AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I hate doing these, but this had to be done. Depending on how far you are into the Supernatural series, you may not understand a part of this. Just replace the name 'Garth' with 'Bobby Singer.' Now, back to your regularly scheduled program.

CHAPTAH 7

SAM & DEAN

"Where the hell is my phone?" asked Dean, patting his pockets.

Sam glanced sideway at him as he sat at the coffee table in their hotel room and searched for lore about whatever they were dealing with. "I dunno. Where did you leave it?"

Dean started searching through his suitcase. "Haha," he snarled. "If I knew where I left it, I wouldn't be looking for it!"

"Chill," Sam replied. "Why are you freaking out anyway? Just get a new one."

"Great. And I suppose we can just buy new copies of the kids' info, too?"

Sam turned to Dean. "We already looked through them. There's nothing there, remember? No connection whatsoever. Obviously this thing just chose the victims randomly."

"Oh, and they were all just COINCIDENTALLY from the orphanage?"

"Look, Dean, I'm trying to find something about our monster. You should, too, instead of worrying about some phone."

"Hey," Dean interjected. "Do you think that kid stole it from me? The black one?"

Sam turned away from his computer again. "You mean the one that rammed into you? Yeah, maybe. I mean, Dean, these kids are orphans. They're probably desperate for money. And, like I said, those files weren't any help anyway." Sam turned back around and typed something into the search engine. "Ugh. I can't find anything about this."

"Well it's not like we've got a lot to go on, Sam. Something that only eats organs. That's specific." Dean rolled his eyes. "Call Garth."

"Already did that," Sam replied immediately. "He couldn't find anything, either. He said he's gonna keep looking, though."

"What would you say it was if you HAD to guess, though?"

Sam ran a hand through his long hair. "I honestly don't know Dean. I mean, a few years ago we opened the gates of Hell. Who knows what kind of things we let out into the world."

"So you think it's a demon?"

"Maybe. Or it could be something we don't know about yet. I mean, we didn't know there was such thing as a rougarou until a few months ago. Who's to say that there isn't a gene that causes people to eat organs?"

"Wait," Dean said. "How do we know that this thing is EATING the organs? What if it's using them as... as a sacrifice or something?"

"I thought about that. But then I did some more research, and according to the police reports, bits of the organs were actually left at the scene. Enough was left for the mortician to discern bite marks."

"So... we're dealing with an honest-to-God cannibal here. Great." Suddenly a phone rang underneath the piles of clothes Dean had left on the floor when he'd been searching for his phone. The brothers looked at each other as the phone trilled.

"Is that yours?" Dean asked.

Sam held his up. "No. It must be Dad's."

Dean dug under the pile of shirts and pulled out a flip phone. "Hello?" he answered as he pulled it open.

Sam raised his eyebrow as he heard the muffled sound of someone talking through the phone. Dean furrowed his brow. "Who is this?" He paused, then angrily shut the phone. "Dammit!"

"Who was that?" Sam asked.

"I dunno! They asked for Dad- and not a fake name either. They asked for 'John Winchester'. When I asked who it was, they canceled the call."

"What was the number?" Sam asked. Dean flipped the phone back open and hit a button on the keypad, revealing a list of recent calls. The only one that was made within the last year was the one Dean had just took. As he read the number his eyes widened.

"What was the number?" Sam repeated.

"It was from my phone," Dean replied. Suddenly he threw their dad's phone on the ground. "I KNEW that voice sounded familiar! It was the kid who ran into me! Those freaking orphans stole my phone!"

"Calm dow-"

"No! I'm going over there right now," Dean interrupted.

Sam stopped him. "Dean! Wait. You can't go right now."

"And why the hell not?"

"If you go storming in without a badge, our cover will be blown. Just wait until tomorrow, and then report it to Martha."

"Fine," Dean pouted, crossing his arms. "But if I see either of those kids again, so help me..."

"Relax," Sam said, moving back to his computer. "And go to sleep."

"No," Dean replied, moving to the door. "I'm going to go get a new phone."

"Feel free," Sam told him as he slammed the door. He turned back to the computer and hit a link. It opened up to a black home page with flames and skulls lining the sides. "Ugh, not another occult site," Sam moaned, moving his mouse up to the "BACK" button. Just then something caught his eye. "What the..."

The page opened up to another black and fiery screen, but on it were pictures resembling the bodies of the murdered children; cut down the middle and apparently without organs. Sam furrowed his brow as he read.

By the time Dean got back Sam had scrolled through the whole page and copied it down onto a sheet of paper.

"Watcha looking at?" Dean asked, pulling a seat up next to his brother.

"I just found what we're looking for," Sam said, turning the laptop to Dean. He had pulled up Google Images, and it was stuck on a painting of a pack of sharp-teethed, clawed people feasting on the organs of what appeared to be a mummy.

"What' s that?" asked Dean, squinting.

"This is an Egyptian painting. You know how Egyptians used their paintings and carvings to tell stories, sort of like sophisticated cavemen?"

"Yeah," Dean said, nodding even though he remembered nothing from his 6th grade social studies class.

"Well, these paintings were found in burrows underneath several pyramids."

"Burrows?"

"Well, I use that term loosely. They were kind of like underground caves, just sitting under the pyramids. Archaeologists dismissed them as some sort of strange embalming area- you know, dark and cool so the body wouldn't spoil. But I did some further research, and I found out these kinds of paintings lined the walls. I looked up some theories about what they meant, and I discovered about the gladan virus. It originated in Egypt, obviously, but soon spread to the rest of Africa. Once the slave trade began the virus was shipped through the world."

"So that means we're looking for an African-American?"

"Not necessarily. This virus is actually very adaptable. Once the Africans brought it to the rest of the continents, the disease started infesting people."

"If this thing was so wide-spread, wouldn't we have heard about it?"

"That's the thing. Like the rougarou gene, you can resist the urge to gobble down people's organs. The difference is that, in the gladan virus, it's MUCH easier to resist. It's just like a craving, coming and going a couple times every month. And so many people have been able to resist it, the virus kind of went extinct for a while. During the Civil War it resurfaced because of the constant bloodshed, but then went into dormancy again. So it looks like whoever we're hunting is weak-willed."

"How did it start, though?"

"The ancient Egyptians buried their pharaohs in pyramids to honor them, and to aid in their journey to the afterlife. The organs were removed before the body was mummified and stuck in special preservation jars, which were buried with their king or queen. Evidently there was a separate kind of cult, one that believed eating the organs of royal humans would give them the power of gods. They never got any sort of power, but they sure got something else. When the royal family got wind that the organ pots were disappearing, they got a priest to put a curse on the organs of the next pharaoh that was buried. When the clan snuck in and devoured the insides- they got a surprise. Suddenly they were always craving organs, until one day one of them attacked someone in broad daylight. Needless to say, the group was caught and killed. Well, most of them. Several managed to escape and have kids, passing down the gene."

"Then it infested the rest of Africa, then the Americas, blah blah blah... and now we're dealing with our Glada.

"It's not called a Glada."

"What's it called, then?"

"Nothing. They don't have names, because of how rare they are. No one even remembers these things."

"So, technically we just discovered them.."

"No, actually-"

"So we get to name them. And we are calling them Gladas."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Anyway, every Glada has a specific type of person it feeds on. The ancient Gladas fed on pharaohs. Later, the North American Gladas fed on slaves or upper class members- just depending on the monster. As the Gladan Virus started infecting more and more people, their tastes began varying. Greatly. The Glada we could be looking for could like its victims for multiple qualities. We already know it likes children, but we don't know what else."

"How do we even know there's another trait?"

"Dean, think about it. This thing would be pigging out."

"And nine children isn't pigging out?"

"No. Not compared to what one of the these could do if it isn't controlled. According to this site, these things are super strong.. And we need to kill it before it kills any more kids."

Dean nodded. "But first, we need to find out who it is."