Firstly, I don't own The Walking Dead. All credit for this amazing show goes elsewhere. Sam and Dean are based on Supernatural, and unfortunately I don't own that either. Now I've gone and depressed myself.

This is a long fic only because I fell in love with the characters and I couldn't stop writing. I love feedback, but no pressure. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you do decide to give feedback or rating, please don't be cruel. I'm a big ol softie... Thanks!

Welcome to the Hotel California...

Shane had been on the road for two days. He hadn't told anyone he was leaving, he just got into his truck and drove away from the farm they had been living on. It had been over for a long time, he knew that. Rick was back, Lori had denied him, they didn't need him anymore. After the fight at the school when he and Rick had nearly killed each other, Shane knew it was only going from bad to worse. He had been abandoned.

The walkers were moving out of the cities. Shane had decided to head west, toward Mississippi. He didn't know what he might find, but it was better than what he had left in his rear view mirror. Thoughts of Lori swirled through his head and he gripped the steering wheel of the old truck tightly. He was trying to push it away, but they persisted. He sighed irritatedly and rubbed the top of his shaved head with his palm. Glancing up at the road signs on the highway, he saw he was nearing Birmingham. Squinting into the bright sunlight, he could see the outlines of tall buildings in the distance. The idea of heading into a city was not a welcome one, and he pulled the car across two lanes so he could stay on the main drag and pass the city by.

A beep sounded from the dashboard and he glanced down to see the gas light come on. He knew he had been getting low but it was worse than he'd thought. He'd have to stop, siphon some fuel from the abandoned cars that were becoming more plentiful along the roadway. He glanced in the mirror behind him as he slowed the vehicle. Coming to a stop, he took a moment to be sure nothing was moving, alive or otherwise. The highway had been carved out of the side of a huge hill, and the left side was bordered by a tall concrete wall. The right side looked over a valley, so that meant he only had to contend with the threat from behind or in front of him. Not as bad as it could be, he thought. Getting out of the truck quietly, he reached into the back and retrieved two huge gas cans and a plastic tube. Making his way over to the nearest car, a minivan with blood smeared windows, he dropped the cans and started to pry the latch on the gas tank open.

A shuffling from behind him caught his attention and he spun around, grabbing the gun at his side as he did so. The walker must have been in one of the cars, because he hadn't seen it as he pulled up. He took aim and fired, hitting it in the forehead. Old, congealed blood burst out of the back of its skull and it dropped to the ground with a thud. He heard a groan and turned around again. Another one, an old lady with half her face missing, was coming at him from his left. He fired again she went down. There weren't any more for the minute and he set about his chore as fast as he could. He had drained the minivan and was headed to a nearby Cherokee with a dead body in the drivers seat when he heard more groans.

"Fuck!" He growled and abandoned the second car. He had enough to get the truck down the road before he had to stop again. He fired at the two walkers headed his way from the front of his truck, two more from the left. He darted back to his truck and started to fill the tank, but he could see three more coming down the road ahead. There wasn't enough ammo in his gun and not enough time to do anything but drop the can and duck back into the cab. Before he knew it, he was surrounded.

He was reloading when he heard the shots start. He ducked and held his gun up to his chest, waiting to fire back if he needed to. But to his surprise, the walkers around his truck started to drop, and he stuck his arm out and fired, taking out two more on his right side. The last one dropped and he heard a whoop come from the trees above the concrete wall.

"I said, Goddamn!" Came a cheerful cry and Shane looked up to see a figure in army fatigues start to rappel down the side of the tall structure. It was followed by another, and they landed on the highway lightly. Shane still had his finger on the trigger as he got out of his truck and stepped over the fallen bodies to meet them.

Their hats were pulled low and their faces covered, but as they approached him the first one pulled his mask down and grinned.

"Well, looky here. I didn't think there was anybody left." He said in a calm, friendly manner, but his companion just shouldered the long range rifle he had and stayed silent.

"Thanks, man." Shane nodded, eying them both closely. "Ran outta gas." The man was a little younger than him. Shorter but muscular, with two Glocks in holsters around his waist.

"You got a gift for timing, dude." The guy laughed, his green eyes sparkling mischievously "Didn't you know there was a herd moving through here?"

Shane frowned. "Nah. That didn't look like a herd. They were coming from all different directions and there weren't enough."

The young man nodded down at the gas can. "I suggest you go ahead and finish that. And, uh, that's the herd."

He pointed to a bend in the roadway in the distance ahead and Shane saw figures start to shamble into view. And it didn't stop. He backed up reflexively and took aim, but realized that there wasn't going to be much he was going to be able to do. He grabbed the gas can and dumped the rest into the tank.

Looking back, Shane was deeply surprised to see that neither one of the men looked even remotely concerned. The quiet one hopped into the bed and the talker made himself at home in the passenger seat.

"We should probably get going, man." He said. Shane swung himself in behind the wheel and revved the truck, throwing it into reverse.

"Head back down the hill." He heard and whipped the truck around, going back the way he had came.

"See that ramp up ahead?" The man pointed ahead and Shane saw an off ramp to the right just up ahead. He sped the car up the wrong way and squealed tires as he headed up the hill and away from the herd. They were quickly out of sight and he turned his attention back to the guy.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Dean." He answered and stuck his hand out. Shane took it warily. "That's Sam back there. And you are?"

"Shane."

"Nice to meetcha." He said, and focused back on the road. "There- pull in there."

Shane saw a place open in the trees a few yards ahead beside the road and he pulled in, hearing the crunch of gravel under the tires. They were still headed up the hill, and he found a clearing on the other side of the trees. A huge wrought iron gate stood at the top of the clearing, flanked by tall concrete walls. It looked almost like what a prison gate would, excepted there was a L & M emblazoned in the metal. Shane pulled up to it and stopped, and Sam hopped out of the back and went to the massive chain and lock that was securing the gate. Unlatching it, we swung the gate open wide enough for the truck to get through and waited. Shane narrowed his eyes uncertainly, hesitating for a moment. If he went in, he'd be locked in.

"Some time today, pal." Dean said lightly and Shane pressed down on the pedal, coming to a stop on the other side. Sam relocked the gate and hopped back up. "Over the hill. And we're there."

"We're where?" Shane asked, but as he rounded the crest he saw what Dean meant. A gray stone structure lay before him, and as he pulled closer he could see that it was overlooking the city. It looked very rectangular and fairly narrow, all concrete and steel, nothing soft about it at all. Large metal grates covered every opening , and several vehicles were parked in a cluster beside it. The prison thought from before once again drifted through his mind. Shane pulled the truck up to them and stopped. They got out and he followed the men to one of the metal gates. Dean pushed a button on the wall and looked up into a camera tucked discreetly in an alcove above them.

"Hi Honey. I'm home." He quipped, and the gate in before them jolted suddenly, making Shane jump a little despite himself. It rapidly slid to the left, and they stepped through the opening, the gate sliding shut behind them with a loud clanking sound.

"What is this place?" Shane asked as he followed them through a door on the other side.

"This place was built by a seriously paranoid guy with more money than God. When the world went to shit, we figured this would be safer than anywhere. Gotta love paranoid delusions, huh? Turns out the guy was right to be worried." He explained as he led Shane through a tall doorway and into a lobby with staircases on each side. They led to a loft type viewing area above. It was concrete in here too, cold and bare of any furnishings. Above them was a long row of windows looking down over the hill and city below. Dean went to a keypad next two a set of metal doors on the wall in front of them and hit a couple buttons. The doors slid back, revealing an elevator. They stepped in and he clicked a button. The doors slid shut and Shane felt them move down.

"Anyway, now, we call it home. Well, Trouble calls it 'Hotel California' but I have yet to know why." Dean finished casually and tilted his head over at Shane as they descended. Sam removed his hat and mask and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. Shane saw he was about the same age as Dean, though he was several inches taller. He wore a distant expression and leaned against the wall casually, listening to Dean talk.

"Trouble?" Shane said questioningly.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll meet Trouble."