Sorry for any confusion. I posted this story a while back and when I added Chapter 3 today I added it as a new story not a chapter. When I went in to delete it I deleted the original...so I had to go back and redo the whole thing. The first Chapter was originally a One Shot, but I think I know where this is going now!

Please review if you will. Reviews...like Castiel's cheeseburgers make me very happy!

Alone

When we went in through the front door of Lucifer's lair, I was aware that he had sent me to my death knowingly. I went anyway. After all it was my job to look after Dean. Now everyone was dead. Dean, Risa, and everyone else that arrived in Detroit that day ready for the final showdown…was dead…except me. I didn't see Dean die, so I wasn't sure how I knew, but deep down I was certain. I didn't even want to think about what Lucifer was planning at this point, but that same feel in my gut told me he was still alive and waking the earth. How I alone managed to survive was a mystery.

Why had Lucifer let me live? The Demon throng had wounded me several times. I remembered the first three… a tracer round that came from far away grazed my right side leaving a burnt and bloody trail across my ribs…a shotgun blast to my left knee shattered it, leaving me unable to do anything but lie on the ground and shoot back...the third a point blank 9mm to my chest. With the battle moving on they had left me for dead. I watched in horror as Risa was shot in the head and her body collapsed on top of me, then there was nothing but blackness.

It seemed like years ago, but somehow I survived. When I finally came to I was alone, surrounded by death. The 9mm blast had somehow missed any vital areas and had gone clean through me, lodging in the ground. At least it wasn't a hollow point. Now all I had to do was figure out how to get up and move. My knee looked like raw hamburger, but amazingly no major arteries were hit so I hadn't lost a great deal of blood. Apparently someone had come back to finish me since I had a second bullet hole in my chest. That one was still in there somewhere. I hoped it wouldn't do any further damage as I attempted to find my way home.

Where is home? Camp Chitaqua? No, that would not be home anymore. Everyone was dead. Using my arms to drag myself closer to the tree nearby I sat up and looked around. Dead bodies and ordnance littered the ground as far as the eye could see. The body nearest me was not someone from camp, just some poor soul that had been possessed by a demon or worse yet a Croat, I hated to defile him, but I needed a bandage to make a splint for my knee.

Amazingly no one had gone through my pockets, I suppose because they were all dead. I took out my pocket knife and proceeded to cut his shirt off. It was dirty, but it would have to do for now. I didn't see anything sturdy nearby that would support my knee. I grabbed the nearest gun, hoping it still had some ammo, and fired at the lowest limb. Dean taught me well, I thought as it crashed to the ground a little too close for comfort.

Somehow it managed to break into pieces I could use and I tore the shirt into strips and bound two pieces on either side of my now destroyed knee. I didn't see how it could support me, but I had to try. I got my right leg under me and slowly pushed myself up to a semi-standing position against the tree. My knee throbbed as gravity sent blood rushing to my lower extremities, but it was bearable. I pushed myself away from the tree and managed to stand.

The scene swam before my eyes as dizziness overtook me, and I had to lean back against the tree. As my body adjusted to being upright for the first time in…well I had no idea how much time had passed…I tried again. This time I managed to remain standing and took an experimental step. So far, so good. Now the mangled mess that used to be my knee quivered as I stiffly pulled it forward. The rush of pain was agonizing, but it supported me after a fashion. Wow, the human formerly known as a clueless Angel knows how to use an idiom, I thought idly.

I struggled, but made my way from the tree to a nearby wall and stopped to rest. It was a long way back to the vehicles we arrived in, but I knew that that was my only chance to get away from this dreadful place. I only hoped that the fuel had not been siphoned off, or worse yet they had been stripped.

It seemed to take days, when in actuality maybe an hour had passed, and I finally made it back to the vehicles. They were all there and intact, so my assumption that everyone was dead was more or less confirmed. I went to the Dodge truck that I had driven here with Past Dean in the passenger seat. Did he make it back? Of course he did you idiot, you were the one that rescued him from Zachariah.Getting in was difficult as I struggled to pull my battered leg into the cab. The bullet holes in my chest and burns on my ribs didn't make it any easier. It was a miracle I didn't have any infection. I sat there panting from my efforts and wanted so badly to just lie down on the seat and sleep, but I knew I had to get moving. The keys were still in my pocket. I turned the key and prayed…to whom I have no idea since my Father seemed to be long gone…and the engine roared to life.

Relief rushed through me as I saw the gas hand go up to half-way…that would get me home. Home? What are you thinking? You have no home. The road back to Camp Chituaqua was littered with debris, but thankfully none that I couldn't get around. I didn't have the strength to get out and move anything. I arrived at Camp Chitauqua as it was getting dark. As I suspected it was deserted. Before going to my cabin I stopped at the storage shed to see if there was anything left of our provisions. On the table inside was a note from Chuck.

To anyone that makes it back,

I have gone to see if there is anything left at home.
I took only what I needed. There should be enough
non-perishable food for a few people left, but no hygiene
supplies.

Hope at least a few of you made it back.

Chuck

"Bless Chuck and his obsession with hygiene supplies."

I jumped slightly as I heard my voice, realizing it was the first time I had spoken out loud. Since nothing was disturbed, I could only assume that I was correct in my assessment that everyone was dead. I gathered enough things to make my self something to eat for the night and left, working my way stiffly to my cabin.

"I'm gonna feel like shit warmed over in the morning." I said to the air. "Talking to yourself is supposed to be a sign of insanity isn't it, Cas?" Since there was no one to answer I said to myself, "I suppose one could argue that if there is no one else to talk to it would be allowed."

Just then a cat came out from behind my cabin and ran over to me. It didn't look rabid, just hungry, so I allowed it to follow me. The stairs looked insurmountable as tired as I was, so I sat down on the bottom step to rest. My bad leg stuck out awkwardly and was past the point that it hurt. It was just numb now. The cat wove its way in and out of my legs, purring loudly, and I stroked it absently.

"Well, at least I've got someone…errr…something to talk to now!"

Gathering my strength I took the stairs slowly, just wanting something to eat and my bed. As I entered my cabin I could see that I wasn't going to get either very soon. It looked like a tornado had hit it. The bed was overturned; mattress in the floor, and every book I owned had been striped from the bookcases. I could tell from the places that were disturbed that the local stoners had been looking for my stash, since what little I had of value was still there.

"They probably didn't find the good stuff" I said to the cat.

"Maraaawwww", said the cat as if it didn't care about my stash.

"You are correct of course, Cat. We both need something to eat."

I righted the small table in the corner, placing the provisions on it. Pulling my lighter from my pocket, I searched the floor for candles. I placed them around the room so we could see to eat. I looked at the cat and realized I was the only one that needed the candles and laughed at myself.

I sat down wearily and opened a can of spam and cut it up with my pocket knife, feeding the cat more than I ate myself. I could see its ribs in the candlelight. It had probably been forced to fend for itself for many months and definitely wasn't feral since it come up to me so readily.

"I wonder where your family is Cat?"

The cat just looked up at me with big green eyes and I winced thinking of eyes the exact same color…Dean's. I sighed, but knew there was nothing I could have done. He was intent on killing Lucifer even though he had no chance; he never intended to live either if he couldn't accomplish his mission. I sat there for a while and stared at the bed trying to figure out how I could right it, but I knew I didn't have the strength.

"At least the mattress is flat on the floor, Cat, let's get some sleep." I grabbed a blanket and sank onto it, and was asleep in the blink of an eye.

The next few days I rested, knowing that the only way I was going anywhere was to get my knee healed as much as possible. It was never going to be normal again, but I would have to work with what I had. The bullet holes didn't seem to require much thought as they healed nicely. I knew that one bullet was in my body somewhere, but I would worry about that later. The cat stuck around, keeping me company, and I was thankful for that. What if I never found anyone else? Had Lucifer laid waste the rest of the world now that there was no credible threat? I hadn't seen a living soul since Detroit and the batteries were dead in all the radios in camp, so I had no way of knowing. The radio in the truck yielded nothing but static.

I decided it was best not to think about it and spent some time each day gathering my meager possessions and packing them into the back of the truck. I didn't know where I was going yet, or what I was going to do with myself now that I no longer had a purpose in life, but I knew I had to get out of here and try. I found a walking stick in one of the other cabins and began to take short walks to build up the strength in my knee…well what was left of it anyway.

I limped badly, but the pain was less and less each day until it was bearable. What surprised me was that I didn't go running for my stash. I had been drug and alcohol free for the last week and I didn't crave them. I did pack them in the back of the truck, but my main thought for doing that was a financial one and not a personal one. If the world still existed outside this camp and money still meant anything I would need some. Dean's tools went in as well…I'd probably have to fix the truck at some point. Good thing I spent a few afternoons secretly watching Dean work on the Impala.

I grew bored of just existing and gassed up the truck with what was left in the camp for the broken generator and put the rest in the back of the truck. Not safe I knew, but I had no way of knowing what was out there. I was ready to get on with my life. I took one last look around the camp, my eyes coming to rest on the rusted hulk that was the Impala. I knew I had forgotten something.

I limped over to Dean's cabin and looked around to find his box of cassette tapes, knowing he would want those to survive. I looked out the door and the cat was waiting for me by the truck. It was time to go. I got in the truck and the cat hopped over my lap to sit in the passenger seat. Looking at the box of tapes I pulled out one that I knew Dean liked and snapped it into the cassette deck in the truck. I knew it was unusual for a truck of this vintage to have one, so Dean must have known something when he acquired this particular one and gave it to me.

Looking over at the cat I said, "We're off!" and turned the key in the ignition. The tape clicked to life and I smiled as I heard the words that came out of the speakers.

"Leaves are falling all around, It's time I was on my way.
Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay.
But now it's time for me to go. The autumn moon lights my way.
For now I smell the rain, and with it pain, and it's headed my way.
Sometimes I grow so tired, but I know I've got one thing I got to do..."