It had been a week since Martha was attacked, but Dean had noticed a shift in their group's dynamics. It was bad enough that Sam had been acting weird since his return from Lucifer's cage, but now Martha was behaving strangely as well.

Until now, the two of them had shared a motel room and Sam slept in a separate one. Now she insisted that Dean room with Sam while she stayed alone. She didn't object when Dean joined her in the middle of the night, but he could tell that she was more resistant than before. She didn't even go with them to question people anymore. He and Sam would go alone while she stayed behind to do research. Whenever he called her on it, she just said she was giving him and Sam time to bond, but Dean wasn't buying it. Something was definitely up with Martha and he was starting to get tired of her keeping it from him.

The three of them were in Illinois investigating a rash of suicides that resulted from the victims being bombarded by the truth. Dean had just followed up a lead that led nowhere and now he needed a drink. He drained the shot glass the pretty bartender set before him and weighed his options about getting another when his phone rang. "Hey Sammy, what's up?"

"I just left the coroner," Sam informed him. "All the victim's bodies are gone."

"What? Like they just up and vanished?"

"That's what the coroner said, but I think have a lead. One of the missing bodies, a woman named Corey, she died a whole week before everybody else."

"Was it a suicide?"

"Well, it was reported as a car accident, but no reason it couldn't have been."

Dean nodded. "So that could make her our patient zero, right?"

"Yea," Sam agreed. "I'm thinking maybe whatever got this whole curse thing rolling started with her. I'm at her place now, corner of Burnham and 159th."

Dean stared at his empty shot glass. "I'll meet you there. Just give me ten." He hung up and looked at the bartender. "You know what? I think I will have that other drink."

"Are you okay?" the bartender asked.

"No." Dean shook his head. "Not really."

"It's on me." The bartender smiled and poured Dean a shot. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Dean sighed softly. "Honestly, I'd just like the freaking truth." He lifted the shot glass to his lips and drained it. He slammed it down on the bar and slid it over to the bartender. "But I'll settle for another one of these."

"Sometimes I think I can't get pregnant because God knows my marriage is a sham," the bartender suddenly confessed to Dean. As soon as the words left her lips she frowned. "Why'd I say that?" Dean shook his head. "I mean I have been snorting oxy all day," she continued. She paused again. "Why'd I say that?"

Dean exhaled. "I'm pretty sure I know."

After the bartender's outburst and one really uncomfortable phone conversation with Bobby, Dean was convinced that whatever had infected their suicide victims was now cursing him as well. Or maybe it wasn't a curse.

He sat in the Impala and dialed Martha's cellphone. "Hey."

"Hey," Martha echoed. "Any luck on that lead?"

"No. It was just a dead end." Dean paused. "What about you? Anything you want to tell me?"

"Not really. I haven't gotten much done. I can't concentrate," Martha told him.

"Why?"

"All this stuff about truth got me thinking about how much I hate lying." Martha exhaled. "It's like the pressure literally builds up inside of me. I mean Tish used to ask me to cover for her when she snuck out to meet up with blokes, but hated keeping it from my mum." She scoffed softly. "I swear if Tish wasn't so rubbish at sneaking around, I would've spilled to my mum every single time." She paused. "Where'd that come from?"

"What are you lying about this time?" Dean asked.

"I've been lying to you about wanting you and Sam to have time to bond."

"Why?" Dean pressed.

"Because I love you and I don't want to hurt you, but I really don't trust Sam. I mean, my skin crawls whenever I'm in the same room with him," Martha answered. "I don't even want to ride in the same car with him, much less work a bloody case together."

"What?" Dean scoffed. "You said loved Sam. Where is all of this suddenly coming from?"

"Well I did love him until he buggered off and all but feed me to a vampire," Martha replied bitterly. She gasped. "Why did I say that?"

"Feed you to a vampire?" Dean repeated.

"I saw him in the alley," Martha added. "He watched me get turned with a bloody smile on his face!" She paused. "Why am I telling you this?"

"What you saw…" Dean exhaled. "Are you sure that's what you saw?"

"My boyfriend's brother hanging back while I get bitten by a vampire, yea, I think I'd remember that pretty vividly."

Dean wasn't sure what he was expecting to hear from Martha, but he definitely wasn't expecting what he got. He supposed it made sense though. She made a point never to be alone with Sam anymore. The two of them used to have conversations about all kinds of brainy stuff that Dean didn't get, but not anymore. In fact, with the exception of when they were in the Impala or having meals together, Martha had avoided being around Sam all together.

He knew something was off about Sam, but he wouldn't intentionally let something happen to Martha, would he? He thought back to Sam's insistence on letting Cass use painful means to extract information from that kid. The old Sam wouldn't have put someone's safety on the line for a lead. Then again the old Sam wouldn't have used a baby shifter as bait for an Alpha either.

Dean cleared his throat. "Don't worry," he told Martha after a few moments of silence. "I'll get to the bottom of it."

Dean met Sam on the stairwell to the first victim's apartment. "Where have you been?" Sam asked as they walked down the stairs together. "I found something." He showed Dean a small floral printed box.

"It can wait. We gotta talk," Dean insisted. "There's a few things I need to ask you and you're gonna tell me the truth."

"Of course I will, Dean. What are you talking about?" Sam paused. "Whoa. Are you saying you're—"

Dean nodded. "I asked for the truth and dammit I'm getting it. So, like I said, I have a few questions for you." He hesitated. "When that vamp attacked Martha, did you just stand there?"

Sam glanced down at his feet. "Yes."

"Why?" Dean demanded more harshly than he intended.

Sam looked up at Dean. "I froze."

"You froze?" Dean scoffed. "You've been like frigging Terminator since you got back."

"I dunno." Sam shrugged. "I guess it was just shock. I wanted to stop it, but I froze. And then it was too late." He sighed. "I feel terrible about it, Dean. Believe me. I mean I can't lie here. And do you really think I would let something like that happen on purpose? You're my brother. Martha is like family. How could you even think—"

"Okay. Okay. Sorry," Dean cut him off. "Martha thought she saw something. And I thought...I guess I was wrong. It's just been a really, really bad day."

"It's okay. I got your back, all right?" Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I always have." He started down the stair ahead of him.

Dean eyed Sam's back suspiciously. "Thanks, Sammy."

Dean paced back and forth staring at a bloodied Sam tied to a chair. The events of the last few hours played over and over in his head. The phone conversation he had with Martha. Sam telling him that he froze in the alley. Veritas freaking out about Sam's ability to lie to her. Dean didn't want to believe the worst, but when the freaking goddess of truth calls you on yours lies, then it's time to take stock.

"Are you going to tell us what happened?" Martha asked from Dean's side.

"He looks terrible," Castiel commented as he inspected Sam closely. He glanced back at Dean. "You did this?"

Sam grunted and struggled against his restraints. "Will you let me go?"

Castiel continued his examination. "Has he been feverish?"

"Have you?" Dean demanded.

"No." Sam replied. "Why?"

"Is he speaking in tongues?" Castiel looked at Sam. "Are you speaking in tongues?"

"No." Sam recoiled slightly until his scrutiny. "Are you diagnosing me?"

Dean folded his arms across his chest. "You better hope he can."

"How much do you sleep?" Castiel continued.

Sam exhaled. "I don't."

Martha took a step closer to Sam. "At all?"

Sam shook his head. "Not since I got back."

"You're been back for months," Martha stated skeptically. "Not sleeping that long. It's medically impossible! You'd be dead right."

"It never occurred to you that there might be something off about that," Dean questioned angrily.

"Of course it did, Dean," Sam answered. "I just never told you."

"Sam..." Castiel interrupted. "What are you feeling now?"

"I feel like Dean broke my nose." Dean rolled his eyes.

"No, that's a physical sensation," Castiel countered. "How do you feel?"

Sam hesitated. "I…don't know."

Castiel sighed softly and removed his belt. "This will be unpleasant," he informed Sam.

"W-w-what?" Sam stammered.

Castiel held his belt up to Sam's mouth. "Bite down on this," he instructed. "If there's someplace that you find soothing, you should go there in your mind." Before Sam could protest, Castiel pushed up his sleeve and plunged his arm into Sam's chest causing Sam to the scream painfully. After a few seconds, Castiel pulled his arm out of Sam's chest, leaving Sam gasping for breath.

"Did you find anything," Dean asked tensely.

"No."

Martha watched Cass warily. "So, is that good or bad?"

"Physically, he's perfectly healthy," Cass told them.

Dean unfolded his arms. "So then what is it?"

"It's his soul," Cass stared Dean in the eyes. "It's gone."