You're back to lying on Glenn's lap when Hershel comes in. You don't know how long has it been since Dean and Sam left, it appears like forever, but it has probably been just a few hours. You feel like crap, but you muster enough energy to sit up and glare at Hershel.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, "you are a high-risk patient." Glenn also seems to want to protest. However, the old man gives you a look that shuts you up. He's not up for any bullshit.

"Caleb has gotten sick," he explains, "it's only fair that there's someone here able to help. Don't you agree?" you I kinda do, but you have no desire to fill the man's lunatics. You remain quiet.

"Still, you could..." whatever Glenn was about to say gets abruptly cut off by a coughing attack.

You rub his back soothingly because you know that there's nothing you can do. Hershel, however, has other ideas. He rummages through his back and pulls out a thermos. He waits for Glenn to finish, then hands it to him.

"Here, share that." Glenn takes it and gives Hershel a questioning look. "It's tea, helps with the disease. It won't cure it, but it'll help."

"Thank you" says Glenn. He pours himself a cup and hands the thermos to you. You sip it lightly, it tastes bad. You try not grimace for Hershel's sake. He's only helping, after all.

"Sam and Dean left for the pharmacy a while back." Hershel starts, "they were pretty worried about you."

Glenn gives you a knowing look. Well, isn't he a gossip? Even sick. "Yeah, we go back before the a- the outbreak." Hershel already knows that, so you add, "we were friends then, and it seems we still are now."

The man hums in understanding, yet he's not done. "They seem like good young men. I'd say it's good to keep them around." Then he stands and heads to help more people.

You know that you don't need Hershel's permission regarding the Winchesters. Nevertheless, he is a wise man, and you deeply appreciate his comment. That only makes you more sure of your resolution: the brothers are as good as you remembered them to be. That's all that matters. Not to mention, your renewed feelings for Sam.

"You know", starts Glenn a bit later. You are both side to side leaning on a cell's mattress. "I'm not too much interested in this sort of thing, but when are you going to tell Sam how you feel?"

"What do you know about how I feel?" It's not like as if you've told Glenn about your heart beating fast every time the youngest Winchester looks at you.

"You know I'm your best friend, right?" He claims, "I know you, I know how you behave when you like someone. I remember how you were with Mike. Still, this is not quite like that, you seem more into Sam."

It's surprises you that he pays attention to your love life, but he is right. What you feel for Sam Winchester seems deeper than what you ever felt before. Which, to be honest, it's scary. Nevertheless, Glenn is your best friend and maybe, if you tell him about your insecurities, he will help you make sense of them. After all, his and Maggie's relationship has been fruitful.

"I like Sam," you admit out loud for the first time, "but you know how my previous relationships have ended." He was there to witness what happened with Amy and Mike. And you've told him a little about Ray and your last girlfriend before the apocalypse started.

"So?" He inquires.

"What do you mean 'so'?" You try to scream it, but with the coughing, you sound pathetic. "Glenn, I feel like if I'm cursed. All the times I've tried, they've ended in disaster. Most of the time they died," you say darkly. "I don't want Sam to die, that would break me."

"Sam is not going to die just because you date him," snickers weakly Glenn.

You want to punch him for making fun of your fears, but you're too weak to actually muster enough strength to do so. Instead, you simply say, "He could."

"He won't," his response, is so certain that you hesitate. "Look, I'm not saying that he won't die," more coughing, "he could, just like any of us. All I'm saying is that he won't die just because he's dating you," he puts a sweaty hand on top of yours. "You are not cursed, and you deserve to love and be loved."

Glenn's sincerity renders you speechless. For the first time in weeks, you consider that he might be right. You never doubt that you deserved someone, you just didn't want to put anyone in danger by being with you.

After that chat, you both remain quiet for a while. You have a lot in your mind, and maybe so does he. You don't talk about it, but you know each other well enough to know that you are thinking about the disease. More and more people are dying as the hours pass by. There's a high possibility that one of you is next. Wouldn't it be an irony if you died of an illness in the apocalypse? Or that you never get to tell Sam how you feel? Or hug your brother again? Make your sister laugh? Or even mend your broken relationship with your father?

You really don't wanna think about that sort of thing. In fact, you wanna keep talking to Glenn about anything and everything, just like you always do. Sadly, when you look up to his face, you see that he has fallen asleep beside you. You decide not to wake him up, so you hop up under the bed behind you and follow his example. Sleep takes over you almost as soon as your head touches the pillow.

It hasn't been long when you wake up. Glenn rushing out of the cell is what startles you. You force yourself to stand up and blindly follow after him. He's in another room once you find him. On the floor, Hershel is beside Henry. Glenn has just placed himself on the floor next to them. Behind you, Sasha stumbles in. It looks like Henry has trouble breathing.

"Quick," Hershel commands, "help me intubate him." He looks at Henry, "Henry, I need you to calm down, we're trying to help."

You don't know much about medicine. You follow Hershel's directions and hold down Henry while he inserts the tube down his throat. Once he is done, he connects the oxygen bag and starts squeezing it. The rest of you try to contain your coughs.

"You ok to take over?" Asks the man to Sasha. She nods, he hands it to her. "Every five or six seconds, squeeze." He looks at you, "if she starts feeling light-headed, take over. We'll take it in shifts" You nod. Then he directs at Glenn, "you wanna help me doing my rounds?"

"Yeah," he accepts. They both stand up. "How long will that keep him alive?" asks Glenn.

Hershel looks at all of you solemnly. "As long as we're willing to do it. As long as it takes." You and Glenn share a look, and then they leave.

Surprisingly, Sasha doesn't get tired fast. She is quiet the whole time you are together, and you appreciate it because you don't feel like talking. It takes her an hour to hand you the bag. Once you take over, you notice that it's harder than you thought. Not because it's difficult, but because you feel sicker than hours ago, and doing anything at all makes it worse. You need all of your concentration to focus on the task at hand. Glenn comes to his shift two hours after. You almost feel like you are about to pass out, yet you don't hold it against him. You just give the bag to him wordlessly and walk out of the cell. You need to lay down.

You go to the cell you were in before. The mattress creaks when you lay. Sadly, it hasn't been long since then when there's a commotion in the hallway. You hear rattling, coughing and distant murmurs. You go outside just to see one of the residents cough to death. Hershel is standing beside him, taking his pulse. You know the moment he's died by the look in the old man's eyes. He glances around himself to all the spectators. You know he has to kill him before he turns into a walker.

"Everyone," Hershel starts, "get back in your cells." No one moves. "Go on, get back in your cells." People are stubborn and stay where they are.

You step out. Raising your voice as much as your sick state allows you to, you scream. "Hershel said to get back in your fucking cells, people!" You are not sure if it's the tone you use, or the natural leadership skills you possess, but people start to go back inside their rooms. It's a slow process, still, in a few seconds it's only you, Hershel, and Sasha outside.

Sasha brings over a gurney. "Let's put in on this." In spite that everyone has gone back inside, they're watching through the bars. You know that it's not wise to kill him where everyone can see.

Pulling him up is harder than it would've been on a normal day. Between the three of you, you make it. You don't dare to look at the face of whoever it is. You probably know him, and his blank gaze will only remind you of your own mortality. The last push of the body sends you tumbling down. You would've fallen over if it hadn't been for the wall behind you. Sasha is in no better state than you.

"Go rest," Hershel commands you. "Can you make it to your cell?" he asks. Sasha nods, but you hesitate. Not because you could not return on your own, but because that means he has to be the one to put the knife through the corpse's skull. Is he really up for that? Noticing your resistance, he looks at you and adds, "it's ok." Nothing about this is ok, but you relent and walk to your bed.

You collapse onto the mattress in a coughing fit. Blood splatters across the sheets and runs down your chin. The ceiling dances, and you know that you must be burning high. Last time you checked, you finished your cup of Hershel's tea. There's really nothing you can do except wait till Daryl or Sam are back. Deep down, you hope that they're back soon, because you don't think you're ready to die. Not like this. Still, you know you must not have much left by the amount of blood you're vomiting. It has increased exponentially overnight.

Then, a realization suddenly hits you. You remember that at the hunt with the brothers, Gina mentioned something about Josh being sick before Dean killed her. Not walker-sick, but sick-sick. Was she right all along? Was this disease what she meant? It doesn't justify her killing, but it would explain why she did it.

It doesn't take long before your thoughts are interrupted yet again. It feels like this nightmare keeps going on forever. Lizzie's screams echo across the pavilion. She's calling for Hershel, but the desperation in her voice sends a shiver down your spine. Then, a loud gunshot rings. Something is happening. This time, it takes you longer to recover from the nausea when you stand. Your feet protest once you start walking. You honestly feel like lying in bed forever. You can't, leader or not, you're a fighter and have a duty to your people. You walk out to one of them being eaten by a walker (another of your people). Two more walkers come out of their hiding.

You briefly think about shooting, but considering you're seeing double, that's probably not a good idea. With shaky hands, you take a knife from your knife belt. You try to suppress coughing and aim towards the head of the walker closer to you. You throw it, but as expected, it lands on its neck. The monster doesn't seem phased by your poor aim and keeps coming to you. Shit. You need to pull yourself together, you can hear fighting on the upstairs floor, and you know these might not be the only ones. You take another knife and throw, hoping it lands. Luck seems to be on your side this time because the walker falls dead to the ground. Nevertheless, your joy is short-lived, when you focus again, the second walker has caught up and launches at you. You both fall to the ground. Your hands are around his throat to try and keep him away from you. It works, but you know that there's no way you can reach your weapons and hold it at the same time. Normally, it'll be no problem, but right now your arms are too weak. To make matters worse, when you open your mouth to call out for help, blood pours out. Shit, shit, shit, is this how you're going to die?

No. It's not. Mustering whatever strength you have left, you pull out your gun and place it in the walker's mouth. The shoot echoes in your head for a few seconds. Your arms fall at your sides, the dead walker is still on top of you, now crushing you with its weight. The last thing you are aware of before you pass out, is Hershel calling your name and another walker coming your way. Shiet .

...

You wake up to soft talking. At first, you are not able to make out the words they're saying. The meaning doesn't reach your brain.

"... my sister... take care... important... understand?" It's Carl's voice, you are sure of it. Who is he talking to? Is that Sam answering back to him? What is he saying? Are they back already? Are you dead? The last thing you remember was the room spinning and a walker about to bite your head off. Someone must've killed it before that happened.

You let out a groan. The sound seems to startle your companions because the talking ceases. You feel someone move closer to you. A hand takes yours and someone asks you if you're alright. You want to answer, you really do, but your head pounds horribly. How long have you been asleep? You try to concentrate in your surroundings. Slowly, you open your eyes. The light blinds you momentarily, but then you are able to focus on what's in front of you. You are lying on your bed in your cell. Your brother, Carl, has your hand firmly caged in his. His eyes are pleading. He looks just like you remember when he'd beg for you to play with him. His nose is slightly pink, and you think he might've been crying. Beside him, Sam Winchester stares at you in a mixture of relief and tenderness.

They are both looking at you expectantly, so you murmur: "what?" The smile that they give you is almost blinding.

Sam takes the lead and answers. "You've been sleeping for a day. Hershel said that you passed out after taking out some walkers, how do you feel?" Even though he is still smiling, you can see that he's worried.

"My head is killing me," you supply, "other than that, I- I think just a little weak. I'll live." You squeeze Carl's hand and try to smile for them.

"Oh" Sam teases, "are you a doctor now?" The mischievous glance he is giving you is something you don't see often.

Carl looks between the two of you awkwardly. "I- uh- I'll find dad and tell him you're awake."

You stare back at him and smile, but before he can let go of your hand, you pull him to you. It seems you are not completely recovered yet because he barely moves. "C'mon, give your big sister a hug."

Carl is annoyed by your request, though complies after a few seconds. When he separates from you, his cheeks are pink. He's probably embarrassed that Sam saw the whole thing. Before anyone can say anything, he's gone. Once you peek at Sam, he seems amused.

"He has been trying to intimidate me ever since I came back." He discloses, "it's interesting to see that he's just a kid, apocalypse or not."

"He is," you reply. "You haven't been bugging him, have you?" you tease.

He is entertained by your implication, "are you taking his side?"

"He is my brother after all, isn't he?"

The laugh that breaks out of his mouth sounds like the perfect symphony. "You're right. I have the short straw here, specially..." He hesitates, "especially since I haven't told you the whole truth."

"What truth?"

"Listen," he begins, "I've been keeping myself in check about... about my feelings because I thought it was the best thing to do. I mean, you deserve to be with someone that's not- that won't put you in danger."

You don't know what he is talking about, so you interrupt him. "Sam, what? Explain."

He pauses, like he's not sure where to start. Then, he sits beside you on the bed and takes your hand. Looking directly at your eyes, he speaks. "Ever since I met you, I've felt this... connection towards you. It's more than just attraction, I know it is. I felt it back when you were unavailable. You had just lost your boyfriend, even if he was a complete dick, so I did nothing." Your heart is pounding rapidly in your chest, is this really happening? "Now, the world is shit, I know, but I have you back. I'll be damned if I don't do anything about it." You try to speak, but he's not done yet. "I didn't say anything at first because I have a bad track record with my relationships. Either- either they die or leave. I don't want anything to happen to you, so I thought keeping my interest at bay would be good for you." He laughs bitterly. "But we are living in the damn apocalypse, Lucifer is out there, and you could've died from such a simple thing as a disease!" He looks sweetly into your eyes. Your heart skips a beat, and you think you might pass out again. "So I said fuck it , you know? If I want to spend the damn end of the world with you, I will."

For a moment, you remain quiet. All the possible outcomes rushing to your head like a wave. You feel just like him. And just like him, you don't have the best track record with your partners.

He misinterprets your silence, "of- of course, that's only if you want me too. I mean, you don't have to-" He starts to pull his hand away, but you take it back.

"I want to," you cut him off. "It's just, I know what you mean. I haven't had the best record with exes, either." He seems curious, so you explain. "Even after Ray, all of my partners have either died or left." You stare at him tenderly, "I don't want anything to happen to you either."

The smile he gives you is not the biggest you've seen on him, but this one causes your breath to get stuck for a moment. His eyes twinkle in the dim light coming from the curtain-door. He looks genuinely happy, and you think you might have some similar expression on your face.

"Then we'll take care of each other," he whispers. "I promise, I won't let anything hurt you."

You know that making promises like that are almost impossible to keep, but you don't wish to ruin the moment, so you remain quiet. You lift your weak arm and place your hand on his cheek, he leans into it. That cold morning is the first time Sam Winchester opens his heart to you.