Title: The Walking Supernatural (14/16)
Author: daksgirl
Rating: R

Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Genre: Zombies! Crossover fic of Supernatural meets the Walking Dead.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Coarse language, character deaths like woah, graphic violence and gore, body fluids everywhere.

Word Count: 6,277 (WIP) WTF SELF TOO MANY WORDS

Summary: The fate of the world hangs in the balance.

A/N: This is an absolute MONSTER of a chapter. Sorry bout that. I butchered some more Sumerian this chapter, translation at the end. Without wanting to spoil too much about this chapter, bear with me and have faith guys ;)

…

It was chaos. Pure crazy, shit-your-pants-without-noticing, chaos.

Daryl imagined that it must be what war was like, just this time it involved a helluva lot of dead people.

They had waited until the first rays of dawn had tentatively broken over the horizon before making their move. Every person, demon and human was carrying firepower; most had several guns on their person and pockets stuffed full of ammunition.

Daryl had been unwilling to abandon his trusty crossbow and kept it on his back, a sheath of arrows clipped into the strap. It wouldn't do much good against the first wave, but once they got inside the tighter corridors of the science lab, the crossbow would be his weapon of choice.

The demon, Crowley, had taken the RV, tires kicking up swathes of grass as he slammed the accelerator to the floor. The rest of the group managed to fit on the back of Bobby's truck, Daryl and Sam following behind on the motorcycle. Together they roared down the dirt track towards the fence, the old truck clattering in protest as Bobby pushed it forward, the motorcycle purring smoothly as Daryl coaxed her just behind.

The plan worked well; the huge bulk of the RV slammed through the fencing easily and mowed down several surprised looking walkers in a spray of red; loud meaty thuds cutting off indignant groans as they slammed against the bumper.

Screaming like hounds on a coon hunt, the hellhounds had swarmed through the RV-sized hole eagerly; the demons following closely behind.

At first it looked like they had the upper hand. Walkers were going down in a flurry of blood and viscera, ripped to shreds by the hounds or mowed down by the semi-automatics the demons carried. Daryl had even felt a surge of confidence as he had revved the motorcycle down the track, the motor roaring her own battle cry and Sam whooping something in his ear.

We can do this.

But just as the humans started to enter the fray, it all went down the shitter.

The walkers around the outside the fence had been the usual type; slow and uncoordinated, easy enough to take out. But the walkers inside, well…they had their shit together.

They worked together, cornering the hounds and forcing the demons back; the air was filled with pained screeches as they tore the hounds to shreds. More walkers poured forth from the smaller buildings, from behind shrubs, from behind vehicles, from goddamn everywhere. All of them moving fast and all of them hungry.

Daryl watched a demon go down.

They had been barking out what must have been Sumerian words, and though a few of the walkers paused in their headlong charge, mostly it didn't do jack all. A young kid, no more than sixteen, tackled the demon around the waist, dragging him down to the floor where the other walkers fell on him; the demon's screams faltering off into wet gurgles.

Bobby's truck slowed to a halt up ahead, and Daryl saw Dean jump out the back, shotgun already firing into the screeching undead as they rushed forward. The motorcycle hit a patch of gore, what was left of one of the hellhounds apparently, and Daryl cursed, trying to get her back under control. She slid to the left, back wheel smacking against a walker as it charged forward at them, teeth bared. Sam put it down with a bullet to the head and Daryl managed to wrestle the motorcycle back under control, plowing through two more walkers until he made it alongside the truck.

Andrea stood on the battered hood, face calm as she sighted down the rifle, nailing one walker after the other with deadly accuracy. Daryl managed a quick look of appraisal. Damn that girl can shoot.

Bobby was already out of the driver's seat and moving forward; walkers fell down in front of him, screeching unhappily as a large invisible force bowled them over. One middle-aged man dressed in a tattered and bloody mechanic's outfit reached for the old man, fingers hooking into the cuff of his jeans and tugging.

Daryl watched in shocked surprise as the arm just ripped free, blood spraying from now ruined arteries. Bobby managed a quick glance at it, whistling shrilly as he moved past.

"Good boy!" He shouted to the hellhound. "Heel!"

Sam had scrambled free from the motorcycle, slamming the butt of his own gun into the face of an obese woman.

"Come on!" He yelled to Daryl. "We gotta fight our way through!"

Gritting his teeth, Daryl abandoned the motorcycle with a mumbled apology patted into her cool metal, just as three walkers slammed into it; jaws gaping as they reached for him. The shotgun in his hands boomed loudly, though he could hardly hear it over the screeches and screams. He hurried after Sam, grabbing Dale as he passed and pulling the shocked man behind him.

Walkers were everywhere.

Daryl saw glimpses of decaying faces as he fired into the roiling mass; he saw missing eyes and teeth, torn ears, bruises, burns , scorched skin and hanging wads of blackened flesh. Every horror known to man lurked here, and they all wanted a piece of him.

A female demon ushered them forward into a small cleared area of grass. Dead walkers littered the ground, and the group grimaced as they were forced to step on them. The demon pointed towards the outline of the concrete building directly in front of them. More walkers were coming, some running and others shambling behind.

"You gotta get in there." She said sharply. "We can try and hold these ones off for now, but then you're on your ow-"

She yelled as a walker latched onto her leg, teeth chomping into the vulnerable flesh underneath her jeans. Snarling she fired her semi-automatic; unloading several rounds into the things face.

Daryl turned away, following the tall shape of Sam as they moved forward; into the wave of oncoming undead.

Something slammed into him from the side, and Daryl grunted, feet bracing as he brought up his rifle to shove it away. A boy of no more than seven had latched onto his arm; teeth digging into the stiff leather gauntlets that covered his arms. He could feel the pinch of pressure as it sought to chew the flesh beneath, but the leather held firm.

Daryl pulled the trigger and the thing jerked back, before grinning at him and darting back forward. He had only hit its shoulder, and the boy's arm flapped uselessly, tethered only by a thin string of ligament. Cursing, Daryl aimed and fired again and this time the bullet found the mark. The boy went down, a clean hole gaping through his skull.

There was a loud voice, and the walkers froze up, some withdrawing hastily with hisses of protest. Crowley appeared, a pistol in one hand as he shot two of the creatures, the briefcase clutched in his other.

"Let's go kiddies!" The demon yelled. "Sumerian isn't binding them like before!"

Dean was leading them; Daryl could see his back as the hunter barreled ahead, closely followed by Castiel. Between the two of them they were clearing a path towards their destination, and the others followed them relatively blindly, shooting at anything that moved.

The main building loomed in front of them, watching them ominously as they ran towards it with broken windows for eyes. The front doors were open, more walkers lurching towards them and Dean fired at them, two collapsing in a crumpled heap. Behind the main building Daryl could see the huge concrete rings that Castiel had explained was the particle accelerator itself. They looked even bigger from down here, and he gawped at them briefly before Sam was shoving his arm roughly.

"Don't slow down!" Sam yelled to him, and Daryl snapped out of it, firing at a walker missing an arm as it clumsily attempted to grab the younger Winchester as he barreled past.

Two demons suddenly appeared in front of the group, the smattering of automatic fire cracking across the open space and clearing the rest of the way for them. Daryl nearly tripped over one of the corpses as he followed Sam through the yawning doorway, into the dimly lit corridor beyond.

….

"Now where?" Bobby had to bellow to make himself heard over the gunfire and screeches of the walkers in the small hallway. Castiel glanced down the white corridor, ignoring the smears of bright red blood along the walls and floor.

"We need to get to the main control room, underground."

Damn, how did the damn angel manage to sound so calm? This was a cluster-fuck of a situation, and Bobby wasn't sure he had enough ammo to try another stint like what they just pulled. He could hear the heavy snuffling of the hellhound leaning against his legs, and ran his fingers absently along the creature's spine. His fingers came away wet, and his heart sank. Goddammit Growly.

"Alright. We need to find some stairs then." Sam managed, eyes wide and face pale as he skidded to a halt beside the two. "Might want to make that sooner rather than later, Crowley's lackeys have the door covered for now but they're gonna come through before long."

The angel nodded.

"To the left." He said, coat swishing as he took off at a jog. Bobby threw Sam a look, but the Winchester merely nodded, turning to beckon behind him. So far everyone had made it in one piece into the place, but judging by the shell-shocked looks on their faces, it wasn't quite time for dancin' or celebratin' yet.

The white corridors were relatively empty, but trashed. Papers were scattered haphazardly around, including broken glass and various equipment. Bobby kicked a box out of his way, deliberately ignoring the sticky red stain that marred the bottom of it.

The power was still on, looked like the backup generator had kicked in, and Bobby sighed in relief. It had been one of his worries; there was no way they could turn the machine on with no power, but finally God had decided to not be too much of an asshole and had given them a break.

The lights flickered above them; casting moving shadows against the walls, and Bobby found himself jumping at them, expecting the dancing shapes to be a walker ready to lunge out at him.

Rounding a corner, the group skirted around a walker lying in the middle of the corridor. Its spine was snapped and it lay on the floor, grabbing for their ankles as they moved past, jaw wriggling from side to side as it chattered at them with broken teeth.

Daryl grimaced at it, and with one booted foot put it out of its misery.

The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly on, but the angel leading them turned down a smaller hallway, ducking through a splintered door. A dark staircase stretched down beyond it; completely unlit.

Bobby peered down into the black depths dubiously. "Aw hell."

Crowley moved past him, glancing down into the blackness.

"Wonderful." He looked back over at the older man, smirking slightly. The effect was dampened somewhat by the splatter of blood across one cheek, but Bobby had to give the demon props for trying. "Ladies first."

Scowling, Dean shoved past the demon. Keeping his back to the wall, he moved down the first couple steps, craning his neck to look down towards the bottom.

Sam shifted anxiously, moving behind his brother to peer over his shoulder. "See anything?" He asked worriedly.

"Oh yeah Sam, I can see London, I can see France, heck I can even see your lady underpants." Dean said sarcastically.

Bobby frowned, not relishing the thought of descending into the unknown not being able to see. "Don't suppose there's another way down?" He asked hopefully.

Castiel shook his head. "The elevators would be…unwise to use. Allow me." The angel took up point, moving down the dark stairs and disappearing from view.

With an angry murmur, Dean followed, shotgun gripped in front of him.

Slowly the rest of the group followed, Daryl bringing up the rear. Bobby could feel his heart pounding, and he reached out with one hand, feeling his way along the brick wall. Take it easy old timer, breathe. The brick was rough against his palm, and the old hunter took a moment to breathe deeply, attempting to calm his racing heart and the adrenaline that raced through his veins. He could feel the hellhound bumping against the back of his legs, and Bobby patted it gently.

"Good boy." He murmured, feeling the hellhound's warm breath pant against his hand as the creature whined at him.

"Why thank you darling, I thought I was quite good too."

Bobby rolled his eyes in the darkness, glad that it was too dark for the demon to see his smile. Stop makin' me almost like you.

"Shut up Crowley, ya idjit demon."

After a few grumbles and yelps amongst the group as they bumped and spooked each other on the way down the dark staircase, they managed to make it to the bottom unscathed. They spilled out into yet another corridor, and each breathed a sigh of relief to find the lights on.

The corridor seemed slightly less hit than the upper level; no papers littered the ground or broken glass, and Bobby relaxed slightly.

Dean moved slightly away from the group towards what looked like an office. A notice board was hung along one wall, a plethora of glossy, important looking photos pinned to the cork.

"Great. Now all we have to do is find the-" Dean yelped as a walker lunged out at him from the open doorway.

She had been a scientist; a tattered bloody lab coat flapped around her as she scuttled forward, forcing the hunter up against the wall as she snapped at him. Underneath the lab coat she had been wearing a blue blouse that now hung in tatters, revealing the cups of a white bra beneath. Below that yawned a gaping sticky hole in her abdomen, her intestines dangling wetly against her thighs. She mouthed at Dean's face but was held back by the shotgun he had thrown up in front of him as he yelled hoarsely.

Her skull erupted in a shower of brains and bone fragments; a shotgun blast ringing loudly in the small corridor. Castiel watched grimly as the walker slid to the floor, lowering his weapon, eyes hard glints of icy blue. Dean watched the angel with wide eyes, chest heaving.

"Thanks Cas." He grinned breathlessly.

….

The control room turned out to be more of a storage hanger. It was large, a good couple hundred feet across, two large pipes coming from the walls to join in the center of the room feeding into a large clear Plexiglass box. In front of the clear box was a control panel that looked like it had been plucked from a Frankenstein movie; complete with flashing dials, switches and levers. Castiel hurried over to it, studying the panel closely as the others scanned the room.

Luckily it seemed empty, and Crowley strode forward next to the angel, setting the briefcase down carefully.

"We have to secure the doors." He glanced around, frowning. "My demons can't hold them off for long and we'll have company soon."

The only entrance into the hanger was the double doors they came through, and together the group scoured the room from something to brace against the steel doors.

They found some heavy metal canisters, and together managed to roll them back towards the door; forming a small blockade. Dale found a length of heavy chain, and Sam hefted it through the iron handles, ramming an iron pipe through the links to hold it shut.

Castiel and Crowley were still studying the control panel, occasionally glancing up at the see-through box. The general understanding was that the particle would form within the box, but neither supernatural being could be sure of what would happen once that had been accomplished.

Crowley eyed the panel cautiously, one finger curiously tapping a flickering yellow bulb. "What you reckon angel? Might need some demonic assistance?"

The angel was running his hands over the panel, frowning as he studied the various gauges and dials.

"I believe that may be prudent." He said. "I can begin the process, but I am unsure there is enough power generated by the backup generator to ensure the machine reaches full particle acceleration velocity."

Crowley sighed, rolling the sleeves of his coat up to his elbows. "You know angel, I keep giving and giving, when do I get to receive a little, hmm?"

Castiel glared at him sharply. "When we save the world perhaps."

Bobby cracked his neck, squaring his shoulders as he nodded to the two at the control panel. "If you two are finished flirtin' maybe we can get this party started? Let's turn the son-of-a-bitch on and get this over with."

Crowley smirked, placing both his hands against the control panel, palms flat against the metal.

"Jealous, Bobby?"

His voice was light, but the demon's expression was serious, concentration etched into his brow as Castiel moved beside him. The angel reached out his hand, pausing slightly over a large switch, labeled 'Mains electricity'. He threw a questioning look at the demon and Crowley nodded.

"Do it." He ground.

The group braced themselves as the angel flicked it; half expecting the room to suddenly collapse on them.

Nothing happened however, and for a moment they simply stared around in blank surprise.

"Did…is it working?" Dale asked worriedly.

Castiel frowned. "I am unsure, I suppose perhaps-"

"Quiet!" Crowley snapped, his voice strained.

He was pressing his palms against the metal hard enough his fingers had turned a bloodless white, and his arms shook slightly. The group fell silent, and for a tense terrifying moment it seemed that nothing would happen.

Then, slowly, a red light above the control panel began to flash; casting a red glow over the demon's straining face. An alarm ground to life, honking hoarsely and machinery clanked into gear, whirring and shaking.

Castiel leaned forward, watching one of the dials, flicking a few more switches and pressing some buttons. The alarm began to honk faster, a mechanical voice wavering over it in a tinny voice.

"Warning, particle accelerator in use. Experiment in process. Warning. Core acceleration to begin in 20….19….18…"

It was working.

…..

The clanking and whirring grew into a dull whine, the whole place appearing to shake as the huge machine began to thrum. Dean grimaced as the robotic voice rose in volume.

"Warning. Particle accelerator in use. Core acceleration to begin in 10….9….8…"

"Guys?" Andrea's voice was worried even over the noise, and he turned to look at the blonde. She was staring at the door, rifle held tight into her shoulder.

"Oh shit."

The door was buckling; the chain stretched tight across the door and links straining. Dale pushed up against the metal containers, and Sam joined him, both straining to keep the door shut.

The commotion they had caused in the heart of the hive had not gone un-noticed by the workers.

Dean could see the glimpses of rotting flesh through the edges of the door, and brought his shotgun up. This is it. All systems go, Winchester.

"Cas! We got company!" He bellowed over his shoulder.

"Hold them off!" The angel yelled back. "At least until-"

The angel was drowned out by a loud horn blare.

"Warning. Core acceleration engaged. Beginning particle collisions in 3…2…1…"

An explosion rocked the room and Dean found himself slamming into the concrete floor; sharp shards of pain exploding along his left side as he hit the ground. Alarms were blaring loudly, so loud he couldn't even hear himself think, and he curled up on the floor, his ears ringing.

Then, the room fell silent.

A deathly quiet filled the room, disturbed only by the rhythmic pounding of the walkers outside.

"What the fuck-"Daryl's voice was loud in the sudden silence, and Dean lifted his head up.

The Plexiglass box was no longer see-through. Something…it looked almost like black oily smoke, had enveloped it; swallowing it whole and oozing along the floor.

The seeping blackness moved like ink in water; bleeding through the air in greasy tendrils, curling along the tubes holding it in place. It was foul and unnatural, and Dean could feel the hairs on the back of his arms and neck stand to attention at its presence.

"Holy shit." Sam scrambled to his feet, eyes wide. "We did it."

"They're coming!" Andrea's panicked shout brought their attention back to the heaving door, and Dean struggled up, joints twinging in protest. Right, the walkers.

Crowley yanked his hands away from the control panel, forehead sweaty and face pale as he stared at the terrible blackness. "Whatever happens, we have to complete this ritual."

Castiel nodded absently beside him, eyes wide and staring into the dark abyss. The demon grabbed his arm, shaking the angel hard.

"You hear me Cas? We have to do this now." He snarled. Jolted from his stupor, Castiel shook himself, eyes focusing again.

"Yes..of…of course." He didn't comment on the use of nickname, it hardly seemed important now.

Crowley cursed, taking a piece of paper from the inside of his coat and grabbing the briefcase beside him. He handed the paper to the angel, and Castiel took it numbly, eyes scanning the words.

"Just keep chanting, and whatever happens, don't stop." The demon said grimly.

"Don't we need candles or something?" Sam asked nervously, eyeing the paper dubiously. It seemed almost too easy, the salvation of the world copied onto a simple piece of A4, words scrawled in Bobby's spidery writing.

Bobby squeezed his arm, eyes never leaving the buckling metal door as he pulled the younger Winchester around to face the door with him.

"The power is in the words and the souls, son. We just gotta hope that's enough, and keep these son-of-a-bitches busy until they're done."

Castiel's voice rose over the roaring of the walkers outside, Crowley bellowing the same words a few seconds after.

"Peta babkama lumba anaku, erset la Toril!"

"Ati me peta babka!"

Dean watched the rift over his shoulder, gun still trained on the heaving door. The oily blackness seemed to shimmer wetly as the two supernatural beings chanted, and the hunter watched it with morbid fascination.

"Usella mitati inkalu baltuti, na za ana simtim alaku!"

The metal doors finally shattered under the strain, metal canisters sent crashing away as the walkers finally made it through. For a moment they all stood in paralyzed shock as hell literally spewed forth from the shattered ruins of the door.

Andrea broke it first; firing into the mass with a hoarse scream, jolting the others into action.

Dean lost track of everyone and everything; his world narrowing into a small field of vision where he destroyed every fucking thing that dared to come at him.

A woman limped into view, glasses askew on her slack face. She dragged her left leg behind her, the limb caked with dried blood and foot missing a shoe. Blood ran from her chin and trickled down the grimy line of her throat as she uttered a chuffing grunt, eyes trained on the hunter. The sounds of battle echoed all around them, and Dean bared his teeth at her.

"Come on then bitch." He ground. "Let's see what you've got."

…..

Sam alternated between firing, reloading, and using his gun as a club as the undead poured into the room around them. Luckily the door created a bit of a bottleneck, and Dale stood braced on one of the higher metal lockers, picking the creatures off as they attempted to force their way through. The bodies that dropped helped hinder some of the others progress, but most simply clambered over their fallen brethren without a second thought.

Daryl stood a little off to Sam's right; the man had taken up his crossbow and was wielding it with deadly accuracy, but the arrows wouldn't last long.

Daryl gurgled suddenly, and Sam spun his rifle around as the man was pulled back.

"Daryl!"

A walker had grabbed him from behind, and Sam had to gape incredulously at it for a moment. One of Dale's bullets had hit it with accuracy, but not quite enough to put it down for good. It rose up behind Daryl, tissue and blood running down the side of its face. Its brain, still intact, pulsed from inside its ruined head. It had wrapped its fingers around Daryl's throat, its few remaining teeth in its lower jaw slavering across the back of his neck, and Daryl's eyes were wide with fear.

"Oh come on." Sam snarled. "Die already!"

Not wanting to accidently shoot his friend, Sam strode forward in two quick steps, forcefully slamming the butt of his rifle into the creature's face. It fell back with a gurgle, releasing Daryl, and Sam spun the gun around to fully destroy it for good.

Daryl smiled shakily at him and Sam squeezed his arm, reassuring himself the guy was ok.

"Thanks." He rasped.

The two turned back to the fight, just in time to challenge a heavyset woman whose lower lip was split and hung in two beefy flaps. She grinned at them, and Sam grimaced, smacking her across the face with the rifle. She stumbled back and Daryl took the advantage to put an arrow between her eyes.

Sam's heart sank as even more things just took her place. Castiel and Crowley's combined voices rose over the roars, and Sam steeled himself. No matter what, they had to keep going. The whole world was at stake. Gritting his teeth, Sam threw himself back into the fray.

…

Andrea had never considered herself to be special, or to have any good talents. Amy used to tease her that Andrea was special; retardedly so. That would always lead to a good-natured bickering match which always concluded with Amy in a headlock and Andrea messing up her hair unmercifully.

But here in the middle of the apocalypse, at the end of days, Andrea had finally found her special talent. She only wished Amy had been alive to see it.

She could shoot walkers.

She plowed bullet after bullet into the heads of the monsters that had stolen her sister from her, relishing their grunts of pain and the sound of their corpses slumping to the floor. They poured through the ruined doorway like cockroaches, and she was going to exterminate them. Each and every one.

Blind rage and fury fueled her on, and the pile surrounding the door grew. An obese man attempted to grab her arm but she blew a hole clear through his forehead, turning on her heel to deliver the same sentence to a middle aged woman dressed like a librarian.

She aimed at a walker scuttling towards her on all fours; knees bent backwards and shinbone punching through the rotting skin. The rifle clicked in her hands and she cursed, hand fumbling in her coat pocket for more ammo.

Something heavy punched her in the stomach, and Andrea inhaled sharply, eyes wide. Everything seemed to slow down sluggishly, and she looked bewilderedly at the creature as it skittered backwards away from her.

It grinned, teeth stained red with blood. My blood. She thought numbly.

Andrea felt her legs give out, her knees slamming to the hard concrete. Something wet was running down her thighs, and numbly she clutched at her abdomen with one hand, feeling her fingers sink into her own ruined flesh easily. Fucking bastard got me…

She tried to breathe, but fluid in her lungs gurgled, blood spraying from her mouth.

The walker bore down on her again, black eyes glittering with malice. It mouthed obscenities at her with a ruined mouth; promised acts of torture and debasement.

Somehow, she wasn't sure how, she rammed her rifle forward, the barrel clicking against its cheekbone. In one last herculean feat of strength, she pushed upward and was rewarded as the barrel slid smoothly into the creature's eye; metal crunching along the bone of the socket. It screeched angrily, clawing at its face as it toppled forward.

She let go of the gun as the creature hit the floor; the rifle sliding all the way home in a spray of black blood.

Andrea managed a weak smile of victory before rotting fingers grabbed her from behind, another pulling her down onto her back.

Her last thought was of Amy, of the sister she had lost.

I'm coming Amy, I'm coming.

….

Dean stared down the undead with false bravado. They had cornered him up against another control panel. Dials dug into his back with sharp twinges of pain, and as they advanced, he twisted, boots scrabbling against smooth metal as he clambered on top of it. The walkers glared up at him, hissing, decaying hands reaching for him which he kicked away with shouted obscenities. There was a certain awareness glittering in their dead eyes now, a breathless sense of some enormous otherworldly power, barely held in check.

Cas's voice rose in volume, Crowley's voice faltering as he attempted to match the angel.

"Edin na zu, alla xul! Maskim xal!"

"Edin na zu alla xul…Ma…maski…m xa…a-"

Dean turned at the demon's hitched voice, gaping momentarily before shooting at the creature that clung to the demons neck.

It ducked the blast, teeth burrowing deeper into the demon's vulnerable shoulder. Crowley's face was pinched with pain, but he didn't falter, bellowing out the words even as the walker yanked it's head back, taking with it a sizeable chunk of Crowley.

Another walker lunged at him, grabbing his arm and forcing the demon down onto his knees on the concrete. The briefcase slammed to the ground, skidding a short distance away. Dean aimed for the second walker, fingers gripping the gun tightly as he sighted down the metal, slick with gore.

"Bite this you evil fuck!" He roared.

There was an empty click.

The demon disappeared under more of the things, his voice trailing off into a wet gurgle as Dean scrambled to reload.

Another voice rose over the victorious screeching and suddenly Cas was there, shouting Sumerian and kicking the feeding walkers away. Dean finally managed to reload; blasting two walkers with one bullet.

"Usella mitati inkalu baltuti, na za ana simtim alaku alal ana harrani sa alaktasa la tarat!"

With screeches of protest the swarming creatures fell back, the bloody form of Crowley weakly struggling free. Castiel grabbed the discarded briefcase, smacking a walker in the face with it as he hurried back to the demon's side. Crowley slumped against the control panel on his knees, one hand clapped to his bleeding neck as the angel sank down beside him. With a shaking, shredded hand, the demon reached for the briefcase, hand slapping against the shiny black leather and leaving a smear of blood.

"A…ati me pet…a babka." He murmured from bloodied torn lips.

With a loud whooshing noise, the briefcase snapped open, a blinding inferno of light bursting forth accompanied by baying screams of protest as the walkers stumbled back.

Dean shielded his eyes, sinking onto his heels as he shouted triumphantly from his perch above the undead.

We did it, he thought numbly. Come on…

But when he uncovered his eyes, the inky blackness remained. The walkers crowed triumphantly, decaying fingers clawing at the pale demon and dragging him back towards them whilst Castiel shouted at them; trying to grab the demon back.

Dean's eyes met Crowley's, the demon's brown eyes resigned and empty as he was tugged back into their decaying embraces, disappearing from view.

It didn't work.

Sam's eyes met his across the heaving mass, and Dean could see his abject terror before he turned away, swinging his rifle in front of him left and right; determined to fight until the very end.

The walkers surged forward again, and Dean caught a glimpse of Daryl before he disappeared from view; punching the creatures with his bare hands as the guns failed against the sheer number of the undead. It wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't.

We're going to die. He thought numbly. Everyone. The whole freakin' world.

They were pulling at his boots now; dead fingers snapping and cracking like dried twigs as he stomped on them angrily. He threw a glance at the shiny blackness in the center of the room. It looked almost like it was pulsing now, throbbing in victory at not having been defeated. The souls hadn't been enough. There was nothing left now but to wait for the inevitable end of the world.

Unless….

Maybe it just needed more juice. The souls Crowley had collected were damned, tainted by hell and not nearly as powerful as the souls the rift must have consumed from heaven. Maybe it wasn't so much the quantity, but the quality.

Dean stared at the spreading blackness, a plan forming in his head.

A walker tried to sink its teeth into his shin, and Dean slammed the rifle into his forehead; knocking it off the panel. They had encircled him, rotting faces twisted in grotesque expressions of triumph.

Castiel had retreated on top of a metal canister, hurling Sumerian curses into the roiling mass of undead below, his face a mask of unchecked fury.

"Cas!" Dean had to shout to make himself heard over the terrible noise, but the angel heard, turning icy blue eyes towards him. Noticing the walkers surrounding the hunter, his expression turned to one of pure terror, and he lurched forward slightly, shoes balancing precariously on the edge of the metal container.

"Dean!" He shouted, his voice thick with fear. "DEAN!"

Another walker was hauling itself up onto the panel and Dean shoved it away half-heartedly. This was it. The words were there on his tongue, and he forced himself to smile, despite the complete horror of the whole fucked up situation.

Typical Winchester.

It only took a life or death situation and the end of the world for him to finally say the simplest thing. This one last time, before the end of everything.

"I love you!" He bellowed over the din, heart pounding, and for the first time since getting to the damned complex, it wasn't because of the walkers.

The angel froze, staring at him incredulously as death clawed at his shoes.

Dean shoved another walker, spreading his arms with a crazy grin. The thing flopped back to the concrete with a wet splat.

"You hear me? I love you, you crazy bastard! I love you Cas!"

Castiel's eyes were wide, his hair disheveled and wet with blood and gore, his clothes ripped and bloody, but in that moment, Dean had never thought him more beautiful.

He kept that image of the angel burned into his mind as he turned, throwing himself off the control panel into the mass of undead. He crushed a woman in black under his weight, blood squirting into his face as he kicked free from her grasping hands, pushing through the surrounding undead towards the shimmering rift.

He felt several latch onto him, teeth tearing past his coat and jeans to the flesh beneath. Dean grunted, pushing forward with single-minded intent, eyes trained on the blackness in front of him, ignoring the pain that radiated along his skin.

Castiel was screaming at him, and he could hear Sam's hoarse shout from somewhere to his left but Dean kept moving forward, wading further into the walkers that swarmed towards him.

I'm sorry Sammy. Maybe you'll forgive me one day. You and Cas.

He tugged himself free of one walker, feeling the flesh being torn from his shoulder. Another clawed at his face and he felt the flesh rip loose, blood stinging his eyes, but still he ploughed forward.

The rift glimmered in front of him, only a few paces away. It looked even worse up close, a constantly shifting slick blackness. The walkers were screeching at him, hands tearing and clawing at him to pull him back, but Dean continued, pushing through the decaying corpses.

Fuck you zombies, Winchesters don't go down easy.

He stretched out one bloody and shredded arm, fingers outstretched. The very tips of his fingers brushed against the slick blackness, and the walkers screamed, desperately trying to pull him back into their midst. Something snapped in his left leg accompanied with a rush of warm fluid and Dean felt them winning, drawing him back and away. Growling, he slammed his right leg forward, throwing his weight into a forward fall. For a moment, time seemed to pause; the blackness yawning in front of him, arms outstretched and an army of the undead behind, reaching for him.

Then, the moment was over and Dean tumbled straight into the inky black smoke of the rift.

He could still hear Castiel screaming as the blackness enveloped him; his skin crackling and burning. He opened his mouth to scream but his tongue turned to cinders, his lips cracking and splitting open. It was like hell all over again, but so much worse.

His last thought before burning up completely was a tiny plea that it was enough. That he could be enough to save the world.

After all, what was purer than the soul of the righteous man touched by an angel?

…..

Translation

Open the gate for me so that I can enter here, land of no return.

Gatekeeper, open your gate for me.

Raise up the dead here consuming the living, go to your fate.

Go to the desert evil god. Evil fiend!

Raise up the dead here consuming the living, go to your fate, down the road whose course does not turn back.

Gatekeeper open your gate for me.