Now - An alarm goes off at 6 AM and is shut off. The Kinks' "A Well-Respected Man" plays on the soundtrack as Dean, in a blue and white striped shirt, RED SUSPENDERS and a red tie prepares a latte from his own machine, using rice milk. He lives in a high rise apartment with many windows and an incredible view. He climbs into his Toyota Prius, rejects "Well Respected Man" on the radio and a rock 'n' roll song in favor of NPR Morning Edition, which he leaves on with a satisfied smile. His licens... read more Now - An alarm goes off at 6 AM and is shut off. The Kinks' "A Well-Respected Man" plays on the soundtrack as Dean, in a blue and white striped shirt, RED SUSPENDERS and a red tie prepares a latte from his own machine, using rice milk. He lives in a high rise apartment with many windows and an incredible view. He climbs into his Toyota Prius, rejects "Well Respected Man" on the radio and a rock 'n' roll song in favor of NPR Morning Edition, which he leaves on with a satisfied smile. His license plate reads OTO29C. He enters a big, shiny building and takes the elevator to his floor, Sandover Bridge and Iron--Building the Dream, says a huge mural on his floor. His office door tells us he is Dean Smith, Director, Sales & Marketing, and a very fancy clock tells us it's only 7:30 AM and he's already at work, typing away on his computer. He fake laughs with a client on his headset in his window-swept office, talks sitting on his desk about PROJECT RUNWAY with a co-worker, and at 12:10, sweeps his tie over his shoulder and eats a healthy salad for lunch, chewing with his mouth closed! He's on the phone, working hard, when his boss enters and slaps him on the back, assuring him, "Good stuff" and "big things." When it's dark outside his windows, he's still in his office, discussing the bloat he's getting around his middle and what a sedentary lifestyle he leads. Someone gives him a recipe for a good "cleanse": lemon, cayenne and maple syrup. Impressed with how much the caller lost, he takes down the information. At 6:30, he packs up to leave, gazing at his cell phone. He enters the elevator to find himself with a Sam look-alike, who stares at him and finally asks, "Do I know you?" "I don't think so," replies Dean. "I'm sorry, but you just look really familiar," insists the other man. "Save it for the health club, pal," urges Dean as the elevator doors close. When they open, the Sam look-alike is still staring, puzzled, at the other man as Dean exits and walks off. read less

Title

In a recurring scene of office drudgery shown throughout this episode, we see paper coming out of a copy machine with the requisite whine; paperwork going through a fax machine with the usual mechanical noise, a pencil grinding in a sharpener. The Sam look-alike sits in a beehive of cubicles, pressing the button on a blinking phone, "Tech support, this is Sam Wesson. OK, did you try turning it off and then on?" He taps the head of a very funny Dracula bobble-head with his pencil as he says, "OK,... read more In a recurring scene of office drudgery shown throughout this episode, we see paper coming out of a copy machine with the requisite whine; paperwork going through a fax machine with the usual mechanical noise, a pencil grinding in a sharpener. The Sam look-alike sits in a beehive of cubicles, pressing the button on a blinking phone, "Tech support, this is Sam Wesson. OK, did you try turning it off and then on?" He taps the head of a very funny Dracula bobble-head with his pencil as he says, "OK, turn it off. . .no, just off. Give it a second. . .turn it back on. Is it printing now? Great, anytime." He gets rid of the call, rolls his eyes and turns to co-worker Ian (not dressed in the same yellow tech shirt as Sam and all the other drones) who asks, "What do you think of Mimi?" "She's OK," answers Sam. "Might have to hit that," says Ian. "Totally age-inappropriate," says Sam, grossed out. "Experience," says Ian. "Trifocals," counters Sam. "There's a MILF there, Sam, I just know it," says Ian, "maybe a gumMilf." "Come on!" begs Sam, and they agree to a coffee break. They stop to ask Paul, an older man, to join them. "No time," says Paul, working frantically. "We get paid by the hour," Ian reminds him. "WORKING!" insists Paul, so they leave him alone. "He seems stressed," observes Sam. "Probably freaked because he got caught surfing porn on the internet," says Ian, "he got sent up to HR yesterday--guess they put the fear of God in him." Once in the break room, Sam catches Ian filling his pockets with company pencils from a closet. "Just doing a little shopping," says Ian, taking a cup of coffee from Sam, "running low at home. So, Sam, any of those dreams lately?" Sam turns away, reluctant. "Come on," says Ian, "it's the highlight of my day." Sam regrets telling him in the first place, even though Ian dubs them "Genius--don't hold out on me, dude--share with the class." "You're just gonna be a dick about it," insists Sam. Ian promises not to say a word, pledges total respect. "I dreamed that I saved a Grim Reaper named Tessa from demons," confesses Sam. Ian barely covers up a laugh. "CLASSIC!" he cries. "How much D&D did you play when you were a kid? OK," he adds, laughing, "rescuing the Grim Reaper, you're a hero, I mean, thank God we've got Harry Potter here to save us from the apocalypse!" "Dick," says Sam. "WIZARD!" responds Ian. (That reminded me of the bitch/jerk exchange between Sam and Dean.) read less

(Copier/Fax/Pencil sharpener) - We see a view of the hive of Sam's fellow techies from above, each person in their little space, then Sam, so tall, crammed into his. Yawning, he leans his head on his hand and falls asleep, dreaming about himself shooting the comely crossroads demon and the shtriga, sweeping away a little demon girl, Dean cutting off a vampire's head. He awakens with a start, leaves his desk and enters the elevator. He stares at Dean, who's in there, too. Everyone files off exce... read more (Copier/Fax/Pencil sharpener) - We see a view of the hive of Sam's fellow techies from above, each person in their little space, then Sam, so tall, crammed into his. Yawning, he leans his head on his hand and falls asleep, dreaming about himself shooting the comely crossroads demon and the shtriga, sweeping away a little demon girl, Dean cutting off a vampire's head. He awakens with a start, leaves his desk and enters the elevator. He stares at Dean, who's in there, too. Everyone files off except them at the next floor. Sam, very uncomfortable, finally says, "Can I ask you a question?" "Look man," says Dean, "I told you, I'm not into the uh. . ." "Oh, dude, come on, I'm not either," says Sam, annoyed, "I just want to ask you ONE question--what do you think about. . .ghosts? Do you believe in 'em?" Dean hasn't given it much thought. "Vampires?" asks Sam. "What? Why?" asks Dean, chuckling. "Because I've been having some weird dreams lately," admits Sam. Dean says he hasn't been having any weird dreams, and, pushing the elevator buttons over and over adds, "I don't know you, but, I'm gonna do a public service and let you know that you overshare." The elevator arrives at his floor and Dean hastily exits. Sam looks as if he feels like a fool. (Copier/Fax/Pencil sharpener) - At his desk, Sam draws pictures of vampires and the other spooky creatures from his nightmares while telling another idiot on the phone to turn a computer off and then on again. He surreptitiously searches the web for information about vampires. Ian appears behind him. He's been told to "Report to HR." Perhaps he's been caught snaking all those office supplies, suggests Sam. "I hope they spank me," jokes Ian. Hearing Paul begging his computer "Don't do this to me, please!", Sam stands and asks Paul if he's OK. "It froze," says Paul. "They're crap," Sam reminds him. "You don't understand," says Paul, "when I re-booted, everything was gone, a whole day's work deleted!" Paul didn't back up, either, but he's determined to get it back, as his frantic typing attests. "These things happen," Sam assures him. Seeing the wrong thing on his computer screen, Paul looks like he's going to explode. (LATER) Alone in the break room, Paul realizes he can't retrieve his lost information; he's failed. Walking like an automaton, he takes a plastic fork, breaks off the tines and jams it into the door lock. He sets the microwave for 10 minutes, lays his head inside and presses the START button. As his face begins to sprout burns and Paul starts screaming in pain, the camera moves to a sign posted on the cabinet above the microwave: DON'T HEAT UP YOUR FISH HERE IT STINKS! THANK YOU The microwave dings. Paul is done. read less

Sam watches sadly as Paul's body is wheeled away by the coroner. He catches Dean's eye. Dean is concerned, too, but other employees milling around who probably didn't know Paul are just curious. Sam catches Dean's eyes and they exchange a long look. "Does something about this seem not right to you?" Dean asks a similarly-dressed co-worker standing beside him. "Yeah," the other man agrees, "the whole thing. I'm telling you, man, I'll never eat popcorn again." (dolt! That's the big lesson?) "Yeah... read more Sam watches sadly as Paul's body is wheeled away by the coroner. He catches Dean's eye. Dean is concerned, too, but other employees milling around who probably didn't know Paul are just curious. Sam catches Dean's eyes and they exchange a long look. "Does something about this seem not right to you?" Dean asks a similarly-dressed co-worker standing beside him. "Yeah," the other man agrees, "the whole thing. I'm telling you, man, I'll never eat popcorn again." (dolt! That's the big lesson?) "Yeah, right," agrees Dean. He returns to his office and sees that Paul Dunbar was due to retire in two weeks. (TECH SUPPORT) - Sam wheels himself next to Ian, who is actually wearing the yellow company shirt, and asks, "Why would someone kill themselves two weeks before they were supposed to retire? Paul was TWO WEEKS from freedom. He shoulda been. . .happy. Right?" Ian turns. "I don't have TIME for this, Sam," he says. "That's very funny," says Sam, laughing, then he REALLY notices his co-worker. "What's with you?" "I'm WORKING," snaps Ian, "it's important." "HR bust your balls or somethin'? asks Sam, "you're wearin' the shirt! Did you shave?" "Tech support, this is Ian," says his friend, ignoring him. "Be right up. I gotta go up to 22, speak to a manager." He stands, straightens his clothes, and leaves. Sam stares after him, weirded-out. Ian reports to Dean's office. Seems he filled out a 445T with a few errors. No biggie, Dean assures him, with the changeover to Vista, he just needs him to fill out another one correctly so he can get the show on the road with the invoicing. Ian is horrified. His error affected profits! "I screwed up! I am SO sorry! I failed Sandover. I failed the company." Dean urges him to sit down, but Ian flees his office. Dean finds him in the men's room, staring at himself in the mirror. "Just chill out," urges Dean, who can suddenly, ironically, see his own breath in the frigid air in the bathroom. When Dean sees all the sinks and soap dispensers turn on by themselves, he says, "Maybe we should get out of here, huh? Come on--Ian! Look at me!" Ian reaches into his pocket and grabs out a sharpened pencil. Dean is scared, wondering if the other man is going to harm him, but Ian jabs it into his neck. Blood flows quickly from the mortal wound. Dean kneels, having no idea what to do to help the dying man, and sees reflected in the mirror a stern, balding old man wearing old-fashioned clothes. When he looks in front of the mirror, however, no one is standing there, and another glance at the reflection shows it, too, has disappeared, too. Ian moans and dies. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!" yells Dean. (HALLWAY) - Ian's body is taken away by the coroner. Dean explains to the cops, "I followed him into the bathroom; he was standing there in front of the mirror, and he stabbed himself in the neck." He and Sam are staring at each other, Sam seeming almost accusatory. "I'm sorry," adds Dean, finishing his statement. (Copier/Fax/Pencil sharpener)
read less

Sam answers his phone. It's Dean. "I need to see you in my office--NOW!" Dean is changing his blood-stained shirt, into blue and white vertical stripes. Sam arrives. "Who the hell are you?" asks Dean. "I'm not sure I know," says Sam. "What the hell does that mean?" asks Dean. "Sam Wesson, I started here three weeks ago." "All right, you cornered me in the elevator, talkin' about ghosts, and now. . .now nothin'. So you started here three weeks ago?" Sam nods. "Yeah, me, too," says Dean, opening h... read more Sam answers his phone. It's Dean. "I need to see you in my office--NOW!" Dean is changing his blood-stained shirt, into blue and white vertical stripes. Sam arrives. "Who the hell are you?" asks Dean. "I'm not sure I know," says Sam. "What the hell does that mean?" asks Dean. "Sam Wesson, I started here three weeks ago." "All right, you cornered me in the elevator, talkin' about ghosts, and now. . .now nothin'. So you started here three weeks ago?" Sam nods. "Yeah, me, too," says Dean, opening his bottle of Master Cleanse. You tried it? It's phenomenal, detoxes you like nobody's business." He drinks. "When you were in that bathroom with Ian, did you see something?" asks Sam. "I don't know what I saw," admits Dean. "Did you see a GHOST?" asks Sam. "I was freaking out," says Dean, "the guy penciled his damn neck!" His body language answers yes. "You did, didn't you?" says Sam--"What if the suicides AREN'T suicides? What if there's something. . .not natural?" "So what, ghosts are real?" asks Dean. "And they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here, is that what you're telling me?" Both men sit down on opposite sides of the desk. "I know it wounds crazy," says Sam, "but yes, that's what I'm telling you." "Based on what?" demands Dean. "Instinct," says Sam. "I've got the same instinct," says Dean. "Seriously?" asks Sam "You know those dreams I was telling you about? I was dreaming about ghosts--and then it turns out there's a REAL ghost!" "So are you telling me your dreams are visions and you're some kind of psychic?" asks Dean. "No!" says Sam, "that would be nuts, I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, so I've been digging around a little, and I think I found a connection between the two guys." He shows Dean a piece of paper. "You broke into their e-mail accounts?" asks Dean. "I used some skills that I happen to have," says Sam, "to satisfy my curiosity." "Nice," opines Dean. "Ian and Paul both got this same e-mail telling them to report to HR, room 1444." "HR's on seven," says Dean. "Exactly," agrees Sam. "Should we go check this out?" asks Dean. "Right now?" asks Sam. "No," says Dean, "it's getting late, you're right." They make eye contact. "I am DYING to check this out right now," confesses Sam. "Right?" agrees Dean. A fellow techie reports, alone, to room 1444. He enters what appears to be a computer graveyard, just shelves of computer parts. "Hello?" calls the man. "Hello?" The door behind him slams closes and he finds he's locked in. Computer screens abruptly turn on by themselves and he sees his own breath in the icy air. Sam and Dean, turning the corner in the hallway, hear him crying out. When Sam tries the door and finds it locked, he kicks the door in, to Dean's surprise and admiration. A shelf has fallen down on Sam's fellow techie, but when he tries to lift it off, the nasty ghost appears and flings both Dean and Sam away. The ghost has electricity arcing between his thumb and other fingers and is about to touch that to the face of the man lying on the floor. Dean grabs an iron wrench and with one mighty sweep, sends the ghost away. After they lift the shelf off their co-worker man, Sam asks Dean, "How did you learn to do that?" "I have no idea," replies Dean. Clearly, they think it's really cool.

read less

(DEAN'S APARTMENT) - Dean, stressed out, takes a hearty swallow of his cleanse. "Holy crap, dude!" he says. "Yeah, I could use a beer," agrees Sam. "Sorry, man, I'm on the cleanse, I got rid of all the carbs in the house," says Dean. He hands Sam a bottle of water. "How the hell did you know ghosts were scared of wrenches?" asks Sam. "Crazy, right?" says Dean. "And nice job kickin' in that door, too; that was very Jet Li; what are you, a Black Belt or somethin'?" "No!" says Sam, incredulous. "I ... read more (DEAN'S APARTMENT) - Dean, stressed out, takes a hearty swallow of his cleanse. "Holy crap, dude!" he says. "Yeah, I could use a beer," agrees Sam. "Sorry, man, I'm on the cleanse, I got rid of all the carbs in the house," says Dean. He hands Sam a bottle of water. "How the hell did you know ghosts were scared of wrenches?" asks Sam. "Crazy, right?" says Dean. "And nice job kickin' in that door, too; that was very Jet Li; what are you, a Black Belt or somethin'?" "No!" says Sam, incredulous. "I have no clue how I did that--it's like, we've done this before." "What do you mean, before?" asks Dean--"Like Shirley MacClaine before?" "No," says Sam, "I just can't shake this feeling like I don't belong here, ya know what I mean, like I should do something MORE than sit in a cubicle." "I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way," says Dean, drinking more cleanse. "It's more than that," says Sam, "I don't like my job, I don't like this town, I don't like my clothes! I don't like my own last name! I don't know how else to explain it, except. . .it feels like I should be doin' something else. It's just. . .somethin' in my blood--like I was destined for something different. Ever feel that way?" (Go with that, Sammy, it's the demon portion talking!) "I don't believe in destiny," replies Dean, "I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though." "All right, so what do we do now?" Sam asks. "We do what I do best, Sammy," says Dean, "research!" (SAMMY? RESEARCH? DEAN? HAHAHAHAHA!) "OK. . .did you just call me Sammy?" asks Sam. "Did I?" asks Dean. "I think you did," says Sam, making icky faces, "don't." "Sorry," says Dean. (LATER) -Dean, on the net, calls out, "JACKPOT! I just found the best site ever--real, actual ghosthunters. These guys are genius--check it out." Sam joins him at his computer for an instructional video, and it's none other than the Ghostfacers" site, starring the Winchesters' old enemies! When told to figure out what they're up against, more computer research reveals the ghost is P. T. Sandover, founder of the company. Dean recognizes him as the ghost. Sam reads: He died in 1916, unmarried, childless, used to say he was the company and his blood pumped through the building. "Maybe he's still here, watching over the company, even killing for it," suggests Dean. "Plus," adds Sam, now seated at the computer, "turns out this isn't the first time people have killed themselves inside the building--1929." "Lotsa guys jumped off lotsa high-rises that year," says Dean. "How many companies had 17 suicides?" asks Sam. "OK, so P. T. Sandover, protector of the company, his ghost wakes up and becomes active during times of great economic distress." And the worst time they've seen since the Great Depression is now, they agree. "I know, it sucks," says Dean, closing his eyes in distress, "my portfolio is in the sewer, I don't even wanna talk about it." Sam, looking like he WISHES he had such a problem, says, "So Sanover's helping the bottom line. . ." "By zapping some model employees," finishes Dean. "I mean, Ian and Paul, it was like he turned them into different people," says Sam. "Perfect worker bees, exactly," says Dean, "so devoted to the company, they'd commit hari kari if they failed it." Sam finds one more interesting fact--the building didn't used to be that high--it used to be 14 floors. The room where the ghost attacked, 1444, once upon a time, was the old man's office. They return to the Ghostfacers' site, where they are told, "Once you've got that thing in your sight, KILL IT!" Salt is like acid to ghosts. Next, iron. "That's why the wrench worked," realizes Sam. Next, explain the Ghostfacers, is a trick learned from those useless douchebags who we hate, the Winchesters, a gun filled with shotgun shells filled with rock salt. It's very effective--but the Winchesters still suck ass. read less

Dean and Sam fill a gym bag with the necessary items for ghostfacing. They agree it will be impossible to get their hands on a gun. They return to the Ghostfacers site, where they are told the Winchester douchenozzles taught them to burn the remains. Sometimes, grossly, you have to dig up the body, illegal in ALL states. Learning that Sandover was cremated, Dean and Sam wonder what they do now. The Ghostfacers have the answer--look for other remains--hair in a locket, fingernail clippings, baby ... read more Dean and Sam fill a gym bag with the necessary items for ghostfacing. They agree it will be impossible to get their hands on a gun. They return to the Ghostfacers site, where they are told the Winchester douchenozzles taught them to burn the remains. Sometimes, grossly, you have to dig up the body, illegal in ALL states. Learning that Sandover was cremated, Dean and Sam wonder what they do now. The Ghostfacers have the answer--look for other remains--hair in a locket, fingernail clippings, baby teeth, any genetic material. "Fight well, young lions." "God speed," urge the Ghostfacers. (SANDOVER BUILDING) - Standing in front of the elevator, Sam and Dean set up their cell phones as walkie talkies. "How are we going to find a speck of DNA in a skyscraper?" wonders Sam. Dean suggests they start with the storeroom that used to be Sandover's office. They head to the 14th floor. Sam searches a desk while Dean looks in more general locations. Unfortunately, Sam is caught by a security guard, who insists on taking him to the cops. Dean watches Sam leave with consternation on his face. Sam, in full bitchface, gets on the elevator with the security guard. The screen with the day's weather forecast blinks, then goes fuzzy; Sam, scared, sees his breath in front of him. The elevator begins to fall! The security guard pushes his key into the emergency stop and halts the elevator--between floors. He pushes the doors apart. "Well, come on," he says. "What?" asks Sam, frightened. "Last time this happened, it took them two hours to get here," says the guard. "Let's just wait," says Sam, terrified. The guard jumps up and shimmies out, Sam watching his every movement nervously. (ROOM 1444) - Dean continues to search for Sandover DNA and finds a photo of a bridge over which is written "Building the Dream." (ELEVATOR) - The guard crouches down, waiting to help Sam out. "Seriously," says Sam, "I'll wait." "Look," says the guard, leaning into the car, "I don't have the rest of my life." At that moment, the elevator groans back into action and Sam watches as the guard's head is sliced off, spraying him in blood. From his walkie talkie, Dean asks, "Hey, you OK?" Sputtering and choking in disbelief, Sam holds his phone up and replies, "Call you back!" read less

Sam, walking through the maze of cubicles in his own area, wipes the blood off his face. Dean calls on his cell. "I think I got it," he says, "meet me on 22." "Yeah," agrees Sam, "just take the stairs." "That's a lot of blood," notes Dean when they meet up, seeing what's still left sprayed on Sam's shirt and neck. Sam agrees: "I know." Dean shows Sam a pair of Sandover's gloves in a glass case, which probably contain some DNA--fingernail clippings or a hair or two. "You ready?" asks Sam. "I have... read more Sam, walking through the maze of cubicles in his own area, wipes the blood off his face. Dean calls on his cell. "I think I got it," he says, "meet me on 22." "Yeah," agrees Sam, "just take the stairs." "That's a lot of blood," notes Dean when they meet up, seeing what's still left sprayed on Sam's shirt and neck. Sam agrees: "I know." Dean shows Sam a pair of Sandover's gloves in a glass case, which probably contain some DNA--fingernail clippings or a hair or two. "You ready?" asks Sam. "I have no idea," answers Dean. "Me neither," agrees Sam. They each take a fireplace poker. "Go for it," says Sam. After Dean breaks the glass, Sam sees his own breath and knows they're not alone. He spots Sandover's ghost, who sends first Dean, then Sam flying against the wall. When the ghost approaches him with his electrified fingers, Sam tosses his canister of salt at him. Sandover disappears. Dean rises to his feet. "Nice!" he praises, but Sandover appears right behind him. "DEAN!" calls Sam, and tosses him a fireplace poker, which Dean uses to quickly dispatch the ghost. "Nice catch!" says Sam. "Right?" says Dean, staring at the poker in his hand. Sam stands up and grabs the other fireplace poker. Sandover appears between them and they both swipe him away. That works only a couple of times before the ghost again shoves them both into the walls. Realizing that Sandover is about to put the electric boogie on a temporarily hurt/stunned Dean, Sam grabs the gloves from the case, pulls out a lighter and sets them afire. Dean, who'd been trying to duck away from Sandover's arcing fingers, covering his head, realizes he's alive and very lucky. Sam drops the burning gloves to the floor and watches them go up. He finds Dean sitting in the elevator area. "That was AMAZING!" he exults, grinning. "Right? RIGHT?" agrees Dean, smiling just as big. (DEAN'S OFFICE) - Dean takes out a first aid kit. "I've never had so much fun in my life!" he says. "Me, neither," says Sam. "It was a hell of a workout, too," adds Dean. Sam says they should keep doing this, there must be other ghosts out there; they could help a lot of people. Dabbing a wound on his forehead, Dean says, "We could be like the Ghostfacers." "Really," says Sam, "for real." "What? Quit our jobs and hit the road?" says Dean. "How would we live? You gotta be kidding me. How would we get by--stolen credit cards? Eatin' diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharin' a crap motel room every night?" "That's all just details," says Sam. "Details are everything!" exclaims Dean. "You don't wanna go fightin' ghosts with no health insurance!" "All right, confession," says Sam, "remember those dreams I told you about, with the ghosts? I was fighting them--with you. We were these, like, hunters, and we were like, friends, more like brothers, really. What if that's who we really are? You saw us back there, working together, the ghost was scrambling people's brains, what if it scrambled ours?" "That's insane," says Dean. "Is it?" asks Sam. "Think about it for just one second--what if we think this is our life, but it's not?" "The ghost is dead and we're still standing," Dean reminds him, "I'm sorry, but. . . "All I know is, this isn't who we're supposed to be!" says Sam passionately. "No, I'm Dean Smith, Director of Sales and Marketing," says Dean, "I went to Stanford, my father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, my sister's name is Jo." "When was the last time you talked to them?" demands Sam. "To ANY of 'em?" "OK," says Dean, "you're upset, you're upset and confused. . ." "Yeah," says Sam, "I only moved here because I broke up with my fiancee, Madison, but I called her number and I got a damned animal hospital!" says Sam. (Ironic, since Madison turned out to be a werewolf, very funny, show!) "Are you trying to say my family isn't real?" asks Dean. "That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on!" "All I know is, I've got this feeling in my gut and I know that, deep down, you've got to be feeling it, too--we're supposed to be something else. Not just some corporate douchebag--this isn't you! I know you!" "Know me?" says Dean. "You don't know me, pal. You should go." Chastened, saddened, Sam leaves. Dean, forehead crinkled with discontent, looks out at the night sky. read less

(Copier/Fax/Pencil sharpener) - Sam sits in his cubicle, phones ringing and ringing. There is an unfathomable look in his eyes, but it isn't good. He rises from his chair, reaches under his desk for a fireplace poker and proceeds to smash his phone over and over and over, terrifying his co-workers into backing away from him. When he has their attention, he says, "I quit." He turns to go. (DEAN'S OFFICE) - Our go-getter, working hard, types busily on his computer. His boss enters, closes the doo... read more (Copier/Fax/Pencil sharpener) - Sam sits in his cubicle, phones ringing and ringing. There is an unfathomable look in his eyes, but it isn't good. He rises from his chair, reaches under his desk for a fireplace poker and proceeds to smash his phone over and over and over, terrifying his co-workers into backing away from him. When he has their attention, he says, "I quit." He turns to go. (DEAN'S OFFICE) - Our go-getter, working hard, types busily on his computer. His boss enters, closes the door, and asks how he's feeling. Tired, answers Dean. The boss knows how hard he's been working; he's pleased, and wants to keep Dean happy. He writes down his bonus on a piece of paper and hands it to Dean, who pronounces it generous. No, selfish, says his boss, he wants to keep him around--Dean is Sandover material, a go-getter, carving his own way. He sees big things in Dean's future, maybe even Senior VP Great Lakes Division. Dean will have to work for it--seven days a week, lunches at his desk, but in 8-10 short years, "That could be you." Dean thanks him--and gives his notice! Boss-man is stunned; Dean's kidding, right? "I recently realized I have some other work I have to do," says Dean, "it's very important to me." It's not another company, it's hard to explain. This. . .he points to his fancy suit. "It's not who I'm supposed to be." His boss grins. "Dean, Dean, Dean. Finally!" He touches his two fingers to Dean's forehead and suddenly, the vibrant color goes out of the workplace, and we're left with subdued, washed out hues. Dean wonders why he's wearing a suit. "My God, am I hungry!" "Welcome back," says "boss." "Wait," says Dean, "did I just get touched by. . .are you. . .you're an angel, aren't you?" "I'm Zachariah," replies the angel. "That's all I need is another one of YOU guys," complains Dean. "I'm hardly another one," says Zack, "I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things (his meatsuit)--but after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I thought it necessary to pay a visit, get our ducks in a row." "I am not one of your ducks!" says Dean, furious. "Starting with your attitude," says Zack. "Oh, so this was some sort of lesson?" asks Dean. "Is that what you're telling me? Very creative!" "You should see my decoupage," says Zack. "Gross," says Dean, clearly not knowing what that is, "no, thank you. So, what, I'm just hallucinating all this, is that it?" "Not at all," says Zack, "real place, real haunting, I just plunked you in the middle of it without benefit of your memories." "Just to shake things up?" accuses Dean. "Just to watch us walk around like ass-clowns in monkey suits?" "To prove to you that the path you're on in truly in your blood," says Zack, you're a HUNTER--not because Dad made you, not because God called you back from hell, but because it is what you are and you love it, you'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it; let's be real here, you're good at this! Be successful, you will stop it!" "Stop what?" asks Dean. "The apocalypse? Lucifer? Be SPECIFIC, man!" "You'll do everything you're destined to do," says Zack, "all of it. I know, I know, you're not strong enough, you're scared, you got Daddy issues, you can't do it, right?" "Angel or not, I will stab you in your face," promises Dean. (GET HIM, DEAN!) "All I'm saying is, it's how you look at it," smiles Zack. "Most folks live and die without moving more than the dirt it takes to bury them, you have a chance to change things, save people--maybe even the world--all the while you drive a classic car and fornicate with women. This isn't a curse, it's a gift! So for God's sake, quit whining about it. Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than yours. So, you with me? Wanna go steam yourself another latte? Or are you ready to stand up--and be who you REALLY are?" Dean stares at him. read less

Credits