Dean Winchester kept his expression impassive as Chuck listed the items they were running low on.
"Toilet paper, antibiotics, painkillers and feminine hygiene products, are all in short supply," he recited, reading from his clipboard.
"Do we have enough to keep us going for a couple of weeks at least?" Dean asked. It was getting more and more difficult to find specific items; forcing the survivors to travel farther away from the camp in order to get supplies.
Chuck looked up and shook his head.
"Unless we want to start using our clothes to wipe with-"
"Okay, okay I get it," Dean interrupted.
"Sorry," Chuck muttered.
Dean ran a hand through his hair. Looking up at the sky, the sun setting rapidly, he made a decision.
"We'll send out a party first thing tomorrow morning to get supplies. It's too late to go now; it will be dark soon."
Chuck tucked his clipboard under his arm.
"Thanks," he said.
Dean nodded in response.
SPN
Sweat beaded on Sam's brow and dripped into his eyes. Wiping his forehead with his sleeve, he stumbled, nearly falling.
Weaving down the sidewalk, he knew he wouldn't make it much farther tonight. Turning, Sam staggered towards a house with its door hanging open, inviting him inside.
Pausing on the threshold, gripping the doorframe tightly, Sam listened for sounds of a disturbance from the building. The only sound the hunter could hear was the pounding of his own heart.
Throwing caution to the wind, Sam entered the house.
A powder room off the front hallway drew Sam's attention and he stepped inside; disappointed at the sight of the empty medicine cabinet. Bottles and boxes lay haphazardly in the sink and Sam pawed through them, hoping for Tylenol or Aspirin.
Laxatives, birth control, and allergy medication were all that was left.
"Shit," Sam swore and slammed the door to the medicine cabinet closed.
Maybe there was something upstairs, Sam thought and staggered down the hall, heading for the staircase.
Grabbing onto the banister, Sam lifted his head to peer up the staircase and a wave of vertigo nearly sent him crashing to the floor. Still holding onto the railing Sam turned in a dizzy pirouette and sat down on the bottom step.
Leaning over, Sam unwrapped the wound on his leg; the t-shirt brown with grime and dried blood. Hissing in pain, Sam peered down at his leg. The edges of the wound were curling up, away from the floss trying to hold it together, a smear of yellow pus leaked sluggishly from the wound and streaks of red radiated out from the gash.
Covering the wound again, Sam turned, on his hands and knees and began to climb up the stairs, gritting his teeth in pain as every movement jarred his leg.
Reaching the top of the staircase, Sam sank to the floor, panting with pain, sweat dripping off his face.
"Please," he muttered, "I just need a little something."
Not even sure he was talking to, Sam struggled to his feet and, hugging the wall, made his way down the hallway towards the master bathroom.
As he approached he could see that this room too had been plundered. Reaching the bathroom, Sam sank to his hands and knees once more.
"Please, don't let me die like this," he whispered.
Peering at the linoleum floor strewn with miscellaneous detritus from the bathroom, Sam's eye caught sight of a small, white, oblong pill. Blinking, he focused on the pill and saw that there were miniscule red letters on the pill.
Reaching out, Sam pinched the medicine between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it close to his face.
"Tylenol," he read and his heart leaped.
It might not be an antibiotic but at least it would help with the pain and fever.
Sam popped the pill into his mouth and began searching the floor for more.
Whomever had raided this house must have spilled the bottle as they rushed about; Sam found four more pills intact and a half-dozen that had been crushed to powder against the floor.
Deciding to save the pills he had, Sam put them into his pocket and decided that here was as good a place as any to rest. He could let the Tylenol he had taken start to work and then continue on to Camp Chitaqua.
Sitting against the tub, Sam unzipped his duffel and found his jar of peanut butter and plastic spoon. Opening the jar, Sam set the lid aside and dug the spoon in, scooping up a mound of peanut butter and popping it into his mouth.
SPN
Dean looked up at the sound of a knock at his cabin door. If it was Chuck again…
"Come in," he called and leaned back in his chair.
The door opened to reveal not Chuck, but Cas.
"Hey," Dean relaxed and smiled at the sight of his friend.
"Chuck said I'd find you here," Cas closed the door and stepped inside.
Cas spoke slowly and Dean could see his eyes were bloodshot. His smile faded somewhat; losing his grace had been hard on Cas and the former angel now spent most of his time getting high, styling himself as some sort of guru and having sex with any woman in the camp who fell for his charms.
"What can I do for you?" Dean asked carefully.
Cas stepped further into the cabin and sat down on the edge of Dean's bed, facing the hunter.
"I've been thinking," Cas said. Dean nodded, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of marijuana wafting off his friend.
"About?" Dean asked. Usually when Cas was high and had been doing some thinking, he came up with some hare-brained idea for the camp; like the time he wanted to turn the gardens into a pool, or when he decided he wanted to be the official masseur, as though this was some kind of spa.
"Do you think Sam's still out there somewhere?" Cas asked.
Dean's smile vanished altogether.
"Cas," he began but the former angel interrupted.
"I mean, you've survived this long, so it only stands to reason that Sam's alive out-"
"Stop," Dean said.
"-there and wandering around, maybe even looking for us."
"Cas, I said stop!" Dean growled.
"I know you two didn't part ways on the best of terms but-"
"SHUT UP!" Dean shouted, causing his friend to pause.
"I don't want to talk about Sam," Dean continued, his voice somewhat calmer.
Cas stared at him for a moment before standing up.
"Okay," he muttered, "Okay, I'm sorry I brought it up."
"Cas," Dean stood with the former angel and reached out, "I didn't mean-"
Cas waved him away and headed for the door. Before leaving, he paused.
"I just know that if it was my brother, I'd go to the ends of the Earth to find him."
The door closed gently and Cas was gone.
Dean stared after his friend for a moment before turning away and swearing.
"Son of a bitch!"
Author's Note:
I know I have been absent for a long time but I just want to thank everyone who has stayed patient and waited for me to return.
Please leave a review for this chapter and the next one will be up soon!