Welcome to my new Fanfiction!

After finishing Goodbye Is Never Forever I wanted to start something new. I was given a prompt for this story by the ever wonderful Winchestergirl67, and I finally got the idea of how to start it off while watching 28 Days Later, which, if you haven't seen, is a great movie. I know it's cliché and I know I'm lame, but I had to write it. So, I hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think. There will be death, fair warning. I can't say who yet but it's going to crush us all when it happens. I have my victim in sight. This story has absolutely nothing to do with the show, and so is completely away from any season story line. But, for arguments sake, it's set during season eight. But, like I said, it doesn't tie in with the show, at all. Well, it does. Ish. A tiny bit. But not until about chapter nine.

Danielle is the middle child. Which means she's two years younger than Dean and two years older than Sam.

Updates are going to be every Friday!

I think that's everything, if not please feel free to PM me, I always love to hear from you guys!

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy! — Kara.

"When there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk the Earth."

Dean wakes from a coma to find the world around him a very different one to what he had known. His brother and sister have long since vanished, leaving nothing more than a cryptic note in their wake, and he has no idea how to find them, what is happening around him, or how to survive it.

Dawn Of The Winchester

Chapter One: The Beginning Of The End

Cemetery — Wyoming — 01:12 AM.

The three Winchesters approached the locked gates of the graveyard, silent and resolute.

Through the rusted, antique bars and the leaves that wound their way around them, they saw the death that unknowingly awaited them. It walked over the graves without feeling or remorse, and it gave no acknowledgement to the engravings dedicated to the deceased. It didn't notice, and it didn't care. It didn't feel, and it didn't think. It was, quite simply, dead.

The smell of the earlier rainstorm and wet soil filled the air, and the cool wind nipped at their skin as they looked on at the scene before them. Gravestones were planted neatly in rows. Some were crumbled after decades of withstanding the harsh winters, and some were new, smooth and polished stone with words that would still shine in the sunlight. Yet all had one thing in common, the grass atop them — overgrown and unkempt, void of flowers or tributes, and it suddenly became apparent that their mourners had all long since joined them in their fate. And that they were the ones who now paced over the plots of their loved ones without thought or realization.

Amidst it all they could see the impossible task that lay ahead of them — a sea of the dead. They were everywhere, lurking and waiting, hundreds of them, and there was only one thing they wanted — their flesh. They moaned at the stench of blood in the air, their teeth were stained with deep crimson and their bodies were rotting away as they paced without direction.

Dean gave a short, steady breath, because things were not looking good for any of them at that point. He knew the odds were stacked against them, they always had been, and the chances were that none of them would come out of the other side of it alive. But what choice did they have? After everything that had happened, after everyone and everything they had lost over the past few weeks, their friends, their family, this was their one chance to make it right. This was how they could fix it.

This was their chance to save the world.

He looked between his siblings and offered a shrug. "Are you ready for this?"

Sam gave a firm nod, determined, and Danielle, despite everything, cracked a smirk, more for his benefit than her own.

It was now or never, life or death, the one chance they had to end it all. They had to take it.

"Let's do this."

Three months earlier.

Twin Falls, Idaho — Hospital — 17:23 PM

Falling back into consciousness could be a strange thing.

It was a slow process, and, as reality seemed to suck him back towards itself, Dean Winchester wasn't all that sure of his surroundings. He wasn't sure that he was even awake, but he could think, that much he knew. And that was a start. He couldn't open his eyes, finding them too heavy, as though they had been glued together. He couldn't remember what had happened to him before he had given into his slumber. He didn't know where he was, or how he had gotten there. But he was lying in a bed, that much he could tell. It crossed his mind for a short moment that he might be dead, because he sure as hell felt it. His head ached, and there was a pounding against his skull that almost outweighed the ache in the rest of his body. Almost. But, no. That couldn't be it.

Could it?

Internally, he groaned, and he couldn't tell if the sound had left his body. If this was another motel room and another hangover he was just about done, with everything. He couldn't take it again. It was becoming an all too familiar feeling to him.

As he shifted slightly, things around him became a little more certain, and he was suddenly much more aware of his surroundings. He felt how scratchy the sheets draped over him were against his bare forearms. He could feel the uncomfortable mattress beneath him, propped up beneath his head in a way they did nowhere else. And then there was that familiar smell of disinfectant that invaded his nostrils. It gave away exactly where he was. Even without opening his eyes, Dean already knew precisely what he was going to see in that room.

Or so he thought.

It was always the same. Every single time. The usual scene he woke up to was his brother and sister. The concern was always so evident in his brother's hazel eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep and fixed upon him as though he had forgotten how to blink. There would always be a frown on his face, and he was always just waiting to chastise him for whatever stupid thing he had done to land himself in that bed. One of his sister's hands would always be holding his gently as she waited on him to wake up, and her other would hold her seventeenth cup of coffee as she willed herself to stay awake just that little while longer. Her perfectly waxed eyebrows would be knitted together in concern, anxiousness, and worry.

But, this time, there was none of that. This time, he woke up alone. That had never happened before.

Curious, and finding a little more strength somewhere within himself, Dean managed to crack open his eyes. His sight was blurred, almost as though he was looking at the world through someone else's glasses. He could barely see anything at all. He blinked hard in an attempt to steady his broken vision, and, gradually, everything became so much clearer. The room was empty but for him, and something about it all was so different. It wasn't just the fact that his brother and sister weren't there, it was something more.

Something just felt wrong.

The lights above him were turned off, and the only source to brighten the room came from the window to his left. The window which, he noted, was boarded up with wooden planks, as if to keep something from getting inside. There was a gun lying on the small table beside his bed, and next to it was a shotgun. His eyes fell to the table towards the side of the room, it was piled with ammunition, enough to take out an army. It occurred to him, was that supposed to be left lying around in a hospital? What was happening? He pushed himself to sit up, and he tried to ignore how his body ached as he did. How long had he been there? Why was he there?

Dean glanced up at the machines behind him, and he frowned, they were turned off. Without a second thought he ripped the needle in his arm out, and he tossed it aside carelessly. It was as he pulled a hand down his face and focused his attention a little more that something else caught his eye. There was a scrap of paper laying atop the shotgun, and, even through the poor light, he could see that his name was written on the back of it. As he reached for it, he knew, this wasn't going to be good. Even he noticed how his hands were shaking slightly as he unfolded it, and he had to wonder why he had been admitted to hospital in the first place. Because he sure as hell couldn't remember.

Immediately, he recognized the neat handwriting that covered the page.

Dean,

I don't know if you're ever going to read this, I hope you will. Things are getting bad out there. Like, really bad. And, I'm sorry we had to leave, we held out for as long as we could, but we couldn't stay there any longer. You're safe in that room, we made sure of it, but you can't stay in there forever, and something tells me that you won't try anyway.

But, you need to be prepared. We don't know how many of them are going to be out there when you wake up, but we think we've left you enough ammo to fight your way out. At least, I hope we have. These things aren't like anything we've ever seen before, they're bad news, it's way out of our league, and it's spreading fast. Too fast for us to control.

If you are reading this, come and find us. I don't know where we're heading, I don't know where's safe, if anywhere is, and I don't think we have a plan. But you know my number. Call me. Don't let these things bite you, and aim for the head. That's the only way we've found to take them out.

If anything happens between me writing this and you reading it, just know that I'm so grateful for everything you ever did for me. And the only reason I made it as long as I did was because of you.

Please, be careful. And be safe.

Danielle.

Dean blinked, hard. He read the note again and again, trying to make some sense of it, but he couldn't. He was safe in that room but he had to fight his way out, what did that mean? Who, or what, was he supposed to be fighting? What was happening outside of that hospital room? He looked between the collection of weapons and ammunition to the boarded up window with a frown. What had they been trying to protect him from? What was out there waiting for him, ready to bite? What were his brother and sister running from? What had put them in such a hurry to leave? And, why hadn't they taken him with them? What could have been so bad that they couldn't wake him up and drag him to the car with them?

But then his eyes fell to the machines that had been attached to him, and he knew. Whatever he had been there for, they hadn't been sure that he was going to survive it. He didn't know how long he had been there or why, and for all he knew the note could have been a year old and they could both be dead. He looked back to the words, and he gave a short shake of his head. It was as though she had been trying to say goodbye, without actually saying it. She had written it as though she had assumed she was going to be dead by the time he read it. Either that, or she assumed he would be dead before he found them.

Something about that was wrong.

Danielle didn't think like that, about anything. That was how he knew, whatever was going on out there had to be serious, and it had her scared. It had her worried enough that she thought she had to say goodbye to him before she had faced it without him.

Had they been on a hunt that they wanted him to finish? Or had something really gone wrong for them? What did she mean when she said that it was spreading? What was spreading? Did he have some kind of disease? Was it even safe for him to leave that room? Where were the doctors? Or the nurses? Were they all boarded up in rooms, too?

There was a pile of clothes lying on the chair in the corner of the room, and, by the way they were folded neatly, with the way that his favorite jacket was laying at the bottom, he knew instantly that his sister had been the one to leave them there. What could have been so bad that they had to barricade him into a hospital room and leave him there unconscious?

Slowly, reluctant to move too fast, he climbed from the safety of his bed, and he felt how unsteady he was on his bare feet. He still didn't know why he had been in the hospital in the first place, but, somewhere in the back of his mind, he was more than aware that he was in no fit state to fight off whatever army was waiting for him outside of that door. Still, he made a move towards the chair and picked up the pile of clothes with a sigh, determined to get out of there, desperate to find out what had happened, and what was going on. More than that, he wanted to find his family.

Dressed and loaded with ammunition, Dean took a short, steady breath as he came to a stop before the door. He couldn't even begin to imagine what he was about to face on the other side of the wood, but he couldn't wait around in that room forever to find out. He needed answers, and he needed to find Sam and Danielle. With that thought in mind, he brought up his leg and kicked hard against the door, breaking through the barricade at the other side.

This was it. This was his escape.