Dean slept like a baby. No tossing or turning. Hours passed without him knowing. His body, worn out from stress and exhaustion, finally got the rest it needed.
A gentle shake on his shoulder woke him.
"Dean," a voice said. "Hey, wake up."
Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes. The bright light stung as he blinked awake. Slowly, his vision cleared. He was still in the same room, but everyone else was gone. Only Kenny stood nearby.
Dean shifted to sit up, and that's when he noticed his hands. Both were wrapped neatly in white bandages—a small part of his right arm, and his left palm covered where it still stung faintly. He flexed his fingers in surprise.
"What the hell…?" he muttered.
Seeing him stare, Kenny spoke. "Kristi did it after you fell asleep. You were out cold."
Dean blinked. "I didn't even notice…."
Even his Predator's instinct didn't falre up. Either it was because he was asleep or the ability detected that he wasn't in any danger in the first place.
"You cut yourself on the glass yesterday, right?" Kenny asked disturbing his line of thought.
"Just some tiny ones," Dean said slowly, remembering how he'd cleared the glass shrads in the window for an escape path, ignoring the sharp edges as people scrambled through. He had felt the sting, but the adrenaline made him push past it. Now, the dull ache lingered under the bandages.
"She's too good at this," Dean said quietly, shaking his head. "I didn't even wake up."
Kenny gave a faint smile. "She's patched up worse in this place."
Dean turned toward the window. Sunlight poured through the curtains in a golden strip. "What time is it?" he asked, voice rough.
"Nine o'clock," Kenny said.
Dean froze. "What? Nine? I slept that long? Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Why? Did you have something important to do?" Kenny asked calmly.
Dean frowned. "No, but still…"
Kenny smiled faintly. "You know how helpful you were yesterday, right? Breaking that window, helping people get out, staying back instead of running—you really helped."
Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Didn't you, Boyd and the others do the same thing?"
"Yeah," Kenny said with a nod, "but you've been here only a day. You didn't freeze, you didn't run, and you thought of others first. People noticed. They were thankful. And honestly… we all thought you deserved a good sleep."
Dean sighed, rubbing his neck. "You guys… I didn't do much."
"You did enough," Kenny said firmly.
Dean didn't argue. He stood with Kenny's help, feeling a sting in his palm as he moved, the bandages tugging slightly. The two stepped outside Tom's house.
"How are you doing?" Dean asked.
Kenny's face grew serious. "Better than yesterday."
Dean looked at him. "Was Mark… someone close to you?"
Kenny didn't answer right away. His eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened. Dean stayed quiet, giving him time.
At last, Kenny let out a long, heavy breath, ready to speak.
"When we first got here," he said slowly, "other than Boyd, who gave us direction, Mark was the one who helped us."
Dean stayed quiet, listening.
"The first few days were the hardest," Kenny went on, telling Dean everything Mark had done for him since they arrived. To Kenny, Mark wasn't just another face in the crowd—he was the reason they had survived those first brutal days.
Dean nodded after Kenny was done. "Sounds like he was a good man."
"He was," Kenny said firmly. "Better than most. Brave, too."
Dean listened quietly. He had no idea such a person existed in the original show, as he had never heard of this man before. Maybe Mark was there, just not explored yet, or maybe his story was meant to be revealed in seasons that hadn't aired yet.
All he could say was, "I'm sorry I couldn't help him last night."
Kenny shook his head. "Don't. You did what you could. None of this is your fault. Out there, it doesn't matter how strong or brave you are… the monsters always win." His fists tightened.
Dean looked at Kenny, seeing the grief mixed with anger in his eyes. It made him feel a pang of guilt. He couldn't help thinking that if he had reacted a little faster, things might have gone differently for Mark.
His mind went back to the night before. The chaos was still clear—the monsters breaking in, the screams, the rush of people running. He had his gun in the inventory, but in the heat of the moment he had forgotten about it. If he had shot at their legs, maybe he could have slowed them down. Maybe Mark could have escaped.
Still, Dean knew he hadn't just stood there. He had acted. He told people to head toward the basement. He smashed the windows to give them another exit. He fought to hold the path open, even when the glass tore his skin. He had done what he could in that frantic moment, even if it hadn't been perfect.
He admitted to himself that he had been panicking too. His heart had raced, his hands had shaken, and his breath had been short. He wasn't calm or collected, but he hadn't completely lost control either. He had managed to do something, and for that he couldn't tear himself apart.
A thought crossed his mind—if he had bought Iron Will earlier, maybe he would have been sharper and steadier. Maybe he would have seen more options. But he couldn't dwell on it for long. What was done was done. All he could do now was make sure he used every tool at his disposal going forward.
He pushed the guilt aside, keeping only a small trace of it as fuel. On the outside, he stayed quiet and steady. Inside, he made a promise—next time, he would be ready.
Dean was pulled out of his thoughts by Kenny.
"Hey," Kenny asked. "You ready for breakfast?"
Dean gave a small nod. "Yeah. Breakfast sounds good."
Kenny spoke as they both started walking towards the diner. "You'll want a full stomach before the ceremony. It starts in about an hour."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Ceremony? What about the funeral for Mark?"
Kenny answered Dean's question. "Right after the ceremony, the funeral will take place," he said quietly, his voice heavy with loss.
Dean didn't push. Death lingered everywhere here. After a pause, he asked the thing that had been eating at him since last night.
"Yesterday," Dean said, "the guy in the car… he was from Colony House, right?"
Kenny's jaw tightened, anger flashing across his face. "Yeah. That was Kevin. I had no idea he was completely under the thumb of the monsters."
A frown appeared on Dean's face. Inwardly, he couldn't help the disgust boiling up. How much of a simp was Kevin to even agree to something like that?
'Pathetic bastard', he thought. Selling out his own people because some freak whispered sweet nothings in his ear. If Kevin had lived through that crash, Dean would've put a bullet in his skull himself. Better to take out one dumbass traitor than let him keep feeding people to the wolves.
"What did Donna say?" Dean asked, curious as to how all this went down.
Kenny let out a long breath. "Boyd went up there this morning and ripped into her in front of everyone. Told her to get her people under control before somebody else ended up in a grave."
Dean raised a brow. "Boyd yelled at her? That must've been something."
"Yeah," Kenny said, half tense, half impressed. "Boyd doesn't lose it much, but when he does? People shut the hell up and listen. He told Donna their whole 'live free, live full' bullshit doesn't mean anything if their freedom gets everyone slaughtered. Said Kevin's crap nearly wiped us all out."
Dean pictured it—Boyd in Colony House, voice sharp, Donna standing her ground in front of her people.
Kenny continued. "Donna actually started off apologizing. Said what Kevin did was on her, that she should've kept a closer eye on her people. Promised it wouldn't happen again. You could tell she meant it—looked shaken, like she knew how bad it almost got."
He exhaled sharply. "But Boyd didn't let up. He pushed her even harder. That's when she snapped back, said he had no damn right to tell them how to live. Her people chose Colony House so they wouldn't be ordered around. They argued back and forth a little and then Boyd left. Tension's bad now. Like one more spark could blow the whole thing up."
Dean grunted. That was the last thing they needed. Monsters outside were already enough of a nightmare. Infighting inside would only make survival uglier.
They continued talking, as they made their way to the diner. The sun made the streets look calm, but both men knew it was a lie. Night always came back. So did the monsters.
When they reached the diner, people were already inside, speaking in low voices, the smell of food drifting out.
Kenny pushed the door open and held it for Dean. "Come on," he said. "Let's eat while we can."
Dean stepped inside and paused, taking in the room. The diner felt a bit louder than yesterday.
Behind the counter, Sara moved briskly, her hair tied back, sleeves rolled up. Tian stood beside her, working with the same focus, moving plates and pouring coffee like he'd been doing this his whole life. Despite the grim mood, both worked with steady hands, keeping the diner's rhythm alive.
At one booth sat the Matthews family. The family looked worn out but with the things that had happened yesterday, no one would blame them.
Across the room, Jade sat with Tobey. Dean's brows rose slightly; Jade had been out cold since he had arrived, but now he was awake, talking animatedly. His hands waved as he spoke, his voice loud enough for nearby tables to hear.
"If the road folds in on itself," Jade said quietly, "it's not just a loop. It's a distortion. Like a wormhole bending space. That's why we can't escape—it isn't the roads that are wrong. It's the space around us."
Tobey's brow furrowed. He didn't brush it off. "So you're saying the town is the center of the distortion. That everything pulls back here."
"Exactly." Jade's eyes were sharp, focused. "We keep thinking we're driving in circles, but it's not us. It's the geometry of this place. Space isn't supposed to behave like this—it's being bent."
Tobey sat back, silent for a moment as the idea settled in. Then he gave a faint, grim smile. "Its like we're trapped in a math problem with no solution."
Jade didn't flinch. "No. Every problem has a solution. We just haven't found it yet."
Dean gave Tobey a nod as he passed, then another to the Matthews family, who returned it quietly. Without a word, he moved to the counter where Sara was already watching him.
"How are you holding up?" she asked softly, her eyes flicking toward the bandages on his hands.
Dean gave a short shrug. "Still breathing. Can't complain."
Tian responded with a faint smile, his voice calm but steady. "Eat more. Recover soon"
She then set down two plates with eggs, bread, and fried potatoes. Kenny and Dean picked them up and headed to an empty booth. Just as they were about to sit, a loud clang echoed through the diner.
They turned and saw Sara on the floor behind the counter. A tray of utensils lay scattered around her. Her body shook hard, arms locked tight, legs kicking as she had a seizure. Her head hit the tiles with a dull thud.
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