On The Flip Side

Chapter 3

Rick was Alexandria's leader; a grizzled, scarred man with a haunted look in his eyes. He was the type of man who'd seen too much, had been knocked down and forced to get up one too many times. He didn't mess around. Would shoot them dead if he thought he needed to in order to keep himself and his people safe. 

But like Daryl had gruffly said, he was far from a bad man. He cared about his people. The stress of whoever this Negan guy was-- it was reflected in all the sallow faces at Alexandria. Survivors, but at what cost? Aaron had murmured the details, that Negan had killed some of their own brutally, had beat Rick, threatened his children. They had to pay up in the form of weaponry and other supplies, or else Negan would take more lives.

Aaron had assured them that they didn't need to get involved and that more able manpower was what they really needed, but his tired smile didn't quite reach his eyes. The happy photos he'd shown them of the residents here were also a thing of the past, the same as Castiel's clean coat and the pristine, white shirt beneath it. These people were hurting and living in fear of a newer, bigger evil.

Dean asked why they didn't just pack up and leave, but Aaron had simply shrugged and said that this was a utopia for them, their home. That even under threat they didn't want to flee. They had walls, and homes, and families, and solar panels, and fresh, running water. It was Negan or it was the dead, and neither were good options. Dean understood that.

People looked at them with caution, and at Castiel with bewilderment. Their weapons were confiscated, but the Impala was brought in and nobody found the false bottom in the trunk when they checked it over. Sam and Dean were resourceful enough not to mind. Daryl informed them that if they proved trustworthy within the next few days, they'd get their belongings back in full.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Rick asked, eyes cold. He had a revolver holstered at his waist but somehow he seemed more dangerous when he wasn't holding it.

Dean didn't bother trying to smile and play up what Sam called his 'customer service' persona. He simply met his gaze, firm and unshaking. Dean operated with the same brutal honesty afforded to most fellow hunters. Even if Rick wasn't technically the same type that they were, there was no doubt he'd killed more than enough monsters in his time to qualify.

"Do you keep count?" Dean asked, even though he'd only had to off a handful so far. It seemed to be the right answer because Rick shifted back, sitting up straighter. He observed Dean keenly.

Sam was sweating absolute bullets. The tension in the air was thick, and the only one who didn't seem to feel it was Castiel. The angel looked around with mild curiosity, taking the room in with a casualness that was probably extremely off-putting to anyone who didn't know him. Nothing about the angel fit the situation— but then, when did it ever?

"How many people have you killed?" Rick asked. There was something almost sad about him, weighed down and just... worn. Dean knew they weren't here to help, not really, but these people were good ones. Probably some of the few still left.

Sam and Dean were hunters-- they saved people. It was what they did. But this wasn't a monster lurking in the dark, wasn't something they could hunt and stake in a night. This was a militia. This was a man.

"Too many." Sam murmured from next to him, quiet. His brother was tall and broader than Dean was, but he hunched in on himself, trying to make himself seem smaller for their own benefit. Castiel sat on Dean's other side, now observing Rick with slightly furrowed brows and the smallest of frowns.

Rick hummed a bit. His eyes flickered over to Castiel, over his clean clothes and straightened tie. The buzz of the air conditioner running in the background was the only sound. Castiel stared back steadily. The angel could be terribly unnerving for those who weren't used to him, and Rick's face creased with a frown the longer their gazes stayed locked. Dean elbowed the angel lightly, brows raising.