#this is another 'Virus should not be aloud Tumblr at night' post | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dracox-serdriel · 8 years ago

Text

The Second Death - Chapter 5: Locus Amoenus

Title: The Second Death [AO3] [FF] [LJ] Chapter: Locus Amoenus Universes: Superdead (Supernatural/Walking Dead) Crossover Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel (Destiel), Carol Pelletier/Daryl Dixon (Caryl) Word count: 3,100 Spoilers: All episodes of Supernatural through 07x23. All episodes of Walking Dead through 06x16. Rating: NC-17/MA Timeline: Supernatural, after episode 07x23 and Walking Dead, after episode 06x09. Summary: When Dean and Castiel take down big daddy Leviathan Dick Roman, the blast catapults them into a special kind of hell, where the living must survive in in a post-apocalyptic world filled with the Walking Dead. Desperate to learn how long they've been gone and what happened in their absence, Dean and Cas search for any sign of what went wrong, which is difficult in a world where all infrastructure has failed and strangers can't be trusted. Together they search for Sam Winchester in the middle of an apocalypse that's managed overrun the planet, and they're more than a little surprised to run into a group of survivors that'd give most Hunters a run for their money.

Meanwhile, after Daryl's attempt to bring new people back to Alexandria backfires, he looks for any excuse to hit the road for a few days. Carol, unwilling to let him go on his own, demands to join him. A basic run turns into something else when they run into two strangers who have no trouble dispatching walkers and don't seem to operate under the new world order. In fact, they seem completely lost.

Read the Second Death on LJ, AO3, or from the beginning on Tumblr.

The Second Death Chapter 5: Locus Amoenus

Dean knew that they were heading into murky waters. He'd learned exactly two things about their new "friends." One, they're human, and two, despite living in a zombie apocalypse, they didn't believe in the supernatural.

Maybe that second impression came from Cas more than the strangers in the other car. The angel kept insisting that a parasitic super-virus caused the zombies by reactivating the nervous system after death so long as the brain - or rather, parts of the brain - remained intact. Dean cut him off when he started pontificating over which portions were involved in triggering both physical motion and insatiable hunger. Wraiths, kitsune, and all the other monsters that cracked open human skulls for their prize taught him more than he ever wanted to know about brains. He didn't need to know anymore.

"We need to get our story straight," Dean said, determined to prevent Cas from continuing his monologue about the dynamics of post-mortem neurochemistry. "We need a plan."

"A plan for what, exactly?" Cas asked with an edge to his voice. "To escape these people or to help them?"

"Yes," Dean replied stubbornly. "And how to find Sammy and Kev."

Silence followed this pronouncement, probably because Cas was still thinking about brains.

"We gotta keep the angel thing under wraps," Dean continued. "Along with the leviathans and Dick Roman. Which means we gotta have an explanation ready for you and your... weirdness and why we're looking for Kevin and Sam."

"A simple lie," Cas suggested. "That will be easiest to remember."

"Right, we split up to scavenge a few days ago, and they didn't show yesterday, so we went looking for them," he said. "Good. Now we gotta figure out how to make them think you're a regular guy."

"They already do."

"Cas, you don't eat or sleep," Dean pointed out. "We stay with them long enough, they'll notice."

Carol didn't know what was going on with Daryl, but she knew he hadn't regressed to the man she'd first met outside Atlanta. He tried to do that before, back on Hershel's farm when they discovered Sophia had been in the Walker Barn since the day she had gotten lost and all his efforts searching for her amounted to nothing. He had tried to push Carol and everyone else away, but it was too late. He didn't need her to remind him that he was family; it was already ingrained in his bones.

Daryl had relayed the facts of his recent brush with misfortune to her in short, clipped sentences, but he left out all the important details. She resorted to guessing the rest of it from his recent behavior because the only other option was trying to get him to talk, which wouldn't end well. So she'd settled for conjecture... but not for much longer.

They drove in silence for a long stretch. She considered bringing up what she'd been going through, but every time she thought of something to say, she couldn't bring herself to speak it aloud. It was like she had nothing but pre-apocalypse cliches in her head, and she couldn't use one of those, not even with Daryl.

So she focused on the road.

"You gonna say it?" he asked.

She hadn't expected him to speak, which was doubly odd because she usually read him like a book. She was so surprised that she didn't really process what he'd said.

"You're like a hamster on a damn wheel," he said, exasperated. "Come on, out with it."

"Me? What about you?" she deflected.

"Nah, this ain't about me."

"It's not," she admitted. "I don't know where to start."

"The wolves?"

Daryl might not socialize like other people, but he was a perceptive bastard when he wanted to be. She wasn't sure if she liked or hated that about him.

"Do you know how many people I've killed?" she asked.

"Nobody who didn't deserve it," he replied. "Nobody who didn't need to die."

"I don't know how many," she said, the words falling out of her mouth. "Twenty? Thirty?"

"That bothers you," he said.

It wasn't a question or a judgment, just a statement. He understood, and knowing that much alleviated whatever it was that had been eating away at her. Somehow, that was enough for now.

"Don't let it," he added.

"I don't know how."

She immediately regretted uttering those words. It had been a long time since she admitted to feeling that kind of helplessness, and she detested it. She hated that this world could make her as hard as stone and as cold as ice but still get to her.

"Think about who," he said simply. "Whenever you can't let it go, think about who you saved. Kept Judith and Tyreese alive after the prison. Pulled all our asses outta the fire at Terminus. Wouldn't be here without you."

She bit her lip. She hadn't told anyone what had happened to Lizzie and Myka on the road to Terminus, and she doubted Tyreese had told anyone - even his own sister - before he died. It was one of the few things she hoped to take to her grave.

But he was right. She hadn't killed anybody that didn't absolutely need to die, whether it was a twelve-year-old who murdered her own sister because she couldn't tell the living from the dead any longer or a raider hacking apart a new friend with a machete.

The conversation ended there, right where it needed to, and she was grateful that Daryl held his tongue. If she tried to talk about this with anyone else, they would've plied her with platitudes, gratitude, and nonsense. That was one reason she had been so keen to avoid the subject.

So she let the silence settle between them as she drove, long enough for both of them to relax. Then she broached the question.

"What about you, Pookie?" she asked. "Anything you want off your chest?"

He scoffed in reply, and she was about to press the issue when he leaned forward in his seat.

"Hold up," he said.

They planned to take the state highway north, as it would get them to Alexandria within the day but that would have to change. Even from a mile away, it was clear the onramp was impassable.

"This was supposed to be clear," she said.

"Was," he replied. "Just a few days ago. Ain't no accident, neither."

He was right. Someone had barricaded the onramp with a bunch of old cars. It was possible that another group of survivors did it to keep a walker herd on the highway, but she doubted it. It was far more likely that predators blocked the ramp and now were lying in wait for a hapless group of passerbys.

"We go around, then," she said.

Carol tensed as they continued. Had they known about the blocked ramp in advance, they would've given this place a wide berth, but now they had to drive right by it without any cover. She didn't like the idea of someone catching their scent.

Carol's senses went on full alert, and more than once she had to remind herself that they had two strangers following them on purpose. Daryl was too busy keeping a wary eye out for trouble to deal with the map, but she had put together their route and remembered enough of the details to be concerned. The other major roads were either blocked with traffic snarls or had areas that were overrun with walkers. Not only would they have to double back and watch their backs, but they'd have to do it while taking back roads.

It would take days.

"You want to take over?" she asked.

"I guess."

"We need to pick an alternate route and a place to camp for the night," she replied. "And we should warn the others."

Daryl huffed at the suggestion, but he was definitely less peeved about the pair than he had been this morning. Either they were growing on him, or he was in a better mood.

Either way, that was good because Carol had the sinking feeling that a storm was blowing their way.

Castiel sensed something was wrong. Not the lack of supernatural in the world nor the parasitic super-virus that animated corpses; no, this was a closer, more dangerous threat, at least for the angel, his hunter, and their two... sort of allies.

Perhaps that was what was bothering him. They had risked their lives to rescue several perfectly normal-looking people who repaid them with attempted murder, yet the unexpected betrayal had not prevented Dean from trusting the next strangers they met, even though Carol easily duped them. He was certain that if he pressed the issue, Dean would insist on the soundness of his judgment, and nothing the angel said would change his mind.

Luckily, both his powers and his sanity remained in tact, so he could keep watch over Dean day and night. Should Carol, Daryl, or anyone else attempt to harm his hunter, he would obliterate them.

The station wagon's turn signal began to flash.

"Something's up," Dean said.

They were on a stretch of road that crossed a wide, flat field that allowed them to see a quarter mile in every direction. It would be far more logical to assume that one of them had to relieve themselves, but he was certain if he mentioned this, Dean would insist on his perspective.

And he would probably be correct, too.

Cas thought his brush with insanity had taught him about humanity, but he possessed no more insight now then the day he raised Dean from hell. As he pulled over behind the other car, he wondered if this would ever be remedied or if he would forever remain a sore thumb with no discernment of the human spirit.

This was all bullshit.

Daryl couldn't get that out of his head, like a damn mantra.

They should be back in Alexandria, tucked safely in their beds. Or Carol should be at least. But no, she was out here with him with a damn target on her back, all because he couldn't cope with the walls.

They spent the last of the daylight looking over their shoulders while scouring the back roads for any place they could hold up for the night. If it had been just Carol and him, they'd've made camp in less than an hour, but four people with two full-sized vehicles didn't have a lot of options.

They should've split up, but Carol was real stubborn about keeping together. So they did, even though it wasn't the smart play, and he didn't say a word. Only reason they were in this mess was his cabin fever, so he didn't have a leg to stand on. Not with this.

Somehow, the weird guy in the trench coat found a place. Most of it was a ruin burned down to the frame, but the adjoining garage had survived, despite the scorch marks on its exterior. It was easy to miss, blending in with the rubble and obscured by overgrowth. Most people wouldn't look at this place twice; hell, Daryl might've passed it by. And that would've been a shame.

It was a little tight, but they got both cars parked inside, and the charred door shut tight, like it'd never moved.

He assumed they'd be hold up in their vehicles taking turns keeping watch on the roof, but when he looked up to get a feel for the kind of perch they might have, he saw Carol and the somewhat normal guy climbing a flight of stairs.

The damn garage had a second floor with a full studio apartment, complete with plumbing and a small generator on its last legs. The low ceiling made it feel much smaller than it was, and the boarded-off windows didn't help things.

These two must've been luckiest sons of bitches he'd met since the world ended.

Daryl didn't know why he thought that, but he couldn't shake the impression. It would've been so easy to think they'd lied about their familiarity with the area to lure them into a trap. But that didn't hold. Something about Dean and Cas... it was like they hadn't been steeped in a world where the walking dead paled in comparison to a survivor willing to do anything to live another day.

To avoid the reeling thoughts in his head, he turned his focus to the windows. Dusk was fading fast, which gave him the cover of darkness while he yanked off the boards. Nobody said a word about it, so he kept to himself, eventually ducking downstairs to double-check that the door was secure.

Except that wasn't the real reason. This place got him thinking about a rundown shack he'd wound up in after everything fell apart at the prison. He'd lost everybody but Beth, and -

Damn if remembering that didn't bring it all back like it happened yesterday. Burning down that stupid shack and flipping it off as they left, not a care in the world. Crashing for the night in a funeral home of all places. Walkers flooding the place. Him drawing them off and yelling at her to run for it. Escaping by the hair of his teeth and racing after her, finding her bag on the ground. Him missing her and the people who took her by seconds. Chasing after that damn car for he didn't know how long. Collapsing when his legs gave out. The weight of losing his last friend. Being more alone then he'd ever been in his life.

But that was nothing, nothing compared to seeing her again, alive and well. After all was said and done, he'd found her, and they got her back. She wasn't more than an arm's length away when the shot rang out and her blood spattered his clothing.

Yeah, he took out her killer seconds later, too little too late. And as a dozen guns trained on him, all he did was stand there looking down at Beth's body, his weapon down and his hands shaking. He didn't even fight the tears. All he could think was, had she made it to her eighteenth birthday?

She hadn't, but he hadn't known that back then. He didn't know until a few days ago when he glimpsed Diana's office calendar. When he saw the month and year, he didn't believe it and confronted Diana about it. But she assured him that the date was correct, holding her ground no matter how angry he got. Eugene apparently overheard and took it upon himself to confirm the date using the stars or planets or some shit.

The long and the short of it was that Beth Greene turned eighteen at midnight tonight. Or she would have, had she lived.

He'd almost forgotten that. Almost. But now it came back twice as hard. He had to lean his forehead into the nearest wall to keep his feet under him.

That's when he smelled something burning, and his eyes snapped to the stairs. His feet figured out he had to move before his brain did, and he was halfway to Carol before he recognized the scent. It wasn't smoke, just the smell of heat coming off a stove that'd been cold for too long. She must've gotten the generator up and started cooking.

No longer concerned for her safety, he sat on the stairs. There was no need for strangers to see him teary-eyed and panicked. He only meant to take a moment, but their voices caught his attention.

"Times like this, I wonder how I manage without electricity?" Carol said with a hint of slyness.

She was testing them, fishing for something, but Daryl couldn't think what for.

"We've had to go without for so long, it's like magic to me," Dean replied. "Lately, it's like we can't catch a break, so I'll take whatever we get."

"Food has posed a bigger problem," Cas spoke up. "We had a... uh, contamination issue."

"Putting it mildly," Dean said.

"My group had it the same," she replied. "Until Alexandria. It was one of those eco-communities built to be fully self-sustaining, finished a few months before everything fell apart. The walls went up not long after that. Electricity, water, indoor plumbing. It's... like a dream."

"Loci Amoeni," Cas said.

Carol was damn good at handling people, but even she balked at the oddities out of this guy's mouth. Utter silence fell, and even Daryl felt the discomfort that followed.

"Humanity recreates Eden," Cas said a moment later. "But since a true return to innocence is a known impossibility, the focus shifts to an acceptable external phenomenon - to the human mind - replicates the purity of an untainted spirit. The promise of a Locus Amoenus, an idealized place of safety, abundance, comfort, and freedom where everything will be better... it can keep hope alive and rekindle faith. It has for most of human history, in complete contradiction to all logic, reason, and learned patterns. The more you know it's an impossibility, the more you tell yourselves it's real, and the moment you arrive, everything will be better."

"Think we're lying about Alexandria?" Daryl interjected as he joined them.

The man's face contorted in confusion, and his childlike expression threw Daryl off.

"He always says stuff like that," Dean countered. "You'll get used to it."

"Alexandria ain't perfect," Daryl said. "Neither are we."

"You've lost people," Cas replied.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Good people. Too many to count."

"Too many died bloody," Dean added. "And never the people who deserve it."

That was all they needed to say to prove themselves to Daryl. They knew what it was like to be exhausted and covered in blood, trying to carry a friend to safety, even when it's already over and nothing can be done to save them. They knew loss like the snow knew the cold, so deeply that it was an inescapable part of them.

Daryl felt the corners of his mouth turn up slightly, though smiling was the last thing on his mind. Maybe Carol had been right about them. They weren't so bad, even the one who spouted philosophical crap in monotone.

He didn't believe in much, but if he did... if he did believe that there was any kind of greater power out there that gave a damn, then he'd also believe that it owed them something. And if it was waiting for some precious moment - some cosmically just timing - to pony up, then tonight at midnight seemed right.

Daryl kept that thought to himself and turned the conversation to shifts for keeping watch. One way or another, tomorrow would be a bitch.

For previous and next chapters, please go to The Second Death main Tumblr page.

Chapter notes: This chapter contains backstory from both shows. I've taken some minor liberties with the current date in Walking Dead (which wasn't specified on the show).

Author’s notes: Apologies for the long break between chapters. I hope you've enjoyed the latest installment!

1 note · View note