The small farmhouse was sat amid an array of long fields out by the river and, as the twin beams swept across the front of the building and the neighboring barns, Dean was reminded of old Christmas card images. Not that he had ever received one like it, but he was sure he remembered seeing them and that they must have been take here.

"Empty."

It was a question more than a statement and Dean turned to his brother with a shrug. "If the number of cars that shot from here is any indication." He offered in agreement, parking the Impala up on the wide driveway and taking a deep breath. "But maybe we should take a back-up plan." Reaching into the glove box and taking out a small tin, he sought out an appropriate ID.

The two of them stepped out into the cold and headed towards the front door. Dean's persistent knocking was met with silence and their unspoken decision was made. Edging round to the rear of the large building, they picked the lock on the back door and crept into the large kitchen.

Moving through the house and communicating in hushed monosyllables, the two of them looked through family photos and recent paperwork. Sure there must be a link to be found between the four sick children, they pursued the notion in all but silence.

"Nothing."

Dean's whispered thought was suddenly loud in the still silence of the dark study. Sam spun towards him, the beam from his flashlight matching his motion.

"I guess it's time to head upstairs." Dean sighed, waving his torch towards the door.

The second story of the farmhouse spoke of a large family, with children ranging in ages from the baby whose nursery danced with Disney magic to the teenagers who had every games console imaginable.

The home gave off a feeling of contentment, even in its current abandonment, and it was almost too much for Sam. Weighed down with worry and a sense of impending doom, his vision was misted as he stepped into another brightly decorated room.

A football fan and a lover of red, the kid's walls were filled with posters of his heroes and held no evidence of the last few panicked hours. Shining the beam around the scattered clothes and toys that lay on the floor around him, Sam swallowed back the lump in his throat. There was a space amid the mess and a few crumpled packets of hastily opened emergency medical supplies seemed completely out of place on the pale carpet.

Sam could not keep his eyes from the newly discovered remains of the boy's sudden collapse. Wiping a hand over his face, he took a deep breath and shook his head slowly.

"SAM!"

Torn from his musing and his heart thumping loudly in his ears, Sam sprang to action and fled towards his brother's voice.

Dean was standing beside the partly open lace pink curtains of a young girl's princess-like bedroom. He kept his gaze fixed on the window sill, his torch beam lingering its trembled circle on the white window sill.

"What?" Sam urged in breathless panic, hurrying across the room. He followed his brother's dread-filled gaze and groaned in dismay. "Oh god, no …"

Dean reached out a shaking hand and touched the small pile of pale yellow dust on the paint-work. He lifted a small amount with his fingers and leaned down to smell the substance warily.

Sam was breathing hard, his flushed face alive with fear and he saw his brother's response. "Please, no." He took a step back and shook his head quickly. "Don't say it."

Dean turned slowly to face Sam and swallowed hard. "Sulphur." He confirmed in a whisper.

ooooo

Lying and subterfuge were possibly his least favorite parts of the job. Granted, some of the many methods they used to dispose of haunted remains or cursed objects required being in possession of some seriously disgusting potions, but this was worse. Hurrying from the hospital and unbuttoning the shirt collar that seemed to be strangling him, Sam was aware of his brother following quickly after him towards the waiting Impala.

Dean clambered inside the car and was quiet for a moment, sliding the knot of his tie open and letting out a heavy sigh. "D'you think the staff will alert the authorities? "

"I'm not sure." Sam answered quietly, "I guess it's not a big enough caseload for the CDC to be notified."

Dean nodded slowly. "And so far it's not fatal."

"Just not curable."

"Mmm." Dean wiped a hand over his face and yawned wearily. "God … why does it have to be kids?"

Sam empathized with a slight moan of agreement and twisted round to grab the small file from the back seat. He placed the papers on his lap and took a deep breath as he sifted through their research. "So … flu-like symptoms, open sores, respiratory distress … all manifesting within hours …"

Dean glanced down at the file and frowned in thought. "Don't most of these things have an incubation period?"

Sam nodded. "And usually highly contagious. But … this is picking out individuals …"

"And so far we have no clue as to what the link is here."

"Nope." Sam closed the file and turned to look back up at the hospital. "Why this girl …?" He pondered in all but a whisper. "Why Holly? Why not her brother …? And why the other kids…?"

Dean's frown grew and he shuddered slightly, turning on the engine and firing up the heaters. Peering out at the bright ivory sky and the small flakes of fresh-falling snow, he tapped idly at the steering wheel and licked his lips. "Hot chocolate."

"What?"

Dean turned to see his brother's confusion and laughed merrily. "It's what a days like these are for, Sammy-boy!" He enthused, "Hot chocolate with whipped cream and those little mini marshmallows."

Sam could not help the smile that pulled on his lips. "You know, for once I actually agree with you."

"Well, shit!" Dean eased the Chevy into gear and gunned the engine. "Let's find a diner before you change your mind!"

ooooo

The blizzard was closing in and it was just not a good plan to try and go out until it passed. Peering out of the motel window at the heavy snowfall that wafted past the glass, Dean sighed and let the heavy curtain swing back closed.

Crossing the room and grabbing a handful of cookies from the open packet on the table, Dean peered over his brother's shoulder. "Anything?"

Sam nodded in reply.

Leaning in closer to look at the files Sam opened onto the laptop screen, Dean swallowed his mouthful of chocolate chocolate chip hastily and grimaced in revulsion. "Is that …?"

"Yeah …" Sam confirmed quietly, "The doctors e-mailed images to the CDC to ask for advice."

"And quite how you now have them is again beyond my comprehension." Dean muttered, looking at the photographs in disgusted wonder.

"It's not chicken pox or measles." Sam observed in dismay, "That much they are sure of." He opened a new window and entered a few key words into the search box.

"What have the CDC said?"

"That they'll look into it." Sam shrugged.

"Vague and unhelpful."

"Mmm."

Dean shook his head and moved away, throwing his remaining cookies back onto the table and sinking onto the foot of the bed. Dragging a hand through his hair and frowning in thought, he was then startled by the sudden melody beside him. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he checked the caller ID and answered the call.

"Anything?"

"Not yet." Dean replied in dismay, "Johnny Mnemonic's hacking into just about every source he can think of but … it's weird, Bobby."

"When is it not?"

"True." Dean nodded, "What have you got?"

"Maybe something." Came the weary reply, "You got a map?"

Standing and heading for the table, Dean perched the phone between his jaw and shoulder and opened up their worn, creased map.

"These four cases are all that we know of, right?" Bobby urged, "And this is the exact order that they occurred?"

Frowning in intrigue, Dean marked the places as Bobby instructed and was aware of Sam looking on in interest. Standing up straight and peering down at the map, he then saw what Bobby was hinting at and gasped in wonder. "Holy crap!"

"What?" Sam stood and leaned over the table, squinting as he examined the marks on the map. "No way!"

"I'm still not sure what it is we're dealing with." Bobby admitted wearily, "But if this is what it looks like … at least we know where it might strike next."

ooooo

Frowning at the map in his lap and looking back up at the road sign, Sam frowned as he peered through the windshield at the beginnings of the town.

"Here we are. Billings, Montana." Dean announced, yawning wearily. "Where shall we head to first?"

"I'm not sure." Sam answered honestly, "I mean, this is the next town on the highway so …" He shrugged in uncertainty, "I guess we need to find what it is that moves through the towns."

"And meets kids."

"Yeah."

Dean stifled another yawn and stretched his arms out over the steering wheel, easing out aching muscles. "So … maybe … a kid's entertainer?"

Sam shrugged again.

"None of these kids went to the same school, right?"

"Nope." Sam affirmed with a sigh, "There's nothing they have in common except the strange illness that they picked up from somewhere." He looked out at the slowly rolling early morning traffic and shook his head slowly. "This is like - "

"Impossible?"

"Yeah."

Dean followed the line of cars towards the intersection and took a deep breath. "Nah … we've said that before and we've always come through. We'll find something somewhere, Sammy."

"Wow!" Sam stared at his brother in surprise, a smile at last softening his face. "Where'd this sudden optimism come from?"

"I dunno." Dean grinned, "Maybe it's the weather."

"Hey?" Sam's smile grew, "You hate driving in ice and blizzards!"

"I know." Dean shrugged, flicking on the radio. "But it reminds me of when we were kids, y'know? Making snow-monsters for target practice - "

"Yeah! Like every other normal family does!"

Dean laughed softly and gave a small nod. "Well, at least you can't say it was boring."

Sam studied his brother for a moment and reached across to thump his arm. "Okay, we're starting every day with cocoa and cookies."

"Fine by me." Dean agreed merrily and then peered out at the traffic, sighing in annoyance, "If we can just get into the town …"

Sam saw the frown developing on Dean's face and grinned happily. "Ah, there he is … that's the grouch I'm used to first thing in the morning …"

"Shut up!" Dean smiled.