We're Not Broken (A Supernatural and The Walking Dead Crossover Fic)

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Laura reverse-parked the Impala in the garage, narrowly missing her beloved Yamaha 360 Enduro, much to her dismay. The group parked outside of the garage, closer to the house. Laura stepped out of the Impala and slung the rifle around her shoulder. She shut the driver's door, the low creak sounding from the hinges, and she locked the door.

"Sweet ride." Stated a rough voice behind her. The voice startled her slightly but she didn't show it. She chuckled as this reminded her of an old friend of hers. Laura turned and saw the man who previously held the crossbow, which was now hanging on his back by the strap across his chest like a messenger bag. Up close she could see how bright his blue eyes were and how dark the circles beneath them were, despite the amount of dust on his face.

"Not so bad yourself." She said, nodding at his Harley Davidson, which was parked close the the entrance, and crossing her arms. She leaned on the side of the Impala.

Beneath the dust on his face, Laura noticed his cheeks turn a slight pink but then he shifted his weight and his smirk fell. She went to say something but he scoffed and turned on his heel before starting towards the house without a farewell. He muttered something that Laura interpreted as a word of thanks. Laura stood there for a moment, watching 'crossbow-guy' walk to the house with an eyebrow raised. "Alrighty then." She muttered to herself, spinning on her heel to check that the Impala was secure.

She walked out of the garage and stopped in the large doorway, noticing that the day was moving along rather quickly; the bottom edge of the sun almost touched the top of the outline of the forest, it's yellow rays stained the clouds with shades of pink and purple and some stars that were dotted around faintly glistened. It was almost as if the world hadn't broken and for a second, Laura forgot. Laura forgot about the pressures she has had to face for her whole life; she forgot about the pressures of keeping people safe; she forgot about all the evil in the world; and she forgot that no matter what she did or how hard she tried, something always went wrong.

Laura sighed sadly, returning to the dark reality that had become impossibly darker and moved the rifle onto her other shoulder. Taking one last glance at the darkening sky, she smiled sadly, turned, then started to walk the short distance back to the house.

It was less than a minute before she entered through the back door and found a the group of survivors stood around the dining table. Dean held what she assumed was a silver knife by its blade with the handle pointed at Rick stood around the dining table.

"I don't see why we've gotta cut our skin to stay here." Rick calmly argued.

Laura moved around the room so she stood next to Dean at the top of the table. He went to retort, his shoulders tensing, about to yell.

Laura placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dean, dude. Calm." She murmured. He sighed and placed the knife on the table, harder than necessary, next to a large silver flask with a cross and the initials 'JW' embedded on it.

"It's to make sure you're not," he glared at Laura, before grudgingly adding, "Shape-shifters or any type of revenant."

"Woah hold up a sec'" Said crossbow-guy. "You ain't tellin' us that you believe in that shit?" Laura noted his slightly stereotypical red-neck accent.

"Sorry to break it to you, buddy, it's all real." Dean stated with a raise of an eyebrow.

"What do you mean 'it's all real'?" Questioned Rick.

"Ghosts, werewolves, vampires," Laura counted on her fingers and sounding like she'd said it for the millionth time, "we mean it's *all* real. We just want to make sure that you're not any of them."