Chapter Text
It was nearing mid afternoon, and De was heading back to the station, saddlebags full of ammunition. The sky was clear, and the sun was beating down hot on her neck as she made her way through the country roads she knew so well. She figured she was about thirty miles out from the station, and knew there was nothing but open road ahead of her, and her baby roaring between her thighs. She opens her up, flying down the asphalt line cutting the overgrown cornfields apart. It's only about ten miles she can maintain at this pace, before she finds herself slamming to a stop. A red station wagon is pulled halfway off the road, nearly in the ditch, the front passenger's side tire is in shreds along the side of the road, the smell of hot rubber still thick in the air. De parks her bike and climbs off, swinging the assault rifle from her back into firing position. She approaches the car at a steady pace, hand ready on the grip of her weapon, eyes darting around to her blind spots. She sees the boulder lodged in the front undercarriage first, the man passed out on the deflating airbag second.
She picks up her pace, jogging over to the car. She taps the end of her rifle on the driver's window several times before trying the door handle. It's unlocked. She checks the car for blood, any sign that something is amiss. There's none but that coming from the man's nose, and the splashes on his shirt where it had dripped off his swollen upper lip. Deane tries to pull him from the vehicle, but the bastard had buckled his seatbelt. With a glance around for trouble, De flips her gun over her shoulder, and reaches for her walkie.
"Tiger to Moose, do you read me? Over."
"Yeah, De, I'm here." Sam's voice crackles over the walkie.
"Damn it Sammy, you're supposed to say; 'Loud and clear Tiger, go ahead. Over.'"
Sam sighs, "Loud and clear Tiger, go ahead. Over."
"We got a situation about twenty miles west of the Nest, out near the Sheriff's old place. Over."
"What kind of situation? Over."
"Wagon with a blowout, unconscious driver, maybe 200 pounds of supplies. Send Dracula and the Jeep. Over."
"Will do, what's your plan? Over."
"Tell Dracula I'll be here when he gets here. Gotta make sure this guy doesn't pass out in his own vomit. Over."
"De, be careful."
"Yeah, yeah, Sammy, see you in an hour. Over and out."
Though she can't see any danger, her daddy always said that just because you can't see it doesn't mean it ain't there. She takes shelter in the only available space - the backseat of the wagon. She had to sit with her legs up on the seat, the guy had jammed so much into the car. To kill time she takes inventory, it looks like this guy raided a hospital between here and Longmont, Colorado (according to the registration in the glove compartment). There are boxes of gauze and tape littering the floor of the back seat, a large box of pharmacy bottles of pills; everything from blood pressure pills to morphine, and boxes of little insulin bottles beneath. She also found four boxes of MREs, enough to feed their whole camp for two months. In the passenger's seat was a loaded handgun, four boxes of ammo, a ten gallon jug of water, as well as one half full of what looked like apple juice, but De was pretty sure was piss. She sure as hell wasn't gonna drink it. There were three large black cases that De was sure held weapons, and one that was definitely a guitar.
It's only about fifteen minutes before De can see the Jeep, so maybe they're closer to home than she thought. When the green ragtop pulls to a stop Benny's not alone. Jo hops out of the passenger's side and starts unstrapping provisions from the roof of the wagon. As Benny makes his way around to the driver's door, De unfolds herself from the backseat. She heads around to help Jo with the supplies, and the three of them work in silence to pack the contents of the wagon into the back of the Wrangler. Once Benny's got Mr. Comatose seated, there's no room left for Jo in the Jeep.
Deane turns and tosses Jo the helmet, "Looks like we're riding together, so you better hold on tight."
De climbs on her bike, laughing at the terrified look on the smaller girl's face. Once Jo's on she smiles wickedly, "'Cause we better beat Benny's sorry ass home."
After a terrifying ten minutes, Jo breathes a sigh of relief that De has to slow down when they turn onto the packed dirt road leading to the west gate. They stop in front of it to wait for Benny. Jo takes the opportunity to hop off and fish the key from her pocket, reaching for the knife in her holster as she jogs toward the gate. De's got her rifle in hand, but stays planted on her bike, until they hear the rumble of an engine coming after them; Jo pulls open the gate as soon as the Jeep is in sight. De follows Benny through and Jo closes the gate behind them, opting to walk the half mile back to camp.
De pulls next to Benny and hollers, "Drop him and his medical supplies with Missouri, I'll meet you at the station to sort through the rest." Benny nods at her, and they part ways, Benny heading south to Missouri's, Deane east to the station.
The station is how this all started, and it's one of the few residences in camp with power. It was once a church, but had been converted into a radio station by De's mom in the early eighties. Since then, Mary had Deane, Sam, and John prepping for doomsday. They turned what was once a medium sized brick church into a fortress. The radio controls were in the attic, they live in the offices, the main room is used as a meeting hall, and the basement for a mess hall. Bobby Singer, their weapons and inventory manager, lived in what was once the preschool addition with Jo and her mother, Ellen. De parked her bike in front of the station, unlatched her saddlebags from the bike, and headed in to see Bobby.
"Hey, old man! I brought you ammo!" She calls out brightly.
"Yeah, well keep your hat on, idjit. It ain't that exciting." Bobby replies, wheeling his way out of the back room. "Where's Jo and Benny?"
"Oh, you know Joanna's scared of my driving, so she decided to hoof it as soon as we got in the west gate. Benny is delivering our mystery guest to Missouri, see if she and Pam can get him fixed up." De drops the saddlebags on the floor and starts sorting the boxes by amount and type of bullet. "He'll be here soon, with a boat load. That kid I found wasn't fucking around."
"How do you mean?" Bobby asks, counting the number of .22 rounds De managed to bring in.
"I mean, the kid was carrying a pharmacy and, like, a year's worth of food with him. He's running to or from somewhere."
"Well, Missouri and Pamela'll be able to figure what he's about. You go on, show your Momma you got in safe."
"She in the station?"
Bobby grunts affirmatively, stacking boxes of .45 rounds behind his counter. De heads out, running up the stairs to the small apartment she shares with Sammy and her mother. She pauses for a moment at the picture of John Winchester on the wall, remembering the day after the croats broke out, remembering the feeling of her dad's hand around her neck, the butcher's knife held in the other as he drags it along her collar bone. Remembers the arrow coming so close to infecting her after piercing through her father's chest. Remembers burying him just inside the fence they put up that night. Back when it was just Jo and Ellen and Bobby around to help. Before they had amassed the remainder of survivors in town. Before the compound was a shanty town. She's had five years to move on, and yet she can't. All their work, all the preparations they'd made for whatever might happen and her dad still died, still got infected. Deane shook her head to clear it and moved on. There was no use crying in the apocalypse, after all. She climbed the stairs to the control room, and listened to her mom in the booth.
"So, as many of you may know, we have a new person here with us now. Send your good thoughts to whatever diety you believe in for our new friend. Additionally, we've gotten in more insulin, any diabetics running low, see Missouri before you run out. Now, that's all I've got for news, folks, but enjoy some Sinatra." Mary turns her mic off and queues up a few classics before leaving the booth to talk to her daughter.
"De, I hear you brought in quite the haul today."
"Well, mostly that guy did, I just found him."
"You did good, baby. You saved someone. You called for help, instead of trying to do it yourself." Mary smiles and runs her hand over her daughter's hair, "I'm proud of you, and your daddy would be too."
De shrugs off the compliment, "Where's Sammy?"
Mary raises her eyebrows, "Where do you think? Jessica Moore's."
De rolls her eyes and hugs her mom. "I'm gonna head out."
"Go, go, my ten minutes are almost up." Mary says, heading towards her booth, "But you and Jo have tomorrow morning on the radio, remember."
De climbed back down the ladder and makes her way out of the curch, only to see Jo and Benny making out against the Jeep. She considers heckling them, but decides against it, taking her bike instead to go see about this newcomer.
Pam's outside smoking when she gets there. "Your boy's awake, looks like the steering wheel broke his nose. He wants to see you." She passes her smoke to De, who takes a long drag, and coughs it back out. Pam's home rolls always have a little weed in them, but this one had more than usual.
"Son of a bitch," De chokes out, passing it back, "is there any tobacco in there, Pam?"
Pam smiles deviously, "Some. Now go see the patient, we can dicuss where you're sleeping tonight when you finish in there." Pam sends her off with a pat to the ass and a wink.
De walks into Missouri's kitchen to see her mystery man nursing a cup of coffee. He stands as she enters and holds out his hand "I'm Castiel, I believe you saved my life."
And from that moment, De was lost.