Over the course of the next few minutes, Sam and Graham decorate the windows of the train with permanent markers, painting symbols of protection on the glass.

Dean sits down and inspects his watch. The time is now 9am. He glances over at the businessman beside him. His tie is skewed, his jacket stained and his face contorted in frustration. Dean struggles to conjure words of sympathy.

"Hey dude, I'm sorry you missed your meeting."

"I think I have bigger problems to worry about right now." the man snaps, clutching his head.

"Suit yourself." Dean shrugs, unfazed by the all-too-typical rudeness. "Sorry for trying to sympathise."

"If you want to help me, get me a coffee." he hisses. "Your goofy brother emptied my last cup onto this $500 Armani suit."

Dean grits his teeth and goes to fetch the flask. He pours out the water and watches Sam and Graham deep in conversation, containing his envy.

"A 15-day tour of the States." Graham explains. "We're heading all the way from New York to California, stopping off in famous landmarks of music."

"Let me guess: you were just in Nashville," Sam deduces. "'the capital of country music'."

"Yup." Graham nods with a smile. "What are the chances of three hunters meeting up on a train in Tennessee?"

Sam chortles. "I wouldn't call yourself a hunter just yet. You still have a lot to learn."

"And you're gonna teach me, right?" Graham asks with obvious enthusiasm.

Sam smiles and focuses on the window. "Maybe."

"What do you mean, 'maybe'? Why can't I become just like you guys?"

"Trust me, Graham, you don't wanna be anything like us." Sam says cynically. "Once you become a hunter, you never stop. You'll be forever on the road, chasing demons day and night. You'll die."

"Not if you guys are with me." Graham says as he pops the cap onto the permanent marker. "I mean, you guys aren't dead yet."

Sam restrains a chuckle. If only he knew.

Suddenly, there is a loud cough. Sam and Graham turn around to find the man in the suit suffering a violent fit, spewing blood for his mouth.

"Do something!" Heather cries desperately.

Dean kneels helplessly beside him as the blood continues to trickle from his lips down his stained white shirt. The crowd of passengers gathers round, watching curiously. Eventually, the coughing stops and the man's head rolls backwards. Dead.

"Dean, what the hell happened?" Sam asks demandingly.

"I don't know!" Dean shouts angrily. "I just gave him the coffee and he started choking blood!"

Sam grabs the cup off coffee from the table and examines it closely.

"You think he was possessed?" Graham asks anxiously.

Sam swills the blackened water round and round in the paper cup. "I think he was poisoned."

There is a hushed murmuring amongst the crowd: everyone begins to question and suspect not only each other, but the validity of the claim.

Dean looks to Sam; a mix of disbelief and despair. "Are you sure?" he asks.

"Holy water burns a demon: it doesn't make them cough up blood." Sam insists. "There's no other way."

Dean eyes him sceptically, but has no choice but to believe him: Sam hasn't been wrong so far. He lifts his gun and addresses the fearful crowd of passengers. "Ok guys, shit just got serious: someone on this train is poisoning people and it's one of you."

"It was you who gave him the drink." Ryan notes.

All eyes on Dean. Dean disguises his discomfort and stands up straight. "You honestly think I did this?" he scowls. "I've done nothing but tried to protect you sons of bitches, and you accuse me of murder?!"

"He's right, Dean." Jolene adds, folding her arms. "But it was your brother and that kid who were doing all that voodoo stuff with the flask earlier."

The accusing finger of the crowd shifts to Sam and Graham. Sam stands with his mouth agape in utter disbelief. Graham remains emotionless.

"Let's...just keep calm..." Heather says in an attempt to diffuse the tension, but her shaky stance still shows her nerves.

"We need to know who's behind this." Sam states. "Who's possessed."

"How, Sam?" Dean asks, frustrated. "Inject them all with poisoned holy water?"

Sam looks to the floor in deep thought. The cogs in his brain turn under the unbroken gaze of the anticipative passengers, Dean and Graham. A flashbulb in his eyes signifies a sudden burst of imagination. He looks up and speaks. "Christo."