#2016dean

Adam hated these excursions into the... well he guessed ghost towns was probably the most accurate, though admittedly a little morbid, term for them now. The thought of being so close to civilisation, however abandoned, set his teeth on edge because buildings, even these days, usually meant people and people usually meant enemies... and sometimes didn't mean people at all. The woods in that sense were actually safer. The lack of shelter out there generally drove most of the sane survivors away from that area, giving him a desperately needed advantage... but he couldn't stay out in the woods forever. Eventually a need for supplies always drove him back and nearly always into conflicts when it did...

Fuck!

Fuck this, fuck the apocalypse, and most important fuck the Winchesters!  This wouldn't be happening if those petulant fucking morons hadn't been born!  The angel blade was a great asset, yes, and her Hell hound was even better but when you had 15 plus Croats swinging at your ass left and right, you felt pretty fucking cold.

There was blood on her fucking leather jacket and she really, really liked this God damn jacket!  When she got her hands on Dean Winchester, he was going to fucking pay, first of all by finding her a new fucking coat!  This was ridiculous!  She was a demon in the Judeo-Christian apocalypse and the only thing that had happened since Lucifer rose was that she was getting shit on.  Lucifer didn't care, least of all about her.  He cared about destroying the God damn planet and all sustainable life.  Meg hated humans as much as the next guy but fuck!  They were useful sometimes!

The Croats were no match for Mjolnir who expertly tore their heads off without a second thought, but Meg wasn't doing so hot and she'd be the first to admit it.

They were coming at her from left and right, and for a split second she honestly wasn't sure she'd make it out of this alive, or at the very least in one piece.

John Winchester's Journal ~ COMPLETELY Handmade by 2016Dean 

There was a knock in his door and Dean jerked away from the  short nap he’d been taking, head resting against the surface of the table. The knock was closely followed by a shout from outside, one that instantly had Dean wide awake. He pushed the chair back and hurried over to the door, pulling it open. 

“What? What is going on?” he demanded.

For a moment, Eric felt awful for waking Dean up from the sleep he so seldom got, but this couldn't wait.  Eric had heard of Ruby, had heard from both the men that she was a bitch, heartless and soulless, the whole nine...  and if she wanted to be in this camp, then it would be up to Dean, not Eric.  

"I found a demon named Ruby about a mile outside of the western gates of the camp this morning.  I spoke with her, and she claims to know both you and Sam.  I took her to the decoy cabin and left her there to find you.  I gave her a ring, told her it helped me walk in the sun, as collateral, a promise to come back..."  Eric stopped speaking and looked Dean directly in the eye.  "This isn't my business...  which is why I left her there."

Dean inspects the split skin on his knuckle as he trudges back towards his cabin. His jaw is still throbbing but the pain is numbed a little by the feeling of satisfaction over finally having gotten to let out some frustration. Now, he is more than ready to lock himself in his cabin and possibly drink until he passes out. Dave is in charge for the night and Dean trusts him enough to manage on his own and not fuck up.

As he reaches the cabin, he finds a note on his door and he pulls it down to read it. It’s from Sam but not urgent and for a moment Dean thinks about ignoring it. If it’s not urgent they can talk tomorrow and the bottle in his cabin is really really tempting right now. But it’s Sam, so Dean puts the note in his pocket and turns around to stumble down the steps from the porch and head over to Sam’s cabin to knock on the door.

Pacing back and forth with a fussy baby isn't exactly the best way to spend a night.  Between crying and burping and spitting up (twice), Hanna's been restless for about an hour and Sam's just hoping that she'll snooze soon out of sheer exhaustion if nothing else.  Eric was out patrolling, Dean was out patrolling, Sam had done a once over on the vehicles in the compound with a baby slung over his chest (not the easiest thing in the world when little hands managed somehow to keep getting a death grip on his hair), and now he was left - literally - holding the baby.  There were worse things in the world.  Grizzly though she might be it was nice just to spend a bit of 'not-so-quiet' time on his own with her.  Without people from camp cooing and babbling at the little bundle... Which was a little weird.  They were all still wary of Sam, but Hanna was like some kind of people magnet.

The knock on the door has tiny blue orbs swivelling in their sockets and the bottle is spat unceremoniously out of her mouth as the distraction of noise proves more important to the infant than food right now.  A small babble and then a deep breath - a sure sign that wailing was on the way again.  Sam shifts Hanna in his arms, a little higher into the crook of one elbow and makes a few 'shushing' noises as he wanders over to tug it open.

"Dean!"  Sam's face splits easily into a smile at the sight of his brother, faltering only slightly as he takes a moment to soak up the details.  There's blood... Easy enough for Sam to smell.  Dirt, sweat, but definitely blood.  And even in the dull light, Sam can see the dishevelled appearance.  The slight darkening of skin on his face where bruises are flourishing - pretty fresh, but likely to darken into deep purples and blacks soon enough.

"Dude... You look like you've just gone ten rounds with Tyson.  You okay?"  No... he obviously wasn't.  Clearly hurt and pretty much dead on his feet, and Sam couldn't help the pang of guilt that Dean was still going out there on his own, or at least, with one or two of the others from camp.  But not with him... Never with him.  Never asking or even mentioning it, even after they'd sorted things out... Or... At least Sam had thought things were worked out between them... Now he wasn't so sure.  Stepping away from the door, Sam jerked his head into the cabin, "Come in and sit down before you fall down."  

Another babble from the bundle in his arms and the bottle was offered again, Sam saying a silent 'thank you' to any gods that might be listening as Hanna gave up on the new, and apparently boring noises, and went back to her food.  And any thoughts of the news he had to tell was quashed in the light of his brother's obvious predicament.  

"What the hell happened to you...?"

Claire glanced at the unknown figure in front of her. She couldn't quiet place her figure on it but he seemed familiar somehow. She didn't know why, he seemed years older then her. 

Claire moved her feet slightly, in case she needed to make a run for it. Anyone could be infected. 

❖ - "Dean's scary as fuck, but I can trust him. It's safe in the camp. Dean has a drinking habit, just like my dad. It's not a good thing."

♣ - "To try and impress or not to try and impress"