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5.05 Fallen Idols
Air Date: 8 Oct 2009
THEN
Dean: You chose a demon over your own brother. I just don't think I can trust you.
You think I'll take one look at a demon and suddenly fall off the wagon.
As if, after everything-
I haven't learned my lesson.
Dean: Well, have you?
Sam shoves Dean into the wall.
Sam: I know you don't trust me.
Dean: So what are you saying?
Sam: Maybe it's best we just go our separate ways.
Dean: Well, I think you're right.
You know who I am.
Lucifer.
Lucifer: You're the one, Sam. You're my vessel.
Sam: That'll never happen.
Zachariah: You're the Michael sword.
Dean: What do you mean, I'm the sword?
Zachariah: You're Michael's weapon.
Dean: I'm a vessel?
Zachariah: You're the[i]vessel.
You want back in.
Sam: I won't let you down.
Dean: Oh, I know it.
NOW
[i]INT. GARAGE - NIGHT
The lights flick on and two MEN, JIM and CAL, enter.
JIM
All right, buddy, what's so important you couldn't tell me over the phone?
CAL
Trust me, Jim. It's important.
CAL leads JIM over to a car covered in a sheet. CAL stops, looking to JIM in excitement.
JIM
Wait a minute, you're not...you're not telling me that this is-
CAL
Yep.
JIM
You found it?
CAL pulls the sheet off the car, revealing a silver convertible Porsche, labeled "Little Bastard". JIM sighs and Chuckles in awe. JIM shakes his head.
JIM
You found it. Huh.
CAL folds up the sheet and tosses it aside as JIM inspects the car closer.
JIM
Oh my God! You sure?
CAL
VIN numbers match.
JIM
How much you pay?
CAL
A lot.
JIM
Come on, how much?
CAL Chuckles.
CAL
A lot.
JIM
I bet. Wow.
JIM whistles. CAL opens the door and gets into the driver's seat.
JIM
Wow. You start her up yet?
CAL
Been waiting for you.
JIM
Yeah, waiting to rub my nose in it, right?
CAL
Exactly.
He puts his hand on the ignition key.
JIM
Whoa, whoa, wait, wait, wait. We need to record this for posterity's sake.
CAL
Great idea.
JIM
Yeah, great idea.
JIM Chuckles.
JIM
Oh, man.
JIM hurries off back into the house. CAL's face drops when he breathes out and notices his breath condense in front of him. Suddenly, the car's radio flicks on of its own volition and jumps rapidly through the stations. CAL tries to correct it with the knobs, but it doesn't work. In the house, JIM finds a video camera and adjusts the settings. He hears tires screeching in the garage, then glass breaking.
JIM
Cal? Cal?
He walks back into the garage, video camera held up, recording, but the car is blocked by some shelves.
JIM
Hey, you all right, man? I thought I heard something. Cal? Is something wrong?
He walks around to the front of the car, still recording, then stops dead and lowers the camera.
JIM
Oh my God, Cal.
The windshield, coated in CAL's blood, is embedded halfway through his skull. JIM screams.
JIM
Cal!
CAL's blood runs down the hood and drips onto the Porsche insignia and "Little Bastard" decal.
ACT ONE
Impala
EXT. ROAD - NIGHT
The Impala drives along an empty road.
"FALLEN IDOLS"
INT. Impala - NIGHT
Starring
JARED PADALECKI
Sam: So-
Sam Chuckles.
JENSEN ACKLES
Sam: -what's with this job?
Dean: Dude suffers a head-on collision in a parked car? I'd say that's worth checking out.
Sam: Yeah, definitely, uh, but, uh, we got bigger problems, don't you think?
Dean: I'm sure the apocalypse'll still be there when we get back.
A pause.
Sam: Right, yeah, but I mean, if-if the Colt is really out there somewhere-
Dean: Hey, we've been looking for three weeks, we got bupkis.
Sam: Okay. But Dean...I mean, if we're gonna-ice the Devil-
Dean: This is what we're doing! Okay? End of discussion.
Sam looks away and sighs. A long pause.
Dean: It's just that this is our first real case, back at it together. You know, I, I think we oughta ease into it, put the training wheels back on.
Sam: So you think I need training wheels.
Dean: No, 'we'. 'We' need training wheels, you and me. As a team. Okay?
Sam nods.
Sam: Okay.
Dean: Man, I really want this to be a fresh start, you know? For the both of us.
They look at each other, then Sam nods again.
Sam: Okay.
EXT. ROAD - NIGHT
The Impala drives along.
Special Guest Star
PARIS HILTON
Guest Starring
DARYL SHUTTLEWORTH
Sheriff's DEPARTMENT
EXT. Sheriff's DEPARTMENT - DAY
Canton, Ohio
INT. Sheriff's DEPARTMENT - DAY
Dean and Sam, wearing suits, show their FBI badges to the Sheriff.
Dean: Agents Bonham and Copeland.
The Sheriff shakes their hands.
Sheriff: Rick Carnegie. Good to know ya. So you're here on account of Cal Hawkins' death?
Sam: That's right.
CARNEGIE
Well, 'fraid you came a long way for nothing. We already booked the guy that did it.
Sam and Dean frown at each other.
Sam: I'm sorry; who do you think did it?
INTERVIEW ROOM
INT. INTERVIEW ROOM - DAY
Sam, Dean, and CARNEGIE are sitting at a table, watching the video that JIM recorded.
JIM on video
Cal? Is something wrong?
The video shows CAL's head smashed into the windshield.
JIM on video
Oh my God, Cal. Cal!
The video cuts to static and CARNEGIE shakes his head, then switches off the TV. He drops the remote on the table and turns to Dean and Sam.
CARNEGIE
Sicko taped his own handiwork.
Dean and Sam look confused.
Sam: I don't follow.
CARNEGIE
It was Jim Grossman that killed Cal.
Dean: Wait, what?
CARNEGIE
Well, he was the only one on the scene for miles.
Sam: They were best friends.
CARNEGIE
Most violent crimes are committed by someone close to the victim.
Dean: And how exactly did Jim slam Cal into a windshield with all the force of an eighty-mile-per-hour crash?
CARNEGIE blinks.
CARNEGIE
Drugs, maybe?
Dean raises his eyebrows.
CARNEGIE
Look, you know this ain't brain surgery, boys! Whatever it looks like, that's what it usually is. It's simple.
Dean: Simple. Right.
Dean glances over his shoulder at Sam.
Sam: Right. Um, if you don't mind, we'd like to speak to Jim Grossman anyway.
HOLDING CELL
INT. JIM's CELL - DAY
Sam is sitting at a table across from JIM, and Dean stands behind Sam.
JIM
I was in the house when it happened, I didn't even see it.
Dean: For argument's sake, say we believe you.
JIM
Why would you? The cops didn't.
Dean: Well we're not your typical cops.
Sam: Please, just tell us what you saw.
JIM
It's not what I saw, it's what I heard. Tires squealing, glass breaking.
JIM sighs.
JIM
It was the car that did it.
Dean and Sam both raise their eyebrows.
Sam: The car?
JIM
I mean, I heard about the curse, but, I just thought it was a load of crap.
Dean: Curse, what do you-what do you mean, curse?
JIM
The car. Little Bastard.
Dean: Li-Little Bastard? As in the[i]Little Bastard?
Sam: Wait, wait, wait, wait, uh, what's Little Bastard?
Dean: It's James Dean's car. It's the one he was killed in.
JIM
Yeah, that's the one. Cal had been looking for it for years. I mean, hell, we both had. But he found it first.
Dean leans closer to Sam.
Dean: Oh, we are definitely checking this out.
IMPOUND GARAGE
[i]INT. GARAGE - DAY
Dean walks around and inspects Little Bastard with awe, careful not to touch. The windshield is bloodstained and has a piece missing where CAL's head was.
Co-Producer
Jeremy CARVER
Sam: So, what, this is, like, Christine?
Co-Producers
JERRY WANEK
SERGE LADOUCEUR
Dean shakes his head.
Dean: Christine is fiction. This-
Producer
TODD ARONAUER
Dean: This is real.
Co-Executive Producer
PETER JohnSON
Sam: Okay.
Executive Producer
SERA GAMBLE
Sam: Enlighten me.
Executive Producer
BEN EDLUND
Dean: Well after James Dean died, his mechanic-
Executive Producer
PHIL SGRICCIA
Dean: -bought the wreckage, and he fixed it up.
Executive Producer
McG
Dean: And it repaid him by...
Produced by
JIM MICHAELS
Dean: Falling on him.
Created by
ERIC KRIPKE
Dean: And Tony McHenry was killed when it locked up on the racetrack.
Written by
Julie SIEGE
Dean: I mean, death follows this car around like exhaust. Nobody touches it and comes away in one piece.
Sam: Hm.
Dean: Then, in nineteen-seventy, it vanished off the back of a truck. Nobody's ever seen it since.
Directed by
JAMES L. CONWAY
Dean: I'm telling you, man, if this-if this car is Little Bastard, I will bet you dollars to donuts it's what killed the guy.
Sam: So how do we find out?
Dean: Cal matched the VIN number, but the only real way to know is the engine number.
Sam nods.
Sam: I'm guessing the engine number-?
Dean: On the engine. Yeah.
INT. GARAGE - DAY
Dean and Sam have their jackets off and sleeves rolled up and are staring at Little Bastard with trepidation.
Sam: You want me to do it?
Dean: No. ...No, no, I've-I've got it.
Dean addresses Little Bastard.
Dean: Okay, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you, so...don't hurt me.
Dean lies down on a roller board with a pencil in his mouth, then rolls himself under the car so his eyes are level with a number printed on the engine. He reads the number when the car shudders and Dean panics, looking around. Sam appears on the ground next to the car.
Sam: Need a flashlight?
Dean startles.
Dean: No. Don't...do anything, just go away.
Sam: You-uh, okay.
Dean: Don't speak. All right? In fact, don't even look at her, she might not like it.
Sam stands back up. Dean holds a piece of paper up to the engine's number. The car shudders again and Dean hesitates, then cautiously takes a rubbing of the number on the piece of paper with the pencil. He slides out from under the car, exhaling deeply, then stands up quickly. Dean composes himself, then hands Sam the number.
Dean: Find out who owned it. Not just the last owner, you gotta take it all the way back to nineteen-fifty-five.
Sam: That's a lot of research.
Dean: Well, I guess I just made your afternoon.
Sam stares. Dean sighs and walks away.
AFTERNOON
EXT. GREEN DRAGON TAVERN - DAY
INT. BAR - DAY
Dean sits at the bar, talking to a Bartender.
Dean: So, you wanna be an actress, huh?
Bartender: Yeah.
Dean: That is-that is so funny, because, I am actually-
Dean takes out a business card.
Dean: -an agent for William Morris Endeavor.
She takes the card.
Bartender: Wow.
Dean Chuckles as his cell phone rings. He indicates his empty beer glass.
Dean: You mind filling me up again?
Bartender: Yeah.
Dean: Thanks, hey, you're a star. All right?
She giggles, takes the glass and walks away as Dean answers the call.
INT. MOTEL ROOM - DAY[i]and [i]INT. BAR - DAY[i], alternating
Dean: Yo.
Sam: Hey. Took me a while, but I traced all the car's previous owners.
Sam is sitting at his laptop, piles of paper spread around.
Dean: Any of 'em die bloody?
Sam: Nope. In fact-
Someone near Dean breaks a triangle of pool balls. Sam hears this.
Sam: Dean, are you in a bar?
Dean: No, I-I'm-I'm in a restaurant.
The Bartender returns and places Dean's beer on the bar.
Bartender: Here's your beer.
The Bartender grins.
Dean: Thanks.
He takes the beer as the bartender walks away and Sam shakes his head.
Dean: That happens to have a bar.
Sam: I've been working my ass off here.
Dean: Hey, world's smallest violin, pal, I spent the afternoon up Christine's skirt. I needed a drink.
Sam: Actually, you didn't.
Dean: Meaning?
Sam: The car's first owner was a cardiologist in Philadelphia; drove it 'til he died in nineteen-seventy-two.
Dean: So you're saying?
Sam: That Porsche is not, nor has it ever been, James Dean's car. It's a fake Little Bastard.
Dean: Well then what was it that killed the guy?
Sam: Good question.
HOUSE
[i]EXT. HOUSE - NIGHT
INT. OFFICE - NIGHT
A Man, Mr. HILL, sits at his desk, doing some paperwork. A MAID, CONSUELA, comes to the door.
CONSUELA
Okay Mister Hill, I finish.
HILL
Thank you, Consuela. Have a good night.
CONSUELA smiles, nods, and leaves. HILL returns to his paperwork and sighs, but is surprised when his breath condenses in front of him. He hears a creak behind him, turns, and stops.
HILL
Oh my God. It's you.
HILL stands.
HILL
You're dead. You're supposed to be dead.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN snarls, teeth bared, and steps from the shadows, advancing on HILL, who backs away.
HILL
No. No, no, no.
LINCOLN suddenly appears right in front of HILL and picks him up by the throat. LINCOLN begins to strangle HILL. A large splatter of blood hits a framed copy of the Emancipation Proclamation hanging on the wall.
ACT TWO
OFFICE
INT. OFFICE - DAY
A police forensic squad is investigating and photographing the scene. CARNEGIE is giving orders as Dean and Sam enter.
CARNEGIE
I want you to use a, a fine-tooth comb. The evidence is here, we just gotta find it.
Dean: Heard you got another weird one.
CARNEGIE
Uh, well, it's a-it's a little strange on the surface, I admit, but, uh...you know, once you-you look at the facts...
Sam: William Hill died from a gunshot wound to the head. No gun, no gunpowder, no bullet.
Dean shrugs.
Dean: Nope. Nothing strange about that.
CARNEGIE
Well there's gotta be a reasonable explanation. There always is.
Dean: Well what's your reasonable explanation?
CARNEGIE looks around cautiously for a moment and whispers.
CARNEGIE
Professional killer.
Sam: Come again?
CARNEGIE
Well, CIA, NSA, one o' them trained assassins, like in Michael Clayton.
Sam and Dean all but gape at CARNEGIE.
Dean: Right.
Dean looks at Sam.
CARNEGIE
You're welcome to look around, but-but these guys don't leave fingerprints.
Sam: Mind if we talk with the witness?
CARNEGIE
Be my guest. She's not making any sense! And she's not making any sense in Spanish either.
Dean nods slowly.
Dean: Right.
HOUSE
EXT. HOUSE - DAY
CONSUELA is sitting on a wooden bench, wrapped in a blanket, talking to a Police Officer and sobbing. Dean and Sam come outside and walk over to her.
CONSUELA
No puedo vivir aquí. Necesito mi familia. Me voy ahora. Me voy a la casa. No-me voy a la casa en El Salvador ahora.
Dean: Consuela Alvarez?
CONSUELA
Yes?
Dean: FBI.
Dean and Sam both show their badges. The Police Officer leaves.
Dean: Now, uh, you said you saw something in the professor's house. Right? Something in the window?
CONSUELA
Estaba sacando la basura. Imiré por la ventana y vi al hombre que mató al Señor Hill!
Sam kneels in front of her.
Sam: Uh, Señora Alvarez. Cálmese, por favor. Uh-
Sam looks at Dean, thinking.
Sam: Uh, díganos lo que vio?
Dean grins.
Dean: Nice.
Sam: Freshman Spanish.
Sam shrugs.
CONSUELA
Era alto. Muy alto. Y llevaba el abrigo negro largo y tenía bigotes.
Sam glances between Dean and CONSUELA as he translates.
Sam: Okay, uh, a tall man, very tall. With a long black coat and a-
Sam gestures at his chin.
Sam: A beard?
CONSUELA nods.
Sam: Beard.
CONSUELA
Y un sombrero.
Dean: Dude was wearing a sombrero?
Sam: Uh, a hat, not a-a-
Sam gestures near his head.
CONSUELA
No, no, no, un sombrero alto.
Sam: A tall hat?
Dean: Oh, like a top hat.
CONSUELA
Un sombrero alto.
CONSUELA gestures above her head.
CONSUELA
Muy alto!
Dean: What, you mean like a-like a stovepipe hat.
Dean imitates her gesture.
CONSUELA
Sí.
Dean: Oh yeah, like Abraham Lincoln.
Sam shrugs. CONSUELA starts sobbing again.
CONSUELA
Sí. El Presidente Lincoln.
Sam and Dean trade confused looks.
CONSUELA
Abraham Lincoln kill Mister Hill!
She cries again.
Dean: Huh.
CONSUELA
S-so I go home now?
Sam: Uh, sí. Gracias.
Dean: Gracias.
Sam turns and frowns at Dean as CONSUELA walks away.
MOTEL
EXT. THE NITE OWL MOTEL - DAY
INT. MOTEL ROOM - DAY
Sam and Dean sit at the table, Sam on his laptop and Dean on a new laptop. Sam brings up a webpage. Dean is rewatching the video of CAL's death. He notices something and frowns, then pauses the video and backs up a few frames until a figure in a red jacket appears reflected in the chrome of a car wheel.
Dean: Whoa.
Sam: What?
Dean goes back and forth between adjacent frames; the figure is present in one but not the other. He picks up the laptop and turns it around so Sam can see.
Dean: It's a freeze-frame from Jim Grossman's video.
Sam looks at it.
Dean: Am I crazy, or does that look like James Dean?
Sam: That looks like James Dean.
Dean sets the laptop back in front of himself.
Dean: So we got Abraham Lincoln, and[i]James Dean?
Sam frowns.
Dean: Famous ghosts?
Sam: Maybe.
Dean: Well that's just silly.
Sam: No, actually, uh, there is a ton of lore on famous ghosts. More than the, you know, not-famous kinds. I'm actually surprised we haven't run into one before.
Dean: Yeah, but now we got two of 'em? Two extremely pissed-off ghosts?
Sam: Who are apparently ganking their fans.
Dean: What do you mean?
Sam reads off the webpage.
Sam: Professor Hill was a Civil War nut. He dug Lincoln.
Dean: And Cal must've been a James Dean freak. He spent seventeen years of his life tracking down the guy's car.
Sam raises his eyebrows knowingly.
Dean: So you're saying we've got two super-famous, super-pissed-off ghosts killing their...super-fans?
Sam shrugs.
Sam: That's what it looks like.
Dean: Well, that is muchos loco.
Sam grins.
Sam: 'Muy'.
Dean looks up.
Sam: Not 'muchos'.
Dean: Yeah, well, the big question is, what the hell are they doing here?
Sam: Yeah. Ghosts usually haunt the places they live. I mean, I, I get Abraham Lincoln at the White House-
Dean: And James Dean at a race track, but...what the hell are they doing in Canton?
[i]MOTEL ROOM - DAY
Sam is still working on his laptop while Dean stands by the sink, drinking a can of soda. Sam stops typing and frowns.
Sam: You gotta be kidding me.
Dean: What?
Dean walks over and reads the screen.
Dean: You gotta be kidding me.
WAX MUSEUM
INT. CANTON WAX MUSEUM - DAY
Sam and Dean walk through the wax museum, checking out the figures. Sam walks past John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon, then stops at Abraham Lincoln. Dean frowns at Gandhi.
Dean: Dude, he's short.
Sam: Hey. Gandhi was a great man.
Dean: Yeah, for a Smurf.
The MUSEUM OWNER comes down the stairs at a half-jog, slightly out of breath. He is wearing a leather jacket.
OWNER
Sorry to keep you waiting, this is our busiest time of the year.
Dean looks around at the empty rooms.
Dean: This is busy?
OWNER
Well, not right now, but it's early.
Dean: It's four-thirty.
OWNER
So, what can I do for you?
Sam: Uh, well, we are writing a piece for Travel Magazine[i].
Dean: Yeah, on how, uh, totally non-sucky wax museums are.
OWNER
That's fantastic. A little press, just what we need.
Sam: Great. Well we're interested in a few of your exhibits, specifically Abraham Lincoln and, uh, James Dean.
OWNER
Two of our most popular displays.
Sam: Oh yeah? So they bring in a lot of visitors?
OWNER
Yeah, we have our regulars.
Dean: I don't suppose that, uh, William Hill and Cal Hawkins were regulars, were they?
The OWNER nods.
OWNER
As a matter of fact, they were. Yeah, I heard what happened to them. It's tragic, just tragic. Oh-you-that's not gonna be in the article, is it?
Sam: No. No, no. 'Course not.
Dean: You know, I gotta tell you, that-that Lincoln is so lifelike, I mean, you-I mean, you can just imagine him moving around. You ever see anything like that?
The OWNER frowns.
OWNER
Uh...no.
Dean: No?
Sam: Well, um, is there anything you could think of that would make your museum...unusual? You know, for the article?
OWNER
Well, I'll say. There isn't another place like us, not anywhere.
Dean: How so?
OWNER
Well, for one, that's Honest Abe's real hat.
The OWNER points to Lincoln.
Sam: It is?
Dean: Almost like his remains.
Dean looks pointedly at Sam. The OWNER frowns.
OWNER
Uh...I guess?
Dean grins.
Sam: You wouldn't happen to have any of James Dean's personal effects, would you?
OWNER
Ooh, yeah. Got his keychain. We got a bunch of stuff, uh, Gandhi's bifocals, FDR's iron lung. This.
The OWNER indicates the leather jacket he's wearing. Sam frowns.
Sam: And who did that belong to?
OWNER
The Fonz. Seasons two through four!
The OWNER does a double thumbs-up, grinning.
Sam: W-wow. Yeah, that's-that's really cool...ish.
OWNER
This? This is nothing. I've been working on a new collection of figures. Stuff that'll really wow the kids.
Dean: The kids?
OWNER
Yeah, Gen Y.
Dean nods.
OWNER
Computer games, cell phones, sexting.
Dean raises his eyebrows. The OWNER scoffs.
OWNER
They're just fads. I'm gonna make wax museums hip again.
The OWNER grins and gives his double thumbs-up again. Dean Chuckles and Sam returns the thumbs-up.
MOTEL
[i]EXT. THE NITE OWL MOTEL - NIGHT
Sam opens the trunk of the Impala, takes out a shotgun and loads it with shells of rock salt, then puts the loaded shotgun back in and closes the lid. He goes back into their room.
INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Dean is talking on his cell phone, facing away from the door.
Dean: Yeah, Abraham Lincoln and James Dean, can you believe that? ...Why so kill-crazy? Ah, maybe the apocalypse has got 'em all hot and bothered. Yeah, well, we all know whose fault that is. ...Well I'm sorry, but it's true.
Sam frowns, then pushes the door shut, causing Dean to spin around.
Dean: I'll call you later. Bye.
He hangs up and turns to Sam.
Sam: What's going on?
Dean: Did you get the trunk packed up?
Sam: Yeah, trunk's packed. Who was on the phone?
Dean: Bobby.
Sam: And?
Dean shakes his head.
Dean: Nothing.
Sam: So we're just gonna pretend I didn't hear what I just heard?
Dean shrugs.
Dean: Pretend or don't pretend. Whatever floats your boat.
Sam: This was supposed to be a fresh start, Dean.
Dean picks up his jacket.
Dean: Well, this is about as fresh as it gets. Now are we going or not?
Dean walks to the door, opens it, and leaves. Sam watches him go, sighs, and follows him.
WAX MUSEUM
INT. WAX MUSEUM - NIGHT
Sam and Dean walk through the museum, past Gandhi. Dean approaches Lincoln and takes off his hat as Sam fetches a metal trash can. Sam turns around to find Dean wearing Lincoln's hat.
Dean: Check it out.
Dean lowers his voice, imitating Lincoln.
Dean: Four score and seven years ago, I had a funny hat.
Sam: Dean.
Sam sighs and puts the trash can down, holding his hand out for the hat.
Dean: We can't have any fun with this?
Dean takes the hat off and tosses it into the trash can.
Sam: Let's just torch the objects, torch the ghosts, get outta here. Okay?
Dean: I'll go grab East of Eden's keychain.
Dean walks into the next room. Sam scans the room. He looks at Lincoln, then narrows his eyes and leans in closer. The double doors Dean went through slam shut. Sam spins around.
Sam: Dean?
Sam goes over to the doors, shotgun in hand.
Sam: Dean?
Sam tries the door handles but the doors won't budge. He notices his breath condensing in front of him and spins around, shotgun held at the ready. He looks from Lincoln to Gandhi and back again as he creeps forward slowly. Sam hears a creak to his left and he turns. The shotgun flies out of his hands. Defenseless, Sam stands still for a second and GANDHI leaps onto his back.
GANDHI wraps his arms around Sam's neck but Sam slams him into the wall and GANDHI falls off. He gets up and they circle around each other, then GANDHI scrambles under Sam's legs and jumps on his back again. Sam throws himself backwards and crashes through a table, and GANDHI lets go momentarily but jumps on Sam's back a third time and begins to strangle him just as Dean bursts through the double doors.
Sam: Dean!
Dean: Is that Gandhi?
Sam: Yeah!
Dean: Dude, he's squirrelly.
Sam: Get the-
GANDHI elbows Sam in the chest, winding him. Sam indicates Gandhi's wax figure with a shake of his head and Dean runs over to it.
Sam: Do it!
Dean: Get the what?
Sam: Glasses!
Sam begins to gasp and choke, running out of oxygen. Dean grabs the glasses off the Gandhi wax figure and runs over to the trash can. He throws them in, squirts lighter fluid on them and finally lights them on fire with a match. GANDHI disappears, and Sam gasps for air.
Dean: You couldn't have been a fan of someone cool?
Sam stares.
Dean: Really? Gandhi?
ACT THREE
MOTEL
EXT. NITE OWL MOTEL - DAY
INT. MOTEL ROOM - DAY
Dean grabs his shirts out of a drawer and shoves them in his bag.
Dean: Ready to blow this joint?
Sam comes out of the bathroom, zipping up his toiletries bag.
Sam: Dean, didn't it strike you as strange the way Gandhi just...vanished?
Dean: Strange how?
Sam: No screaming, no big flame-out, I mean, that isn't the way ghosts usually go.
Dean: Still, I torched, he vanished.
Sam: Yeah, but I-
Sam sighs.
Sam: Also, I feel like he was...trying to take a bite out of me.
Dean: A bite?
Sam: Yeah, like he was hungry. But the thing is, Gandhi-or, the real Gandhi-he was a-
Dean: A what?
Sam hesitates.
Dean: Spit it out.
Sam: He was a fruitarian.
Dean stares at Sam, then laughs.
Dean: Let me get this straight. Your, uh, ultimate hero was not only a short man in diapers, but he was also a fruitarian?
Sam: That's not the point.
Dean: That is good. That is-even for you, that is good.
Sam: Look, I'm just saying, I'm not so sure this thing is over.
Dean spreads his arms.
Dean: It was a ghost. It was a weirdly super-charged fruitarian ghost, but it was still a ghost. Now let's go.
Dean picks up his bag.
Sam: So first you drag me into town, and now you're dragging me back out.
Dean: You ain't steering this boat. Let's go, chop chop.
Dean walks towards the door.
Sam: You know, this isn't gonna work.
Dean stops and turns.
Dean: What isn't?
Sam: Us. You, me, together, I-I thought it could, but it can't.
Dean: You're the one that wanted back in, chief.
Sam: And you're the one who called me back in.
Dean: I still think we got some trust building to do.
Sam: How long am I gonna be on double-secret probation?
Dean shrugs.
Dean: Till I say so.
Sam: Look. I know what I did. What I've done. And I am trying to climb out of that hole, I am, but you're not making it any easier.
Dean: So what am I supposed to do, just let you off the hook?
Sam: No. You can think whatever you want. I deserve it, and worse. Hell, you'll never punish me as much as I'm punishing myself, but the point is, if we're gonna be a team, you and I-it has to be a two-way street.
Dean: So we just go back to the way we were before?
Sam: No, because we were never that way before. Before didn't work.
Dean frowns.
Sam: How do you think we got here?
Dean: What's that supposed to mean?
Sam: Dean, one of the reasons I went off with Ruby...was to get away from you.
Dean: What?
Sam: It made me feel strong. Like I wasn't your kid brother.
Dean: Are you saying this is my fault?
Sam: No, it's my fault. All I'm saying is that, if we're gonna do this, we have to do it different, we can't just fall into the Same rut.
Dean shakes his head.
Dean: What do you want me to do?
Sam: You're gonna have to let me grow up, for starters.
Dean's cell phone rings. He stares at Sam, then puts his bag down and answers it.
Dean: Yeah?
He looks to Sam, then away again.
Dean: Yeah. Yeah, okay.
Dean hangs up.
Dean: I guess you were right about this not being over.
Sheriff's DEPARTMENT
INT. Sheriff's DEPARTMENT - DAY
Sam and Dean, back in suits, walk in and head straight over to CARNEGIE, who is sitting at a desk.
Sam: Sheriff Carnegie?
Dean: Sheriff, what happened?
CARNEGIE
I, uh, uh...
CARNEGIE shrugs and shakes his head.
CARNEGIE
I don't know!
He indicates the interview room where two Young WOMEN are sitting at the table, crying. Dean and Sam walk in.
Dean: Excuse us, girls. Hi, we're with the FBI.
Sam: Can you tell us what happened?
Girl 1: It was horrible!
Girl 2
Way horrible.
Sam: What was horrible?
Girl 1: I thought she'd be nice!
Girl 2 looks at Girl 1.
Girl 2
I still can't believe it.
Dean: Believe what?
Girl 2
She took Danielle!
Dean: Who?
The GIRLS look at each other.
Sam: It's okay, you're safe, just, tell us. Who took your friend?
Girl 2
It was...Paris Hilton.
Dean and Sam stare.
Sam: Sorry?
Girl 2
She looked really good, though.
Girl 1: Skinny!
Girl 2
Skinny and fast.
Girl 1: Mm.
Dean: What-wait-huh?
Sam: Uh, um...where did they go?
Girl 1 shakes her head.
Girl 1: We don't know.
Girl 2
They just vanished.
Dean: Would you excuse us for just a minute?
He and Sam walk back to the doorway and speak just above a whisper.
Dean: Paris Hilton's not dead as far as we know, right?
Sam: Pretty sure, no.
Dean: Which means it's not a-
Sam: Ghost. No.
Dean: So, what? Paris Hilton is a homicidal maniac-
Sam: Or we missed something.
Dean: What do you wanna do?
CORONER's OFFICE
INT. MORGUE - DAY
Sam, now in blue scrubs, is looking through CAL's file. He reads through the notes and frowns when he finds something. He pulls out CAL's body from the freezer and uses a scalpel to cut open CAL's chest, then pushes his gloved hand inside. There is a squelch and Sam closes his eyes and breathes out.
Sam: That's right.
Sam frowns and pulls his hand out, fingers covered in blood. He holds up two small round things.
Sam: What the hell?
EXT. CORONER's OFFICE - DAY
Sam, back in his suit, comes out of the building to meet up with Dean. Sam shakes his head and sighs.
Sam: I can't believe I missed it.
Dean stands up and walks with Sam back to the Impala.
Dean: Missed what?
Sam: Went back over the other two vics. There was blood loss. Major.
Dean: Oh, well, being a gory smear will do that to you.
Sam: No, I-I mean more blood loss than a-a car crash or a head wound should cause, almost like it-
Dean: Something's feeding.
Sam: Yeah.
Dean: Awesome.
Sam: And then-
Sam takes out a plastic bag.
Sam: There were these.
Dean looks at the bag; it contains the two things Sam found. Dean picks up the corner to inspect them closer.
Dean: What are those, seeds?
Sam: Yeah. They were in both vics' bellies.
Dean takes his hand off the bag quickly.
Dean: I hope you washed your hands.
Sam: They're unlike any seed I've ever seen before, Dean.
Dean: Wow, just when I thought you couldn't get any geekier.
Dean pats Sam on the shoulder and gets into the Impala.
MOTEL
INT. MOTEL ROOM – DAY
Sam is on his laptop again, the seeds out of their bag and sitting on the table next to him. Dean is sitting on the bed using his laptop. Sam grins.
Sam: Yahtzee.
Dean: What?
Sam: The seeds aren't from around here. In fact, they're not from any tree or plant in the country.
Dean: Where are they from?
Sam: Eastern Europe. From a forest in the Balkans, which is not even there anymore. It was chopped down, like, thirty years ago.
Dean: So?
Sam: So, local legend has it that the forest was guarded by a pagan god whose name was Leshi. Um, a mischievous god, could take on infinite forms-
Dean: And let me guess. He liked to munch on his fans.
Sam Chuckles.
Sam: Yep. Could be appeased only with the blood from his worshippers. It would drain 'em, then stuff their stomachs with the seeds.
Dean gets up and comes over to Sam.
Dean: So how's he doing it? What, he touches James Dean's keychain and then morphs into James Dean?
Sam: Hm. It's as good a guess as any.
Dean: Yeah, well, whatever. How do we kill him?
Sam: Says here to chop off his head with an iron axe.
Dean nods.
Dean: All right. Let's go gank ourselves a Paris Hilton.
WAX MUSEUM
INT. WAX MUSEUM - NIGHT
Sam and Dean enter, Dean carrying an axe, Sam a flashlight, and walk past the now hatless Abraham Lincoln wax model. They split up and search separate rooms. Sam comes across a door with signs on it reading "Sorry for the inconvenience, CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS" and "DANGER DO NOT ENTER". He whistles and Dean meets up with him.
They break the latch and open the door, pushing through a plastic sheet to find a room decorated like a clearing in the woods, with a path leading up the middle to a white house with a wax figure of a man in a suit standing on the front porch. Sam notices a Young Woman, who must be DANIELLE, standing next to a tree and tied by her wrists to it.
Sam: Hey.
Sam runs over and checks her pulse.
Dean: She alive?
Sam: Yeah. Barely.
The axe flies out of Dean's hand and embeds itself in a tree on the other side of the path. Dean spins around to find PARIS HILTON; this must be the LESHI. She grins and punches Dean multiple times in the face, sending him to the ground. She flips her hair as Sam lunges at her, but she shoves him and sends him flying across the room. He collides with the front wall of the house and falls to the ground, unconscious. Dean shakes his head and looks up to see the LESHI standing over him.
LESHI
Awesome.
She raises her stiletto-clad foot and stomps on Dean's face.
ACT FOUR
INT. WOODS ROOM - NIGHT
The LESHI sits on a tree stump near the house with another tree stump serving as a table next to her. Laid on it are various knives; she picks one up and begins filing her nails, causing small sparks. Dean and Sam are tied to two trees side-by-side, in the Same fashion as DANIELLE. They wake up one after the other and struggle for a second before they realize where they are.
LESHI
Oh. I'm so glad you're awake for this. This is gonna be huge.
Sam and Dean look at each other.
Dean: Super. Yeah, I wouldn't wanna miss it.
He pulls at his ropes discreetly.
LESHI
I mean, I've been stuffing myself with fast food lately. So it's nice to do the ritual right. Prepare a nice, slow meal for a change.
Sam: Just like the good old days, huh?
LESHI
You have no idea. People adored me. They used to throw themselves at me, with smiles on their faces.
Dean: Yeah, I guess these days nobody gives a flying crap about some backwoods forest god, huh?
The LESHI stops filing her nails with a threatening glare.
LESHI
No. Not since they cut down my forest and built a Yugo plant.
Dean: March of progress, sister.
LESHI files her nails a few more times.
LESHI
For years now, I've been wandering. Hungry. Scared. Scrounging for scraps. So not sexy.
Dean makes a face.
LESHI
But then, the best thing ever happened.
She puts the knife down.
LESHI
Someone tripped the apocalypse. And I thought, what the hell, I'm tired of watching what I eat. I wanna pig out. So I found this little place. It's awesome. Adoring fans stroll right in the door.
Sam: Yeah. But they're not your fans.
LESHI
So? They worship Lincoln, Gandhi, Hilton...whatever. I'll take what I can get.
Dean: You know, I gotta tell you, you are not the first god we've met, but you are...the nuttiest.
LESHI
No, you, you people, you're the crazy ones. You used to worship gods. But this?
The LESHI indicates her Paris Hilton disguise.
LESHI
This is what passes for idolatry? Celebrities? What have they got besides small dogs and spray tans?
Sam frowns. Dean raises his eyebrows, nodding.
LESHI
You people used to have old-time religion. Now you have Us Weekly[i].
Dean: I don't know, I'm more of a [i]Penthouse Forum[i]man myself.
He winks and clicks his tongue at the LESHI. She gets up and stalks over to him.
LESHI
Maybe, but...there's still a lot of yummy meat on those bones, boy.
Dean: Well I hate to break it to you, sister, but, uh...you can't eat me. See, I'm not a Paris Hilton BFF. I've never even seen [i]House of Wax[i].
Sam looks at Dean and frowns.
LESHI
No. But I can totally read your mind, Dean. I know who your hero is. Your daddy. Am I right?
Dean doesn't reply. She smirks and walks over to the tree with the axe embedded in it. When her back is turned, Dean pulls at his ropes again.
LESHI
And this belonged to him. Didn't it? Poor little Dean. All you ever wanted was to be loved by your idol. One distant father figure, coming right up.
She goes to touch the axe when Dean finally pulls his wrist free of the ropes. He sprints across the clearing and tackles the LESHI to the floor. Sam pulls desperately at his ropes as the LESHI manages to kneel on top of Dean and punches him repeatedly in the face. Sam finally pulls free and dashes over the clearing. Dean gets a punch in and throws the LESHI off him as Sam pulls the axe from the tree. Dean rolls out of the way and Sam brings the axe down five times on the LESHI's neck. Her head rolls free of her body and Sam pants in exertion, his face covered in blood. Dean, still on the floor, looks up when Sam turns to him and grins, and Dean holds up a finger.
Dean: Not a word.
Sam: Dude. You just got whaled on by Paris Hilton!
Dean: Shut up.
He lies back and grunts in pain, holding his head.
EPILOGUE
[i]EXT. THE NITE OWL MOTEL - DAY
Dean and Sam, carrying their bags, are walking to the Impala. Dean is talking on his cell phone.
Dean: Uh-huh. All right. Thank you.
Dean hangs up.
Dean: Sheriff Carnegie. Danielle's gonna be all right. She's sworn off [i]The Simple Life[i], but other than that-
Sam: Glad she's okay.
Dean: It gets better. Sheriff's putting out an APB on Paris Hilton.
Dean Chuckles.
Dean: That oughta be good.
Dean takes out his keys and opens the trunk of the Impala. They put their bags inside.
Dean: Hey, listen, I was thinking about what you said yesterday. About me keeping too tight of a leash on you.
Sam looks at him.
Dean: Hell, maybe you're right. I mean, look, I'm not exactly Mister Innocent in this whole mess either, you know. I did break the first seal.
Sam: You didn't know.
Dean: Yeah, well, neither did you.
Sam looks down.
Dean: I'm not saying demon blood was a great way to go, but, you did kill Lilith.
Sam: And start the apocalypse.
Dean: Which neither of us saw coming, I mean, who'd have thought killing Lilith would've been a bad thing?
Dean pauses.
Dean: Point is, I was so worried about watching your every move that I didn't see what it was actually doing to you.
Dean pauses again.
Dean: So, for that I'm sorry.
Sam: Thanks.
Dean closes the trunk and takes the keys.
Dean: So where do we go from here?
Sam: They way I see it, we got one shot at surviving this.
Dean: What's that?
Sam: Maybe I am on deck for the devil, maybe Same with you and Michael, maybe there's no changing that.
Dean: Well that's encouraging.
Sam: But, we [i]can[i]stop wringing our hands over it. We gotta just grab onto whatever's in front of us, kick its ass, and go down fighting.
Dean considers this, then nods.
Dean: I can get on board with that.
Sam nods.
Sam: Okay. But we're gonna have to do it on the Same level.
Dean grins slightly.
Dean: You got it.
Sam nods again.
Dean: I say we get the hell outta here.
Sam: Hell yeah.
They turn to go to their respective sides of the car, but Dean stops and looks down at the keys.
Dean: Hey.
Sam turns around, then Dean, and Dean holds out the keys.
Dean: You wanna drive?
Sam looks down at the keys.
Sam: You sure?
Dean: Yeah, I could, uh...I could use a nap.
Sam smiles a little and Dean hands him the keys. Jeff Beck's "Superstition" begins to play. They get into the car and drive away.
Music: Very superstitious
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