It had been over five years since Dean had seen a town.
Actually, if he remembered correctly, today would have been the first day of the sixth year. Days blurred together and life could almost become monotonous, if Dean wasn't fighting for his life. Other humans trying to take the few belongings he had left, animals such as wolves sometimes attempted to attack him, and brutal weather often seriously decreasing his chances of survival. Cold winds went straight through what remained of his leather jacket or the sun scorched his body, there was no in between.
The town was a welcome sight to the traveler, although it was a bittersweet one. It reminded him of the life he had and what could have been. Dean Winchester gazed at the town, reminiscing. He thought wistfully of warm food and beds that were not made of dirt and stone. He thought of his brother, Sam. "His hair would probably be down to his knees by now" Dean whispered to himself. He chuckled at the thought as a lump formed in his throat. He held back a sigh and trudged towards the town, hoping to find some food and maybe new clothes. His leather jacket and old uniform were torn and frayed. They had long since been comfortable or protective, but they were better than nothing. His boots had held up better than the rest of his clothing. The laces were frayed and they had lost color in places, but the lining was, by some miracle, still intact and kept out most of the cold. He walked across what had probably been the town's main road, but now it was a mostly a collection of rocks and rubble. There had been days where he would have driven through this town in his '67 Chevy Impala, stopped to get an apple pie and a beer, and just kept on driving. As he remembered his old life and his old car, he slowly ambled towards what appeared to be an old restaurant.
He noticed that there was an "employee entrance" and swiftly went towards it. If there was any food left, it would most likely be in the kitchen. A noise startled him as he approached the door. As he advanced towards the doorway, he noticed another man standing at a grimy table covered with plates, pans, and other various kitchen utensils. He froze momentarily in horror as he realized what the brunette man wore. His dark uniform contrasted with his paler skin. He was a trespasser, the enemy. He belonged to the people who took his life and brother away from him. His face flushed and eyes glinted with rage and grief. He stopped himself, that war was what destroyed humanity, and if people could just learn to get along, many casualties could have been avoided. Pride was one of humanity's fatal flaws, many people would die before they would surrender. That was the reason so many met their deaths during the damn war and why society had eroded into anarchy and ruin.
"Fighting can't solve this" He thought to himself.
He stepped into the doorframe of the long vacant building. Before Dean could say anything, a flash of silver whizzed toward him. When he ducked, he vaguely noted it was a cleaver. He stared at the brunette in a state of awe and confusion. He did not look very strong, but the dark haired man continued to throw a pan and then a bottle at Dean. The glass shattered on the wooden door, echoing in the quiet.
"I guess we have to do it the hard way" Dean sighed as he lunged toward the slightly shorter man, now armed with a frying pan.
The black haired man hit Dean mercilessly with a frying pan and beat him to floor. A table broke under the taller man's weight. Dean grabbed the shorter man and threw him to the floor as he stood up. The invader stood up once more, only to be knocked out by Dean. He fell like a sack of bricks. The taller man walked to the table where the man had been standing and found a tin can of meat. It was some sort of bird leg, but Dean wasn't sure if it was chicken or turkey as he bit into it. He didn't bother tasting it as it slid down his throat. The texture would have made him gag if blonde wasn't starving. He paced himself and started to savor the meat as he dug in the can for another leg.
He stared at the man passed out on the ground. He nearly walked out of town, but changed his mind soon after he stepped outside. The young man turned and walked back to the employee entrance. Maybe most people had lost all sense of morality, but he still had a little left. That man in there was just trying to survive, and he had found the meat first. He cautiously entered the doorway once again, worried that the invader had awoken and would attack him. The shorter man still laid crumpled on the ground like a beat up rag doll. Dean stared at him for a moment and turned him over with his foot so his face wasn't in the dirt. The man had nice features from what he could see. His beard was overgrown and dirty, much like Dean's own lighter colored one. His old trench coat flowed around and over his body and a collared shirt that had probably once been white was encrusted with grime. He was skinny, but Dean could just make out the wiry muscles that lay underneath the cloth and grime. Dean walked around the kitchen once again and found a bucket filled with some liquid. He didn't question how the water got there as he plunged his hand into the coolness. Satisfied, he dumped the water unceremoniously on the dark haired man.