Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Hello, SPN Family! I am new to this wonderful community (late-comer, I know) and after wracking my brain for a sick!fic idea that was at least somewhat original, I found one. It's set somewhere in season one, after 1x18, "Something Wicked". I hope you enjoy the first chapter!
The small diner was filled with regular breakfast sounds: people chatting over their coffee, silverware scraping against plates, the hiss of the grill behind the swinging kitchen door as the waitress hurried back and forth serving up hot plates of food.
Dean was currently on his third helping of pancakes. Sam's plate was opposite, knife and fork neatly straightened along the edge to indicate he was finished.
"Anything good, Sammy?" Dean asked, his mouth half full as he poured a generous amount of syrup over his plate.
"Maybe," Sam said, his eyes quickly scanning the rest of the article in the newspaper. He folded it down so he could see his brother.
"Saxonburg, Pennsylvania."
Dean craned his neck to see the headline: Mysterious Spanish Flu Epidemic Claims Five Lives in Last Week.
"Why's that suspicious?" he asked.
"Spanish Flu existed nearly one hundred years ago, for starters," Sam said. "In 1918, it infected nearly a third of the world's population."
Dean shrugged.
"Maybe it came back," he said. "Or maybe it's not Spanish Flu. You keep mentioning that we're entering the era of superbugs that can't be treated with antibiotics."
"Maybe," Sam agreed, though his tone implied he didn't think he was wrong.
"Okay, what else?" Dean asked.
"The article says that five children have died from it."
"So? I've always said children are walking germ factories."
"No, it's more than that," Sam insisted. "All children, all perfectly healthy, and all dead within seventy-two hours."
"So what do you think it could be? Another Shtriga?"
"I don't know," admitted Sam. "But I think it's too unusual to be happening naturally."
Dean sighed and scanned the article again.
"Are you sure there's nothing else out there?"
"I'm sure. Come on, we've driven farther on less information."
He looked at his brother with innocent eyes. Dean hated those eyes; sure, he had grown up with them and was more or less immune to their effect but not totally.
"Fine," he finally agreed.
"Miss Clark," Sam smiled warmly at the young journalist. "My name is George Cummings, this is my friend Bill Francis."
Dean smiled charmingly.
"I understand you researched and wrote the article about the developing flu epidemic?"
"I'm not sure five is an epidemic," the journalist admitted. "But yes, I did. Can I help you with something?"
"We're students at Pitt," Sam continued. "And we're working on a paper on the politics of epidemics. We had a few questions we were hoping you could answer."
"I'm happy to try," she said, motioning to the chairs in her small office. "And please, call me Julia."
"Well, Julia," Dean said, taking a seat. "What can you tell us about the deaths?"
"Not much apart from what was in the article. Eight children have died with what the doctors say is Spanish Flu."
"Eight?" Sam shuffled through papers in a folder and looked back at her. "The article reports five. Three more children have died?"
Julia nodded.
"Yes, a brother and sister yesterday and a boy this morning. One of my contacts at the local police station called me so I could include them in the total tally but the article had already gone to print."
"Do you have their names?"
Julia lifted a few different stacks of paper on her desk until she found the pink post-it note.
"Clinton and Julie Burgess," she read. "Aged six and three. And Jonathan Moore, aged twelve."
"Terrible," Sam said under his breath and Julia nodded.
"What do you know about these people?" Dean asked. "Are you from Saxonville?"
"Saxonburg," Julia correctly in a disapproving tone. "And no, I'm not from there but I have friends there. It's a small town, barely over fifteen hundred people. I don't know much about the victims except what my contact with the police said and the obituaries that have already come out."
"Why are the police involved?" Sam asked. "Is that normal?"
"I suppose you've read about the procedures that are in place for an epidemic," Julia said.
"Yes."
"No."
Dean and Sam's voices overlapped and Julia raised an eyebrow.
"I would have thought that would be one of your first sources for your paper."
"It was," Dean corrected himself hastily. "Of course it was. We've read the general policy, I thought you meant the policy specifically in Saxonburg."
Julia held his glance for a minute before looking at Sam.
"If you've read the policy, you know that law enforcement is kept up to date on any potential threats to the community and that includes disease. The town is so small, though, that everyone knew about these kids getting sick even before the police showed up at their homes."
"At their homes?" Dean repeated and Julia nodded.
"All but one died at home," answered Julia. "Which meant the police had to be in attendance."
"Do you mind giving us the name of your contact in Saxonburg?" Sam asked. "It would really help us if we could speak to someone from the area about what's going on and what the police and medical authorities are doing to address it."
He smiled sincerely, his eyes wide, and Dean saw Julia duck her head as she smiled back.
"I don't normally give up my contacts," she said. "But I think I can make an exception for you."
Dean rolled his eyes as she scribbled the name on another pink post-it note.
"Thank you," Sam said, standing. "And thanks for your time."
Dean and Julia stood with him.
"I don't think I was much help," said Julia. "But I'm happy to answer any other questions if they come up."
She picked up a business card from the holder on her desk and held it out to Sam.
"Call me if there's anything else."
Sam took the card and nodded, the same innocent smile on his face.
"Will do. Thanks again."
Dean followed Sam out of the office building and onto the sidewalk.
"Dude, she was into you."
Sam rolled his eyes.
"She was just being helpful. She wanted us to get a good grade."
"She wanted to give you a good grade."
"Let it go, Dean."
"I'm just saying,"
"Drop it."
Dean sighed.
"Those puppy dog eyes are wasted on you, they really are."
The drive to Saxonburg didn't take more than forty-five minutes and as they drove down what the street sign told them was Main Street West, Dean raised his eyebrows.
"Can't imagine living in a place like this," he muttered. "Everybody knows everybody and there's an American flag on every corner."
They pulled into the parking lot of Saxonburg Police Station.
"How do you want to do this?" Dean asked.
"May I help you?" the officer behind the window asked Sam and Dean, who were now sporting jackets and ties.
"We're looking for a Sergeant O'Connor," Dean said.
"May I ask what this is about?"
"We're with the Center for Disease Control." They both flashed faked badges. "We have some questions about the flu outbreak."
"One moment and I'll see if she's available to see you."
The officer picked up the phone, spoke into it briefly, and then set the receiver down.
"She'll be right out."
"Thanks."
Sam and Dean stepped away from the desk and sat in the plastic chairs lined against the wall. A moment later a fierce-looking woman with her hair slicked back into a tight bun appeared.
"May I help you?" she asked and Dean smiled warmly.
"We're here to ask about the mysterious flu epidemic," he said.
"Strange business," Sergeant O'Connor sighed, leading them back to her office. Sam and Dean sat down opposite the desk and Sam pulled out a little notepad. "What do you want to know?"
"Do you have any idea where this sickness came from?"
"Doc Shepherd doesn't have much in the way of ideas on where or how it started," the sergeant said. "But he is certain that it's Spanish Flu."
"What makes him so certain?"
"He said he ran tests," the sergeant shrugged. "I'm not a medical woman, I trust his word."
"What about the victims?"
"All local," answered the sergeant. "Oldest one was twelve, the youngest one was six months old."
"Has there been any strange activity lately?" Dean asked.
"Strange how?"
"You know," Dean continued. "Strange noises, people seeing things, reported break-ins."
"What are you suggesting? That this was done on purpose and these children were poisoned?"
Dean shrugged.
"No," the sergeant said firmly. "Nothing like that. We're a small town that gets along fine. Nothing strange or out of sorts."
Sam could tell that they were beginning to wear down the sergeant's patience.
"Can you walk us through the timeline?"
The sergeant shot Dean one more stern look before glancing at Sam and sighing.
"It started about five days ago with Ian Pike. Got a call from his mother saying he had died during the night."
"Did you go to the scene?"
"I did," the sergeant nodded. "The poor boy was blue and had blood coming from his mouth and nose." She looked out the window for a long moment. "I've seen a lot of things in my time," she continued. "But that one will haunt me for as long as I live. His brother died two days later in the hospital."
Sam frowned.
"From what?"
"Spanish Flu," the sergeant answered. "His mother said Nicholas caught it from his brother and by the time Doc Shepherd got to him, he was past hope."
"Who was next?"
The sergeant frowned.
"Surely the doctor would be the better person to speak with about all of this," she said.
"We need to collect information from both the medical personnel but also those who responded to the calls," Sam explained. "The two perspectives offer the most comprehensive timeline."
Sergeant O'Connor nodded and sighed.
"The day after Ian Pike we got another call from Patrick Fitzgerald. His little girl Ellie had died in her sleep."
"I'm sensing a pattern," Dean commented and the sergeant nodded.
"All of them had the same story. The same day as Ellie was Lori Harmon and the next day it was Erin Robbins. That one broke my heart."
"Why?"
"Erin was six months old," the sergeant replied. "Her parents had been trying to have a baby for years and everyone thought Erin was a miracle but her mother had a rough go of things. She was being treated for post-partum depression."
"Was there anyone else?"
The sergeant nodded.
"Clinton Burgess was found dead in his bed yesterday morning and his sister Julie died in hospital last night. Jonathan Moore died this morning."
"Are there any steps that you're issuing to the public?"
"Just that we're aware of the situation and to employ good hygiene practices. You know, stay home if you don't feel well, wash your hands, that sort of thing."
Sam nodded and glanced at Dean. His brother had no other questions and stood up.
"Thank you for your time, Sergeant," he said. "And keep your head up. We'll figure this out. Do you know where we'd find Doctor Shepherd this time of day?"
"Try the clinic down Pittsburgh Street. If he's not there, he'll be at Butler Hospital."
The sergeant escorted them out of the police station.
"What do you think?" Sam asked and Dean sighed, pacing alongside the Impala.
"I don't know, Sam. It's terrible and sudden but it doesn't exactly scream paranormal."
"I think we should talk to the doctor."
Dean looked at his brother.
"What makes you so sure there's something here?"
Sam shrugged.
"I'm not sure," he answered. "But I just have a feeling. Come on, we're already here. The health clinic is only a few blocks away."
Dean relented and twenty minutes later they were asking the doctor, a dark-skinned older man with a kind face, the same questions. He confirmed everything the sergeant had said about the timeline.
"Sergeant O'Connor said you ran tests to ensure this was Spanish Influenza," Sam said and the doctor nodded.
"I did," he confirmed. "Spanish Influenza was thought to be a strain of H1N1," he continued. "That's what the children all tested positive for."
"Why call it Spanish Flu?" Sam asked. "Why not H1N1?"
"Because of the degree of symptoms," Doctor Shepherd answered. "The 1918 influenza was a particularly violent strain of H1N1. So is this one. The symptoms and patterns are almost identical to what was described in 1918."
"We'll need copies of your tests," Dean said in his most authoritative voice.
"Of course," the doctors said.
"We'll also need to see the bodies if possible," Sam added.
"Doctor," Doctor Shepherd said to Sam. His face and tone were serious. "I am happy to cooperate and show you the bodies but I assure you, the tests and the physical appearances all indicate this was Spanish Influenza."
"We don't doubt you," Sam said. "But we're looking for anything out of the ordinary that may suggest why here and why now."
Doctor Shepherd leaned back in his chair.
"I suppose a few extra sets of eyes can't hurt," he admitted. "I can show you Clinton and Julie Burgess and Jonathan Moore but all the others are already at the funeral home."
"You didn't perform autopsies?"
"I did," the doctor replied. "But these poor families want to put their children to rest and it didn't take long to confirm what I had suspected."
"What did you find?"
"Just what you'd expect," Doctor Shepherd answered. "Lungs full of putrid fluid."
Dean wrinkled his nose – that sounded less than appealing – and glanced at the clock.
"Is it too much trouble to ask to see the bodies now?" he said. "I know it's getting late and I'm sure you have a family to get back to but we would really appreciate it."
"Of course," Doctor Shepherd stood up. "They're in the morgue at Butler Hospital."
Sam had never liked morgues. It wasn't that dead bodies freaked him out but he hated disturbing corpses, especially innocent young children.
"As you can see," Doctor Shepherd said as they glanced over the three bodies, all of them grey and still. "They were bleeding from the nose, mouth, and ears."
Sam peered down at Clinton and saw the blood trail from his left ear.
"And you found fluid in their lungs, I assume?"
"Liters of it," the doctor answered. "Poor souls, they drowned in their own sputum."
Dean shuddered; what a horrible way to die.
"What about the bruising?" Sam asked. "Has this been consistent?"
All three children had large bruises on their shoulders and smaller ones on their faces.
"It's not unexpected," the doctor answered. "As I'm sure you know, the blood underneath the skin coagulates as the body dehydrates and bruises can form even after death."
"Of course." Sam said. "We've taken up enough of your time, Doctor Shepherd. Thank you for your cooperation."
"Of course," Doctor Shepherd said. "I'm surprised the CDC appeared so quickly but it's reassuring to know that some of the nation's best are looking into this. It will ease the worry of the entire town."
"We'll do our best," Dean promised.
Ten points to whoever can find the hidden music reference! Also, fun fact, Saxonburg is a real place, as are all the locations mention above. All the people are made up though.
Your thoughts and comments are very appreciated – it's my first Supernatural fic so it was a little hard to get the cadence right and it continues to be a work in progress. I'll update as soon as I can! Thanks!