Croatoan

"Well Sammy, what do ya say?" Lucifer.
His familiar rasp echoed in Sam Winchesters ears as he assessed his situation.
Dean was on the ground a hellhound was standing over Dean. It's invisibility doing nothing to hinder the feel of it's presence.
His knife on the other side of the room and that damned smiling face of his right in front of him, the skin on his current vessel was peaking and breaking out in festering cracks and sores. It was clear lucifer was wearing his meat suit thin.

"Sammy don't!" His brothers voice shouted only to be met with a loud wet snarl.

His brother, or the world.
Which was more important? He questioned and his answer was fueled by the reply of a very dark part of him

"What has the world ever done for you but take everything you ever cared about away?"
And even then
"What has Dean ever been other than everything I do care about"

"Deal"
That was the last memory Sam had of being in control of his body. The rest was iffy- he remembered a handshake, his brothers screaming that was then drowned out by an indescribable pain that started in his head and spread like wildfire over his body. Sam dropped to his knees and as his eyes rolled back into his head he saw lucifer whom still held his hand mouth "excellent"

The world had changed drastically since then. Dean had still refused Michael and Castiel had fallen because he had protected him from Michael

Castiel...Cas...
What else could be said about him. He was all Dean really had now.

Croatoan outbreaks began to happen in small towns across the country and at first hunters had been able to keep them in check

Until that is, they spread to the cities. The virus spread to quickly for them to contain and at some point, one by one the hunters gave up trying to stop the virus and started trying to defend themselves and others against it

Dean and teamed up with group after group of hunters but in the end when their safe houses and Alamo's fell it was always Cas who continued to stay by his side. With no powers aside from somehow hearing his prayers still broken wings that needed more juice then an atom bomb to work and no home he was just as much a vagabond as Dean was and well, birds of a feather I suppose.

But right now Dean was thinking none of these things. Right now Dean was running. The old boathouse he had been hiding out in with a small group of civilians had been over run when one woman's nightmares had her screaming.

Every Crow for miles heard her and they were on them in seconds.
He could hear his angels condolences now

"you tried your best"
"It's not like you made her scream"
"It's not your fault"

But his angel was dead. The demons who had led the crows to them were laughing about it an he heard every word. They rang in his ears and shook his core like an earth quake. He should've gone with him when he offered...

Armed with only a shotgun that was running dry and a handful of rusted knives he did what he could to fend them off but when he told them all to run he hadn't realized he had been the fastest out of them

He hadn't realized that after half a mile he'd be the only one running.
After what felt like a hour he finally stopped followed only by the ghosts screams that the owners had left behind miles back. He stumbled around the decrepit town which nature was slowly reclaiming

How long had it been? A year, two? Since the hunters gave up. It seemed like centuries ago. He busted his way into a small diner where the food was either gone or beyond editable and he collapsed into his aching knees pain shooting up into the jello like muscles of his thighs pulling a grunt from his throat but he breathed the pain away.

-Cas-

he thought his lips moving with the words
-I've heard the rumors. Seen the smiles on those evil sons of bitches faces- he dropped his head and blinked away the rivers that pooled in his eyes
-Comon man prove em wrong. Like you always do-
Minuets passed and when no answer came frustration and wild fury burned in him
"DAMMIT CAS" he shouted not caring if anything heard slamming his fists into the rotted wood of the floor that it cracked the crust of rage causing a traitorous tear to crawl pathetically from his ducts "you can't leave me alone out here" he growled lowly through gritted teeth "not here...not this place...not you to" desperation creeped into his voice as he tried his best to focus only on the anger. It was an emotion he understood, he could handle. It distracted him from the black hole that was clawing up from his core and consuming his entirety and it's source.

"Dean..."
The low rumble, the hoarse grit, he knew it anywhere. He turned his head to the door that had opened without his knowledge and saw a blood soaked trench coat and a torn blue tie. In a rush the pools dried like a desert and his exhausted legs pushed him up and forced him over in rapid almost clumsy movements "Cas! Son of a bitch am I happy to see you what the hell happened?" His words poured out in a rush as he took in the cuts and gashes that covered him but realized there was to much blood on him for it to be his own.
Castiel stumbled and shuffled his energy nearly gone from getting here and from fighting off the horde "demons...knew who I was...sent horde" his words came in between breathes and the last word was garbled and slurred as it was spoken through lips that were slowly falling unconsinious. His body slid into deans support as it gave out Deans legs barely able to support them both as he slowly lowered the former angel to the chilled wood floor.

He forced his legs to stand, he needed to make this place safe for Cas

Cas needed to be safe- I...I need to be safe

Deans train of thought suprised him and with a violent shake of his head he tossed them away "self preservation man, you think by now you would've learned it" he mumbled to himself before closing the front door to keep the whispers of snow from creeping inside. Grabbing a dusty and formally white table cloth and crammed it into the bottom crack to keep the cold out and to muffle sound. He grabbed a chair and crammed it under the rusted door knob. It wasn't much but at least the sound of the chair falling would be enough to get his attention. After searching the rest of the building for entrances, exits and salt he started blocking off every possible entrance with noise makers, furniture, or salt. All expect for one window on the second floor that looked over a large bundle of bushes they were barren and wouldn't do much but it was better then nothing. After forcing his exhausted body to go through the motions of "securing" an area he decided it was time to kick back and take watch.

And in a decrepit coffee shop in the middle of a zombie-demon virus apocalypse Dean Winchester grabbed his shot gun, his handheld and his knifes, a bottle of dwindling whiskey and sat himself down next to a catatonic bloodied fallen angel in a trench coat and watched over him for over twenty hours. His legs were screaming, He was exhausted, a little drunk, and happy
Here, in this god forsaken cafe in a godforsaken world
Dean Winchester was happy