Day 13

8:40 AM

I feel like I've left my body, floating outside of the scene looking in, as I watch Dean's eyes throw out a thousand different emotions as he takes in the coat currently shaking in my trembling hands.

He mumbles something as he reaches out to touch it, gingerly, with one fingertip, as if he's afraid it might crumble into a million little pieces of dust if too much pressure is applied.

"Dean?" I say, but it comes out in a choked off whisper.

"Doesn't mean anything," he mutters, stroking his fingers over the material a little bolder now that it hasn't dematerialized in front of him. "Doesn't…"

I watch him, my eyes frantically searching his features for a sign that he's not going to shut down on me. His eyes don't leave the coat, but he clenches a handful of the fabric. The dried blood makes a crunching sound as his fist closes over it. I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to shut out the sound. I feel him take the coat from me, open my eyes to find his closed. Crap.

My eyes dart over to Jenni. She's standing, guarded, keeping Bryce behind her. She's also looking back and forth between Dean and myself like we've grown two extra heads between the both of us. I'm about to explain to her when Dean speaks up.

"Can I have a minute?" His voice is quiet, none of its usual gravel and edge. He sounds like a child. It's heartbreaking, and the thought of having to somehow drag him through this world and keep him alive without him in this state is terrifying.

I realize he's looking at me, waiting of an answer. I nod, "Yeah. Yeah, go ahead. We'll just be…" I trail off, but gesture to the front of the hardware store, where a busted out window has made it easy scavenging.

I watch as he makes his way around the Impala and folds himself into the driver's seat.

I swallow back the tears, and turn to Jenni and Bryce. We walk in silence to the broken window. I wait until we're inside, Jenni facing the rear, myself facing the front, Bryce exploring, before I offer her an explanation. She doesn't say anything, but I can see her nod every so often in the side of my vision.

It's a few minutes before she speaks. "You asked me yesterday why we stay here, why we don't move on."

It's not a question, so I don't respond, simply wait quietly for her to continue when she's ready.

"My daughter. We got separated about a month ago. I can't bring myself to leave that house. I keep thinking one of these days she's gonna make her way back, and I won't be there."

I glance at her, but her face is blank as she watches Bryce collecting what few boxes of ammunition were still scattered about the store.

"Every time that herd comes near, I find myself searching for her. I don't know what good knowing would do, but…" Her voice finally catches, and she finishes quietly, "At least I'd know."

I reach over, taking her hand, and we watch Bryce.

Day 13

9:10 AM

It's been 20 minutes, and Dean hasn't moved from the front seat of the car.

I motion to Jenni that I'm going out to check on him.

She whistles to Bryce, who picks his way through the overturned shelves of the store back to us.

"We need to get moving," she says.

I step back through the window into the sunlight, and turn to help Bryce through.

"There was a stash of canned stuff in the convenience store last week," Jenni mentions, nodding her head towards the 7-11 a couple blocks back. "You get him together, meet us there. 5 minutes."

I watch them go for a moment, then return my attention to the Impala. At the open driver's door, I squat down, a hand on Dean's knee. He doesn't look at me, doesn't seem to notice I'm there.

"Dean?" I say softly. He doesn't reply, just opens his eyes. There are tracks on his cheek, nearly dry now.

I chew my lip, unsure what to say. Sure, Dean and I were on common ground in some ways. Sam and Cas were both missing, had both left home in this particular vehicle two weeks ago without a word since. But I'm not the one who'd just been handed her boyfriend's blood-soaked clothing.

I'm still contemplating what to say when I hear another whistle. I stand up, and can see Jenni and Bryce on the corner, waiting. I sigh, knowing there's no way to finesse this.

"We have to go," I tell him.

He blinks.

"We can take it with us," I promise, reaching to take the coat from his hands.

He grimaces.

"Dean."

"It's not the coat," he grinds out, like his mouth doesn't want to let him speak.

It's my turn to blink.

"Baby," he says, quieter this time. "She won't start."

I turn my head back to Jenni. Even from this distance I can tell there's a sour look on her face.

"I can't leave her here," he whispers.

My brain is churning, trying to come up with something, anything, that will snap him back.

Turns out, I didn't need to bother. There's a Walker ambling down the street towards us. It's missing an arm, but that doesn't appear to be slowing it down any.

I take a deep breath, hoping this is enough to get Dean back to our reality, and pull on his arm.

"We. Have. To. Go." I say it as forcefully as I can without getting too loud. "Dean, they're coming, and we need to be gone."

Ol' One Arm is close enough now that I can hear the ragged groaning. Shit.

I yank on Dean's arm this time, and he gives, flying out of the car and into me, knocking us both to the ground. His shoulder digs straight into the center of my chest, sending a flare of white hot pain through me. I scrunch my eyes closed, biting down on my lip in an attempt to stop the scream that wants to tear out of me. I maneuver my arm between our bodies, and try to shove Dean off of me. I manage to turn my head, and in the space between the bottom of the Impala and the ground I can see Jenni and Bryce, their feet beating a path in the opposite direction.

I don't blame them.

Dean scrambles off of me, thrown into action, and I celebrate the tiny victory for a moment, until I realize he's scrambling for the coat, which ended up a few feet from us as he had tumbled out of the car.

This is up to me, I think. Awesome. We're not fucked at all.

In the melée, our friend has not only gotten closer, but more importantly, noticed us. She (I think?) ambles towards us, slightly faster now, her gait lopsided and swerving, and she's close. Fifteen feet. I crawl towards Dean, grabbing his ankle. He doesn't bother to shake me off. I yank the knife from his boot, swallow hard, and jump to my feet.

She's on me in seconds, the decaying fingers of her one remaining arm pawing at my sleeve. I've never been this close to one of them, had them in my face like this, and the stench is worse than nauseating. I struggle with her, turning her towards the car in the hopes that I can gain the leverage needed to jam the knife into her rotten skull. With my left hand, I push her backwards, pinning her as best I can. Her gaping mouth chomps at me, and maggots fall from her face onto my arm. I wretch, but manage to pull my right arm back, knife poised, and jam it into her head with as much force as I can muster.

Which was too much force.

It catapults me forward, onto her, and we both hit the ground. I clamber away from her, far enough that her limbs aren't touching me, and collapse.

The pain in my chest has calmed, but only marginally, into a slow throb. I lay sprawled on my back, trying to calm my breaths into something resembling normal. It takes a few minutes, but it finally happens.

I sigh, and pull myself off the pavement. I wonder to myself if I can even find my way back to the giant house Jenni had invited us into last night. Part of me doesn't care. Part of me just wants to curl up on the ground next to the car and give up.

I stand in front of him, and offer my hand. He looks at it for a moment, then up at me. I try to give him a smile, but I'm sure it looks more like a pained smirk. He takes my hand anyway, and I pull him up.

He clutches Cas' coat under one arm, and my dirty, gore soaked hand in the other, as we head off in the direction I had seen Jenni and Bryce go as they left us behind.