Ch 52
There was another big thunder storm the following night causing the windows to rattle so hard River was afraid they would shatter. The electricity was knocked out following a bolt of lightening so strong it wouldn't have been surprising if Thor himself threw it. The entire town was plunged into an eerie darkness. As if the storm wasn't bad enough, the earth decided to throw another temper tantrum. It was well after midnight when the ground started shaking. River skidded down the stairs almost running into Bobby where he sat in his wheelchair, frozen in place as his house shook on its foundations. Books fell from shelves, dishes and cups fell out of cupboards shattering into a million pieces on the kitchen floor, and a stack of crushed cars toppled over in the junkyard. River grabbed the handlebars of Bobby's wheelchair and limped them into the kitchen doorway. The rolling and shaking lasted for several long moments. "Now that was an earthquake," River smiled at Bobby once the ground stopped shaking.
He grumbled, "Keep yer god damn earthquakes in California." He rolled his wheelchair down the dark hallway under the stairs towards his room.
"I'll clean this mess up in the morning, Papa Bear. I can't see shit right now," River called out as she climbed tiredly back up the stairs to her room. The power came back on sometime after dawn. River didn't notice because for once she slept in; blankets pulled up over her head to block the sunlight peeking in through the thin curtains. When she did finally drag herself out of bed she heard muffled voices drifting through the vents in the floor. "Maybe Rufus is back," she thought yawning and stretching her stiff back. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and frowned at the 'NO SERVICE' signal flashing at the top of the screen. She staggered around her room, cellphone held out in front of her hoping to get at least one bar of reception. "God damn it," she muttered. "Fucking middle of nowhere hicksville." She tucked her phone into her pocket, crutches under her arms and headed downstairs. Faint humming drifted up the stairwell as did the scent of apples and cinnamon. "Papa Bear, you got any cell service? I think my phone crapped out." River called out to the humming voice in the kitchen. She gave a cursory glance around the sitting room and saw that the piles of fallen books had been picked up. "Hey, I told you I'd clean the mess up, " she said to Bobby as he rolled into the sitting room. He hastily closed the doors separating them from the kitchen. The humming voice continued from the other side of the door.
"Hey girl we gotta talk," Bobby mumbled. River looked down at him eyebrows raised questioningly; he had brushed his hair and was wearing a crisp dress shirt and clean slacks. Even his grimy wheelchair had been hastily wiped down.
"Who's in the kitchen?" River asked taking a deep breath through her nose, "And are they baking apple pie?"
The doors slid open and a smiling woman appeared. Her shoulder length blonde hair was twisted up out of her face. Her yellow and white gingham house dress was dusted with flour as were her pale hands. "Bobby, do we have any more vanilla?" She asked. River stared at the stranger for several tense seconds. The woman's face was friendly enough, her smile wide and inviting. But the tint of her skin was unnaturally pale tinged in jaundiced yellow.
"Who the hell are you? Bobby, who the hell is this?" River demanded. The woman dusted her hands off on her white apron and stepped forward.
"I'm Karen Singer, Bobby's wife," she said holding one hand out in front of her, the other she placed gently on Bobby's shoulder. River's hand tightened around the rubber grips of her crutches and she looked down to Bobby. Searching for some sign that this was a joke or maybe another Angelic dream. Karen's smile held fast. Bobby's eyebrows drew together tight lines appearing between them.
"River." To an outsider, Bobby's tone would have sounded firm but neutral. To those that knew Bobby Singer they would know he had just issued a warning: stand down and back off. A muscle in her jaw twitched, she flicked her blue eyes down to Bobby then back to the smiling woman standing next to him. "This is River McGregor, sweetheart. She's staying with me. With us, until her leg is healed. River shake my wife's hand. Don't act like you don't got any manners."
River wiped her sweaty hand on her shirt and shuffled forward. She grabbed Karen's hand in her own and grimaced at the cold flesh. Before Karen could withdraw her hand River latched onto it, crutches clattering to the floor as she used the first two fingers on her other hand to check the pulse in Karen's wrist. There was none. "You're dead." She stated evenly. It was not a threat but merely a statement of profound fact.
Karen's smile finally faltered. "I…I was. Bobby told me-"
"No. You are. You have no pulse. You're not breathing. You're room temperature. Your pupils are fixed and dilated. You. Are. Dead. And yet here you are walking, talking and baking apple pie." River said, her voice chipped and tight.
"That apple pie sure does smell amazing sweetheart. River, how 'bout you let Karen go get that pie outta the oven," Bobby said quietly. River released her grip on the dead woman and she retreated to the kitchen, sliding the doors closed behind her.
"What the fuck! What the fucking fuck, Bobby!" River hissed grabbing the collar of his dress shirt. "You gotta fucking zombie making baked goods and you let me sleep in!"
"Now you listen to me, girl!" Bobby warned in the same quiet tone, leaning forward and almost lifting himself out of his seat. "That is my wife! And I don't know how or why she's back but she is! And I'll be god-damned if you're gonna talk about her that way."
"That is not your wife! That is a zombie," River repeated picking her crutches off the floor. The humming started again and River looked towards the closed kitchen doors.
"River, there are zombies and then there are zombies. Karen…my wife, I killed her back before I knew all the things I know now. She was possessed and I killed her. And for some reason I've got her back and so help me if you try anything-" Bobby was cut off when Karen slid the doors open.
"Pie's done, So is the coffee. River would you like any?" she asked.
River took a deep breath. "No thank you Mrs Singer." She said before turning and stomping out of the sitting room. She headed towards Bobby's computer desk and the row of phones he used for his various aliases. She took each phone off their respective cradles (FBI, CIA, CDC, TSA) and was met with dull, crackling static. Next she turned on her lap top but got a connection error when she tried to log into her email. "Son of a bitch," she muttered angrily. River rubbed her eyes tiredly before setting sights on the dusty police scanner half buried under a pile of crumpled papers.
After retreating to her room to get dressed and grab a gun she hobbled her way out of the house. She commandeered a red pickup truck from Bobby's collection of vehicles and headed towards town. Her cellphone lay on her lap so she could check if the cell signal reappeared when she got closer to town. It didn't take long to find the culprit behind the lack of cell service that plagued Sioux Falls. The giant cell tower that had been half heartedly designed to look like a Ponderosa Pine tree now lay in a twisted, smoking heap on the edge of a new sink hole near Main street as did the remains of a couple telephone poles that were casualties when the metal tree had fallen. Yellow caution tape and several city vehicles were parked around the perimeter of the mess. River rolled down her window and yelled at the closest hardhat wearing individual, "What the hell happened?"
The man ambled up to her open window, "Damndest thing. Looks like it got struck with lightening and then that earthquake last night must've done some damage to it's foundation. Fried every telephone line in town."
River blew out an annoyed breath, a sick feeling of dread spreading through her stomach. "How long 'till it's fixed?"
The man sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "Week or so probably. We gotta get a crew together and ride over to the next town to call the state office for some assistance then we gotta wait for the state to bring us the equipment…" River rolled up the window waiving him away with an annoyed flick of her hand. She found a quiet dirt road to park the truck on and her bearings on the case. Because this was officially a case. They had too much going on, too many players to contend with to ignore dead wives rising and ungodly weather. She needed to gather facts and make a plan of attack. The phones were down. The internet was down. But she had Bobby's police scanner. She turned it on and dialed through the various channels listening for anything intriguing. "Sheriff Mills, this car 229 we got some reported disturbances at the cemetery," a tinny voice finally gave her something interesting to follow.
"This is Mills, 229. Go ahead and see what Mr. Johnson's complaining about now and report back." A woman's voice answered. River scribbled down a quick note and continued to listen. It wasn't long before the calls started to rack up. "This is car 317 we got a possible 187 at the trailer park. Looks like Roger Smith."
"Sheriff Mills, this is Deputy Hanson. Digger's says he saw Curt Winslow crawl into Roger's house last night through a broken window."
"This is Mills, you tell Digger I'm coming to interview him and he better be sober." Bingo, River thought to herself. She had a plan: head to the cemetery to see what the disturbance was, go check out the 187 and the witness then find out the last known whereabouts of the suspect. She drove back through town and parked at the cemetery. The muddy earth making the trek extra difficult with the crutches. She wound her way through the rows of graves noticing piles of disturbed earth until she came upon a patrol car.
"Digger, I don't know what you think you're playing at but I will not have you start rumors flying in my town," A female sheriff deputy stood in front of a young man. He was leaning lazily on a shovel and nodding his head.
"Jody," he started.
She held up her hand to cut him off, "Sheriff Mills."
"Sheriff Mills, they ain't rumors if they're true! I saw Curt crawl his muddy ass through Roger's bathroom window. My trailer is right next to his-"
"Curt is dead, Digger. Has been for five years," Sheriff Mills said.
Digger sighed, "What about the graves, Jody? I'm up to thirty-seven that's been messed with, the dirts all moved around. Including Owen's."
"Enough, Digger. I'm not gonna warn you again. You talk about this with anyone else and I'm gonna toss your ass in a holding cell," Sheriff Mills told him angrily turning away from the grave digger. River waited until the patrol car was out of sight before approaching the man. He eagerly ignored Sheriff Mills warning and spilled everything he had seen the night prior. Digger also took River on a tour of the disturbed graves and gave her information on the people that used to be buried there. She left the cemetery and drove back to Bobby's. He was exactly where she left him, sitting in his wheelchair watching his wife bustle around the kitchen. They talked and bantered as if she'd been gone to her mothers for a long weekend and not dead for thirty something years.
"Bobby, where's your satellite phone?" River asked.
Bobby spun his chair around, his eyes narrowed in distrust, "Why?"
"Cell towers out. We need back up. The Wonder boys gotta shag ass home." She replied. Bobby rolled out of the kitchen, ushering them towards the sitting room.
"What the hell you need back up for? Aint nothin' goin' on that you need to get those boys involved with." Bobby said crossing his arms over his chest.
River let out a short laugh. "Bullshit, Papa Bear. Thirty-seven graves have been disturbed." River pulled out a crumpled list of names from her jacket pocket. "I lived through shit like this. Remember? Zombies are like potato chips; you never have just one. Now, where's your god damn satellite phone?" Bobby reached into the side of his wheelchair and procured the requested phone. "Thank you," she said extending her open hand for it. Instead of handing her the phone he dropped it to the ground in front of his wheelchair then rolled over it. Crunching and grinding the phone until it was completely destroyed. River stared down at the now useless chunks of plastic. "Yeah, ok Bobby," she said quietly.
River limped out of the house and stood in the fresh air weighing her options. Her ankle itched, her arms were tired from dragging through the muddy graveyard and the sick feeling of dread and premonition rolled through her stomach. "Fuck this," River muttered as She limped down the wheelchair ramp and into Bobby's dank tool shed. After fumbling in the musty darkness she found the single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling and illuminated Bobby's collection of rusty tools. "Gabriel, if you can fucking hear me. Please don't let me cut my foot off," she prayed to her dead friend.
River sat outside Curt Winslow's home for several hours watching as the dead man played with his children, said grace before dinner and watched TV with his wife on the couch. Time ticked by slowly as the man went about his mundane life. She drove away before dusk and headed to check another name on the list: Mrs. Lana Smith, dead six years. Her husband still lived in the same home he had shared with her for the nearly fifty years of their marriage. River pulled up to the home and noticed its decrepit state; lawn overgrown, several rusted skeletons of cars sagging into the earth, front porch cluttered with boxes of junk. She raised her hand to knock on the front door before her eyes settled on the smears of blood around the doorknob. "Shit," she muttered. She turned the knob and was less than surprised to find it unlocked.
"Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Sheriffs department. Just doing a routine wellness check-" she called stepping into the home. She instantly felt bad for all the times she had called Bobby a hoarder. Bobby was a collector, albeit a disorganized collector. The Smiths were hoarders. Half rotten cardboard boxes lines the walls, mountains of newspapers, empty soda bottles and used adult diapers littered the ground. The air was suffocating with the sickening tang of trash, stale urine, human misery and underneath it all the sweet, metallic scent of blood. A wet cough echoed from behind a mountain of plastic trash bags. She pulled her pistol out of her belt loop and stepped towards the wet sputtering sounds. A frail, skeletal woman lay on a mound of dirty clothes. Her features sunken, eyes cloudy and blind, face marred with large rotting pustules.
"Mrs. Smith?" River asked, her voice unsteady. The woman beckoned River closer with one rigored, claw like hand. "No, nope. I'm just gonna stay here if you got something to say-ah shit! Bugs!," River jumped away from the pile of trash as a hissing cockroach the size of her fist landed on her shoulder. She furiously swatted at the bug taking her eyes off the supposed-to-be dead woman. Mrs. Smith emitted a wet, animalistic snarl and jumped towards River with a speed and strength belying her age and infirmity. She slammed into River and they both tumbled into the mountain of trash bags. The old woman's jaws snapped centimeters from River's nose, thick purulent sludge oozed from the dead woman's open mouth and dropped onto River's cheek. River gagged and used all her strength to keep the woman from sinking her teeth in to her throat. Her gun was gone, knocked out of her hand and buried beneath a pile of rotten food scraps. This dead bitch was stronger than any zombie River had tackled before. She kicked the woman off her with a grunt and scrambled to her feet, slipped on a puddle of blood and landed on the half eaten corpse of Mr. Smith . The dead woman fought her way from under the pile of trash and crawled towards River. The hunter quickly scanned the piles of debris for a suitable weapon. Her eyes settled on a half buried brass candlestick. River yanked it free and spun towards the dead woman. With a grunt she swung the candlestick at Mrs. Smith, connecting with the side of her head with a hollow thud. The thuds that followed weren't hollow but squelching wet as she caved the old woman's head in. "God damn, fucking zombies," she yelled disgustedly as the dead woman finally stopped moving.
River ran back to her truck and raced to Curt Winslow's home. Her heart thundering in her chest, he had kids and she left them because she got bored watching their white-bread life. The lights were off and the house quiet as the family inside slept. She grabbed her shotgun and her lock pick kit off the seat next to her. Her ankle twinged angrily inside her boot and she limped slightly as she headed towards the home.
After quickly picking the lock on the backdoor River snuck into the house. She found Curt's kids and wife asleep in their respective rooms. Apparently the dead don't need to sleep because Curt Winslow was standing in his kitchen staring blankly at the wall next to the refrigerator. A floorboard under her boot squeaked and Curt roused out of his stupor. "Who the hell are you?" he asked quietly, afraid to wake his family.
River raised her shotgun and flicked open her fake FBI agent badge, "FBI. You're under arrest for the murder of Roger Smith."
Curt sighed, "Well that son of a bitch had it coming!"
"How so?" she asked tucking the FBI badge back into her jacket but keeping the shotgun trained on the dead man. She took a tentative step towards the man. He hadn't gone full zurg and River wasn't about to shoot the man in front of his family if she could avoid it.
"He killed me first! Shot me in the back while we were out hunting deer!" the man yelled angrily. River retreated a step, warily watching the man for any signs he might attack.
"Curt…" a woman's tentative voice sounded behind them. River looked over her shoulder at Curt's wife, her soft blonde hair still tousled from sleep. "I-I called the police."
"Fuck," River muttered and lowered the shotgun as Curt walked towards his wife.
"It's ok, she's FBI. She's here about Roger. It'll be ok," he kissed his wife on the cheek and turned back towards River. "It's alright. I'm ready to go. I don't want my kids to see me in handcuffs."
"Uhhh….yeah ok," River pointed towards the front door. "You first." Curt led her out of the house and they walked down the driveway towards the red truck parked across the street. Two police cruisers screeched to a halt at the foot of the driveway; Sheriff Mills and a second officer jumped out with pistols raised.
"Drop the weapon!" Sheriff Mills ordered. River complied and gently set the gun down at her feet.
"Look this is all just a misunderstanding. I'm FBI and he's a zombie," River said as she slowly raised her arms over her head.
"I'm not a zombie! I'm a tax payer!" Curt said indignantly.
River looked at the dead man and shrugged her shoulders, "Hey, nothing personal man. But it's only a matter of time before you start eating peoples faces off. I'm just here to just make sure it's not gonna be those kids in there."
"Wait a minute…I recognize you. You're staying with Bobby Singer. I saw you two at Linh's last week," Sheriff Mills said tucking her gun back into her holster. "I should'a known. Is this one of Bobby's schemes? Huh? What were you going to do with Curt? Shoot him here in the driveway?"
River shook her head, "Bobby hasn't got anything to do with this and no I wasn't going to shoot him in the driveway. Give me a little credit. There'd be too many witnesses." Sheriff Mills nodded at her deputy and the man strode towards her. Very quickly River found herself in handcuffs and in the back of Sheriff Mills squad car. "You're making a big mistake here Sheriff. I have got a really bad feeling about this and I don't want anyone else to get hurt." Sheriff Jody Mills remained silent as she drove them away from the Winslow's home.
Jody's cellphone rang a few minutes later. She glanced over her shoulder at River who sat with her head resting on the window watching as the landscape grew familiar. "Hi, sweetie it's going to be a while until I get home. How's Owen," she asked the voice on the other line. Jody's eyes narrowed and she chewed her bottom lip instantly transforming from Sheriff to worried mom. River watched her reflection in the rearview mirror. "Well, if the fever's not better when I get home then we'll call Dr. Jones….is he hungry? Ok, well thats a good sign. I'll be home as soon as I can."
"Sounds like you got a sick kid at home, Sheriff." River commented after she ended the call. The folded lists of empty graves was still in her jacket pocket. 'Owen Mills' was the third name on the list.
Jody shot her a quick look in the rearview mirror, "You got kids?" River shook her head. "Maybe one day you will and then you'll know there is nothing in the world you can ever love more than your child. And you will cherish every moment with them."
River sat back against the vinyl seat, "I was going to be a mom…My sons were-" She paused and swallowed. "They died. I loved them…I loved them more than anything and I wanted them back. I want them back but they are gone and they aren't coming back. And that's something I've got to live with."
The patrol car rolled into the Singer Salvage yard just as the sun was rising. Jody got out and walked to Bobby's front door. River leaned as far forward as she could with her hands still cuffed behind her back and watched as Bobby answered the door and had a quiet conversation with the Sheriff. She saw Bobby nod and Jody walk back towards the patrol car. "Get out," she said opening the door. River shuffled out and waited as Jody unlocked the handcuffs. "I don't want to see you in town bothering any and I mean any of my residents. Do you understand?"
River nodded and rubbed her wrists, "Yes ma'am. I get it- Stay outta Sioux Falls, Lebowski."
Jody smiled, "As long as the Dude abides we won't have any more problems." River walked up the stairs towards Bobby and they watched as the Sheriff drove away.
"I can explain," she said turning towards the man in the wheelchair.
Bobby grunted, "I'm all ears."
"I went and checked on Lana Smith and she ate her fucking husband! And it's only a matter of time before the rest of them go feral-"
"Enough. I god damn warned you. There aint no case here. These people are good people and you were going to shoot one of them in front of his kids!" Bobby yelled.
River laughed, "Are you kidding me? Two people are already dead…. Why are you not getting this? The dead rising- this is not in any way a good thing."
"Why not? The Bible is full of scripture on the dead being risen. Why can't this be a good sign?" Bobby retorted.
River stomped her foot in annoyance, "Because when the fuck does anything good happen to any of us? This is going to go sour, Bobby. I know it! You don't understand-"
"I don't understand?" Bobby yelled, rolling his wheelchair closer. "I was killing monsters way before John Winchester dumped your ass at the Ranger station, girl. And I am warning you to stand down."
River shook her head, "I won't."
"Then git the hell out," he said lowly.
"What?"
"Get out. I'm not gonna have you in my house, around my wife, talkin' like that," he said.
River huffed in disbelief, "Your wife? Your wife is dead-" Bobby pulled a revolver from the side of his chair and cocked it. River stared at the gun blinking in shock. "Papa Bear?"
He waved the gun at her, "Go."
Atlantic city was not as entertaining as the brothers hoped. Sam got his wallet stolen by a couple of kids peddling bottled water. Dean lost way too much money at Blackjack then got food poisoning at the all-night buffet. "I can't get through to Bobby or River," Dean yelled to his brother through the bathroom door.
"Me either," Sam yelled back. The toilet flushed and Dean staggered out, one hand rubbing his gurgling stomach. "I'm not even getting a dial tone. It just beeps and then disconnects…." Sam muttered typing furiously into his laptop. "So get this-" he started.
Dean burped loudly and flopped back on his bed, "What?"
"There was a 6.3 earthquake centered about 10 miles outside of Sioux Falls two nights ago," Sam sighed closing his laptop and stuffing it back in duffle bag.
Dean shot up from the bed, "Shit."
"You want me to drive?" Sam asked as they walked down the rickety stairwell towards the Impala.
"Do I ever want you to drive?" Dean replied as they climbed into their car. The twenty hour drive took Dean a little over twelve. Sioux Falls appeared before them just as the sun crested the horizon. Dean barreled through town, taking the main street until it ended in the dirt road that led to Bobby's.
Bobby's wheelchair accessible van was parked in front of his house, the panel doors hanging open. The hard dirt ground around the van was splattered in rust color splotches. The van itself was covered in bloody hand prints. The brothers wordlessly pulled their guns out and headed towards Bobby's house. The front door hung on broken hinges, half the windows on the ground floor were broken inwards, pools of sticky reddish-black blood were soaking into the hardwood floors. "RIVER!" Dean yelled rushing further into the house. "RIVER! BOBBY!" The brothers took opposite ends of the house, Dean checking all the rooms on the ground floor and the panic room with Sam running upstairs. The reconvened in the sitting room finding no trace of Bobby or River. "Where are they? What the fuck happened?" Dean yelled. Sam shook his head, staring at the mess as if some clue would jump out at him.
"Dean, there!" Sam shouted, pointing behind his brother to the large window in the kitchen. A plume of black smoke had risen above one of the towers of junked cars. The brothers ran out of the house, through the winding paths of the junkyard towards the smoke. They found Bobby and River silently holding hands in front of a bonfire as flames engulfed a white sheet wrapped body.
"River! Baby what the- what the hell happened?" Dean yelled.
River jumped and spun around, her pale blood streaked face lighting up with relief, "Dean! Sam!" She ran the last few paces towards them and took turns giving them tight hugs. "I missed the fuck out of you two….Sorry, I'm covered in blood and zombie guts." She said wiping at the smears she left on their shirts. "It's been a hell of a couple of days."
"Zombies? What the hell happened?" Dean repeated. "Who is that?" He asked pointing to the body on the pyre.
River turned back towards the bonfire and Bobby's still form. "That's umm…that's-" She stammered and squeezed her eyes shut against the burning tears threatening to spill over.
"That's my wife," Bobby said quietly over the crackling flames. Sam and Dean looked down at River who nodded silently, tears smearing the streaks of grime and blood on her face. "You know why she's on that pyre and not in the urn I buried her in?" The older hunter asked turning his wheelchair around to face them. "Because Death decided to take a stroll through my backwater, hick South Dakota town."
"Death? The Horseman was here. Why?" Sam asked him.
"Because of you!" Bobby yelled. "Because of me helping you! I'm trying to keep you two sons of bitches from saying yes and finishing the Apocalypse. This was a message. A warning to me for what's coming."
"Bobby-" Sam started.
Bobby held up a hand to silence him, "I just need a few more minutes with my wife if ya'll don't mind." The three younger hunters nodded and left Bobby to grieve in peace.
"What the hell happened to your cast?" Dean asked.
She laughed, "I cut it off with a buzzsaw. It's only two weeks early. I feel fine." River led the brothers back to Bobby's house filling them in on the last three days events. "They weren't like regular zombies, if there's such a thing," River told them. "They talked, they had memories and then they went crazy and tried to eat everyone." She sighed loudly when they reentered Bobby's house, the horror scene in front of them that needed to be cleaned was another twenty pounds of exhausting weight on her shoulders. "Fuck. I still gotta go check on Jody," she murmured twisting her hair into a tight bun on the top of her head.
"Who's Jody?" Dean asked as he and Sam righted Bobby's overturned desk.
"Sheriff Jody…her boy Owen was one of the one's that came back," she paused again. "He…I was too late, he attacked her husband. I need to make sure she's ok. She helped me save everyone and put down the dead."
"No, you need to take a shower and eat something. I'll clean up down here. Sam will check on the Sheriff," Dean told her.
Sam nodded , "I'll go. Riv, you've done enough. Get some rest." River nodded gratefully and gave him the Sheriffs address. She started a pot of coffee and stood staring out the kitchen window watching the smoke from Karen's funeral pyre.
"You all right sweetheart?" Dean asked wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her towards him. River chewed her bottom lip nervously and turned around to face him. She ran her hands through his hair and stood on her toes to kiss him. "I had a dream a couple nights ago," she told him quietly. "Care of Zachariah…" she let the Angels name hang in the air for a moment.
Dean sighed and closed his eyes, "What did he show you?"
"Detroit. Couple of months from now," she answered. "The big Archangel showdown. Michael versus Lucifer. You said no and Lucifer won… because Sam said yes."
Dean ran his hands down the sides of his face, "I know. Son of a bitch showed me the same thing. 'bout five years from now the whole planets screwed, overrun with 'Croats."
"With what?" she asked.
"Croatoan virus. Demon-zombie virus thats gonna get let loose if we don't fucking stop Pestilence." Dean answered. The coffee pot beeped and at the same time Bobby trundled up the ramp and continued to his room without saying a word to either one of them.
"All this shit…it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you and Sam don't say yes. No matter what," River told him.
Dean sighed, "It's not on my agenda, Princess."
She looked at him for several long seconds then smiled, "How about having sex with me in the shower? Is that on the agenda?"
He furrowed his eyebrows as if searching his memory for an important meeting he might be missing, "You know I think I can squeeze you in right between de-zombiefing Bobby's house and getting the hell out of South Dakota."
Authors note: Thank you to everyone reading and following. Please review. Let me know if your hating it or whatever. This is really a monster. But I love it.