Five Years Later

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Hope

[writer's note] this chapters may be particularly triggering to anyone who has ever suffered from depression, anxiety, or been suicidal because of how devastated Cas is after Dean's death, so if you are worried, you shouldn't read--keep yourself safe! [end writer's note]

They were leaving the bunker.

Cas couldn't believe his ears but given his condition, he was in no way able to speak and fight against this injustice.

The generators had given out. When the candles placed on the floor had begun to mysteriously blow out, despite the lack of breeze in the bunker, Charlie did some tests, and the oxygen levels were depleting. The filters were jammed or some other shit—essentially, not enough air was getting in and the only way to relieve the problem, however temporarily, would have been to leave the bunker door wide open and allow fresh air to circulate. The issue with that was, naturally, that they were in the midst of an apocalypse and it would be incredibly dangerous to be so vulnerable, both to walkers and to the Saviors, wherever they had gone.

The plans to move to the coast were once again resuscitated from, as Cas understood, earlier that year. Most everything was already packed, and they didn't have much of a choice. It was leave, and battle the hundreds of walkers that had begun to pile up outside from the passing horde, or wait them out and possibly suffocate and starve. The decision was made without Cas' input. He was unable to give it, as much as he would have liked to.

"Who in their right mind is going to be the first or last person outside of that damn door?" Bobby spat. Cas was hovering near the table, slumped over in a chair with a dejected air about him. "The first out is a death sentence, and same with the last. They will have to close the bunker door behind them and lock it—simply the time required to do that is enough to trap them in suspense with a walker and be unable to fight back.

"I'll do it."

That was as much as Cas could say without being weakened to the point of unconsciousness.

"Cas, no." Bobby sighed. "It's a suicide mission."

"I know." Cas retorted. The rest of the room gazed at him in a curiously offended stupor. Their attempts to bring him back to life had come to no fruition. The only person who had come close to breaking through was little Joanna and her sweetness, which had coerced him into the mediated state of living he now found himself in.

"I will go out first." Mandy raised her hand tentatively, brandishing the small pistol she had been carrying in it. "Lacey will back me up. Cas, you've been away from fighting walkers. You're rusty. Let us take care of the hard part. You can come out last and close the door. We'll cover you so you will be safe."

Cas pondered this for a moment. He could go out fighting, with a duty and purpose. He could save lives by losing himself. How bad was that? Certainly, it could not be as terrible as wasting away like he was now. He nodded to Mandy, and the room collectively sighed in relief. They thought he had hope to live—how sorely mistaken they were.

"We'll head out in five." Bobby pulled away from the table, and Cas shuddered. "Get the supplies together. Who is covering Joanna and Katharine?"

"I will." Ron nodded from where he stood, leaning against the wall. "You can count on me. Which people are carrying supplies?"

Bobby paused, glancing around the room at the luggage they had piled against the walls and the willing carriers of it, who stood in anticipation around the table.

"Everyone will carry something." Bobby sighed. "There's hardly enough of us as it is."

He nodded to Charlie, who took it as her cue, and held up the inventory clipboard that had listed everything they were packing for the move.