Right Place, Wrong Time

Lucas practically stumbled his way out of the bar room door. The fresh air and light rain did nothing to relieve the spinning ground and the more than slight queasiness that ten beers and half a bottle of Jaeger had brought on. He squinted in the dim neon light from the bar's sign and with a hand brushed back his damp bangs. Now, where in the hell did I park the frikkin' car?, he thought, one hand trying but not succeeding in reaching into his pocket for his keys. After several tries and a short rest against a street lamp, he had them. He smiled lazily and walked forward, immediately stumbled, and the keys flew out of his hand and skidded across the parking lot. Goddammit...

He looked around the empty lot and saw them glinting underneath an SUV parked against a fence near the rear of the lot. He started off unsteadily in that direction and stopped a few paces from the car when he thought he heard a groan coming from the bushes on the other side of the fence. ...the hell?, he frowned.

Lucas tried to be a good samaritan whenever he could, and tonight he was feeling particularly good due to the night's revelries. He had just got promoted to head of development for the new packaging line for his company. He had been fighting and clawing for a chance like this for years. Maybe, if things worked out, he could move things to the next level with Maria as well. He knew that she had been waiting patiently for the last year or so for him to pop the question. It was starting to look more and more like a reality now. He shook away his wandering thoughts and moved towards the fence, ignoring his keys. The rain had picked up and was running into his eyes. He ran a hand over his brow and flicked the water away. He saw that part of the fence had apparently been taken down rather haphazardly. Typical, though, it wasn't the nicest neighborhood in the world. He looked into the darkness and saw some broken posts and disturbed twigs. There was also something liquidy running into the small rain pools that had begun to form in the mud. Something kind of...red. He stared at it, not being able to figure out what it was when he heard the groan again coming from a bit deeper in the wooded area beyond the fence.

"Hello?", he called out hesitantly. The night went suddenly still. The rain was the only sound. Lucas figured his voice must have spooked the crickets , because they had stopped chirping.

There was a crack of a twig as something started moving in the woods. Lucas could make out a dark form moving slowly out from behind the trees towards him.

"Hey man, you OK?", he called out again, watching the slightly swaying figure take hesitant steps towards him. The person was moving awfully slowly and gently rocking from side to side, like they couldn't find their balance. There was another pained groan.

Lucas grinned. Some booze-hound had got it in his head to walk out of the bar and take a piss or something, he thought. Then ended up not finding his way back. Completely wasted.

"C'mon man, it's this way, lemme give ya a hand," he said, stepping over some of the debris from the broken fence and moving into the trees. The guy in the woods didn't reply, he just kept coming forward. Lucas held out his hand and glanced idly down at the pool of water he had been looking at before.

His eyes widened as he saw the intense red color of the pool up close. His eyes followed the line of the stream back into the hedges and, leaned up against some more posts, saw a crumbled body propped up on some branches and roots. His head was half-gone, the skull split wide open. Lucas felt a rush of horror and adrenaline as he saw the huge hole where the guy's brains should have been.

He looked quickly back up at the approaching form. His mind instantly recognized what he was looking at, but there was a serious disconnect with reality. In shock, he took in a big gulp of air. The man had one arm raised lazily into the air in front of him, reaching towards Lucas. His eyes were practically white and rolled back in his head, and his mouth hung open at a weird angle. His clothes and mouth were splattered with blood, and, Lucas realized with increasing horror, from his mouth hung bits of flesh and hair. Zombie, his mind stated and reeled, recognizing the rather stereotypical image in an instant from a million horror films he had seen. But this shit wasn't real...this shit only existed in movies and tv...zombie...ZOMBIE?

He made a quick decision, his mind working frantically now, the panic driving out the last of any buzz he had been feeling from his system. He turned and bolted into the parking lot, and had run about twenty yards before something clicked in his head and he skidded to a halt. He braced one arm on the ground and spun, racing back in the other direction. His keys. They were still under the other car. He scanned the area around the broken fence and realized with relief that the creature was not even close to it yet, it was still a good ten feet back and moving slowly. Well, at least the sonuvabitch is slow, he relaxed, jogging up to the SUV and kneeling down, grabbing at his keys. He figured he could get back to his car, and drive like hell down to the local police station, and then...he frowned. Yeah, that won't work,he considered. He was drunk as a skunk, and driving up to the cops and telling them about a zombie in the woods wasn't the wisest life choice he could think of at the moment.

His hands closed around the keys and he straightened up, peering around the back of the SUV at the fence, and saw the creature trying to get through the messed up fence. It's so damned slow, he thought again, then looked back at Mike's Bar, a plan forming in his head. He could run back to the bar, and get some of the heavy hitters in there to come out here with him. Then he'd have witnesses. And backup. He'd have to come up with a good cover story, though, something to get them to come outside with him. And he wasn't too crazy about taking his eyes off of that thing. He needed to act fast.

He grabbed a couple of rocks and hurled them into the windows of a few cars around the lot. The windows shattered and more than a few alarms started to go off. He smiled and looked back at the bar. After a few seconds passed, he frowned. No one was coming out. Shit. It was late, sure, but the place still had about ten people in it when he had just come out a few minutes ago. Someone had to have heard that racket. He started slowly walking back to the entrance, periodically looking over his shoulder to mark where the zombie was. It had made it into the parking lot, and was shambling towards him still. Slower than hell.

He burst through the door and began to shout.

"Hey, can't you guys hear that? There's a couple of punks outside bashing the hell out of all of your cars...hey! Guys! Fellas?"

He looked around in puzzlement. A few heads had turned towards him, sure, but they went back to their beers and drinks and payed him no further attention. There was a crack from the pool table in the corner as one of the guys cued up and broke.

Lucas stared...was everyone deaf? "I said," he started again, voice rising, "I need help out there?! Isn't anybody interested in their cars getting trashed?! What the hell?!"

"Did they touch the Ferrari?", asked one of the men from the pool table. Lucas looked over, jaw slack. The guy that asked was in a business suit, leaning over the pool table with his stick in hand, lining up his next shot. He had raised his eyes to Lucas and was patiently waiting for a reply, brow furrowed.

"I didn't even see any goddamned Ferrari," he half stammered. "No, no, they didn't touch the Ferrari, OK? But what about the other cars? Doesn't anyone care? Isn't anyone going to help?"

The man at the pool table let out a huff and took his shot, banking a nine ball perfectly into a side pocket. "We are helping. We're staying put. You should too." He straightened up and clapped the back of his hand against his playing partner, a sandy-brown haired man, wearing a business suit as well. He had on an unfastened blue tie and a tan trenchcoat. He was awkwardly holding the pool cue as if he couldn't figure out what to do with it. Lucas' head was beginning to spin.

"See there, Castiel? Now that's a great example as to what I was talking about. I am an absolutely peerless salesman because I can read people. And you were all worried that...that..." The man turned his gaze back to Lucas, a questioning look appearing on his face. "What did you say your name was again, son?"

"Lucas...", Lucas answered cautiously, not following what was going on at all.

"Lucas," the man repeated slowly before turning back to the guy in the trenchcoat he had called Castiel. "You were worried that Lucas here was going to get eaten. I told you that he would have enough sense to run straight back in here once he saw the horror show outside. That is reading people. That is what I'm trying so desperately to teach you, " the man finished, rolling his eyes and lining up for another shot.

Lucas took an unsteady step backwards. "Horror show...? ", he softly replied. "How do you...wait...you know about what's going on outside?"

The businessman's stick screeched off the ball as he mis-cued, his shot missing wide. He hung his head dramatically, straightened up and indicated the open table to his partner before walking around the table towards Lucas.

"Of course I do. We all do, " he said, waving his cue around at the entire bar. Lucas followed the motion and realized that everyone in there was watching him intensely. The Twilight Zone feeling of unreality got suddenly deeper. He felt the blood draining out of his face.

"We were waiting for those beasties to come breaking in here, as they are so wont to do around noise, music and drunk humans. This was all a trap, so-to-say. You just happened to pick this place to drown your sorrows tonight. Bad luck for you, then." The man shrugged. "Or good luck, if you will. You're safe as houses now, with us watching your back."

Lucas leaned back heavily against the wall. He regarded the businessman for a few seconds. The guy looked back, a friendly expression on his bearded face.

"But that thing out there is a...a...," Lucas muttered.

" A zombie, yes, we know," the man finished for him. "Well, technically speaking, zombies, plural. If you hadn't happened to notice, they have this place surrounded. They had been closing in on you in the parking lot as well. They love to do that. Sneak up from behind on people. It's singularly annoying. You would have never made it to your car, you know, " the man finished, raising his eyebrows. "But, I knew that you'd make the right call. That's what I do. I read people." He smiled triumphantly.

"What...who...who are you?", Lucas managed.

The man shoved his hands in his pocket and strode forward. "Name's Crowley. And just to save time, I'm the King of Hell...well, exiled King of Hell...long story. My partner there is an angel named Castiel. He's banned from Heaven right now, and helping me. These guys," he said, waving around the room, "are all soldier demons in my employ. You are Lucas, " he said, holding out his hand towards him palm up, "and outside there are about fifty zombies behind that rather flimsy door you're leaning close to at this very moment. So, if you don't mind, please do step away from there before we end up re-enacting a blasé horror film moment where they break through and drag you away screaming. That would be messy, and he will get very upset," Crowley finished indicating Castiel over his shoulder with his thumb. Lucas hastily stepped back into the middle of the room just as he began to hear scratching and scraping sounds outside.

Crowley had just turned back to the pool table to watch as Castiel made his last shot and sunk the eight-ball, grinning and straightening up to watch Crowley. Crowley's eyes bugged out in surprise.

"Where in the bloody hell did you...Castiel, were you hustling me?", he asked, very perturbed.

The Angel looked suddenly very uncomfortable. He carefully and slowly placed the pool cue back on the table and looked up apologetically.

"Um, well, yeah...Dean taught me...," Castiel answered. "Does that mean you want to fight me now? He warned me that that is usually what happens afterwards..."

Crowley rolled his eyes and turned away from the table, fuming. "Winchesters," he grumbled. "It's always the Winchesters. I mean, why do they always seem to be making my life miserable? What makes them so bloody special? I mean, look at us, Castiel, we're much better at this 'saving people' thing than they are. Take Lucas here as exhibit A," he continued, pointing at him."We managed to save him, right? He should've been a goner. He was completely drunk, out alone in the rain with a parking lot full of zombies and with no clue as to what was about to happen to him next. The Winchesters are always investigating the mangled corpses of people like Lucas after the fact. We're much more proactive."

The scratching at the door had turned into banging. There was a loud cacophony of moans and cries from outside. The wooden boards of the entrance started to creak and splinter. Lucas moved further into the bar, staring wildly around. The other 'patrons' had stood up and were pulling out knives and guns from their jackets and pockets. Crowley and Castiel had moved out from the corner near the pool table and were watching the door alertly.

Lucas moved next to them, grabbing a pool cue like a staff and holding it out protectively in front of him. He looked to his right at Crowley. "Um, not for nothing, Mr. Crowley, but there was a guy out in the woods with his head already split open and his brains eaten. So, you kinda didn't save him now, did you?"

Crowley closed his eyes slowly. "We missed one? How in all the hells did we miss one?" he whispered. "Super. OK. Fine. We may actually need a bit more practice at this. Sorry. All hail the bloody Winchesters." He shook his head and opened his eyes back up. "But we will still save your ass, Lucas, my dear, just stand back and watch us work."

At that instant the door splintered open and a wave of undead monsters started shambling into the room. Shots rang out from everywhere and smoke filled the air. The zombies dropped one by one but there seemed to be no end to them. They were piling up at the door, and several of them were breaking in through windows and crawling over the bodies, moving ever forward. Castiel moved forward in a flash of motion, a silver blade dancing in and out of the melee, leaving a wake of destroyed zombies in his path. The Demons had stopped shooting and were engaging the zombies hand-to-hand. Lucas looked over to Crowley who had his arms crossed like a football coach, watching the action unfold like it were a carefully orchestrated game plan. When a zombie stumbled out of the scrum close to them, Crowley quickly raised his hand. Lucas saw a red flash of light from Crowley's eyes and the undead monster dropped like a stone immediately to the floor. Lucas caught a whiff of sulfur. Crowley looked over at him and gave a dismissive shrug.

"They're just zombies. And like I said. I'm the King of Hell."