Hey everyone. Thank you soo much for your reviews! You don't know how much they mean to me, I just haven't been having a good week, and, well, I won't bore you with the details but thank you so much for reading. I wasn't going to post this until tomorrow but can't sleep so...here you go.

...The next morning…

"So, what? You saying this whole shindig was a complete waste of time?"

"Yep," Sam replied into his phone, stepping carefully around another weak patch in the manor's floor. "No screwy EMF readings, no temperature changes…and I rechecked the supposed hauntings of the place last night—"

"You know you're supposed to sleep at night, right?"

"And they're all pretty jumbled," Sam continued, ignoring him, "Like I told you before."

"So now this is my fault?"

"No, it's no one's fault," he said, leaning against a musty doorframe and wincing when the whole thing shifted slightly under his weight, "There's just no ghost. It's an old house that's falling apart and makes weird noises."

"You sure? Cause we could always burn the place down to cover all the bases—"

Sam smirked and ended the call. He slipped the phone back in his pocket and walked out onto the ivy covered porch and down the wooden steps to the Impala. On the short drive back to the room he decided to stop at the local gas station to get some coffee.

A little bell rattled against the glass door as he pushed it open. The store was empty save for two teenage girls behind the cash register who were talking in fast, hushed voices to each other. An old clunky television broadcasted the news from where it was perched on top of the tobacco shelf. The volume was muted.

Sam walked over to the girls and motioned to them to get their attention.

"What?" the shorter one said snippily.

"Uh…I'd like a large coffee; two creams, three packets of sugar."

The girl shot a glance at her fellow coworker and then shook her head before turning back to him, "That it?"

"Yeah."

"Fine. Gimme a minute," she said briskly. She snatched up a tall styrofoam cup from under the counter and splashed some coffee in it in front of him. "Two-fifty."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Cream and sugar?"

"Oh," the girl grumbled. She reached into the bins under the counter and slapped a handful of sugar packets and about five creamers on the counter beside the coffee. "Two-fifty," she said again, turning slightly to glance at the television.

Sam glanced upwards at the screen. A newscaster was deep in conversation with a doctor; they were both standing inside a hospital. He moved his eyes back to the girl. "Is something wrong?"

A strangled laugh escaped from the girl's throat. "Wrong? Is something wrong?" she repeated, on the twinge of hysterics, "I shouldn't be here. I'm waiting for my uncle to get here, take me to the hospital. I should be there, not serving people coffee."

Confused, Sam looked to the second teen for help. She met his gaze and smiled apologetically. "Her cousin was attacked this morning," she said quietly.

"Attacked?" Sam repeated.

"Some guy," the first girl burst out, fighting back sobs, "Some guy bit him when he was getting into his car for work. Bit him."

"You should go," the second girl said hurriedly, shoving his coffee toward him, "Here. It's on the house."

"Took a huge chunk out of his neck," the first teen continued. "His neck! Who does that? What kind of sick bastard—"

"Please…just go," the second girl said, wrapping her arms around her crying friend, "And—and on the way out, just turn the sign on the door so that it says closed, would you?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam said, backing away slowly, "You sure she's alright? Do you need anything?"

"Nah, her uncle will be here soon," the girl said, and turned away from him to console her friend.

Sam turned from her and pushed the door open, making sure to turn the sign on his way out. Once outside he dumped the coffee and ridiculous amount of creamers into the rusted trash can and strode over to the newspaper bin. He put some money in the slot, pulled out a fresh newspaper, and scanned the front page.

"Shit…"

SNSNSN

Dean was in the bathroom when he heard his brother open the door and slap his keys down on the wooden table. He finished drying his face and walked into the room. "Well, I talked to the old grandmother who owns the house and I've come to a final verdict. She's insane."

"Really?" Sam said offhandedly, leafing urgently through a stack of newspapers he had spread out all over the table.

Dean looked at him strangely but continued, "Yeah. She wouldn't say a word about the house, just kept trying to hook me up with all her granddaughters…and normally I'd be okay with that, but they're all about 45 years old and have double chins. She showed me pictures. Scary as hell."

Sam grunted something noncommittal.

Dean took a step further into the room. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to see if this is just a coincidence," Sam said, pulling out a new paper and flipping through it.

"Uh…Sam?" Dean said, walking up next to him. "The haunted house? It's a no go. We've already established this—"

"This isn't about the house," Sam interrupted him, coming to the end of the paper and tossing it to the carpet.

"O-kay…what then? You decide to take up recycling or something?"

"How's your shoulder?" Sam asked, still skimming through the headlines.

"Fine," Dean said, shrugging his shoulders up and down as though to prove a point.

"Really?" Sam said skeptically, meeting his gaze for the first time.

"Yeah. It's peachy, no big deal. Hell, I've had worse rug burns. If that's what's got you all worked up—"

Sam wordlessly held up a newspaper in his face. "Check this out," he said simply.

Dean raised an eyebrow and took the paper from him. "Water shortage closes local pool," he read out loud. He looked up. "Sounds tragic."

"No," Sam griped, pointing down at a smaller article in the corner of the page.

Dean read the headline. He paused. "Oh."

"Read it," Sam said flatly.

Dean glanced at his brother's nervous expression and then returned his focus to the article. He read it once, paused, and then reread it more slowly.

"Well?" Sam asked impatiently.

Dean tossed the paper back down on the table. "Some guy got bitten, big deal."

"By a person," Sam pointed out.

"Some people are monsters, Sam. We already know this. I mean, remember the Benders?"

"This man was bitten in the next town over. Less than ten miles away. This morning."

"Coincidence," Dean said. "Besides, I thought we weren't ever going to mention last night again."

Sam shook his head, ignoring him, "It's too much of a coincidence for two people to get bitten by a person within a day's time. Something's off."

"Maybe it was the same person, Sam," Dean said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "Guy bites me, runs off, and bites this guy the next morning. It's just a person."

"A person who walks ten miles in a few hours?"

Dean raised his hands, "I don't know, maybe he drove."

"You said he looked homeless."

"He did, but…give me a break," Dean said, agitated. "It was dark, Sam, okay? I didn't get a good look at him. I don't know what you want me to say."

Sam opened his mouth and then shut it again. He groaned. "Just…just answer one question, okay? One question, and I'll shut up."

"Deal," Dean said.

"Does this look suspicious?" Sam said. He saw that Dean was about to say something and cut him off, "No, I'm not done. I mean, if our roles were reversed, and I was the idiot that got himself bitten by a homeless guy—"

"—hey!—"

"Would this look suspicious to you? That's all I'm asking, because I might be overreacting or jumping to conclusions. If our roles were reversed, and you saw this article in the paper, what would you do?"

Dean ground his teeth together. "That's not—"

"Dean."

"Fine!" Dean exclaimed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I'd want to check it out. To make sure."

"Okay then," Sam said. He swept all the newspapers into the trash beside the television and then started shoving his stuff back inside his duffel.

Dean slumped backward on the bed in defeat. "Now?"

"Yes."

"This is stupid."

"I don't care."

"You're stupid."

"That comeback was stupid," Sam shot back, and looked up from his packing to shoot his brother a grin. "Besides, it's not that bad. If we stay in the area you can always hook up with that lady's granddaughters. I'm sure their multiple chins look gorgeous in candlelight…"

Dean groaned. "Of course, you remember that now. I thought you weren't paying attention."

"I always pay attention. Now pack."

"Whatever," Dean said, pushing himself up off the bed. "We're not staying there long. We go, check out the guy in the hospital, and leave when nothing out of the ordinary happens."

Sam watched his brother go over to the other side of the room to gather his things. "That's what I'm hoping for," he said quietly.