the farm.
Everything is going to be fine. I hate it when people say that, people who have absolutely no idea of what's coming next. They turn you into an idiot for even asking

THEY were running.

Rick was holding Carl's almost lifeless body, in his arms as he ran, crying and panicking.

It's all your fault. You should have moved faster. You should've done more. The voice in Octavia's head kept telling her. She already felt bad enough, and now she's making it worse by blaming herself and seeing the faults in her brave but stupid move.

Tears blinded her as she ran, running as quickly as her long legs could carry her.

Holding her right hip tightly, blood dripping through her fingers, staining her hands a deep red, Octavia quickened her pace to an all out sprint as she struggled to catch up with Rick who was holding his almost lifeless son in his arms.

The loud thumps that her feet were making coming in contact with the ground matched her heart throbbing inside her chest with the thick grief and fear she felt as she ran.

What if Carl didn't survive?

What if she wasn't quick enough and the bullet hit a major artery?

"How far?!" Rick yelled back at the guy who had shot Carl. The guy didn't answer back because he was trying to catch his breathe. "How far!?" He repeated a lot louder and more demanding, his voice breaking at the end.

"Another half mile, that way!" The guy yelled, pointing straight ahead of them. "Hershel, talk to Hershel- he'll help your boy!" He yelled, bending over, trying to catch his breath, and as Rick ran off again, Shane grabbed the man tightly and pushed him forward.

"Come on!"

They ran until they made it to a two story farm house. There was an old man with a white beard standing out on the front porch along with three other people.

"Was he bit?" The old man - who was most likely Hershel - asked, looking at the very pale boy in Rick's arms.

"Shot-"Rick rasped out. "By your man."

"Otis?" A woman asked as she stepped forward, a look of skepticism on her face.

"Are you Hershel?!" Octavia grounded out, stepping up to her full height - which wasn't that tall. "The man said to find Hershel," she said as the old man turned to look at her harshly. "Help him!" she exclaimed, pointing to Carl as she felt a wave of pain shoot up her right side.

"Get him inside!" Hershel yelled out, leading the way through the house, and he pulled p his sleeves as he did so. "Patricia, I need my full kit," He demanded to the older woman. "Maggie-"

"Yeah?" A young brunette stepped forward.

"Painkillers, coagulates-" He started, but paused in thought. "Grab everything."

As they all rushed around to try and help Carl, Octavia couldn't help but not look away from him. Seeing him like this, reminded her of the first time Sam died.

She was such a mess, a bigger mess that Dean, but that was a given since she was also closer to Sam growing up. Maybe it was because they were twins, because, after all, twins have a deeper bond.

"Is-is he alive?" Rick asked, laying his son on the bed, his eyes glazing over with pure fear for his child.

Please, God, if you're real, please don't let him die. He's too young to die.

"Pillowcase, quick," Hershel ordered Rick who quickly ripped the pillow case off of the pillow.

"Is he alive?" Octavia rasped out. She felt her eyes droop a little so she straightened up, not allowing herself to fall asleep, especially not right now.

"Fold it - make a pad," He told Rick and the sheriff obliged. "Put pressure on the wound." He lifted Carl's shirt.

Octavia stared at the wound with wide eyes. We can't lose Carl, too.

Hershel checked Carl's heartbeat with his stethoscope. "I've got a heartbeat-" He informed them. "It's faint," He added which made Octavia suck in a breathe.

"Step back," The woman - Patricia - ordered both Rick and Octavia who turned to her with wide eyes full of terror.

"Maggie, IV," Hershel ordered.

"We need some space," Maggie ordered Rick as Octavia leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath.

"Your name?" Hershel turned to a visibly shaking Rick.

"R-Rick," the sheriff answered, not allowing his eyes to leave Carl's lifeless looking body.

Hershel turned to Octavia who tried to straighten up, but physically couldn't. A pain shot up through her hip to her right arm which is the arm she fell onto after getting shot. She began breathing heavily and sweating profusely.

"What's wrong?" Hershel asked as he made his way towards her with cautious steps, his eyes widening as he saw the blood seeping from her wound. "Are you bit?"

"Bullet wound," she gasped out, trying to keep her eyes open.

"She jumped in front of Carl when he was shot," Rick told Hershel as they both looked at her with wide eyes. "She must've got hit."

"That's a huge thing to do," Hershel said with a nod. He cleared his throat and stepped closer to her, lifting her shirt up to see the damage and she began cringing when the shirt was peeled off of her skin. His eyes widened. "You're definitely going to need stitches."

"Patricia." He gained her attention. "Take her to another room and stitch her up."

Patricia obliged and led Octavia to another bedroom.

She left Octavia on the bed for a few minutes before coming back with a first aid kit. She brought out a needle and some wire to stitch up the wound.

"This is going to hurt " She said, bringing out some rubbing alcohol and clothes.

Octavia clenched her jaw and balled her hands into fists as Patricia doused her wound with the rubbing alcohol, making sure the area was clean and not infected before she began slowly and carefully stitching up the wound.

The bullet hold didn't make a hole or anything too serious, but it did go beneath the surface just a bit to produce a lot of blood loss. It was a good six inch wound.

Octavia breathes out a shaky breath and noticed Patricia's hands shaking, probably due to nerves, which was understandable.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she saw the look Octavia had on her face.

Octavia winced as the needle pierced her skin before shaking her head. "Don't be sorry." The older woman looked up at her with wide eyes. "I get it, I do." She winced again as the needle pierced a soft spot that already had a barely healed cut on it. "I would do it myself, but I feel like I won't be able to get halfway through before passing out."

Octavia didn't like feeling this week or pathetic, but in times of need, much like this, she couldn't help it. At least Carl had a better chance of surviving because of her.

"How much have you eaten lately?" She asked the raven haired Winchester.

Octavia thought for a second before shrugging. "I don't think i've eaten at all today, honestly,"

Patricia looked at her with disbelieving eyes before nodding. "I'll finish this up and then i'll grab you something to eat."

PATRICIA came into the room with two sandwiches and a water bottle, and Octavia smiled in thanks, taking the sandwiches from her. She laid the water bottle down on the nightstand beside the bed before biting into one of the sandwiches which were calling out her name.

Patricia then left, going to check up on Carl.

And after Octavia finished her food, she felt even more exhausted, so she laid down, and closed her eyes. Almost instantly, she fell into an oblivion,

She was stuck.

Stuck on wires that was connected to every inch of her body.

The pain was unbearable.

She then realized were she was - hell.

This was a memory from her first time in hell. The pain was terrible, she could barely hold on. In her head, she heard Dean's pleas for her to not go as she just stared off into nothingness, her once life filled blue eyes, turned dull. There was no hope, there was no hope for her anymore.

Right before she completely died - after the hell hounds torn her to shreds- Dean pleaded for her to not die. It was the worst thing she had ever heard. She heard the sadness and the lost of hope in his voice.

And then Sam's voice made it's way to her. They were both panicking and pleading with her to hold on, to never let go.

But, the thing is, she had to let go. she could barely even open her eyes without feeling some type of pain.

And right before she fell into oblivion, she told her brothers something that she never told them before.

"I love you guys, please stay safe," those were her last words to them she took her last breathe.

She had never, not even once, told them that she loved them. She just kinda thought that they already knew. But, that was the right thing to say in that moment.

As soon as she fell under, all she felt was pain, loneliness, and hopelessness.

It really sucked being tortured for four months, which was years and years in the pit.

Gasping for air, Octavia woke up, holding her right hand to her chest as she heaved in and out. That was the first time in forever that she had had that nightmare.

A silent tear fell down her cheek as she remembered her brothers.

She had to find them.

OCTAVIA sat up on the bed as she heard a cry of pain from the room Carl was in. She got up out of the bed as fast as she could without opening the stitches.

She made it down the hall and looked into the bedroom that held Carl. He was screaming in pain while they held him down as Hershel tried taking the bullet pieces out.

Octavia gulped, feeling guilty, If only she moved faster, she could've prevented this, but no, she was too slow. She felt so useless because she could've done so much better, so much more to make sure that Carl was safe.

She might not be a hundred percent comfortable with the group yet, but her job was to protect people, and to not stop a kid from almost getting shot was really getting to her. After all, she loved kids, she has always wanted one of her own, but never could have one with the life she was leading,

She made her way over to them and helped with holding Carl down.

"Ma'am you should be resting," Patricia said, placing her hand on Octavia's shoulder, but the girl ignited her. Helping Carl was way more important than herself.

"Stop - you're killin' him!" Rick yelled out, shaking running a hand through his hair, his eyes wide in terror as he cried out for his son.

"Rick, do you want him to live?" Hershel asked, never taking his eyes off of Carl who continued to cry and grunt in pain. He looked to be having a seizure, and it hurt Octavia's heart to see him like this.

"He needs blood."

"Do it now!" Shane yelled at Rick who looked in shock, his blue eyes were wide.

Patricia grabbed his arm and stabbed the needle into it. And eventually, Carl ended up calming down.

Octavia sighed in relief as she saw him breathe in and out slowly. "He's fine," she spoke to Rick and Shane who were freaking out. "Just passed out."

Hershel took out a piece of a bullet, looking at it with narrowed eyes. "One down." He placed the bullet piece in a bowl. "Five to go."

"I need some air," Octavia spoke after a second of silence, running a hand down her face.

"Don't do too much to where you pull those stitches," Hershel told her as she walked away. He sighed and looked back to the young boy on the bed in front of him, hoping he would survive this.

Once outside, Octavia looked around at the farm land and couldn't help but smile. It was so beautiful and peaceful, none of the walking dead in eye sight. It looked like it would've before the apocalypse.

She sat down on the porch swing and sighed. She missed the bunker at times like this.

The bunker was like a home to the Winchester's, the only home they can remember. But, of course that was all taken away from them because of this stupid apocalypse.

Letting another sigh, she got up from the porch swing, and made her way back inside.

Once she walked back into the room which occupied the others, she heard Hershel say, "He's out of danger for the moment, but I need to remove those remaining fragments."

"How?" the raven haired Winchester asked as she approached them. "You saw how he was."

"I know, and that was the shallowest one," Hershel explained, glancing between the three of them. "I need to go deeper to get the others."

"Fuck," Octavia mumbled, her eyes widening as she glanced over at poor Carl. The young boy deserved better than this.

"There's more," Hershel spoke up, making them all turn their attention to him.

"Tell me," Rick demanded.

"His belly's distended, his pressure's dropping, which means there's internal bleeding. A fragment must have nicked one of the blood vessels. I have to open him up, find the bleeder and stitch it. And he can't move while I'm in there. I mean, at all. If he reacts the same as before, I'll sever an artery and he'll be dead in minutes. To even try this, I have to put him under. But if I do, he won't be able to breathe on his own. Same bad results."

Rick could barely hold himself together. He was on the brink of falling apart and who could blame him, he was close to losing his twelve year old son. "What will it take?"

"You need a respirator." Otis spoke up, gaining their attention. "What else?"

"The tube that goes with it, extra surgical supplies, drapes, sutures." Hershel listed.

"If you had that, could you save him?" Rick asked, hope shining in his question.

"If I had all that, I could try." Hershel admitted, not wanting to put their hopes up.

"The nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago," Otis said, then paused. "The high school."

"That's what I was thinkin'," Hershel said, nodding. "They set up a FEMA shelter there. They would have everything we need."

"The place was overrun last time I saw it. You couldn't get near it-" Otis cut himself off. "Maybe it's better now."

"I said leave the rest to me. It's too late to take that back," Shane said sarcastically, chuckling lightly.

"I hate you goin' alone," Rick said, looking at his best friend with guilty eyes.

Octavia was about to volunteer when Otis spoke up. "I'll take him there," He offered. "Ain't but five miles." 

"Otis. No." Patricia went to beg him not to go, but he cut her off.

"Honey, we don't have time for guesswork and I'm responsible. I ain't gonna sit here while this fella takes this on alone. I'll be all right," He spoke, looking at the older woman with soft eyes. She really did feel bad about what he had done.

"Are you sure about this?" Shane asked, looking him up and down, scrutinizing.

"Do you even know what any of the stuff he's talking about looks like?" Otis asked, looking to Shane with raised eyebrows.

"Come to think, no," Shane said after a moment of realization, shaking his head.

"I've been a volunteer EMT. I do. Now, we can talk about this 'till next Sunday, or we could just go do it real quick," Otis announced.

"I'll take right quick," Shane told him.

"I should thank you," Rick spoke, looking to Otis.    

"Wait till that boys up and around. Then we'll talk." Otis spoke, his eyes displaying guilt. "I'll gather some things."  He then walked away.

"Where is she - your wife?" The brunette - Maggie, asked, making Rick turn to her with wide eyes.

AFTER Maggie came back with Lori, Octavia found herself outside, giving the family some time alone. After all, it was the least she could do after the fact that she was too slow to stop the mullet fully.

About an hour later, after Rick had given some more blood to Carl, they found theirselves in the kitchen to discuss things.

"Okay, so I understand, when Shane gets back with this other man-" Lori started, but Hershel interrupted her.

"Otis."

"Otis," She repeated, looking at Hershel with harsh eyes. "The idiot who shot my son." She leaned on a chair with her hands.

"Ma'am, it was an accident," Hershel told her kindly, trying to calm the situation down before it got out of hand.

"I'll take that under advisement later. For now, he's the idiot who shot our son," She spat, narrowing her dark eyes at Hershel who only nodded with soft eyes.

Rick reached across and placed his hand on her's. "Lori, they're doing everything they can to make it right."

"Okay, as soon as they get back you can perform this surgery?" She asked Hershel after she wiped a tear when it skidded down her cheek.

"I'll certainly do my best," Hershel told her honestly.

Octavia leaned against the counter, guilt taking over her face. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her jaw. She was also so angry that she couldn't do more than sit here and watch Carl suffer through this.

"Okay... I mean, you've done this procedure before?"

"Well, yes, in a sense," Hershel told her, clearing his throat as she sent him a glare in disbelieve.

"In a sense?" Lori repeated, annoyance and anger taking over her face.

"Honey, we don't have the luxury of shopping for a surgeon," Rick told his wife, trying to shine some light on the situation.

She grabbed his hand with her right one and patted it. "No, I understand that," she said, licking her lips. "But, I mean, you're a doctor, right?" She asked Hershel who nodded.

"Yes, ma'am. Of course," He said. "A vet."

"A veteran - a combat medic?" She asked him with shock and surprise flowing through her words.

"A veterinarian," He corrected her, giving her a look.

Her eyes went wide and she was lost for words. "And you've done this surgery before on what? Cows... pigs?" She asked him in disbelief, shaking her head.

"Calm down, Lori," Octavia told her, clenching her jaw in annoyance. "He's trying his best here. We all are."

"I-I have to sit," Rick spoke as he stumbled to sit down on a chair, spilling the orange juice that Hershel had given him after he had given more blood.

"Completely in over your head, aren't you?" Lori asked Hershel, running Rick's shoulder's.

"Ma'am, aren't we all?"

"HEY."

Octavia turned around to be met by Lori, the woman having her arms crossed, and a hard look on her face.

"Rick told me that you jumped in front of the bullet for Carl," She said and Octavia nodded, lifting up her shirt slowly, revealing the stitched wound. Lori gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Thank you so much. You might've saved our son's life."

Octavia nodding, sending the woman a smile. "That's my job, so it's no problem."

Lori sniffled, nodding. "That was your second time risking your life for saving his."

Octavia shrugged, but silently kissed as pain shot up her right shoulder. "It's no problem, really. I just wish I was fast enough to stop the whole bullet."

"You did enough for this family," She told Octavia and then turned around, walking back into Carl's room.

Octavia huffed and then bit her lip, looking down at the wound. "I don't think I did enough..." she trailed off, closing her eyes.