"You must of made some kind of mistake

I asked for death, but instead I'm awake

The devil told me no room for cheats

I thought I sold my soul, but he kept the receipt."

--Doomed, Bring Me The Horizon

Dean Winchester sprinted through the woods, crashing through brush and trees to escape the horde of walkers that were chasing him. In complete and utter truth he shouldn't have left the safe house alone and he knew that Sam was gonna have a field day with rubbing this in his face. He had run out of ammo for his gun and there were way too many for him to kill with just his knife.

Dean had ran the opposite way of the safe house; he couldn't risk the lives of his family-which only included Castiel and Sammy-so he ran in the only direction he could go. Away.

Dean thought about making a U-turn after losing them in the brush ahead. However that is not what happened. Instead, Dean burst out of the trees and went crashing to the hard dirt ground, rolling back to his feet as soon as he did. He kept running and misstepping, his foot caught in a root and he tumbled to the ground once more.

Dean tried his best to brace his fall by holding his arm out; the sound of a faint snap could be heard over the moaning and groaning of the walkers behind him. Not only did he just sprain his wrist but his ankle twisted and it was bruising already. He struggled to push himself to his feet and failed when his ankle gave out on him.

"Shit." Dean cursed under his breath. Trying once again to get to his feet, he swallowed down his pain and began to hobble away. There was no way he could keep running without drawing attention of more walkers with his sprained ankle before sundown.

He had to hide until Sam and Cas came to find him.

Dean limped as fast as he could trying to stay ahead of the walkers and find a place to hold out. So far his luck was sour and he did not come across any place to stay low and wait for the walkers to pass. Ahead of him, Dean could see a sign of a town ahead of him and the closer he got to the sign the closer the walkers became.

A walker who's legs had been cut off, its jaw barely hanging on its face and the eyes were milky white grabbed at his leg as he limped past. Dean hadn't seen it in time and went crashing to the ground, yelling. He didn't care about being quiet anymore and he shouted out as he kicked the walker in the face and pulled his knife stabbing it in the head.

Pushing the walker's rotting corpse off of him, Dean climbed to his feet once more and took off running, not giving a damn about whether or not the action and added weight would make his ankle worse. He just wanted to get to safety; he was NOT going to die out here at the rotting/decomposing hands of walkers. 

Dean ran as if all of hell were on his tail-once upon a time, hell was after him-but that was a story for another time. As soon as he had put more than enough distance between himself and the walkers he came to a stop, panting and relief washed over him. However, at the sound of a click, clear indication of a hammer on a gun being drawn back, Dean's relieved smile vanished as he slowly turned around.

Standing a couple feet away from him was three men; one holding a crossbow, one with a machete and a gun and the other with just a Glock 17 and a Beretta M9 as an apparrent backup in the holster at his hip.

The man holding the crossbow was clearly a redneck if Dean were to put it bluntly, with dark brown hair and a growing beard with blue eyes. The man with the machete was clearly of Asian descent, with dark hair and a clean shaven face--basically he looked like a kid, not at all threatening. The third man had dark brown curly hair, dark brown eyes and he was wearing a uniform, with a badge that said ''Sheriff Grimes'. This man seemed to be the leader of the three-man band and he had an air of stability and strategicness. He seemed like the kind of guy even Dean wouldn't want to fuck over.

And that's saying something.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" The "Sheriff" demanded, his one-handed grip on the gun tightening just a bit, but his face remained passive.

"Okay, look I got separated from my family and ran into a horde of walkers, so I had to lead them away. I fell and hurt my foot and I had no idea where I was going." Dean told him, raising his hands up in the air. "I'm not a threat and I would really appreciate it if you guys would stop pointing those things at me."

The man with the crossbow stepped forward, not lowering his weapon. "You didn't answer the damn question. Who the hell are you?"

Dean stared at the man with a look of pure apprehension, hesitating. They wouldn't really shoot him because they didn't trust him would they? "Dean Winchester. I'm from Lebanon, Kansas but my brother, a friend of ours and I came farther down to see if the damage was worse than back home." Dean looked around the woods before letting his eyes rest on the leader. "And from the looks of things, I'm guessing they are."

The Asian guy frowned at him and no one else said anything at all. Dean was becoming a little paranoid that those walkers would be here soon. And he didn't have the firepower to deal with them at the moment and taking one look at the three men in front of him, he saw that they didn't either.

"Who are you guys?" Dean asked, cautiously but curiously.

The leader finally spoke and said, "I'm Rick Grimes. This is Daryl Dixon and Glenn Rhee."

Dean nodded. "The first thing you should know is that I'm not a threat so if you wouldn't mind. . ."

Rick motioned for Glenn and Daryl to lower the weapons before apologizing. "Sorry. You can never be too careful."

"I know. . ." Looking up at the sky, Dean sighed and said, "It's going to get dark soon and I need to find a way back to my family."

Rick followed his gaze and glanced at Glenn and Daryl for agreement before turning back to him. "You can come with us and stay until daybreak before you do. We'll send someone to go with you in the morning. Safer that way."

Dean smiled at him. "Really? That means a lot, thank you." He took a step but his ankle crumpled under the weight and he would have fallen face first on the leaf littered ground if it wasn't for Daryl catching him. Dean winced and craned his head to look at his foot. His ankle was purple/blue and it was swollen.

"Damn." Dean whispered.

Rick frowned as Daryl said, "He ain't goin' nowhere with the way that ankle looks." 

"When we get back to Alexandria, Christine can do what she can to fix it." Glenn told Dean. "But you won't be able to go search for any of your friends tomorrow."

"What? It's barely even a sprain!" Dean protested. "I can--"

"You're not going out to look for them tomorrow on that ankle and that's final." Rick said firmly. "Is that understood?"

Dean looked down at his feet and he nodded. "Yes sir."