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| 2x14 - Born Under a Bad Sign https://foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?f=105&t=6596 |
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| Author: | bunniefuu [ 03/25/13 13:00 ] |
| Post subject: | Supernatural Transcript~ Born Under a Bad Sign 2x14 |
2.14 Born Under a Bad Sign Air Date: 8 Feb 2007 Teaser EXT. UNDERPASS - DAY Dean is on his cell phone, leaning against his car. He is fidgeting, clearly upset. Dean: Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him? (beat) I swear, it's like looking for my dad all over again. I'm losing my mind here. (beat) No, I've called him a thousand times, there's nothing but voicemail. I don't know where he went, or why. Sam's just gone. (his cell phone beeps) Hang on. (the phone shows another incoming call - Sam's CELL. He answers it.) Sammy? Where the hell are you? Are you okay? (beat) Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Where are you? All right, don't move, I'm on my way. INT. MOTEL - DAY Sam hangs up the phone slowly, looking numb. His knuckles are bloody. Dean drives to reach Sam, passing a sign reading TWIN LAKES; he arrives at the hotel and parks, gets out. INT. MOTEL - DAY Dean walks frantically down a narrow hallway, checking door numbers until he reaches room 109. He knocks. Dean: Sam, it's me. Sam! He tries the door - it's open. Inside, Sam hasn't moved, still sitting numbly on one bed. Dean: Sam? Hey. Sam: Hey, Dean. Dean: (kneeling beside him) Are you bleeding? Sam: I tried to wash it off. Dean: (seeing Sam's shirt covered in blood; he gropes at it, searching for a wound.) Oh my god. Sam: I don't think it's my blood. Dean: Whose is it? Sam: I don't know. Dean: Sam, what the hell happened? Sam: (finally looking up) Dean. I don't remember anything. TITLE CARD: SUPERNATURAL END Teaser ACT ONE INT. MOTEL ROOM - DAY Dean returns to the room, carrying a grocery bag. Sam has changed clothes and is looking a little less out of it. Sam: What'd you find out? Dean: You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora. Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan, Sam: Dean. Dean: Your room's been quiet, nobody's noticed anything unusual. Sam: You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood? Dean: Yeah. That's what I mean. Sam: Then how the hell did I get here, Dean? What happened to me? Dean: I don't know. But you're, you're okay, and that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with. Sam: Oh really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse? Dean: Sam . . . Sam: What if this is what Dad warned you about? Dean: Hey, whoa, whoa, come on man, let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened. We've just got to treat this like, like any other job. What's the last thing you remember? Sam: (sitting) Just me and you, just, in that motel room in West Texas, going out to grab some burgers, and... Dean: West Texas? That was, that was over a week ago. Sam: That's it. (Dean looks stunned) Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month. Dean: Okay. Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so, (pulling back the curtain, he finds a bloody fingerprint on the window) Hey. EXT. MOTEL - DAY Sam and Dean walk outside the motel. It's daylight, but raining. Dean: Recognize anything? Sam: Not really. (they go towards a parking garage out back) Wait. Dean: What? Sam: I think I was here. Dean: You remember? Sam: Not really, it just feels familiar, you know? (Dean shrugs, goes to the nearest garage. Sam looks over to the second, points.) Try that one. Yeah. Dean: (tugging on the padlock) Okay. Sam: Wait. Sam digs in his pocket, frowning. He pulls out a key, gives Dean a significant look. Dean opens the padlock with the key, raising his eyebrows at Sam. He pulls the garage door open to reveal a filthy, beat-up VW Beetle. Dean: Oh, please tell me you didn't steal this. Sam fidgets. They go into the garage and open both doors of the car, Sam on the driver's side. He touches the wheel, shows Dean his stained finger. Sam: More blood. Dean: (pointing) Sam. Back seat. Sam reaches down, picks up a blood-stained knife that sticks to the floor of the backseat. He stares at it. Sam: You think I used this on someone? Dean: (pause) I'm not thinking anything. Sam looks around, rubs the knife handle off on the inside of his jacket. Dean picks up a pack of cigarettes. Dean: Okay now, this is disturbing. Come on, man, this couldn't have been you. Had to have been someone else, someone who, (sniffs the pack) smokes menthols. Sam: Here. Gas receipt. Few towns over. EXT. GAS STATION - DAY Sam and Dean pull up in front of a small gas station. Dean: All right. Receipt's for ten gallons at pump number two. You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? God, this looks familiar, deja vu vibes? (Sam shakes his head quietly) Maybe someone inside will remember you. Come on. They go into the convenience store; the clerk looks up in shock, then anger. Clerk: You. Outta here now, I'm calling the cops. Dean: You talking to him? Clerk: Yeah, I'm talking to him. Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging it. Dean: This guy? You're drinking malt liquor? Clerk: Not after he whipped the friggin' bottle at my head. Dean: This guy? Clerk: What, am I speaking Urdu? Sam: Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything, Clerk: Tell your story walkin', pal. Po-po will be here in five. Dean: Wait, wait, put the phone down. Sam, go wait in the car. Sam: But Dean, Dean: Go wait in the car! (Sam sighs, leaves) Okay, look, man. I just want to talk to you, that's it. Okay? (The clerk hangs up) Now, when he took off yesterday, where did he go? Clerk: Why don't you ask him? Dean: 'Cause I'm asking you. Now please, you'd be doing me a huge favor. Clerk: Oh, do you a favor? Well, that is what I live for. You know, your buddy didn't pay for the booze. Okay? Or the smokes, which he also illegally lit up. Dean: You saw him smoking? Clerk: Yeah. Guy's a chimney. Dean clears his throat and pulls his wallet out, places some bills on the desk. Dean: This, uh, ought to cover it. Clerk: Hmm. It's, uh, it's coming back to me now. He took two packs. Dean: (pulls out more money) Of course he did. Clerk: He went north. Route 71, straight out of town. Dean nods, grabs two candy bars and leaves with a smirk. EXT. ROAD - NIGHT Dean is driving down a dark road, and Sam is staring out the window. Dean: What's going on with you, Sam? Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like me than you. Sam: Dean, wait, right here. Turn down that road. Dean: What? Sam: I don't know how I know, I just do. Dean turns down a back road and onto a private property. It is a large house with plenty of emergency lighting and security cameras outside. Sam: Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises. Dean: Should we knock? Sam: Yeah, I guess. Dean knocks on the front door while Sam pokes around the corner. Sam: Hey Dean. Sam waves his flashlight at a window; it is broken, the ledge covered in shattered glass. Dean: I'm surprised the cops didn't show. Place like this you'd think it'd have an alarm. Sam: (finding a disabled alarm on the wall) Yeah, you would. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT They go into the house; the floor is covered in broken glass and scattered items. In a back room, they come across a body on the floor. Dean: Get the lights. Sam turns the lights on as Dean kneels behind the body. He places a hand on it and turns it over; it is a middle-aged man with a deeply cut throat; he is dead, his eyes staring. Dean puts a hand over his own mouth; Sam looks horrified. Sam: Dean, I did this. Dean: We don't know that. Sam: What else do you need? I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood, Dean: I don't know, man, why don't you tell me? (beat) Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a good reason; you know, self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something. (he pats down the body) He doesn't have any ID. Sam: I need your lockpick. Dean: What? Sam: I need your lockpick. Sam takes the lockpick and opens a double-door closet in the room. Inside the room, one wall is covered in firearms, the others in charts and clippings. Dean: either this guy's a Unabomber, Sam: Or a hunter. Dean, I think I killed a hunter. Dean: (seeing a security camera near the ceiling) Let's find out. LATER, Sam is sitting in front of the desktop computer, Dean standing behind. He cues up the security tape. Dean: Here we go. On the tape, Sam is fighting the Same man who lies dead on the floor behind them. The fight moves off camera and Sam drags the man back into the frame; he kneels, the man pulled up against his legs, and slits his throat. Sam stares in shock as Dean pulls back from the screen and stands straight. Close on Sam, eyes downcast. END ACT ONE ACT TWO Sam is sitting at the computer desk, staring at a page in his hand; Dean bustles around behind him, cleaning up. Dean: How do you erase this? Huh? Sam, come on, I need your help. Sam: I killed him, Dean. I just broke in and killed him. Dean: Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay? Sam: His name was Steve Wandell. This is a letter from his daughter. Dean looks from Sam to the letter, then makes a decision. He grabs the CPU, lifts it above his head, and smashes it to the floor, stomping it with his boots for good measure. Dean: Wipe your prints, then we go. INT. Motel Room - EVENING Sam precedes Dean into the motel room. Dean: All right, we get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror. Look, I know this is bad, okay? You've gotta snap out of it. Sam, say something! Sam: Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder, Dean. That's what I did. Dean: Maybe. (Sam scoffs) Okay? Hey, we don't know... shapeshifter! Sam: Oh, come on. You know it wasn't, you saw the tape. There was no eye flare, no distortion, Dean: Yeah, but it wasn't you! All right? I mean, yeah, it might have been you, but it wasn't you. Sam: Well, I think it was. (He sits down on the bed) I think maybe more than you know. Dean: What the hell does that mean? Sam: For the last few weeks I've been having... I've been having these feelings. Dean: What feelings? Sam: Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it. It just gets worse. Day by day it gets worse. Dean: You never told me this. Sam: I didn't want to scare you. Dean: Well, bang-up job on that. Sam: Dean, the yellow-eyed demon, you know he has plans for me. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too. Dean: No one can control you but you. Sam: It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean, it feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely I'm, I'm just becoming... Dean: What? Sam: Who I'm meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself, Dean. I gotta face up to who I am. Dean: I didn't mean this! Sam: But it's still true. You know that. Dad knew that too, that's why he told you, if it ever came to this . . . Dean: Shut up, Sam. Sam: Dean, you promised him. You promised me. Dean: No. Listen to me. We're going to figure this out. Okay? I mean, there's got to be a way, right? Sam: Yeah, there is. (he takes a handgun from his duffel, shoves it at Dean) I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt you. Dean: You won't. Whatever this is, you can fight it. Sam: (tearing up) No. I can't. Not forever. Here, you gotta do it. They stare at each other for a long moment; then Sam grabs Dean's right hand and places the gun in it. Dean doesn't move, just stares as Sam in shock. Dean: You know, I've tried to hard to keep you safe. Sam: (nodding) I know. Dean: I can't. I'd rather die. Dean drops the gun on the bed and shoulders past Sam. Sam: No. You'll live. (picks up the gun as Dean turns to face him) You'll live to regret this. He pistol-whips Dean, who falls to the floor unconscious. BLACKOUT An insistent knocking begins during the blackout. Dean awakens to realize that he is on the floor of the motel room; the motel manager, who has been knocking, opens the door. Manager: Hey. It's past your checkout. Dean: (getting up, very groggy) What? Manager: It's past checkout, and I've got a couple here needs your room. Dean: (seeing an embarrassed businessman with a hooker) Yeah, I'll bet they do. What time is it? Manager: Twelve-thirty. Dean: That guy who was with me, have you seen him? Manager: Yeah, he left before dawn in your car, and you should have gone with him, because now I'm going to have to charge you extra. Dean: (muttering) Oh, son of a... Manager: It's just policy, sir. Dean: I need to use your computer. Manager: Now, why would I let you use my computer? INT. MOTEL LOBBY - DAY The Manager is counting a stack of cash, as Dean talks on the phone behind him, in front of a desktop computer. Dean: Hi, uh, so sorry to bother you, but uh, my son snuck out of the house last night and, uh, went to a Justin Timberlake concert. (pause) What? Yeah. No, Justin is quite the triple threat. Uh, anyway, he's not back yet, and, and I'm just, I'm starting to worry. (pause) Right. Yeah, boys will be boys. But see, Sammy is a diabetic, and uh, if he doesn't get his insulin, I just, I have to find him. Please, I'm begging you. Yeah, no, no, no, I"m on the web site right now, I just need to activate the GDS in his cell phone. (entering a password) Yeah, right there. Duluth, Minnesota. Yeah, that is a long way to go for a concert. I appreciate your help. INT. Jo's BAR - NIGHT Jo, her back to us, is scrubbing the bar and saying goodnight to some customers. Jo: Good night, thank you. Sam enters and clears his throat. Jo: (her back to him) Sorry, we're closing up. Sam: How about just one for the road? Jo: (turning to face him) Well, you're about the last person I'd expect to see. Sam: Well, I guess I'm full of surprises. So can I get a beer? Jo: Sure. One beer. Jo brings a bottle of beer over and sets it down on the bar firmly, then turns away, bustling over cleaning up the bar. Jo: So how'd you find me? Sam: Well, uh, it's kind of what we do, you know? Jo: Speaking of 'we', where's Dean? Sam: Couldn't make it. Jo: So what are you doing here, Sam? I mean, we didn't exactly part on the best of terms. Sam: Right. Um, well, that's why I'm here. I kind of, I wanted to see if we could square things, you know? As Sam takes off his jacket, Jo notices a circular burn mark with a short line through it on Sam's forearm. Jo: That looks like it hurts. Sam: No. No, just, just had a run-in with a hot stove. Jo: So you were saying something about squaring things? Sam: Yeah. Um. Look, I know how you feel about my dad. And I can't say I blame you. He was obsessed. consumed with hunting; and he didn't care who got caught in the cross-fire. And I guess that included your dad. But that was my father, that's not me. Jo: What about Dean? Sam: Well, Dean's more like my father than I am, but . . . (off Jo's look) Boy. You're really carrying a torch for him, aren't you? (Jo scoffs, uncomfortably) I'll take that as a yes. It's too bad. 'Cause see, Dean, he likes you, sure, but not in the way you'd want. I mean, maybe as kind of a . . . a little sister, you know? But romance — that's just out of the question, he (LAUGHS) he kind of thinks you're a schoolgirl, you know? (pause) I'm not trying to hurt you, Jo, I, I'm telling you because I care. Jo: Well, that's real kind of you, Sam. Sam: I mean it. (he places a hand over hers on the bar, possessively) I care about you a lot. Jo: Sam, what's going on? Sam: I can be more to you, Jo. Jo: Maybe you should leave. Sam: Okay. He shoves her hand away and stands to leave; she turns to face the bar, leaning on it heavily. Suddenly Sam reappears, grabbing her from behind and manhandling her. Jo: Sam, get off me! Sam, get off me! Sam! She closes her right hand on a beer bottle, but before she can hit him with it he grabs her wrist and slams it onto the bar, shattering the bottle. Sam: Jo, Jo, Jo. He shoves her around until she faces the bar and pins her there, left hand over her wrist, right hand stroking her hair. Jo: Sam, no, no! Please! Please! He slams her forehead into the bar; she is knocked out, and he lifts her carefully to lie on the bar, stroking her hair in a disturbingly gentle manner. Sam: It didn't have to be this way. Or maybe it did. END ACT TWO ACT THREE INT. BAR - NIGHT A clunky record player switches on and starts playing The Doors' "Crystal Ship". Nearby, Sam is tying Jo in a sitting position to a wide wooden post. She slowly wakes up. Jo: What the hell is going on? What are you doing? Sam: So what exactly did your mom tell you about how your dad died? Jo: You're not Sam. Sam: Don't be so sure about that. Answer the question. Jo says nothing; Sam sighs heavily and goes around to the other side; he sits in front of her, leaning in, his expression shifting to one of open concern. He pulls out a large knife and strokes her face with it. Sam: Come on. It's me. You can tell me anything, you know that. Answer. The question. Jo: Fine. Sam: Fine. Jo: Our dads were in California: Devil's Gate Reservoir. They were setting a trap for some kind of Hell spawn. John was hiding, waiting, and my dad was bait. Sam: (laughs) That's just like John. Oh, I'll bet he dangled Bill like meat on a hook. Then what? He gets up and goes around to stand behind her. Jo: The thing showed up. John got too eager, jumped out too soon, got my dad exposed out in the open. The thing turned around and killed him. Sam: (leaning in) Hmm. Not quite. Jo: What? Sam: What? Oh. See, it hurt him. It didn't kill him. You really don't know the truth, do you? I'll bet your mom doesn't either. Sam sits facing her again, leans in close. Jo: Know what? Sam: You see, Bill was all clawed up. Holding his insides in his hands. He was gurgling and praying to see you and Ellen one more time. So my dad . . . killed him. Put him out of his misery like a sick dog. Jo: You're lying. Sam: I'm not, it's true. (quiet singsong) My daddy shot your daddy in the head . . . Jo: How could you know that? Sam: I hear things. He stands and stabs the knife into the pillar, just above head level. Jo: Why are you doing this to me? Sam: Like Daddy like daughter. You're bait. Open up. (he shoves a knotted rag in her mouth and ties it around her neck) That's a girl. The door bursts open and Dean enters, gun out. Dean: Sam! Sam grabs the knife from the pillar, his calm expression shifting to one of desperate panic, and places the knife at Jo's throat. Sam: I begged you to stop me, Dean. Dean: Put the knife down, damnit. Sam: I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right?! Dean. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You've be doing me a favor! Shoot me. (turning to face Dean, arms spread) Shoot me! Dean: No, Sammy, come on. He turns away, lowering the gun. Sam: What the hell's wrong with you, Dean? Are you that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Jo die? Dean turns suddenly, flinging water from a flask at Sam; the water hisses and steams as it strikes him. Dean: That's holy water, you demonic son of a bitch! Sam raises his head; his eyes are the solid black of a demon's. Dean flings more holy water at him; Sam growls, turns and runs, bursting through a window and fleeing. Dean takes the knife and cuts Jo free; she pulls the gag out of her mouth as Dean runs towards the shattered window. Jo: He was possessed?! (Dean turns and stares at her for a moment, then leaps through the window.) Dean! INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT Dean and Possessed-Sam stalk each other through a dim, crowded warehouse, each with a handgun. During the following they never see each other directly, instead hiding stealthily behind piles and boxes and shouting at each other. Dean: So who are you? Sam: I got lots of names. Dean: You've been in Sam since he disappeared, haven't you? Sam: You should have seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic. Dean: Why didn't you kill me? You had a dozen chances. Sam: No, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that? See, this was a test. Wanted to see if I could push you far enough to waste Sam. Should have known you wouldn't have the sac. Anyway. Fun's over now. Dean: Well, I hope you got your kicks. Because you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that. Sam: How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother. See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and every other hunter I can find. One look as Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door. Possessed-Sam leads Dean outside, to an open-air dock. Once he's out in the open, looking around, Sam steps out, takes aim, and shoots Dean, hitting him in the shoulder. Dean collapses into the water with a splash; Sam stalks to the edge and peers over where Dean fell; he smiles. END ACT THREE ACT FOUR EXT. DOCKS - NIGHT Jo is walking quickly through the docks, a flashllight in one hand and her cell phone in the other; she's calling Dean, and his voicemail picks up: Dean's Voice This is Dean. Leave a message. Jo hangs up the phone with a sigha nd continues searching. Moments later she calls again, and this time hears Dean's ringtone coming from below her, by the water. She runs down to where he is lying unconscious at the bottom of a ramp. Jo: Dean! Dean! (he wakes with a groan) Take it easy. Dean: (shuddering and groaning in pain) Where's Sam? Jo: I don't know, I've been looking for you. Come on, get up. She helps him to stand, and he leans on her heavily, clutching his shoulder, as they walk back to the bar. INT. BAR - NIGHT Dean is seated at a table, gripping the edge with his right hand as Jo digs the bullet out of his left shoulder. He's groaning loudly. Jo: Don't be a baby! Dean: God! Jo: Almost. All right, got it. Got it. She drops the bloodstained bullet in a glass of clear alcohol. Dean takes a few healthy swigs from a bottle of whiskey. Dean: God, you're a butcher. Jo: (sarcastically) You're welcome. Dean: All right, are we done? Jo: Would you give me two minutes to patch you up? You can't help Sam if you're bleeding to death. (she continues layering gauze and tape over the wound) So, how did you know? That he was possessed? Dean: Uh, I didn't, I just knew that it couldn't have been him. Jo: Hey, Dean. Dean: Yeah? Jo: I know demons lie, but do they ever tell the truth too? Dean: Uh, um, yeah, sometimes, I guess. Especially if they know it'll mess with your head. Why do you ask? Jo: Nothing. Doesn't matter. So do you have any idea where he's headed to next? Dean: Well, so far he's been going after the nearest hunter, so . . . closest one I know lives in South Dakota. Jo: Okay good, I'm done. Let's go. Dean: Yeah. You're not coming. Jo: The hell I'm not. I'm a part of this now. Dean: I can't say it more plain than this. You try to follow me and I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here. This is my fight. I'm not getting your blood on my hands. That's just how it's gonna be. Jo: Wait. (he turns back, and she hands out a prescription pill bottle.) Here. Take these, they'll help with the pain. Dean: Thanks. I'll call you later, okay? Jo: (to herself, after Dean is gone) No you won't. EXT. ROAD - NIGHT It's raining as Dean drives down a dark stretch of road; he dials a number on his cell. ELSEWHERE, a phone rings several times, until Sam's hands come into frame and cut the phone line running outside the house. Dean looks at his phone and sighs. Dean: Damnit. EXT. HOUSE - NIGHT Sam walks slowly up the steps to the house and knocks on the door. It's opened to reveal: Bobby: (grinning) Sam! Sam: Hey, Bobby. Bobby: It's been a while. (Sam grins sheepishly) Well, come on in. Sam enters slowly, glancing at the ceiling, and Bobby shuts the door behind him. They walk together into Bobby's study, which is dimly lit and covered wall to wall with stacks of books and papers. Bobby: So what brings you? Sam: Working a job nearby, and thought I'd stop in and say hey. Bobby Well, where's Dean? Sam: (laughs) Holed up somewhere with a girl and a twelve pack. Bobby goes into the back room; Sam, left alone, eyes the ceiling again. Bobby: (off screen) Oh yeah? She pretty? Sam: (his eyes cloud over black for a moment) You ask me, he's in way over his head. Bobby returns with a beer in each hand; he hands one to Sam. Bobby: Well, it's good to see you. (raising his bottle) To John. Sam: To Dad. They toast and swig the beer, Sam turning to look up at the ceiling again; as he swallows the beer he chokes suddenly, falling to his hands and knees and hiss-coughing painfully. Bobby sips his beer, unconcerned. Sam: What'd you do?! Bobby: A little holy water in the beer. Sam never would have noticed. But then, you're not Sam are you. Don't try to con a con man. He slams his fist into Sam's face, knocking him out. LATER, Sam-demon is tied to a chair, before a fire and under the very Same protective circle used in "Devil's Trap" on Meg-demon. Dean smacks him in the face to wake him. Dean: Hey. Sam looks up, sees the painted Devil's Trap. Sam: Dean. back from the dead. Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach. Dean: How about I smack that smartass right out of your mouth? Sam: Oh, careful, now. Wouldn't want to bruise this fine packaging. Dean: Oh don't worry, this isn't gonna hurt Sam much. (turns to pick up a bucket) You, on the other hand, Dean tosses a bucketful of holy water on Sam-demon, who sizzles and screams. Dean: Feel like talking now? Sam: Sam's still my meat puppet. I'll make him bite off his tongue. Dean: No, you won't be in him long enough. Bobby. Bobby: (reading in Latin) ExorciSamus te, omnes in mundus spiritus omnes satanica potestas, omnes incursio ... (continues) Dean: (talking over Bobby) See, whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cooking up? You're not getting Sam. You understand me? Because I'm gonna kill every one of you first. Sam-demon struggles painfully, then throws back his head and cackles. Bobby cuts off in surprise. Sam: You really think that's what this is about? The master plan? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan. Bobby: Humiliares sub potente magnu dei... Sam: Oops. Doesn't seem to be working. See, I learned a few new tricks. (he lowers his head and begins growling Latin) [i]Spiritus in mundus un glorum suarum umitite palatum iram domine ... [i](continues) The fire behind him flares and the room shakes as he continues. Dean: This isn't going like I pictured! What's going on, Bobby? Bobby: (seeing the burn mark on Sam's forearm) It's a binding link! It's like a lock! He's locked himself inside Sam's body! Dean: What the hell do we do? Bobby: I don't know! Sam throws back his head and screams; the shaking walls and ceilings begin to crack, breaking the protective circle. Sam-demon's eyes are black as he lowers his head. Sam: There. That's better. He jerks his head left; Bobby goes flying. He jerks his head right; Dean goes flying, landing heavily against the far wall. The holy water flask falls from Dean's hand. Sam rips free of the restraints and stalks over to Dean. Sam: You know when people want to describe the worse possible thing? They say it's like hell. Sam kneels in front of Dean, fisting his left hand in Dean's shirt and clocking him hard with a right jab. Dean grabs onto Sam's shirt with his right hand. Sam: You know there's a reason for that. Hell is like, um, (he hits Dean again) Well, it's like hell. Even for demons. (hits him again; Dean is groggy and bleeding heavily from his nose) It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear; (hits him again; then grabs Dean's head, holding it steady) And you sent me back there. Dean: (sneering) Meg. Sam: No. Not anymore. Now I'm Sam. (hits him one last time; then digs his right thumb into Dean's bullet wound) By the way. I saw your Dad there - he says "howdy". (he digs in further; Dean tries to pull Sam's hand away, groaning in pain) All that I had to hold onto was that I would climb out one day, and that I was going to torture you, nice and slow. Like pulling the wings off an insect. (he shoves Dean's grasping hand away) But whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you'll do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. You couldn't save your Dad, and deep down you know that you can't save your brother. They'd have been better off without you. Sam rears back to hit Dean again; suddenly Bobby is there, grabbing Sam's arm. He presses a hot poker into the mark on Sam's arm; he screams in pain, then again as black demon smoke billows out of him and up the chimney. Sam falls back, scrabbling and looking around in confusion, then grabs his arm in sudden pain. Dean pulls himself up painfully. Dean: Sammy? Sam: Did I miss anything? Dean rears back and right-hooks Sam in the cheek, then rolls his eyes and collapses. Sam grabs his cheek in confusion. END ACT FOUR ACT FIVE INT. Bobby's HOUSE - NIGHT Sam is sitting behind Bobby's table with an icepack on his arm, Dean is on the other side of the table groggily holding an icebag to his face. Sam: (cautiously) By the way, you really look like crap, Dean. Dean: Yeah, right back atcha. Bobby walks in slowly, looking concerned. Sam: What is it, Bobby? Bobby: You boys ever hear of a hunter named Steve Wandell? Dean: Why do you ask? Bobby: Just heard from a friend. Wandell's dead. Murdered in his own house. You wouldn't know anything about that. Dean: No sir, never heard of the guy. Sam: Dean. Bobby: Good. Keep it that way. Wandell's buddies are looking for someone or something to string up, and they're not going to slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying? Dean: We'd better hit the road. If, uh, you can remember where we parked the car. Bobby: Here. Take these. He hands each of them a small metal charm. Sam: What are they? Bobby: Charms. They'll fend off possession. That demon's still out there; this'll stop it from getting back up in you. Dean: That sounds vaguely dirty, but uh, thanks. Bobby: You're welcome. You boys be careful now. Sam: You too. At the door, Dean tosses the icebag back to Bobby. EXT. ROAD - NIGHT Dean is driving down a dark stretch of highway; over the following scene, REO Speedwagon's "Back on the Road Again" plays. Sam is frowning quietly, and Dean glances over in concern. Dean: You okay? Sam? Is that you in there? Sam: I was awake for some of it, Dean. I watched myself kill Wandell with my own two hands; I saw the light go out in his eyes. Dean: That must have been awful. Sam: That's not my point. I almost carved up Jo too. But no matter what I did, you wouldn't shoot. Dean: It was the right move, Sam, it wasn't you. Sam: Yeah, this time. What about next time? Dean: Sam, when Dad told me that I might have to kill you, it was only if I couldn't save you. Now, if it's the last thing I do I'm going to save you. After a pause, Dean laughs softly. Sam: What? Dean: Nothing. Sam: Dean, what? Dean: Dude, you, you like, full-on had a girl inside you for like a whole week. (laughs) That's pretty naughty. Sam's frown cracks, and he laughs with Dean. END EPISODE transcript by gelasius March 2007 |
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