The brothers watched as Jason swayed in front of them. His body hunched over; neck leaned at an odd angle. Spittle and blood projected from his twisted lips as he growled.

Sam reached out and pushed Dean's gun down.

"What are you doing?" Dean snapped, smacking his hand away.

"You can't shoot now," Sam said, voice lowered, "We're in a hospital. People will hear you."

"Well what else do you suggest we do, serve him tea and biscuits? He's a zombie."

"He doesn't seem to be too aggressive just yet."

"As in he's not eating me? Oh good. Let's just wait around till he gets to it."

"The sedative they gave him is probably still in his blood stream," Sam said, "Just don't make any sudden moves, we don't know how he'll react to us yet."

"How are we supposed to kill him without making any sudden moves, Sam?"

"Uh…what do they use in your movies?"

"Chainsaws are popular."

"I forgot mine at the hotel," Sam hissed, eyes locked on the dazed zombie.

"Guess he's gonna eat our brains, then."

"No, you're safe," Sam quipped, taking a cautious step backward, "You don't have one of those."

"Who do you think I look like, Paris Hilton?" Dean scoffed, stepping back beside his brother.

"The resemblance is striking," Sam said with a smirk. "So…ideas."

"Knock him out before the sedative stops working."

"Someone will still hear that."

"Well those are out options, Sammy. We shoot him or knock him out, cause—"

Jason lunged, cutting him off mid-sentence, and rammed into Dean. Caught off-guard, Dean fell to his knees, hands gripping Jason's shoulders tightly as the man strained to tear into him with his fingernails.

With a grunt of surprise, Sam grabbed Jason's shoulders and heaved backward, trying to get him off his brother. His hands slipped on the blood gathering at the base of the man's neck and half the bandage tore off in his grip.

"Sam!" Dean hissed as Jason's gaping mouth opened and shut with sharp clicking sounds inches from his face, "A little help here."

Sam gave up on manhandling Jason away from Dean and ripped the bulky phone on the bedside table out of the wall. He strode back over and slammed the phone into Jason's skull. It made a loud dinging sound when it connected.

Jason continued his quest to gnaw Dean's face off as though nothing had happened. Sam swore and swung again. And again. And again.

Blood from Jason's head splattered up onto Sam's face with each swing. For his part, Jason continued as though nothing was happing.

Dean pressed his back against the wall, aware and disgusted that one of his fingers was crammed through the hole in Jason's throat as he tried to use his legs to kick him off. The guy was too strong. "Sam! Stop playing around!"

"I'm trying!" Sam said angrily. He threw the phone back onto the bed, but in his haste it slammed into a tray and scattered its contents all over the floor. Eyes catching on a scalpel, Sam snatched it up and wrapped his arm around Jason's neck under his chin to get him away from Dean. Jason's teeth clamped down on his watch, and Sam swore before he drove the scalpel deep into the man's head.

Jason twitched and turned his rage on Sam, but Sam was already ripping the scalpel out and plunging it back in again, and again, and again—

Jason slumped against him, lifeless. Sam left the scalpel lodged in his brain and tugged him off his brother, who was crouched against the wall. "Son of a bitch," Dean panted, "Guy was strong as the Hulk."

"You okay?" Sam asked, checking him over.

Dean nodded. "You?"

"Yeah," Sam said, "He tried to gnaw my arm off but only managed to get my watch."

They stared at the body. "Well shit," Dean said, "He really was a zombie."

"Can't believe no one heard all that noise," Sam muttered, stepping closer to Jason's body.

"Probably all too busy having steamy sex in the closets—what are you doing?"

Sam pushed the torn gauze back from Jason's throat. The stitches had all been broken in the fight, revealing black, sticky globs of blood. The edges of the wound were crusted with white. "It's an infection. Probably from when he got bitten…" Sam said.

Dean leaned down beside Sam to get a look. "Huh," he said, "Didn't the guy just get bit yesterday? It spread fast." He felt his brother tense beside him and inwardly cursed himself for saying it.

Sam slowly swiveled his head to look at Dean.

"Sam," Dean said slowly, reading his brother's expression, "Don't worry, okay? This is all just a big coincidence."

"Let me see your bite," Sam said levelly.

"It doesn't look like that," he said, gesturing toward Jason, "I would know, alright? Anyway, you don't see me walking around trying to eat anyone."

"When was the last time you cleaned it?" Sam asked, in that same too-calm tone of voice that Dean knew all too well as the 'freaked out little brother' voice.

"Last night, right after we got back to the room."

Sam's eyebrows rose. "You didn't clean it today?"

"It doesn't hurt," Dean said defensively. He poked the wound hard with his finger. "See? And it's not seeping through the bandages or anything, so I just left it alone."

"Let me see it," Sam said again.

Dean dropped his arm to his side, "Later. We need to go before someone finds us in here standing over a dead guy and covered in his blood."

"No," Sam said stubbornly.

"But Sam—"

Sam growled in frustration and grabbed Dean's left arm, moving his sleeve up to reveal the bandage. "Stay still," he said, and started carefully removing it.

Knowing better than to argue, Dean let his brother unwind the bandage from his arm. He kept his eyes focused on Sam's face, waiting for his reaction.

Sam didn't react. His eyes remained locked on Dean's arm, staring levelly at the bite. Somehow, that worried Dean more than anything his brother might have said.

"What is it?" he said quietly. "Sammy?"

Sam finally met his gaze, expression still unreadable. "It's…" he said, and stopped. "It's bad."

Dean breathed out slowly and then looked at his arm. The bite was transformed from last night, filled with black gooey blood and crusted with white. Just like Jason's. Still in disbelief, he reached up and pushed on it with a finger. No pain. A few clumps of dried blood dislodged and drifted to the floor.

Dean looked back at his brother, who had gone white and was still staring at the bite. He put his hand over it, trying to shield it from him. "Sam," he said, "It's okay."

Sam shook his head. "We need to find out what's going on," he said, "Now."

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