Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Supernatural. Nor do I affiliate my story with the show's ingenious crew. This story is my own creation, based on the events of the show.

A/N: This is set between 5x4 'The End' and 5x5 'Fallen Idols'. It also references the events during 5x2 'Good God, Y'all'.

A/N 2: Slightly AU, because Bobby didn't get paralyzed from the stabbing in the season 5 premiere.

Chapter 1: The Plan

When War came to him, Pestilence could immediately tell his sibling was in bad shape. He caught his collapsing brother in his arms, catching sight of the severed fingers.

"Who did this to you, brother?" he asked, helping War into a chair.

"Winchesters." his brother replied, slowly becoming pale and tired. Famine and Death appeared in Pestilence's office, as they too sensed the demise of War.

"It was the Winchesters." he informed as Death knelt before War. With a single touch, Death cauterized the severed fingers, but they all knew what would happen to their fallen brother. The longer the ring was away, the further War would progress into a catatonic state.

"I'm going to rip those two apart!" Pestilence roared, angrily pacing his office.

"In time, brother. These Winchesters are clearly more dangerous than any of us anticipated." Famine warned.

"What do you propose we do then?" Pestilence spat.

"Calm yourself, brother. I have a plan." Death said, grabbing a bowl and a knife. The brothers quickly caught on to the idea and retrieved various herbs and other necessities.

"Won't this anger Lucifer?" War asked tiredly.

"Screw the Devil! He wants the Winchesters so bad, he can glue them back together when we're done!" Pestilence answered harshly as he prepared the altar.

"He's right. Lucifer may have bound us to him, but he can't control our every move." Famine chimed in, grinding the herbs.

Death vanished as he went to gather more ingredients. When Famine finished mixing the spices with the herbs, the eldest of the Horsemen returned with four bodies.

"Zombie?" Famine asked, sniffing the air.

"Along with a werewolf, vampire, and croatoan." Death added. Pestilence held a bowl under each creature as Death slashed the corpses' throats, trying to get an equal ratio of the different bloods into the bowl. Famine gladly consumed the corpses as Death mixed the blood into the herb mixture.

"And now for the final ingredient." Death spoke, slicing his hand open with the knife. A couple drops of his blood fell into the bowl before the wound healed itself. Pestilence and Famine quickly added their blood to the mix, but on War's turn, it took nearly thirty seconds for the wound to completely heal, deeply worrying his brothers.

After one final mixing, Pestilence teleported away, returning moments later with a cowering teenage boy. The kid's brown eyes shone with fear as he trembled, looking from one Horseman to the other.

"Where am I?" the boy asked, backing away nervously.

"That's not important, Jason." Death answered, grabbing the boy's arm.

"Ow! Let me go!" Jason yelled, trying to wriggle free.

"This might hurt. A lot." Death said, tilting Jason's head up. Pestilence poured the bowl's contents down the gagging boy's throat, enjoying the struggles. Jason was released from Death's hold and he collapsed, twitching. The boy's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he started frothing at the mouth, shaking violently.

The four Horsemen watched intently as the boy stilled, then bolted upright, snarling as his eyes turned red.

"Damn. I was betting on werewolf." War said, chuckling lightly, and then coughing.

"Where did you get this boy?" Death asked as Jason jumped to his feet.

"Phoenix." Pestilence replied casually as Jason ran towards them.

"Send him back." Death ordered.

Pestilence snapped his fingers and Jason vanished.

"Now we wait. The virus will spread so fast, the Winchesters will be there by breakfast." Death stated.

One hour later…

"Sam! Bobby! Lunch is here!" Dean yelled, closing the door behind him.

"Please tell me you didn't get Biggerson's. Again." Sam said, entering the kitchen.

Dean glanced at the bag and quickly turned it around so Sam couldn't see the logo. "What? No! Why would I…" Dean stopped as Sam gave him 'the look'. The one that seemed to say "I can see right through your little white lies, Mister."

"I got you something different this time, I swear!" the elder Winchester declared as Bobby came into his kitchen.

"You boys need to stop with all that greasy garbage. That stuff'll kill you." Bobby said, peeking into the bag.

"Relax, grandpa. I got you the Garden-Veggie-Healthy-Crap Salad. You'll pee green." Dean remarked, pulling out the container full of lettuce and handing it to Bobby.

"Just because I'm old don't mean I can't kick your ass, boy." Bobby said, dropping the Styrofoam container onto the table.

"I'll keep that in mind." Dean said, giving Sam his meal.

"What the hell is this, Dean?" Sam asked, opening the container warily.

"Relax. It's not road kill. It's some, uh, Chicken Ranch Wrap." Dean said before taking a bite of his Bacon Cheeseburger. Sam inspected the contents of the wrap before sampling it, seeming to agree with the taste as he took another bite.

After their meal, Bobby left to search the news for a new case.

"How's he doing?" Dean asked upon returning from tossing the Biggerson's bag.

"Surprisingly good considering he got stabbed barely two weeks ago. He's lucky he only got away with a slight limp." Sam said.

"Damn lucky." Dean added.

"Boys? You might want to see this!" Bobby called. The brothers entered Bobby's study/parlor, eyes moving to the TV.

"The CDC has been called in to Phoenix, Arizona after several residents came down with a mysterious virus. Local authorities strongly urge residents to stay, and tourists to stay away. We have no word on the cause of the outbreak…"

"Looks like we got a gig." Dean said, arms crossed.

"Yeah, and take a look at this." Bobby said, handing Sam his laptop.

"Okay, uh, apparently Jason Bertemme, 17, was admitted to St. Joseph's Hospital. Symptoms included violent outbursts, petechial hemorrhaging of the eyes, confusion, inability to speak…Oh, crap. Is this the croatoan virus?" Sam asked.

"Sure looks like it." Bobby answered, standing up.

"Well, let's go, ladies. We leave now, we should be able to get there for breakfast." Dean said, shouldering his every-ready duffel bag.