azure sky. The engine of the Impala purring as the tires eat up the distance with out getting any closer.
Dean’s alone, hand tapping on the wheel and elbow resting on the door as he drives. The sun is shining and it’s just the right amount of warm as the wind whistles through the open window. Travelling Riverside Blues is playing on the radio and Dean can’t help but think there is just one thing missing.
“Hello Dean.”
Dean turns to look and Castiel smiles a greeting from the passenger seat. Dean would never say it out loud but he is beginning to appreciate the way Castiel’s face lights up with that smile.
“Cas?” Dean flicks his eyes from Cas to the road and then finally back to Cas. “How the hell did you get here?”
Castiel stares out the front windscreen watching as the scenery changes. The brightness bleeding instantly from the sky until it’s no longer a bright summer sky but a clear dark blue night. Stars sparkle visibly from the firmament and the moon is a large grey and silver orb sitting unmoving just above the same horizon that they drive towards it.
Castiel’s eyes seem sad even though he is still smiling. “I was about to ask you that same question. As I believe this may be a dream.”
A dream. “huh?” Dean figured that made just about as much sense as the rest of the things that had happened to him lately. A frown creased Dean’s face. Dean only really had two kinds of dreams and unless Castiel started taking his clothes off or died then this one didn’t fit the bill for either.
“Which one of us is dreaming Cas.”
Castiel’s tie flaps in the breeze of the rolled down windows. “That certainly is an interesting question.” He grinned as he tugged open his tie
Dean glances at Cas. He’s no longer wearing his trench coat and suit. Instead he is dressed the same way Cas was the last time he had seen him for real. Faded denim tight round his thighs, one of Dean’s old Zeppelin shirts where the transfer is so faded you can’t even read it any more and the cuff of the collar is torn.
There was a spark of something inside Dean’s chest, just a whisper of something so sentimental that it almost ached. Dean raised a hand and reached out resting it on Cas’ shoulder. Dean brushed his thumb across Cas’ collarbone.
“I’m going to find you and Sammy, Cas.” Dean stated. So certain of it being a fact. “You know that right?” He smiled hoping that Cas had the same certain faith to know it was true.
Cas looked at him and returned the same warm smile. “I have faith that you will.”
Dean pulls up to a farm house. He had planned to drive straight through but the road is haphazardly clogged with abandoned cars and given the time it takes to shift them he doesn’t really want to have to do it in the dark. So before the sun gets too low in the sky he stops.
It’s pretty far back from the road and there are no cars out front even though he is kind of hoping there is some one alive inside. He even knocks on the door before he realizes that if any of those things are in there he just called them to dinner.
It’s silent though and Dean walks across the porch looking in the windows to see if he can see anything shambling around. Dean freezes at the third window. It’s a small sitting room with floral wallpaper and a matching lounge suite. It’s not that that stops him though.
Sitting in an armchair is a man. He’s slouched forward in such a way that what was left after the rifle fired has spilled out the large hole in his head and dribbled onto the floor. There is also a woman and a younger looking man on the couch opposite their brains painting the wall behind them.
Dean moves around to the back of the house finding an open window to shimmy through. Once he is sure the house is empty Dean throws blankets from a linen cupboard over the bodies and proceeds to search and barricade the house.
Hammering the last board across the window Dean rests his head against it. He never really was a praying man. Not even now that he knows god is out there and that he just doesn’t give a fuck. But he prays now. Prays that Sam and Cas are safe, that they’re not out there somewhere shambling with the other monsters.
He throws down a handful of Tylenol to drown out the droning ache of fatigue and broken ribs. Washes them down with more mini bar alcohol and chews down some jerky before curling up exhausted and trying to sleep.
part 2