A new morning began, I was wearing what I had yesterday as it was still fresh, and I didn't bring a bag of new clothes. I slipped on the right heel, as I was now dressed for the day. However, my hearing picks up music coming from the car park, outside of the hotel. I walked on over to the window, and parted the cream veil, and looked out to see the Impala, bobbing up and down, playing 'Eye of the Tiger' by Survivor. I frowned, as Dean was enjoying himself too much with this sickness. I rolled my eyes, before letting the veil fall back over the window, and walked away towards the door, as my heels clicked each step of the way. I better go and mingle with him, see if he's ok...

I pushed open the hotel door, the fresh air hit my exposed legs, and the sun shone down on my face. Just in time to see the broad back of Sam, striding on over to the Chevy, and peer inside. It lasted a few seconds, before he banged on the hood, alerting Dean to his presence and made him shoot up. He switched off the radio, and began to exit the car as I stride my hips over to them. My heels clicked against the pavement of the ground, alerting the men to my arrival but Dean was our main focus right now.

"Look at this," I heard the back end of his comment, as he extended his arm out to Sam, allowing him to look, and I also got an eyeful.

"Carpet burns?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, a small smile coming to my face, but as Dean locked eyes with me, he didn't find my joke funny at this moment in time.

"I just talked to Bobby," Sam states, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand, as he did go ask Bobby about ghost sickness.

"And?" Dean asked, but Sam handed over a box of donuts from a nearby diner he must have gone too.

"Um, well, you're not gonna like it," Sam responded, as Dean sniffed the box for a second, and turned and threw it into the car, meaning he wasn't hungry. From the corner of my eye, I could see Sam pull a perplexed complexion, meaning that wasn't natural for Dean to do.

"What?" Sam kept quiet for a second, pulling a face, before finding it alright to speak.

"It's ghost sickness," he states, meaning I was right. I was never wrong when it comes to the supernatural.

"Ghost sickness?" Dean questioned, not sure if it sounded right on his mouth.

"Yeah,"

"God, no," Dean looked defeated for a moment, before raising his head back up to meet our gaze. "I don't even know what this is," he admitted, making me cross my arms over my chest, looking at him with a 'really' expression.

"Ok. Some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes," Sam explained the basics of what it was, as Dean on the other hand looked like he was struggling to keep up.

"Ok, get to the good stuff," he hurried Sam along, not wanting to be here all day.

"Symptoms are you get anxious, and scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out. Sound familiar?" Sam questioned, knowing that the three victims had the same symptoms as Dean has right now.

"Yeah, but, Sam, we haven't seen a ghost in weeks,"

"Well, I doubt you caught it from a ghost. Look once a spirit infects that first person, ghost sickness can spread like any sickness, through a cough, a handshake, whatever. It's like the flu," Sam explained more, as he knew how to talk to his brother best.

"Two meters please," I remarked, cracking another smile, as Dean just rolled his eyes at me.

"Now, Frank O'Brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero,"

"Our very own outbreak monkey," Dean remarked lightly, as it was his way of understanding it all.

"Right. Get this - Frank was in Maumee over the weekend. Softball tournament, which is where he must have infected the other two victims,"

"Were they Gamecocks?"

"Cornjerkers,"

"I'll sum it up for you," I state, wanting my turn in this conversation. "Ghost infects Frank, Frank infects friends, and you get it from his corpse," I tried to speak slowly for him, for him to retain the knowledge in his thick head.

"So now, what, I have forty-eight hours before I go insane and my heart stops?" Dean asks frantically, but Sam pulls a sheepish expression.

"More like twenty-four," Sam spoke the truth, as tick was ticking.

"Super... Well, why me? Why not you, or her?" Dean cocked his gaze between Sam and I. "I mean, you got hit with the spleen juice," he did make a good point about the spleen juice.

"Um, yeah. Um, Bobby and I have a theory about that too. Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh, personality type," Dean looked confused on what type of personality they had. "Frank was a bully, the other two victims - one was a vice principal, and the other was a bounce,"

"Ok," Dean wasn't getting the point Sam was making.

"Basically, they were all dicks," I sniggered at Sam's reason why they were infected, but he didn't let it show.

"So, you're saying I'm a dick?" Dean asks his brother,

"No, no, no"

"Yes, yes, yes," Sam and I spoke in unison, finding it fun to tease Dean a bit about this. Sam locked eyes with me for a moment, narrowing his eyes for a split second, wanting me to shut up and be quiet before I give his brother a massive heart attack and kill him on the spot. I couldn't help but smirk.

"No," Sam reassured his brother, as he connected eyes with him again. "It's not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favor," this was all just a theory, but it was a pretty damn good one.

"I don't scare people," Dean states abruptly, finding the idea idiotic, in his eyes he saves people from whats truly in the dark.

"Dean, all we do is scare people," Sam corrected him, to which he nodded his head in agreement seeing the other side of the picture.

"Ok, well, then, you're a dick too,"

"Apparently, I'm not," Sam replies with a pleased expression, taking pride that he wasn't th dick in the family.

"Whatever. How do we stop it?" Dean wanted to gank this ghost before his ego could stink anymore.

"We gank the ghost that started all this. We do that, the disease should clear up," Sam had the cure to solve Dean's problem, and for anyone else to be infected.

"Frank's wife?" I raised my eyebrow, making both men turn their heads to face me, and my perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Who knows why she killed herself, you know," Sam shrugged his shoulders, as we didn't know the true reason behind her death. "What are you doing waiting out here, anyway?" Sam asked the question, and I believe I had the answer too. Dean looked away from our gazes, and to the hotel and titled his head up slightly.

"Our room's on the fourth floor," his head came back to meet our gaze. "It's - it's high," he used his hand to indicate the height, and he was frightened of it right now. Indecisively, Sam and I shared a look, though it was only brief, I could tell what the look meant, but he scoffs at the thought of his brother being this big baby.

"I'll see if I can move us down to the first," Sam had a solution for this problem.

"Thanks," Dean replied as if he was a child, thanking his Father for doing something good for him. Sam began to walk away, and to the front door of the hotel.

"God it really has affected you hasn't it," I state, eyeing Dean for a moment. "A case I thought you were going to be a bad-ass on, and you end up being a scared baby," I scoffed as I thought I was going to see the Winchesters in action but I was stuck on babysitting.

"Oh, yeah it's totally my fault, Princess," he barks back at me, and uses the word 'Princess' as an insult.

"Really, Princess? How original," I remarked, scoffing slightly at his choice of word. "Let me tell you something," he stalked forward, extending my index finger out to him and pushed him back with such force he tumbles onto the car side, but I didn't let my finger up. "You have no idea who I am, nor what I'm capable of, and in the state you're in, it wouldn't be fun to beat you up. So, I suggest you keep that pretty mouth shut, unless you want it wired shut," my voice didn't raise or peak off it's normal tone, but Dean's eyes did grow a few inches as he was fearing me right now. He quickly nodded his head in agreement, before I poked him one last time and walked away from him, his eyes followed me for a moment.

It was fun torturing him in this state, but it was the ghost sickness, it was doing it's job. The Dean Winchester I've heard about was a ruthless, bad-ass who doesn't take prisoners when it comes to monsters. That was the Dean I'm after...

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