Yours Truly, Zombies. (Supernatural)

Chapter 7: Wake Up Call

Mary's POV

I shoved him away as fast as I could. "W-what are you doing up here?" I stuttered harshly. I furiously wiped the tears from my face and sniffed involuntarily.

Willie put his hands up. "I wanted to see where you were going," he defended. I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "Uh-huh." I rolled my eyes.

"It's the truth," He replied. "Right," I spat back, "this is none of your business."

"Right," Willie mocked. "It is when you're the one in charge. How would the others react if I told them about your little 'instability?'"

My eyes widened. "You wouldn't-" "Oh, believe me, I would." There was a silent pause. "There's nothing wrong with me," I retorted. "It's my time of month, is all," I lied.

Awkwardness replaced the silence.

"Fine," Willie stuck out his chin and turned around, basically stomping down the stairs. "Be quiet! You'll wake the dead!" I hissed at him. He chuckled.

"Sweetheart, they're already up."

****

I was the first one awake.

The house was entirely silent, except for my soft, patterned footsteps. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Noel and Maddy inherited one of the couches. Emily and Hailey laid on the other, with Alyssa wrapped in a blanket snoring away on Hailey's lap. Chris, Justin, and Dean slept in a blanketed mess on the floor. I had slept in the first of two chairs. Willie was sleeping in the other, larger recliner.

God, I hated him. I hated the way he curled up in a little ball like a kitten. I hated the way that his hair stuck up in little spikes and I hated the way that he snored softly. And the way that he smiled in his sleep, and how he sighed every few minutes...

I scowled. It's hard to hate someone when they're sleeping, but I promise you, I hate him.

Dean grumbled in his slumber, taking a pillow from underneath Chris's head. He hugged it, mumbled something to it, and promptly stood up and threw it at me. Next thing I know, he has a gun pointed at me and is telling me I have the right to remain silent.

I held up my hands in mock surrender. "Hold up, officer," I grinned at him. Dean had been a cop for a few years, after we left Mom. He used to have nightmares on the days he ended up shooting people. He went to a doctor, got some pills, and ended up quitting the force. He still woke up screaming sometimes.

Dean rubbed his eyes and lowered the gun. "Sorry," he said sleepily. I shrugged. "Can I talk to you?" I asked. He nodded, and led me into the kitchen with a zombie-like shuffle of his feet.

"Whaddya need?" He murmured. My eyes flickered to the doorway, watching to make sure no one would come in. "We can't stay here long," I whispered. Dean narrowed his eyes. I continued, "and we can't take them with us."

A yawn made us both jump, and we waited for a full minute before returning our panicky conversation. "We can't just leave them here! They believe in you to help them," Dean hissed.

"Isn't it you who always said we work better as a pair? They will slow us down. Look at them! They're afraid of guns, for Christ's sake!" I snarled at him. Dean folded his arms in front of his chest. His face had a look that said, no fooling around. I knew that look well.

"You didn't have a problem with them when they first got here," he said in a scary-calm voice. I averted my eyes. That was before I had a conversation with Willie. "Fine." I snapped. "Have it your way. But when you get bit-" I jabbed a finger at his chest - "I will not hesistate to shoot you in the head." I turned on my heel and stormed back into the living room.

"Everybody up!" I hollered at the sleeping shapes. Everone got up slowly, drowsily. During an attack, they would have all been dead. Or turned. I gave Dean a cocky look, and returned my gaze to the people that were just awakening.

"I said get up!" I screeched, grabbing Justin and Chris from the floor and yanking them to their feet. Alyssa started to cry. Noel glared at me and scooped the child in her arms. "What's this about?" She asked, then shushed the crying girl.

I smirked and shifted my weight onto one leg, putting my hands on my hips - which were already starting to feel bony.

"Pack up your stuff. We're leaving; tonight."