Shelter

Dean tucked the afghan tightly around his brother, brushing Sam's bangs off his brow as he did so. The knot on the younger boy's temple was still as ugly and purple as it had been two days prior. His chest rose and fell with steady, shallow breaths but he did not open his eyes.

Sitting back on his heels, Dean wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, swiping away the stinging sensation in them. Crying like a baby wasn't going to help Sam. If he could just keep his brother safe, warm, he was certain everything would be okay.

Dean's stomach grumbled and he stood, intending to go to the kitchen of the little abandoned house they were in, when he froze, the sound of cracking wood driving all thoughts of food from his mind.

On silent feet, Dean crossed the floor to the bedroom door and eased it closed, holding his breath as he did so.

Was it the dead? Or the living? Either way, Dean knew he and Sam were in danger.

Returning to his brother's side without a sound, Dean picked the pistol up from where it lay on his backpack and thumbed the safety off, pointing it towards the closed bedroom door.

Dean could hear footsteps slowly approaching the room where he and his brother hid.

Don't worry Sammy, Dean thought, I won't let anything happen to you.

SPN

Rick, Daryl and Glenn approached the house with caution.

"What do you think? One more before we head back?" Rick asked his friends.

"I'm game," Glenn replied with a smile; Daryl nodded.

The house was small, ranch-style, with a stone walkway that led to a front door that had been covered by a large piece of plywood haphazardly nailed to it. Someone, perhaps the previous house's owners had used red spray paint to scrawl the words ALL DEAD HERE across the plywood board.

Daryl sidled up to the door and was able to squeeze his fingers between it and the board covering it.

"Give me a hand," he grunted, tugging at the plywood. Rick holstered his gun and went to help Daryl while Glenn covered them, keeping an eye out for Walkers approaching from the street.

With the screech of rusty metal and crack of splintering wood, the men were able to reveal the door.

Easing the piece of plywood to the ground so as not to make any more noise than necessary, the trio turned their attention to the front door.

"Think it's empty?" Glenn asked.

"We made enough noise moving this," Daryl replied, kicking at the piece of plywood, "You'd expect any Walkers to come running as if we just rang the chow bell."

"Still, be careful," Rick said.

Gun in one hand once again, Rick backed up a few paces and kicked the door just under the handle, once, twice, three times until the wood splintered.

Shoving open the door, Rick saw the house was still quiet and dark. No Walkers lurched out of the shadows at them.

"Okay, let's make this quick," Rick told his friends and stepped inside.

SPN

Beads of sweat coated Dean's brow as he waited for the bedroom door to open. He knew it was going to happen, he just wasn't sure when.

He had heard low voices accompanying the footsteps and knew that it wasn't Walkers that had broken inside, but living people and somehow that was worse.

Glancing quickly over his shoulder, Dean saw that Sam remained asleep, completely unaware of the danger they were in. There was a window directly above the younger boy and any other time, Dean would have broken it and escaped with his brother but he couldn't with Sam the way he was right now and there was no way he'd abandon his sibling.

Returning his attention to the door, Dean grew very still as footsteps paused just outside and the handle began to turn.

SPN

Glenn threw open the foyer closet and revealed only coats and shoes without owners. Lowering his weapon, he began rifling through the shoes to see if he could find anything that might be useful.

Daryl moved forward, heading towards the kitchen.

"Hey Rick," he called, "I think someone's been here."

"What?" Rick asked and followed Daryl into the kitchen to find cupboards and drawers standing open. Boxes and jars, both open and untouched were strewn across the floor and the countertops.

"Looks like someone was looking for food," Daryl said and picked up an empty box of Ritz crackers from the sink.

"Keep your eyes open," Rick suggested, "I'll see what I can find."

Daryl nodded and began going through the cupboards himself.

"Everything okay?" Glenn asked, slipping a pair of tennis shoes into the duffel bag he hung over one shoulder.

"We may not be alone after all," Rick replied quietly.

"Walkers?" Glenn asked but Rick shook his head.

"Friendly?" he asked again.

"Don't know," Rick shrugged, "But you know the drill."

Glenn nodded and covered Rick as he headed down the hallway.

They stopped in front of an open bathroom door; Glenn sweeping the entrance with his gun before stepping inside and pulling aside the shower curtain to reveal an empty tub.

"I'll see if there's anything in here we can bring back," Glenn told Rick and he nodded his approval.

Continuing on, Rick took note of the other open doorways in the hallway; all but one.

He didn't need Daryl's tracking skills to figure it out; whoever had ransacked the kitchen was hiding just beyond this door.

Gun raised but finger off the trigger, Rick reached forward and gripped the doorknob, turning it slowly.

SPN

The bedroom door swung open quickly to reveal a bearded man in a tan coloured uniform. The man had a gun and it was pointed right at Dean.

"Stay back," the boy warned, raising his weapon to aim it at the man's chest, "Or I'll shoot."

The stranger raised his hands.

"It's okay," he said quietly, calmly, "I don't want to hurt you."

Dean didn't lower his weapon.

"Are you alone?" the man asked.

"My parents will be back any minute," Dean replied, a little too quickly, but he hoped the man wouldn't notice.

"Rick! What's going on?" Another man's voice approached and Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Glenn, lower your gun," the man, Rick, Dean guessed, called to his friend without looking away from him.

A young Asian man appeared in the doorway beside the first man and slowly pointed his gun at the ground.

"We don't want to hurt you," Rick said, "Can you put your gun away?"

Dean shook his head even though he knew he had no chance against both men if push came to shove.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"We were looking for supplies," Rick told him, sounding truthful, "We didn't know you were in here."

"You can't take our stuff," Dean told him.

"Is that your brother?" Rick asked, only his eyes moving to take in Sam's form behind Dean.

"Yeah," Dean said, "And our parents are going to be back any time now, so you better get out of here."

Ignoring Dean's words, Rick continued, "Is he sick?"

"No, he's just sleeping," Dean lied, "Now go away!"

The look on Rick's face told Dean he didn't believe the lie.

"Did he get bitten?" the other man, Glenn, asked.

"No," Dean replied, "We were running from some dead guys and Sammy fell and hit his head."

"Can I take a look at him?" Rick asked, "Look, I'll even give my gun to Glenn."

Dean was surprised the man did as he said, handing his weapon to Glenn and took a cautious step into the bedroom.

"I used to be a police officer," Rick explained, taking slow, cautious steps into the room, "I know some First Aid."

Dean hardly noticed the man had made it almost halfway into the room.

"O-Okay," Dean said, trying to sound as though he had meant to let Rick come so close, "But no funny business. If I think you're hurting Sam I'll shoot you."

"Rick-" Glenn began from the doorway but the ex-cop held up a hand, "It's alright, Glenn."

Keeping his gun trained on Rick, Dean allowed the man to approach his brother.

"You said he fell and hit his head?" Rick asked and knelt down beside the boy.

"Yeah," Dean replied.

"When did that happen?"

"Two days ago, I think," Dean thought for a moment, "Not that long ago."

"Has he been like this ever since he fell?" Rick asked, and reached out a hand and pressed it against Sam's throat to check his pulse.

"No, not right away. He hit his head and I got him back up and we can into this neighbourhood. I found this house and we snuck inside. Sam said he had a headache and he threw up and when we went to sleep that night he… he didn't wake up in the morning."

As he spoke, Dean lowered his weapon until the muzzle was pointed at the ground.

"Is he going to die?" he asked Rick.

"I don't know," Rick replied, "But he needs medical attention if he's been like this for two days."

Dean nodded, "I know."

Taking his attention from Sam, Rick carefully reached out and took the gun from Dean's hand. He didn't resist. If Rick and his friend wanted to kill him and Sam, they could have done so at any time.

"I'm scared," Dean admitted, "I don't know what to do."
"Listen, when your parents return, we can all go to our community. It will be safe for all of you and your brother can get help."

Dean shook his head, tears stinging his eyes as they had earlier.

"We don't have any parents," he admitted, "They're gone."

Rick sighed, "Okay, you and, Sammy, was it? You two can come with us. We won't hurt you."

Dean bit his lip, thinking. He wanted to trust Rick, knew that he should be able to, especially since he used to be a police officer, but the world had gone so crazy since the dead had started attacking, that people Dean thought he could trust were actually dangerous.

"We have a friend named Hershel who can help your brother," Rick continued.

Dean was still reluctant. Sam was the only thing he had left and if he lost his brother…

"I have a son around your age," Rick told him, smiling, "His name's Carl, I think you'd like him."

Dean looked up, "Really?"

Rick nodded, "He's a tough kid, just like you."

"You swear you're not going to try anything?" Dean asked and Rick put his hand on his chest, "You have my word as a police officer."

"Okay," Dean replied, "But can I have my gun back?"

Rick nodded, putting the safety back on and handing the weapon to Dean.

Rick remained crouched by the brothers and spoke again.

"My friend Daryl can carry your brother, okay?"

Panic rose up in Dean momentarily when a third man appeared in the doorway and he made to raise his gun again.

"Easy does it," Rick reached out and pushed gently on the muzzle of the weapon until it was aimed harmlessly at the floor, "Daryl's not going to hurt your brother."

Dean swallowed, "Okay."

The eldest Winchester did not take his eyes from Daryl as he approached Sam and picked him up, blanket and all, cradling the young boy against his chest.

Rick helped Dean pack the boys' meager possessions in a single backpack before leaving the bedroom.

Dean remained close to Daryl and his brother, looking up at his brother's prone form every minute or so.

The small group exited through the front door and headed down the street, Glenn and Rick flanking Daryl and the unconscious boy protectively.

"Hey kid, what's your name?" Daryl asked Dean in his quiet, slightly raspy voice.

"Oh, I'm Dean," the boy replied, surprised to be asked such a question.

Daryl smiled down at Dean and the boy found himself smiling back.