Mark walks over and opens the door, letting Duane in. He has a backpack and is limping. "Thank god," Duane sighs.
"Duane, you okay?" Mark asks him, noticing the limp.
"That's the guy that I, uh, *clicks tongue*?" Dean whispers to Sam, but I overhear and the terror grips me. This is Sam's vision coming true.

"Yeah," Sam answers, bleakly.

"Who else is in here?" Duane asks, looking between Sam, Dean and I, and Mark. When he doesn't get a response, he moves to get up.
Dean grabs his arm. "Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, chief. Hey Doc! Give Duane a good once-over, would you?"
Dr. Lee leads us into the lab.
"Who are you?" Duane inquires, eyeing us."Never mind who we are," Dean retorts. "Doc."
"Yeah, okay." Dr. Lee begins examining the newcomer.

"Duane. Where you been?" Mark asks.
"On a fishing trip up by Roslyn. I came back this afternoon," Duane replies. "I . ." he pauses, swallowing audibly. "I saw Roger McGill being dragged out of his house by people we know! They started cutting him with knives! I ran, I've been hiding in the woods ever since. Has anybody seen my mom and dad?"
Dean turns to me and Sam, attempting a joking tone, "Awkward . . . " I roll my eyes and Sam gives his perfect bitch face.
Duane is sitting on a stool letting the doctor continue her exam. I notice his left leg has a deep gash in it.
"You're bleeding," I state. All eyes are on Duane as we take in his disheveled appearance.
"Where'd you get that?" Dean demands.
"I was running, I must have tripped," Duane tells us. I want to believe him but there is just something about the young man. I can pin point it, but he is giving off odd vibes.
"Tie him up, there's rope in there," Dean instructs.
"Wait . . .," Duane says, fear evident in his voice.
Dean pulls his gun, points it at Duane.
"Stay still!"
"I'm sorry, Duane, he's right. We've gotta be careful," Mark explains to Duane.
"Careful? About what?"
"Did they bleed on you?" Dean asks the,question on everyone's mind.

"No, what the hell? No!" The query confusing him.
"Doc? Any way to know for sure, any test?" Sam turns to the doctor.
"I've studied Beverly's blood work backwards and forwards."
"My mom!" Duane screams.
"It took three hours for the virus to incubate," Dr, Lee explains. "The sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so . . . no, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane turns."
"Dean, I gotta talk to you. Now." Sam tells his brother and then looks pointedly at me.
Dean glances at Mark, who nods. Dean, Sam and I leave the lab.

"Sit in that chair," Mark requests of the young man.

As soon as we were out of earshot Sam turned to us, "This is my vision, Dean. It's happening."
"Yeah, I figured," Dean agreed.
"You can't kill him, all right? Not yet. We don't know if he's infected or not."
"Well, I think we're pretty damn sure. Guy shows up out of nowhere, he's got a cut on his leg, his whole family's infected?"
"All right, then we should keep him tied up, and we should wait and see," I tell the boys
"For what? For him to Hulk out and infect somebody else? No thanks, can't take that chance," Dean scoffs at my suggestion.
He tries to push past Sam, but Sam stops him with a hand on his chest.

"Hey look, man, I'm not happy about this, okay? But it's a tough job and you know that," Dean says, looking up at his brother.
"It's supposed to be tough, Dean. We're supposed to struggle with this, that's the whole point," Sam tries to reason with him.
"What does that buy us?" Dean scoffs at his brother's logic
"A clear conscience, for one!" I say, trying to rationalize with him. He can't just go in there half-cocked, ready to shoot.
"Well, it's too late for that," he tells me, a hint of aggravation in his voice.
"What the hell's happened to you? Why are you fighting us on this?" I yell at him. His attitude is beginning to make me furious. It's like he doesn't even care that that is just a human in there, someone's son.
"What?" Dean shouts, oblivious to my agitation and his being unreasonable.
"You might kill an innocent man, and you don't even care! You don't act like yourself anymore, Dean. Hell, you know what? You're acting like one of those things out there," Sam yells at him, pointing toward the exit.
"Mm-hmm," I hum in agreement.
Dean looks at me, almost apologetic then pushes past Sam. Sam tries to stop him again but Dean hurls him against the far wall. I run over to check on Sam and look up to chastise Dean for trying to hurt Sam. Why can't he see that we are just looking out for him.I watch as he goes back into the hall and locks the door behind him.
"Hey!" I get up and,walk to the door,rattling the lock. "Open the damn door, Dean! Don't do it, Dean! Don't!" Sam is now standing behind me, eyes hard and locked on his brother.
Dean drops the clip out of his gun and taps it against the butt, then replaces it. He opens the door to the lab and we watch him disappear.
"No, you're not gonna . . . No, no, I swear it's not in me!" I can hear Duane begging for his life. "Please, don't. Don't, please. I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me, I swear, I, I swear it's not in me. No, don't. Please!"
Minutes stretch as Sam and I listen for any sounds coming from the lab.
"Damn it!" I hear Dean exclaim. He walks back in, unlocks the door and opens it. I lock eyes with him, fury clear in mine, as Sam and I leave our temporary prison. I don't say a word as I go to check on the other people in the building. How dare he lock us up while he goes off to murder a possible innocent human. I was livid and knew not to interact with him for the time being, fearing something will be said or done that couldn't be fixed.

I take inventory of the filled cabinets in the lab, the copious amounts of pharmaceuticals lining them. Surely with provisions such as these, we could make explosives and other weapons to aid in our escape.

"Uh, could we make our own ammunition?" I ask, gesturing to the bottles of drug compounds and empty jars.

Sam looks at me in awe, amazed at my determination and attention. "Yes, Nic. We sure can," he smiles at me and walks over, beginning to take bottles off the shelves.

I help Sam bring everything we need to the counter and we start pouring the ingredients to make explosives into the empty glass jars topped with gauze sticking out of it to use as sucks. Dr. Lee enters and looks at Dean, then to Sam and I.
"It's been over four hours. Duane's blood is still clean," she tells us. "I don't think he's infected. I'd like to untie him, if that's all right."
I look to Dean who looks at Sam. Sam nods and Dean lowers his head. I watch the doctor walk back out and look at Dean.
"You know I'm gonna ask you why," I say.
"Yeah, I know," he says, quietly not raising his head completely.
"So why? Why didn't you do it?" I ask, going back to my task.
"We need more alcohol," Sam says, standing up to probably give us some privacy. He heads to the dispensary.
Dean doesn't answer me before we hear a commotion coming from the room Sam is in.I look up to see the door shut. We both race to the door only to find it is locked from the inside. Dean kicks the door open and we find Pam straddling Sam, with a bloody palm held on his collarbone. Dean pulls his pistol from his waistband and shoots her three times in the back. She convulses and falls to the floor. Sam reaches out a hand to Dean, who starts to lean over to take it but I grab his shoulder, pulling him away.
"She bled on him," I say, sorrowful. "He's got the virus." I look at Sam sadly. He pulls his hand back, realizing it's true.

Sam pushes himself off the floor and sits on a stool, grabbing a bandage and pressing it to his collarbone. His eyes are down, near tears and it is breaking my heart. Dr. Lee and Mark rushes in to find Pam lying in the floor, dead and Dean pacing angrily. They look at me wide-eyed and I shrug.

"Doc, check his wound, would you?" When Dr. Lee doesn't respond, he yells at her. "Doctor!"

"What's she need to examine him for? You saw what happened."

Dr. Lee approaches Sam. "Did her blood actually enter your wound?"

"Come on, of course it did!" Mark exclaims.

"We don't know that for sure.," Dean argues. "We can't take a chance.," he tells Dean. "You know what we have to do."

"Nobody is shooting my brother," Dean sys, stepping up to him.

"He isn't gonna be your brother much longer," Mark declares. "You said it yourself."

"Nobody is shooting anyone!"

"You were gonna shoot me!"

"You don't shut your pie-hole, I still might!"

"Dean, they're right. I'm infected; just give me the gun and I'll do it myself," Sam speaks up.

"Forget it.," Dean says, stepping away from Mark.

"Dean, I'm not gonna become one of those things," Sam pleads with his brother.

"Sam, we've still got some time," I say, walking toward him and laying my hand on his shoulder.

"Time for what?" Mark asks me and then turns to Dean. "Look, I understand he's your brother, and I'm sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of this." Mark pulls out his handgun, stepping closer to Sam.

"I'm gonna say this one time — you make a move on him, you'll be dead before you hit the ground. You understand me? I mean, do I make myself clear?!" I tell Mark as he takes aim toward Sam.

"Then what are we supposed to do?!"

Dean tosses Mark his keys. "Get the hell out of here, that's what. Take my car. You've got the explosives, there's an arsenal in there. You two go with him. You've got enough firepower to handle anything now. Nic, you go with them!"

"Wha? Dean, no. I'm not leaving you here. Either of you!" I retort.

"Yes, you are. I'm not having you in danger of getting infected too," he remarks, pulling me to him. "I couldn't take it. I couldn't end you, no matter how bad you were." He whispers as he tugs me into his chest. "Just go. For me, please?"

"What about you?" he asks Dean who just shakes his head.

"Dean, no. No. Go with them. Go with Nic. This is your only chance!"

"You're not gonna get rid of me that easy," Dean replies, a small smile on his lips.

"No, he's right. Come with us," I beg Dean.

"Okay, it's your funeral," Mark tells Dean and leaves the room, Duane following him. The doctor gives us all a small smile and says,"Thanks for everything, Marshals" and leaves the room.I turn to Dean and grab him, hugging him tightly. Stepping back I looked up into Dean's eyes. They were swimming with emotion. I knew mine had to look the same. I was about to walk out the door and leave the man I loved behind. Not only him, but his brother. My heart was breaking at the thought of never seeing them again. Reaching up I wrapped my arms around his neck pulling his lips to mine. It wasn't slow and sensual or hot and passionate. It was filled with all the things I wanted to say, but didn't know how and probably wouldn't get the chance to.I ran my fingers through his hair as I caressed his tongue with my own. I did my best to memorize the feel of him in my arms, his scent, the way he tasted, and how I felt being near him. If this was to be goodbye I wanted to remember every last detail. I pulled away only when I had to, resting my forehead against his. I tried to form the words to tell him I loved him, but I couldn't. Instead, I gave him one last peck before walking away from him for what may be the last time.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Lee says as I meet her in the lobby. "It's gotta be hard leaving your partners like that."

"Oh, actually we're not really Marshals," I tell her following her out of the room, looking back at my boyfriend and his brother, feeling miserable. This might be the last time I ever see either one of them alive. I can feel the tears prick the back of my eyelids but I refuse to let them fall.

"Um. Oh."

"It's okay," I tell her. We walk toward the front door as we hear the door behind us shut and the lock engage.

Dean's P.O.V.

I regretfully watch Nic walk away with the doctor. I didn't want to send her away but this is for the best. There is no way in hell I could've killed her if she'd've been turned. It's gonna hurt like a bitch to have to do that to my baby brother. I shut the door and lock it. Turning to see Sam, who is crying.

"Wish we had a deck of cards, or a foosball table or something," i chuckle, trying to relieve the tension.

"Dean, don't do this. Just get the hell out of here," he tells me.

"No way," I say, shaking my head refusing his plea.

"Give me my gun, and leave. Go with Nic. Get that apple-pie life you deserve."

"For the last time, Sam. No."

Sam slams his fist on the table. "This is the dumbest thing you've ever done."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?" I tell him, shuddering.

"Dean, I'm sick. It's over for me. It doesn't have to be for you."

"No?"

"No, you can keep going."

"Who says I want to?"

"What? I know you do. You and Nic, you could get out. Have a long, happy life."

I cross to the other wall and pull the handgun out of my waistband before sitting on the file cabinet.

"I'm tired, Sam. I'm tired of this job, this life . . . this weight on my shoulders, man. I'm tired of it. Yea, me and Nic, we could try getting out of this life. But is there really an out? How many hunters do you know who live a decent, semi-normal life? There is always something out there."

"So what, so you're just going to give up? You're just gonna lay down and die? Look, Dean, I know this stuff with Dad has —"

"You're wrong. It's not about Dad. I mean, part of it is, sure, but . . . "

"What is it about then?"

There's a noise outside and then a knocking on the door. I pick up both handguns and go to it, opening it enough to peer out; Nic is standing there. I open the door fully. I can't believe she didn't leave; that she came back.

"You'd better come see this. "

Sam and I follow her through the clinic and step out into the night air; The other two are standing there looking around. Everything in sight is deathly silent.

"There's no one. Not anywhere. They've all just . . . vanished," Dr. Lee explains when she sees my questioning gaze.

We all marvel at the complete calm of a town that, just a few hours ago, was brimming with citizens affected by some demonic virus, causing them to turn on one another. I grab Nic's hand and pull her to me, so relieved that she's still here and for the time being, we are safe. The six of us share a confused look and return to the safe shelter of the clinic.

END DEAN'S .

A few hours later, Dr. Lee requests to check Sam again to see if the virus has progressed in his system. Sam sits on an examination table and allows her to draw a vial of blood.

She smears some of it onto a slide and attaches it to an unused microscope to view it.

"Well, it's been five hours and your blood's still clean. I don't understand it but I think you dodged a bullet."

"But I was exposed. How could I not be infected?" Sam asks curiously.

"I don't know. But you're just not. I mean, you compare it with the Tanner samples . . ." She looks through another microscope. "What the hell?" Dr. Lee, utters.

"What?" I ask as I walk up beside her.

"Their blood. There's no trace of the virus. No sulfur, nothing," she motions for me to take a look and I do, even though I have no idea what I'm looking at.

"He's going to be fine. No signs of infection," she tells me after I look through the lens at Sam's sample.

.
Dean looks over at Sam, perplexed.
"Hey man, don't look at me," Sam defends. "I got no clue."
"I swear, I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean, why here, why now? And where the hell did everybody go?"

"It's like they just friggin' melted," I concur, slightly shaking my head.
"Why was I immune?" Sam mumbled, but Dean being Dean and so in tune with his baby brother, heard.
"Yeah. You know what? That's a good question. You know, I'm already starting to feel like this is the one that got away?"

Duane, who has been huddled up in the corner with Mark speaks up, "Hey, the Sarge and I are getting the hell out of here, heading south. You should come, Doctor Lee."
"Nah,I'd better get over to Sidewinder, get the authorities up here," she says, declining the offer. She looks toward the three of us and shrugs. "If they'll believe me, that is."
We watch as Duane and Mark load up the pickup and get into the cab, Mark driving and Duane in the passenger seat. They wave and drive away.

Dean leans against the top of the Impala and looks over at the doctor. "You need an escort to Sidewinder?"

"No, I'll be fine. I make that trip monthly," she tells him with a smile.

Okay, see ya around."

"God, I hope not." she deadpans. I nod my head in understanding.

I climb into the backseat of the Impala while the brothers climb into their respective places in the front.

"I'm beat. Wake me up in a week," I tell them as I roll up my jacket and place it against the door. I stretch out across the bench seat and close my eyes. I'm out before we leave the town of Rivergrove.

SAM'S P.O.V.

Nic is snoozing in the backseat, Dean is silent behind the wheel. The whole car is quiet, except for the hum of the engine. I see Dean glance in the rearview a few times, checking on her. I know there is more to how he feels about her than he lets on. But I'm not going to bring it up. I haven't seen my older brother this content in so long that it's almost like a breath of fresh air and I don't want to destroy it. Dean has always had a tough time letting people in, other than me, and even then there are some things he just keeps bottled up inside. It's going to send him to an early grave if a monster doesn't first.

After an hour or two of our silent travels, Dean pulls onto the side of the road and turns and glances to the backseat before getting out and going to the trunk. He lifts out our old green cooler that I know he keeps filled with beer. I step out of the car, careful to not slam the door. The view is amazing. A lake lay alongside the road, with a wooden fence separating the two. I follow Dean to the front of the Impala where he sits the cooler and opens it. He hands me a bottle before grabbing one for himself.

"So. Last night. You want to tell me what the hell you were talking about?" I ask him after taking a drink.

"Don't you dare breathe a word of that to her. Or anyone, you hear me."

"Not that! I won't say a thing about that."

"Then what do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I mean you said you were tired of the job. And that it wasn't just because of Dad. "

"Forget it," he deflects.

"No, I can't. No way."

"Come on man, I thought we were both going to die, you can't hold that over me."

"No, no, no, no. You can't pull that crap with me, man. You're talking." I'm not letting this go that easy and he knows it.

"And what if I don't?"

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep asking until you do."

"I don't know, man. I just think maybe we ought to . . . go to the Grand Canyon. Or Vegas. I bet Nic would have no problem getting a job as a showgirl."

"What?" He has thrown me for a total loop!

"Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across country, you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to T.J. Or Hollywood, see if we can hook you up with Lindsey Lohan."

"You're not making any sense." I tell him, grimacing.

"I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit?"

"Why are you saying all this? Does this have to do with Nic?" I hold my breath, hoping I haven't pushed too far. And praying that he finally admits that it's more than just sex.

Dean shakes his head, turning away.

"No, no, no, no, Dean. You're my brother, all right? So whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit," I say, walking around to maintain eye contact.

"I can't. I promised," he tells me with a slight tremor in his voice.

"Who?" Who did he promise and what did he promise. Something tells me this has nothing to do with the girl asleep in the backseat.

"Dad."

"What are you talking about?" I asks, genuinely interested. What did the old man tell Dean that has him so torn up.

Dean looks down before speaking, "Right before Dad died, he told me something." He takes a breath, then looks at me. "He told me something about you."

"What? Dean, what did he tell you?"

"He said that he wanted me to watch out for you, to take care of you."

"He told you that a million times," I scoff, knowing that Dad had told him that almost everyday of our lives.

"No, this time was different. He said that I had to save you."

"Save me from what?"

"He just said that I had to save you, that nothing else mattered; and that if I couldn't, I'd . . . "

"You'd what, Dean?"

"That I'd have to kill you. He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy." Dean has tears adhered to his lashes.

"Kill me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I ask, shocked and confused.

"I don't know."

"I mean, he must have had some kind of reason for saying it, right? Did he know the demon's plans for me? Am I supposed to go Darkside or something? What else did he say, Dean?"

"Nothing, that's it, I swear."

"How could you not have told me this?"

"Because it was Dad, and he begged me not to."

"Who cares?! Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from me!"

"You think I wanted this? Huh? I wish to God he'd never opened his mouth. Then I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day."

I turn and take a few steps away, I'm fuming over what I've just found out.

"We've just got to figure out what's going on, then, what the hell all this means."

"We do? I've been thinking about this, I think we should just lay low. You know? At least for a while. It'd be safer. And that way I can make sure —"

"What? That I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer?"

"I never said that."

"Jeez, if you're not careful you will have to waste me one day, Dean."

"I never said that! Dammit, Sam, this whole thing is spinning out of control. All right? You're immune to some weirdo demon virus, and I don't even know what the hell anymore. And you're pissed at me, I get it. That's fine, I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?"

"Forget it. "

"Sam, please, man. Hey, please. Just give me some time. Give me some time to think, okay? I'm begging you here, please. Please."

I reluctantly nod. We're not going to get anywhere standing on the side of the road, arguing.

"Hey guys," Nic's voice rings through the air. Her head and torso are hanging out of the Impala's back window. "Can we get going? I'm starving! "

END SAM'S P.O.V.

While at a diner we decide to drop by my old house and rest. We are nearby and with funds being tight, a motel stay was out of the question. The emotional turmoil of this case has taken a lot out of each of us. I just want a hot shower and a comfy bed to relax. Thankfully, I had never disposed of my key so when we get there, I unlock the door with no trouble. Walking in, I sigh. So many treasured memories lie within these four walls. That night, Dean and I are in my old bedroom and Sam is camped out in another. Dad's room remains closed up, untouched.

The next morning, I wake up and head downstairs. Later when Dean wakes he joins me. We discuss going out to get breakfast since there isn't any food in the house. He goes upstairs to wake Sam only to return to tell me Sam is gone.