Chapter Fourteen: The Lost

"When do you think Sam and the others will be back?"

Cas shrugged absentmindedly, focused on the way the clouds in the sky warped and spread their wispy particles. He was completely distracted, the cement of the bunker roof hard against his back. They had climbed to the very top of the building that sat above the bunker to distract from its existence. The roof had once been sloped, but it had fallen long ago to make ragged obstacles of splintered planks and cracked stone. There was a cleared space from when the boys had tried to repair the roof, but given up early on in the process.

"Probably sometime later this week," he mumbled quietly, shifting to a more comfortable position as the sun beat down on his face. "Why do you ask?"

"I worry." Dean admitted, propping himself up his one good arm. "It's been two days since they contacted us."

"The radio is down." Cas replied, still distracted. The cloud just above him contorted into a shape that vaguely resembled a halo. "Of course they haven't said anything."

"I wish we could go out and check on them." Dean whispered, his voice almost lost in the soft breeze that stirred the fallen leaves nearby. "I have to know if he's okay."

"Sam would never do anything risky, Dean." Cas smiled, enjoying the way it felt for a moment. "He's not as daring as you tend to be."

"I don't take risks." Dean laughed for the first time for a long while. It had been two weeks since Sam had left with Charlie and the others, and the group checked in occasionally from places within the city that hadn't been wrecked as badly.

"Sure you do." Cas lifted his head for a moment and settled his hands beneath it, enjoying an accompanying breeze. "I worry about it. But I can't stop you."

"Of course you can, if I'm really ever being so dangerous." Dean took a deep breath, the smile fading from his tired face. "Just call me out on it. Tell me not to. I trust your opinion, and I trust you."

"I love you." Cas whispered, the words coming from his lips without any forethought. There was a great lightness in him then, spreading from his head to his toes. It was like their little secret, hidden between lines in a story or indicated by a simple melody, only for the two of them to share.

"I love you too." Dean murmured, and the cloud that had once been a halo broke apart and drifted away from itself, spreading its way across the bright afternoon sky.

The static on the radio faded in and out as Bobby fussed over the antennae, engrossed in his project. Garth stood behind him, arms folded across his chest, and Jo was slumped against the wall, her head buried between her knees. Cas entered the room, having just left the roof a moment ago.

"What's going on?" Cas asked, adjusting the collar of his trench coat. "Is everything okay?"

"The group is trying to contact us from Wichita." Jo glanced up, leaning back against the wall. There were tears streaming down her cheeks in a peculiar fashion, and she looked like she was ready to break apart any second. "The signal on their end isn't strong enough."

"They said... something about Ellen before they cut out and they're still trying to talk." Garth nodded toward Bobby. "He's not too happy about the news."

"Guys?" Dean rounded the corner, his phone in hand. "Sam just texted me."

"Shut up." Bobby stepped back for a moment, his face red with a mixture of emotions. "Everyone, just SHUT UP."

No one said a word, and the silence became suffocating. Cas tried to breathe as quietly as he could, his chest rising and falling in a shallow sort of way. Dean crossed the room to be by his side, treading lightly in the wake of Bobby's panic.

"This damn thing..." Bobby slammed his hand roughly against the table by the radio, which quivered violently as a result. "We need to go help them. They're five miles west of the hospital and it sounds bad."

"How bad?" Dean kept his voice low, sidling closer to Cas and tucking his only hand in his pocket. "The text just said... well, never mind what it said, but it wasn't about Ellen."

"Ellen." Garth whispered, as if he expected only Dean could hear. He always meant well, but it was often not the message sent across. "She... she got bit. Swarmed, actually."

"Is she..." Cas tilted his head and felt concern rising in his body in its usual anxious and menacing fashion. There was another brief bout of silence as Garth glanced downward, his eyes filling with tears, and Jo stood there, her eyes closed as she tried to keep from openly sobbing. Her chest was convulsing with the grief that she was attempting to hold back, just until she could be alone, and this scene had Cas on the edge of crying as well.

"Guys?"

It was Sam's voice over the radio. Dean's eyes widened, shining with tears from the news, and he ran a hand through his hair in disbelief.

"Sammy?" Dean knelt by the radio, which was still shaking slightly from the impact of Bobby's hand. "Sammy, it's me. What's going on?"

"I- I.."

It broke up for another moment, and then Charlie's voice came in, the excitement that usually accompanied it replaced by notes of fear.

"Dean, we need help. Ellen... Ellen's gone, and so is Ron. Katharine can't know, not yet. We couldn't save them. Ellen tried, he was stuck, and-"

"Charlie, hey." Dean tried to laugh, but it came out like a hollow and hoarse whisper. "Just tell us where you are."

"We're at this place called Prairie Hill something or another... we were trying to get out of the city, but we're still far away from you guys. The cars are out of gas."

"The only Prairie Hill I know is that vineyard... I think that's about two hundred miles southeast from us. Can you walk part of the way?" Dean queried, biting the edge of his lip as he thought. "It would take less than a week that way."

"You don't understand." Charlie's voice was fading in and out now, the static growing steadily louder. "We're calling you from this place because we have no other choice. There's a massive horde of walkers outside... maybe thousands or more. They're all from Wichita. We can't leave."

"We'll come get you." Dean was beginning to sound desperate. His fingers tapped against the table impatiently as he waited for the static to fade away.

"You can't." Charlie was crying now... she had to be, by the sound of it. Her voice was more muffled and she took large gasps between each word. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I have to go-"

"Charlie?" Dean fiddled with the radio for a moment as it completely cut out, replaced with sporadic bursts of static that filled the awful silence in the room.

"When will they be back?"

"I don't know, Dean. Telling the future is not one of my abilities. Why do you keep asking?"

"When do you think they'll be back?"

"Soon."

"Are you sure?"

"No one is ever sure these days."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?"

"No, because I'm sure that I love you."

"I love you too, Dean."

"It's okay. It's okay."

- Ellen Harvelle