Chapter Text
It was never ending. No matter how long he ran and ran and ran, the only thing left remaining was to run some more. His body was operating solely on autopilot now. At some point in the past few [Hours? Minutes? Days? Weeks?] He must have made the unconscious decision to switch over. He barely felt it as one foot fell in front of the other. He didn’t think about it as he made a sharp, right pivot to avoid the oncoming wall of angry flesh. His chest no longer stung with every heaving intake of cold air. He just had to keep going. Keep going. Can’t stop. Keep going.
Somewhere in the back recesses of his mind, the echoes of footfalls on the damp pavement registered. One pair. Three pairs. Five pairs. He lost count as the sound began to reverberate off the walls of the alleyway, echoing louder and louder until he could no longer tell if he was being chased by the few or by the hundreds.
The end of the current path was quickly approaching, a giant wall of brick and stone beginning to loom above him. He spotted the small opening sitting to the right up ahead in the wall; a smaller, narrower, passageway. The decision to dive through it was made in between heartbeats.
While the sudden turn may have slightly halted those who followed behind him, it only encouraged those who lay ahead into action. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He picked up speed, managing to dash past those nearest before they had even acknowledged his presence. It was the few farthest up ahead that were the main obstacle. It felt like he was watching his own life play out through somebody else’s eyes. He recognized from a distance within his own mind as they turned their heads toward him, stumbling over themselves with how quickly they moved to stand up. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew his grip on the machete tightened as he continued on without pause. Two on the right and one on the left, approaching with barely any space between them in the narrow passage. One more stood farther up ahead, coming from near the mouth of the alley. He didn’t count how many were approaching from behind. He had passed them. They no longer mattered. They no longer existed.
His actions came before his brain even attempted to gather any thought process. Darting to the left, he dodged the small glass shard that was swung in his direction and swiftly plunged his weapon up through the soft flesh of the under chin. Using the momentum of the stabbing, he turned his victim’s body towards the right and shoved him harshly into the two remaining attackers that were crowding him. There was no time to finish them, he couldn’t even wait to see if he had successfully knocked them down, he yanked his weapon out as the body fell backwards and shoved himself through the small opening he’d created and bolted.
The opening was just up ahead. He just had to bypass the remaining one and reach the end of the alley. That was how his entire day had been spent, striving for one small goal after another. Just reach that car. Just make it to that building. Just don’t die on this street corner.
His attacker never slowed, just as he was never fazed by her approach. Luckily, his machete was longer than her kitchen knife and when they both swung out at each other simultaneously, he barely felt the small knick to his forearm, whereas her arm swung limply, half hanging from her shoulder as the gash was formed. He never stopped moving forward even as her howl of rage echoed behind him.
Finally, he breached the mouth of the alley. Cool air from the open lot hit his face and his eyes were momentarily blurred as they adjusted from the dark alleyways to the cast over open sky above. He didn’t stop. His steps never even faltered. Of course he didn’t stop. Open areas were bad news. He didn’t take in his surroundings; instead he focused his gaze on the street up ahead of him that lead out of the open lot and once again into the city’s maze of urban roads. In his peripheral vision he noticed movement from his right and left, Croats seemingly unmolding themselves from the walls themselves, one was even up ahead in the same road he was heading for, kneeling down in the middle of the street. It didn’t matter. They weren’t upon him. Not yet.
That was when he heard the gun shot.
It rang loud as day, nearly deafening in the aftermath of [hours, days, weeks?] of nothing but footfalls and angry growls. Somehow, it reached inside him and grazed the surface of whatever brain process he still possessed.
He stumbled.
It was as if a hole had been promptly punched through the calm that had claimed his mind. Noise swam up like rolling thunder and struck his eardrums. The sounds of those around him were suddenly alarmingly loud and he twisted around just as somebody snagged the edge of his thin jacket by his left wrist. He yanked his arm out of their grasp and nearly tripped as he lurched backwards and away. There was a small group congregating from all of those he had left in his wake. Those who had originated in the lot were now beginning to move faster into action.
That was when the second shot rang out, and before his eyes the same man who had managed to sneak up and grab him was torn down as the bullet slid through the bottom of his neck. The span of time between the first and second shot was probably only relatively a matter of seconds, but it felt like eons for his brain to catch up with this new turn of events.
Oh no. He turned his head to the left and let the recognition of the group of people wielding guns slide through his brain like water. It didn’t matter. They were just as dangerous. Possibly more. He wasted no time as the group of Croats in front of him began once again to move forward. He turned towards the original direction he was heading and made it a total of six feet before he was forced to once again stop.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Shit. Shit. Shit. His muscles locked up and he had to crouch low as his feet slid uneasily to a stop to keep his balance as an entire wave of Croats spilled out of the other end of the road he was running into. Once again, his actions preceded any thoughts as he apparently changed his mind and bolted straight for the group containing firepower. If this was it, if this was the end, then he’d much rather choose to be gunned down than to be cut down.
Once again all the surrounding noise seemed to dull in his ears as he took up a single-minded mentality; outrun the Croats. Make it to the group of uninfected. Whether he was met with firepower or he was allowed to run straight through didn’t matter, it was the only option left now. Distantly he realized that they were all standing on the opposite side of an open chain-linked gate. It was being held open and two of them waved with exaggerated arms above their heads.
Why? They were attracting even more of the Croats in the clearing towards them. There were a few running ahead of him, heading for the group just like he was, but they were being gunned down as they neared the opening. The gunshots dimly sounded like low drum beats in his ears now, the sound being drowned out by the rushing blood in his head. How long had he been running now? Did it even matter? The time it took to make it across the clearing felt both like years and the blink of an eye at the same time. He was only halfway through the gate when they began shoving it closed from both sides. These people just saved his life. They saved his life and he was grateful. But not grateful enough to stick around. That hadn’t ended so well the last time.
He was planning on running straight on through. Possibly throwing a glance backwards as he was on his way to show his gratitude. Then two men and a woman stepped in front of him and blocked his path. He would have veered right, but a blonde man was there too. For seemingly the hundredth time within ten minutes he was forced to a stop. It was unnerving after the last few hours to suddenly not be in motion. His head swam with the feeling. He turned and was met with more and more faces. This group was much larger than he had originally thought. Now he was met with a tall young man in front of him, hands thrown out in front of his body in caution, and who was inching closer and closer by the second. Several people stood behind him, the circle he suddenly found himself caught in, tightening by several feet every time he turned his head. He slowly raised his machete in warning. He was not going to go down without a fight.
It took way too long to realize that the mumbling washy sounds that were rumbling around him were words. That tall, young man closest to him was speaking to him. He wasn’t making any sense. Why was he murmuring? He couldn’t hear him. It took an unnatural amount of concentration to focus on the quiet words leaving the other mans mouth.
“…Okay. Can you…” The man stepped forwards again and was met with the further raising of his own weapon. Words drifted in and out as the blonde man from before stepped into view and put an arm on the young man’s shoulder, pulling him back. “…if you would just… we can…”
Black spots fell before his eyes and for a moment he thought it was snowing ash. Then the ground before him swayed slightly to the left before he could get his footing under him again. No. This wasn’t happening. This could not be happening right now. He felt himself gasp deeply twice for breath as panic gripped his sides. The blood rushing in his ears grew until it became overwhelming. It took over everything; the feeling of his feet on the ground, his grip on his weapon, it even began to overtake his eyes, as the edges of his vision grew black. Then the ground was rushing up to greet his face.
X
“I told you, it’s not working.”
“Yeah, and I told you that I’m going to fix it.”
“Dean, seriously, you’re never going to get it to-”
“Shut up, Sam.” Dean rolled his eyes, and with a bit more force than what was probably considered necessary, yanked a wire out from behind the radio of the jeep. It didn’t really help when a shock ran up to bite at his fingertips. He bit back a yelp and glared when Sam snorted behind him from outside the car. With a huff of frustration, Dean threw the wire back towards the dashboard and climbed back outside. Sam, chuck, and him were on car-guarding duty as the others raided the remains of the convenience store across the street and carried any goods they could find back to the two automobiles. He grabbed his semi-automatic rifle from where it was propped up and retook his position by Chuck.
The mission was moving along efficiently and the store was nearly done being cleared out. Only two Croatoans had been inside when they began the raid and for the most part, everything on this side of the border was going as smoothly as they could only ever hope it to be. It was almost unsettling. Two more Croats had wedged their way out from in between buildings over the past half hour and had easily been taken care of via crossbows. It was easy to spot them on this side of the fence where the buildings were more spaced out and there were fewer shadows to be concealed in.
“Maybe you should leave the tinkering for when we’re back in camp, boys.” Ellen reprimanded with a smirk as she passed between them with a small box full of canned soups.
“Yes, mam.” Dean mock saluted her with his own smirk pulling at his lips. Sam and Ellen both rolled their eyes and she continued on towards the back of the second car.
They stood around in relative silence, staying alert and keeping watch while another cool breeze blew in across the street. Dean shook off a shiver and pulled up the collar of his jacket. It was the beginning of October and already the chilled air was starting to seep into his bones. It was only another short minute later when a loud jingling started up from the fenced border, grabbing a large majority of the mission party’s attention. A large fat man of a Croat stood on the other side, both of his meaty fists wrapped around the chain links and violently set on shoving them back and forth as if he meant to simply force his way through them.
Normally they wouldn’t even bother. If there was a secure border separating them, then there was no need to waste energy unnecessarily. But the noise this one was creating was bound to attract the attention of others, and this close to the city, that was the last thing they wanted to happen. Dean nodded towards Sam and Chuck, who proceeded to move towards the unruly bastard. Dean followed slightly behind, remaining towards the center of where most of the party was transporting supplies back and forth but still in range of his brother and Chuck just in case.
He almost chuckled when he heard Sam quietly mutter “Not it.” And Chuck’s answering groan. With all the same manner of a teenager begrudgingly taking out the garbage, Chuck slid out a small spear-like dagger into his hand and thrust it into the Croat through the fence. It took two stabs, and another annoyed groan from Chuck, before it let go of its hold on the fence and fell away. Dean was already turning back to return to their previous position when he heard Sam ask, “Do you hear that?”
Dean turned back and tilted his head to better hear at the same time as Chuck nodded with a shrug. “Yeah.”
“What?” Apparently, he was standing too far away.
Chuck took a few steps back towards him and mumbled out, “Something’s getting chased down in there.” Sam stayed at the fence line, facing the City. Dean grimaced. He loathed the day that they ran out of stores to raid that sat outside the City limits. Inside was a whole different level of hell, one he did not want to see again soon. The high barrier fences that had been put in place still did their job for the most part, mostly because none of the Croats seemed to have any interest on climbing over unless they were provoked into wanting to.
“That’s sad.” Sam muttered from his spot.
“That’s life.” Dean nearly jumped when Alastair appeared right next to him with a smirk to match his drawl. Dean grimaced again and sidestepped away. Alastair noticed and rolled his head toward, mock pout in place. “Aw, Dean, You’ll hurt my feelings.”
“Dude, you fucking reek.” He hated this annoying beta prick.
Sam turned around with an annoyed glare; “You wouldn’t feel that way if it was some one you cared about in there.” At Alastair’s carefree shrug Sam only grew angrier. Dean inwardly groaned. This wasn’t going to go anywhere pleasant. “And it’s that kind of attitude that keeps getting more and more people killed. Maybe if you would just care a little more-!”
Dean knew where this was going and felt his blood start to simmer before he even heard the retort.
“Are you still going on about that Madison girl?” Alastair licked his lips and exaggeratedly rolled his head in a wide circle before he faced Sam again. “She’s dead. Get over it. The bitch should have ran faster.” He knew this was going to happen. He’d seen it coming since before they were even packing up the cars to head out this morning, he just wished they’d waited to do this until they were back home tonight.
Dean stepped between them before his brother could leap forward, but he couldn’t keep back his own venomous growl of “Shut the fuck up” that escaped. He could not help but slightly bask in the small smug feeling that crept up his spine when Alastair took a step back and reflexively swallowed. At the same time they could hear Ruby call out that this wasn’t “the time or the place.” And she was right. But that didn’t put aside the fact that that was so freaking uncalled for. Madison was still an open wound with Sammy. Both the Winchesters knew though that Dean wasn’t about to let his little brother start a fight with Alastair of all people, especially when they were right dab in the middle of enemy territory. Before Sam could even form a retort, an angry painful yell pierced through the relative silence that had been reigning from just inside the city. There was the first slight shock of it, and then it registered that it sounded pretty Croatoan. And it sounded pretty freaking close. They all turned toward the wide empty parking lot that sat directly in front of them on the other side of the fence.
Dean heard Alastair nearly chuckle out “and another one bites the dust” behind him, and saw Sam clench his fists in front of him. Normally Dean was the one with the short temper but even Sam had his breaking point, and Alastair had been pushing all the right buttons for the past two weeks. Only another short quiet moment passed before chaos broke out.
A man dashed out from the left side of the parking lot, from behind the first set of brick buildings that led into the City. He was quickly followed by two, four, five Croatoans that were trailing pretty closely behind. Croats were fast once they gained momentum. Many who had been nearly passively just existing along the sides of the buildings of the lot a few seconds ago, seemed to come alive with the excitement of a chase on their side of the border.
Dean let out a sympathetic low whistle, his hands gripping the gun in his hands a bit harder as his chest squeezed. There was no way that guy was going to be able to outrun them much longer.
Almost at the same time, Alastair actually barked out a laughing “The poor bastard!” It rang out behind him and Dean once again renewed his hate for the man who continued to mock those caught in these unfortunate, deadly situations.
What Dean was not expecting however, was his little brother to growl out a heated “You know what, fuck you.” Before raising his rifle, quickly taking aim, and firing.
That was when shit began to hit the proverbial fan.
Several shouts came from behind him, expressing their disbelief and anger, Dean watched, muscles locked in a moment of not knowing what to do, as the Croat second closest to the man fumbled as it was hit somewhere around the legs. At the same time he watched in dread as the man himself began to stumble forward and almost fell over before catching himself. It was almost in slow motion that he watched as the closer Croat manage to grab onto the man’s jacket and pull him around, while Dean’s brain instead raced into overdrive.
The worst of it was already done, wasn’t it? One shot fired and the deal is practically sealed. And this man probably could have had a few extra minutes to live, had he not have happened to of crossed this particular lot. Now they had two options; watch him get viciously killed in front of their eyes, or try and save him. There was only a long four-second interval to make the choice before Dean raised his own gun and fired as soon as the man had yanked himself out of the Croat’s reach. There wasn’t enough time to doubt his decision.
Dean looked behind him to shout out a quick “Oh, quit bitching and start moving!”
He knew most of them wouldn’t like the decision. But he also knew they would still follow it. There wasn’t enough time to debate. Amazingly, the words were barely out of his mouth when Jo ran forward with bolt cutters; Ellen wasn’t far behind with an extra chain and lock hanging off her shoulder. He looked past where Chuck was trying to help the women at the fence to see the man running off towards the right side of the lot again. What the hell did that idiot think he was doing?
Here they were, going out of their way to rescue a doomed man, and he was tossing it aside without a second glance? Dean shot the closest Croat approaching the fence as Jo and Chuck grabbed either side of the fence and pulled. A second later the man abruptly skidded to a halt, not even coming to a complete stop before he twisted and full out dive-sprinted towards where Dean and their entire party were standing. ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’
It would have been almost comical how quickly the man seemed to change his mind if it wasn’t for the fact that only a second later an entire fucking hoard of Croatoans spilled out onto the lot behind him. Son of a bitch.
This is why you never fire a gun when you’re right next to the city! He was so going to kick Sam’s ass after this.
Sam and Joe quit waving their arms once the man was heading back towards them and picked up their weapons. Gordon and Ruby joined Dean as they shot down the Croats that ran ahead of the man, aiming to get past the gate and at them. The brunette man was still a few feet away when Ruby shrieked out “Close it already!”
The man made it through just as the gate slammed closed and Ellen was already clicking a new heavy lock into place, Chuck and Jo still fired a few rounds to lessen the impact of the hoard shoving against the only barrier between them. The man ran up, and fuck him twelve ways to Sunday if he didn’t look like he wasn’t planning on slowing down. Gordon shouted for him to stop and believe it or not, Dean could swear that the man would have legged it right on past them if it wasn’t for Gordon, Alastair, and Ruby physically blocking off his path. He looked in Dean’s direction, eyes searching for a way out before he finally slowed down. No. There was no way this guy was going to walk out of here without even saying a fucking ‘Thank you.’
Sam, Chuck, Ellen, and Joe came up behind him, cutting off his chance at backtracking his ass out of here.
Dean’s sarcastic remark he had reserved for the guy was cut off when Sam stepped forward, hands facing outwards cautiously, and called out a loud, calming “Whoa, whoa, hey, It’s okay. You’re okay.” Dean frowned.
The man looked really shaken up. And Dean wasn’t so certain it was only in the ‘I-was-just-running-for-my-fucking-life’ shaken up. He was panting so harshly it made Dean’s lungs hurt. In fact, the longer Dean took in the appearance of the man they just saved, the more disheveled and distressed he appeared. His eyes were shifting nervously and he was trembling on the spot, his gaze landing on Dean’s brother longer and longer every time he glanced at him. Dean felt his mouth press into a firm line when the man raised his machete threateningly towards their group. It was an obviously defensive position, but Dean still gripped his gun tighter at his side. It would suck to have to kill the guy they just went through all that trouble for, but he would do it in the blink of an eye if he moved to try and hurt any single one of them.
“What the hell is his problem?” Ruby of course voiced aloud what everyone was thinking.
“What do you think?” Jo bit back from across the circle sarcastically. “You go try playing a game of tag in the city and see if you’re not freaked out afterwards.”
“Hey Hun, you gunna be okay there?” Ellen wearily called out and received no answer except for maybe even harsher panting.
Dean could barely make out Ruby’s reply over the sound if his ragged, hoarse breaths. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Something is wrong with him.”
Sam chimed in as he inched closer, “Would you two shut up? He obviously needs help.” Once again in a more calming but clear voice, “Hey, you’re safe. You are Okay. Can you hear me?”
The man showed no move of recognition and Gordon was the one to finally ask, “Do you think he’s infected?” Even as he asked it, Gordon was tightening his hold on the blade in his hand and inching closer behind him. Dean held his and slowly made his way over to his brother’s side as he looked him over.
There was definitely blood on several areas of him, and he was absolutely covered in dirt and sweat. There was no telling apart any old injuries from new from this distance and he was quivering nearly violently now as he unsteadily held his weapon out in front of him. The major question was, whose blood was covering him, and had any of it got in any wounds? They couldn’t afford to let him get the drop on them if he was somehow infected.
Jo spoke up, “No, you saw how he was running. They were chasing him!”
“He could still be in between.” Gordon returned.
Dean watched as the man raised his machete even closer to Sam, who was still just standing there. No way in hell was he letting this spooked animal of a man get any closer to his not-so-little brother. Dean reached forward, grabbed Sam by the shoulder, and hauled him back a step or two. Sam seemingly refused to give up on his quest to get through as he almost pleaded with the guy, “Listen, if you would just put your weapon down and let us check you, nothing bad has to happen. You’re hurt. We can help you.”
Even as Sam spoke the man stumbled to the left before standing straight again, panting gasps filling the air like a drowning man. He reached out with a shaking left hand and tried steading the machete in his right, but missed as it fell out of his grip. He stood there for a split moment, both hands slightly raised and shaking in the air before his eyes rolled back and his legs gave out on him, and he crumpled forward.
Out of instinct, Sam and Dean both reached forward to catch him, but with him veering towards the left, Dean barely managed to throw out a hand between the guy’s head and the pavement before he fell hard. “Shit!”
It was all a mix of shouting and orders soon after that. Some saying they should just leave him here, with others, especially Sam and Jo, vehemently disagreeing.
What really got things moving along was the ever growing pack of growling and raging Croatoans assembling only a good fifteen feet away at the fence. Many were even beginning to climb it and the last thing they needed was the barrier falling down on this side of town. What was finally decided, because ‘for god’s sake we wasted half of today’s ammo on the bastard’, was to bring him in one of the cars until they were a safe distance away.
Dean only felt a little bad when they zip tied his hands behind his back. He was unconscious, but this guy wasn’t exactly screaming ‘sane’ back there and they just couldn’t take the chance. Gordon and Dean sat in the back of the jeep with the man between them, head lying on the corner of one of Dean’s knees. Chuck took the driver’s seat and Sam rode passenger, with the other’s packing into the other car. Gordon asked if they should bag his head in case he woke up infected and tried biting, but instead Dean folded up the bag and set it between the guy’s head and his knee for extra padding. He was still breathing pretty harshly despite being knocked out; he didn’t need any more obstacles for his airways. Besides, he highly doubted this guy would be waking up any time soon.
It was about ten minutes later, when their hearts had stopped rushing and the adrenaline was beginning to die down that Dean, along with an irritated Gordon, began to carefully look the man over for open injuries. There were an uncomfortable amount of cuts and scratches for their liking. It was when Dean was warily lifting one side of his jacket and shirt up to get a look at his stomach that he suddenly smelt it, and it hit him like a brick to the face.
He knew that Gordon must have got a whiff of it too because he slumped back in his seat and let out a low whistle, “Well, hot damn.”
Sam twisted around in the front seat, looking between them curiously, “What?”
Dean looked at his brother with what he knew must’ve been shock written across his face before he glanced back down at the unconscious man in his arms. “He’s an Omega.”