A/N: Hello again my wonderful readers and welcome to another short case fic. The guys will have their hands full with this one. It has been fun writing these shorts for your reading pleasure. I want to thank Vegas Granny for all her help, ideas and support. I hope I am keeping the SPN spirit alive for everyone. Enjoy… NC

Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of SPN, and this is my own creation. Any errors are my own.

Chapter 1

The Impala made her way down the highway toward the town of Blair, Nebraska to deliver the Winchester brothers to a possible case. Sam, the youngest of the brothers, had found articles online about townspeople being affected by some sort of odd sickness. The doctors were baffled and had no clue about the cause or how to treat them. From all that Sam could find and read about the sickness, it sounded like their kind of thing.

"Are we going in as CDC?" Sam asked his brother as they neared the town. He sat straighter in his seat and began to look around at their surroundings.

"Sounds like a good idea to me. I figure the docs would talk to another doctor before cops," Dean agreed. "Do we have to wear our monkey suits, or will we be okay as is?"

"We should be okay casually dressed since we can say we came straight to the hospital. Maybe our nicer button ups and a jacket."

"I like the sound of that. Never did feel comfortable in a suit." Dean started looking at signs for the hospital when he entered the town limits and followed them past downtown to the far side of the town. He pulled into the parking lot and found a spot to his liking and parked shutting the engine off.

The brothers climbed from the Impala and stopped at the trunk to look through a cigar box for fake ids. Once they were clipped to their jacket, they headed inside to find the victims so they could access the situation and their condition. A volunteer directed them to the third floor where the victims were isolated from the other patients.

Dean and Sam stopped at the glass windows that looked into the area where five people were in the beds lined against the back wall. There were nurses and orderlies attending them and all were dressed in gowns, gloves, mask, and goggles.

"They don't look sick," Dean mumbled as he studied the patients sitting up in bed staring around.

"Can I help you?" a nurse asked, stopping by them.

"Yes, we're with the CDC and need access to the patients that have been affected by this weird sickness and their records," Dean told her quickly flashing his badge. He spoke with authority and confidence.

"I see," she nodded. "You'll have to put on protective gear before entering the isolation ward," she instructed them showing the brothers where gowns, masks, goggles, and gloves were stored.

"Thank you for your help," Sam told her, knowing it was a good idea to be polite to get cooperation. He slipped on a gown over his clothes and then the gloves, mask, and finally the goggles.

"A little help here," Dean fussed as he struggled with the gown, muttering a few choice words under his breath.

"Hold still," Sam complained reaching to help him.

Once they were dressed to the nurse's satisfaction, she escorted them into the ward and told them she would page the doctor.

Sam picked up the chart at the end of the bed and began to flip through it, scanning the notes for the patient.

"Hello, how are you feeling today?" Dean greeted the first patient, a young man in his late twenties. He frowned when the man looked at him with a blank look on his face but didn't answer him.

"He's not learned to talk again yet," a nurse spoke to Dean.

"Excuse me?" Dean questioned in puzzlement.

"When they were brought in, one by one, none of them could communicate, feed themselves, dress themselves, or take care of their needs," she explained.

"And none of them show any signs of injury?" Sam asked.

"No, not that we could find. There's the doctor; he can fill you in on their condition."

"Gentlemen, I'm Dr. Marsh," the doctor introduced himself. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, I'm Dr. Smith and my partner Dr. Jones; we're with the CDC," Dean replied. "What can you tell us about these patients?"

"It's a mystery to everyone I have spoken to. They were brought in within a week of each other, all with the same symptoms and condition. It was like they forgot who they were and how to do basic things. There were no injuries, and the tests show no signs of brain damage or anything chemical given to them. Their tox screens came back clean and the bloodwork was normal. I mean, I am baffled and so are the other doctors I have consulted."

"So, you're saying their minds are blank," Sam asked as he skimmed the charts.

"You could say that. It's like their minds were reset to factory settings. The patients are learning to do basic tasks, but it will take a long time for them to recover enough to be released. They have no memory of family, friends, or what happened to them."

"Can you tell me if there were any connections between the patients? Did they eat at the same restaurants, shop the same stores, anything like that?"

"The police are looking into that, but I don't think they found anything relevant. This is a small town, I'm sure their paths crossed, but from what the family members and friends told us, a couple of them knew each other but were not close. A couple went to the same church, but none lived near each other. It's a mystery that I cannot find the answer to."

"Thank you doctor, if you should find additional information, please contact us," Dean told him handing him his card with his cell number.

"Of course," Dr. Marsh nodded pocketing the card. "If there's nothing else, I have patients to see."

"That's fine, thank you for your help."

Dean stepped down to the last bed of a young woman who looked a few years older than him and watched as she tried to feed herself with the orderlies' help. He let his eyes roam over the other patients noticing some seemed more alert than others or were learning quicker than others.

"Excuse me," he spoke to a nurse. "Who was the first one that was brought in?"

"That would be Stan Young, bed number three," she replied.

"Okay, thanks," Dean answered stepping to the bed to look at his chart.

There were three women and two men so far that had been stricken with whatever this was and neither brother had a clue what could have done this. Sam quickly noted the names of the patients on a pad and nodded to Dean he was done.

"We need to talk to the cops," Dean told Sam. "Get more information on the victims here."

"Agree," Sam replied. "I've got their names and when they were admitted to the hospital, but we need to know where they were previously and what they were doing. Maybe there's something the locals missed."

"Let's go, we should be able to get there before change of shift."

The brothers stepped from the ward and took off their gowns, gloves, goggles, and masks before heading down the hall to the elevator. They were going to see what they could find out from the local cops before finding a motel to get a room so they could go over everything and see if they could figure out what happened to the stricken victims.