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Molly was nurse at St. Johns hospital in Springfield, Missouri, a medium sized mid-western city in the United States. She was in her mid-twenties, short, blonde, then envy of many other nurses in the hospital, and a catch for both other employees and patients. Not a day in her life had she not be thrown a line, nor had she ever bought her own drinks. But she wasn't too proud, or arrogant. Molly had gone into the medical field with the hopes of bettering the world. An idealistic young girl with ambitions that exceeded even her looks.
As she walked down the hall of the east wing on the forth floor making her usual rounds another nurse, Carrie, wheeling a gurney with a sickly looking man on it, called out to her, "Hey Molly, can I get a hand over here?" Molly rushed forth, coming to Carrie's aid. "Dr. Spektor asked me to meet him in room 013, but then this guy came in. Would you mind getting him in a room and taken care of while I go see what the doctor need?"
"Sure," laughed Molly. Carrie wasn't aware that Molly knew that her and Dr. Spektor just wanted some "alone time." She was happy to oblige though, seeing as a happy doctor meant an easier job.
"So, what's your name sir?" she asked the man on the gurney, trying to be polite and keep him at ease. The man was hardly conscious though, and she figured it'd just be best to take him to his room and give him a basic once over before handing him over to the doctor.
Molly looked down at the man, and started to worry about him. He looked noticeably worse than he did minutes before when she first took care of him. His flesh was a grey-ish color, and he had beads of sweat all along his forehead and face. He was breathing really hard, stirring slightly, and just making some sort of noise that was almost a cough, but like he couldn't even get the strength to do that. Molly wondered why the man was not in the ER, and started jogging to the room. Unsafe as it was, she was really worried about the man.
Quickly, she arrived at his room, and with all haste attached him to an oxygen tank, just for temporary use while she went to get help. As Molly turned to leave she heard nothing. There should have been noticeable breathing noises due to the oxygen tank, however said noises were absent. She did a one-hundred eighty degree turn, and cautiously stepped towards the man. She was correct. His breathing had stopped.
"No," Molly whispered to herself, not wanting to believe that she just wasn't fast enough to save the man. Putting two fingers two the far side of throat, where one would feel a pulse, Molly felt nothing. Clasping one of her hands on the other, she began to press his chest, up and down, several times, then stopped to give mouth to mouth resuscitation. Nothing. Molly began pounding his chest again, but to no avail. She leaned in, about to press her lips on his when suddenly the man rose up. Molly jumped back then jumped up in a sort of victory dance, not even noticing he was no longer a man.
"Sir! I'm going to go get help right away! You're in no condition to move around," Molly was saying, worried about the "man" who just moments before had narrowly escaped death, who now was shambling towards her. "Sir, please, lie back down, I'll go get the doctor." The "man" kept coming closer though, and then let our an eerie moan, sending shivers down the beautiful nurses spine. Molly mustered up the courage to walk over to him, trying to reason with the man to get him to lie back down on his bed, a fatal mistake.
As she tried, and failed, to escort the "man" back to the bed, it rushed her, grasping at her throat and shoulder, moaning that same eerie, emotionless moan. Then, the monster sunk its teeth into her neck, jugular vein being ripped from the inside out. Molly barely had time to scream.
Sam and Dean Winchester were in St. Johns Hospital looking after an injured girl they had just saved from demons on a previous hunt. This is the story with their first brush-up against bio-terrorism.