( INFECTION )

      "This is my vision, Dean. It's happening." Sam says.

      "Yeah, I figured."

      "You can't kill him, all right? Not yet. We don't know if he's infected or not." Sam says.

      "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?" Dean says.

      "All right, then we should keep him tied up, and we should wait and see." Sam says.

      "For what? For him to Hulk out and infect somebody else? No thanks, can't take that chance." Dean starts to push past Sam, who 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."

      "It's supposed to be tough, Dean. We're supposed to struggle with this, that's the whole point." Sam says.

      "What does that buy us?"

      "A clear conscience, for one!"

      "Well, it's too late for that." Dean says.

      Sam stops him again. "What the hell's happened to you?" He asks.

      "What?"

      "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 says.

      "Mm-hmm." Dean pushes past Sam a third time; Sam tries to stop him again but Dean hurls him against the far wall.

      He goes back into the hall and locks the door behind him. "Hey!" Sam rattles the lock. "Open the damn door, Dean! Don't do it, Dean! Don't!"

      Dean is now in the hallway from the vision in the Teaser. He drops the clip out of the gun and taps it against the butt, then replaces it. He opens the door to the lab and shuts it behind him; Duane is tied to the chair and Mark, Pam and Dr. Lee stand nearby.

      "No, you're not gonna...No, no, I swear it's not in me!" Duane yells.

      "Oh God. We're all gonna die." Pam says.

      "Maybe he's telling the truth." Mark says.

      "No, he's not him, not anymore."

      "Stop it! Ask her, ask the Doctor! It's not in me!" Duane yells.

      "I...I can't tell."

      Duane begins sobbing. "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."

      "I got no choice." Dean says.

      The moment stretches on: Dean pointing the gun at Duane with his finger hovering over the trigger, Duane sobbing, the others watching in tense silence.

     "Dean!" Elena yells and steps in front of him. "Think about what you're doing."

      "I know what I'm doing." Dean says.

      "No you don't. You're about to kill a man in cold blood." Elena says. "And I know you don't want to do it, so just lower the gun Dean."

      Dean trembles, hesitates, and finally lowers the gun with a grimace. "Damn it!" Duane pants in relief as Dean leaves the room.

      Dean and Sam are preparing explosives with rags and glass bottles. Dr. Lee enters, hands in her pockets. "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." She says.

      Dean and Sam share a look; Sam nods, Dean lowers his head. "Sure. Yeah." He says and Lee leaves. Sam turns to Dean. "You know I'm gonna ask you why."

      "Yeah, I know." Says Dean.

      "So why? Why didn't you do it?" Sam says.

      "We need more alcohol." Sam gets up and passes Elena and goes into the dispensary. She nods at him before going in to talk to Dean.

      Dean has his back to her. "Hey." She says and Dean turns around.

      "Hey. How's everyone holding up. I bet I scared the bejeeberz out of them." He says.

      Elena laughs. "Yeah." She turns completely serious and goes over to Dean. "Thanks for not shooting him."

      "You were right." Dean says. "If I had killed him, I would've had to carry that weight forever and I already have too much riding on me."

      "What do you mean?" Elena asks, but gets no answer. "Well, do you need any help?" She asks and Dean motions to all the bombs.

      Meanwhile, Sam goes into the dispensary and finds Pam already there. "How you holding up, Pam?" He asks.

      "Good. It'll all be over soon." She shuts the door and locks it; Sam, his back turned, doesn't notice. "In fact, I've been waiting for this the whole time."

      "For what?" Sam asks.

      "To get you alone." Pam lashes out and knocks him to the ground. She straddles his chest and hits him, hard, across the face.

      Outside the room, Dean and Mark hear the commotion and arm themselves. Pam has a scalpel in one hand, which she slices across Sam's chest and then across her own palm, placing her wound over his.

      Dean kicks the door open and shoots her three times in the back. She convulses and falls to the floor. Elena appears behind him, shocked. Sam reaches out a hand to Dean, who starts to lean over to take it. Mark pulls him back.

      "She bled on him. He's got the virus." Mark says. Sam pulls his hand back, realizing it's true; close on Dean's face, stunned, looking from Sam to Pam.

      Sam is now sitting on the stool, a bandage pressed to his chest. His eyes are down, and he looks near tears. The others surround him, Dean pacing angrily. "Doc, check his wound again, would you?" Dean asks. "Doctor!"

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

      "Did her blood actually enter your wound?" Lee asks.

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

      "We don't know that for sure." Elena says.

      "We can't take a chance." Says Duane.

      "You know what we have to do." Mark says.

     "Nobody is shooting my brother."

      "He isn't gonna be your brother much longer. You said it yourself." Duane says.

      "Nobody is shooting anyone!" Dean yells.

      "You were gonna shoot me!"

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

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

      "Forget it." Dean scoffs.

      "Dean, I'm not gonna become one of those things." Sam says.

      "Sam, we've still got some time." Dean says sadly.

      "Time for what? Look, I understand he's your brother, and I'm sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of this." Mark says.

      He pulls out his handgun. "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 yells.

      "Then what are we supposed to do?!" Mark asks.

      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." He says.

      "What about you?" Elena asks.

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

      "You're not gonna get rid of me that easy." Dean says.

      "No, he's right. Come with us." Marks says. "Okay, it's your funeral." He leads Duane and Dr. Lee out the door.

      "I'm sorry. Thanks for everything, Marshals." Lee says.

      "Oh, actually we're not really Marshals." Dean says.

      "Um. Oh." She leaves, and Dean shuts the door behind her.

      Elena stayed behind and stood still. "You should probably go with them too, Lena." Dean says.

      "No." She says.

      "You really want to get yourself killed...for us?!" Dean yells at her.

      "Yes, because it's worth it." She says and casually sits down in a chair.

      Dean sighs. "You can live your life. Get married, have kids. Just get out of here." He says.

      "I've already said this before," Elena says. "It's my duty to fight with you guys, side by side. And I can't do that if you're dead, so, we're gonna stay and fight or die trying."

     Dean turns slowly to face Sam, who starts to cry. "Wish we had a deck of cards, or a foosball table or something."

      "Dean, Elena, don't do this. Just get the hell out of here." Sam says.

      "No way." Elena says.

      "Give me my gun, and leave." Sam says.

      "For the last time, Sam." Dean says. "No."

      Sam slams the table. "This is the dumbest thing you've ever done." He says to Dean.

      "Oh, I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?" Dean asks and shudders at the thought.

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

      "No?" Dean says.

      "No, you can keep going."

      "Who says I want to?" Dean asks.

      "What?" Elena asks.

      Dean crosses to the other wall and pulls a handgun out of his 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." He says. Elena realizes that he neglected to say this to her.

      "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 —" Sam starts.

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

      "What is it about?"

      They hear a noise outside and a moment later, there's a knocking on the door. Dean picks up both handguns and crosses to it.

      Dr. Lee is there. He opens the door. Dr. "You'd better come see this." She says.

      All five survivors are standing just outside the clinic; everything else in sight is deathly silent. "There's no one. Not anywhere. They've all just...vanished." Lee says. Close shot of a telephone pole into which is carved "CROATOAN".

      CLINIC
[ ☼ ]

      Dr. Lee is looking through the microscope while Sam is seated on the exam table. "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.

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

      "What?" Sam asks.

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

      Mark and Duane are loading up a truck; Dr. Lee stands in the doorway of the clinic. "Hey, the Sarge and I are getting the hell out of here, heading south. You should come." Duane says to Lee.

      "I'd better get over to Sidewinder, get the authorities up here. If they'll believe me. Take care." She replies.

      Mark waves to her and to Dean and Sam, who are leaning against the Impala. "What about him?" Mark asks.

      "He's going to be fine. No signs of infection." Dr. Lee goes back inside as Mark and Duane pull away in the truck.

      Dean turns to Sam. "Hey man, don't look at me. I got no clue." Sam says.

      "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." Dean says.

      "Why was I immune?"

      "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?" Dean says. They get in the car and pull away from town.

      Mark drives his pickup down a dark two-lane road; Duane is in the passenger's seat. "You mind pulling up ahead there?" Duane asks.

      "All right." Mark pulls onto the shoulder and stops the truck

      "I gotta make a call."

      "No phone out here." Mark says.

      "I got it covered." Duane pulls out a small knife.

      "What the hell is that?" Mark asks.

      In a quick motion, Duane lashes out, slitting Mark's throat; he catches the blood in a metal bowl, just like the one Meg used to use. He sits back and dips his hand in the blood, swirling it around.

      "It's over, you'll be pleased. I don't think any more tests are necessary." Pause. "The Winchester boy, definitely immune, as expected." Pause. "Yes, of course. Nothing left behind." Close on Duane's face, whose eyes have gone demonic-black.

      The Impala is parked by the side of a road, overlooking a river. Dean, Elena and Sam lean against a fence, drinking beer. "So. Last night. You want to tell me what the hell you were talking about?" Sam asks.

      "What do you mean?" Dean asks.

      "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." Says Dean.

      "No, I can't. No way."

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

      "No, no, no, no. You can't pull that crap with me, man. You're talking." Says Sam.

      "And what if I don't?"

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

      "I don't know, man. I just think maybe we ought to...go to the Grand Canyon." Dean says.

      Elena looks at him skeptically. "What?"

      "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 bang Lindsey Lohan." Dean says.

      "You're not making any sense." Sam says.

      "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?" Dean asks.

      "Why are you saying all this?" Sam asks and 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 can't. I promised." Dean says.

      "Who?"

      "Dad." Dean says simply.

      "What are you talking about?"

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

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