Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter, and I was genuinely overwhelmed by the number of PM's I was sent. I absolutely love to chat to you guys, you give me inspiration and keep me writing. So thank you to all my new FF buddies!

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Dawn Of The Winchester

Chapter Two: The New World

Twin Falls, Idaho — Hospital — Five Weeks Earlier

To say that Danielle Winchester didn't like hospitals was an understatement. A massive understatement.

The fact of it was, she hated them. More than anything. To her, a hospital only meant one thing; a hunt had gone wrong and one of them was in bad enough shape that they couldn't fix it between themselves. Knife wounds, bullets, concussions, even a few broken ribs, to them it was nothing that couldn't be solved by some motel room first aid and a bottle of whiskey to take away the edge, but sometimes it was bad enough that even that wasn't enough. Sometimes it was bad enough that they needed help.

Just the word hospital was enough to make her feel slightly queasy, and, not long ago when Sam had choked out the word while bundling their brother into the back of the Impala, urging her to drive, she had felt that familiar dread in the pit of her stomach.

And, yet, that wasn't even the worst part. It wasn't the panic or the fear that bothered her most. The thing Danielle hated most about hospitals was the waiting, not knowing if someone was going to live or die, the way she had felt ever since the day her brother had been admitted there.

Her mind wandered back to a couple of weeks earlier, when she had been standing in the waiting room doing all she could to remain inconspicuous, as though she could fade into the dull white walls behind her and somehow escape the looks of sympathy people just kept on throwing at her. But that time had passed. Now, she would have given anything to see a nurse or a doctor to give her some kind of news, but she knew that there were only three human beings left in the whole building, and she was one of them. There was no one left there to help them, only evil.

To her, a hospital was nothing more than a dismal and depressing place that no one in their right mind should want to spend any more time in than what was absolutely necessary. But this time it was different. This time, it was so much worse. Because she could still hear the last words the doctor had said to her before he had been killed right in front of her; I'm sorry, I can't tell you if he's going to wake up, but I'd prepare yourself for the worse. Everything after that had been death and blood and fear and panic.

That was the exact moment she saw the world crumble.

Danielle hadn't said a single word in almost an hour. Sam hadn't seen her move, hadn't seen her breathe, he hadn't even seen her blink. She looked vacant, empty, as though she had long since checked out of her own body. Her green eyes were fixed solely to her elder brother, and there was a blankness behind her stare that he just didn't recognize in her. In all the years that they had hunted together, in the lifetime he had known her, he had never seen her look so beaten, so hopeless, do despondent. One of her hands still held Dean's in a loose grip, and her thumb traced absently over the back of his hand, over and over, as though she believed he could feel her comfort. For all he knew, she did.

Eventually, after what seemed like a lifetime of her being locked away in her own thoughts, she sat back in her seat with a defeated sigh. She pulled a hand through her long hair and shook her head. He couldn't quite work out the look on her face, or what she seemed to be thinking so hard about, but there was something swimming in her green eyes that didn't fill him with confidence.

"I am not leaving him, Sam." she resolved, her words firm, determined, as though to deter him from arguing with her. "There's nothing more to talk about."

Sam shook his head at her, exasperated, and he pulled a frustrated hand down his face. They had been arguing about the same thing for hours, and he was getting nowhere. He looked back to their brother, and he knew he had to keep calm. He had been the same way for almost three weeks now, lying in a hospital bed and only breathing on the support of the many machines he was attached to. It was hard for both of them, and he knew what he was asking of her was way too much, but she didn't seem to understand it was the only way any of them could survive what was happening outside of that room. The reality hadn't seemed to hit her yet, or it had and she was simply choosing to ignore it. He couldn't decide. He wasn't sure she knew herself.

"Danielle, if you take him off that machine he is going to die." he told her bluntly. "There's no other way around this."

Her eyes flickered towards him, for the first time in a long while, angry and offended, and for a second he could have sworn that she was fighting back tears. "Then I'm staying." she concluded. She sounded tired, drained, as though she had long since given up on any idea of survival. "Simple as that. You wanna go, I won't stop you."

"The hell you are." he exclaimed. There was a frown on his face that dared her to challenge him, but she wasn't ready to back down, either. However tired she was, she was more than ready to fight him on it, and he was more than aware of that. "We need to leave."

"Sam, I said no." Her voice remained calm, collected, though the words were pushed out through gritted teeth, and he knew her anger wasn't going to stay so well hidden for much longer. "We can't just walk out and leave him like this. He won't last five minutes." She looked back to him, and she looked nothing but betrayed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? I am trying to keep you alive." he snapped, impatient. "What are you gonna do, huh? Sit here and wait to die yourself? Because, if you stay here, that is exactly what's going to happen."

Danielle thought on his words for a long moment, and she nodded slowly. "And if that was you lying in that bed, do you think Dean would be so ready to just run out and leave you there?" she challenged. "Because I don't."

"I think Dean would get you somewhere safe. Which, if you stopped acting so friggin' stubborn, you'd see that's what I'm trying to do." he countered, defensive. "Every minute we spend in this room we are drawing them here. We're putting him in more danger."

Danielle shook her head at him, despondent. "I can't leave him, Sam." she said quietly, her voice little more than a whisper. She knew deep down that he was right, but she couldn't bring herself to walk away from her own brother, especially in the state that he was in. She had spent almost every waking moment since he had been admitted to the hospital sitting by his side and waiting on him to wake up, how could she walk away from him now, after everything? It was dangerous, it was cruel, and she knew once they left that room there was a good chance they'd never see him again. Her gaze found his, and this time she couldn't hide the tears that glistened in the green depths of her eyes. "Don't make me do this."

It was a plea, and he sighed. He felt for her, he really did, and the last thing he wanted to do was leave his own brother, but he knew they had no choice. He knew that Dean would have told him the same thing had he been awake to do so. He knew what he had to do.

"I'm sorry for this." he told her simply, apologetic, genuine. "I really am."

Danielle looked up to him again, as though confused by his words, anticipating his next move, and he gave a sorrowful sigh. Nothing between them would ever be the same again.

Twin Falls, Idaho — Hospital — 19:03 PM — Present.

Dean stood there for a long moment, his gun aimed at the open doorway, ready to fire. But nothing happened. After reading his sister's note he had been more than expecting something to leap out and attack him the moment he had kicked it down, but he was met only with silence. He waited and waited as the dust seemed to settle, and he never heard a sound. Cautiously, confused, he stepped from the room, not sure what to expect, but the scene before him was something he could never have anticipated.

The hospital was nothing like he had ever seen before. It was abandoned. The lights were turned off, and it was hard to see much without the aid of any windows on the long corridors. Through the dim light he could make out the scattered papers covering the floor, the abandoned jackets on chairs, bags left as though they had been the last concern of whoever had owned them. It didn't make sense. What had happened there to make everyone run so fast, to make his siblings run so fast? He didn't want to imagine.

Wary, he walked the halls of the hospital in silence, and the only sound was the repeated thud of his boots on the hard floor as it echoed off the walls around him. The floor was stained with pools of blood, as were the walls, it was everywhere. The place looked like a murder scene. But something struck him as strange, among the gore and clear signs of attack, there were no bodies. There were no people. It was as though everyone had just vanished into thin air. How could a hospital be so void of life?

Way past the point of concern, and wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of that building, Dean ran down a flight of stairs. He came to a fire exit at the bottom, and he took a breath before he opened it and stepped outside. Despite the lateness in the day, the sun was bright in the sky above, and the warmth of the outdoors hit him immediately. The hospital had been cold, eerie, dark, but the outside was refreshing. Or so he thought. Because the cautious optimism had been extinguished almost as quickly as it had sparked.

There was still something wrong. Very wrong.

The scene before him was like something from a movie. There were dead bodies laying in the street and no one seemed to have given it a second thought. The streets were trashed. There were cars abandoned in the middle of the road, doors wide open and radios still sounding static over the street. He couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened there. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

There was no sign of life anywhere. Where the hell was everyone? Who was he supposed to be fighting? Or, rather, what? His sister had left a note to say she didn't know how many of them were going to be out there when he woke up, but how many of what? What had she been expecting him to find out there? And where were they? He continued on his way, unsure of where he was headed, unsure of where he was, and shook his head to himself, gun gripped in his hand. It occurred to him, he didn't even know the name of the town. Or, for that matter, the state.

Dean walked and walked, to where, he wasn't sure. He passed countless bodies on the street, each seeming bloodier than the last. It was congealed and cracked, and he knew that they had been dead for a while. He paused as he stumbled upon the body of a man, and he didn't look to be much older than himself. He lay on the road, his unseeing eyes stared up at the blue sky and were wide and filled with the fear of his final moments.

Blood covered his shirt, and, as Dean leaned closer, he saw the flesh of his neck appeared to have been ripped out. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn it looked like an animal bite. He found himself beginning to wonder if anyone had survived whatever had happened. But then his eyes fell to a man at the other end of the road. It was the first person he had seen since he had woken up, and he was more than prepared to ask him, a stranger, for some answers. He wanted to know what was going on, what had happened, and he wasn't going to be picky about where those answers came from anymore.

As Dean approached, he slowed down. There was something about the man, something about the way he walked. He dragged one leg along with him, as though it was broken, but it was like he hadn't even noticed. There was blood on the back of his shirt, and on the back of his jeans. He passed him, warily, keeping a safe distance between them, and frowned as he saw his face. His skin was withered and split, it almost looked as though he were rotting on his feet. His eyes were white, and Dean's were wide. He looked dead. For a moment, Dean considered the idea that he was.

"You alright, man?" he pressed, cautious, because he didn't like the look on his face on bit. "Dude? You hearing me?"

The sight of him seemed to spur the man on. His arms outstretched towards him and his pace quickened. He looked driven, determined. The gun was gripped in his hand, aimed at him and ready to fire, but he wasn't sure that he could do it. He didn't know what this thing was. For all he knew this guy was a human, just a sick human being. Or maybe he was the thing that Danielle had been warning him about? How could be be sure? What was he supposed to do? The man kept coming, and he wasn't slowing down. He had to do something, because he wasn't sure he liked to think what would happen should this man actually get his hands on him.

But before Dean had the chance to even think about pulling the trigger, something stopped him. Seemingly out of nowhere a man appeared behind the thing, and he sliced through it's neck with a machete. His face was calm, stoic, as though it was nothing out of the ordinary for him. Dean considered the idea that he was another hunter, that he knew something that he didn't. He stood and stared at him, shocked, not knowing what to say.

"You don't wanna shoot 'em." The man told him simply. "Draws too much attention. More will show. Before you know it you'll have an army on your ass." Dean narrowed his eyes, opening and closing his mouth, more than confused. "Hey, you okay, man?" he persisted, as though concerned, taking a wary step towards him.

Dean seemed to snap out of it, and he nodded. "Do you know what's going on here?" he pressed. "I mean, what the hell has happened?"

The man regarded him for a long moment, as if debating whether he could trust him. "You been bitten, kid?"

The comment took him by surprise, and he thought back to his sister's note. Don't let them bite you. He still didn't understand. "Bitten?" he frowned. "Bitten by what? What the hell is going on?" His eyes fell back to the body. "What are these things?"

The man frowned, studying him. "I think you need to come with me." he stated. "Before it gets dark. You stand no chance in the dark."

With that, the man turned from him and set off down the street. For a long moment Dean watched after him, debating the idea. What else was he supposed to do? He had no idea what had happened, what was going on around him, what these things were or what they wanted. This was the first real living person he had seen since he had left the hospital. Dean needed answers, he needed time to come up with a plan, and he needed a minute to sit and understand what he was going through. He saw no other option.

Despite what reason told him to do, and against all his better judgement, Dean followed him. To where, he didn't know.

Twin Falls, Idaho — 19:46 PM.

Dean followed the man through the streets in silence. Between him killing that monster on the road and them arriving back at his home, they hadn't seen much of anything. Or, anyone. There had been a couple of those things on the streets but the man had simply bypassed them, never saying a word and never looking back. He walked fast, determined. Dean wasn't sure why he hadn't killed them, if there was a reason behind it, but he didn't speak a word, he wasn't sure he was in a position to anymore.

The man knocked on the door of the house before them, a knock too random for it to have been random, and he waited. The lock on the other side clicked and the door was pulled open. Behind it stood a boy who didn't look to be out of his teenage years, maybe fifteen or sixteen. He was tall and thin, and he glanced between them, confused.

With a short nod of confirmation from the man before him, the boy stepped aside, and Dean followed him inside. The house was dark, and all the windows and other doors had been boarded up, the same as his hospital room had been. Whatever these things were, people seemed keen to keep them out. He noticed that the windows were painted over black, and no sunlight could get through them. The only source of brightness came from the few candles scattered around the room, and he found himself wondering if that was deliberate or out of necessity. Was it to stop the things outside from seeing in? Or to stop those inside from seeing out?

Dean didn't have time to dwell on the idea, because the man rounded on him. He set the bloody machete in his hand down on the table in the center of the room, and his eyes narrowed. "What's your name, son?"

It took him a moment to react, but Dean looked up to face him. "Dean." he stated simply. "Dean Winchester."

The man nodded. "I'm Mark." he introduced himself. The door behind him creaked, and they both turned at the sound. The young man who had opened the door to them stepped out, a young boy behind him. "These are my boys," He stepped towards them. He clapped the elder boy on the shoulder. "My sons, Nick, and this," He gestured to the younger boy. "This is Sam."

Dean smiled a little, somewhat awkward, because even he wasn't sure what he was doing there. "Hey."

They both nodded at him, seeming a little wary, and Dean couldn't blame them for a second. "Nick, take your brother upstairs." Mark instructed. Nick nodded, and without another word the two boys disappeared from sight. "So, what happened to you?" he pressed curiously. "How do you not know what's happening out there?"

Dean frowned, as though he wasn't sure how to answer. "I was in the hospital." He shrugged. "I woke up today. My room was boarded up, I don't even know how long I was in there." He thought back to his siblings. "Hey, do you have a phone I can borrow?"

There was a frown on his face at the question. "Son, there ain't no phones anymore. They're all down." The concern seemed to be increasing in him by the minute with every question he was asked. "You really have missed it all. What's the last thing you remember?"

Dean thought, hard. He searched the deepest corners of his mind, desperate. He didn't know. Had they been hunting something? They had to have been. Why else would they have been there? He tried to think, and something came to him. Demons. They had been tracking a demon. And they had found it. They had trapped it. He remembered the sound, the rattle of the spray can before he had drawn the trap out in red on the wooden floor. He remembered Sam chanting an exorcism, and he remembered Danielle screaming. Why had she been screaming? She had been looking down at him, shouting his name, her blonde hair hanging down over her shoulders and fear shining in her green eyes. That was all he could remember. He didn't know anything else. He remembered nothing more after that.

"June." he muttered, absent. "Beginning of June."

"Son, it's July eighteenth." he stated, eyebrows furrowed together.

"July?" He frowned, that couldn't be right. There was no way he had been out of it for so long. "What the hell happened?"

Mark shook his head, as if to say he didn't know where to start. "It started off small, you know? Few reports on the news of people going crazy, attacking people. They thought it was some kind of virus. But it spread, fast. And suddenly it wasn't something people were watching on the news, it wasn't something people were talking about at the store, it was on the street. It was on our doorsteps. They tried to quarantine it, but," He shrugged. "Didn't do no good. People couldn't escape the state. More and more people were getting bitten, and back then they weren't understanding what it meant. They'd go home, they'd turn, and they'd bite their families. It was like the end of the world out there. People running with nowhere to run to. That was about five weeks ago. Nothing out there but monsters anymore. Barely seen another human in weeks. Not until today. Everyone was either bitten or they're hiding out somewhere, waiting for it to pass. No one walks the streets much no more."

"Except you." Dean intervened. "You were out there today."

Mark nodded. "I go out now and again, looking for food, better shelter, other survivors." He studied him, eyes narrowed in curiosity. "You got much of a family, kid?"

Dean hesitated, and his eyes fell to the floor. "Uh, yeah." He nodded. "Kid brother and a little sister. I need to find them."

But Mark shook his head, remorseful. His eyes were soft, sympathetic, as though to say that he knew something Dean didn't. "Son, not many people made it out of the city." he said, apologetic. "Like I said, most of 'em were turned."

"You don't know them." Dean told him, defensive, because he wouldn't accept that. "They made it out."

"Yeah?" His eyebrows raised, and he couldn't understand his sudden confidence in the idea. "What makes you so sure?"

Dean looked up, and there was a much darker shadow behind his eyes. "I trained them." he said, blunt. "They're out there somewhere. I know they are." He glanced to the blackened window, curious. "You said it's worse at night?"

Mark seemed more concerned with his comment about his family, but he seemed to choose not to say anything, and he nodded. "Yeah. They seem, I don't know, quicker at night. There's more of them. I don't know why. I don't understand. But there's no electricity, no street lights anymore, it's harder to see them. All I know is that it's safer to travel by daylight. You wanna find your family, I understand that, and I wouldn't blame you if you left now, but you're welcome to stay here tonight and rest up."

Dean thought on it for a moment. It wasn't the worst idea he had ever been pitched. "Thank you." Mark waved him off as though to say it wasn't a big deal. He crossed the room and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a shelf behind the couch, picking up two glasses with it. "You been here since it started?"

"Yeah." Mark nodded, and he poured out two drinks, pushing one towards him. "People were fleeing the city, it was chaos out there. They were everywhere. I didn't wanna risk it." He paused, and his face changed. "And then..."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"My wife and daughter." He shook his head slowly, and he took a long drink from his glass. "My wife was bitten. We didn't know back then what it meant, we thought she'd just been attacked, that she was sick, we didn't know what had happened to her. It was the middle of the night, she was laying in bed, and she died. But then she came back, and she turned, she bit our daughter before I could lift a finger to stop her. After that, I didn't want my boys anywhere near those things. We waited it out, hoping they'd leave, that it'd pass, but it hasn't. My son is six, and he saw his mom and sister die right in front of him. He's seen too much already, they both have. I can't take them out there."

Dean shook his head. It was surreal. He struggled to process a clear thought. "I'm sorry."

Mark nodded slowly. There was a pain behind his eyes that Dean suspected would never go away. "For now, we're safe here. That's good enough for me. As long as my boys are safe, we're gonna stay." He looked back to him, curious. "You said you trained your brother and sister?" he pressed. "Trained them to do what?"

Dean gave a soft laugh and drank back his own whiskey. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." he muttered. "Or maybe, these days, you would. They're tough kids, both of 'em. That much I know."

"These days you gotta be." he offered. "Where are you gonna look for them? Do you know where they'd go?"

"I don't know." Dean admitted. "But I'll find them. If it's the last thing I do, I'll find them."