Title: The Walking Supernatural (12/16)
Author: daksgirl
Rating: R

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, some more friend Sam/Daryl moments
Genre: Zombies! Crossover fic of Supernatural meets the Walking Dead.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: SLASHY SEX. Two men getting it ooooon. Barebacking, coarse language. You know, the usual. Castiel!Bottom, Dean!Top
Word Count: 3,630 (WIP)

Summary: Bobby and the Winchesters are re-united, and he has a plan to save the world.

A/N: Sexy times at the end of the chapter yay! I'm a fan of slash stories that swap the top and bottoms around, so did that here, hope no-one is too squicked by it. Again, if you don't like m/m relationships, just skip the bottom end of the chapter (HA! Bottom get it?...right I'll shut up). Do I have to warn for Bobby and Crowley acting like an old married couple? Is that even a ship? Because I'm so onboard if so.

….

By the time they finally made it to the motel, the sun was high in the sky and everyone was yawning, blinking blearily.

It was a small run-down building a little ways off the main road, the peeling cheerful sign proclaiming in bold letters: Deluxe rooms for any budget. There were a few cars in the parking lot, and with a twinge of excitement, Dean recognized an old beaten up truck. Bobby.

"Looks classy." Dale commented, guiding the RV past the rusty gate into the small parking lot.

As the front of the building came into view, Dean suddenly noticed several still figures lining the outside fence. A total of about a dozen people dressed in sharp black suits and shades stood stiffly, watching the RV as it parked.

"What is this, a men in black convention?" Andrea exclaimed. "More of your friends?" Dean shook his head, opening the door and blinking in the bright light.

Sam stood outside, eyeing the figures warily. They made no move towards the new arrivals, slowly turning their heads back to the road outside the motel. Each had a semi-automatic slung across their shoulders, and it was then Dean noticed the slumped motionless corpses piled along the side of the building.

"They look like bouncers." Sam mused.

There was a shuffle and Crowley appeared.

"Well that's essentially what they are." The demon said. "I just thought suits classed up the joint a bit."

Dean stared incredulously at him. "These are your lackeys? Dude how come we didn't get any?"

Crowley snorted.

"Because I don't like you as much. Bobby's my favorite."

Before Dean could bluster a response, the front glass doors of the motel swung open, and a very familiar figure emerged.

Bobby looked the same as always, tattered cap pulled low on his head dressed in old jeans and a flannel shirt. He smiled as he noticed the two in the parking lot, stopping to put his hands on his hips.

"Well if it aint the Winchesters. Bout time you boys got here."

Both brothers grinned, striding over.

"Bobby!"

"Man is it good to see you…"

Fierce, but manly, hugs were exchanged. Bobby smiled at them both. He looked the same, but dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes.

"Thank god you're here. I was getting' mighty tired of having only these guys for company." Bobby jerked his thumb towards the silent demons. "They're good for when walkers show up, but don't say much."

The older hunter nodded to the angel as he walked over, followed by Daryl, Andrea and Dale.

"Good to see you too Cas. And…some new friends?" He asked.

Sam nodded, smiling. "Yeah, we've been…busy. Bobby, this is Daryl, Andrea and Dale. They're here to help."

Bobby arched an eyebrow as he looked over the three.

"Well we could use all the help we can get. Come on inside."

…

The inside of the motel was in relatively good condition. Bobby had set up the dining room as a base; piles of papers and books from his library covered most of the tables. Scraps of paper with Bobby's spidery writing littered the floor, and the older man stooped to collect some as the group moved into the room.

He motioned to some chairs in the corner of the room, and the group settled into them; Crowley lurking in the doorway. Bobby settled down in a larger leather chair at a table, sighing heavily as he moved some books out of the way.

"So the Sumarian banishing ritual worked for a bit huh? That's a stroke of luck. Just wish we had somethin' more permament." He said.

Something huffed happily in the corner, and everyone jerked as papers suddenly went flying; something invisible hurrying past them all. Dean felt panic claw inside his chest as he heard the familiar panting noises, and froze in his seat, eyes wide. Hellhound.

No-one started screaming and bleeding however, though Bobby did grunt slightly as the creature bowled into his seated legs. He reached out a hand and patted the air somewhere around his shoulder.

"Silly thing. Was only out for a moment." The hellhound whined, and some other papers on the floor scattered as it apparently sat down with a thud.

Crowley glowered from the doorway.

"You spoil him." The demon muttered. "He's hardly a terrifying bloodthirsty monster what with you constantly hugging him and calling him a 'good boy'."

Sam was staring. "Good boy?" He asked.

Bobby went red, ducking his head as he coughed.

"He aint so bad." He mumbled gruffly, hand still patting air. There was a joyful huff, and the sudden thumping of what could only be a giant tail wagging against the floor.

Before anyone else could comment, Bobby shook his head, grabbing a piece of paper with his other hand.

"I found something that might stop this whole thing." He shook the paper. "Kinda like a Sumerian exorcism. Only problem is it won't be enough on its own."

Castiel frowned. "It will require more than a ritual?"

Bobby nodded, handing the piece of paper to the angel. "We're gonna have to start up that damn machine again. Re-make the particle thing that caused all the trouble in the first place."

"Wait a minute," Andrea put her hand up on a stop motion. "But isn't that what caused the whole thing in the first place? A…a tear or something? Won't starting it again just make it bigger?"

Bobby shrugged. "When that machine turned on, it weakened somethin' between worlds allowing stuff in, formin' a one-way hole. Turning the machine back on will weaken it again yeah, but it'll also allow these son o' bitches back through. Out of our world. Then, we seal it up behind 'em."

Dale frowned. "I don't know about you but I don't know much about physics. Isn't there a lot of science protocols we'll have to deal with just to turn the thing on?"

Crowley was idly flicking through one of the many books. He looked up at the question, smirking. "You got an angel and a demon on the case. I'm sure we'll figure it out."

Castiel shifted in his seat, brow furrowed as he looked at Bobby seriously. "These creatures feed off of soul energy. If we are to seal them back into their own dimension, we will need a similar type of energy to do so. A vast quantity."

Bobby looked uncomfortable. "That's the tricky part." He admitted. "We're talkin' about tens of thousands of souls needed to power the spell. We're treadin' a moral grey area now."

"Where we gonna get them from?" Sam asked worriedly.

There was a polite cough, and everyone turned to Crowley.

The demon rolled his eyes. "Do I have to keep telling you blockheads? KING OF HELL. We got souls galore."

Dean crossed his arms with a scowl. "Am I the only one not entirely comfortable with trusting Crowley with all this?"

Bobby sighed. "I'd be inclined to agree with ya son, but we don't have a whole lotta options."

Again, Andrea held her hand up. "Now wait, are we talking about sacrificing people? Because that doesn't sit right with me."

Crowley sighed, moving away from where he had been poking through the assortment of books and papers.

"Let's put it this way: would you rather suffer in hell, being tortured every second of every day, or volunteer to take part in a ritual and become non-existent, avoiding said torture and pain?"

Dean knew which option he would have taken, given the choice.

Andrea seemed to agree. The blonde sighed, settling back down in her chair. Dale was staring around bewilderedly, shaking his head.

"This is all a bit over my head." He admitted. Bobby snorted.

"Welcome to the club." He looked over at the Winchesters. "We got everythin' we need. The machine is at a military complex in Illinois; bout a day's driving from here. Knowin' our luck the place will be crawlin' with the bastards. We gotta get inside, turn that stupid thing on and do the ritual. All goes according to plan, we save the world."

"And if it doesn't?" Sam asked quietly. Bobby smiled sadly at him.

"Then at least we went out fightin'."

The group absorbed this for a moment, and the reality of it hit Dean hard. They could die, and this time, there wouldn't be any angels to bring them back. Castiel was sitting to his left, eyes far away and Dean knew he was thinking the same thing.

Abruptly, he stood.

"Alright then. We'll head out tomorrow." He said grimly. "But right now we're all dead on our feet. We'll talk about this some more after we all get some sleep."

Sam nodded, yawning widely.

"Gotta agree on that. I'm so tired I could sleep right here." He murmured.

Dean looked over to find Castiel was gazing up at him.

"So, I'm going to hit the hay. Get some sleep." Dean looked meaningfully at the angel, starting for the door. Catching on, Castiel straightened, nodding slightly at Bobby.

"Yes, I believe I also require rest. I will…help Dean with the bags." He said seriously, following the hunter out the door.

Bobby stared after the two for a moment, before turning disbelieving eyes towards Sam.

"Do those two idjits think they're bein' subtle?" He asked incredulously. "I mean it's bout time and all but…really."

"Hit the hay, my ass." Sam muttered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Crowley smirked at him. "I think your brother prefers angel ass actually."

Bobby turned to scowl at the demon.

"Don't you have someone else to torment? Preferably far away?" He demanded.

Crowley grinned winningly, reaching out to pat the snuffling hellhound as it trotted over to him with a woof.

"Not at the moment Bobby dear."

Sam made a face. He did so not need to have images of Dean and Castiel in his head, then have to witness the demon flirting with, what was essentially, his father.

"Ok, that's my cue to leave." He huffed, standing. "Any good rooms Bobby?"

The hunter gestured towards the door. "Take your pick. A few were occupied when I got here, but most are ok. I locked the ones that aint no good. Just stay away from 3B. The mutt got a bit overexcited takin' care of some zombies."

Sam nodded, and the others also stood, all looking forward to a proper bed.

"Alright. Thanks Bobby."

….

They collected their bags from the RV; Dale and Andrea headed for one of the better rooms upstairs.

Sam cast a glance at Daryl. The man had been quiet ever since they arrived; probably overwhelmed at his sudden introduction into the world of the supernatural. Walkers were one thing, but demons and beings from another dimension were another.

"Guess it's just you and me now huh?" Sam smiled.

Daryl nodded, hefting the crossbow over one arm; a modest duffle in the other.

"Been a while since I've slept in a proper bed." He admitted.

The motel was designed like most; the doors opened directly into the parking lot, only a flimsy wooden walkway providing any cover should it rain. They walked down it together until Sam decided on one of the open rooms. The door hung slightly ajar, and Sam walked forward, hand outstretched to push open the door.

"Might be safer if we share, y' know…just in case." Daryl's voice was quiet, and Sam paused, throwing a look over his shoulder as his hand rested on warm wood of the door.

Daryl suddenly looked nervous and awkward, and Sam realized. Travelling in the company of others for so long, neither of them had been left alone to sleep in weeks, maybe even months. The prospect of sleeping in a room alone suddenly scared him just as much as it apparently did Daryl.

Sam merely nodded, and Daryl's worried expression disappeared as he managed a small smile. Sam pushed the door open, peering inside it warily.

Two queen size beds dominated most of the room, each covered in a simple blue bedspread. The walls were white, with a few crooked paintings nailed haphazardly to it, a few chairs and chest of drawers. It was sparse and simple, clean and tidy.

It was perfect.

The two men exchanged twin expressions of happiness. Sam flopped onto one bed, groaning in appreciation.

"Oh god. I may never move again." He muttered. Daryl slid the crossbow off his shoulder, placing it carefully on the bedside table as he scoped out the room.

A tiny bathroom was through the one door, a large closet hidden behind the other. A small black and white TV was nestled on one of the counters, and he flicked the switch experimentally. As expected, nothing happened.

Slowly, he sank down on his own bed, kicking his shoes off.

"So what's goin' on with your brother and Castiel?" Daryl asked offhandedly.

Sam snorted, the sound mostly muffled by the bed.

"You know, I don't think even they know most of the time."

Daryl leaned his arms on his thighs as he stared at the floor absently. A beetle was attempting to scale an expedition along the fluffy strands of carpet, little black legs waving in apparent victory as it made it to the top of one of the twisted fibers.

"No-one's ever looked at me that way." He said quietly.

Sensing his whole attention was needed; Sam rolled his head to the side, watching the man's hunched shoulders curiously. Daryl shrugged, reaching down to pull off his socks. He dug his toes into the soft carpet and the beetle flailed; knocked off its perch.

"I haven't….I never…" Daryl fingered the socks nervously, before tossing them to the side. "Must be nice I mean. To have someone."

Sam was quiet as he mulled that over. He didn't want to think about Dean and Cas, together, thank you very much, but he had to admit they were good for each other. Both equally stubborn, equally annoying sometimes and equally as crazy about each other.

Daryl shifted on the bed, grabbing the bottom of his vest and pulling it off in one motion. Sam wondered if he should hide his eyes or something. The only other man he had ever really shared a room with was Dean; what was the etiquette for non-family?

"My brother…Merle…" Daryl smiled crookedly as he balled the vest up and tossed it towards his bag. "We never 'ad what you and Dean have. I don't…I don't even know if he's alive." The discarded clothing landed just to the left of the bag, and he frowned at it for a moment. "No-one would cry if he aint."

Sam moved into a sitting position. "Don't say that." He murmured. Daryl shrugged with a low humorless chuckle.

"It's the truth." He turned his head to look at Sam, his eyes serious. "We never 'ad a family. What you got with Dean…with this guy Bobby…" He looked away, scratching the back of his neck. "Kinda wish I had that too y'know?"

Sam didn't know what was required in this situation. Should he offer to hug him? Or just offer manly advice? Urgh man stuff is hard. Great, I really am a giant girl.

Finally he just decided to do it the Sam Winchester way.

He smiled at the smaller man, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Well for what it's worth, you're part of this one now. Might want to run while you still can, we're the worst kind of role-models."

There was something unnamable in those blue eyes as they looked back at him. Something hopeful.

"Yeah?" Daryl asked.

Sam could see it then; the vulnerability of someone who had lost everything.

Someone who had been hurt badly in the past and was tired of carrying it around. Someone who wanted to do what was right, who wanted to save the world just to protect people. Someone who wanted to be accepted and loved for who they were.

Everything a Winchester had ever been, and ever would be.

Whoever Merle Dixon had been, he must have been a gigantic bag of dicks to not see all that in his younger brother, and Sam wasn't about to make the same mistake.

"Yeah." Sam grinned.

…

Castiel had been alive for a long time.

He had seen every moment of mankind's evolution, watched the moments of horror, terror and pain. He had seen the love that two people could share, smiled at stolen kisses and averted his sight during sweaty nights. He had seen everything.

But seeing, and experiencing were two different things, and in this very moment, Castiel wanted this experience to stretch on forever.

He was braced on his forearms, head hung low and eyes squeezed shut as he groaned shamelessly into the pillow. Dean thrust harder into him from behind, one hand splayed possessively around the back of his neck.

Castiel found the breath in his lungs shuddering, and he struggled to draw in deep breaths as the hunter fucked into him. It was rough and dirty, unlike the first time they did this and the angel reveled in it.

An arm hooked under his stomach, and Castiel grunted as Dean hauled him upright.

He bucked slightly at the new position, grinding his hips in a slow circle as Dean pressed against his back. He felt surrounded, covered and filled. It was unlike anything he had experienced, and the angel could only close his eyes and gasp his pleasure into the air, that he was finally allowed this. With Dean.

"It feels…it feels…"Castiel grunted, clenching his jaw tightly as he reached back with a hand to grab Dean's thigh; his fingers digging hard enough to bruise.

He longed to be able to stretch his wings free, to revel in the moment with all of himself, but he was unsure if he could do even that; his grace was so dampened and faded. It fluttered weakly in his chest, like a guttering candle in the breeze. Soon he would more mortal than angel, but strangely he did not fear it.

Not if this is what it meant to be mortal.

He felt Dean's lips caress the back of his neck, moving down to gently nip at the muscle in his shoulder. His skin was on fire, every inch of it aflame with desire, and he arched his back, pushing his hips more firmly into the solid line of Dean's hips.

"Yeah Cas." The hunter's voice was rough and strained, and Castiel found the sound of it only made his heart pound harder.

One hand trailed down the angel's chest towards his groin where he was so achingly hard, the other gliding over one hip to grip it firmly. For a fleeting moment Castiel wanted Dean to dig his fingers in; to leave bruises and mark the angel as his. Only and forever, his.

"Yeah, come on." Deans breath was hot against his ear, voice strangled, and Castiel angled his head in an attempt to capture that sinfully beautiful mouth with his. The position was awkward but the angel relished the slight discomfort. It reminded him that this was real, that he could feel. It was animalistic, messy and dirty. It was so utterly and completely human, and perfect.

Dean grunted, his hips pistoning harder, and Castiel felt the promise of release shoot through his veins. He hands clutched Dean against his back, head dropping down as he savored the sensation. His body thrummed, and as Dean whispered his name brokenly, the angel froze; body stretched tight as he came, mouth open in a silent scream.

Afterwards, sweat cooling on their bodies in the afterglow, Castiel traced the lines and shadows of Dean's face as they both breathed deeply.

He traced the freckles that peppered the hunter's cheeks, brushed the bridge of his nose, danced along his laughter lines, smoothed the worried wrinkles, and Castiel physically ached with the amount of love he carried for the man.

He knew Dean cared for him, he did, but he longed to hear it; to have it confirmed in these quiet stolen moments.

"Do you think it'll work?" Dean finally asked, voice quiet and low. Castiel paused his touching.

It was very likely that in the days to come, someone would be killed. Perhaps for a cause that wouldn't even work.

"It has to." He said firmly, ignoring his thoughts.

Dean's eyes opened, and he moved his head to see the angel better.

Castiel had always been fascinated by those eyes. If he looked hard enough it was as if he could see the parts of Dean that he usually hid from the world, as if it was solely for Castiel to see; to understand and cherish. Now, they were worried, and Castiel could see the fear and uncertainty in those green eyes. "But if it doesn't…"

Castiel silenced him with a kiss. He would never grow tired of kissing Dean Winchester. Never.

He tried to convey that to the human, pouring his faith and love into the kiss, relishing the way Dean responded to him, mouth opening. You can do this. You will succeed.

"It will succeed." Castiel said when he eventually pulled away. "It will."

The hunter settled back down after that, relaxing into the downy mattress and Castiel watched him as he fell into an exhausted sleep.

The angel couldn't resist pressing another kiss to those slack lips as he settled his head on Dean's chest, reassuring himself as he listened to the steady thump of Dean's heart. Everything would be fine. It had to be.

"I love you Dean." He whispered into the silent room.

….