STORY TITLE: Apocalypse Lullaby

CHAPTER TITLE: Beautiful Dawn

RATING: M to be safe

DISCLAIMER: I don't claim the rights to The Walking Dead. Also I've only seen the show so any inaccuracies in characters or locations are because of that. This is a work of fiction, none of the characters or locations depicted reflect anyone living or dead. Or undead. :P

SUMMARY: Sometimes the end of the world isn't the worst thing that can happen to a person.

WORDCOUNT: 433


"Any change, any loss, does not make us victims. Others can shake you, surprise you, disappoint you, but they can't prevent you from acting, from taking the situation you're presented with and moving on. No matter where you are in life, no matter what your situation, you can always do something. You always have a choice and the choice can be power."

- Blaine Lee

It was pretty amazing how far someone can actually get on a single gallon of gas. All the way to the abandoned gas station in the middle of nowhere. There'd even still been fuel in the pump when he'd tried it. If his luck held the way it was, he'd be able to get out of this Godforsaken heat trap called Georgia without much trouble.

Samhain Winchester was a smart guy. MENSA level IQ, several degrees in robotics engineering, a government security clearance that some people could only dream of. None of it mattered now though. He pushed a stray strand of dark hair out of his face, clear blue eyes watching the surroundings. A messenger bag hung at his hip as he entered the gas station for supplies. He wasn't expecting much, this wasn't a pharmacy or anything after all. Maybe there'd be asprin or bandages or something.

The place was pretty much untouched. Looted of perishables and beer obviously, but the locals seemed to have ignored the canned goods on the shelves. 'Good, more for me.' He thought as me moved down the aisles, putting things in his bag as he went. Might as well stock up while he was here. Never knew when supplies would run out, so it was best to be over prepared.

The bell above the door jangled, the noise jarring in the silence. He ducked down, one hand resting on the machete hanging on his hip. If it was a walker it was just the one. He could deal with that.

"Nice car out front."

"We don't need another car, Glenn."

"That is a mustang GT man. Of course we need it."

He made his way to the end of the aisle, listening to the movements, and then voices. Walkers didn't talk, that much was certain, but that didn't mean that survivors were any less of a potential threat. He glanced out the window, looking for others before he gave his position away. This was going to be an awkward encounter.

Not seeing anyone else, he smacked the blade of his machete against the shelf, and standing. One turned quickly, crossbow aimed at Sam over the shelves. "Who th'fuck're you?"