Chapter Eight, Yellow Fever

October 13th - October 16th, 2008

After Harley discovered an obit of a forty-four-year-old marathon runner, named Frank, who died of a heart attack, the three siblings made their way to a small town.
"Is that my ACDC T-shirt?" Dean asked, looking in the rear view mirror at his sister who sat in black leather trousers which he hated as everyone stared at her more, his T-shirt, a green leather jacket he got her a few years ago, black heeled boots, a choker and she had her hair half up and wore black lipstick.
"Not any more." Harley replied teasingly, making Dean laugh. Before Harley went back to checking out some of the obits while Sam had the rest.

The reason it had caught Harley's attention is because a couple of days before, two other men around the same age died of heart attacks in the same town. Once they reached the town and booked into a motel Sam, Dean and Harley dressed in their FBI get up and left to speak to the coroner and the sheriff. Sam and Dean were wearing black suits while Harley wore a white shirt, a black pencil skirt with a black leather bent, black heels. She switched her makeup to light brown eyeshadow and red lipstick, her hair was in a side bun with a brown crop jacket over her shoulders and her FBI badge hanging around her neck. She even had a gun hidden in a pocket of her skirt that she'd made.

***

After they had finished speaking to the Sherif the three siblings started to head back to the Impala where they could freely discuss the details of the case.
"No way that was a heart attack." Dean said, as they walked down the sidewalk.
"Definitely no way. Three victims, all with those same red scratches. And they all went from jittery to terrified to dead within forty-eight hours." Harley said.
"Something scared them to death?" Dean asked.
"All right, so what can do that?" Sam asked.
"What can't?" Dean and Harley asked.
"Ghosts, vampires, chupacabra? It could be a hundred things." Harley continued.

"Yeah. So, we make a list and start crossing things off" Sam said.
"All right, so who's the last person to see Frank O'Brien alive?" Dean asked.
"His neighbour, Mark Hutchins." Harley replied.
"Hang on, hang on!" Dean said, looking at something.
"What?" Sam asked, confused.
"I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there." Dean said. Sam and Harley saw teenagers talking near the Impala.
"Let's walk this way." Dean said crossing the street.
"Dean, are you all right?" Harley asked concerned.
"Never better." Dean replied tensely.

***

"Tyler and Perry. Just like Aerosmith? And Rathbone. Like the actor?" Mark Hutchins said, looking from Sam, to Dean and finally to Harley as they sat in his house. The three Winchesters were sitting on a couch and Harley was in between her two brothers. Dean was looking around the room; he was scared. Mark was sitting in a chair across from them with a snake on his shoulder and there were a lot of reptiles in the room.
"Yeah, small world. So, the last time you saw Frank O'Brien?" Sam asked.
"Monday, he was watching me from his window. I waved at him, but he just closed the curtains." Mark said.

"Hmm. Did you speak to him recently? Did he seem different? Uh, scared?" Harley asked, a little uncomfortable in a room full of reptiles. The bearded dragons she didn't mind, what she did were the snakes.
"Oh, totally. He was freaking out." Mark said. Sam and Harley looked at Dean who looked freaked out too.
"Do you know, uh.. do you know what scared him?" Dean asked.
"Well, yeah, witches." Mark said.
"Witches?" Sam asked, sharing a look with his siblings.
"Like...?" Harley asked openly, hoping for clarification.
"Well, 'Wizard of Oz' was on tv the other night, right?" Mark asked. "And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him."

"Anything else scare him?" Sam asked. "Everything else scared him. Al-Qaeda, ferrets, artificial sweeteners. Those pez dispensers with their dead little eyes. Lots of stuff." Mark said. Harley looked at her brother and saw him looking around again at the animals.
"So, tell me. What was Frank like?" Harley asked.
"I mean, he's dead, you know?" Mark asked. "I- I don't want to hammer him but he got better."
"He got better?" Sam asked, confused.
"Well, in high school he was, he was a dick." Mark said.
"A dick?" Sam said.

"Like a bully. I mean, he probably taped half the town's butt cheeks together..." Mark was cut off by Dean snickering only for Harley to elbow him to shut up. "Mine included."
"So he pissed a lot of people off. You think anyone would have wanted to get revenge?" Dean asked.
"Well, I don't... Frank had a heart attack, right?" Mark asked.
"Just answer the question, sir." Sam said.
"No, I don't think so" Mark shook his head "Like I said, he got better. And after what happened to his wife."
"His wife?" Dean asked, "So he was married."

"She died about twenty years ago. Frank was really broken up about it." Mark replied. Dean started staring at the snake around Mark's neck and Mark noticed him. "Don't be scared of Donny. He's a sweetheart. It's Marie you got to look out for." Mark said, nodding to the sofa. "She smells fear." Harley saw a big yellow snake on the back of the sofa and froze. The snake crawled onto Dean's lap while he sat like a statue.

***

Dean was sitting in the car reading while scratching on his left arm. Harley was in the backseat reading Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone while listening to some music on her iPod. The passenger side door opened and Sam climbed in.
"Hey. Any luck at the county clerk's office?" Sam asked.
"I'm not sure I'd call it luck. Frank's wife, Jessie, was manic-depressive. She went off her meds back in '88 and vanished. They found her two weeks later, three towns over. Strung up in her motel room, suicide." Dean said.
"Any chance Frank helped her along to the other side?" Sam asked.

"No, Frank was working the swing shift when she disappeared. Airtight alibi." Dean said, turning the engine on. "How was Frank's pad?"
"Clean. Searched it top to bottom. No EMF, no hex bags, no sulfur." Sam replied.
"So probably no ghosts, no witches, no demons" Dean said.
"Three down and ninety-seven to go!" Harley piped into the conversation, she barely spoke when Sam was around as she was still angry with him but they were on a job and sometimes she had to speak to him, but getting lost in Harry Potter helped her keep her cool.

"Yeah. Dude, you're going twenty." Sam pointed out.
"And?" Dean asked.
"That's the speed limit." Sam replied.
"What? Safety's a crime now?" Dean asked, and then drove through an intersection, past their hotel.
"Dude, where are you going?" Sam asked. "That was our hotel."
"Sam, I'm not gonna make a left-hand turn into oncoming traffic. I'm not suicidal." Dean snapped. Sam and Harley gave Dean a confused look.
"Dee, are you sure you're okay?" Harley asked.

"Of course sweetheart." Dean said smiling, as he looked at her from the rearview mirror. "Harlene Rose Winchester! Put on your seatbelt right away! I don't want to nearly lose you again due to another car accident!"
"Okay, Dee. Just calm down." Harley replied dazedly, as she put on her belt. Suddenly the EMF went off in the background.
"Do you hear something?" Sam asked, taking out the EMF meter, which flared up the closer it got to Dean.
"Am I haunted? Am I haunted?!" Dean yelled.

***

Sam was on the phone talking to Bobby while Dean and Harley were in the car. Dean was lying on the front seat drumming 'Eye of the Tiger' while Harley was drumming in the back. Sam banged on the roof of the car making Dean and Harley jump.
"Dude. Look at this" Dean said, showing his arm where there were three irritated scratch.
"I just talked to Bobby." Sam said, handing Dean a box of donuts.
"And?" Dean asked, sniffed the donuts and then tossed into the car.
"What the--" Harley said perplexed, Dean never turned down donuts.
"Um, well, you're not gonna like it" Sam said.

"What?" Dean asked nervously.
"It's ghost sickness." Sam said.
"Ghost sickness?" Dean asked.
"Yeah." Sam nodded.
"God, no." Dean shook his head. "I don't even know what that is!" Dean said.
"Okay. 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.
"Okay, get to the good stuff." Harley said anxiously.
"Symptoms are that you get anxious..." Sam sighed.
"Yeah." Dean nodded.
"Then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out. Sound familiar?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, but Sam, we haven't seen a ghost in weeks." Dean said.

"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.
"So, as Frank O'Brien was the first to die, that would mean he was probably the first infected. Patient zero." Harley added.
"Our very own outbreak monkey." Dean added.
"Right." Sam nodded. "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?" Dean asked. "Cornjerkers." Sam said.
"So, ghosts infected Frank. He passed it onto the other guys and I got it from his corpse?" Dean asked.

"Right." Sam nodded.
"So now what, I have forty-eight hours before I go insane and my heart stops?" Dean asked.
"More like twenty-four."
"Super." Dean said sarcastically.
"Yeah." Sam sighed.
"Well, why me? Why not you? I mean, you got hit with the spleen juice. We know why Harley didn't get infected because she's our sweet baby sister no matter the job we have to do." Dean said.
"Yeah, um, you see Bobby and I have a theory about that too. Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh, personality type. Frank was a bully. The other two victims, one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer." Sam said.
"Okay, what's your point Sam?" Harley asked.

"Basically, they were all dicks." Sam said.
"So you're saying I'm a dick?" Dean asked.
"No, no, no." Sam shook his head. "It's not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favour."
"I don't scare people!" Dean said.
"Dean, all we do is scare people." Sam said.
"Okay, well then, you're a dick too." Dean said.
"Apparently, I'm not." Sam smiled.
"You could be a little less smug about this Sam!" Harley snapped, glaring at him.

"Whatever. How do we stop it?" Dean asked.
"We gank the ghost that started all this. We do that, the disease should clear up." Sam said.
"You thinking Frank's wife?" Dean asked. "Who knows why she killed herself, you know? Hey, what are you doing waiting out here, anyway?" Sam asked.
"Our room is on the fourth floor." Dean said, looking up at the motel. "It's...it's high." Harley felt sorry for him and sure as hell wasn't going to let anything take her brother from her again.
"I'll see if I can move us down to the first." Sam shook his head.
"Thanks."
"Sure." Sam replied, before he walked away.

***

Harley, who hadn't been sleeping that great, decided to take a nap in one of the beds, until that was, she was abruptly startled awake by a loud shattering of something. In one fluid motion Harley sat up with her gun in her hand ready to fire. Until she saw it was the clock that had been smashed to pieces and Dean was searching through the fridge. Putting the safety back on and her gun back in her thigh holster she looked over at eldest brother worriedly.
"Dean, are you okay?" Harley asked concerned. He turned around with two beers in his hands and handed one to Harley.
"I'm great." He said sarcastically, throwing himself on to the sofa. "I'm sorry I woke you Rosie." He apologised. She waved him off just as Sam walked in and noticed the clock and his sister who was awake but still looked exhausted.

"Everything all right?" Dean took a long swig of his beer as he rested his feet on the coffee table.
"Oh, yeah. Just peachy. Find anything?" "Yeah, Jessie O'Brien's body was cremated, so..." He sat down in the chair across from Dean and rested his feet on the coffee table. "I'm pretty sure she is not our ghost." Sam added, as Dean aggressively itched at his arm, and Sam nudged his foot with his own. "Hey, quit picking at that." He stopped and pouted. "How are you feeling?" Sam asked.
"Awesome. It's nice to have my head on the chopping block again. I almost forgot what that feels like." Dean said.

"I'm not letting anyone take you again from me, Dee." Harley said firmly, getting off the bed and sitting on the arm of the sofa.
"We'll keep looking," Sam said. Dean's eyes started to bug out, and he began coughing.
"You okay?" Harley asked, rubbing his back. He continued coughing.
"Hey!" Sam shouted as Dean began choking on something.
"Dean!" Sam and Harley exclaimed. Dean ran off into the bathroom. Sam and Harley quickly followed after him. He coughed something out into the sink. He reached down and picked up a bloody woodchip with weird writing on it.

"What the...?" He rinsed it off and looked closer at it.
"We've been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have..." Sam said, "You."
"I don't want to be a clue." Dean pouted.
"The abrasions... this... the disease, it's trying to tell us something." Harley added grumpily, she hated this was happening all over again.
"Tell us what? Wood chips?" Dean asked. Sam nodded.
"Exactly." Sam said.

***

The Winchester siblings drove to a lumber mill just outside of town and parked the Impala. As soon as they got out, Dean looked around nervously.
"I'm not going in there." Dean said firmly.
"Harley and I need backup. You're going in, Dean." Sam said. Dean took a huge swig of whiskey.
"Let's do this." He looked around and nudged Harley. "It is a little spooky, isn't it?" He asked. Wanting to make him feel better Harley agreed, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows at her. The three dug around in the secret compartment for a moment when Sam handed Dean a gun. Dean moved back slightly.

"Oh, I'm not carrying that." Sam gave him a look. Dean shrugged. "It could go off." He held a flashlight close to his chest. "I'll man the flashlight and Harley can have the gun."
"You do that," Sam said, slightly annoyed as he handed Harley the gun despite already having one in her hand. Not wanting to argue, Harley just simply slipped it into her thigh holster. Dean smiled happily. As they walked in, Dean in the middle, Sam's EMF meter started going crazy, but then they realised it started going even more crazy after Dean got closer to Sam.
"EMF's not gonna work with me around, is it?" Dean asked.

"You don't say." Sam scoffed and shut it off. "Come on."
"Hey!" Harley said annoyed, jumping up to slap Sam on the back of the head. "Enough with the attitude! Dean can't help the way he's feeling so stop giving him a hard time about it!" Glaring at her brother, Harley stalked off with Dean following her, only to be called back by Sam when he noticed something on the floor.
"Wait!" Sam shouted, as he reached down and moved a dirty cloth to reveal a ring. When he picked it up, he read the inscription, "'To Frank. Love, Jessie.' Frank O'Brien's ring."
"What the hell was Frank doing here?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head.

"No idea." They walked into another room, which was lined with lockers, but then one of them started rattling. The siblings looked at each other, and then Sam readied himself to open the locker. He looked back at us and mouthed, 'on three.' Dean was shaking while pointing the flashlight at the locker, and Harley was ready with her shotgun.
"One... two... three..." Sam whispered, and whipped the locker open. A cat screeched and ran out of the locker, causing Dean to scream loudly and very high pitched. Sam and Harley widened their eyes as they stared at him in disbelief. Dean stopped screaming and took a deep breath.

"That was scary!" He shouted nervously. Harley bit her lip to stop her from laughing but a few sniggers passed through her lips as she and Sam left the room. "Wait," Dean called after them and then followed. Harley managed to get herself under control as they continued walking. They made their way into an office. Papers were strewn all over the floor. Sam picked up an ID card off of a desk and read it.
"'Luther Garland.'" Dean and Harley walked over to another desk and found a drawing of a woman.
"Hey, this is uh— this is Frank's wife." Sam walked over.
"Plot thickens." Sam muttered.

"Yeah, but into what?" Dean asked, and picked up the drawing. As soon as he did, the entire factory started working, which startled him. He pointed his flashlight all around the room until he spotted someone standing in the corner. Sam and Harley readied their shotguns at the figure. Sam stepped forward.
"Hey!" Sam shouted. A moment later, Dean ran out of the room at a full sprint. The figure turned to us and revealed that it was the ghost of Luther Garland. He was about to charge at the remaining Winchesters when they fired their shotguns at him. Sam and Harley ran out to the Impala and found Dean chugging his whiskey while hiding behind it. Sam held up Luther's ID card to show Dean. "Guess we got the right place."

* * *

Sam, Dean and Harley went to speak with the Sheriff to see if he knew anything about Luther Garland's death. The coroner's report only said the cause of death was physical trauma, which could mean around a million things. Since Dean had been non-stop drinking and verging on drunk, Sam told him to keep quiet and follow his lead and let him and Harley do the talking. Personally Harley thigh Dean should've stayed at the hotel to sober up. Unfortunately, the deputy on duty didn't know anything about Luther's death, and the Sheriff was "out sick," or at least that's what the deputy told them. Sam and Harley believed that the Sheriff was in his office, but they didn't know why the deputy would lie about it.

So, the next best thing Harley could think of was going to Peaceful Pines Assisted Living to speak to Luther's brother.
"This isn't gonna work," Dean said, after Sam handed him one of the badges. "Come on, these badges are fake. What if we get busted? We could go to jail."
"Dean, shh!" Sam hissed at him.
"Dee, we've done this a million times." Harley told him gently.
"I know but what if we get caught, huh?" Dean asked, still breathing heavily.
"Calm down. Deep breath, okay?" Sam instructed. Dean took a deep breath.
"Do you feel better?" Harley asked gently. Dean shook his head as he looked out his window, nervously scratching his arm. Sam sighed and smacked Dean in the chest.
"Just come on. Don't scratch." Dean put his head down, and reluctantly followed Sam and Harley into the nursing home.

* * *

After they left the nursing home, Dean stopped and rested his arms on the hood of the Impala.
"Now, we know what these are.. road rash. And I'm guessing Luther swallowed some wood chips when he was being dragged down that road."
"You're experiencing his death in slow motion." Harley realised, her eyes wide and fearful.
"Yeah, well, not slow enough, huh?" Dean scoffed. "Say we burn some bones and get me healthy."
"Dean, it won't be that easy," Sam said.
"No, no, it'll be that easy." Dean shook his head. "Why wouldn't it be that easy?"

"Luther was road-hauled. His body was ripped to pieces. He was probably scattered all over that road. There's no way we're gonna find all the remains," Harley explained as gently as she could.
"You're kidding me," Dean said, heartbroken. Sam shrugged.
"Look, we'll just have to figure something else out." Sam said.
"Ya know what? Screw this," Dean said, starting to walk away. Sam put his hand out.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dean."
"Come on. No, I mean, come on, Sam, Harley. What are we doing?!" Dean shouted.
"We're hunting a ghost," Sam said.
"A ghost, exactly!" Dean yelled. "Who does that?"

"Us." Harley replied.
"Us? Right. And that is exactly why our lives suck!" Dean exclaimed. "I mean, come on, we hunt monsters! What the hell?!" He shouted. "I mean, normal people, they see a monster, and they run. But not us, no, no, no, we— we search out things that want to kill us. Yeah? Huh? Or eat us! You know who does that?" He asked. "Crazy people! We... are insane! Ya know, and then there's the bad diner food and then the skeevy motel rooms and then the truck-stop waitress with the bizarre rash. I mean, who wants this life? Huh? Seriously?" He asked.

"Do you two actually like being stuck in a car with me eight hours a day, every single day? I don't think so!" He shouted. "I mean, I drive too fast. And I listen to the same five albums over and over and over again, even though Harley likes them but you don't Sam, and— Harley and I sing along. I'm annoying, I know that." He pointed to Harley. "And you don't get to be a mother or a Veterinary Nurse like I know you want to be! It drives me insane that you can't have that!" Harley furrowed her brow.
"Dee? Okay, chill." Harley started.

"And on top of all that, I'm constantly worrying about you. Everything on this dumb planet wants you just because of your powers! We should be hiding you away! Protecting you! Not letting you face the things that want to kidnap you!" He turned his attention to Sam. "And you... you're gassy! You eat half a burrito, and you get toxic!" He shook his head. "I mean, ya know what?" He tossed the keys to Harley and started walking away. "You can forget it." Sam put his hands up in protest.
"Whoa, Dean. where are you going?" Dean stopped and pointed at Sam.
"Stay away from me, okay? 'Cause I am done with it." He turned and started walking away again.

"Dean, you can't just leave. You can't just leave me." Harley said, as she watched him in disbelief.
"I'm done with the monsters and— and— and the hellhounds and the ghost sickness and the damn apocalypse. I'm out. I'm done. Quit," Dean said, as he continued to walk away.
"Dean!" Harley shouted after him, but he rounded the corner of the building and didn't look back. Harley looked at Sam. "Well, what are we gonna do? We can't just let him wander off. He's gonna end up in an alley having a panic attack somewhere." Sam nodded.
"Get in the car." Sam and Harley got in and drove off in the direction Dean had disappeared, but he was nowhere to be found.

They drove around for a while, but there was still no sign of him.
"Sam, I'm getting worried." Harley said, as she continued to analyse everyone and everything she could see out of her window - well as much as she could without crashing the Impala. Sam sighed.
"I'm sure he's fine, let's go back to the motel. Maybe he'll be there."

* * *

Back at the motel, they walked in, and, sure enough, Dean was sitting on his bed panting and looking terrified. Sam walked in with his hands out.
"We looked everywhere for you, Dean. How the hell did you get here? Harley nearly had a heart attack worrying about you!"
"Ran. I'm sorry Rosie." Dean panted out of breath. Sam sat on his bed, and Harley sat down on the bed next to Dean. "What do we do now?" Dean asked. "I got less than four hours on the clock. I'm gonna die."
"NO!" Harley shouted, tears in her eyes. "No, you aren't, we're gonna figure this out." Harley tried to assure him, but he looked at Sam as if he were horrified by what he was saying. Sam nodded.
"Yeah, we aren't going to let you die, Dean." Dean snapped his head to look at Sam, with terror still in his eyes.

"Back?" Sam furrowed his brow.
"What? Dean, take a deep breath." Dean stood up and stepped back against the wall.
"No!" He shouted and pointed at Sam. "You get out of him, you evil sons of bitches! How could you kill her, Sam! My baby sister!" Sam and Harley looked at each other in confusion and walked over to Dean.
"Dean, it's okay I'm alive. I'm safe Dee." Harley said softly, as if she was talking to a startled animal. Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder.
"You're going to pass out if you don't calm down and get your breathing under control." Dean started to choke and hyperventilate. Sam started to shake him, trying to snap him out of whatever was happening. "Hey, hey, hey, Dean. Hey, Dean." Dean finally snapped out of it. He caught his breath, but he looked pale, and he was sweating terribly.

* * *

Sam decided that they needed to bring in Bobby, so he ended up calling him and meeting him up at the lumber mill. Harley didn't want to leave Dean alone, so she stayed behind with him and watched some TV. Harley clicked through the channels until she stumbled upon The Gumby Show, which she thought would be innocent enough. That was until Pokey was lassoed and dragged out of a saloon down a dirt road.
"Oh, this isn't helping." Dean snatched the remote and clicked through the channels.
"I'm sorry." Harley sighed. Dean nodded.
"It's okay, I just need to get my mind off—"
Ring! Ring! Ring! Dean dropped the remote and answered his phone.
"Hey." Dean answered.
(...)

"What is it?" He asked, as he scratched at the marks on his arm.
(...)
"Okay." He sighed, and hung up but continued scratching at his arm. Harley grabbed his hand.
"Stop, you're going to make yourself bleed." Dean pulled his hand away from his arm reluctantly and then looked at Harley, horrified.
"Dean..." Harley said calmly. "It's me. just take a few breaths."
"No, no... do you hear that?" He asked, with a panicked voice as he looked around the room. Harley listened but she couldn't hear anything, except for the usual motel noises.
"I can't hear anything." Harley said apologetically.
"Hellhounds." He said quietly, almost cowering now.

"Dean, it's just this sickness messing with you." Harley said. Dean shook his head, and a moment later, their door rattled and then broke off its hinges. Both of them jumped up off of the sofa. Dean instinctually put himself in between Harley and whatever had just busted through their door.
"Sheriff?" Dean asked. Harley peered around him, gun already in hand, to see the Sheriff standing in the doorway with a gun in his shaking hand. He looked about as good as Dean did at the moment, his skin was pale, and his eyes were red. "What are you doing?" Dean asked.

The Sheriff pointed his gun at Dean.
"Why are you looking into Luther Garland's death?" With his arm up, Harley and Dean could now see that he had blood seeping through his shirt.
"Hey, hey, you're— you're sick. You're sick." Dean pointed to the Sheriff's arm. "You're sick, all right? Just— Just like me, okay? You got to relax."
"Frank O'Brien was my friend." The Sheriff backhanded Dean with the gun, causing him to lean over and grab his face. Harley grabbed Dean's shoulder to see if he was okay, while keeping her gun trained on the Sheriff, but Dean pushed her arm away and stood in front of her again. "So, he made a mistake. So, I didn't bust him. So, what? And you're gonna bring me down over that?!" the sheriff yelled, and pointed his gun at Dean again.

"No, sir." Dean pushed the sheriff's hand out of the way, and they broke out into a fight. The sheriff pushed Dean back against the wall, his forearm to Dean's throat. A rage built inside Dean, and he pushed the sheriff off of him as hard as he could, sending him down onto the coffee table, which broke beneath him. The sheriff started breathing heavily.
"Get away from me!"
"Al, you got to calm down!" Dean yelled. He put his hand out, warning Dean to stay back.
"Step back!"
"Al!" Dean shouted. He clutched his chest in pain, and then slowly, the life left his eyes, and he laid his head back on the ground. Harley watched as Dean stared in horror at what would be his future if Sam could not stop the sickness.

Harley reached over and held his hand, the fear left his face slightly, but it was still there. Dean sat down slowly on his bed, and he began scratching at his arms aggressively. Harley put her hand on his arm and sat down next to him.
"Dean... we are going to fix this, okay?"
"We are running out of time," Dean said, as he continued to scratch and look around the room, paranoid. Harley rested her head on his shoulder.
"I know, but Sam and Bobby got this. Please stop scratching. I can't lose you again, I can't!" Dean took a deep breath and stopped.
"Hand me that bible." He nodded back to the bible that sat on the nightstand between the two beds.

Not questioning it Harley quickly jumped up and handed it to him. As soon as he took it, he closed his eyes and put it up to his forehead, and he started rocking back and forth. Suddenly, he jumped and looked to the right of him, but there was nothing there.
"Huh, no! No!" He shouted into his bible. "Dean?" Harley asked. Dean jumped again.
"You— You are not real!"
"Dean? Who isn't real?" Harley asked, concerned.
"Lilith." He whispered. Harley looked around him, but there was no one there.

Dean stood up and pointed toward the now empty bed.
"You're not real." He clutched his chest in pain and slowly fell to his knees. "You are not real." He breathed heavily and then looked up at something that Harley could not see. "Why me? Why'd I get infected?" He started to groan in pain and fell on his side.
"Dean!" Harley screamed, quickly kneeling next to him. "Listen to me." Harley held his face in her hands, so he would just look at her, but it only seemed to terrify him more, as if he was looking at something completely different than her. "Okay, Dean. Close your eyes and just listen to my voice." He closed his eyes slowly.

"Good... take a deep breath and listen to me... it's Harley, it's really me. I would never hurt you. Do you understand me?" He nodded slowly, still groaning and clutching his chest in pain. "I don't know what you are seeing or hearing right now, but..." Harley leaned down to hug him.
"This is real, you are safe. I just need you to fight this a little bit longer." Suddenly, he gasped and moved away from Harley, looking above her as if something terrible and horrifying was there, but there was nothing. Harley moved forward, taking his hand in hers.

"Dean, whatever you're seeing, it's not real. Just look at me, focus on me." Dean squeezed Harley's hand and then finally looked her in the eyes. The terror melted away for a second, and then he took a deep breath and started coughing.
"Dean?" Harley started to tear up, terrified that she was about to watch him die again. He finally stopped coughing and caught his breath. He pulled Harley into a hug and squeezed her like never before.
"Thank you..." He kissed the side of her head. "Thank you..."

* * *

Later after Sam had picked up Harley and Dean, they were parked a few miles from town on a dirt road with Bobby. Bobby and Sam explained to Harley and Dean that they had chained Luther's spirit to the back of the Impala and dragged him on the road he had died on until his spirit finally gave up.
"So, you guys road-hauled a ghost with a chain?" Dean asked, as he took a sip of his beer. Sam nodded.
"Iron chain etched with spell work." Dean raised his eyebrows.
"Hmm, that's a new one." Dean muttered, as Sam shrugged.
"It was what he was most afraid of. It was pretty brutal, though."

"On the upside, I'm still alive, so uh, go team!" Dean smiled.
"Yeah. How are you feeling, by the way?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged.
"Fine." Dean replied.
"You sure, Dean? 'Cause this line of work can get awfully scary," Bobby teased, with a straight face.
"I'm fine. You want to go hunting?" Dean asked. "I'll hunt. I'll kill anything."
"Aw, he's adorable." Bobby smiled. Everyone laughed except Dean, who shook his head and took a swig of his beer.
"I gotta get out of here." Bobby stood up from the trunk of his car and walked to his door. "You kids drive safe."

"You too, Bobby." Harley said, hugging her pseudo father.
"Hey, thanks." Sam called after him. Bobby nodded and waved and then took off.
"So, uh... so, what did you see?" Sam asked. "Near the end, I mean."
"Sam!" Harley hissed, pausing as she was about to rage a swig of her beer.
"Oh, besides a cop beating my ass?" Dean asked.
"Seriously." Sam smirked, ignoring Harley. Dean nodded after a moment.
"Howler monkeys. Whole roomful of them. Those things creep the hell out of me." Sam chuckled and sipped his beer.
"Right." Sam drawled, not believing him.

"No, just the usual stuff, Sammy. Nothing I can't handle." Dean took a long sip of his beer and stared at the ground for a moment. He never told Harley what he saw after they left the motel to meet Sam, but she could tell whatever it was, was still bothering him. Whoever he was talking to, whatever he saw in that motel; what she saw in his eyes wasn't the ghost sickness, it was real fear. And she knew better than Sam to press him. She knew if and when Dean wanted to share it he would come to them and not before.