February 24th - February 26th, 2010
"Maddison..." someone whispered, causing me to slowly wake up.
I opened my eyes and sat up, and when my vision cleared, my heart started beating rapidly at what I saw in front of me.
"Hi." Lucifer smiled.
I looked over my shoulder to see Sam and Dean sleeping soundly in their beds behind me.
"Don't worry about them. They're asleep... actually, so are you," he said.
"Why do you keep coming to me in my dreams?" I asked. "It's kind of creepy."
"Well, if you scrub that crap off your ribs, I won't have to," he said.
I rolled my eyes. "What do you want?"
Lucifer shrugged and stood up, walking over to Sam. "I'm just wondering why you haven't convinced Sammy to say yes yet."
"I'm literally never going to do that," I said.
"Are you sure?" he asked, then walked to Dean and pulled out a knife.
I stood up and walked over to them. "What are you doing?"
"Showing what'll happen to your precious Dean if you don't do what I ask of you," Lucifer said and then stabbed Dean in the chest.
Dean's eyes shot open, and he started choking on his own blood.
"No, no, no..." I ran to him and pressed my hands to his chest, trying to get him to stop bleeding.
Then Dean grabbed my arms, gasping, and choking. "Just do what he asks, please, I don't want to die again."
My eyes widened, and I pulled away from him, backing up.
"It's not real, remember?" Lucifer whispered in my ear from behind as he placed his hands on my shoulders. "It's just a test run."
I jumped and stepped away from him. I looked at the now-dead Dean, lying in a puddle of his own blood.
I shook my head. "I can't."
"Dean will die," he said.
A tear rolled down my cheek. "I know, but if Sam says yes, Dean and millions of other people will too."
"So, you're willing to sacrifice your brother to save people you don't even know?" Lucifer asked and walked over to Sam.
I looked at Dean, hesitating, and then took a deep breath. "Yes, it's what he would want."
"But what do you want?" Lucifer asked, staring down at the peacefully sleeping Sam.
I laughed. "I want all of this to stop. I want the apocalypse to end—"
He held his hand up. "Isn't it funny how you want this all to end, but the one thing I'm asking you to do to end it, you refuse?"
"I don't want people to die!" I yelled.
"Why? What's the big deal?" He rolled his eyes. "Most of them will go to a better place or whatever."
I shook my head. "The answer's no."
"Fine!" Lucifer yelled and slammed his knife into Sam's chest, then appeared in front of me. He lifted me in the air, with his hand around my throat. "If Sam doesn't say yes on his own. Then I can promise you this... when I'm through with you... you will be begging to say yes to me."
I glared at him and spit in his face. "I'm not afraid of you."
He wiped the spit from his face and then stabbed me in the stomach, filling my body with radiating pain. "You will be."
Lucifer twisted the blade, and blood trickled out of my mouth.
"Maddison! Hey! Wake up!" a voice echoed loudly through the room. "Maddison!"
I woke with a gasp to someone shaking me and threw a punch as hard as I could at the blurry figure. When the figure fell, I pulled my knife out of my ankle holster and jumped on top of my attacker, putting my knife to their throat.
"Maddison!" Dean yelled.
Someone picked me up from behind, pinning my arms to my side. I caught my breath and realized I had attacked Dean.
"Hey, hey, hey. You're fine," Sam said from behind me.
I took a deep breath and nodded.
"You good?" Dean asked as he stood up.
"Yeah, I'm good," I said, and then Sam set me down.
I looked at the knife in my hand and then tossed it onto the couch before walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind me.
"What the hell was that?" Sam asked.
"Don't know. She can throw a punch now, though," Dean said.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked exhausted, like I hadn't slept at all. I splashed water on my face, backed up against the wall, and slid down to the ground. Was that his plan? To give me a nightmare, so they would ask me what was bothering me? So, I feel like I had to tell them the truth? Or was he just messing with me, hoping I would slip up? No. He wasn't winning. I refused to let him.
Knock! Knock!
I jumped.
"Maddi? You all right?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, uh, yeah. I just—" I stood up. "I had a nightmare."
"Yeah, I could tell," Dean said.
I opened the door. "I'm really sorry, Dean."
"It's okay... anything you wanna talk about?" he asked.
I walked by him. "Uh, no. We were on a case..." I shrugged. "It went south."
They both stared at me for a second, almost as if they were checking to see if they should believe me or not.
Dean nodded. "Well, now that you've got your blood pumping. Pack up 'cause we found some omens."
Lightning storms took us to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I was a little nervous because I didn't really have a chance to apologize to Nate the last time I was there. I was more concerned with Sam getting better. Plus, I wasn't really sure how to approach him after the obsessive texts I had sent him. I was just thankful that I never hit send on the completely heartless one. Weirdly enough, we were also having trouble getting ahold of Bobby.
"Bobby, listen, when you get this message, call! Okay?" Sam sighed and then hung up.
"Is he still not home? How far could he get in that chair?" Dean asked and then looked at me in the rearview mirror. "You been able to get a hold of Nate?"
I shook my head. "No, he's still avoiding me."
"So, what do we do?" Sam asked.
Dean shrugged. "Well... guess we just do it ourselves."
They got out of the Impala and walked into a diner to meet with a witness. He claimed to have watched a dead man, Clay Thompson, break into a trailer belonging to someone named Benny Sutton. A few minutes later, Clay walked out, but Benny was dead.
Shortly after they walked in, though, a sheriff pulled up and walked into the diner. I quickly pulled out my phone and texted Dean.
Me: Heads up. Sheriff. Shes wlkin in rite now
A few minutes after that, Sam and Dean came rushing out.
"What happened?" I asked.
"She caught us. Said to get out of here before she decided to do something about it," Dean said, "Apparently, she knows Bobby."
Sam nodded. "Which didn't go so well when she called our supervisor."
"So, now what?" I asked.
"We find out what Bobby's been up to," Sam said.
When we made it to Bobby's house, he let us in reluctantly, which was a bit strange. I nervously walked in after my brothers and peered around the corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of Nate, to at least see how he was doing.
We followed Bobby into his living room, and that's when I realized his hair was combed back, and he was wearing a nice button-up shirt. On top of that, the house looked cleaner than I had ever seen it before.
"You know how many times we called? Where have you been?" Dean asked.
Bobby shrugged. "Playing murderball."
Dean sniffed the air. "What's that smell? Is that soap? Did you clean?"
"What are you, my mother? Bite me," Bobby growled.
"Bobby, seriously," Sam said.
"I been working. Ya know, trying to find a way to stop the Devil," Bobby said.
"Find anything?" Dean asked.
"What do you think?" Bobby scoffed.
"Bobby, it's just... there's a case less than five miles from your house," Sam said.
"What? The— The Benny Sutton thing? That's what this is about?" Bobby asked.
"You knew about this?" Dean asked.
"Hell, yes." Bobby shrugged. "I checked into it already. There's nothing here."
"Except a witness who saw a dead guy commit murder," Sam said.
"What witness? Digger Wells?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah." Dean shrugged. "So?"
"So, he's a drunk," Bobby said.
Sam shrugged. "Well, what about the lightning storms? They look like omens."
"Except in February. In South Dakota. In storm season." Bobby shook his head. "Guys, I thought it was something, too. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."
"But who killed Benny then?" I asked.
Bobby shrugged. "Take your pick. This Benny Sutton guy was a grade-A son of a bitch. There's a list of the living a year-long, wouldn't mind putting a cap in his ass."
Dean shook his head. "So, you're telling us... nothing?"
"Sorry." Bobby shrugged. "Looks like you wasted a tank of gas on this one."
"Great." Dean scoffed.
"Now, if you don't mind, I got some errands to run," Bobby said.
Sam and Dean exchanged a look, and then we turned toward the front door. On the way, I spotted Nate peering out of his bedroom door, but once we made eye contact, my heart fell because he almost immediately closed the door.
Later that night, after getting dinner, we drove back to the motel when Dean pulled off to the side of the road and looked over his shoulder.
"What?" I asked.
"Isn't that the graveyard back there?" Dean asked.
I looked over my shoulder and saw a sign for the entrance into St. Anthony's Cemetery.
"Yeah. So what? Bobby already checked it out," Sam said.
"And? What, Bobby's never wrong?" Dean asked and opened his door. "Come on. We'll take a peek, and then we'll hit the road. Can't hurt."
We got out and walked through the cemetery carrying shovels, but it didn't take long for us to find a grave with overturned soil.
"Hey," Sam said.
We stopped in front of the grave. The headstone was Clay Thompson's.
"That look fresh to you?" Dean asked.
I nodded. "Definitely."
We got to work digging the grave, and once we finally reached the coffin, the front was totally broken out and empty, aside from the dirt that had made its way inside.
"What is going on here?" Sam asked.
Dean shook his head. "I don't know, but something stinks."
Once we finished returning the dirt to the grave, we drove to Clay Thompson's house and broke in to make sure his family was still alive.
We looked around for a minute, and then someone came out of nowhere and tackled Dean. Dean grabbed hold of them and pushed them to the ground, and then we all drew our guns at the attacker.
"Don't shoot me! Please! There's money in the safe." The man cried, shaking on the floor with his hands up.
"We don't want your money," Dean said.
"What do you want?" the man asked. "Anything. Please..."
"You're Clay Thompson, right?" Sam asked.
Clay furrowed his brow. "Who are you?"
"Um, FBI...?" Sam said, unsure.
I was a little nervous, but luckily it was dark enough in the house. Clay didn't even look at me. He was just terrified.
"FBI? Oh, my god. This is about Benny," Clay said.
"Wha— What about Benny?" Dean asked.
"He killed me! He shot me in the back!" Clay shouted. "I'm supposed to let him get away with that?"
"Hold up. Are— Are you confessing?" Dean asked.
"Please. I'll go with you. Just— Just don't wake my kids," Clay begged.
"You'll go with us where?" Sam asked.
"Jail," Clay said.
"Let me get this straight. You're Clay Thompson, and you died five years ago?" Dean asked.
Clay nodded. "Yes."
"And three days ago, you climbed out of your grave, and you killed Benny Sutton?" Dean asked.
Clay nodded. "Yes."
"So you are, in fact, a dead guy," Dean said.
Clay shrugged. "I guess. I— I— I don't know what I am."
"Clay?!" a woman shouted from the other room. "I called 9-1-1!"
"It's okay, honey! It's the FBI! They're here about Benny!" Clay yelled back to her.
"Why don't you come with us, Mr. Thompson? I think that'd be best," Dean said.
Clay nodded, and he voluntarily walked out of the house in front of us. We each had our guns ready as we walked outside, but when we got closer to the street, Dean raised his and aimed it at the back of Clay's head.
"Dean..." Sam whispered.
"He's a monster," Dean whispered back.
"He's a soccer dad," Sam whispered.
"What do you want to do with him?" Dean snapped.
"Freeze! Drop your guns!" The sheriff and a deputy ran up, aiming their guns at us.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. All right. Hey," Dean said and put his gun down and held his hands up. Sam and I quickly did the same. "Remember the guy you said that was dead and couldn't possibly commit murder? There he is."
"And?" the sheriff asked.
"And?" Dean asked. "And you're welcome... for catching the undead killer zombie."
"Whatever he is or isn't, that don't give you the right to shoot him in the middle of the street," the sheriff said and handcuffed Dean.
"Shoot me?" Clay asked, terrified.
"You're free to go, Mr. Thompson," the sheriff said.
"Free to go?!" Dean shouted.
The deputy walked over and handcuffed Sam and then handcuffed me.
"I can't believe you were gonna kill me," Clay said disgustedly at Dean.
"You're a zombie!" Dean yelled.
"I'm a taxpayer!" Clay yelled back and then huffed away.
We were led to a small holding-cell, one after the other, and then uncuffed. Once we were inside, we sat down on the bench.
"I bet you wish you were still too young to be arrested," Dean said.
I shrugged. "Eh, I can take this off my bucket list now. Arrested with my brothers for trying to kill a dead guy in the middle of the street... check."
Dean laughed and shook his head. "So, what? Sheriff's on the take?"
"Yeah." Sam shook his head. "No." He thought for a second. "The zombies are paying her off?" He shook his head and continued to think and then looked out of the cell. "Hey."
I looked up and spotted the sheriff and Bobby, chatting and looking over at us.
"So, what? Now they're friends?" Dean asked.
Apparently, Bobby worked some magic and got us out. It was like four in the morning, and I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was get to the motel and go to bed, but Dean was all wound up about the case.
Sam pushed Bobby's wheelchair toward his truck. "Bobby, I thought the sheriff hated you?"
Bobby nodded. "She did 'til five days ago."
"What happened five days ago?" I asked.
"The dead started rising all over town," Bobby said.
"So, you knew about this?" Sam asked.
Bobby nodded. "Yup."
"I think what Sam meant to say is, you lied to us?" Dean asked.
"Look, I told you there was nothing here. And there isn't. Not for you," Bobby said.
"There are zombies here," Dean said.
Bobby shook his head. "There are zombies... and then there are zombies. Come with me."
We followed Bobby to his house and then walked in after him.
Dean shook his head, annoyed. "You want to tell us what the hell—"
A woman with ashen skin, wearing an apron, walked to the table carrying a plate. "Oh, hey. I didn't realize you were bringing company."
"It's 4AM, babe. You didn't need to cook," Bobby said.
"Oh, please!" She waved off his comment. "I'll get some more plates. Do you want me to wake Nate?"
Bobby shook his head. "No, let the boy sleep."
She smiled and then walked back into the kitchen.
"Who was that?" Dean asked.
"Karen. My wife," Bobby said.
"Your new wife?" Dean asked.
Bobby shook his head. "My dead wife."
After Karen set the table, we all sat down and dug in. It was probably the best dinner I had ever eaten. After that, she cleaned the table, brought out a pie, and plated it up for us.
Dean dug right in and filled his mouth. "This is incredible, Mrs. Singer."
Karen smiled. "Thank you, Dean."
Sam frowned and gave Dean a look.
Dean shrugged and whispered, "What? It is."
Bobby nodded. "It's great, Karen. Thanks. Could you, um, just give us a minute?"
Karen nodded and left the room.
"Are you crazy? What the hell?" Dean snapped.
Bobby sighed. "Dean, I can explain."
"Explain what? Lying to us? Or the American girl zombie making cupcakes in your kitchen?!" Dean shouted.
"First of all, that's my wife, so watch it," Bobby snapped.
"Bobby, whatever that thing is in there, it is not your wife," Sam said.
"And how do you know that?" Bobby asked.
"Bobby, something like this always has a catch," I said.
"You kids think I'm an idiot?" Bobby snapped. "My dead wife shows up on my doorstep, I'm not gonna test her every way I ever learned?"
"So, what is it? Zombies? Revenant?" Dean asked.
Bobby shrugged. "Hell, if I can tell. She's got no scars, no wounds, no reaction to salt, silver, holy water—"
"Bobby, she crawled out of her coffin," Dean said.
Bobby shook his head. "No, she didn't. I cremated her." He shrugged. "Somehow, someway, she's back."
"That's impossible," Sam said.
Bobby nodded. "Tell me about it."
"You bury her ashes?" Sam asked.
Bobby nodded. "Yeah."
"Where?" Dean asked.
"In the cemetery. That's where they all rose from," Bobby said.
"How many?" Dean asked.
Bobby shrugged. "Fifteen... twenty. I made a list." He pulled a paper out of his pocket and handed it to Sam. "Uh, there's Karen... Clay... Sheriff Mills, her little boy came back."
"And there were no signs?" Sam shook his head. "No, omens?"
Bobby shrugged. "Well, there were the lightning storms."
"I thought it was storm season in South Dakota," I sassed and took a bite of pie.
Bobby raised an eyebrow at me.
Dean sighed. "What else?"
Bobby rolled over to his desk, picked up the book of revelations, and flipped through the pages. "'And through the fire stood before me a pale horse. And he that sat atop him carried a scythe, and I saw since he had risen, they, too, shall rise, and from him and through him.'"
"So, what, Death is behind this?" Dean asked.
"Death, Death? Like Grim Reaper Death?" Sam asked.
Bobby nodded. "Yeah."
"Awesome." Dean scoffed.
I sighed. "Another horseman."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Must be Thursday."
"Bobby... why would Death raise fifteen people in a podunk town like Sioux Falls?" Sam asked.
Bobby shrugged. "I don't know."
"You know, if Death is behind this, then whatever these things are... it's not good. You know what we have to do here," Dean said.
"She doesn't remember anything, ya know," Bobby said.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked.
"Being possessed, me killing her— her coming back," Bobby said.
Dean sighed. "Bobby—"
Bobby shook his head. "No, no, don't Bobby me. Just— Just listen, okay?" He listened to Karen humming in the kitchen and smiled lovingly. "She hums when she cooks. She always... used to hum when she cooked. Tone-deaf as all hell, but—" Tears came to his eyes. "And I never thought I would hear it again." He shook his head. "Look, just read Revelation. The dead rise during the apocalypse. There's nothing in there that says that's bad! Hell, maybe it's the one good thing that comes out of this whole bloody mess."
"And what would you do if you were us?" Dean asked.
Bobby nodded. "I know what I'd do. And I know what you think you got to do. But... I'm begging you. Please. Please. Leave her be."
After getting some rest and heading to a diner the next morning, we shoved our empty plates away and talked about the case.
"So, what do you think?" Sam asked.
Dean shook his head. "There's nothing to think about. I'm not gonna leave Bobby at home with the bride of Frankenstein."
"Then what do you want to do?" Sam asked.
I shrugged. "We can't just walk in there and take her out in front of Bobby."
Dean nodded. "If she decides that Bobby's face is the blue plate special, I'd like to be there."
Sam shrugged. "Fine. I'll see what else I can find out."
Dean and I went to Bobby's and kept watch on the house in his salvage yard. After five or so minutes of watching, Karen walked up next to us, and we jumped.
"Oops." Karen smiled. "Did I scare you?"
Dean shook his head. "No, no, no. There's... nothing scary about you at all."
"Feel like some lunch?" She smiled.
"Uh..." Dean glanced down at me. "We're good. Thanks."
"Come on, there's more pie," Karen tempted us.
Dean shook his head. "I don't think that Bobby wants me inside."
"Guess it'll have to be our secret, then, huh?" She smiled and waved for us to follow her. "Come on."
We followed her into the house and into the kitchen, where she handed us each a slice of pie. The room smelled amazing, and looking around, I realized why. There were pies everywhere, all different types.
"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that you like pies. Did you bake all these?" Dean asked.
Karen shrugged. "I don't know what it is. Since I got back, I can't stop baking."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, when do you have time to sleep?"
Karen shook her head. "I don't. Must be the excitement."
Dean shrugged. "Or being dead."
Karen sighed. "I know you don't trust me."
"Why would you say that?" Dean asked.
"Come on, Dean. That's why you're here, isn't it? Keeping an eye on me? I know who you are. Just like I know, Bobby's not the same mild-mannered scrap dealer I married. You hunt things. I— I'm a thing." She nodded. "I get it."
"So then you know that the three of us would never let anything happen to Bobby. That he's like a father to us," Dean said.
Karen nodded. "I understand. And he's lucky to have you looking out for him, Dean. But you're not the only one."
"Is that so?" Dean asked.
Karen sighed. "I remember everything, you know. When I died. That demon taking over my body... and the things it made me do. And Bobby having no choice but to— Well, you know what he did. But I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me. The guilt. It weighs on him."
"But you told him you couldn't remember," I said.
Karen smiled at me. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say neither of you have been in love. He's my husband. My job is to bring him peace... not pain."
I felt my phone vibrate, and my heart skipped a beat when I read a text.
Nate: Can u come here
I tucked my phone away and put my pie down on the table. "I'll be right back."
I walked down the hall toward Nate's room, and he was sitting on the bed waiting for me. When I stepped into the room, we just stared at each other.
"Um, before you say anything," Nate said, "I'm not ignoring you because I hate you." He sighed. "I just can't talk about what happened." He shook his head. "Not now... maybe ever."
I nodded. "Okay."
"I've been struggling because I really want to talk to you, but I'm scared our conversation is going to circle around, and it's going to bring me right back." He shook his head. "I feel like I've dug myself out of a hole, and I can't go back."
I nodded. "I understand—"
He nodded. "Yeah, but listen." He sighed. "You kinda freaked me out a few weeks back. You were like non-stop texting—"
I put my hand up. "Can I just stop you there and explain?"
He nodded.
I sighed. "I'm not really sure if I can redeem myself as not being a total psycho, but we were working a case, and it turned out Famine... like the horseman... was in town. He was making everyone obsess over things they were, quote-un-quote, starving for." I shrugged. "Apparently, not hearing from you was bothering me a lot more than I realized." I frowned. "I'm really sorry. I never wanted to be that person."
He nodded. "It was honestly a lot for me."
I furrowed my brow, feeling terrible. "I'm so sorry, Nate."
He smiled slightly. "At least I know you aren't actually crazy."
I laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I wouldn't go that far."
We stared at each other for a moment.
I cleared my throat. "Um, so, what do you think about this whole thing with the dead rising around here?"
Nate shook his head. "I don't know. Like I'm happy for Bobby, but I don't trust it. Karen's nice and all, but I sleep with my door locked and a gun under my pillow just in case she goes dark while we're sleeping."
I nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I'm a little worried, Bobby's too close to this one. Of course, I want to believe that everything is okay, but—"
"Something like this always has a consequence." Nate nodded.
"Hey, there you are." Dean's heavy footsteps walked up behind me.
"Yeah, sorry, I got distracted," I said.
Dean nodded and looked at Nate. "Yeah, I see that. How are you doing, kid?"
Nate shrugged. "Hanging in there, I guess."
Dean nodded and looked at me. "Sam called. He found something."
When we met up with Sam later, he told us that when he was checking out the other people who had come back. Old lady Jones in town attacked him and had eaten her husband's stomach. On top of that, she looked like she had leprosy or something. So, after Sam got himself cleaned up, we rushed to Bobby's house to warn him about what was to come with Karen.
"Keep your damn voices down. Karen's upstairs," Bobby snapped as he led us into his library.
"Oh, I'm sorry. We're a little tense right now. Who's old lady Jones?" Dean asked.
"She was the first one to come up," Nate said, leaning against Bobby's desk with his arms crossed.
Sam nodded. "First one to go bad."
Bobby shook his head. "Ah, she was always a nutty broad."
"Nutty, how? Nutty like the way she ate her husband's stomach? Was that the level of nutty she was in life?" Dean asked.
Bobby shook his head. "No."
"Look, Bobby, I feel for you. But you have got to acknowledge that you're not exactly seeing this straight!" Dean yelled.
Sam sighed. "Bobby, whether you admit it or not, these things are turning. We have to stop them... all of them."
Bobby pulled a gun out of his pocket and set it on his lap while still holding the trigger. "Time to go."
"Bobby?" Nate asked, shocked.
"Nate get to your room," Bobby warned.
Nate hesitated before doing what he was told.
"What?" Dean asked.
"You heard me. Off my property," Bobby said.
"Or what? You'll shoot?" Sam asked.
"If Karen turns, I will handle it my way," Bobby said.
"This is dangerous," Dean said.
Bobby cocked his gun. "I'm not telling you twice."
We all looked at him in shock, and then Dean put his hand on my shoulder, pushing me through the house in front of him and Sam.
After Dean started driving, he just got more and more pissed and finally slapped the steering wheel. "He's crazy."
"It's his wife, Dean," Sam said.
"So he goes Full Metal Jacket on us?" Dean asked. "We're his family, Sam."
"Look, man. Bigger fish, okay? I mean, we got a bunch of zombies about to turn this town into a giant chew toy," Sam said.
"Yeah, and he's got him and that kid alone in the house making pie with one of 'em!" Dean shouted.
"All right? So?" Sam asked.
"So?!" Dean shouted. "I'm gonna have to go back there and— and— and kill her. That's the only thing I can think of."
"If he sees you, you're a dead man," Sam said.
Dean shrugged. "Well, then, I guess I won't let him see me."
Sam nodded. "Okay. I'll... head to town and rescue everyone... should be easy."
"Take Maddison. She can help," Dean said.
I nodded. "Yeah, but we're still gonna need help, Dean."
"What about the sheriff?" Dean asked.
"Uh, last time I checked, the sheriff was pretty pro-zombie," Sam said.
Dean shrugged. "Well, I guess you'll just have to convince her."
"And how are we supposed to do that?" I asked.
"I don't know. You're just gonna," Dean said.
As soon as Dean dropped us off at Sheriff Mill's house and took off, we heard her scream, "Oh, my god!"
We ran in and found her standing in horror in front of a child devouring a man. The whole living room floor was just covered in blood.
Sam grabbed her shoulder and pulled her toward the front door. "Let's go!"
"No!" she yelled.
"Go!" Sam pushed her out of the house.
Sheriff Mills tried to push him out of the way and run back into the house. "My husband!"
Sam grabbed her by her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. "Leave it! He's dead!"
"That was not my son!" she yelled.
"You're right. It wasn't. Listen, sheriff," Sam pleaded, "Your town is in danger. People are in danger, and we need to help them now. Can you do that for me?"
Sheriff Mills shook her head and cried.
"Can you focus for me, Sheriff?" Sam shook her. "Sheriff?"
She took a deep breath. "How do we put them down?"
"Headshot," Sam said.
She nodded. "We're gonna need weapons."
"We can start by rounding up everybody we can find. Where is there a safe place we can take people?" Sam asked.
"Jail," Sheriff Mills said.
"Right. Just, um..." Sam pulled out his gun and looked at her sadly. "Give me a minute." Then he walked back into the house.
Sheriff Mills started pacing, and then a moment later, there was a gunshot, and she started sobbing. I put my hand on her arm to offer her some sort of comfort, and then she turned and cried on my shoulder.
We got all of the townspeople rounded up and in the jail. Afterward, Sheriff Mills started handing Sam and me guns from a cabinet. Then Sam and I handed them out to the group.
"All right, if we hand you a gun and you see a dead person, I don't care if it's your friend, your neighbor, or your wife, you shoot for the head. That's the only way we survive," Sam instructed.
"Uh, you mind telling us who the hell you are?" one of the men asked.
"Friends of Bobby Singer's," Sam said.
"Town drunk." The man scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"No, I— I thought..." Sam nodded toward Digger. "He was the town drunk."
"Who told you that?" the man asked.
Sam looked embarrassed. "Bobby Singer..." He cleared his throat. "Stay sharp." He turned to Sheriff Mills. "I'll watch the front door."
Sam and I kept watch over the front door for a while, but strangely and worrisomely enough, no undead were showing up. We tried to get a hold of Dean, Bobby, or Nate, but no one answered their phones. So, Sam, Sheriff Mills, and I made our way to Bobby's house, and sure enough, all we could hear inside were loud bangs. Quickly, we ran in and found a hoard of zombies breaking down a closet. The door burst open, and Dean and Nate started hitting them with the butt of his shotguns.
"Get down!" Sam shouted, then the three of us lifted our guns and started pegging off the hoard one by one.
Finally, the last zombie dropped, and we all took a deep breath.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked, and Dean nodded.
Later, when the sun started to rise, we all put together a huge funeral pyre in Bobby's scrap yard and brought the bodies to it. Then Sam and I set it on fire. A little ways away, in a more secluded area, we set up a smaller one just for Karen that Bobby was watching over by himself.
"Well, if there's any zombies left out there, we can't find them," Dean said as he, Nate, and Sheriff Mills walked up to us.
"How are the townspeople?" Sam asked.
"Pretty freaked out." Sheriff Mills shook her head. "Hell, traumatized. A few of them are calling the papers. As far as I can tell, nobody's believed 'em yet."
"Would you?" Sam asked her, and she shook her head. "How are you holding up?"
Sheriff Mills was silent.
Dean nodded to the pyre. "Is that everyone?"
Sam nodded. "All but one."
We looked over at Bobby, who was crying while watching Karen's pyre burn. We all turned to walk toward Bobby, but Nate and I fell back a little.
"This might be bad timing, but can I just say. You were kind of a badass back there," Nate said.
I smirked. "Thanks."
He shook his head. "No, thank you. Uh, you saved my life."
I shrugged. "You would do the same for me."
He nodded and smiled. "Yeah, I would."
We met up with everyone else and watched silently as the pyre burned in front of us.
"So, thinking maybe I should apologize for losing my head back there," Bobby said.
Sam shook his head. "Bobby, you don't owe us anything."
Dean shrugged. "Hey, look, I don't know squat from shinola about love, but... at least you got to spend five days with her, right?"
Bobby nodded. "Right. Which makes things about a thousand times worse. She was the love of my life. How many times do I got to kill her?" His voice broke.
"Are you gonna be okay, Bobby?" Sam asked.
Bobby was silent for a moment and then cleared his throat. "You kids should know... Karen told me why Death was here."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked.
"I know why he took a stroll through a cemetery in the sticks of South Dakota. He came for me," Bobby said.
"What do you mean, you?" Dean asked.
"Death came for me. He brought Karen back to send me a message," Bobby said.
Dean shook his head. "You? Why you?"
"Because I've been helping you, you sons of bitches. I'm one of the reasons you're still saying no to Lucifer, Sam," Bobby said.
"So, this was like a hit on your life?" Dean asked.
Bobby shook his head. "I don't know if they wanted to take my life or... my spirit. Either way, they wanted me out of the way."
"But you're gonna be all right. Right, Bobby?" Sam asked again but received no response.
