A/n: So it turns out I was able to find some time to write for this story! Sorry it's been awhile but after this week, things should be back to normal...hopefully. If anyone is following "If I Die Before I Wake," I'm sorry for the wait but I have started the next chapter for that one as well and hopefully I can get it posted by this month. If not this one, the beginning of the next for sure. I appreciate your patients.

Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and/ or followers as well any who favorite. Special thanks for the support and friendship of LilyBolt and miXiZ as well as all your time and thoughts.

Ch 3

Dean had been far from in a good mood, and Dr. Day's dramatic history lesson on the government at the morgue was certainly not helping. Not even his bubbly young blonde Secretary with an exceptionally generous chest and flirtatious advances could sway Dean to lighten up.

He had arrived in Florida the previous night and slept only a solid two hours. For the first time in a long time, the Mark hadn't been the cause of sleep deprivation. At every gas station, restaurant, and rest stop, Dean had called his little brother just to have the phone ring until his voicemail picked up. The first two times he had managed to convince himself that Sam had been resting and hadn't heard his phone. He never had the damn thing off vibrate anyways. By the fifth call and the third rest stop, concern had started to eat away at Dean's mind. Maybe it would have been better to have waited for Cas to show up before he took off. Sam hadn't seemed like he was in too poor a shape before he had left, but maybe he had been wrong. It wasn't like his brother would let him see how bad his condition was if it had been terrible. Not that Dean couldn't tell anyways. In another life the younger Winchester would have made a great actor. He certainly was dramatic enough and he knew how to put on one hell of a show when he wasn't getting his way or wanted to get his point across. To make matters worse, the angel wasn't answering his phone either. With neither his sick little brother nor his best friend whom was suppose to be watching over said sibling responding to his calls, the doctor's constant babble about how he thought the government had gone to shit and how his grandfather had been an agent back when it was something to be proud of, was really grinding Dean's last nerve. He rubbed absently at his right forearm.

"Look Dr. Day's Of Our Lives," he snapped. "I really don't have time to stand here with my fingers up my ass and listen to you bitch about the bureau, nor do I care to." His harsh dismissive tone got the doctor to shut his mouth instantly. The bureau was probably going to be hearing from the old man later. "Just take me to the bodies." Dr. Day didn't say anything but motioned for Dean to follow him into the back, bringing him to stand at a table where the body of a young woman was laying.

A white sheet covering her breast down to her toes had been placed over her as was so often the case in a morgue. Her skin was passed pale and borderline white, except for her lips which had a tinge of blue to them.

"Shannon Turner. Age 22, healthy girl. Didn't smoke, hardly drank, never broke a bone or had a surgery in her entire life."

She looked completely fine for a dead girl. It was just like Sam had said, no wounds, no blood, no bullet holes, no vamp teeth marks, no heart or other organs missing, not even a scratch or a bruise could be found. Once Dean had examined her, he asked to see the other three victims. The doctor admitted that they only had one more. The other two had been buried about a week ago. He examined the other body and came to the same conclusion as he had with the first one.

"So this guy and that girl and the other two that are now worm food were all found at the wildlife sanctuary, right?" Dr. Day gave Dean a disapproving look at the indelicate way he referred to the now deceased.

"That's correct Agent."

"And no clue what the cause is?"

"You saw for yourself there was no sign of foul play or self harm, not even an accident."

"They just keeled over and died? It wasn't a heart attack?"

"Not in the sense you mean."

"Meaning?"

"Well there were no signs of one, but the effects may have been similar."

Dean peered over at the doctor with raised eyebrows.

"Does any of what you just said actually make any sense to you, at all?"

"Not a one. But between the sudden heart stop and the look on their faces-"

"What look?" Dean quickly cut the man off. Leave it to a non hunter to skip out on the important details.

"Well, all of them were found with a look of pure terror on their faces. Mouth open, eyes wide. We were able to get to these two in time before rigamortis set in, but the others...let's just say they had a closed casket funeral."

"So they were scared to death? That's possible?"

"Yes it's quite possible, you wouldn't believe the amount of people who die of fright, literally. However, I'm not sure that's what this is."

"So you really have no clue?" Dean questioned, irritation climbing into his voice once again. The older man shrugged and shook his head. With no other ideas himself and what little patience he had left slipping, he thanked the doctor and took off back to his Impala.

It had been raining buckets in Florida which only made Dean happier that Sam wasn't there with him. It may not have been a cold rain, but it didn't mean it couldn't make his situation worse. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and checked the screen, no messages. He thumbed his way through his contacts and called Sam.

Unlike all the previous calls, this one skipped over the ringing and jumped straight to voicemail followed by a machine informing him that the mailbox of the person he was trying to reach was full and was no longer taking any more messages. Dean hadn't been expecting his luck to miraculously change, but he also didn't think he could feel any more uneasy then he already did. He was wrong. He hung up and tried Cas. It rang and then went to what was supposedly voicemail. The angel had improved his understanding of how to work a phone over the years, but he still didn't quite get the hang of leaving a simple normal recording. Dean pressed end not wanting to leave the angel yet another message. He wasn't even sure Cas knew how to check them, but at least he would see that he had called and hopefully he would call him back.

Though the morgue was almost a complete waste of his time, Dean did manage to obtain some information at least that may come in handy. The address of the recently deceased girl. Hopefully he would have better luck there.

He arrived in front of a small house displaying gold numbers that matched the ones given to him by the doctor's Secretary. Trying to avoid getting drenched by the weather, he quickly dashed from his car, up the little pathway and onto the covered porch. Dean double checked his hidden pocket to make sure he had his fake ID, then knocked. A bark instantly sounded from inside making him gulp and take a cautious step back. A few seconds later, a woman appeared. Her blue eyes narrowed when she saw Dean and she struggled to keep a hold on the collar of a white German Shepherd who was trying anxiously to get to the intruder.

"Yes?"

"Mrs. Tanner?"

"What do you want with my sister now?"

"I'm Special Agent Seger," Dean replied flashing his badge. "I'm here to talk to her about her daughter Shannon." The woman rolled her eyes.

"I don't understand why the FBI is even interested in my niece's case. Surely you have more important things to stick your nose in. Besides we've already spoken with one of your men earlier, how many do you need to send?"

"Excuse me?" Dean asked caught off guard.

"Just leave my family alone." Before he could get another word out, the dog was pulled back and the door slammed in his face. There shouldn't have been any more "agents." Unless the actual FBI had made an appearance or Rudy had shared the case info with someone else. The possibility that there was another hunter was far more likely then the real deal bureau following up on the case. Maybe Rudy hadn't sent them and they had just caught a whiff on their own. It's not like he and his brother were the only two hunters in the world, although at times it felt like it. After being blamed for opening the Gates of Hell and jump starting the apocalypse a few years back, not to mention news getting out about Sam's psychic powers what seemed like forever ago now, the Winchesters weren't on many other hunter's go to list.

Dean left the victim's house and returned to the motel he was staying at. The day had been a bust with no new leads and no questions answered, only added. A headache had started to nag at him and his mood had decreased even more by the time he had called it quits for the night.

As he climbed the stairs up to his room, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He could feel his heartbeat pick up with every step and his forearm began to send out that burning itch he had become all too accustom to. Dean slid his hand to his right side, gave himself a mental countdown, then whipped his handgun from the waistband of his slacks. He spun around completely so that he was facing the threat, and aimed it at his follower.