Chapter Text
Ben was laying on the couch in his childhood home. He was awoken by the front door being opened and the sound of his father talking on his phone. Saying, “I don’t know, have you heard from Adam?” and, “Yeah, go give him another call.” But Ben didn’t really process any of it. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up.
“How’s mom?”
Dean shot his attention to his son, the light from his phone casting harsh blue light in the near darkness. “What are you doing up? It’s late.”
“Oh crap, is it?” Ben turned to look at the clock. It was only 11:52; he still had time. He pulled a small box from under the cushion as Dean sat down on the couch next to him, his hand rubbing away at his tired features.
“Here,” Ben extended the box out to his father.
Dean let his hand fall from his face, “What’s this?” he took the box.
“It’s still your birthday, innit?”
Dean smiled as he opened the gift and saw a new watch, “How… how did you afford this?”
Ben sat back with a smile, “Drugs. I sell hardcore drugs,” He joked.
“Wow, twelve-year-old drug dealer,” Dean put the watch on. “Oh… I think,” he raised the watch to his ear, “I think it’s busted.”
Ben rushed to Dean’s side and took his wrist, “No, no, it can’t… Oh, ha-ha.” He dropped the wrist that had the working watch on it.
Dean laughed at himself.
“You’re so mean,” Ben rolled his eyes.
“Look. I love it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Dean swept the remote off the coffee table, “I’ll never take it off.”
“You better not,” Ben said as Dean flipped the TV on.
Ben laid down on the couch and watched the old show with his father.
A phone rang which caused Ben to startle awake. He rubbed his eyes and saw he was in his room, in his bed. He must have fallen asleep on the couch again.
Ben leaned over to his nightstand and picked up the landline. “Hello?”
“Hey, Ben—”
“Uncle Sammy? What—what time is it?”
“Listen, Ben, I need to talk to Dean. Right now. Okay, buddy?”
“Why didn’t you call him?”
“I tr—"
The line clicked then went dead.
Ben looked at the phone with concern contorting his tired features. He set the phone back on the charger then stood and walked out to the hall, “Dad?”
Ben trudged along the way towards his parents’ room. He could hear the sound of their TV and could see the blue light filtering through the bottom of their door.
“Dad?” He opened the door and found the room empty. “Where the heck are you?”
He looked around with his brows knit together, then brought his attention to the television, which had someone talking about the outbreak that was happening — supposedly — worldwide. The news host was talking about the hospital that was in the near city.
“That’s were mom is,” Ben mumbled to himself.
“We’ve received reports that victims afflicted with the Infection have shown signs of increased aggression and—”
The TV went staticky.
BOOM!
Ben jerked then looked out his parents’ bedroom window. He saw a cloud of smoke in the sky that glowed from underneath as if a fire was raging; it was coming from the city.
Ben rushed out of the room and to the stairs. “Dad?” he called, more urgently. Ben raced down the steps just as several police cars screamed past the front of the house; the lights from on top of the cars streaked in through the blinds and cut into the livingroom.
Ben made his way to the kitchen where his father’s phone lay untouched on the counter. He picked it up and read the texts from his uncles aloud, “’Where are you?’… ‘Are you coming?’…’Pick up’…’I’m on my way’?”
Ben set the phone down, feeling a cold chill go down his spine. Well, at least his uncle Sammy would be there soon. That gave him a bit of comfort in his confusion.
Ben walked towards his father’s office. His eye caught something moving and he shot his attention out into the backyard through the sliding door of the kitchen. His breathing became heavy with trepidation. He strained his eyes, but he only saw his tire swing rocking back and forth, as if something had bumped it.
The door to his father’s office swung open. Ben sucked a gasp but calmed upon seeing his dad. Dean quickly locked the door he came in from, his revolver in his hand. He was covered in something red.
Ben made his way into the office, “Dad! Dad—”
“Shh, shh,” Dean rushed to Ben and took his shoulders.
Ben looked down at Dean’s shirt then back up at him, “You—you’re covered in blood.”
Their neighbor smacked against the closed door and banged on it, again and again and—
“Troy!” Dean shouted at the man as he shielded Ben behind himself, “Just stay back. I’m warning you!”
“Dad—?”
The glass broke and their neighbor crashed in with an unnatural grunt.
“Don’t!” Dean yelled.
The neighbor got to his feet lunged at them.
Dean shot at Troy several times as Ben covered his ears.
Ben looked up and his neighbor was lying on the floor unmoving, blood pooled thickly around him.
Dean took Ben and led him away, “Are you okay? Has anyone come in the house? Have—have you gone outside?”
“You—you shot Mr. Baker.”
“Ben—”
“I saw him this mornin’.”
“Listen to me, something bad is going on. We gotta get outta town.”
Just then, headlights shone into the house from their driveway.
“Come on, that should be Sammy.”
Dean grabbed his phone and led Ben outside.
“Why won’t you answer your damn phone?” Sam stood outside of his running car.
“Just get in the damn car,” Dean said to his brother.
Ben hopped in the backseat and looked around the dark Texas night.
“How ya’ doing Ben?” Sam asked as he backed the car out of the driveway.
“I’m okay.”
“Go left,” Dean said.
“What?” Sam turned to his brother, “What about Lisa?”
“She was in the hospital because she got sick… she got the sickness, Sammy.” Dean looked out the window, “They wouldn’t even let me into the hospital this mornin’.”
“Oh, shit,” Sam sighed.
“Wait,” Ben grabbed the back of his father’s seat, “We’re not getting Mom?”
Dean met his brother’s eyes then dropped his gaze.
“We’re just getting you out of the city right now.” Sam looked up at Ben through the rearview mirror.
Ben leaned back and quietly looked down at the seat. Something was terribly wrong, and Ben could feel it.
“Can we listen to the radio?” Ben asked.
“Sure,” Sam clicked the radio on.
“Thanks…”
The radio only hummed.
“No radio. No cellphone. Yeah, we’re doin’ great.” Dean awkwardly pushed his phone back into his pocket.
The ride was mostly silent, until they passed one of their neighbors’ houses, which was completely engulfed in flames.
“You think they made it out?” Ben asked hopeful.
“I’m sure they did,” Dean said.
“Should we help?”
“We gotta keep moving.” Dean said. “We’re not stopping.”
Ben just watched as they passed; the lights from the flames pouring over his features.
“Oh great,” Sam said as the car came to a stop.
Ben shot his attention back to the front. The way to the highway was completely backed up and hardly moving.
“I guess other people had the same idea,” Sam said as he faced his brother.
“Yeah,” Dean grumbled.
A man — dressed in a hospital gown — ran to one of the stopped cars, and, before Ben could really process what was happening, the man began attacking the driver; blood splattering over the windows. Before anyone even screamed more people were running into the road, all dressed like they came from the hospital.
“What’s he doin’?” Ben called out in alarm.
“Sam, back the hell up! Get us out of here.”
Sam flipped the car into reverse and flipped around in his seat as he stepped on the gas.
One of the people in hospital gowns began running to the car, and Ben slumped down in his seat.
Sam spun the car around and sent it down the road just as the man smacked against Ben’s window. Ben yelped.
“What’s wrong with them?” Ben's voice shook.
“They’re just sick,” Dean said, “really, really sick. Stay away from them, okay?”
Ben nodded as he looked around, checking every window as they drove into town.
Ben shot his head to a fast-approaching light.
“Sam!”
A truck, completely engulfed in flames, rolled down a hill and t-boned Sam’s car, sending it spiraling. The car flipped and spun with all the passengers being jostled and tossed.
[ ... ]
Dean’s head buzzed as he opened his eyes. His hands were hung over his head; the car had flipped upside down. He turned and found Sam missing from the driving seat, then he turned his head towards the back, “Ben?”
“I’m okay,” Ben gasped.
“Just stay where you’re at,” Dean unbuckled himself and fell to the roof with a grunt. He kicked at the window shield until it budged from its lining.
Dean climbed out and looked at the utter chaos that consumed the street he once called home: burning shops with nearly every window smashed. Screams coming from every direction as people ran through the street.
He reached back into the car and gestured for Ben to come.
Ben got out then stumbled into his dad.
“You okay?”
“My leg. It hurts. Bad.”
“Alright—”
Dean was grabbed from behind and tugged to the ground by one of the hospital sickos.
“Stop it!” Ben shouted.
“Get off of me,” Dean said through his teeth as the man clacked his jaw like a wild dog.
The man was whacked from behind and slumped forward. Sam tugged the man off of Dean then extend his hand out to his brother.
“Thanks,” Dean took his hand and was hauled up.
Sam shrugged breathlessly.
“Here,” Dean handed Sam his revolver, “Watch my back.”
Sam nodded as Dean picked Ben up.
Dean led the way out of town; walking soon followed by running. A large group of patients, nurses, and doctors ran rampant in the streets and began chasing the healthy, including the brothers.
“Keep going!” Sam ordered as Dean ran through the back door of the old bar.
Sam slammed it shut but couldn’t manage to latch it from the Infected people pushing and shoving at it.
“Go!” Sam yelled to Dean
“I ain’t leaving you—”
“You got Ben. I can outrun ‘em! Now, go!”
“I’ll meet you at Adam’s.”
“GO,” Sam demanded.
Dean carried his son out of the back door of the bar and headed straight to the highway, towards his half-brother’s house in the suburbs.
“We can’t just leave him,” Ben said.
“He’ll be okay,” Dean said, trying to keep his mind focused on Ben instead of worrying about his brother.
Dean rushed down an embankment and made his way towards the road. He spotted a spun-out car, then noticed another one of the psychos.
“Shit,” Dean tightened his hold on his son and ran. He ran as fast as he could, yet the grunts of the psycho got closer, and closer—
Gunshots rang out from a machine gun and the psycho fell down silently.
Dean spotted the soldier that saved them; covered in full military gear and a gas mask.
“It’s okay,” Dean said to Ben, “We’re safe.”
Ben nodded microscopically.
Dean looked up to the soldier, “We need help. I think he broke his leg.”
“Don’t move,” The soldier demanded.
“We just need to get him some help—”
“I said,” The soldier steadied his gun, “Don’t move.”
“Alright,” Dean stopped and lowered his head in defense. “Alright.”
“Sir,” The soldier said into his walky-talky, “I have a father and son here… Yes, I understand, but he has a little boy—Yes, sir.”
The soldier raised his gun back up.
Dean backed up slowly.
“I’m sorry,” The soldier said.
“Shit!”
Dean turned as they were shot at—