Chapter 1: Riding in Cars with Men

"How bad is it? Can you sew it up, Sammy?" asked a gravelly voice she didn't recognize.

Her eyes were closed but the world was still spinning behind her eyelids. Her head was pounding so badly that she couldn't even take stock of the other aches and pains in her body.

Suddenly Beth felt a hand on her leg. She kicked out fiercely on instinct and her foot connected with something hard. Her blue eyes opened and she tried to take in her surroundings while her vision swam. The last thing she remembered was being encircled by walkers on the road.

"Well, she's awake," came a muffled voice.

She was half-laying and half-sitting on a black leather seat in the back of a car. Two strange men were sitting in the front seat. One with dark blonde hair was driving and shooting glances at her in the rearview mirror. The other, with shaggy brown hair who had just spoken, was wiping blood from his lip where she had apparently just kicked him.

"It's okay. We're not going to hurt you. We just had to get you out of there," said the man she had kicked.

Neither of them had weapons in their hands, which was comforting. But when she reached for her weapons, and noticed that her knife and gun were both missing, Beth got worried again.

The man in the drivers seat saw her eye flicking around and spoke up, "Took your weapons for now, so you wouldn't stab one of us when you woke up. Looking at my brother's face makes me think it was a good decision."

One part of Beth felt really bad about kicking that man in the face but another part of her, one that couldn't stop thinking of the Governor, told her that she should reserve her judgments until she knew for sure who these men were. The last thing she remembered was waiting for Daryl on the dark road when walkers overwhelmed her. She must have been asleep for several hours since it was now daytime.

Daryl was nowhere to be seen now.

"Where is he?" was the first thing she asked, narrowing her eyes at the strangers.

The two men glanced at each other with furrowed brows. "Who?" asked the one she had kicked.

"Daryl. The man I was with on the street. Where is he?" Beth repeated, fighting the urge to shut her eyes to try to lessen her dizziness.

"Unless you named one of those croats that was trying to eat you, your friend wasn't there sweetheart," growled the short haired man as he swerved around several broken down cars in the road.

"What is a croat?"

"The zombies walking around trying to eat everything that moves, maybe you noticed them," the driver's voice was laced with sarcasm as he gestured out the window.

"Daryl isn't a walker. He was meeting me on the road, he was right behind me," Beth said, feeling slightly irritated at this stranger for treating her like an idiot while she was starting to panic about Daryl.

"I'm sorry but… there wasn't anyone else out there with you…" the man with long hair who she had kicked looked genuinely sorry to tell her that. "We just happened to be driving by and saw you running. You tripped, went down hard and hit your head on the pavement. The croats—uh walkers—" he switched to her term quickly, "surrounded you and were out cold. So we slashed some heads, got you in the car, and hightailed it out of there. There must have been at least 50 croats out there, probably more on the way. We didn't see anyone else."

Beth knew that Daryl would have berated her for trusting strangers so easily but it was hard not to trust this man with long brown hair so similar to Daryl's. She couldn't explain why she trusted him, other than the fact that he had kind eyes. Her daddy had always said that you could read people's souls through their eyes if you knew what to look for.

"We have to go back," she looked out the back window as if she expected see Daryl running right behind the moving car.

"There's nothing back there," insisted the driver darkly, pressing even harder on the gas.

"Daryl is back there. He would have survived, would have gotten out. He'll be lookin' for me," she pressed. There was no doubt in her mind that Daryl was still alive and that he would search for her.

"He's gone. We can't go back," the driver growled again.

The man in the passenger seat, now with a little bit of dried blood on his lip, said nothing but his brow was furrowed in concern.

"If you won't take me, I understand. Please just stop the car, give me my weapons back and tell me how long you have been driving," Beth begged. Her head was still whirling but she could try to find a working car and drive back slowly and carefully.

"You hit your head, hard, probably have a concussion. And you need stitches in that leg," the man she had kicked pointed one finger down at the calf he had been touching when she woke up. Beth just now noticed the blood-soaked towel lying on the floor beneath her leg and the rip in her jeans that were also stained red.

She folded forward and inspected the cut on her calf, suddenly worried that it might be a bite that she had gotten when she blacked out. It was just a gash and as she looked at it, she remembered tripping over a barbed wire fence as she was running away from the funeral home.

Old barbed wire, on the ground, in the zombie apocalypse. Great.

"Well, unless you've got a tetanus shot hidden up your sleeve, you won't be able to do anything for me that I can't do for myself," she said. Her cut was probably already infected but she knew enough from years of working beside her father to fix herself up.

She saw the driver's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at her words and he asked in disbelief, "Are you gonna stitch up your leg yourself?"

"I've stitched up worse on animals. So unless one of you is a doctor…" Beth matched his previous sarcasm as she leaned back along the seat again. Sitting hunched over her leg was making it feel like her brain was going to explode.

The two strange men looked at each other, half exasperated and half amused.

"Got an ID that says I am," the driver said under his breath to his brother with a small laugh, "But you want to do it yourself, I'm not going to stop you. Until then, wrap that leg back up so you don't bleed on my baby's seats."

"I'll do it for you, just lean back," said the other man. He leaned over the front seat and grabbed a clean towel from the floor of the car. Gently, he wrapped the towel around her calf and tied it off tightly to apply pressure. "We'll clean that out for you when we stop and then I can sew it up—or you can," he smiled and the action made his eyes crinkle.

"I can't wait for that, just let me out here. I have to go back for him," she knew she needed to go back but her head hurt even while she was lying down across the back seat. She had no idea if she would be able to walk on her own.

But she wouldn't just leave Daryl.

"We've already been driving for almost—" the driver glanced down at the clock on the dashboard before continuing, "—10 hours. At 70 miles per hour. Now math wasn't exactly my best subject but I don't think you want to walk that far on a bum leg with a head that probably feels like an elephant is tap dancing on it."

"We will stop soon and we can figure out something then," the man with the long hair assured her.

"Gotta be a motel in the next town," the driver nodded his head at one of the blue 'Lodging' highway signs that was still intact.

Beth wanted to argue more. Wanted to tell them to turn around now. But she knew arguing was useless right now since she couldn't exactly threaten these men without any weapons. So she slumped back on the seat and closed her eyes. She couldn't sleep in this car with two strange men but the blackness inside her eyelids felt much better than the blinding sunlight from outside.

She didn't think these strangers would hurt her but she thought of Andrea and suddenly got scared. Andrea had trusted the Governor, let her guard down and even slept with the man. However, he had been lying to her the entire time. Thinking of Andrea made her eyes pop open again. Tyreese had opened up to Beth one morning when they were doing laundry together, Judith napping in her makeshift crib nearby. Tyreese liked being around Judith and Beth always thought he had such a gentle soul despite his tough exterior. Tyreese needed to vent and Beth was a good listener… even when he described how they found Andrea and how the Governor had tortured and killed her.

Beth tried to convince herself that if these men wanted to hurt her they would have just let her die on the street or they would have her tied up in the trunk.

She wanted to trust people. To believe that people were good.

But there was a tiny seed of doubt in the back of her mind.

She realized she didn't even know their names and they hadn't bothered to ask for hers. Beth glanced over to where the two men sat silently in the front seat. The car was maneuvering through the cluttered streets of town now and Beth could hear music coming out of the car speakers at a very low volume. Somehow, that quiet, barely there sound of guitar comforted her.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Both men turned around looking a little surprised so she spoke louder the second time, "Thank you for saving my life back there. You could have just driven by and left me… so thanks."

The men looked at each other. The one with long hair smiled and the driver made some sort of appreciative face that somehow was a smile even though the corner of his lips turned down.

She took the brief moment to take in how clean they both looked. The men were fairly well shaven, their clothes were worn but not dirty, and the car was in perfect condition. They definitely did not live out of their car, they had a house or town or some sort of permanent place to live like she used to have at the prison. Beth realized that she had absolutely nothing right now—no spare clothes, no backpack, no food, no journal, and no weapons. Just the dirty, bloodied, ripped clothes on her back.

She sent a silent prayer up to her dad in heaven, something she had done a lot since fleeing the prison. She always prayed that her other friends and family members from the prison were safe. This time though, she added a prayer for herself too. She prayed that these men were good and that she would be safe with them until she got back to her family.

Satisfied that praying was all she could do in her situation right now, she tried to remember the southern manners her parents had taught her, "I'm Beth, by the way. Well, Elizabeth Greene, but no one ever calls me that."

The man in the passenger seat turned around to face her again as the car pulled into a hotel parking lot. "I'm Sam," he said with a smile.

She confidently held out her hand to him and his smile got bigger. The brother in the driver's seat snorted when he glanced at her outstretched hand in the rearview mirror. However, Sam stuck his huge hand over the seat and shook hers politely with a small chuckle, "It's… uh… nice to meet you Beth."

There were callouses on his hands that ran deep and she could feel that his grip was strong enough to snap her wrist in two if he wanted. It was obvious that he spent many years doing hard work with his hands.

The car jerked to a stop, Beth noticed that Sam's brother had pulled the car into a spot backwards so he could drive off quickly without needing to turn around. Without introducing himself, he opened the driver's side door with a loud creak and got out. Sam followed and Beth stumbled out of the backdoor on Sam's side. However, she moved too quickly and the entire world turned into a blur. Sam gripped her biceps and firmly held her to keep her from falling over. The driver spared one small look of panicked concern before his face turned back into an irritated mask when he saw she wasn't going to fall.

"You okay?" Sam asked her, lightening his grip on her arms.

Beth nodded up at the man who she now realized towered at least a foot over her and said, "Thanks" in a shy voice while trying not to blush.

The unnamed driver put his own hands on his back and she heard a loud crack as he popped his spine.

"You'll have to excuse my very rude brother," Sam announced in a louder voice that carried over the top of the car as he dropped his hands from her arm and let her stand on her own.

The brother with shorter, lighter hair rolled his eyes at Sam. But then he smiled with forced courtesy and said, "I'm Dean Winchester."

/

A/N: Hey lovely readers! Thanks for reading, please please please favorite, review and follow!

In true Supernatural spirit, all of the chapter titles will be references to movies/songs etc. If you get the reference please post a review so I know if people actually understand them!

I wasn't sure if people would like a cross over story but I have several chapters already written for this story so if people show interest I will post updates VERY quickly.

Couple of general things as part of the beginning of the story:

As stated in the summary, this story takes place after 4x13 in the TWD universe and around the beginning of season 8 SPN.

Why season 8? Just because that was what I was watching when this story popped into my head.

There will be explanations later on about HOW the apocalypse came about

Hope you liked this chapter and feel like everything was In Character (I wrote this before I saw SPN 8x12 "As time goes by" and I feel like Dean and Sam act JUST like this with Henry.)

This story will be rated M because of slow burn, eventual smut between Beth and one of our favorite brothers—which Winchester will just have to be a surprise that you discover as you go along.

If you read my other story "A New Normal" do not fear, I will keep writing that one too but this story was in my head and demanded that it get written so I couldn't resist.

If anyone is interested in being a beta, I would love you forever! I could really use someone with SPN knowledge to help bounce ideas off of.

As always: I don't own anything Supernatural or Walking Dead related, I am just a fan enjoying the gruesome worlds that Kripke and Kirkman created.

Reviews, favorites and follows make me happier than Dean when someone actually brings him pie.