An: I'm still working on Galaxy Cross but today I've had a terrible day and finally got the inspiration for this. On top of college, I'm also still trying to finish a story for a friend and battle anxiety. Be patient once more, and I'm sorry.  Also, please read the tags. Reader is going to be anorexic for the larger part of this story. Please, please, please be very careful reading it if you are triggered by such things.

     Sam rolled the jar of peanut butter over in his hands, missing the slightly sweet, thick sandwich paste. It had been nearly a year since the stake meant for Dick Roman's heart passed through without any harm. That night had been hellish. Castiel had disappeared during the resulting fight and he and Dean had barely escaped alive. It was like a miracle and had once again prompted Sam to begin praying for continued luck. Leviathans now publicly hunted the people they'd turned into human cattle, making it much harder to do things like take them down for it. Not many people drove these days after all. In fact, wildlife was beginning to creep back into the smaller towns and plant life was just starting to over take back roads.

     For something that really was the end of the world, it was a lot more peaceful than their last few brushes with it. Sighing, he put the spread back on the shelf. It was inedible, for him at least. Hearing a slight sound behind him, he turned to see his older brother sweep around the edge of the aisle, pistol held up before him; ready to shoot anything that moved suspiciously. "Anything, Sammy?" Sam shook his head and held up another pack of water and more bananas, the latter of which were getting increasingly ripe. Dick was slowly but surely removing foods without his precious syrup in it from the market entirely.

     "Son of a bitch." Dean lowered his gun and scratched the nape of his neck with one hand. Things were mostly peaceful yes, but they had also never been this bad. The apocalypse had never actually happened. "Sammy, we got to get outta here. Go up into the mountains to a safe house and...start hunting our own food, same as the biters."

     Sam felt the same sense of frustration he'd battled for months rising back up. "Dean, we can't do that! We're some of the last...lucid humans left and of those humans literally the last two hunters that I know of. Communications have gone down and motor travel is becoming impossible. Smaller towns are literally falling apart...Dean it's like I am Legend, but with leviathans. And we're-"

     "The only ones that have any chance in hell of stopping it, I know, I know. I just...can't keep up like this, Sammy. It's brutal. We should just summon Crowley and torture his bitch ass until he gives us details."

     "Last resort, Dean. We agreed. We still don't know what happened, but as far as we can tell...one of the parties involved gave us bad blood and I doubt it was an accident." Dean grumbled at this, but conceded. They were both just very tired.

     "Alright, alright. Let's just take our rabbit food and get back to our little hole in the wall. I'm tired, Sammy." Sam knew. He knew all too well. Dean was right, he reflected as they crept through back alleys toward the house where they'd stashed the Impala in the garage. They couldn't keep up like this. Something had to give eventually.

                                                                                x

     Upon finding the house swarming with biters, Dean was livid. They crawled all over his Impala, no doubt sniffing his scent like weird pack hounds and putting their unnatural hands all over his baby. Sam had to physically restrain him from bursting out of the bushes. It was no good. They couldn't subdue that many long enough to run with the car. They'd have to come back later; or at least, they were going to until the leviathans smashed in the windows and slashed the tires. Dean was close to tears at this. He hadn't been lying when he'd told his brother he couldn't take much more. Slinking away through another back alley, he brooded in anger. This wasn't over, not by a long shot.

     They traveled on foot to the other side of town, avoiding the large humans who'd been trained to call 911 at the sight of them and broke into another house that they'd deemed empty. Upon finding out they were correct, Dean let out a little whoop and collapsed on the couch, angrily tearing a banana to pieces before cramming it in his mouth. Sam snorted at the sight. Some things never changed. They were keeping an eye on the streets outside for any activity at all when a slight thump on the floor in an upstairs room called their attention. They both shared a look and drew their pistols, creeping up the stairs in dread. The last time, it had been a small child, finally discovered by a leviathan and eaten. They hadn't been in time to save the child, but they had given the creature as much hell for it as they could and taken the time to give the child a proper funeral, not the sad one a hunter usually received.

     When they reached the top of the stairs, they saw a brief hall with a window at the end through which sunlight streamed and a single door the left. There was fur in the patch of sun, as if the owners of the house had once kept a cat. The creature was long gone. They swung the door open standing to the sides and crept in, one at a time. It was a room, but they couldn't find any gender clues until closer inspection. While the walls were a dark green and the bed sheets a simple, matching shade, the books were romance and fantasy. Sam picked up a couple of cases from the neat bed while Dean poked around on the shelf and then checked the closet. "No one in here but us, Sam."

     "Looks like we've got a gamer's house. Let's see here...Things like The Last of Us, The Walking Dead, Fallout, Dishonored, and Skyrim."

     Dean shook his head. "Gamers always think they're ready for the apocalypse." They both turned too late at the slightest noise behind them, just in time for Dean to receive a book to the jaw. He held it in annoyance, looking down at the small girl who'd chucked it into his face.

     "They sure prepared me..." She stood awkwardly. "You're supposed to fall over unconscious now. Please don't eat me."

     As always, Sam was the first to speak, using his delicate, pretty words to calm the survivor. "Are you a hunter?" He asked softly, taking in her tiny, doll-like frame and immediately doubting it.

     "Only once on World of Warcraft. I thought that class sucked so I never tried it again." Sam blinked at her nonchalance. "But no, I'm not the kind you're thinking of."

     "What kind would that be, sweet cheeks?" Dean asked with his usual decorum, jaw only slightly red still.

     "The kind that hunts the monsters. The kind that...keeps dying." The brothers shared a look. This could turn out to be a useful break.

                                                                                             x

     Seated comfortably in the living room with the shades drawn, the boys looked at you from across the table and over cups of coffee that you had made for them. You yourself had gotten nothing but instead watched them with surprisingly alert eyes. They asked you all kinds of questions and you answered, revealing your main strategy was not leaving the house unless under the cover of night. You told them you'd been going next door for food, brushing off the lie with a little guilt. They bought it, having seen the veritable Doom's Day bunker parked in the yard next to your own. In return, you asked them questions and learned that this was all being caused by corn syrup in the processed foods.

     Never had you been so relived for having an eating disorder before. It seemed that being reluctant to eat anything had actually saved your life. You kept this to yourself, instead quietly nodding and explaining away your apparent survival as being a health nut; saying you only ate fresh fruits and vegetables and drank water and took supplemental vitamins whenever you could find them. It worked. They seemed to think you were in excellent health. You invited them to use your bathroom to shower off. With the power companies being over run by giant, sluggish humans, no one had thought to turn anything off. It all still worked, and gave you a way to stay in relative comfort.

     You were debating allowing yourself a cup of tea when you heard a loud yell from the garage and yelped in horror before realizing it was more of a sound of joy. Shakily, you let yourself in to find Dean circling your graduation present with incredulous eyes. "Is this...1967?" You nodded, too stunned. You'd told your parents for years of your dream car and once you'd received your diploma, it had been waiting at home for you. "I just lost mine earlier to those toothy assholes..." You smiled. Joy was a rare thing these days.

     "Y-you can take it when you go if you want." You so liked the look of happiness on Dean's dreary face that you didn't even hesitate. Dean turned to look at you, his jaw dropping.

     "There's no way me and Sammy are just going to leave a civilian behind. I'm not saying it's any safer with us but...We can protect you if and when we're finally found." There was a noise of agreement from behind you in the doorway and you turned to see a newly washed Sam tucking wet strands of creamy chocolate hair behind his ears.

     "Dean's right. This town is over run, even worse than some of the others we've been through." His voice was gentle and you found yourself cherishing it just as much as you liked that rare looking smile on Dean. Before you could really think it over with yourself, you were nodding in agreement.

     "I...I could be persuaded to leave, certainly. I'll just...pack my things. Help yourself to the supplies next door. The neighbor got snapped up a while back by one of the free roaming ones." Excusing yourself upstairs, you began shoving the clothes from your closet and floor into a duffle bag before grabbing the book you were reading and the next few sequels and shoving them in. Lastly, you picked up the empty pill bottle that had been sitting on your night stand and looked wistfully at it. You had long since run out of the pills that treated your urge not to eat, leaving you in the boat you were now in. You chucked the bottle into the closet the boys had left open and tried vainly to pick up your bag. It was far too heavy for you. Hearing a laugh from the doorway, you looked up as Dean brushed by you and picked the duffle right off the bed as if it were a feather to him. Judging by his muscles, a feather weight was probably right.

     As you were leaving the room, Dean stopped you and picked up the bottle from the closet before handing it to you. You inwardly screamed but relaxed when you saw he didn't scan the label. "Thanks, but it was just an antibiotic I stopped taking long ago." He nodded, but you pocketed it anyway and followed him down to your garage, saying your goodbyes to the house that had been your home for years.