A.N. (Sorry about the short intro with Duane. I just had a random writer's block with how to deal with him. I'm not too happy with this chapter but…it's not the worst…so…)

Dean's POV

-000-

Be back in thirty.

(I'm searching for my lemonade)

(P.s. And for the people of the town.)

(P.P.S. Don't get me wrong. My lemonade is more important.)

-000-

It's been well over thirty minutes. It's now been an hour and twelve minutes.

"Where the hell is she?" I growl out, pacing back and forth. I had time to go to the edge of town, get ambushed by crazies with guns, pick up Mark, and make it back to town. And she's not here yet. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

"She'll be fine. She knows how to handle herself." Sam says. I think it was more to reassure himself then me. It's not working for either of us. Mark looks up from Jake's mothers' dead body and observes us.

"Who's 'she'?" Sam and I share a look.

Should we tell him?

It can't hurt. Sam nods slightly and he decides to fill the others in on Samantha.

"She's our surrogate sister. She left when we were helping…Beverly. Left a note saying she'll be back in thirty minutes and it's been over an hour." Mark frowns and gives us sympathetic look.

"Aren't you Marshal's? Why's your sister with you?"

"Personal reasons." Sam rolls his eyes at my excuse. Like you could do any better. Mark nods hesitantly.

"Look I'm sorry to say this, but they probably got her. These people don't have any morals anymore, they wouldn't hesitate to kill a young girl." I slam my hand on the counter, giving Mark my best 'shut the hell up or I will kill you' glare.

"Dammit! No. She's smart. As soon as she saw what's going on she would've had a plan. Whether it be to come back to us or to hide somewhere until we find her. She's smart. So she's fine. She's fine and she's coming back." And I desperately wish I could believe my own words. I wish I knew for a fact that she's not suicidal and that she wouldn't let herself get killed.

Mark just shrugs and goes back to the doctor's office. Sam looks at me.

"I'm going to look for her." He holds his hands out for the Impala's keys. I shake my head.

"She's fine. She wouldn't want you to risk yourself for her." I can't lose you too.

"I'm not leaving her out there to fight against a demonic virus by herself!" Sam shouts, pointing towards the windows.

"She will be fi-" A quick knock sounds on the front door. One knock, then silence for a few seconds before two knocks. It's Samantha. Sam and I all but run to the door. I unlock it hastily and get ready to lecture Samantha on how important it is to check in or how lemonade isn't as important as her life.

When the door swings open, I hurriedly bring her in and slam the door behind her. I look worriedly to Sam when I see her red puffy eyes, tear tracks on her face, but most worryingly blood covering her torso.

"What the hell happened?" I mumble to her, aware of the others still in the office. Sam comes up beside me after he locked the door back up. Samantha glances worriedly between us, a conflict in her eyes.

"I…I got attacked. Woman came up behind me. I got a few hits in but she had like super human strength." Her voice cracks. I feel bile rise in my throat at what she's about to say.

"She pinned me against the wall, cut me open and mixed our bloods. Then she ran away. And after that I met a guy. Told me it was a virus of some kind." She closes her eyes for a few seconds then seems to gather the strength to continue. "We were running from a few of those things when I got tackled from the side. The guy shoved me away from the thing and jumped in front of me." She stops finally, tears running freely down her face now.

"Oh god." Sam chokes out. He turns his misty eyes to mine. What do we do? His silent question almost makes me break down. And then the guilt settles in. I could've stopped her. Went after her as soon as I found the letter, told her that it's too dangerous.

"He didn't die." Samantha is now meeting my eyes, her eyes showing how completely wrecked she is. "Not right away, I mean. There were about five of them that were following us. And then the one who tackled me. Four of them went after him, I killed the other two. The four cornering him were…they were just cutting him up with glass. One of them even bit him, tore right through his muscle." I flinch and turn away, trying not to imagine that imagery.

"Together we got them off of him. Killed them. Then he told me to kill him, he was past saving. He said that it wouldn't be honorable to kill himself. I shot him. Then ran here." Somewhere in explaining what happened, her voice became cold, unattached. But we can't worry about her emotional distress right now, she could very well turn any second. But this is Samantha. So she won't turn. She'll be fine. So instead I grab her shoulder and make sure to look her in the eyes, let her know this is extremely important.

I drag her to the corner, Sam behind me.

"Listen to me. You don't mention this to anyone else. Not anyone. You stay sitting in that chair and you remain quiet. You speak when spoken to. You deny that you are infected." I know my tone is rougher than I mean it to be. But I don't care. She's not dying today.

She nods and pushes past us, sitting herself in the green waiting chair. I remain standing where I am for a moment. Pushing past the guilt and the worry. Nobody else is dying. Nobody else is going to be infected today.

-000-

Samantha's POV

"Who are you?" The dark skinned guy from earlier asks from his position of looking out the window. Where the townspeople, infected townspeople, mysteriously appeared and are now watching us.

"Samantha." I reply shortly. Mark, I learned his name was, looks towards me with skeptical eyes.

"Those boys' sister?" I nod in response.

"When'd you get here?" I clench my jaw at his questioning.

"Like twenty minutes ago." He looks annoyed at the prospect that he didn't know I was here.

"Are you infected?" 'Listen to me. You don't mention this to anyone else. Not anyone. You stay sitting in that chair and you remain quiet. You speak when spoken to. You deny that you are infected'

"Do you think I would be here if I were?" Liar. Liar. Liar. He looks at me in doubt.

"I don't know. Would you?" I drop my gaze to the ground, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

"I wouldn't put them in danger." Except I am.

"Uh huh." He still sounds skeptical. I'm sorry. Mark turns away and goes back to the office. After a few beats of nothing I hear everyone talking in the back room,' We can't stay here. We've gotta get out of here, get to the Roadhouse? Somewhere. Let people know what's coming', and Mark talking about how good people are at shooting down here. Then Sam gets the idea of making explosives. Wicked.

I almost shit myself when loud banging noises come from the door. A few seconds of the same rhythm of banging and I realize it's someone knocking.

"Dean!" I shout and he sprints in the room so fast I can't help but wonder if he was a track star in high school.

"Someone's at the door." Sam comes out behind him and looks towards the door.

"Hey! Let me in, let me in! Please!" A voice yells from outside and Mark comes back into the front room.

"That's Duane Tanner." Mark pushes past the boys and unlocks the door, letting Duane in.

"Thank god." Duane mutters as he walks in through he door, Mark closing and locking the door behind him. I squint my eyes at his leg when I notice he's limping.

"Duane, you okay?" Mark notices too. Dean and Sam move closer to me.

"That's the guy that I, uh," Dean asks, finishing with a click of his tongue to imitate a gun sound.

"Yeah." Sam mutters. Dean glances towards me. I avert my eyes to the ground.

-000-

I wince when Dean pulls his gun out.

"Sit down!" Duane jumps when the gun is pointed at him. Duane is tied down. I don't focus back on the conversation until,

"It took three hours for the virus to incubate. The sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so . . . no, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane turns." My head jumps up to meet Dean's eyes. He's looking at me too. I add up the time. Just over two hours. Oh god. One hour to live. I have to talk to them. Sam pulls Dean out of the room. I follow after a few minutes. I walk in to a fight.

"What the hell's happened to you?" Sam asks, exasperated. Dean looking at him in annoyance, and worry.

"What?" I look down. Dean's voice is harsh and I don't want that to be my last memory of him. Harsh.

"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." I suck in a surprised breath. Dean's going to kill him? I see the moment Dean shuts himself off, but I catch a glance of sadness for a split second.

"Mm-hmm." Dean shoves Sam back and I move away from the doorframe, ready to stop him. Sam goes to stop him again but Dean grabs him and hurls him into the corner. I gasp and try to grab Dean but he pushes me out of the way too. Despite knowing that Dean is just trying to look out for us, I can't help but be hurt by it. I jump up, ignoring the dizziness, and go to catch the door as he closes it but it shuts in my face. And locks.

"Dean! Don't do this!" I scream and pound on the door but he doesn't come back. And after a few minutes of screaming and pounding on the door, Sam and I slide down the wall. I take the chance to talk.

"Sam?" He looks over to me tiredly but I keep staring at the closed windows.

"Yeah?" I hesitate.

"You're…you guys are going to be okay, right? Without me. You'll be fine, right?" He clenches his jaw, but I notice his eyes glistening.

"You're not dy-"

"Yes. I am. I'm not special. I just want to know that you guys will be okay. Because if not I can make you hate me. I'll talk crap about Dean or something, make you hate me." I try to joke. But I can't. So in the end I sound serious, because I am serious.

"Don't say that. We couldn't hate you. So just stop." I sniffle, looking towards Sam. He's still looking at me.

"Just tell me you'll be okay." He nods. No verbal response. Just a nod. I bang my head against the door, remembering when Dean shoved me away.

-000-

Two hours, thirty eight minutes.

I help Sam and Dean make explosives. Molotov's actually. With glass bottles, alcohol in the bottle and the rag soaked in it too. I'm pretty certain being around this much medical alcohol can like make you high or something.

"It's been over four hours. Duane's blood is still clean. I don't think he's infected. I'd like to untie him, if that's all right." Dr. Lee walks into the room and I see Sam nod, Dean lowers his head. Dr. Lee leaves the room and we go back to work.

"You know I'm gonna ask you why." Sam speaks up. I look towards Dean then look away again when my bottle of alcohol runs out.

"Yeah, I know." Dean sighs. I check the other bottles and see them empty too.

"So why? Why didn't you do it?" Sam now just stops working on the Molotov's. Dean doesn't. I look towards the brother's now, wondering why too.

"We need more alcohol." Dean redirects the conversation. Sam sighs before getting up and walking into the doctor's room.

"So, the last hour of my life and I'm making explosives. Wouldn't have it any other way." Dean glares at me for joking around.

"Why do you keep saying that? You're not going to die. Stop joking about it." He whispers so only I can hear him.

"Sorry. It's how I cope." I look up towards the doctor's room to see what's taking Sam s long.

"Dean!" I shout then run towards the closed door. Dean and Mark jump up, arming themselves with guns before they run over to the door.

"It's not budging!" A panicked is what fills the room before Dean kicks the door down and immediately shoots Pam three times in the back. She convulse for a second then falls to the ground. That's when I notice Sam holding his chest, red coloring the edges of his shirt. No.

Don't say anything. Maybe they won't notice.

"She bled on him. He's got the virus." Mark pops my bubble of hope. Dean looks at Sam from Pam, his hope quickly dying out too. Oh my god. Dean stands in the same place, shocked, so I quickly walk towards Sam and take his hand, helping him up.

"He's infected. We need to put him down." I turn my lethal glare towards Mark.

"You breathe the wrong way in his direction and I swear to god I will end you." I help Sam to the doctor's stool and try to calm down my nerves. I met my brother's family. I saved a few people. Got tortured. Life was okay. For the last few weeks…

"Let's cover that up…" I say softly, sounding like a concerned mom caring for her toddler. Nobody moves to help so I shake my head and search the cabinets for bandages. I find them under the sink. Weird place. I unwrap it and move back towards Sam. Before I place it on though, I check the wound. There's blood smeared on his chest. Too dry to be his own. I shudder. Then move on.

Grabbing a cotton ball from the counter, I soak it in the alcohol Sam was going to get then wipe around the wound before cleaning the cut. He hisses. I apologize.

"You'll be fine, Sam." I mutter. I pretend to not notice the tears in his eyes. I throw the cotton ball near the trash can and gently place the gauze bandage over the cut. I step back, glaring at everyone. They're surrounding him. Not moving a fucking finger to help him. Dean finally breaks out of trance. Instead he paces angrily.

"Doc, check his wound again, would you?" Dean asks. Again? Um, excuse me. I helped him, none of you bastards did. Dr. Lee doesn't move. "Doctor!" Dean yells. I wipe my face and see Sam still holding his chest in pain. Ice pack. I go towards the small see through fridge, full of medical supplies, and grab an ice pack. Sam thanks me with a nod and holds it to his chest.

"What's she need to examine him for? You saw what happened." Mark retorts. My lip twitches. I desperately want to scream at him. To hit him. But for some reason I turned into a concerned parent. So I don't do it, for Sam. I hover near him.

"Did her blood actually enter your wound?" Dr. Lee finally begins to act like a doctor again.

"Come on! Of course it did." I look away. Sam and Samantha infected. Is Sam a name for bad luck or something?

"We don't know for sure." Yes, we do. I don't tell Dean.

"You know what we have to do." Mark reaches for his gun.

"Nobody is shooting my brother."

"You try and I shoot you!" Dean and mine shouts intertwine as one.

"He isn't gonna be your brother much longer. You said it yourself." Mark completely ignores me. When did Dean say that?

"Nobody is shooting anyone!" Duane turns red at Dean's outburst.

"You were going to shoot me!" I turn on him.

"You don't shut your pie-hole, he still might!" Sam touches my arm gently.

"They're right. I'm infected; just give me the gun and I'll do it myself." I don't feel the tear falling down my cheek.

"No!"

"Forget it." I don't realize that I've passed three hours. I don't realize that I haven't turned yet.

"Dean, Samantha, I'm not gonna become one of those things." I feel it then. I feel the loss. Sam's going to die. Sam, 22 year old, wanna be lawyer, little brother of Dean Winchester, Sam, is going to die. My lip trembles. I don't wipe the tears falling down my face.

"Sam, we've still got some time." I nod, agreeing with Dean. We don't take the time to think about my overdue time.

"Time for what? Look, I understand he's your brother, and I'm sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of this." Mark reaches for his handgun again, I move directly in front of 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?!" Dean all but screams.

"Then what are we supposed to do?!" Mark yells back. I stay in front of Sam, looking blankly at the ground.

I hear keys jingle as they're thrown. We're staying here.

"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." Good.

"What about you and Samantha?" A pause. Dean doesn't answer so I do.

"You think we would leave our brother?" My voice isn't harsh. It's weak and so quiet I'm surprised when Mark shakes his head.

"You're crazy." I shrug. Probably.

"No. No. Go with them. This is your only chance!" I shake my head, hopping on the hospital stool next to him. Letting him know I'm not leaving.

"You're not gonna get rid of me that easy." I can practically feel Dean's false confidence from here.

"No, he's right. Come with us." Mark tries once more, I can't help but notice how Duane isn't even trying to get us to come along. I mean it is our, Dean's, car they're taking. "Okay, it's your funeral." I ignore that last remark as Dean leads everyone outside. I glace at Sam. To only feel another wave of pain wash over me when I see he's crying.

"Wish we had a deck of cards, or a foosball table or something." I decide to play along with Dean, maybe distract Sam.

"Or 'High School Musical'. You guys would've loved it." Dean rolls his eyes.

"Dean, don't do this. Just get the hell out of here." I look at the clock. Thirteen minutes that Sam has been infected.

"No way." I feel pain for Dean the most. He lost his dad. He's about to lose Sam. He's about to lose his friend. I know how he is. Even though I've known him less than anyone here, I know Dean can't stand to be alone. The way he doesn't sleep in his room at Bobby's when Sam and I are reading books downstairs. How he always offers to being me along on food runs. The only time he'll willingly be alone is when he's hunting. And that scares me.

"Give me my gun, and leave." Sam replies through gritted teeth.

"For the last time, Sam, no." I jump when Sam slams the ice pack on the ground. Hey! I worked hard for that….no I didn't.

"This is the dumbest thing you've ever done." I shudder at the raw emotion in his voice. Dean fakes a shudder at his next joking remark.

"Oh, I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?" His voice is forced cheerful.

"Dean, we're sick. It's over for us. It doesn't have to be for you." Keeping the hope alive, right?

"No?" Dean doubtful voice kills me. I wish we never even set foot in this town.

"No, you can keep going."

"Who says I want to?" And with that one statement, my world changes. The way he jokes around, the way he can't look at himself in the mirror, even when we meet each other in the kitchen at 4 in the morning because 'we couldn't sleep'. I knew what was going on. Because he's me. It's the way I acted the weeks before I took the pills.

"What?" Sam and I both ask, heartbroken, at the same time. Dean crosses the room breaking eye contact as he sits on the desk, taking the gun out of waistband. I look on scared at what he's doing before realizing how uncomfortable that is to sit with a gun digging into your back.

"I'm tired, Sam. I'm tired of this job, this life . . . this weight on my shoulders, man. I'm tired of it." Tired. That's one way to describe your depression. That was always my excuse 'What's wrong?' 'Nothing. Just tired.' Tired of life.

"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-" Dean interrupts Sam.

"You're wrong. It's not about Dad. I mean, part of it is, sure, but…" He doesn't sound like he's a person missing his dad. It sounds like…his dad did something before he died. They talked right before he died…what'd he tell Dean?

"What is it about?" We don't get to know. Because then a noise is heard from outside the room, like a door closing, and Dean stands up. I reach my hands out and he makes sure the other gun is on safety before tossing it to me. I catch it. Turn the safety off and aim towards the door as someone knocks. I turn the safety back on. Infected wouldn't knock….I hope.

"You'd better come see this." I recognize the voice of the doctor. We don't question her. I help Sam off the stool and we walk out the door. I fall silent. I couldn't talk if I tried. Because the whole town is empty. The town is so quiet, my ears are ringing. This isn't natural.

"There's no one. Not anywhere. They've all just...vanished." I look over to the pole.

"It's Roanoke all over again." I whisper. Sam takes a sharp inhale in as he realizes it too.

-000-

"Well, it's been five hours and your blood's still clean. i don't understand it but I think you dodged a bullet." I look up sharply from my phone, texting Wade after the service came back.

"Five hours?" She steps away from the microscope and nods.

"So…it's been eight hours since…" The brothers understand. And looked beyond relieved. I was okay…we were okay.

"Wow." I eventually tune back into their conversation when the doctor makes a shocked noise.

"Their blood. There's no trace of the virus. No sulfur, nothing."

"So…the virus just disappeared." I state, my mind going blank at how that's possible. She nods.

-000-

Sam and Dean wave at Mark and Duane as they drive away in the truck. I don't. Duane was…weird.

"What about them?" Dean nods towards us. She doesn't question the 'them' part but looks at me for a second longer before answering.

"He's going to be fine. No signs of infection." We nod our thanks and she goes back inside to call next town's police station. Dean looks at Sam.

"Hey man, don't look at me. I got no clue." Same.

"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." Double same.

"Where did they come from? Where did they go?" I state in a deadpanned voice. Dean looks at me with barely hidden amusement.

"'Cotton Eyed Joe'? Really?" I shrug.

"Why was I immune?" Sam continues on. MAGIC. I shrug and start getting in the car. Dean does too and Sam goes around the other side.

"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?" We all buckle ourselves in and drive away.