So yes, I will miss Supernatural after its fifteenth season airs.
I became a part of the Supernatural fandom, although only along the fringes. The bucket list included seeing them at a Con, and I did that with the biggest of them all, ComicCon. I found the music of Louden Swain, I was persuaded to do good things with GISHWHES, I bought apparel to promote Always Keep Fighting, and I developed friendships with other fans.
Mostly though, as an always struggling writer, I learned that I was at least capable of tackling TV drama spec scripts. For anyone not familiar with the Hollywood market, a TV spec is a script written for an established show. It's fan fiction in screenplay format, where you're writing to prove you can create a story for established characters. it's a quirky process, because when you write said spec, you're not really writing to get it made. You're writing it to prove to other potentially show staffers that you can do it. I write a Supernatural spec, and it gets sent to, say Grimm (which is now off the air too, but you get the idea).
Anyway, I wrote four Supernatural specs, and two of them made it to competition lists. Intervention made it to the Austin Film Fest and Scriptapalooza. I Got You, Babe made the list of Final Draft's Big Break and Stage 32 Happy Writers. If you're a fan of the show, I hope you enjoy reading my unsold specs. I enjoyed writing them as much as I enjoy the show. Here's the first one.
SUPERNATURAL -- INTERVENTION
EXT. DIVE BAR - NIGHT
It's more than a dive bar. The graphics on its sign advertise
pole dancing in bright neon. The parking lot hints at a busy
Loud music and raucous yelling accompany LORNA as she pushes
her way out of the entrance. She's an attractive woman, by no
means a pole dancer, as she checks over her shoulder, hurries
to reach her car.
She turns over the engine, hastily pulls out, passing Dean's
Impala parked a few spots down. The Impala, empty.
Moments pass. Then BAM! The door breaks open from the force
of SAM and DEAN WINCHESTER being thrown out of the joint.
Sam, the first back on his feet. He staggers with a finger
pointed at the irritated BOUNCER who just threw them out.
It's more than obvious. Sam is more than just drunk.
You can't call my brother a
dick!... Even if he is one... A
Dean, just as drunk, kneels in a mud puddle and laughs.
That's right, Sammy...sic 'em.
Sam engages in a standoff with the irritated bouncer. Dean
gets to his feet, pulls Sam away by the collar.
Get offa me!
Shut up... We're going home...
The two of them turn around in a circle.
...where's the car.
The bouncer watches them stagger in the wrong direction. He
shakes his head. Turns to go back inside as another man,
FIDEL, a tattooed biker type, passes him on his way out.
Fidel steps in behind Sam and Dean. They're too drunk to be
aware of it.
Give me your keys.
Screw you. I'm driving--
--No you're not--
Sam persists. Dean shoves him again. Sam shoves back. The
beginning of another brawl, until Fidel steps in and
separates them. Both men square off in wobbly fighting
Whoa! Just everyone relax.
Who the hell are you!
Now, now... I'm your friend! You
forget so soon?
Sam and Dean ease up after vague recollection.
Oh, yeah... Back inside. What was
your name again?
Fidel claps Dean on the shoulder, lifts his keys from his
Doesn't matter. Let me drive you
He jingles the keys in Dean's face.
Which car is yours, again?
Sam and Dean scan the parking lot like the place is foreign
to them. Sam spots it first.
It's that way...
...then why are we going this way?
Dean and Fidel head for the car. Sam hangs back until Fidel
motions him to hurry along.
Come on, Redwood. You're in on this
Sam rolls his eyes, tries to follow without looking soused.
He climbs in the back seat, Fidel behind the wheel. Dean
Who are you again?
What do you say I stop along the
way and pick up a six pack?
Just like old times.
Hear that, Sammy? A six pack! I
like this guy.
Sam ignores him. Fidel pulls out of the lot.
Empty bottles of alcohol litter the floor.
Sam and Dean lie passed out in uncomfortable positions, Dean
half hanging off the bed, Sam sprawled haphazardly on the
floor... or is it the other way around?
Dean wakes with a start. He groans, rakes his fingers across
his face. He gets to his feet, trips over Sam’s feet on his
way to the bathroom. Dean almost curses.
Nice face plant, gigantor. Next
time you come home from a bender,
try aiming for the bed.
Dean scratches his belly, reaches the bathroom. A sweet groan
of relief as he’s heard peeing forever.
Back in the room, Sam breathes to life. Head hung low, he
manages to reach all fours. He cups a hand over his head,
notes something strange.
You dick... Did you cut my hair?
hangover pang settling behind his eyes.
What’s that? I don’t hear whiny
bitches all that well.
Sam rolls his eyes.
I said whatever!
Toilet flushes. Dean steps out to the vanity, muddles about
to find toothpaste and a brush. About to pop the brush in his
mouth when he startles at his own reflection.
What he sees isn’t him. It’s Sam.
Sam, moved to his feet by the urgency of the shout. He rounds
the corner, finds himself staring at... himself.
Sam checks his own reflection. Finds he’s wearing Dean’s
What the hell?!
What the hell?!
What did you do?!
What did I do? What did you do?! Do
you even remember last night--
You can’t put this on me--
Like hell I can’t. I can hold my
Great! You go out of your way to
get me drunk, and now... now--
Quit your whining! You just got an
upgrade, handsome! Look what I’ve
got to deal with.
Dean circles his face - Sam’s face with his finger. He
grimaces at his reflection.
He pulls up his shirt, admires the six pack underneath. He
even strokes it as Sam turns back to catch him. Disgust.
Dude! Please don’t!
What? I just gave you a compliment.
Silence as the two men pretend the other isn’t there. Sam
cleans bottles and trash off the floor. Dean slips on his
coat, finds it’s too small. He drops it and finds Sam’s coat
to slip into.
Sam indicates the dropped coat.
What do you care? It’s not yours.
Just hang it up.
Dean mimes a nagging parent. He stoops down to pick up the
coat. When he stands, his head catches the end of a low
hanging ceiling lamp.
Sam gives a quiet smirk.
Not funny! How do you even breathe
You can make jokes all you want.
They’re not going to fix this.
Well, I for one, would like to know
how the hell it happened.
We let our guard down. That’s how.
Yeah, well a memory or two would be
nice. If I didn’t know better, I’d
blame it on Gabriel.
Of course you would.
Dean watches Sam continue to clean. He scratches his head
before he takes a defiant stance.
You got something to say to me?
I found a job, so let’s just get it
Like this. You and me, we’re
already under each other’s skin.
And you don’t care? Focus? On a
sharply pointed finger.
Fine! You want to talk about this?
Let’s start with why you were at
I was there to get you!
I didn’t ask you to!
You’re not putting this on me, Sam.
You decide it’s time to pull a one
man ‘intervention’, and when it
--You have a problem, Dean--
--you go off and drown your failure
I’m sorry that I care about my
brother! Okay? And to be perfectly
honest, you’d drive anyone to
drink. You’re a real head case--
Oh, I’m the head case? Me? Have you
looked in the freaking mirror, Sam?
Sam just stares at him.
Okay, bad choice of words right
now. But I’m telling you. Walking
around like Chewbacca is not how I
plan to spend the rest of my living
days. It’s-- ...awkward--
More silence. More cleaning up. Then...
So we head back to the bar?
That’s where it all started. Right?
Yeah... Yeah, it did.
Time to suit up, then.
EXT. DINGY MOTEL - DAY
Sam and Dean, now dressed in their FBI best, head for their
car. Sam heads for the driver side.
What are you doing?
Oh no. You don’t drive. I drive. I
Sam reaches into his pocket. Pulls out the keys with a grin.
When this is over? I will take you
What is your problem? Technically
speaking, you are still driving.
Dean pouts. It’s quickly replaced by a grin and a wink when
he spots a scantily clad hooker passing through.
The hooker likes what she sees, gives him a wink in return.
Dude! Don’t even.
Oh I’m sorry! Your body is a
His body is a temple. Maybe next
Get in the car!
Dean waves goodbye. He hunches down into the passenger seat,
curses when he knocks his head on the door frame.
EXT. DIVE BAR - DAY
The parking lot nearly empty. the place looks more like an
abandoned hole in the wall than it did the night before.
Sam and Dean watch the entrance. They watch Lorna, a
barkeep’s apron around her waist, enter the bar.
She’s the one you talked to?
Yeah, only she left work early last
night, so no leads.
And the boyfriend was convicted on
a drug charge?
Several. Meth, cocaine, heroin. You
name it. He was killed doing time,
but she stands by her story.
That she saw him with the last girl
killed in the alley... So how’s he
back to do it?
The remains were cremated, so no
Shape shifter? Leviathan? A
freaking angel? I mean, this could
be anything. And you’ve got
Hey, at least I tried. If your
brain wasn’t soaked in whiskey half
Get off the soapbox, Caruso.
I’m just saying. It doesn’t help--
Hey, I’ve been good! I’ve cut out
the junk food. I’m eating your
--Because you have to.
I don’t have any problem with a
little fun once in a while! A
little release now and again.
Lesser men would develop ulcers
from what we do.
I don’t have one.
Are you listening? Did you listen
to what I said?
I’m just saying--
--Well, don't. because if we're
being honest? Being inside you
feels like crap.
--Don't say it. And it's not the
Sam shuts it. He gets out of the car.
Dean does too, again knocks his head on the door frame on the
INT. DIVE BAR
It’s early. The place empty, as Lorna inventories liquor.
Dean gives an appreciative look at a stripper’s pole before
Sam pulls him toward the bar.
Lorna turns in time to see Sam and Dean flash fake badges.
I’m agent Liebovitz. This is agent
ColberT. T’s not silent. Cole-
Dean smiles as Lorna gives the badges a once over.
FBI... So you guys finally decide
to take this seriously?
Well believe it or not, sweetheart,
there are bigger problems in the
--Ms. Rosser, let me apologize for
my partner, ColberT. His wife left
him for another WOMAN, and his
FOCUS needs just a little bit of
--Alright, Liebovitz. Let’s not get
Lorna eyes them and their forced smiles. She almost smirks.
What can I tell you that I haven’t
already told the locals?
Everything. Anything you can think
The report says that you ID’d your
I know. He was dead before all
three murders. But I saw him leave
with Candy. I did.
And how do you explain that?
I don’t. I can’t. But it was him.
Okay. Can you tell me, did he have
any connection to Candy? Was she a
user? Maybe he was her dealer at
--It’s always that, isn’t it? A
girl dances for a living, she must
be high on something--
--Well, was she?
And the other girls?
Lorna sighs. Unable to defend this time.
Rachel maybe. I didn’t really know
her well. But Fidel was still dead
by then. It couldn’t have been him.
Well, maybe it wasn’t Fidel. Maybe
it was someone pretending to be
Lorna shrugs, discouraged by the suggestion.
You’re the cops. You figure it out.
Can you tell us more about Fidel?
His time in prison.
Well... I met his cell mate. Toby.
Toby. That’s good. He’s out?
Two years ago. Here. He wanted to
‘express his condolences.’
Yeah, I’ll bet he did--
No. He was sincere. At least he
seemed to be. He said Fidel knew he made
mistakes, and that he wanted only
the best for me.
Sweetheart, they all say that--
Sam clears his throat to silence Dean.
So this Toby. He was out about a
year before the murders started. Do
you know where to find him?
The police already followed up. He
With all due respect, ma’am? We are
not ‘the police.’ Do you know where
we can reach him?
searches through an address book and begins jotting info on a
VIC, every bit of a bouncer as his massive biceps indicate,
walks through a back entrance. He happens to be the same
bouncer from the night before.
Hey, Vic! You’re here early.
Lost my cell phone last night after
a couple of real winners tried to
break up the place.
Lorna hands Sam the napkin. Vic closes in.
In other words, a typical night.
She smiles. Vic eyes Sam and Dean. Dean smiles back.
Hey. How ya doin’?
EXT. DIVE BAR
The first one to be thrown out the door is Dean. Sam, on the
other hand, backs out with his hands raised in truce. Vic
advances with a baseball bat.
We can pay damages--
--No we can’t!
--If you can just tell us what
happened-- It’s kind of fuzzy--
Vic raises the bat over his head.
Dean reaches his feet. Pulls Sam along out of harm’s way as
he waves the napkin almost like a surrender flag.
Nice chat! We got what we needed.
Vic and Lorna watch Sam and Dean quicken their pace.
Sam gets into the side he’s used to getting into - the
passenger seat. Dean settles in the driver’s seat. He pulls a
flask out of his inside pocket, takes a swig.
Well, that was fun!
A fist against the door. Fidel, the tattooed ex-con From the
night before - and supposedly dead, opens to find Sam and
Dean reaching to flash those fake FBI badges.
Mr. Maguire? I’m agent Liebovitz.
My partner, ColberT--
Sam! Dean! What a night, right?
raises his hands up. Quick surrender.
I don’t think you want to be doing
that. Unless you like this
He motions to the two of them.
How about you explain this
arrangement before I remove a knee
Dean. Hold up on that.
Dean gives Sam a WTF look. Sam clears his throat with the
slightest bit of guilt.
INT. FIDEL’S APARTMENT
Coats off, ties loosened, Sam and Dean face off in hard
backed chairs. Fidel slams shot glasses and tequila onto the
table beside them. Fidel pours.
Dean downs his shot like a frat boy with a challenge.
So, Mr. Toby Maguire. Spill it.
Dean helps himself to a second dose of poison.
You don’t like the name? ColberT?
Dean. I’d like you to meet...
Oh, I see... It’s all clear to me
He downs his second shot. Pours another. Waits.
Okay. Don’t be mad - or be mad
because I don’t care. There are no
murders. No Candy, no Rachel, no
Just Fidel here. And Lorna, who was
kind enough to set this up for me.
With a spell.
A spell. To pull this little bait
So that you could confront me... as
I know it sounds crazy--
How about stupid? It sounds stupid,
Last night was the last straw,
INT. DINGY MOTEL ROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT
Sam, back in his own skin, hunkers over his computer, refers
to opened texts about Leviathans and Hebrew folklore.
The glow from the computer screen only enhances the bags
under his eyes. He stops what he’s doing, rubs those eyes. He
is officially tired.
The door pushes open. It startles Sam enough to reach for a
knife beside his computer.
It’s only Dean - with an attentive hooker who waits just
outside. Dean gives her a ‘wait just a minute’ signal as he
Where have you been?
Dean gives the hooker a wink, then sets a paper cup beside
Got you a smoothie. So drink up.
Put some life back into that zombie
corpse of yours.
He pats Sam’s back, pulls out a fifth of whiskey from his
coat, takes a sizable gulp.
How’s the research going?
It doesn’t matter. Dean’s not really interested, already off
looking for something. He finds it - a condom in a drawer. He
waves it triumphantly as he heads back for the door.
Sam, on his feet, intercepts.
(to the hooker)
Can I have a minute with my
Sure thing, handsome.
Sam closes the door.
What’s wrong? You feeling okay?
Come on, drink up that smoothie.
It’s organic and everything--
--Dean, I’m tired. I’m tired of
watching you slowly kill yourself.
He pulls the bottle out of Dean’s hand.
And with that.
He points toward the hooker behind the door.
You’ve got a problem. And you need
to face it.
A standoff. Then...
You should go get a little sunshine
in the morning. This locking
yourself in and catching reruns of
Dr. Drew isn’t healthy.
Dean goes for the door. Sam blocks him.
Come on, Sam! Really?
Sam shoves Dean. He whips the bottle at him. It smashes
against the wall.
Dean dazed into silence. Sam grabs his coat, stalks out of
INT. FIDEL’S APARTMENT - RESUME
Dean, still in Sam’s skin, laughs at Sam.
You think, after all I’ve been
through? You and me together? And
apart? That I can’t manage?
You have an addiction.
Again, Dean laughs. He downs his third shot. Shoves the glass
It’s not that easy--
--As long as I’m in here, in this
freakishly long meat suit of yours,
I’m done. And do you want to know
--Because you’re weak, Sam. I’m in
here, and I can feel it!
Sam looks away. He catches sight of Fidel, arms crossed as he
quietly enjoys the show.
A lock rattles. The apartment door opens, and Lorna steps in.
Fidel greets her with a kiss and a hug.
Hello, Sam. Dean. What did I miss?
No breakthrough yet.
Well. It’s early.
Dean scrutinizes Sam. Then he’s back to Lorna.
Just how did you sucker my brother
Come on, Dean. Give it a chance.
Have another drink.
Right. Like that makes any sense.
One of the first steps to recovery
is admitting your own addiction.
Until then, enjoy.
The look on Dean’s face says he’s not buying it.
Lorna meets his glare head on. She pulls out a business card,
hands it over with a grin.
Lorna Rosser. Wiccan Therapist.
Well, that’s convenient. A witch,
Sam? A therapist?!
Yeah! A therapist!
INT. DIVE BAR - FLASHBACK - NIGHT
Sam hangs at the end of the bar, oblivious to the pole
dancers behind him. He stares at the bottom of his glass, the
half empty bottle beside him waits to again meet with that
Lorna steps up to him as she polishes a glass.
Is it terminal?
Is it obvious?
When a man is more engrossed in the
pattern of my counter than he is in
the spectacle behind him, I’d say
He pours. Lorna keeps staring at him. Then she pulls out her
card and places it before Sam.
If you want to talk about it. This
is my office. First chat is on the
Sam smirks at the title.
What, you don’t believe in the
To be honest? I don’t think
anything “supernatural” would work.
Trust me, you aren’t my first
skeptic. Which is why I moonlight
at this lovely dive. Like I said.
First chat on the house.
effectively dulled his senses.
My brother is an alcoholic.
Lorna eyes Sam’s bottle. She reaches for it.
What do you say I just give you a
No no no... This isn’t me--
This isn’t normally me. But after
tonight, he just drove me to drink.
Lorna leans in close.
What’s your name?
Sam? Let’s talk about your brother.
INT. FIDEL’S APARTMENT - RESUME
Dean, in Sam’s skin, glares at Lorna.
So that’s it? You were there the
whole time? Why don’t I remember?
I left before you tried to bust
each other’s heads open. Not that
you would have remembered. By the
time you got there you were half
I was with... a lady friend. Had to
make sure she got home safely.
Lorna suggested role playing, but
for real, which is why...
Sam indicates the switch.
I find it quite therapeutic--
--Try overdramatic. I mean, the
story with the murders? And Toby
Maguire? Come on!
Lorna shrugs, unapologetic.
Would you have come if there hadn’t
been some story?
If you had tried to do any
research, you might have caught on--
--so you lied to me. And that's
okay with you.
I knew you wouldn’t agree to it,
Dean. So we waited. Until you were
passed out drunk... Unfortunately,
I was too.
I was there. Watched you two break
up the place like rivals in a biker
joint. It was a hoot! Then I helped
Fidel helps Sam and Dean, both armed with bottles in their
hands, stagger through the door. Lorna is already there, a
makeshift altar set up to perform her spell as Fidel sits Sam
and Dean down at a table.
Fidel clears off Sam’s computer and Hebrew books. He notes
the topic, sits off to the side intrigued as Lorna recites an
Sam and Dean glare at each other.
Screw you, Dean.
Screw you too.
Lorna finishes her spell. A flash of fire in a bowl of Wiccan
herbs and the switch is complete. Sam, now in Dean’s skin,
and Dean now in Sam’s, although it’s hard to tell as the
brothers continue to lock glares.
Fidel snoops through Sam’s computer, even more intrigued. He
pulls Lorna over to take a look.
Hey... you. Who are you again?
I drove you home.
Good man! See, Sam? There are still
good people in the world.
“Dean” drops his bottle. He staggers to the mini fridge.
Pulls out a beer.
“Sam” stirs from near passing out. He sees Fidel snooping.
Is that my computer? Dude, don’t
take my computer...
Fidel closes up the computer, easily dodges “Sam” as he heads
out the door with it.
Lorna steps up to Sam’s skin. Gives him a good hearted kiss
on the cheek.
Find me in the morning, sweetheart.
You betchya! Money’s on the
He glances over his shoulder toward “Sam”.
Dude. That guy took your computer.
“Dean” looks back over his shoulder. Finds “Sam” passed out
on the floor.
Yeah, well don’t blame me... Still
wet behind those Dumbo ears of
“Dean” heads for one of the beds, actually stumbles over
“Sam’s” feet. He does a face plant into the mattress.
No problem. He takes one last swig of beer, drops the bottle.
EXT. DINGY MOTEL - NIGHT
Fidel and Lorna climb into Lorna's car. Fidel pulls open
Sam's computer for both of them to view.
What is all this?
Looks like your new friend has some
This is big. Really big!
before Lorna starts the car and pulls away.
INT. FIDEL’S APARTMENT
Sam, in Dean’s skin, and Dean, in Sam’s skin, square off once
So this is how it is? You want to
talk about addiction? Let’s talk
I don’t have one.
“I don’t have one.” Tell me how it
feels seeing that come out of your
Sam doesn’t lose eye contact.
I’m okay with it--
--No you aren’t!
It was different.
Oh, I think not.
The difference is I kicked it.
For how long? Because right now? I
feel it deep in your bones. Demon
blood, Sam. You want it. You crave
it. You know it.
Dean doesn’t respond. He simply waits for Sam to get
I didn't have a choice! and this
isn’t about me. It’s about you.
You’re not going to turn it around.
Not this time--
--Do you know what I feel? Inside
Dean taps the chest of his Sam meat suit.
I feel your heart struggling to
take that next beat. You’re weak.
You’re tired. And you don’t know if
you’ll make it through to the next
day. And it scares the crap out of
you because you know what’s waiting
on the other side.
continue to listen.
And you certainly wouldn’t tell me.
You think to yourself, “if only I
had a little help. A little bit of
that warm, rich blood to keep me
--You know what I feel inside you?
Nothing. No hope. Everything you do
only results in a pile of useless
regret. Same old song. Dust in the
wind. And that bottle between us?
It makes you numb to it. Takes the
edge off until the inevitable end,
when you’ll go back to hell and be
beaten down to dust for the rest of
Is that what you think?
You caved in hell, Dean. You’re the
Are we done, here?
Lorna closes in with a smile.
I think we’re this close to a
Dean shoves himself up out of his chair. Lorna backs off.
Sam looks up at Dean towering over him.
So this is it? This is what you
think of me? The one who sold his
soul to get your life back?
That was your decision, not mine--
--In spite of the fact that I knew
that something inside this noggin
was just evil?--
Is that what I am? Evil?
You’re broken! Scarred! You think
the weight of the world has to rest
on these shoulders right up here,
and these shoulders alone, and I’m
here to tell you that that’s not
the way it is!
You’re not describing me! You’re
--It’s like looking in a mirror.
Oh, you can’t see yourself? Is that
it? Here, let me show you what I
see all the time!
his version of Dean in exaggeration.
Hey, Sam! How’s that research
going? You know what? Save it! I’ve
got a hot date with Nurse Syphilis
in the room down the hall! I’ll
pretend to be involved later!
Yeah? Let’s play up you! Only I
need a hit of demon blood to get it
right. Make sure you tie me down
and let me detox so you can get the
CROWLEY, former King of the Crossroads, current demon King of
Hell, appears comfortably seated on a couch behind Lorna. He
has Sam’s open computer in his lap.
That could be arranged. I mean, if
you really want it, Sam.
Sam and Dean exchange worried glances. They back down from
It’s... Dean. I’m Dean.
Oh, right. Don’t really care.
Why do you have my computer?
Crowley gets to his feet, closes in on them.
You can thank the Wiccan therapist
and her flunky for that--
The point is that I have it, I’ve
read your notes, and I have to ask
why you haven’t shared them with
INT. FIDEL’S APARTMENT - FLASHBACK - DAY
Remnants of a demon summoning ceremony behind them, Lorna
leans over Crowley’s shoulder as he peruses documents on
Crowley looks very intrigued.
Get me a scotch. Neat.
Fidel, in the background, scrambles to find scotch.
Crowley grumbles. He snaps his fingers. A scotch, neat,
materializes in his hand.
INT. FIDEL’S APARTMENT - RESUME
Crowley stands before Dean.
She offered me the information here
in exchange for, well... Let’s say
that it’s the first time I’ve ever
made a deal that didn’t involve a
Wiccan therapy. It’s the newest
Lorna steps in, gives Crowley a willing kiss on the cheek.
So out with it, Sam.
It’s just a theory. It’s too
A theory for what?
You know, Dean, I think Sam is the
winner here. You really should pay
Dean grabs the computer, squints at the screen without a clue
about what he’s looking for.
Crowley makes a quick turn on his heel toward Lorna.
You know, sweetheart? Let’s end
this little therapy session. Hour’s
almost up, and they can’t afford
much more than that.
them to an occult circle laid out on the floor.
Sit down, take each other’s hand,
and repeat after me.
And we're just supposed to trust
you? With him here?
What other choice do you have?
Dean and Sam grudgingly hold hands.
Anime domo mediat...
INT. FIDEL’S APARTMENT - LATER
Sam and Dean, passed out on the floor like drunkards. Their
wrists share a cuff that’s laced around the pipe of a
Sam (it’s really him this time) is the first to stir. He
registers the restraint around his wrist. He registers Dean.
Dean. Wake up.
blood that streams from a gash down his wrist. He panics.
I went a little deep. Sorry.
examines its color.
Sam tries to stave his bleeding by pressing the wound against
No reaction. Dean is out.
Crowley leans in.
Like I said, Sam. We need to talk.
INT. FIDEL’S APARTMENT
Crowley steps away from Sam. He paces as Sam tries to nudge
Dean into consciousness.
He’s not going to wake up. At least
not yet. So lets discuss this
little theory of yours.
Crowley sets the snifter full of Sam’s blood down between
another empty one, and a third that holds a viscous black
Why do you need my blood?
Oh, I don’t know. Call me
Crowley holds his own wrist over the empty glass, gives Lorna
the okay to slash. His blood drains into the empty snifter.
Crowley, don’t do this-
-Don’t do this? It’s your theory.
And it’s a grand one, if I do say
It’s just a theory! I don’t know if
Crowley staves the blood from his cut. Let’s Lorna put a
ducky bandaid over it. He rolls down his sleeve as he again
You need to accept that we are on
the same team here.
Look, I know we’ve had our
--I can’t do it! If you give me
your blood, I will crave it. And I
won’t stop. Don’t make me do this.
Who said anything about you?
So this whole intervention was part
of some grand plan?
No. That was your screw up. I just
got lucky. You and Dean and your
predictable angst! GET OVER
Sam yanks at his cuff again.
Why Dean? Why not me?
See? There you go, changing your
story again. But think about it.
The bleeding angels from on high
once had Dean earmarked as a
vessel. For an Archangel. For the
Archangel. Michael. The guy must
have some pretty tough skin to be
able to hold in that kind of power.
And you, well, not to be hard Sam.
But Dean was right. You’re broken.
--I won’t let you do it.
Oh, I’m not asking for permission.
But lighten up. We both want the
same end to this.
The end of leviathan. One fell
swoop. Am I warm?
Sam gives a hesitant nod.
Crowley leans back against the table. Lorna and Fidel
scrutinize the three glasses.
Please don’t touch those.
Deciphering the word of God proving
to be a challenge, is it?
Yeah, thanks for your help with
It wouldn’t be any fun, otherwise.
The best pupils learn on their own--
Crowley grins. He paces a bit.
So, your precious Cass wasn’t
strong enough to hold in the
leviathan, but I’ll wager Dean is.
An archangel’s vessel reinforced
with the strength of demon blood.
Take in the leviathan, carry them
back to the gates of purgatory, put
them back in. Problem solved.
And if Dean’s not strong enough?
Then we’ll go to plan B. You. But
I’m wagering on Dean. And this
little experiment will help us find
Crowley waves his hand over the line of snifters.
One, two, three. Beheaded
leviathan, your blood, my blood.
Why my blood?
Sam. You built up a tolerance to
demon blood since you were six
months old. The amount he’ll need
to stay strong? Without a tolerance
level? Nasty heartburn. Your blood
in his veins, it’s like... an
No? Sam, it was your idea--
--Because I thought that if it
worked, it would be me. But it
won’t work! The word of God says--
Blah blah blah! It wouldn’t be the
first time the ‘word’ was wrong.
I won’t let you.
Crowley snaps his fingers. Dean startles awake.
Hold him down.
The big one.
hands it to Crowley.
What’s going on.
Sam? What happened? What’s going
Crowley intervenes with a psychic hold on Dean.
Hurry up, love. My hands are busy.
into the syringe.
What’s that? What are you doing?
Lorna tries to pass off the syringe to Crowley.
You do it. Make it more of a treat.
Lorna pulls open Dean’s arm.
Crowley! I don’t like this! It’s
--Relax. You won’t feel a thing.
Dean tenses, unable to fight. Lorna finds the vein, jams the
needle in. Plunger down.
What are you giving me?
A little bit of demon juice, little
bit of leviathan sludge. The
designer drug of the century...
Best thing since Bath Salts. Don’t
worry, though. I was careful.
Terror in Dean’s eyes. Crowley winks.
Lorna pulls the syringe free. Crowley releases his hold on
Dean. Fidel backs away from Sam as Sam shakes off the effects
of the sock to the face.
All eyes on Dean. They watch.
Dean holds his arm, watches the poison in the vein throb
through the skin as it moves up toward his shoulder with the
beat of his heart.
How does it feel?
Dean’s breaths quicken. He tries to scratch the thing out as
the throb travels up his carotid, up into his brain. And it
hits him. A sudden spasm before his eyes roll up into his
head and he goes slack.
It was worth a shot.
Worth a shot?! You sonofabitch--
Dean’s eyes snap open. Black as leviathan blood. His free
hand snaps up, clamps onto Crowley’s throat. Black smoke
pulled out of Crowley’s lungs as Dean exorcises the demon out
Crowley breaks free. He falls back, the smoke retreats back
Dean turns to Sam, finds their wrists cuffed together. He
slips his hand around the links. Snaps them.
Fidel grabs hold of Sam before he can run, uses Sam as a
barrier between himself and Dean.
Dean takes Sam, throws him with disregard into a wall. He
snaps Fidel’s neck.
Dean heads for Lorna. Her scream cut short by another neck
snap. Dean stands over her lifeless body and just stares at
Sam remains crumpled at the base of the wall.
Dean sees the brandy snifters, still in a line. He grabs the
one full of Sam’s blood. Downs it.
Dean grabs Crowley’s vintage, defiantly downs that. Then he
grabs the leviathan ooze. He waits.
Don’t do it.
an addictive shiver through his veins. He whips the glass.
It smashes near Sam’s head.
Is this what you want? Is this what
I look like to you?
Dean stalks out of the apartment.
EXT. FIDEL’S APARTMENT
Dean comes out of the apartment. He crosses the street, no
intention of reaching his own car.
Sam hurries out too. He wraps his coat around his cut wrist.
Sees a passing car screech to a halt as Dean steps in front
Dean’s response, his fist through the car’s windshield. Hand
bloodied from the punch, he keeps walking.
Sam hurries to reach his own parked car.
Sam slips behind the wheel, about to turn the motor over when
he’s startled by Crowley’s appearance in the passenger seat.
You forgot something.
Crowley hands Sam his laptop.
Thought I’d pass it along before
you’re out of my radar.
You’re stalling me.
Stalling you? I’m doing you a favor-
This isn’t a favor!
Oh don’t worry. Dean’s like a dog.
He’ll eventually find his way home.
But we should talk about this. Your
research. It’s good stuff. I am
fumbles the key into the ignition. Crowley intervenes.
Why would you do this?! Why?!
Because you and I have something in
common. The leviathan have proven
to be a real pain in my arse even
without Dick Roman. My kind don’t
like their kind, and their kind...
well, you get the picture. You want
to kill leviathan. I want to put
them back in their place. Funny
thing is, they think the same of
us. So there you have it. Our
little war effects the outcome of
everything. And I mean everything.
Sam? Look at you. You truly are
You you you... You did this!
No, you did. I just took advantage
of a golden opportunity.
Look, your idea is going to work.
This won’t stay in him, it’s a
trial run. I made sure of that...
So when you find Dean, and you will
find him, think about what just
happened in there, and how we can
use it to reach both of our goals.
He pats Sam a little too hard on the cheek, then disappears.
Sam takes a breath, He turns the engine over. Guns it.
Sam arrives through the half open door, coat wrapped around
his cut wrist, laptop safely tucked under his arm.
Retching from the bathroom. Sam takes cautious steps toward
it, stops cold at the sight of Dean coming out of it.
Dean is wrecked. Even if he was a ghost he couldn’t look
paler. Black sweat seeps out of every pore. Even his tear
ducts have been bleeding black. One eye has burst its
The hand he used to punch through the windshield looks bloody
Dean leans up against the bathroom door jamb and assesses
Sam’s terrified expression.
I think I’m good, now.
Wrong. He lurches toward the sink, spits up more black
disease. He comes up out of the basin with more blackness
oozing out of his nose.
Sam steps up, tries to help. Dean finds the strength to shove
him back. He gets in Sam’s face.
You think you know my pain? I mean
really know it? You, with your all
kinds of crazy! And you can’t
justify my need to dull the senses
once in a while?
I was just trying to help--
Dean shivers, loses strength in his legs. Sam helps ease him
to the floor. He abandons Dean long enough to find toilet
paper to blot Dean’s nose.
--I know what it is, Sam! I watched
it too many times with you.
Dean pushes him back.
I said don’t!
Sam stops. He watches in torment.
I’m sorry... I didn’t know what to
--Just give me a little space.
Sam backs off. Returns with a blanket to help keep Dean warm.
I guess this proves your little
theory, huh? That I’m the weak one?
You should be happy.
No... good answer. But wrong and
you know it. I am weak. And that
little concoction of Crowley’s...
disintegrates into a sob. Sam reaches out again.
Dean, if this is how it leaves you,
there’s no way--
I said give me space!
Sam backs away, watches Dean curl up in a ball and shiver.
Dean scratches at exposed skin hard enough to draw blood.
Sam reaches a chair and watches. Helpless.
Used glasses and a bottle rest on the table beside him. Sam’s
own hand shakes as it embraces a glass. He downs the
remnants, pours himself another.
He watches Dean detox. Scared.
FADE TO BLACK.