Five Seconds Later

Chapter Four: The Apocalypse

When Cas returned, his lungs still in immense pain, Dean was sitting up against the tree where he had been left. In his hand was the knife that Cas had left behind earlier, and his forehead was beginning to sport a blossoming bruise beneath the drying blood.

"Hey." Dean glanced up when Cas entered his line of sight, looking away soon after as he fiddled with the knife. Cas tried to tune into Dean's thoughts, which was easy, given the man's intoxicated state. It appeared that Dean was picturing Cas back in the Impala, a warm, heavenly glow radiating around the angel's body as they talked. Little holographic hearts buzzed around the car, discarding themselves on a sleeping Sam once they were done with their rotation.

"Cas?"

Cas glanced back at Dean, tugging at the tie around his neck in an anxious fashion. 

"What happened?" Dean's thoughts turned bright red, as did Cas' face. He snapped out of Dean's mind just as quickly as he had entered, to avoid letting him notice.

"Well, we switched so I could drive and..." Cas looked down, focusing on the ground to avoid looking Dean in the eyes. "I mean, I wasn't... I didn't... okay... well, I kind of crashed the car..."

"WHAT?" Dean's eyes began to water, and the usually stoic man sat back against the tree, his fists clenched with rage around the knife he was holding. There was a brief moment of agonizing silence before he whispered, "Is she okay?"

"The car?" Cas tried to read into Dean's thoughts again, but it was impossible - now he was being blocked off. "Uh, yeah. Definitely."

"Liar." Dean said, his face red with anger. "Let me see her."

"We can't get over there right now." Cas tucked his hands into the pockets of his trench coat and shrugged absentmindedly. "You can't walk anyway."

"Sure I can." Dean was still reclined in his basic sitting position as he said this, his head resting against the bark of the tree.

"I wouldn't like to test that theory." Cas frowned, suddenly hearing a branch snap behind him. He whipped around, the gun immediately drawn from his pocket, but it was only Sam. He looked wearied - there was a scratch on his face below his cheekbone and it was bleeding profusely, and he was limping.

"How is everyone doing?" Sam set the duffel bag that had been looped around his shoulders against the ground and crouched next to Dean, surveying his brother's wounds. "Not too bad, I hope."

"I can't breathe properly, but I suppose in the grand scheme of things, that's not so bad." Cas took another breath, this one shallow, but it hurt as bad as a deeper one he had taken ten minutes ago. "I also have multiple abrasions on my face and arms."

"I-" Dean scratched his head, and drew his hand away with blood from the wound. "I don't know."

Sam sighed, standing and walking over to Cas. "How many bottles did he have?" he asked, checking the ammo inside of the rifle he was carrying.

"I'm not sure." Cas glanced at Dean, looking him up and down. "More than enough. There weren't many bottles left in the cooler. I'm surprised we didn't crash until I took the wheel."

"I'm not." Sam checked his watch, then glanced back at Cas. "There's probably about-"

The growling from the creatures before sounded, this time from just behind them. Cas turned readily, but Sam was slower in his reaction, fumbling with his rifle. One of those beasts was there, stumbling toward them in the dark with one severed arm and its head nearly torn off by some prior show of force. It reeked of death and rot, filling the small clearing with its stench.

"Sam, watch out!" Cas stepped forward and slashed at the creature, which clacked its teeth menacingly and attempted to bite him. He deftly pierced its skull and stepped back as soon as it had slumped to the ground.

"What the heck are these things?" Sam set the duffel bag down and grabbed the monster's left leg, preparing to drag it away. As he pulled on it, the leg tore away, leaving behind a bloody mess. 

"Are they any kind of creature we know?" Cas awkwardly rubbed his knife against the denim of his jeans.

"I mean..." Sam knelt by the fallen beast, surveying it. "Look at this. Its flesh is rotten, so it's obviously dead... and its leg tore off so easily..."

"A zombie, maybe?" Dean suggested drunkenly from behind them, stabbing the knife he was holding into the earth beside his leg.

"He has a point." Cas admitted, crossing back to the other side of the clearing to snatch the knife away. "But three in one night?"

"We killed one a while back by burying it in its own grave, but these ones are killed by bullets to the head. It's not any zombie I know." Sam murmured, unzipping the duffel bag and beginning to sort through it for ammo to refill his rifle with. 

"We'll make plans tomorrow morning - for tonight, we need to sleep." Cas decided, sheathing the knife that Dean had been messing around with and giving the clearing one last survey. "I'll stay on guard for the first shift, if you would like." 

"That'd be great, Cas." Sam nodded in appreciation and closed up the duffel bag before making his way over to a nearby tree and propping himself up against it. He laid his rifle against his chest and leaned back, closing his eyes. 

"Goodnight, Sam." Cas called out, moving to stand between the two men so he could keep them safe while they slept.

"Goodnight, Cas."