After about an hour, the doctor returned with the results.
"So, Doc," Dean asked, "he's clean?"
"Yes," the doctor replied, exhaustion heavy in her voice. "No sulfur in his blood. He's not infected."
Dean nodded once. He'd only asked to check because he'd been a little suspicious that Henry might be infected, but now he was completely sure he wasn't.
The Virus spread through blood and contact, and Henry didn't have a single cut or open wound that suggested infected blood had gotten on him.
That alone was enough to confirm it—Henry was safe.
The doctor rubbed her temples. "Any change? Were you able to reach anyone outside? Is help coming?"
She looked stretched thin. Her town was falling apart, people turning on each other, phones dead, roads blocked. And everything happening is really pushing her to the edge.
"No," Dean answered. "Still no contact. And the only road out is blocked. We may have to blast our way through."
That was why they had come here. A medical center had access to chemicals. With the right combination, they could improvise explosives.
The nurse, standing near the counter, spoke in a low, defeated tone. "We're going to die here."
The air in the room tightened.
Henry glanced at her more carefully.
"Not to be rude," Henry said cautiously, "but are we sure she's fine? She seems… disturbed. Did anyone check that she's not infected?"
The doctor frowned. "There's no need. She's been with us the entire time. She's not infected."
The nurse, who had clearly heard everything, stiffened.
Dean caught the change immediately. Her jaw tightened. Her eyes shifted—not panicked, not afraid. Calculating.
That wasn't fear.
That was someone hiding something.
"Doc," Dean said evenly, his attention locked on her, "did you actually test her?"
The nurse's grip tightened at her side.
In the next second she moved.
She lunged straight toward Sam, a scalpel flashing in her hand under the fluorescent lights.
"Sam!" Dean barked.
Dean stepped in, but she swung hard with her free hand and caught him across the jaw. The impact made a sharp thud as he stumbled into a metal cart, instruments clattering to the floor with a harsh clang-clang.
Sam barely had time to react before she slammed into him, driving him backward. They hit the ground hard.The scalpel came down in a quick arc—
Slice.
Sam sucked in a breath as the blade cut across his forearm, blood immediately staining his sleeve.
She raised the blade again, intending to slice her own hand open and infect Sam with her blood.
Henry didn't think.
He grabbed the nearest object—a heavy iron stool—and swung it with both hands.
It connected with the side of her head with a dull, metallic crack.
She flew off Sam and hit the floor, sliding across the tile.
But she didn't stay down.
She hit the floor hard—then jerked upright with a violent snap.
Her neck twisted at a wrong angle, chin nearly touching her shoulder before it corrected with a wet crack.
She threw her head back and screamed—
"HRAAAAGHH!"
Her eyes locked onto Henry.
Dean recovered instantly, stepping forward as he drew his gun in the same motion.
"Get down!" he shouted.
Henry threw himself to the side just as the first shot cracked through the room.
BANG.
The bullet hit her square in the chest, the impact jerking her backward. She stumbled but didn't fall, fingers clawing at the counter as she tried to steady herself, still pushing forward like sheer will could keep her upright.
Dean adjusted his aim.
BANG.
The second shot struck higher. Her head snapped back, and this time her body gave out completely. She crumpled onto the tile, the sharp echo of gunfire lingering in the small clinic long after she stopped moving.
[Congratulations. Demon Infectee Eliminated.]
[Reward Granted: 1 Supernatural Point.]
Henry winced, rubbing at his ears. "You know firing that in a closed room isn't exactly good for hearing, right?"
Dean didn't respond. He was already moving, grabbing Sam by the shoulder and pulling him upright.
"Did her blood get on you?" Dean asked sharply.
Sam glanced down at his arm and clothes, checking fast. "No. It was close, but no."
Dean's eyes scanned him anyway, making sure.
Then both brothers looked at Henry.
He was still holding the iron stool, breathing controlled, not shaking. They didn't say it out loud, but it was clear—they had to admit their cousin handled himself better than expected.
A lot better.
The doctor stood frozen near the wall, staring at the nurse's body.
"I didn't expect…" she whispered. "She was with me the whole time."
Sam looked at her grimly. "That doesn't mean anything."
The doctor swallowed hard, the realization finally settling in. If the nurse had been infected without showing it clearly, then no one in River Grove was safe.
"Yeah," Dean said quietly. "This town's gone."
Then a sudden shout echoed from the front entrance of the medical center.
Then came frantic knocking.
The group turned as someone began pounding on the glass doors, hands slamming against them repeatedly.
"Help me! Let me in!"
A young man stood outside, face pale, eyes wide with panic.
Sam stiffened immediately.
"That's Duane Tanner," he said quietly. "The guy I saw in my vision."
Dean's eyes narrowed as he looked through the glass. "The guy I iced in your vision?"
Sam nodded once.
Outside, Duane kept pounding on the door. "Please! Please, I'm not infected! They're all going crazy!"
Amanda hesitated, looking torn. "He's my neighbor's son," she said softly. "But… his family was infected maybe he is also?"
The glass rattled again under Duane's fists.
"So we're not opening that door… right?" Henry asked, eyeing the man warily.
He remembered how this was supposed to unfold. Duane wasn't just another desperate survivor; he was already possessed. This was the demon behind the Croatoan outbreak — the one controlling the infection and orchestrating the entire experiment.
Dean didn't answer immediately. His gaze stayed locked on Duane, studying him for signs—erratic movement, aggression, anything unnatural.
"Please, Doctor Amanda!" Duane cried, pressing his forehead against the glass. "I'm scared! Let me in!"
Sam shifted slightly. "If he's not infected, leaving him out there means he's dead."
"And if he is infected," Dean replied evenly, "opening that door means we all are."
"But we can check him," Sam said. "If he's infected, we deal with it."
Dean hesitated for a second, then moved to the door. He unlocked it, keeping his weapon ready as Duane stumbled inside, breathing hard and looking shaken.
They didn't take chances.
Dean shoved him toward an exam room while Sam grabbed restraints. Within moments Duane was tied to a chair, wrists secured tightly. He protested, voice strained, but didn't resist hard enough to break free.
Dean ignored him. The guy had cuts along his arm, which made the risk of infection high. With the possibility that infected blood had gotten into those wounds, they couldn't take chances. So they tied him up and decided to watch him for a while to see if he started showing any signs of infection.
Henry stayed in the room.
He stood a few feet away, watching Duane carefully. As he thought of a wonderful thing to deal with this demon and situation outside.
*****
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