~*****~

Mary cheered happily as I sat outside the morgue with her. "You're such a sweet baby, yes you are!" I chirp as I kiss at her face. "You know, you saved me from seeing another disgusting body again, yes you did!" Mary's little face split with a wide smile. And I was eating it up. "Thank goodness, mommy isn't going to puke today! You're a life saver!"

Mary gurgled happily and palmed at my cheeks. "C'mon, let's go." Sam said quickly as he rushed past the bench I was sitting on.

"Wha-" I stammer as I stand up. "Dean, what happened?" He's just laughing as he follows after his brother.

"Oh, I'll tell you later." Dean laughs. I glance down at Mary, who's currently chewing on her own fingers. I shrug and follow after them.

The boys are all business today, too. I sit in the waiting room of the police office while Sam and Dean are talking with the sheriff. "So, you're a federal agent?" The desk jockey asks.

"Yes, is that a problem?" I ask irritably. "I couldn't find a baby sitter. Besides, she helps me concentrate."

He holds up his hands as if he's surrendering. Sam and Dean exit, and I get up to follow. "No way that was a heart attack." Dean mentions.

"Definitely no way." Sam says. "Three victims, all with those same red scratches. All went from jittery to terrified to dead within forty-eight hours."

"So something scared them to death?" I ask as I try to keep up. "Would you two slow your freakishly long legs? I got a baby I don't wanna jostle." Sam and Dean slow up a little. I offer the baby to her father and plop her into his arms before he say anything. "All right, so what can do that?"

"What can't?" Dean asks. "Ghosts, Vampires, Chupacabra? It could be a hundred things."

"Yeah," Sam sighs. "So, we make a list and start crossing things off."

"All right, who's the last person to see Frank O'Brien alive?" Dean asks.

I hum. "His neighbor, Mark Hutchins."

"Hang on, hang on-" Dean says quickly.

"What?" I ask irritably.

"I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there." Dean says. I glance over and hum. It was just a couple of boys. I grab Mary from Dean's arms and shoot him a look. "Lottie, let's just walk this way." Dean says. Sam and I share a look.

"You can." I retort before strutting down the street towards the Impala. Just as I expected, none of the boys said a single word as I popped open the Impala's backseat door and leant down to put Mary in her car seat.

~*****~

Normally, I'd keep Mary away from anything potentially dangerous, but this guy had snakes everywhere. They had to be used to humans by now. "Tyler, Perry, and Kramer. Just like Aerosmith." Mark Hutchinson mentions as we all sit on his couch.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, our chief got a kick out of it when we'd all joined." I mentioned irritably. "We've been together for a long time. So, getting back on topic. The last time you saw Frank O'Brien?"

"Monday. He was watching me from his window." Mark mentioned. "I waved at him, but he just closed the curtains.

Sam hummed. "Did you speak to him recently?" Sam asks. "Did he seem different? Scared?"

Mark hummed. "Oh, totally, he was freaking out."

I glanced over at Dean, but he was too busy glancing around the room. "Do you know, uh-- do you know what scared him?" Dean asks.

"Well, yeah, witches." Mark shrugged.

"Witches?" Sam echoes.

I hummed. "Like..." I trail off.

"Well, Wizard of Oz was on the TV the other night, right? And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him." Mark explained.

"Anything else scare him?" I ask.

"Everything else scared him-- Al-Qaeda, Ferrets, artificial sweetener, those pez dispensers with their dead little eyes-- lots of stuff." Mark kept explaining.

I glanced down at Mary and she was gazing up at her father, still chewing on those fingers. And boy did Dean looked freaked. "So, tell me-- what was Frank like?" Sam asked.

Mark didn't answer right away. "I mean, he's dead, you know? I-I don't want to hammer him, but he got better." Mark answers truthfully.

"He got better?" I echo.

"Well, in high school he was-- he was a dick." Mark explained.

"A dick?" Sam echoes.

"Like a bully." Mark clarifies. "I mean, he probably taped half the town's butt cheeks together, mine included." Dean couldn't stop that chuckle that escaped his mouth.

"So, he pissed a lot of people off." Dean quickly said. "You think anyone would have wanted to get revenge?"

"Well, I don't..." Mark trailed off. "Frank had a heart attack, right?"

"Just--" I stop him. "Answer the question, sir."

"No, I don't think so." Mark shook his head. "Like I said, he got better. After what happened to his wife."

"His wife?" I ask. "So he was married."

"She died about twenty years ago. Frank was really broken up about it." Mark explains. Dean gazes at the snake just a little too long, and that makes Mark chuckle. "Don't be scared of Donny. He's a sweetheart. It's Marie you got to look out for. She smells fear."

"Oh, hello-" I hum as I gaze at the yellow Burmese python slowly slinking its way between Dean and I. Marie presses her snout into Mary's cheek, causing the infant to squeal happily before its trek down Dean's leg.

~*****~

Luckily, Dean wanted to stay behind to watch the baby, so, Sam and I were able to go around looking for clues at Frank's house. "Does Dean seem a little... strange today?" I ask Sam as we exit the house.

Sam hummed. "Yeah, a little. I don't know."

I pop open the Impala and raise an eyebrow as Dean flinches upwards from gazing at the file in his lap. "Hey, any luck at the County Clerk's office?" I ask.

"I'm not sure I'd call it luck." Dean mentions. "Frank's wife, Jessie, was a 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."

"Any chance Frank helped her along to the other side?" I ask as I skim over the article.

"No, Frank was working a swing shift when she disappeared." Dean sighs. "Airtight alibi." The engine turns over and Dean starts to drive, and there's immediately something off about it. "How was Frank's pad?"

"Clean." Sam huffs. "Lottie and I searched it top to bottom. No EMF, no hex bags, no sulfer."

"So, probably no ghosts, no witches, no demons." Dean reiterated. "Three down and ninety-seven to go."

I peer over at the speedometer. "Dude, you're going twenty." I mention.

"And?" Dean asks.

"That's... the speed limit." Sam adds.

Dean gave us an offended look. "There's an baby in the back, what is being safe an issue now?"

Sam and I shared a confused expression. And Dean pushed right past our hotel. "Uh, Dean, that was our hotel." I mention.

"Lottie, I'm not gonna make a left-hand turn into oncoming traffic. I'm not suicidal." Dean snaps. I grasp at my bag as it starts making noises. "Did I just say that? That was kinda weird."

"Do you guys hear something?" Sam asks from the bag as I root through the bag.

I tug out the EMF reader. And it's going a mile a minute. I angle it to Dean and it goes off. "Am I haunted?" Dean asks in a panicked tone. "Am I haunted?!"

Sam and I share another confused look.

~*****~

"Okay, Bobby, I'll keep looking." Sam sighed as I ripped a piece off of a donut to give to the fussy infant in my arms.

"Is that... Eye of the Tiger?" I ask Sam as we move towards the room.

"Oh, my god." Sam grumbled. We turned our gazes onto the car, and there's Dean, having a personal concert. We gaze into the window as he drums to the beat in the air. Sam slaps on the hood, spooking Dean to an upright position.  "Dude-" Dean huffed as he stepped out of the car. "Look at this." He holds out his arm and the red marks that were on all the victims are on Dean's arm.

"I just talked to Bobby." Sam says.

"And?"

Sam hummed. "Well, you're not gonna like it." Sam explains. Dean tosses the box of donuts into the car, and the baby began to whine. "It's ghost sickness."

"Ghost sickness." Dean echoes. Sam nods. "Oh, god, no."

"Yeah," Sam sighs as I fish the box of donuts back out.

"I don't even know what that is." Dean admits.

I rip another donut up for the baby. "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. Symptoms are you get anxious, and scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out." Dean just looks at me. "Sound familiar?"

"Yeah, but we haven't seen a ghost in weeks." Dean retorts.

"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." I reiterate. "No, Frank O'Brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient Zero."

"Our very own outbreak monkey." Dean adds in.

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

"Were they gamecocks?" Dean asks.

"Corn jerkers."

"So, ghosts infected Frank, he passed it on to the other guys, and I got it from his corpse?"

"Right." Sam nods.

"So now, what, I have forty-eight house before I go insane and my heart stops?" Dean asks.

"More like twenty-four." I trail off.

"Super!"

"Yeah," I nod.

"Well, why me? Why not you?" Dean asks Sam. "I mean, you got hit with the spleen juice."

"Yeah, I had a question about that, too," I shrug. "You see, Sam, Bobby, and I have a theory about that. Turns out all three victims shared a certain personality type." Dean raises his eyebrows, as if urging me to continue. "Frank was a bully. The other two victims-- one was a vice principle, the other was a bouncer."

"Okay?"

"Basically, they were all dicks." I state.

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

"Not necessarily." I hum. "All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favor."

"I don't scare people." Dean retorts.

"Dean, all we do is scare people." Sam mentions.

"Okay, well, then that means you two are dicks, too!" Dean accuses us.

"Apparently, not." I retort.

"Whatever! How do we stop it?" Dean asks.

"We gank the ghost that started all this." I explain. "We do that, the disease should clear up."

"You're thinking Frank's wife?"

"Maybe?" Sam shrugs. "I mean, who knows why she killed herself, you know?"

"What are you doing waiting out here, anyway?" I ask.

Dean glances up at the hotel before glancing back at us. "Our rooms on the fourth floor." Sam and I share a confused look before shrugging. "It's-- It's high."

Sam scoffs. "I'll see if I can move us down to the first." Sam retorts.

"Thanks." Dean says in an almost cute tone.