Dean was in a dim hallway, grimly turning towards a door and pulled out a gun. He slid out the clip, tapped it on the gun, then replaced it. Inside the room, there was a Crater Lake poster on the wall. Below it, a young blond man, Duane, was tied to a chair. Nearby, were a young woman, Pam, a middle-aged woman, Dr. Lee, and a tough-looking black man, Mark. Duane looked up as Dean opened the door and entered, raising the gun.
Duane began babbling. "No, no, no, no, no, you're not gonna... no, I swear! It's not in me!"
"Oh, God," Pam said. "We're all gonna die."
"Maybe he's tellin' the truth," Mark guessed.
Dean advanced and cocked the gun. "He's not him, not anymore."
"No, stop it!" Duane cried. "Stop it! Ask her, ask the doctor! It's not in me!"
"I just... I can't tell," Dr. Lee admitted.
"No, please, don't. Don't. I swear I-"
"I got no choice," Dean said.
Duane started sobbing. "I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me! Don't, don't. Please!"
Dean fired twice.
MOTEL ROOM
Sam was lying on the floor beside a motel bed and coming out of his vision. Kit was crying. The door opened and Dean entered, chewing on jerky and carrying a six-pack of beer. Sam sat up, panting.
"Sam?" Dean called.
"No..." Sam said.
The three got into the Impala. Dean was driving, Kit was in back, and Sam was navigating with a GPS device which spoke directions.
"Continue on O-R Two-Two-Four West."
"There are only two towns in the US named Rivergrove," Sam told his brother.
"How come you're so sure it's the one in Oregon?" Dean asked.
Sam had a flashback -- the Oregon poster on the wall. "There was a picture. Crater Lake."
"Okay, what else?"
"I saw a dark room, some people, and a guy tied to a chair."
"And I ventilated him?"
"Yeah. You thought there was something inside him."
"What, a demon? Was he possessed?"
"I don't know."
"Well, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow... so was there any back smoke? Did I try to exorcise it?"
"No. Nothing, you just plugged him, that's it."
"Well, I'm sure I had a good reason."
"I sure hope so."
"What does that mean?" There was a silent beat. "I mean, I'm not gonna waste an innocent man." Sam raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't!"
"I never said you would!"
"Fine!"
"Fine! Look, we don't know what it is. But whatever it is, that guy in the chair's a part of it. So let's find him, and see what's what."
"Fine."
"Fine."
RIVERGROVE STREET
The three pulled into town past a large billboard advertising Crater Lake. They pulled up in front of a wooden shop. Out front, a man in a short-sleeved blue shirt and a multi-pocket brown vest, Mark was cleaning a rifle. Sam, Dean and Kit got out and approached him.
"Morning," Dean greeted.
"Good morning," Mark replied. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah." Dean pulled out a badge. "Uh, Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard. Pardon the kid. U.S. Marshals."
"What's this about?"
"We're looking for someone," Sam told him. "A young man, early 20s," Sam added, flashing to his vision. "He'd have a, a thin scar right below his hairline."
"What'd he do?" Mark asked.
"Well, nothing. We're actually looking or someone else, but we think this young man could help us."
"Yeah, he's not in any kind of trouble or anything; well, not yet," Dean said, glancing down at Mark's left arm, which showed a distinctive tattoo. "I think maybe you know who he is... Master Sergeant." He smiled. "My dad was in the Corps, he was a Corporal."
"What company?"
"Echo-2-1."
"So can you help us?" Sam questioned.
Mark hesitated. "Duane Tanner's got a scar like that. But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean."
"Oh, I'm sure he does," Dean replied. "Um. You know where he lives?"
"With his family, up Aspen Way."
"Thank you."
They left. Mark frowned as he watched them go. Across the street, Sam bumped into a telephone pole and glanced at it in passing. He stopped, seeing a single word carved into the wood: CROATOAN.
They approached the pole and Sam pointed at the word with a significant look. "Hey."
"Croatoan?" Dean repeated.
"Yeah." Dean looked at him blankly. "Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell? Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?"
"Yeah! Shot 'heard round the world, How bills become laws..."
"That's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock."
"Whatever."
"Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America, late 1500s."
"Oh, yeah, yeah, I do remember that. The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree. Croatoan."
"Yeah. And I mean, there were theories -- Indian raid, disease, but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone. I mean, wiped out overnight."
"You don't think that's what's going on here, I mean..."
"Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good. But what do you think could do that?"
"Well, I mean, like I said, all of your weirdo visions are always connected to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so..."
"We should get help. Bobby, uh, Ellen maybe?"
"Yeah, that's a good idea." Dean pulled out his phone and frowned at it. "I don't have a signal."
Sam did the same and shook his head. "I don't either."
They walked to a pay phone and Dean picked it up. He heard the out of service beeping and clicked the receiver several times. Kit touched the phone curiously.
"Line's dead," Dean said, hanging up. "I'll tell you one thing. If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step."
They drove to the Tanner house, in the middle of nowhere. Sam, Dean and Kit approached the front. By the door was a small tacky plaque that read, BORN TO FISH; FORCED TO WORK. Sam knocked on the door and a teenaged boy with dark spiked hair, Jake, opened it.
"Yeah?" Jake asked.
Dean flashed his badge. "We're looking for Duane Tanner, he lives here, right?"
"Yeah, he's my brother."
"Can we talk to him?"
"Oh, he's not here right now."
"Do you know where he is?"
"Yeah, he went on a fishing trip up by Roslyn Lake."
"Your parents home?" Sam questioned.
"Yeah, they're inside."
"Jake? Who is it?" Mr. Tanner asked from inside.
Dean, as Mr. Tanner appeared, said, "Hi, U.S. Marshals, sir, we're looking for your son Duane."
"Wh-why? He's not in trouble, is he?"
"No, no, no, no. We just need to ask him a couple of routine questions, that's all."
"When's he due back from his fishing trip?"
"I'm not sure."
"Well, maybe your wife knows," Sam said.
"No, I don't know, she's not here right now."
"Your son said she was," Dean stated.
Jake frowned. "Did I?"
"She's getting groceries," Mr. Tanner informed. "So, when Duane gets back, there's a number where he can get a hold of you?"
"Oh no, we'll just check in with you later."
They turned and walked down the steps as the Tanners shut the door behind them.
Dean glanced at his brother. "That was kind of creepy, right? A little too Stepford?"
"Big time," Sam agreed.
They looked furtively about and they snuck around the back of the house and crouched below a window.
Dean quickly put Kit in her car seat and rejoined his brother.
Inside the Tanner house, Beverly Tanner was tied to a chair and gagged; Jake came around behind her, hands on her shoulders.
"It's okay, Mom. It's not gonna hurt," Jake reassured.
Mr. Tanner came out of the next room with a kitchen knife. Jake stood in front of his mother and casually rolled up one sleeve; his father cut into his arm and let the blood drip onto a wound in Beverly's shoulder.
Outside, Sam and Dean armed themselves and kicked down the back door. As they rushed in, handguns raised, Mr. Tanner rushed at them with a knife and Dean shot him thrice in the chest. Jake jumped out the window, shattering glass, and darted off into the woods. Sam aimed at him through the window, but hesitated, giving him time to get away.
Sam made his way toward Beverly and untied her.
The boys loaded her into the back next to Kit who was buckled in.
As soon as they drove up, Sam helped her out and led her to the door. Dean opened the trunk, and looked around furtively, then got Kit out.
CLINIC
Sam led Beverly inside. The clinic was quiet, dim, and empty.
"Hello?" Sam called. "Hello? We need a doctor here!"
The young woman from the vision, Pam, rushed out, concerned.
"Mrs. Tanner, what happened?" Pam asked.
"She's been attacked," Sam explained.
"Dr. Lee?"
Dr. Lee rushed in. "Bring her in."
"Okay," Sam said.
Pam led Sam and Beverly into a back room and Dr. Lee followed. Dean and Kit entered, and Dean was carrying the canvas-covered body of Mr. Tanner hoisted over his shoulders.
"Is that-" Dr. Lee began.
"Mr. Tanner," Dean confirmed.
"Was he attacked too?"
"Uh... no, actually, he did the attacking and then he got himself shot."
"Shot?"
"Yeah."
"And who are you three?"
"U.S. Marshals," Dean told her. "I'd show you my badge, but uh..."
"Oh. Sorry. Bring him back here."
LAB
Beverly was seated on a stool with her shirt off. Dr. Lee sat across from her, treating the wound on her left shoulder.
"Wait, you said Jake helped him?" Dr. Lee asked. "Your son Jake?"
Beverly nodded. "They beat me. Tied me up."
"I don't believe it," Pam said.
"Pam," Dr. Lee called. "Beverly... do you have any idea why they would act this way? Any history of chemical dependency?"
"No, of course not," Beverly replied. "I don't know why. One minute they were my husband and my son. And the next, they had the devil in them."
Sam, Dean and Kit were listening and the brothers shared a look at her last words.
"We gotta talk," Dean said, ushering his brother and daughter from the lab. "Those guys were whacked out of their grounds."
"What do you think?" Sam asked. "Multiple demons, mass possessions?"
"If it is possession, there could be more. I mean, God knows how many, it could be like a friggin' Shriner convention."
"Great."
"Of course, that's one way to wipe out a town, you take it from the inside."
"I don't know, man. We didn't see any of the demon smoke with Mr. Tanner, or any of the other usual signs."
"Well, whatever. Something turned him into a monster. And you know if you woulda taken out the other one, there'd be less to worry about."
"I'm sorry, all right? I hesitated, Dean, it was a kid!"
"No, it was an "it". Not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sam."
Dr. Lee stalked out of the lab, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.
"How's the patient?" Sam questioned.
"Terrible!" Dr. Lee cried. "What the hell happened out there?"
"We don't know," Dean said.
"Yeah? Well, you just killed my next door neighbor."
"We didn't have a choice."
"Maybe so, but we need the county sheriff. I need the coroner..."
"Phones are down," Sam informed.
"I know, I tried. Tell me you have a police radio in the car?"
"Yeah we do. But it crapped out just like everything else."
"I don't understand what is happening."
"How far is it to the next town?" Dean asked.
"It's about forty miles down to Sidewinder."
"All right, I'm gonna go down there, see if I can find some help." He clipped Sam on the shoulder. "My partner'll stick around, keep you guys safe."
"Safe from what?"
"We'll get back to you on that."
BLACKTOP
Dean pulled up behind a wrecked car with Oregon plates that read WTF 4C7. He stopped to investigate, carrying a gun. The windows on the car were smashed and blood covered the seats. On the ground by the driver's side was a large bloody knife. He picked it up.
CLINIC
Sam was leaning against a counter, staring at the body of Mr. Tanner. He began pacing. Dr. Lee was nearby, looking at something in a microscope. Kit had been given safe medical things to play with.
"Huh," Dr. Lee noted.
"What?" Sam asked.
"His lymphocyte percentage is pretty high. His body was fighting off a viral infection."
"Really? What kind of virus?"
"Can't say for sure."
"Do you think an infection could have made him act like that?"
"None that I've ever heard of. I mean, some can cause dementia, but not that kind of violence. And besides, I've never heard of one that did this to the blood."
"Did what?"
"There's this... weird residue. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was sulfur."
"Sulfur."
BLACKTOP
Dean drove along the bridge, which was blocked by a roadblock consisting of several cars and a half-dozen locals with guns. One was Jake. He stopped the car and frowned. Something banged down on the roof of the car and he jumped; a man leaned over.
"Oh-ho-ho. Hey," Dean greeted.
"Sorry. Road's closed," a man told him.
"Yeah, I can see that. What's up?"
"Quarantine."
"Quarantine? What is it?"
"Don't know. Something going around out there."
"Uh-huh. Who told you that?"
"County Sheriff."
"Is he here?"
"No. He called. Say, why don't you get out of the car and we'll talk a little?"
Dean laughed nervously. "Well, you are a handsome devil, but I don't swing that way, sorry."
"I'd appreciate it if you got out of the car, just for a quick minute."
"Yeah, I'll bet you would."
Dean put the car into a quick reverse. The man grabbed his collar and was dragged along. The men at the roadblock began firing, and Dean swung the car around, shaking the man off and zoomed away.
CLINIC
Sam was staring intently at Beverly, still huddled on the stool in the lab.
"I don't understand," Beverly said. "Are you saying my husband and Jake had a disease?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out," Dr. Lee replied. "Now, during the attack, do you remember... did you have any direct contact with their blood?"
"Oh, my God. You don't think I've got this virus, do you?"
"Beverly, I don't know what to think. But with your permission, we'll take a blood sample."
Beverly nodded and laid her hand gently on Dr. Lee's. Suddenly, she grabbed Dr. Lee's wrist and yelled in rage, lashing out with her other hand. Sam advanced on her and she tossed him against a glass cabinet, which shattered. She picked up a scalpel as he took a fire extinguisher from the wall. She advanced on him, still yelling, and he knocked her out.
TOWN ROAD
Dean was driving back into town. Mark stepped into his path brandishing a rifle, and he stopped the car.
"Hands where I can see 'em!" Mark ordered.
"Okay!" Dean agreed.
"Get out of the car! Out of the car!"
Dean opened the car door and got out slowly. "All right, easy there, big guy."
As he stood, he pulled out a handgun and pointed it at Mark. "All right, put it down!"
"Lower it now!" Mark yelled.
"Put it down!"
"Are you one of 'em?"
"No! Are you?"
"No!"
"You could be lying!"
"So could you!"
"All right! All right. We could do this all day, all right? Let's just, uh, let's take it easy before we kill each other."
Mark relaxed slightly. "What's going on with everybody."
"I don't know."
"My neighbor... Mr. Rogers, he-"
"You've got a neighbor named Mr. Rogers?"
"Not anymore." Dean shook his head. "He came at me with a hatchet. I put him down. He's not the only one, I mean, it's happening to everyone."
"I'm heading over to the doc's place, there's still some people left."
"No, no way. I'm getting the hell out."
"There's no way out, they got the bridge covered, come on."
"I don't believe you."
"Fine, stay here, be my guest."
Mark hesitated, then changed his mind. He pulled out his handgun and grabbed another and kept it pointed towards Dean as he got into the passenger's side. Dean still had his gun up as well.
"Well, this ought to be a relaxing drive," Dean muttered.
CLINIC
Dr. Lee was looking through the microscope again as Pam huddled against the far wall.
"What if we all have it? What if we all go crazy?" Pam asked.
"You've got to stay calm," Dr. Lee told her. "All we can do it wait. The Marshal's bringing help."
"I can't, I... I've got to go."
"Pam!"
"No, you don't understand. My boyfriend's out there, I gotta make sure he's okay." She hurried out of the lab.
Sam followed Pam to the hallway where Keira was. "All right, wait, wait. Please. Look, I know you're upset, all right? But it's safer if you stay here for now. Help is coming." The Impala pulled up outside. "There he is."
"Sammy? Open up!" Dean called.
Sam opened the door to let in Dean and Mark, both of whom were still armed.
"Did you, uh, get to a phone?" Sam asked.
"Road block," Dean answered, turning to Mark. "We're gonna have a word. Doc's inside."
"What's going on out there, Dean?"
"Man, I don't know, I feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man, I mean, Sarge is the only sane person we could find. What are we dealing with, do you know?"
"Yeah. Doc thinks it's a virus."
"Okay, great. What do you think?"
"I think she's right."
"Really?"
"Yeah. And I think the infected are trying to infect others with blood-to-blood contact. Oh, but it gets better. The uh, the virus? Leaves traces of sulfur in the blood."
"A demonic virus?"
"Yeah, more like a demonic germ warfare. At least it explains why I've been having visions."
"It's like a Biblical plague."
"Yeah. You don't know how right you are, Dean. I've been poring through Dad's journal, found something about the Roanoke colony."
"And?"
"Dad always had a theory about Croatoan. He thought it was the demon's name. Sometimes known as a Deva or sometimes Reesha. A demon of plague and pestilence."
"Well, that's just terrific. Why here, why now?"
"I have no idea. But Dean, who knows how far this thing can spread? We gotta get out of here, we gotta warn people."
Mark called, "They've got one! In here!"
Dean entered the next room as he asked, "What do you mean?"
"The wife. She's infected," Sam explained.
"We've gotta take care of this," Mark said. "We can't just leave her in there. My neighbors, they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she'll get."
Dean pulled out his gun with little hesitation and stalked into the lab. Kit was still engrossed in the medical stuff she'd been given.
LAB
"You're gonna kill Beverly Tanner?" Pam asked.
"Doctor, could there be any treatment? Some kind of cure for this?" Sam questioned.
"Can you cure it?" Dean inquired.
"For God's sakes, I don't even know what "it" is!" Dr. Lee cried.
"I told you, it's just a matter of time before she breaks through," Mark warned.
"Just leave her in there, you can't shoot her like an animal!" Pam argued.
"Sam," Dean called.
They went to the utility room where Beverly was being held. Dean and Mark held their guns ready. Sam carefully opened the door. Dean and Mark took up offensive positions. Inside, Beverly was huddled on the floor, knees drawn up. She jumped at their approach.
"Mark, what are you doing?" Beverly asked. "Mark, it's, it's them! They locked me in here, they, they tried to kill me! They're infected, not me! Please, Mark! You've known me all your life! Please!"
Dean glanced at Sam. "You sure she's one of 'em?"
Sam nodded, his face in distress. As Mark pulled back, near tears, Dean stepped forward and fired twice.
Outside the lab, Kit jumped and began crying at the sound of the gunshot.
CLINIC
The shades were drawn and Mark peered through them cautiously. A few people were gathered outside. Behind him, Sam pulled out a hunting knife and checked the blade as Dean loaded a gun. In the lab, Pam dropped a vial of blood and screamed.
"Oh, God!" Pam cried. "Is there any on my? Am I okay?"
"You're clean, you're okay," Dr. Lee reassured.
"Why are we staying here? Please, let's just go!"
"No, we can't, because those things are everywhere," Dean said.
Pam sank down. "Oh God..."
"Hey, shh, shh," Dr. Lee told her.
Sam spoke quietly. "She's right about one thing. We can't stay here. We've gotta get out of here, get to the Roadhouse? Somewhere. Let people know what's coming."
"Yeah, good point," Dean noted. "Night of the Living Dead didn't exactly end pretty."
"Well, I'm not sure we've got a choice," Mark said. "Lots of folks up here are good with rifles -- even with all your hardware we're, we're easy targets. So unless you've got some explosive..."
Sam glanced up at a shelf of medical supplies and got an idea. "We could make some." He went to the shelf and took down a bottle of Potassium Chloride.
Someone frantically pounded on the door and the brothers ran out.
"Hey!" Duane called. "Let me in, let me in! Please!"
"It's Duane Turner!" Mark realized, opening the door to let Duane, who had a backpack and was limping, in.
"Thank God."
"Duane, you okay?"
Dean glanced at Sam. "That's the guy that I, uh-" He clicked his tongue.
"Yeah," Sam confirmed.
"Who else is in here?" Duane asked.
Dean grabbed his arm. "Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, chief. Hey doc! Give Duane a good once-over, would you?"
Dr. Lee led the group into the lab. "Pam?"
Duane glanced to Dean. "Who are you?"
"Never mind who I am," Dean said. "Doc."
"Yeah, okay," Dr. Lee answered.
"Duane. Where have you been?" Mark asked.
"On a fishing trip up by Rosyln," Duane answered. "I came back this afternoon. I... I saw Roger McGill being dragged out of his house by people we know! They started cutting him with knives! I ran, I've been hiding in the woods ever since. Has anybody seen my mom or dad?"
Dean turned to Sam and attempted a joking tone. "Awkward..."
Duane was sitting on a stool and had a deep gash in his left leg.
"You're bleeding," Dr. Lee realized.
"Where'd you get that?" Sam asked as Kit pointed to the wound. She went to press the stethoscope to his wound and Sam pulled her hand back.
"I was running, I must have tripped," Duane replied.
"Tie him up, there's rope in there," Dean ordered.
"Wait..."
Dean pulled his gun on Duane. "Sit down!"
"I'm sorry, Duane, he's right," Mark said. "We've gotta be careful."
"Careful?" Duane repeated. "About what?"
"Did they bleed on you?" Sam questioned.
"No, what the hell? No!"
"Doc? Any way to know for sure, any test?"
"I've studied Beverly's bloodworm backwards and forwards," Dr. Lee replied.
"My mom!" Duane cried.
"It took three hours for the virus to incubate. The sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so... no, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane turns."
"Dean, I gotta talk to you now," Sam said.
Dean glanced at Mark, who nodded. Dean and Sam left the lab. Kit followed after them.
"Sit in that chair," Mark demanded.
In another room, Sam glanced at his brother. "This is my vision, Dean. It's happening."
"Yeah, I figured," Dean noted.
"You can't kill him, all right? Not yet. We don't know if he's infected or not."
"Well, I think we're pretty damn sure. Guy shows up out of nowhere, he's got a cut on his leg, his whole family's infected?"
He took a quick moment to think. "All right, then we should keep him covered, and we should wait and see."
"For what? For him to Hulk out and infect somebody else? No thanks, can't take that chance." He started pushing past Sam, who stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Hey look, man, I'm not happy about this, okay? But it's a tough job and you know that."
"It's supposed to be tough, Dean. We're supposed to struggle with this, that's the whole point."
"What does that buy us?"
"A clear conscience, for one!"
"Well, it's too late for that."
"What the hell's happened to you?"
Dean frowned at him. "What?"
Sam glared. "You might kill an innocent man, and you don't even care! You don't act like yourself anymore, Dean. Hell, you know what? You're acting like one of those things out there."
"Mm-hmm."
Dean pushed past Sam a third time. Sam tried to stop him again, but Dean hurled Sam against the far wall. He went back into the hall and locked the door behind him.
"Hey!" Sam yelled.
Sam rattled the lock. "Open the damn door, Dean! Don't do it, Dean! Don't!"
Kit pounded on the door with her tiny hand.
Dean was in the hallway from Sam's vision. He dropped the clip from the gun and tapped it against the butt, then replaced it. He opened the door to the lab and shut it behind him. Duane was tied to the chair and Mark, Pam and Dr. Lee stood nearby.
"No, you're not gonna... No, no, I swear it's not me!" Duane cried.
"Oh, God," Pam said. "We're all gonna die."
"Maybe he's telling the truth," Mark suggested.
"No, he's not him, not anymore," Dean told them.
"Stop it!" Duane yelled. "Ask her, ask the doctor! It's not in me!"
"I... I can't tell," Dr. Lee admitted.
Duane began sobbing. "Please, don't. Don't, please. I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me, I swear, I, I swear it's not in me. No, don't."
"I got no choice," Dean said.
Dean pointed the gun at Duane with his finger hovering over the trigger. Duane was sobbing and the others were watching in tense silence.
Dean trembled, hesitated, and lowered the gun with a grimace. "Damn it!" Duane panted as Dean left the room.
Later, Sam and Dean were preparing explosives with rags and glass bottles. Keira was sitting nearby, being watched.
Dr. Lee entered, hands in her pockets. "It's been over four hours. Duane's blood is still clean. I don't think he's infected. I'd like to untie him, if that's all right."
The brothers shared a look. Sam nodded and Dean lowered his head.
"Sure. Yeah," Sam replied as Dr. Lee left. "You know I'm gonna ask you why."
"Yeah, I know," Dean answered.
"So why? Why didn't you do it?"
Dean didn't reply and instead, said, "We need more alcohol."
Sam got up and went into the dispensary to find Pam already there. "How you holding up, Pam?"
"Good," Pam replied. "It'll all be over soon." She shut the door and locked it and Sam, with his back turned, didn't notice. "In fact, I've been waiting for this the whole time."
"For what?"
"To get you alone."
She lashed out and knocked him to the ground. She straddled his chest and hilted him, hard across the face. Outside the room, Dean, Kit and Mark heard the commotion and the adults armed themselves. Pam had a scalpel in one hand, which she sliced across Sam's chest and then across her own palm, placing her wound over his. Dean kicked the door open and shot her three times in the back. She convulsed and fell to the floor. Sam reached out his hands to Dean, who started to lean over to take it and Mark pulled him back.
"She bled on him," Mark said. "He's got the virus."
Sam pulled his hands back, realizing it was true. Dean looked stunned, looking from Sam to Pam. He picked up his daughter before she could reach her uncle.
LAB
Sam was sitting on the stool, a bandage pressed to his chest. His eyes were down and he looked close to tears. The others surrounded him. Dean paced angrily, holding Kit.
"Doc, check his wound again, would you?" Dean asked, earning a pause. "Doctor!"
"What's she need to examine him for?" Mark questioned. "You saw what happened."
"Did her blood actually enter your wound?" Dr. Lee inquired.
"Come on, of course it did!"
"We don't know that for sure," Dean argued.
Duane glanced at him. "We can't take a chance."
"You know what we have to do," Mark said.
"Nobody is shooting my brother, my daughter's uncle," Dean argued.
"He isn't gonna be your brother, or her uncle, much longer," Duane warned. "You said it yourself."
"Nobody is shooting anyone!"
"You were gonna shoot me!"
"You don't shut your pie-hole, I still might!"
"Dean, they're right," Sam told them. "I'm infected; just give me the gun and I'll do it myself."
"Forget it."
"Dean, I'm not gonna become one of those things."
"Sam, we've still got some time-"
Mark cut him off. "Time for what? Look, I understand he's your brother and uncle, and I'm sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of this." Mark pulled out his handgun.
Dean eyed him angrily. "I'm gonna say this one more time -- you make a move on him, you'll be dead before you hit the ground. You understand me? I mean, do I make myself clear?!"
"Then what are we supposed to do?!"
Dean tossed Mark the keys. "Get the hell out of here, that's what. Take my car. You've got the explosives, there's an arsenal in there. You two go with him. You've got enough firepower to handle anything now."
"What about you and Kit?"
Sam noticed his brother's face and after a beat, said, "Dean, no. No. Go with them. This is your only chance!"
"You're not gonna get rid of me that easy," Dean joked.
Mark glanced between the three. "No, he's right. Come with us." He paused. "Okay, it's your funerals." He led Duane and Dr. Lee out the door.
"I'm sorry," Dr. Lee apologized. "Thanks for everything, Marshals."
"Oh, actually, we're not really Marshals," Dean told her.
"Um. Oh."
She left and Dean shut the door behind her. He turned slowly to face Sam, who started to cry. Kit was set down and hugged her uncle who didn't try to pull away.
"Wish we had a deck of cards, or a foosball table or something," Dean said.
"Dean, don't do this. Just take your daughter and get the hell out of here."
"No way."
"Give me my gun, and leave."
"For the last time, Sam. No."
Sam slammed the table. "This is the dumbest thing you have ever done."
"Oh, I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?" He shuddered.
"Dean, I'm sick. It's over for me. It doesn't have to be for you."
"No?"
"No, you and Kit keep going."
"Who says I want to?"
Sam looked at him. "What?"
Dean crossed to the other wall and pulled a handgun from his waistband before sitting on the cabinet. "I'm tired, Sam. I'm tired of this job, this life... this weight on my shoulders, man. I'm tired of it."
"So what, so you're just gonna give up? You're just gonna lay down and die? Look, Dean, I know this stuff with Dad has-"
"You're wrong. It's not about Dad. I mean, part of it is, sure, but..."
"What is it about?"
They heard a noise outside and a moment later, there was a knocking on the door. Dean picked up both handguns and crossed to the door. Dr. Lee was there. Dean opened the door.
"You'd better come see this," Dr. Lee said.
CLINIC
All six survivors were standing just outside the clinic; everything else in sight was deathly silent.
"There's no one," Dr. Lee told them. "Not anywhere. They've all just... vanished."
The next morning, Dr. Lee was looking through the microscope. Sam was seated on the exam table.
"Well, it's been five hours and your blood's still clean," Dr. Lee informed. "I don't understand it, but I think you dodged a bullet."
Sam frowned. "But I was exposed. How could I not be infected?"
"I don't know. But you're just not. I mean, you compare it with the Tanner samples..." She looked through another microscope. "What the hell?"
"What?"
"Their blood. There's no trace of the virus. No sulfur, nothing."
They left the clinic and stood outside.
Mark and Duane were loading up a truck. Dr. Lee stood in the doorway of the clinic.
"Hey, the Sarge and I are getting the hell out of here, heading south," Duane said. "You should come."
"I'd better get over to Sidewinder, get the authorities up here," Dr. Lee replied. "If they'll believe me. Take care."
Mark waved to her and to Dean, Sam and Kit, the former two of whom were leaning against the Impala.
"What about him?" Dean asked.
"He's going to be fine. No signs of infection."
Dr. Lee went back inside as Mark and Duane pulled away in the truck.
Dean turned to Sam who said, "Hey, man, don't look at me. I got no clue."
"I swear, I'm gonna lose sleep over this one," Dean told him. "I mean, why here, why now? And where the hell did everybody go? It's like they just friggin' melted."
"Why was I immune?"
"Yeah. You know what? That's a good question. You know, I'm already starting to feel like this is the one that got away?"
Kit was put in the car and buckled in.
They got in the car and pulled away from town.
BLACKTOP
Mark drove his pickup down a dark tow-lane road.
Duane, who was in the passenger's seat, asked, "You mind pulling up ahead there?"
"All right," Mark said as he pulled onto the shoulder and stopped the truck.
"I gotta make a call."
"No phone out here."
"I got it covered." He pulled out a small knife.
"What the hell is that?"
In a quick motion, Duane lashed out and slit Mark's thread. He caught the blood in a metal bowl, sat back, and dipped his hand in the blood, swirling it around.
"It's over, you'll be pleased," Duane said. "I don't think anymore tests are necessary." He paused. "The Winchester boy, definitely immune, as expected." He paused again. "Yes, of course. Nothing left behind." His eyes went demonic black.
BRIDGE
The Impala was parked by the side of a road, overlooking a river. Dean and Sam leaned against a fence, drinking beer. Kit was asleep in the back, as it had been a long night and she hadn't gotten much sleep.
"So," Sam began. "Last night. You want to tell me what the hell you were talking about?"
"What do you mean?" Dean asked.
"What do I mean? I mean you said you were tired of the job. And that it wasn't just because of Dad."
"Forget it."
"No, I can't. No way."
Dean glanced at him. "Come on, man, I thought we were each going to die, you can't hold that over me."
"No, no, no, no. You can't pull that crap with me, man. You're talking."
"And what if I don't? What if she doesn't?"
"I don't know, man. I just think maybe we ought to... go to the Grand Canyon."
Sam frowned. "What?"
Dean flicked his eyes at him. "Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across country, you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon? We we could go to T.J. or Hollywood, see if we can bang Lindsay Lohan."
"You're not making any sense."
"I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live a little bit?"
"Why are you saying all this?" Dean shook his head, turning away. "No, no, no, no, Dean. You're my brother, all right? So whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit."
"I can't. I promised."
"Who?"
"Dad."
"What are you talking about?"
Dean looked down. "Right before Dad died, he told me something." He took a breath and looked at Sam. "He told me something about you."
"What? Dean, what did he tell you?"