"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Scully confirmed. She held up the print out as proof, though most of it was in jargon and wouldn't have meant much to Mulder. It had been nearly 48 hours since they had arrived in town. The bloodwork she had sent off had been put through as a rush job, but so far everything had some back negative. There were a few more tests they were still running that would take longer, but the likelihood of any of those being relevant was slim.

48 hours in town and all they had was a whole lot of nothing.

Sharron Howard had been under surveillance ever since her visit from the Winchesters, but other than the salt around her house, there hadn't been any sign that the brothers had any interest in her. In fact, they hadn't seen the brothers at all – something that alarmed Scully immensely. This plan of Mulder's to use the Winchester brothers to find out what was really happening in the town of Malone was dependent on the brothers being innocent and leading them to the real killer. If they'd left town, neither was very likely.

But Mulder was committed, the way he always was when some idea got stuck in his head. He'd spent most of the time they had been waiting going through what he affectionately called lore. Most of it seemed dependent on fairytales of one form or another, including a heavy dose of Christian superstition. Scully hadn't had this many conversations about the heavenly bodies and damned souls since her catholic school days. Except even then the nuns had treated it more as a philosophical belief than hard fact. But Mulder never did anything by halves and had started more than one debate about the practical elements of satanic practices – and, of course, about salt.

Scully had heard more about salt, salt lines and protective circles than she had ever thought was possible.

But even that shiny new toy could only keep Mulder occupied for so long. Research was all well and good, but they were in the middle of a case and they had hoped for a new lead by now. The lack left both of them on edge.

Mulder slouched over in his chair and dropped his head onto his folded arms. "So much for that."

"You thought we'd find something?" she replied, somewhat surprised.

Mulder shrugged without raising his head. His voice was muffled but she was able to make out the words. "It was either that or demonic interference." He raised his head enough to give her a wry grin well aware of what she thought of the Winchesters' beliefs. "I'm kidding. Mostly. But it would have been a good start to figuring out what's really happening. I'm still not ruling out drugs or some other kind of chemical interference. We might just not have a proper test for it if it's an unknown chemical that's affect these people."

Scully rolled her eyes. "Despite what you may think, Mulder, creating a compound complex enough to achieve the kind of results we're talking about would be extremely difficult. Doing so without leaving a trace would be all but impossible."

"We do the impossible ever day!" he replied in a burst of cheer that was short lived. Neither of them felt very impossible lately. Mostly they'd been stuck going over the same information time and time again.

"Think the Winchester's are having better luck than we are?" Mulder asked suddenly.

"Think they're still in town?" Scully shot back but then sighed. "We'd have a much better idea of what they were doing if we told the Sheriff to keep an eye out for them."

Mulder was already shaking his head no. "We do that and we'll have to tell him why and who they are. And even if we didn't, they're in the system enough he might make the connection."

"Alright. But how do we find them?"

Mulder dug in his pocket and pulled out his new temporary phone. He had his old number programed into it and once more hit call. He'd tried calling it over and over again, just about every time he came up for air from his binge researching. It was a ridiculously slim chance but he couldn't seem to help himself from grasping after it.

And damn it if Scully didn't hold her breath for just a second, waiting to see if it would ring or go straight to voicemail.

"Shit," Mulder muttered, ending the call and dropping his head down once more.

This wasn't getting them anywhere. They might as well take a break. Maybe get some food and some rest before picking it up again. Sometimes a little distance helped. It was certainly the more healthy way of dealing with their job. But before she could start that argument with Mulder, his phone suddenly rang.

He sat up like an electric shock had traveled through it to him. He had given the number to very few people. The only other people who might have it would be anyone with caller ID that he had tried to contact.

He snatched it back up. "Hello?" he demanded. His face was open and clearly hopeful. Then he deflated, slumping down in his seat with a frown. "Yes?" he replied dully. "What can I do for you, Sheriff?"

That had Scully's attention even if Mulder still looked put out that it wasn't his favorite wanted felons. But whatever the Sheriff said next must have been as interesting because Mulder jolted in his seat once more, his face professionally blank but his body tense.

"Yes…Yes…We'll be there right away," he said before hanging up suddenly. He didn't ask any questions and Mulder always had questions. That was how Scully knew it wasn't going to be good.

He was already up and moving, grabbing his coat and checking that he had all of his equipment – including his gun. Scully followed suit seamlessly, knowing the importance of time and a quick reaction. They were already moving out of their temporary office before he filled her in.

"We've got another body."

Scully flinched but kept up with Mulder's ground eating stride. That was not the new lead she had been hoping for.

"Family called us about two hours ago," the Sheriff explained. He was standing by the abandoned car, a notebook in hand even though he didn't look at it as he gave his report. Small versions of floodlights had already been set up, angled like a spot light on the vehicle. The car was mostly off the road, hanging on the edge of the shoulder. The road flares were still burning on the other side as another officer stood ready to direct any possible cars around the scene. It wasn't a busy road by any stretch of the imagination, but there were so few in this region that each one was too important to close entirely.

Scully was crouched down by the open driver's side door examining the body still seated at the wheel. She had switched out her regular gloves for clinical ones as she careful checked different parts of the body for information.

Mulder, knowing where he could help and where he couldn't, hung back by the Sheriff. "Two hours ago?" he demanded. Two hours was a long time. They might have been able to help if they had known. He didn't know how they would have helped, but he hated being the last to know something was happening.

The Sheriff didn't get defensive even though Mulder knew his tone had to have been sharp, and if you listened to Scully, probably condescending. "We've had four reports of 'missing' people today alone," the Sheriff replied. "One was at work, where he was supposed to be. One had a flat tire, which my man assisted with before sending him home and the last had gone to the grocery store without telling her husband. Word has gotten out, Agent Mulder, and I have a town of very worried people. We've been following up each call as soon as reasonably possible."

Mulder managed to bite his tongue enough not to point out the failure there and the hefty price that came with it. There would be plenty of time for that later.

"What did the family say?" he asked instead.

"Mr. Nelson came home from work on time, spoke with his wife, changed clothes and took the dog with him to go pick up their eldest daughter from a friend's house. All normal for the family. He left home at about 1800, maybe a little bit before. At 1900 the daughter called home. Mr. Nelson still hadn't arrived and wasn't answering his phone. The wife called us not long after that. She's waiting on us to contact her back." The Sheriff managed to keep his tone carefully controlled right up until the end of his report. He wasn't new to the job and had a decent grip on how to compartmentalize under pressure. Mulder could appreciate that and hoped it held up as things progressed. Because things were certainly bound to get worse.

"Where's the dog?"

The Sheriff's face didn't change. "Trunk."

The night wasn't quiet by any means, there was the sound of idling police cars and quiet voices and rustling trees, but there was no noise from the trunk.

"Right. Let's take a look at that," Mulder replied. Scully had the human remains in her expert care. He might as well take a look at their lupine evidence. The trunk was already popped, but someone had gently lowered the lid back down till it was bobbing just above the latch. Mulder didn't bother changing his gloves before nudging it back up, the movement kicking on the light. Mr. Nelson had owned what looked like a Labrador. The dog's neck was clearly broken, lying oddly so that the half lidded eyes faced up. There was no other sign of trauma. The animal's leash was still connect to its collar, bright red and tangled carelessly with the rest of the body. There was no other sign of violence but also no care given to how the dog had been loaded.

Mulder lowered the trunk back down to its resting spot and moved over to hover by Scully's shoulder. "Dead dog in the trunk. Broken neck."

Scully's hands didn't even pause. She was busy gently checking Mr. Nelson's hands and wrists, manipulating the fabric of his jacket enough to get a clear view. "Our vic was killed in a similar manner." The head was drooped forward as if the man had simply drifted off. But he took her word on it. "No other signs of trauma. Seatbelt is in place and doesn't look disturbed or twisted in any way. Hands are clean, both were resting palms up in his lap. But Mulder," she broke off, her voice quiet enough that he had to lean in towards the car. "Look at his feet. His right foot is still on the brake, his left on the clutch. They didn't even slide off to the side."

Mulder looked at the body, trying to read as much as he could from the slumped shoulders and lax face. "So it happened fast."

"Fast and clean."

Mulder moved to the back door and peered inside. The back seat was covered in books, papers, plastic shopping bags, one pink sweater and what looked like a lacrosse stick. There was a clear space on the other side, the foot-well over there covered in a layer of dried mud and salt from melted snow and what looked like a pair of children's galoshes. But there was barely enough space in the back for a small child, and even then only on the far side. "No one sat behind him," Mulder told her.

"Next to him would have caused more of a disturbance."

Mulder nodded, walking around the car slowly hoping for something else out of place to catch his attention. "It doesn't match the previous body."

"No," Scully agreed easily. "But then again, we do have a suspect known for changing his method," she added as she stood up, apparently done with examining Mr. Nelson. Their eyes met over the car and neither of them were happy. Mulder hoped he made it quite clear with his silent look that he didn't appreciate her dragging out such theories in front of outsiders and that he certainly did not agree that that was a valid explanation of the situation and couldn't she try to have a little more faith? Scully's own narrow-eyed expression was certainly very clear that she thought he was reckless and being foolish and she was not going to follow along blindly if she thought it violated her ethics.

Neither of them said a word however and she moved to the back to have a look at the animal.

It was too much to hope that the Sheriff might have been distracted elsewhere and not noticed their little exchange.

"There's a suspect?" he demanded, suddenly not sounding as mild mannered and calmly detached as he had a moment before.

Mulder scrambled. He couldn't say definitively that it wasn't the Winchesters, but he knew they had reasonable doubt, and he did not want to be sic'ing the local law on the brothers before he had his answers. "Not a suspect so much as a profile," he demurred. "There are certain elements that are indicative of previous cases we have seen where the suspect believed there to be…unworldly elements at play." He was not going to say the word satanic. Not to a small town Sheriff. It would be tantamount to starting a panic.

"Mulder!"

Saved by Scully. He turned away quickly and rejoined her by the back of the car. She had two fingers in the dog's mouth and seemed to be having some difficulty getting its upper lip to raise. "Look at this, Mulder," she told him. "Rigor is already setting in."

Mulder wasn't an expert, but he could follow the basics. "Mr. Nelson's only been missing for about three to four hours."

"Which meant the dog would have had to have been killed almost immediately after leaving the house."

"Well, that helps establish a timeline."

"No, it doesn't," she disagreed.

"Oh?" Mulder couldn't help but smile a bit. When Scully said the science didn't make snese that usually meant they were on to something. "What's the issue?"

"Mulder, Mr. Nelson's only been dead for a little over an hour, two tops. This dog was killed much earlier than that. Why would a victim have his dead dog in the trunk? And then drive around for another couple of hours before calmly letting himself be killed on the side of the road?"

"Maybe he didn't know the dog was in there."

Scully scowled. "And just where did he think the dog was, Mulder? You don't just misplace an animal this size the way you do an errant glove. He would have noticed it missing."

"Okay," Mulder agreed, sort of enjoying being the straight man for this conversation. "What if he was looking for it? It got loose or something?"

"On the other side of town from where he started? This isn't a city subdivision. We're talking about serious terrain between here and there."

Mulder shrugged. "Okay, I've got nothing."

Scully straightened up, suddenly done with her examination. She stared off into the darkness on the other side of the road as she mentally reviewed her findings. Mulder waited, as patiently as he could, for her to hurry up and share her final conclusions.

"Mulder. This is the second body-"

"Third if you count the dog!'

"- the second body," she repeated, "with no sign of resistance or struggle or even alarm. Despite the violence of the attacks and the clear indications that the victims should have been in distress prior to being killed." She finally paused to look over at him. "This body is fresher and we can get lab samples sent right away, but somehow, Mulder, I suspect they will also come back negative."

Mulder managed a strained smile. "It is a weird one."

Scully glanced over at the Sheriff. He was watching them closely, but at least hadn't been rude enough to obviously hover. "Mulder, I think you know where my thoughts are on this one. It was one thing to wait and see when we thought we had this contained to one possible victim. We have to be practical about this. Another man is dead and there's a good chance we know who's responsible."

"Scully, we don't know anything!"

"Exactly! We don't know anything and hence have to treat everything as suspect!"

Mulder stepped in closer, angling his body to try to keep this conversation as private as possible. "If you tell the Sheriff that you think the Winchesters did this and we'll have a manhunt on our hands in minutes. And not the kind inclined to use caution. You heard the Sheriff, people are scared. We've seen what happens with things like this. If they aren't guilty, if they are in fact trying to help, and we get them shot or worse…"

"We can't stand by and do nothing, Mulder. You don't know where they are or what they've been up to in the last 48 hours."

"Let me try calling again," Mulder argued, digging into his coat pocket for his phone.

Scully sighed loudly. Pointedly. "That's not going to do any good, Mulder. They aren't-"

The phone started ringing suddenly and they both stopped. Mulder finished pulling it out and looked at the display. It was a number he already had programed in. MY OLD PHONE – PICK UP. The caps had been entirely necessary and he was careful not to fumble with the phone as he answered it. "Hello?" he said cautiously, trying to keep his tone level as he and Scully stared at each other.

There was a pause, then a rough voice. "Hello?"

"Who is this?" Mulder prompted, even though he knew the answer. He recognized the voice.

"Who the hell is this?" was the demand back and Mulder couldn't help it, he grinned a bit.

"You called me, Dean," he answered.

"Fox Mulder, right?" was the grumbled response. "And hey, I didn't say it was me."

Mulder pause for a moment to let that sink in. "You're surprisingly bad at this."

"Shuddup," he snapped back before grumbling a muffled 'smartass.' "Look, we've, um, we've got a problem."

Mulder raised his eyebrows. "And you called me? With my phone, might I point out."

"I'm borrowing. I was going to see if your partner's number was in here, but wouldn't ya know, I turn the thing on and there's a couple dozen missed calls from the same number. I fgured it must be you. So, yeah. I'm callin' back. Look, were you serious? I mean about the wanted to help out bit. 'Cause if that was just some psycho-babble bullshit I've got better things to waste my time on. This case is turning into a real shitstorm."

"That's one way of putting it." Mulder watched Scully closely as he asked, "Dean, where were you over the last five hours?"

"Huh?"

"It's a simple question."

"I'm not tellin' ya where we're at. Do I look stupid? You're still a fuckin' Fed."

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you. I hadn't noticed. I didn't ask where you are now currently, I asked where were you over the last five hours? I want details, Dean. Then we can talk."

'Well, fuck. I dunno. We've been driving from one end of this damn town to another. Um, a place called Wellington's. A gas station. A neighborhood over by the middle school. We sat in the parking lot at K-Mart for a while. What the hell does it matter?"

"How about further south?"

"Route 30?" Dean answered. It was the main road leading due south and quite a bit west from where their crime scene was.

"How about Teboville road?"

"TVville road? Really? They got a road named that here? Well, damn. We saw a TV road in a Fredericksburg one time. Sam, which state was that?" The last part was muffled again and Mulder was able to make out another voice replying sharply. At least that confirmed that the two of them were together.

"Dean," Mulder said sharply. "I'm standing by a dead body on Teboville road and I need to give my partner one damn good reason why you aren't the one who put it here."

"Goddamn mother fucking shit! Sam, the sonofabitch's on the move. South, near – what road?" The last part was the only part directed to Mulder. There was the sound of rustling in the background and something loudly banging into something else.

"Te-bo-ville."

"Who?"

Scully was starting to look a little murderous herself and Mulder flashed her a quick smile. "Now, Dean, you know I can't give that kind of information out over the phone. Why don't we-"

"I've got a list of about twenty people, shithead. I need to know if this one's on it or if we missed somebody."

Mulder stopped smiling, reaching out to nudge Scully's shoulder carefully. "What list?" he asked. Scully's eyes widened and they both held perfectly still.

"Damn it, the one Sam and I have been trying to put together. Whatever happened to Haymond and Howard, it's been happening to other people. LOTS of other people. We just can't figure out how the hell it's been happening. They ain't got nothing in common, or a couple of them do but not the rest. At least four of them have time missing that we know of and another couple wouldn't know the difference if they did or not. So I'm assuming there's a fucking pattern. Now what's the name?"

Mulder held the phone away from his face and kept his voice low, very aware of how easy it was to overhear on the other end of the line. "Scully, they think they've found a connection. He's panicked."

She frowned but kept any snarky comments to herself. "How panicked?"

Mulder considered the question. "Not frightened panicked. Angry. Frustrated?"

She deliberated over that. Fear told you a lot about a person. What they valued. What made them feel weak and out of control. What stressed them. It was probably the most honest reaction they were likely to get.

"Oi! You there?" the tinny voice from the phone complained, but Mulder was waiting. He knew the choice he wanted to make but he wanted Scully on board as well. She was always the one he needed to convince first before he had any hope of convincing anyone else.

Finally she nodded, firmly, a decision reached and without hesitation.

"Nelson."

Dean cut off sharply at the name. The phone was quite for a moment, no sound of rustling or of Sam in the background. "The husband or the wife?" Dean finally asked.

Damn it. That was not the answer Mulder wanted. "Husband," he admitted, wanting to know what Dean would say next.

"Get somebody over the wife's. More than one somebody. Don't leave her alone with any one person, even someone trusted."

Mulder covered the phone. "Get the Sheriff, make sure more than one person is with her at all times. Suspect might be a cop or someone else she'd trust."

Scully, bless her, just nodded and swiftly moved away. She'd have the Sheriff in hand and moving on it in no time.

"Dean, where are you?"

"Doesn't matter," was the sharp reply.

"People are dying, Dean. I need to know why. I need to know how to stop it," he said, then added on "you called me, remember?"

"Fuck. Right. Um. That list?" he asked, sounding almost hesitant behind the gruffness. "You FBI types got some magic way of figurin' out if a group of people have anything in common?"

"Yes, Dean, we FBI types have magic like that. It's called records. It mostly involves a bunch of computer geeks and long hours."

"Whatever. I give you list, you figure out where they've been or who they've all met or something. Because we've got a lot of them, but none of them are new, ya know? Whatever happened initially has already happened. Nobody's pinging on the old radar that didn't before. So the opening act of this little shitshow happened before we got here. If we figure out what happened then, maybe we can find the bastard now."

"You still haven't told me what they all do have in common. What do you mean pinging? Why them?"

Dean huffed. "Trust me, you don't wanna know."

"We've had this conversation before, Dean."

"Yeah, and I punched ya," was the cheeky response, not at all apologetic.

"And I listened," Mulder replied. Sure, he thought Dean was nuts – or at the very least greatly misguided – but he had listened. He was trying to understand. It was probably more than the Winchester brothers would ever get.

Dean seemed to think about it for a moment since he didn't hang up but didn't say anything either. Finally he replied, "word is you're nuttier than a fruit cake, Agent Mulder."

And that had him grinning broadly, something that was maybe very out of place at a crime scene and with an unknown threat hanging over their heads. "But you have heard of me."

Surprisingly, he got the laugh he had been looking for. It was an unexpected bonus. Dean didn't seem like the kind of guy who laughed frequently and Mulder had to wonder what that said about either the quality of their rapport or the questionability of Mulder's sense of humor.

"Granted," Dean announced magnanimously. "How about this for now, ya basket case. Somehow, each of these people was…dosed with something. Something weird as fuck."

"Something that would cause memory loss?" Mulder asked quickly. He started waving at Scully. They had to get that blood sample and they had to get it now. In duplicate. And maybe use more than one lab.

But Dean snorted. "I doubt it. No, we're pretty sure that's from somethin' else. Fuckin' demons," Dean muttered grumpily. "No, this is something bigger and more fucked up than usual. We haven't figured out what their end game is yet, but they've got a large chunk of this town contaminate for some reason, and I'm guessin' it's not a good one.

Which made about as much sense as anything else in this conversation. "Where do you want to meet?" Mulder asked instead. Dean had given him some clues and they could start there. The secret was figuring out what was useful in the rambling theories and curse words. Demons and contamination seemed to be a common thread, and it would fit some of the more alarmists texts he had been reading.

"Meet? What the hell? No way, man. We're emailing this shit to you. Sammy can set up a nice burner account and everything."

"Dean, that's not enough and you know it. If we're going to stop this, we can't waste time chasing each other. What if someone else gets killed in the mean time?" And yes, Mulder was very well aware that this was Scully's own argument he was regurgitating. But hey, it was a good one. Very effective.

"I figure we've got about 24 hours, give or take."

And really, it was times like this that even Mulder started to question the Winchester's involvement. "And how do you know that?" he asked quietly.

Dean's voice was suddenly very smug. "Pat Bates doesn't remember anything from after work to the next morning the day after Howard walked out of work. That puts Haymond, Howard and Bates all about 24 hours apart. That leaves a gap of yesterday, but then we've got Nelson today. How long was he missing? Long enough to have missed a few hours? Anybody talk to him during that time? 'Cause I betcha he was acting aggressive and peculiar. Like he was a different person. And I bet you, if he had lived, he wouldn't have remembered a damn thing."

"How do you know this, Dean?" It didn't matter if it was true. Dean believed it was. And it was very detailed and specific. Exactly the kind of arbitrary pattern people had been looking for in the Winchester case for years. A method to the madness that had seemed too random to be legitimate.

"Seen it," Dean grunted. "Way too much. And with what these people have been drinkin', there's only one kind of source." Suddenly he laughed. "Think invasion of the body snatchers, Mr. Fed. Close enough to the truth."

"You're really annoying," Mulder complained. He had more questions now, not less.

Dean laughed lightly. "I'm good at that. You find us a connection. Then we'll talk," he declared before hanging up.