Hi everybody! Welcome to my brand new crossover. I'm leaving the land or Harry Potter and Bleach and stepping foot into the wonderful world or Supernatural and The Walking Dead. Just some notes before you read, this is AU after Supernatural Season 3 (when Dean ended up killed by the Hellhound). And The Walking Dead we are in the second half of Season 5 (so after Deana is dead and the walkers invade Alexandria and the Wolves have been dealt with). Just thought I would clarify where we are to start. Anyway, I hope people check this out, I was tempted to put it in a main archive, but it is technically a crossover, so I hope people read it anyway. Please Favourite, Follow and Review, I love to hear from you and let me know what you think. Cheers! D.S x

This is a repost as I have had several reviews asking me to break up the big pieces of text. Hopefully this will help with reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or The Walking Dead. Any OC's are mine though.

Crossroads

Part 1

Dean woke up. He was surprised to wake up, last he remembered he was being ripped apart by a Hellhound. He shifted, it felt like he still had all four of his limbs, and if he was right his fingers and toes were all present and accounted for. It was also bright.

Dean sat up slowly, he was in some woods, or maybe a forest, not exactly the best place to wake up, but better than Hell that was for sure. Unless this is Hell, was the thought that ran across Dean's mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Hell couldn't be this quiet.

He turned to check himself, he was dressed in jeans, t shirt and a coat, all looking like they had seen better days. Something was jabbing into his hip and he looked to see his 48 and the demon killing knife tucked into his belt. Dean let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, it was long, almost like Sammy's. "What the hell?"

"Ah, you made it. That's a relief." Dean reacted instantly, years of honed instincts kicking in. He jumped to his feet, backing away, a hand already around the 48 and pointed out in front of him. Nothing was there.

"Where the hell are you?"

"So rude," the voice sounded like it was trying to hold in a laugh, that just pissed Dean off all the more. "After all I've done for you."

"What?!" A hand suddenly tugged on Dean's coat. The hunter held in a yelp of shock, spinning around only to be met with the smiling face of a ten year old girl, dressed in a blue princess dress. "What the hell?" The girl frowned down the barrel of the gun pointed in her face.

"Can you please not shove that in my face. It's annoying when ..." her words were cut off as Dean pulled the trigger, face set in a blank expression as blood sprayed on the grass surrounding them.

"Damn thing," Dean muttered, curling his lip at the splatters that had fallen on his jacket. He turned away and glanced around again, he was in a clearing of some sort. Signs of a camp set up near a tree were still visible, though it looked rather destroyed. "Where am I?"

"I was just about to tell you that when you kindly shot me in the face," Dean froze, slowly turning to see the girl, stood back up on her feet, brushing down the frilly blue dress, the puff sleeves now stained a purple colour. "Thanks for that by the way," she pouted.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed, the 48 up and ready again. "What are you?" The girl rose an eyebrow.

"Are we really going through all this again," she gestured at Dean, who didn't move. "You know that won't kill me, right?"

"Why?" she shrugged.

"How should I know."

"You're not a demon?" Dean asked and the girl did laugh then, a high giggle that really made her look like the ten year old she showed Dean.

"A Demon? Me? I would be offended if I didn't know you Dean Winchester."

"How do you know who I am?" Dean demanded.

"Oh how could I not," the girl said softly, eyes gleaming with a hunger that made Dean a little nervous. "The famous Dean Winchester, the hunter who made a deal with a demon to save his brother. I don't know if you know, but you're famous."

"Like I want to be famous with demons," the girl wagged a finger like a teacher reprimanding a naughty child.

"I told you, I'm not a demon."

"Then what are you?" The girl grinned and spread her arms wide, spinning in a circle.

"I'm the Gatekeeper." Dean frowned, the 48 not wavering as he listened closely.

"The Gatekeeper to what?"

"Why to reality, of course." Dean snorted.

"Reality? You mean like different dimensions?" The Gatekeeper smirked and nodded her head.

"Someone knows their stuff."

"I'm a hunter, it pays to know about the weird shit," Dean said dismissively. "But I've never heard of you before."

"Well you wouldn't have," the Gatekeeper shrugged. "I don't deal with the realities themselves, only the doorways to them."

"So you're like a crossroads demon, only with bigger crossroads," Dean puzzled out, brow knotting as his thoughts moved forward.

"Pretty much."

"Son of a bitch."

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad," the Gatekeeper smiled but Dean wasn't listening, too busy ranting to even keep the 48 up and pointed at her.

"This is just plain perfect. I die only to wake up with an interdimensional crossroads demon. Why couldn't I have just ended up in normal Hell like everyone else?"

"Oh you wouldn't want to go there," the Gatekeeper shook her head and shivered. "Awful place. Not much colour either, all black and red. I already had to get too close to fish you out."

"Wait, what?" Dean snapped back to the Gatekeeper, who had wrapped her arms around herself as she snarled.

"I ruined a nice dress there to. A pink number that took me ages to find, I hope you appreciate it."

"This isn't Hell?" Dean asked. The Gatekeeper looked at him and Dean could finally see the age behind the youth of the disguise.

"Of course not. Hell's not this quiet," Dean couldn't quiet take in the information. He had been so prepared to go to Hell, had been ready and willing, all for Sammy. But now, to find out he wasn't there, he never noticed how the weight of it had held him down.

"Then, where am I?"

"Another reality of course," the Gatekeeper said with such enthusiasm. Dean shot his eyes around the clearing again.

"Not much to look at."

"Oh, you'll find it's quiet a place once you get to know it. In fact, you'll be getting a good look at it right ... about ... now!" Suddenly the Gatekeeper was gone and Dean could do nothing but stare at the empty space.

"What? Hey! Where'd you ...?!" His shouts were cut off at the sound of feet stumbling through grass, then twigs being snapped in two as something came towards him. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, quickly stowing the 48 and hiding it beneath his coat. "Hey, sorry, but have you got a ..." Turning Dean didn't come face to face with a human being.

Well it probably once was a human being, but now it was decayed, with blood staining it's broken down body, guts hanging from the whole in it's stomach. Dean only had enough time to get his hands up to ward off the thing as it pounced on him. Jaws wide and snapping as it tried to bite his face off.

"Bastard!" Dean grunted, planting his feet to stop from falling. He wrestled with the thing, taking in the dead eyes and ... well it was dead, everything about it. Dean huffed as the thing kept up it's assault, bending forward he shoved the thing away from him.

It groaned and growled, stumbling to regain balance before coming at him again. Pulling free the demon killing knife, Dean moved with ease as he ducked aside and drove the knife into the things chest. Dean waited for the weight to fall on him as the thing lost it's strength, but it never happened, instead hands reached round to grab him. Dean pushed away, taking the knife with him as he watched wide eyed as the thing continued to snarl and turn to chase him.

"What the hell?" Dean mumbled to himself, eyes wide and a small shiver of fear running down his spine. Dean watched as the thing came at him again, he easily dodged aside and it rushed passed him, legs not really able to deal with the abrupt change in direction. Dean sighed and moved up behind, slamming the demon knife into the back of the head, breaking through the bone and into the brain. The thing fell to the ground unmoving.

"Oh, well done, you figured that out faster than most," Dean glanced to the left to see the Gatekeeper. She was leaned up against a tree, a smile stretching her lips as she clapped her hands. "Most tend to feel squeamish about going for the brain."

"What is a zombie doing here?" Dean asked. The Gatekeeper tilted her head.

"Zombie? Oh yes, that's right, in your reality you have those cheap movies about stuff like this. The dead coming back to life to eat the flesh of the living," the Gatekeeper thought a moment then shrugged. "That's happened for real here."

"What do you mean?"

"This is another reality Dean, anything can happen. The Nazis can win World War Two, no one discovered electricity, the zombie apocalypse happened. Places in time where different decisions were made, the very fabric of reality." Dean let out a frustrated breath, turning his attention fully to the Gatekeeper. He crossed to her, fingers gripping the front of her dress and physically lifting the girl from the ground.

"Oh, hey now, I know I'm really old but I look like a ten year old girl. Don't you think your being a little too rough?"

"Explain," Dean said, the command clearly audible. The Gatekeeper stopped her chatter and stared at the hunter with shining eyes.

"Oh yes, I can see why they're scared of you," Dean lifted the knife, bringing it up close to the Gatekeeper's throat. "Ok, ok," the Gatekeeper raised her hands in surrender. "I brought you here."

"Why?" The Gatekeeper shrugged.

"Do I need a reason?" Dean just looked at her and the Gatekeeper sighed. "I thought you were needed here."

"And I wasn't in my own reality?"

"You died in your own reality," the Gatekeeper shot back and Dean couldn't help but wince. "You were of no more use there, I thought I could at least use you when no one else could. Plus you got out of Hell for free." Dean and the Gatekeeper stayed locked in that moment until finally Dean released his grip, so the Gatekeeper dropped to the floor.

"If this is another reality, then isn't there already a Dean Winchester here?" Dean said.

"Well yes, there was," the Gatekeeper huffed, playing with the neck of her dress to pull it down and back into place. "He unfortunately met a bad end," she nodded her head at the remains of the camp site and Dean felt a cold sweat drip down his back.

"I'm dead here?"

"No, the Dean Winchester that was born into this reality died. At the exact same time as when you kindly allowed yourself to be ripped apart by Hellhounds. Do you know how crucial that is?" the Gatekeeper said with an annoyed air.

"Why is that important?" Dean grunted and the Gatekeeper smacked a hand over her face in despair.

"Realities rarely match up births and deaths, sure you may be born, to the same parents and in the same family, but not usually at the same time. You're older than your counter part here, for example."

"Say what?" Dean gaped. The Gatekeeper sighed and waved a hand, conjuring a small compact mirror and handing it over to Dean. The hunter snatched it, but could only stare when he caught a look at his reflection.

"I ... I look ... son of a bitch."

"You're twenty one in this reality. Stuff happened with John and Mary and ... well, you were born later."

"Jesus Christ," Dean twisted his head to get a good look at himself. The lines that had marred his face were gone, replaced with smoother skin, though pinched and sweaty. His hair was longer too, Sammy would laugh his ass off when he got a good look at him.

"Sammy," Dean suddenly realised, snapping the mirror shut and shoving it back into the Gatekeeper's fingers "Sammy! Where's Sam?" Dean asked, beating himself internally for not asking sooner. The Gatekeeper looked unsure for a moment, twiddling the mirror in her fingers before banishing it. Dean did not like her hesitance and the panic that had settled in his gut changed to dread.

"He's not here," the Gatekeeper gritted out. Dean was not satisfied.

"Where is he then? If I'm twenty one again, he has to be in his teens at least. Come on, stop stalling and tell me where by brother ..."

"Sam Winchester never made it passed six months of life," the Gatekeeper said it quietly, without any hint of the usual enthusiasm that laced her tone. Dean choked, not able to fully process what she was saying.

"What?"

"He's dead here Dean, has been for a long time," the Gatekeeper lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry." Dean said nothing, his legs went beneath him and he sat in the grass. "Remember though, this isn't your Sam, your Sam's fine. Alive and well from what I can see. This one here doesn't matter."

"He's still my brother," Dean spat, furious eyes boring into the Gatekeeper who shivered. "Another reality or not, he's still my brother." The Gatekeeper didn't speak, leaving the hunter to his thoughts, not willing to break the atmosphere that had fallen over the two. "Why am I not in Hell?" Dean finally asked. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because I think you can do some good here," the Gatekeeper said. "With your skills and knowledge, you could really help the humans of this world turn things around."

"Thought you didn't interfere."

"I don't, but this is different," the Gatekeeper ran a hand through her hair, huffing in annoyance. "This reality could collapse."

"How can a reality collapse, it's reality."

"Worlds need life," the Gatekeeper explained. "Energy to keep it going, the clock ticking and the world spinning. If things keep going as they are, this reality will have no life left in it in a few years and that's not good." Dean frowned.

"Why?"

"The universe needs to stay in balance. Sure, you may deal with good and evil, but here it's all about balance. Light cannot become stronger than dark, nor the other way around, otherwise things tail spin." Dean watched the Gatekeeper, eyes judging what she said.

"Say I believe that. What will happened?" The Gatekeeper gave Dean a stern look, then folded her arms across her chest.

"The influence will spread. Realities will start to implode on themselves, wiping out all life and eventually," she shook her head, biting her lip and Dean thought he saw a shiver of fear run through her. "Reality will no longer exist." Dean gaped, not able to fully process what he had been told.

"You got to be shitting me?"

"I wish I was, but I'm not. This is why I need you Dean Winchester. I need you to save the world." Dean just sat there, staring up at the little girl who had told him something that usually came up as a line in the cheesiest film flicks.

"What's in it for me?" The Gatekeeper raised an eyebrow.

"You want to do a deal over this?" Dean shrugged.

"Hey, can you blame me, you're practically asking me to die here, again. And aren't you kind of a crossroads demon, deals are your thing, right?"

"Well, I guess. But a deal, never thought a man who fought the good fight would want a reward," the Gatekeeper mused.

"Death changes a man," Dean said and the Gatekeeper laughed.

"Very true. Fine then, my offer. You help set this world to rights and I'll send you back to your own reality. Not dead, no strings attached, you'll be alive and kicking once again." Dean blinked, looking up at the Gatekeeper with incomprehension. "What, not happy with that? Anything else you want added because I'm telling you now that's the best I can do. I may be the Gatekeeper but I can't work miracles. Oi!" Dean had shot up from the ground, snatching the girls small hand and pulling her into a large embrace.

"Deal," he muttered, all the while hiding tears that threatened to fall down his face. "I'll take that deal."

"Yes well, you could have just said that," the Gatekeeper wiggled, trying her best to get away from the hunter. Dean let her go and smiled for the first time in what felt like forever as he caught sight of her blush.

"Ah, didn't know you liked me that much."

"Don't act so smug Dean Winchester," the Gatekeeper huffed. "I'm only doing this because of what's a stake. I can alter this deal if I feel like it, you only got added extras because I was feeling generous."

"Yeah, my 48 and the demon knife," Dean patted his belt where the two lay. "Thanks for that."

"They're all I'm giving you. You're on your own for the rest."

"What, you're not going to give me a clue on how to fix this mess?" Dean pointed at the dead zombie, the Gatekeeper just shrugged.

"I don't know what to do. Why do you think I brought you here? Good luck. Don't get bit and don't die. You come back as one of them either way."

"Wait, where the hell am I? How do I get out of these woods?" Dean asked. The gatekeeper smirked and lifted a hand to point south.

"Head that way, you'll find something if you keep going. I expect some results soon Dean Winchester." And with that she was gone, the world looking as though she had never been there and Dean Winchester was left alone in a clearing.

"Great, just great," Dean said as he glanced up at the sky then back at the zombie on the ground. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Dean had ended up walking, through the rest of the day, following the direction the Gatekeeper had pointed in that would supposedly lead him to something, until finally he allowed himself to camp. Not that it was much of a camp, Dean climbed a tree, not wanting to stick to the grass floor in case a zombie decided to come calling. That still kind of creeped him out, zombies was one of the many things he had not thought he would be dealing with. Summoned dead people and spirits, yeah, but brain eating dead people, no way.

Sighing, the hunter looked out onto the sky, darkening to a royal blue as the last of the sun disappeared from the earth. Dean tucked his legs in tight, not daring to let them dangle as he normally would, he didn't trust for something not to grab them in the night.

Wrapping his arms around himself Dean tried to sink further into his coat to keep off the chill that was creeping up around him. He didn't hold out much hope that he would be warm, but he could maybe ignore the cold if he managed to drop off. Dean closed his eyes, trying his best to will his tired body to sleep, but he was not that lucky.

The Gatekeeper's words were on his mind, not allowing him any rest. At least it's better than Hell, Dean tried to think optimistically, but even that couldn't shake off the grief that came when he thought about Sammy.

It was strange that he would grieve for a person he didn't even know. That even the Dean he was now replacing didn't know. But Sammy was still his brother, even if they were raised together, like in his own reality, or here after dying so young, they were still brothers.

Dean sighed and shook his head, it would do no good thinking like that, not if he wanted to get back to a Sammy that needed him. The Gatekeeper's deal was one that he would have been stupid not to take. A chance to return to his brother, fight the good fight with no strings attached.

Well there was the string of stopping the apocalypse here and saving all of reality but he was a Winchester, that was all part of the family business. The shuffling of feet through dirt came to Dean's ear, he twisted and glanced down to see a shadow moving through the trees below. Dean held tight in his position, not wanting to draw attention to himself. If it was a zombie, tackling it in the dark would not be a smart move. And if it were human, well tackling one at all would be bad, just plain bad.

Dean watched, until it fell silent again. Leaning back he closed his eyes. He was rather surprised that when he next opened them sunlight was smacking him in the face and blinding him briefly. Dean groaned and cracked his back, sleeping in a tree was not fun. Not wasting time he jumped down from his perch, taking a quick glance around before checking that his 48 and demon knife were safely stowed at his belt. Then he walked.

Dean travelled quickly, he was not one for the woods but hunting had made being able to get about in rough terrain a nesseccary skill. As the sun ascended Dean's mouth started to feel dry and his stomach gave a pained lurch, he needed to eat. Ignoring it as best he could Dean kept walking, keeping an ear out for anything that could lead to trouble. Finally the trees started to thin and Dean emerged at the edge of the forest, which dropped down sharply in a grassy slope, revealing a small town.

"That's something," Dean muttered, internally thanking the Gatekeeper for at least not allowing him to starve to death. The hunter made quick progress down the hill and was all to soon walking up the deserted main street.

"Bit creepy," Dean commented, liking how his voice filled the silence. He was so used to seeing towns and cities, full to overflowing with people. This ghost town set his teeth on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck rise and his hunter instincts react, building up the tension.

Dean came upon a store, he paused by the door, pulling out the demon knife, not wanting to waste what little ammo he had. He pushed the door open and peeked inside. It seemed quite, Dean went in, feet swiftly moving him down the shelves, on the hunt for what food he could get.

Dean was not so lucky, the place was pretty much destroyed, the shelves knocked clean from brackets and even the cash register in pieces on the floor. He did a quick scout but found nothing, though there was a door that probably went to the back. Dean steeled himself, nudging it open with his foot, demon knife held high.

A stair case greeted him, checking behind him first, Dean carefully went up them, they lead him to another door, which when he tried the handle was locked. Unsure Dean stood still and listened, he couldn't hear anything, no groans or moans or the sound of shuffling feet.

"Fuck it," Dean mumbled and rammed his shoulder into the door, the wood creaked and the thud seemed to echo in the silence. But Dean kept going, it took four hits for the thing to cave and Dean had to react quickly as dead hands reached up to grip his shoulders, a mouth open as a zombie tried to latch on to any flesh it could find.

"God damn it!" Dean cursed, pushing the zombie away from him before finishing it with a blade to the brain. The zombie, an old woman Dean could barely make out beneath the ratty hair and peeling skin, fell to the floor unmoving. Dean took a breath and listened, nothing else came. He grunted and checked where he found himself.

It was a small apartment, a lumpy sofa and TV with blankets thrown about. A kitchen was huddled in one corner, and two doors which probably led to a toilet and bedroom. Dean stepped over the zombie and headed straight into the kitchen, pulling out the draws and cupboard doors.

"Score," Dean muttered as he found some cans, there were quiet a few stashed through out the kitchen. Dean piled what he got on the counter, then dashed back to the living room, finally after some rummaging he found a rucksack. Dean rushed back to the kitchen and filled the rucksack with his goods.

Shouldering it Dean checked the other two doors. The toilet was empty, but there was a few over the counter drugs in the cabinet. Adding them to the rucksack he checked the bedroom. Opening the door Dean could only stare at the zombie tied to the chair.

"Great," Dean said, walking passed the zombie and to the wardrobe. The thing snarled at him leaning forward to follow him with eyes that were milk like in colour. Dean checked the clothes, there was a few jeans and some thick boots, but as he went through the underwear he wasn't surprised to find a gun wrapped up in some socks.

"Sneaky bastard," Dean shot a look at the zombie who just moaned at him. Dean stuffed it on to his belt, opposite the 48 and demon knife. He was lucky enough to find a bit of ammo which went into the rucksack. Turning back to the zombie Dean just looked at it. It didn't look as though it had been chewed on, there was no blood or guts hanging out, though the skin looked sallow and thin. "Now what to do about you?"

"I would appreciate something quick, and not messy, I arbore mess." Dean jumped spinning round to see the spirit of the zombie that was still thrashing in the chair.

"Fucking ghost!" Dean groped for the rucksack, the spirit gaped at the hunter, surprised at the reaction to his voice.

"You can see me?" he asked.

"Yeah, what do you want?" Dean said, all the while pulling the rucksack round to start to look through his loot, he was sure he found some salt.

"I ... I'm not sure." Dean raised an eyebrow.

"You don't know?"

"Well I guess I wanted to stay with my wife," he nodded his head to the door to the living room. "God bless her. But even then she didn't outlive me by much. Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"Finishing her off," he said. "She couldn't do it to me you see. Just tied me to the chair after I died. Couldn't bring herself to do what had to be done." He shook his head, "I probably wouldn't have been able either." Dean watched the ghost, it seemed harmless enough.

"So, you moving on?"

"Would if I could," the ghost said with a shrug. "Having kind of an issue with it though." Dean grinned, swinging his rucksack back into place.

"Want some help?"

"You can help me move on?" the ghost sounded sceptical but Dean just airily waved his hand.

"I'm a hunter dude, all part of the job. You mind if I ...?" Dean nodded at the zombie and the spirit sighed.

"If you must, but make it quick." Dean didn't waste time, even as the spirit turned his back. Dean quickly finished it, then snapped the ties off and hefting the now dead zombie over his shoulder.

"You got any matches and gas?"

"There's some in the back of the store," the spirit said, following behind Dean as they moved out of the small apartment. "Oh dear god," he gasped as he caught sight of the zombie that used to be his wife laid on the floor. "I never looked at her after she died. I didn't want to see her like that."

"Better that way," Dean sympathised, he walked out of the apartment and back down to the shop, the ghost following a little behind. The spirit directed him to some keys, hidden beneath a loose board in the floor behind the register of the shop. Heading to the stock room, there was another door, it was full of mops and buckets but hidden near the back was an old box of matches and some gas.

"Come on, we'll do it outside." The two left the shop and stood out in the street. Tossing the body from his shoulder Dean ignored the wince from the spirit. "I'll have to salt and burn your bones, that will send you on."

"Great."

"Hey, don't go blaming me. If you had gone when you should have done you wouldn't have to do this."

"Fine, fine." Dean smirked, pulling out the salt from his rucksack, making sure to cover the body, he then stashed what was left and poured on the gas. Fingering the matches he turned to the spirit.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, I got time."

"How'd all this happen?" Dean waved a hand at the abandoned town. The spirit raised an eyebrow.

"You miss it or something?"

"Just wondered if you heard anything different?" Dean lied easily. The spirit shrugged.

"Just started with stories on the news. In the big cities mostly. We ignored it, a back water town like this, no way was it going to effect us." The spirit snorted shaking his head. "The first to get sick didn't last long, coughs and that, thought it was a cold. Then when they didn't stay dead," the spirit shook his head. "We didn't last long after that." Dean listened and held in his snort of annoyance, not much concreate information, maybe it would be best to head for a city, see what he could dig up himself.

"What's the nearest city?"

"Probably Atlanta."

"Right, so any last words?" Dean asked and the spirit shook his head.

"Nah, just get it over with, I want to see Claire." Dean nodded, getting a match and swiping it so the flame sparked to life. He glanced at the spirit then dropped the match onto the corpse which lit up in flames. "Thank you," the spirit said as he disappeared from sight.

"You're welcome."

"P...put you're hands up!" Dean managed to hold in a flinch at the sound of the voice. He inwardly cursed his own distraction, he'd never even heard anyone else. "O...oi!" Sighing Dean did as directed, though he kept the matches in his hand. "T...turn a...around!" Dean spun in a slow half circle, once facing his attacker his lip curled.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, kid?" Dean asked, which only earned him a glare from the small boy who was pointing the gun at the hunter's head. He was a tiny thing, thin, with blonde hair a mess and clothes that looked baggy coving his frame. The gun looked huge in his hands, it was shaking ever so slightly, but Dean was surprised to see the safety was off and the finger of the trigger was steady.

"G...give me you stuff!" the kid yelled.

"Why'd you want it?" Dean asked and the kid seemed shocked by the question.

"What'd you mean?"

"Why'd you want my stuff?" Dean asked again, though his feet inched forward, closer to the kid.

"I need it."

"So do I, don't your parents feed you?" the kid reeled back and suddenly Dean was faced with a furious child.

"Just give me you stuff!"

"Look I ..." Dean didn't get to finish however as something crashed into the back of his head. His world went spinning and the hunter was quick to fall to the ground, dirt stuffing up his nose as he couldn't stop his fall, his hands to busy clutching his head.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm sorry Finn."

"I don't give a shit that you're sorry. You were meant to shoot him when you got close enough, not talk to the bastard."

"But I didn't want ..." the yelp that cut off the words confirmed to Dean that the kid had been hit. His head throbbed, gritting his teeth Dean lifted it up, blinking his fuzzy eyes to try and see what was going on.

The blow was more than likely meant to knock him out, he was lucky it hadn't completely. He barely managed to make out the kid, now on the ground himself, with a dark shape looming over him. Suddenly the shape spun, quickly coming right at Dean, who ended up with a kick to the face for his trouble.

"Fucking brat, can't do nothing right. When we get back to the cabin, she'll have you."

"No, please!" was the final thing Dean head before he blacked out, body going limp on the ground, vulnerable. Heat washing over him was the first feeling Dean registered when he came round, it was followed quickly by pain though. The hunter laid there, trying to gather himself as his head continued to swim. What happened? Was his first thought, but it was quickly answered as memories came flooding back. Dean huffed, testing his limbs by moving his arms to push himself up.

"Damn brat," Dean spoke, voice a little slurred, as he got to his knees. He took a look around, the sky had gotten darker, making the shadows longer and shapes harder to make out. Dean's eyes travelled to the still burning body, though the flames had fallen to more of a smoulder, the remains of the shop keeper mostly turned to dust by the flames.

Moving on Dean took in what was around him, his rucksack of food was gone, which made him curse, that meant his ammo too. With that realisation however Dean startled. "No," he muttered, hands moving to his belt where he felt around for his gun and the demon killing knife. Both were missing.

"Shit," Dean cursed. Pitching himself up onto his feet, Dean's vision swam a little, but the hunter ignored it. His hands came up to check his face, it was bruised and the skin felt raw, finger tips found a bit of blood around the back, caked into his hair.

"Fuck," Dean mumbled, he was lucky he was even able to stay conscious as long as he had, a blow like that could have killed him. A moan came from somewhere to his left, the hunter tensed, eyes peering into the creeping darkness. He couldn't get caught out in the open now, with no gear he was a sitting duck.

Moving quickly Dean went back to the shop, disappearing inside and closing the door, it wasn't the best solution, but it was all he could do until he decided what the hell he was going to do. He needed to get the knife back, that was the first thing on his list, it killed demons and according to the Gatekeeper, shit like that was still knocking around in this world of horrors. But how to get it back? The bastard that had hit him had probably took it, and from what he remembered, he was working with the kid.

"Got to track 'em," Dean muttered to himself, but that was easier said then done. He glanced out of the shop window, it was getting steadily darker and Dean had no doubt that the dead were on the move, making it harder for Dean to move about. But the longer he waited the less chance he had of catching up to the kid and his friend.

"Make like Rambo then," Dean said, a plan, not a good plan, but it was the only one that would more than likely get his knife back, as long as he didn't die. Moving further into the shop, Dean went to the back, where the ghost had shown him the matches and gas. Mops, buckets and little odds and ends were all that remained there. Dean took a glance and shrugged.

"Make it work moment." He picked up a wooden handle mop, breaking the head off so all that remained was the long handle, once that was done Dean went on the hunt once more, ferreting around the few shelves.

"Bingo," Dean grinned as he came across a tool box, probably not having seen much action from the dust that covered the lid. Pulling it from the shelf Dean placed it on the floor, snapping the clasps that kept it closed and smirked at his haul. Good thick nails, a hammer and a parcel knife.

Reaching out Dean grabbed his mop, sitting crossed legged on the floor Dean placed the mop handle over his lap. Lining it up so the centre was in front of him, Dean tensed and quickly snapped the handle in two. Placing one half aside Dean picked up the hammer and a large nail, not caring how neat it was he started to hammer the nails into the exposed wood. Soon the end of the mop was covered in nails, part of the flat head still exposed.

Dean critically checked his work, "good enough," he dropped the hammer, placed his new weapon beside him and exchanged them from the second part of the wooden handle and the parcel knife. Carefully Dean carved the end of the wood into a point, trying to get it as sharp as possible.

Once satisfied Dean stood, picking up his improvised bludgeon and wooden knife. Both as long as his arm and decently thick, they should be good enough to kill him some zombies if he had to. Stashing the knife and hammer at his belt, just in case, Dean moved out of the back room, going up the stairs to the apartment, he passed the still prone form of the shopkeepers wife, moving onto the bedroom where he took two belts from the draw.

However he paused on closing it as something caught his eye. Reaching in Dean pulled out the silver ring. It wasn't big, but silver would come in handy if he had to face a creature. Pocketing it Dean strapped the belts over his chest, buckling them not to tight so that he could slide his bludgeon into the V they made on his back.

He kept his makeshift knife in his hand, better to have something in case shit hit the fan. Dean crossed to the window, the sky was gathering clouds, some blocking the sinking sun, making it darker.

"Can't move now," Dean muttered, annoyed that he would have to wait until daylight to see if he could track the kid down. Sighing Dean turned and sat against the wall, not wanting to take the bed, in case he had to get out quick. The hunter would have to hope he could find the kid in the daylight, the demon killing knife was to important to just give up on.

Dean didn't know when he fell asleep, but he did know when he heard the sound of a crash outside. Instantly the hunter awoke, body tensing, fingers gripping the make shift knife where they had loosened during sleep. Spinning Dean crouched low under the window, slowly he peeked over the top, peering down into the town below.

"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered as he stared at the kid. The little brat was stood out on the street, in the place where Dean had burned the shopkeepers body, the crash having come from when he had dropped a large rucksack, Dean's rucksack.

The hunter restrained his want to go down there and get the brat, demand from him where the hell he had taken his demon knife. Instead he watched as the kid looked around, mostly wondering why Dean wasn't laid dead somewhere, eaten by a zombie or something.

Finally the kid picked up the rucksack, staring at the brunt remains with a confused look, then he started to move back out into the town. Not wasting time Dean rushed out of the apartment and down into the shop. He carefully moved out into the town, finding the kid quickly Dean followed him.

He had half expected the kid to leave straight away, so he was surprised when he watched the kid expertly break open a window of a locked up shop and climb in. Dean stayed outside, ready to move in case he didn't come out the same why, but he needn't have worried.

The kid emerged once more, Dean's rucksack that he had placed on his back looking fuller. The kid moved on, Dean close behind, the hunter couldn't help but be impressed by how the kid picked through the town, picking locks on doors instead of breaking them down. After several more house breaking missions the kid finally turned and started to make his way out of town.

They moved up towards the trees Dean had come through when he had made his way here. The kid passed through them expertly, seeming to follow a path towards something. Dean tried not to let the kid get to far ahead, with the trees now surrounding them he didn't want to risk loosing him. The ground tilted beneath his feet as Dean trekked up a slope. Suddenly the kid vanished from his sight.

"Shit," Dean cursed, breaking into a run, as soon as he reached the apex of the hill however he pulled up short and dropped to the ground. The hill just gave way, dropping down harshly into a small crater, in which sat a rustic looking cabin.

It looked like a hunters cabin to Dean, probably placed in the crater to give it some protection from the harsh winter and any predators roaming the woods. Dean stilled as the kid came back into view, glancing around before opening the door and ducking inside the cabin.

"Gotcha," Dean smirked, he stood, moving around the lip of the crater and was quick to locate a piece of rope, secured in place with being tied to a near by tree, the end snaking down into the crater below. It didn't take long for the hunter to scale down it, once his feet hit the ground, Dean kept low and crossed to the cabin, heading for the open window instead of the door.

Coming up alongside it, Dean kept his back to the cabin wall and carefully peaked inside. It was dark, but Dean could make out the place was barren, broken pieces of furniture littered the floor, but one corner looked to be a nest of blankets of some sort. Suddenly something passed by the window.

Dean ducked low, but made sure he was still able to see. It was the kid. He crossed to the nest, tossing the rucksack down before seating himself. Small hands opened the top of the bag and quickly extracted a tin can. A knife was soon in the other hand, pulled from the nest, hidden most likely. With practised movements the kid soon had the can open and his fingers stuffing baked beans into his mouth.

Dean watched, not sure whether to make his move now that the kid was vulnerable, but something held him back, something didn't feel right, like he was missing something. A loud bang broke the silence, the kid jumped, startled so that he dropped the can.

Scrambling the kid stood, hands reaching down to pull something from the floor. Dean didn't expect a wooden trap door to come up, nor the frightened look that was on the kid's face as it flopped back down with a crack on the cabin floor, revealing a hole in the ground.

"Oi, help me here!" a familiar voice called. The kid, hesitated, Dean could see the fear etched into his face, but he still reached down into the hole. Dean didn't know what to think when the body of a dead man was pulled from the hole.

The kid somehow managed to haul the weight out, though he stumbled and fell when the legs met the wood of the cabin floor. Scrambling backwards the kid retreated to his nest and Dean saw another figure pull themselves up from the hole.

"Damn greedy bitch," Dean took in the young man, messy dark hair with stubble covering his chin. "We're almost out. Should have brought that guy back from yesterday," the man kicked the body away, snatching up the rucksack and dumping the stuff out onto the floor. "This all you got?" The kid nodded, which earned him with a face full of rucksack as the guy there it at him. "God damn it, I ask you to do one thing!"

"I'm sorry, the towns mostly cleared out," the kid tried to explain but the man wasn't listening, instead he bent down and picked up the kid by the back of his coat. He dragged him over to the still exposed hole. "No, no, please Finn!"

"You think I won't do it?" the guy, Finn said. "I need you to do one thing. Get food, keep me fed and you get a roof over your head, away from the geeks."

"I'll do better," the kid, wailing as Finn shook him.

"You're the one who wanted to let that guy go. You should have shot him when I wacked him, you made me leave him," Finn snarled. "I think it's time I remind you why you have to do as I say."

"No! Finn, please, don't make me go ..." the kid was cut off as he was dropped down the hole. Finn jumped down after him, leaving the cabin empty. Dean, from his place outside the window, paused before moving to the door. He pushed it open, hesitating before crossing the threshold.

He eyed the hole, it was quiet and dark, he wondered if the kid was ok, but he couldn't let his uneasiness distract him from his mission. The hunter assessed the room, moving to the mess from the remains of the rucksack. He checked the contents, no demon knife.

"Shit," Dean muttered, moving onto the kid's nest, shifting the blankets to search through the folds. He found no knife, but his fingers did close on a piece of crumpled paper. Dean pulled it free, eyes scanning it with a blank expression. It was then a scream suddenly erupted through the air.

The hunter spun, looking at the hole where the sound had come from. His hunter's instinct was screaming at him, to much from him to ignore this time. Diving down the hole, Dean landed heavily, dirt walls surrounded him, torches stuck into the mud, lighting up the tunnel going forward. Not pausing to second guess himself, Dean ran ahead, the torches lighting his way. He barrelled around a corner, only to pull up short as the tunnel opened out into a large cavern.

"What the fuck?!" a voice, that sounded like Finn yelled. "Who the fuck are you?!"

"Oh you brought me a live one, much better than the dead moving ones you thought I would enjoy." Dean stilled at the sickly sweet voice, body reacting after so many years of experience and training.

The cavern he found himself in was large, filled with furniture where the cabin above was barren. The torches lit up the space, revealing Finn, who was holding a still kid in his arms. Dean took a moment to check out the boy, his eyes were opened, but he didn't appear to be conscious. It was only the slow rise and fall of his chest the indicated to the hunter that the kid was even still alive.

But it was the woman that captured Dean's focus. A blonde haired beauty, dressed raggedly, but it didn't detract from the gorgeous figure she had. Her skin seemed to glow even in the low light, making her appear more angelical than human. But Dean knew that she was anything less like an angel, in fact he knew she wasn't even human.

With the slit like eyes, sharp teeth and flicking tongue between lips giving the hunter all the details he needed to pin point exactly what he was dealing with. Dean sighed, spinning his wooden knife in his hand as he shook his head.

"Damn, a Vetala. Great."

Please Read and Review X D.S X