Just then, Dean noticed someone walking down the road. A woman with a strong build for her age and long strides, moving like she belonged here.
"Here's my cue," Dean muttered.
He turned back to the porch. "Thanks for the talk. And you—" he pointed at Maegan, still swinging hard—"don't let go of those chains, big kid."
"I won't!" she shouted.
Dean gave her a two-finger salute, then looked to her parents. "Have a nice evening."
Frank nodded. Lauren just hugged her arms tight, eyes following Dean like she wanted to say more.
Dean didn't wait. He stepped off the porch and walked toward the woman. She stopped when he did, her sharp eyes sizing him up.
"Dean," he said, holding out his hand.
"Donna." Her handshake was firm, almost like a test.
Dean smiled. "You part of the welcoming crew?"
"Something like that," Donna said. "Sorry I'm late. Got held up."
Dean shrugged. "I've been keeping busy." He glanced back at Maegan, then at her again. "So… you give all the newcomers a tour?"
"Usually Fatima does," Donna said. "She's better at it. But this time, I came myself."
Dean raised a brow. "Special treatment, huh? I thought I was just another unlucky bastard."
"You are," Donna said flatly. Then softer, "But the way you showed up… it's different."
Dean gave her a look. "What's so special about it? Other than me still breathing?"
Donna drew in a breath, and gestured Dean to walk along with her towards the colony house. Then after a second or so she muttered, "When I came here, it was me and my sister. We drove in after dark."
Dean's eyes narrowed as he listened. He already knew the story—Donna had once told it to Tabitha Matthews in the show to calm her—but he still focused, paying close attention.
"There was a man standing in the middle of the road, blocking us. Just standing there, smiling like he had all the time in the world. My sister thought he was some creep. She grabbed her gun and got out to scare him off." Donna's jaw tightened. "She didn't even get a chance to aim."
Dean's brow furrowed, but he stayed quiet.
"Next thing I know, claws ripped into her. More of them came out of the dark, and they dragged her down. They tore her apart and ate her up while I sat there… too stunned to move." Donna's voice hitched, just once, before she forced it steady again. "Then I ran. I didn't stop. I found a place to hide and stayed there till sunrise. That's the only reason I'm alive."
He looked at her, reading the grief and the complex emotions layered together in her tone. She carried the story like a scar, one that never fully healed.
"Sorry about your sister," he said softly.
Donna stayed silent for a moment as they walked, her story still hanging in the air, sharp and heavy.
On the other hand many things surged in Dean's mind. 'Why the hell is she telling me this? We just met. I barely know her. Why dump all this on me?'
He kicked a loose stone and watched it roll into the dirt, thinking that she wanted him to see how fragile survival here really was.
Or maybe she just felt a kind of kinship. That night she survived—it mirrored his own hellish experience, the fear, the rush, the fight to stay alive. That alone might connect them somehow.
Donna's voice cut through his thoughts,"We are the only two people in this cursed place who survived after arriving in the dark." She looked at him, eyes filled with emotions, almost drilling into him. "I hope you understand just how lucky you are among all the hundreds of people here. Cherish your life, Dean."
Her words stuck. Lucky. Cherish. Not just a warning—they were a plea. He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure whether to feel grateful or uneasy.
Dean caught something in Donna's tone—soft, careful, the kind of voice a mother used when guiding her child through danger. The warning laced with care made him pause, and he sighed, shaking his head. Maybe he was just overthinking it, like he always did. Or maybe… maybe he just missed his mom.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that people here got too damn emotional whenever someone new showed up. It wasn't hard to guess why. Every fresh arrival was a reminder of the days when they themselves had first stumbled into this place, scared and lost. Maybe that's all Donna was feeling—pity for him, or the weight of her own memories pressing in.
He didn't say anything and stopped his overthinking which really had became a problem since he arrived here. Instead deciding to change the subject.
"Boyd told me that these monsters… they like to fuck with our heads, mess with us, manipulate us to get their way," Dean said, glancing at her as they walked.
Donna nodded, her expression grim. "Yeah. They're nasty sons of bitches.They'll use anything they can. Your doubts, your grief. That's their edge."
Dean muttered, "Living here that long… it's gotta break people. Who's been stuck the longest?"
Donna thought for a moment. "A few have been here more than five years, some closer to seven. But there's one kid....Victor… he's unique. Born here. Never known anything else."
Dean exhaled slowly through his mouth, letting the air escape. "Shit… that must be hell for Victor. I would've gone insane if I had to live here that long."
"Victor may not be far from that point," Donna spoke clearly unsure.
Dean sighed, shifting the conversation back to the main topic. "If you don't mind me asking… with everyone living in Colony House… God forbid, wouldn't there be a chance for someone to get completely fucked in the head by these things? And what if… they opened a window, or a door… letting one in…" His voice trailed off.
Donna shook her head. "All the windows in Colony House are nailed shut. No one can open them. And the people here—we look out for each other. With that many eyes around, someone trying to pry one open from the inside is damn near impossible."
Dean scoffed inwardly at her certainty.
'Tell that to the ones who died that night,' he thought. Although it hadn't happened yet, but he could still remember the episode of the show where the man in the colonyhouse let in a monster who he thought was the love of his life and then hell descended on the house. It all went down while everyone else was busy partying and drinking.
Donna went on,"Your doubt isn't baseless. Most people who choose to stay in town share the same fear. But I assure you—it won't happen here."
Dean shook his head. "Donna, you can't always watch every single person in Colony House twenty-four seven. People crack. That's just the truth."
She smiled faintly, almost amused. "You're throwing out a lot of what-ifs. But if you think town is safer than Colony House, you'd be dead wrong." She didn't elaborate further, her tone closing the door on the subject like it wasn't hers to explain.
Dean didn't need her to explain. He already knew. He'd seen it play out on the show—Boyd's wife losing her mind, the gunfire, the bodies. The town wasn't safe either. But that was in the past, and from the three seasons he'd watched, nothing like it ever happened again... except for the time when the monsters tricked the townspeople into coming outside by releasing the cows and other animals from the barn.
He pressed anyway, choosing his words carefully. "Look, I'm not saying you guys don't have a system. But maybe… it wouldn't hurt to run some routine checks. On people. On doors. On the windows. Just to make sure no one's cracking under the pressure. At least then, everyone would feel a little safer."
Donna tilted her head, considering. Then she gave a small, approving nod. "Not a bad idea. For a big group like us, it might even help keep people grounded."
Dean shrugged, forcing a half-smile. "Peace of mind can go a long way when you're living in a nightmare."
Donna chuckled under her breath. "That it can. You might be new here, Dean, but you think like someone who's been through a few storms."
Dean smiled. "Yeah, well, I've seen enough rain to know when to carry an umbrella." He waved it off and steered the conversion. "So tell me, what's the real difference between town and Colony House? Besides the headcount."
Donna answered quickly, "That's a long conversation. But the short version? In Colony House, we live. In town, they survive. Some folks prefer order, rules, curfews, all that. Here… we take what freedom we can. Even if it comes with risk."
Dean arched a brow. "Freedom in a place like this sounds like a dangerous luxury."
Donna shot him a sideways glance. "Maybe. But some of us would rather burn out fast living on our own terms than rot away under someone else's rules."
Dean rubbed his fingers, thinking. That kind of attitude is exactly why the massacre happened in the show. But he didn't say it.
As they talked, the road opened up and the Colony House came into view. Donna took him inside and started doing the introductions. One face after another, names flying at him faster than bullets. Dean tried to keep up, but honestly? His brain tapped out around the fifth handshake.
She guided him through the chaos, explaining little things along the way—rules that weren't really rules, traditions that kept people sane, and details that mattered if he ever decided to stay. Where the food was stored. How the watch rotations worked. Why some doors stayed bolted no matter what.
By the time they stepped back outside, he felt like he'd just run a social marathon. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
Meanwhile Donna, despite his protests, insisted on walking him back to the post office.
As they neared it, she slowed, giving him this smug little smile. "Now I'm sure where you'll choose to live."
Dean smiled back, though a little bit of guilt stayed with him.
She knew. She saw right through him — that he'd already picked the town.
He was about to say something smart, maybe crack a joke to cover it up, but the sound of an engine cut through the evening.
They both turned as an RV rolled into view, slowing with a cloud of dust. Dean recognised the moment he saw it.
'The Matthews are here,' he thought, a creepy feeling running down his spine.
And just like that, he knew—this was the start. One fucked-up mess after another, all ready to blow wide open.
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