Slash Fiction Supernatural
Aired on Friday, October 28, 2011, on The CW
Now – Sam and Dean enter a bank, looking very unsure of themselves. “Are you sure about this?” asks Sam. “Trust me,” says Dean. They separate, Dean heading over to an attractive brunette teller. “Good morning, Megan,” he says, reading her name tag, “that's a very pretty dress.” Like most of the world's female population under Dean Winchester's scrutiny, she simpers. “Thank you,” she says, “it's vintage.” “Well it looks new on you,” he says. “Thank you,” she says...
Now – Sam and Dean enter a bank, looking very unsure of themselves. “Are you sure about this?” asks Sam. “Trust me,” says Dean. They separate, Dean heading over to an attractive brunette teller. “Good morning, Megan,” he says, reading her name tag, “that's a very pretty dress.” Like most of the world's female population under Dean Winchester's scrutiny, she simpers. “Thank you,” she says, “it's vintage.” “Well it looks new on you,” he says. “Thank you,” she says, aren't you sweet, sir.” “”Call me Dean,” he urges. She asks how she can help him. Sam, meanwhile, is sliding a bar through the front door of the bank, ensuring no one can enter or leave. Dean explains he doesn't have an account at the bank, but asks if he can get change of that—-and slides a 20 dollar bill across the counter towards her. Charmed by his smile, she says she thinks she can make an exception, “Just for you.” Dean turns to exchange an “all ready” look with Sam. “How do you want it, Dean?” Megan asks him, smiling provocatively. “I'm gonna have to take a rain check,” he says, grinning back, pulling a gun out of his jacket, adding, “and all your money.” She gazes down at the frightening-looking automatic firearm in horror. Dean raises it up and fires at the ceiling over and over. “HANDS IN THE AIR!” screams Sam at the guard, adding, in a lower voice, “your money's insured, so no heroes, okay?”
They load the whimpering, terrified employees and customers into the vault. “You ready?” Sam asks his brother. Dean is. They raise their guns and fire, shooting to death every single soul in the vault-—in full view of the bank's security cameras. They survey their handiwork, pleased, and leave.
(Ed. notes: Now, I was NOT spoiled for this episode, but I was sure that wasn't Sam and Dean violently gunning down all those innocent folks. It had to be clones or duplicates of some kind. I just had to sit back and learn which, why and how. Still, it was brutal and cruel to watch our sweet brothers doing it, and funny to hear Sam assure everyone that their money was ensured, so no one be a hero. It was darkly funny. I was reminded of the OTHER bank episode which included doppelgangers, and found myself missing a certain FBI agent who was on the brothers' trail for a few delicious seasons only to lose his life at the hands of that beeatch Lilith.) read less
TITLEScene 3 How the heck does one kill a Leviathan? (00:02:38 - 00:09:51) view scene
Rufus' cabin, basement – Bobby is trying out a little “fruit of the poison tree” on captive Leviathan Chet, who is chained to a chair. “Isn't that just a legal expression?”Chet asks. “You're going to wish it was,” says Bobby, injecting him in the leg. The guy sloshes something in his mouth, as if he'd taken a sip of wine. “Oaky,” he says, “similar finish to holy water, not as bitter as rock salt.” He grins, pissing off Bobby. Sam and Dean come downstairs. “And how are my ...
Rufus' cabin, basement – Bobby is trying out a little “fruit of the poison tree” on captive Leviathan Chet, who is chained to a chair. “Isn't that just a legal expression?”Chet asks. “You're going to wish it was,” says Bobby, injecting him in the leg. The guy sloshes something in his mouth, as if he'd taken a sip of wine. “Oaky,” he says, “similar finish to holy water, not as bitter as rock salt.” He grins, pissing off Bobby. Sam and Dean come downstairs. “And how are my two favorite meatsicles?” chortles Chet. “That thing still suckin' air?” bitches Dean. “Greatest hits didn't do the trick,” says Bobby, “I'm down to B sides and deep cuts.” “We'd better figure out something quick,” says Dean, “that whammy that witch dude put on him is only going to last for a few days, he gets his spinach back, we're gonna have to drop a car on him just to stop him.” “Actually,” says Chet, “Edgar walked away from that car. He's fine-—well, he's a little pissed at YOU, but. . .oh, you didn't know?” “Why don't you shut your cake trap?” suggests Dean. “Bobby, you've been using all this stuff and he still won't talk?” asks Sam quietly. Bobby shakes his head. Dean moves over a stool and sits very close to Chet. “Huddle over, Coach?” asks Chet. “How did you find us?” demands Dean. “Easy—-I used (?) recognition software and a basic algorithm to track your last knock aliases.” “Great, just what we need, a MENSA monster,” bitches Bobby. Sam asks, “Where did you get our aliases?” “From your trench-coated friend, obviously,” answers Chet, “when we were all nestled in at Camp Cas—kinda got the full download—-this is how we do.” "Why are you talking to us?" asks Bobby--"you're not dumb-—why are you spilling state secrets?" Because I'm not scared of you, answers Chet—-I'm not scared of you, of any of you-—you can't kill us or stop us, you stupid little chew toys (this makes Sam swallow in both fear and anger)-—aside from which, I'm the least of your concerns, right?—-oh, you haven't watched the news today, have you?
They turn on the TV and watch themselves (Sam and Dean Winchester, presumed dead), killing a whole slew of people, leaving no survivors. They are now the subject of a manhunt throughout the state of California. “Busy morning, you two?” asks Bobby, turning off the TV. “It's like they Xeroxed us,” says Dean. “But I don't understand how,” says Sam. Bobby suggests one of the Leviathan touched the two of them at the hospital. “It was the hair! Not so hard to lift some DNA out of a motel shower drain, guys!” yells Chet. “You can copy people like that?” asks Dean, disbelieving--”awesome!--what is their plan exactly?” “Squeeze us,” says Sam, “turn us into the most wanted men in America.” “That settles it,” says Dean, “we find these ass monkeys and kill them ourselves.” Bobby reminds them that every form of law enforcement in the country has seen their ugly mugs (Ed. note: hey!) this morning. Exactly, says Dean, so what's the point of trying to hide? Better than sticking your fool neck out, says Bobby, these things are smarter than you. Don't sugar coat it, says Sam. You don't have a clue how to kill them or slow them down and your plan is what? asks Bobby-—go right at them?--genius. They're wearing our faces, Dean reminds him, this is personal. Sam agrees. “If you're gonna be stupid, you may as well be smart about it,” says Bobby, and hands them information about a man named Frank Deveraux—a “jackass and lunatic” they must see. “He owes me one from back in Port Heuron.” He hands Dean a slip of paper. “In the meantime, I'll keep workin' on Chatty Cathy here-—see if I can figure out what makes him die.” (LOL!)
They Winchesters drive to a gas station. Dean gets out to pump gas. “The usual?” asks Sam. “Rhymes with sing songs,” says Dean. (Ding Dongs?) Inside, Sam asks for protein bars. The clerk looks at him for a long moment and says they're in the back, give him a second. Sam glances under the counter and sees the guy has been watching the news broadcast featuring him and Dean and that the clerk is on the phone in the back. Sam rushes outside. “I'm sure the cashier just made me—-drive!” he says hurriedly. Dean hangs up the gas nozzle, leaps into the car and puts the pedal to the metal. He hangs a right and tears off.
Special agents Morris and Valenti (I don't differentiate between these two till the end of the ep, sorry.) show up to investigate the killings at the Manitoc Savings Bank, where the Winchester boys have apparently killed a second group of innocents. The Sheriff asks if this, combined with the gas station, is a “psycho road trip.” “A couple of days ago, they were dead, says one of the agents, “we know what you know.”. “Actual serial killer?” one agent asks the other. “Crime spree means paper work,” the other says, “lots of it—-which you'll be doing-—we gotta go, Winchesters spotted at Gas and Sip.” “That's about a thousand miles from here.” “Bust a flow?” “That or Batmobile.”
Sam and Dean pull up in front of the address Bobby gave them, unsure if it's right. It's dark and creepy as hell. (It sure would be nice to pull up in front of a nice house once in a while, right? What ep is that from? "Roadkill.") “Frank, you in there?” asks Sam, knocking. They open the unlocked door. “Frank?” calls Sam again--“anybody here?--anybody here?--anybody home?” A light is flicked on. A man sitting in a chair points a gun at them. “Well, well, spider caught some flies,” he says, grinning with pleasure. Sam and Dean exchange looks of fear.
((Ed. note: My guess is, Bobby did NOT call ahead to this guy. Why? It soon becomes evident. It always makes me laugh how nearly everyone Bobby or John sends Sam and Dean to see greets them with a weapon and seem more than a trifle nuts. I'm just sayin'. Also, Morris and Valente seemed immediately interchangeable to me. I have no idea why.) read less
“Well I'll be darned—Psycho Butch and Sundance,” exults Frank, “you're on CNN right now!” “That's not us!” protests Sam. “No, can't be, wish you had a teleporter,” jokes Frank-—”DO you have a teleporter?” (Ed. note: LMAO! If they HAD, what would crazy old Frank have done, hijacked it?) “No, sir, we don't,” says Sam. Both brothers have their hands raised in deference to the gun and Frank's apparent insanity. “My condolences on the doppelgangers,” says Frank, “who...
“Well I'll be darned—Psycho Butch and Sundance,” exults Frank, “you're on CNN right now!” “That's not us!” protests Sam. “No, can't be, wish you had a teleporter,” jokes Frank-—”DO you have a teleporter?” (Ed. note: LMAO! If they HAD, what would crazy old Frank have done, hijacked it?) “No, sir, we don't,” says Sam. Both brothers have their hands raised in deference to the gun and Frank's apparent insanity. “My condolences on the doppelgangers,” says Frank, “who sent ya—NSA?--the Feed?--March of Dimes?” “Bobby Singer sent us,” says Dean, lips trembling. Frank leaps to his feet, cocking his gun. “Or not,” says Dean quickly, “who?” “He said you could help us,” says Sam, “he said you owe him from Port Huron.” Frank finally drops the gun. “Guy saves your life ONE time and what—you owe him the rest of yours?” “That's usually how it works, yeah,” agrees Dean quickly. Frank raises the gun and points it at him again, then, pissed off at himself, drops it again. We see credit cards being shredded. Sam is watching himself and Dean shooting people on TV. Frank's blathering on about how he knows Bobby's into that “magic hooey” but the government's been cloning people for years, “I guess it was just your turn in the barrel.” “Actually,” begins Sam, but Dean stops him: “He's rollin'.” “Yours is being busy beavers,” says Frank, “you're number 2 on the Most Wanted List, quickest climb up the charts since Donna Summer. “So what do you think we should do?” asks Sam. “Cuba's nice this time of year,” suggests Frank. “We're not hiding,” insists Dean. “Is he always this stupid?” Frank asks Sam. “We gotta stick around and kick a coupla asses,” says Dean, “so we just need you to get us further off the grid, but keep us on the board.” Frank turns on the radio, some sappy elevator music. He says they have to get rid of all their old rock aliases, they're going to be Tom and John Smith from now on; no more plastic, cash only; change their phones on a very frequent, non-scheduled schedule basis; stay out of view of the two hundred million cameras the government's got scattered around.” “Two hundred million?” repeats Dean. “Big Brother has many eyeballs,” warns Frank—-”you see a place that even LOOKS like it can afford security, you just ease on down the road.” To Sam's horror, he smashes his laptop—-but hands him another one. “Thank you,” says Sam uncertainly. “You owe me five grand, cash,” orders Frank. “WHAT?” asks Sam. “WHAT?” asks Dean. “Unless you want to go comparison shopping at the mall, Sweet Cheeks—-and say hi to the cops for me,” snarks Frank. “Now let's steal you up some new ID,” he says, pushing them against some white sheets hanging against the wall and taking pictures, “Mr. and Mr. Smith.”
(Ed. note: This scene broke my heart. New aliases, and so bland for our handsome boys! No more rock aliases like we've come to know and love, their computers have been replaced, Tom and John SMITH?, everything that made them our beloved Winchester brothers hiding away was being buried. But the worst was yet to come!)
Bobby shoots bullets into Chet, but the only response he gets is “Whooo! Do it again! Come on, do it again! You're gonna touch me in the morning, then just walk away.” You still talkin'?” asks Bobby, in a very foul mood. “Aren't you sick of this yet?” asks Chet. “You bleed black snot, sure, you bleed, you can die,” insists Bobby. “Sure, sport, whatever you say,” says Chet, “try the acid again, why doncha?--poor sap, you're stumped.” “Give it a rest, mouthy,” advises Bobby. “How long do you think these chains are gonna hold when the spell wears off?” asks Chet-—"tick, tock, old man. I'm gonna really enjoy eating you—-right down to that hat (Ed. note: blasphemy!)—-and then I'm going to eat everyone you ever said hello to.” Deciding he's had enough, Bobby grabs a sword and decapitates Chet. “Hot damn, that's something,” says Bobby, when it appears to at least silence the too-chatty, too-bitchy Leviathan.
Frank puts all the brothers' new ID's into a cigar box. “I marked all the towns your stunt doubles hit so you can see the pattern,” says Frank. “What is the pattern?” asks Sam. Frank has no clue, he can't see it. It seems random to Sam. “A little tip from a pro—there is no such thing as a random series of murder-robberies by your evil twins. Have yourself some uppers and look at that some more. Good luck.” “Thanks,” says Sam. “For what?” asks Frank--”sending you to your deaths?--your doubles WANT to be on Candid Camera—-put YOU in the line of fire; now I'd lay low because I love life in its infinite mysteries, but if you want to be dumb, that's fine-—at least have the common sense to ditch your car.” (My heart just stopped! Not Dean's baby!) “Scuse me—-what?” demands Dean. “Your Double Mints—they're using a car just like the one outside,” says Frank. This stuns and pisses off the brothers. (Ed. note: Me, too. Aw shit!)
The newspaper headline in the USA TIMES WEEKLY reads “Killer Duo Still at Large.” Someone knocks at Bobby's door as he's unpacking groceries. He grabs a gun before opening up. Looking out the peephole, he sees his visitor is Sheriff Jody Mills. He puts down the gun and runs a quick hand through his beard to make himself look a bit more presentable before opening up. She's smiling very prettily at him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks. “You're all charm, Bobby,” she retorts. (I was thinking something a lot nastier, like what a shithead he is.) “So my therapist keeps tellin' me,” he says, “How'd you find me?” “I'm a cop, remember?” she asks. (You go, girl, get your man!) She holds up a six pack. “Gonna invite me in?” “You may not want me to,” he warns, “I got one of the bigmouths downstairs.” (Ed. note: So that's what they're calling them, huh?) “So I won't go downstairs,” she says simply. She's come to thank him, “considering they were fresh out of thanks for saving me from liver-eating surgeon cards at the store.” “Oh, that,” he says, “just doin' my job--which nobody pays me for.” “Right,” she nods, “how you doin', Bobby?””I'm fine—every day's a gift,” he says. “Your HOUSE just burned down,” she reminds him. “As you can see,” he says, “I got a roof over me.” “Bobby! Let someone be nice to you for five minutes,” she chastises. (Oh, God, I loved this scene and the soft look in her eyes and obvious feelings for him on her face.) “Okay,” he shrugs, “but not too nice, I can't be goin' soft.” “Of course not,” she agrees, “you know, I can cook—ish.” She slips off her jacket. “Why don't you let me make you something, maybe put this new place of yours in some kind of order--come on, I owe you that much.” “Okay,” he agrees, “thanks, Sheriff.” “Jody,” she corrects. Ed. note: Squee!)
Bobby returns to the basement, where he finds his prisoner's head has reattached itself to his body. There's a lot of black goo on his basement floor. “Did you think it would be that easy?” asks Chet. “No, but it's a start,” says Bobby, beheading him again.
Sam and Dean are driving along in a new car. (I can't discern the make or model, nor did I try too hard. I didn't want to be disloyal to Baby..) A unicorn hangs from the rear-view mirror. It makes the sound of a crying baby when Dean squeezes it, and he angrily cuts it off and tosses it into the backseat. “You OK?” asks Sam. “It's bad enough they're ganking people in our mugs,” grumbles Dean, “but now this? Driving around in this caboodle while Baby's on lock-down!” “It's temporary,” Sam reminds him.” “Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” insists Dean. “You know what that's a line from,” says Sam. “Swayze movie,” says Dean, “Swayze always gets a pass.” “Right,” says Sam, “you want some tunes or something?” Sam turns on the radio which is playing appropriately, “I'm All Outta Love” by Air Supply.” Dean urges him to just leave it, and, moments later, Sam's upset to see his rock-loving brother lip-synching--and crying--to the sappy song! Realizing he's been caught, Dean turns his eyes away. Oh, Baby, your Dean misses you so much! But Dean can't help himself; he sings along again, silently, so sad. Sam finally turns off the song.
(Ed. note: This was very hard to watch. If anything is a touchstone on SUPERNATURAL, for both Sam and Dean--and US, the audience--it's that 1967 Impala. That they would have to give it up for ANY length of time is horrific. I was crying, too, I confess!)
Looking at a map, Sam gets a vivid memory flashback to Jericho and the Woman in White, then Black Water Ridge and the Wendigo, Manitoc and the kid drowning in the lake—-all towns they worked jobs in, in order, from the day Sam left Stanford. The pattern the Leviathans appear to be following would mean their next target would be in St. Louis. “Perfect, Connor's Diner,” crows Dean, “best burgers in St. Louis, I deserve something good in my life right now!”
Sam and Dean's clones (now known as SC and DC) are making fun of their human counterparts as they sit at Conor's Diner.
DC: You know, he has one of these every day. In his heart, he thinks they're almost as good as sex. He tosses it down on the plate. THIS is disgusting.
SC: (Pushing away his salad.) Dead plants with creamy goo. It's like eating self- righteousness-—you tell me which is worse.
DC: Honestly, I can't stand the guy. Talk about a hero complex. He doesn't have relationships, he has applications for sainthood. Oh, and he thinks he's funny—thinks he's a damn comedian.
SC: Who has two thumbs and a full blown bats in the belfry? (Points to himself.) I'm serious. Nothing but Satanvision on the inside. How he's walking around in a jacket with attachable arms. . .beyond me. You know, I had a brother with this many issues once.
SC: You know what I did? I ate him.
DC: Of course you did.
SC: How are these guys even a threat?
DC: Boss says they gotta go, they gotta go.
SC: Right. Idea. Wanna trade? I'll take Chuckles over Schizo.
DC: Looking himself over. Nah, I like this one's hair better. You can stay in the big one.
SC: All right. In that case, let's turn up the heat. The sooner I get out of this into something more stable, the better.
They take out their guns. Hold it, says SD, turning to a young man seated at a table nearby. “Hey, kid, why don't you fire up the camera on that thing?” The kid scoffs at him. “Point it over here,” orders Dean, pointing the gun at him. The frightened kid lifts up his camera. “Shall we?” says DC. “All right, everybody be cool, this is a robbery!” shouts SC, aiming his gun at the ceiling. “Anybody move and I will execute every last one of you!” yells DC, standing on the counter.
(Ed note: Are the brothers driving a GREMLIN?) Bobby reports that chopping off the heads slows down the Leviathans pretty good, until they juice back up, anyhow. That's something, I guess, says Sam, assuming we can even get close to them. I don't want you walking right up to them either, says Bobby, I'm still looking for something you can shoot at them. Behind him, Jody prepares a meal. Have a good time, urges Dean, thanking him. “You take mayo, right, Bobby?” asks Jody. Overhearing, Dean asks, “You got a chick over there?” “What? No,” answers Bobby, lying poorly. Exchanging a look with Sam, Dean asks, “Are you even working, Richard Gere?” “Shut up, ya idjit,” says Bobby as the brothers grin at each other--”where you off to next?” Sam tells him St. Louis, but Bobby informs him that they're too late-—pumpkin and honey-bunny'd a diner there. “Connor's Diner?” demands Dean. “Yeah, how'd you know?” asks Bobby. “Lucky guess,” says Dean, pissed off. “All right, so much for that,” says Sam, “I guess we're off to Ankeny Iowa. Call us if you get anything else.”
(Ed. note: If I didn't know the lift expectancy of women characters on this show tends to be very short, I'd root for Jody and Bobby to get together. They're so good as a couple, and she knows about all the evil stuff. They'd make a great team killing off the bad supernatural creatures and cuddling in bed together at night.)
Agents Morris and Valente enter the blood-spattered crime scene at Connor's Diner. The Sheriff sits there, utterly in shock. He was first on-scene, unfortunately. He shows them the footage from the young man's camera, including SC coming in up close, yelling at him, “Hey hey hey, keep that up! I didn't say you could put that down! I want the whole world to know what Sam and Dean Winchester are capable of! “ He guns down some elderly folks at the next booth. “That all of 'em?” asks DC. “All but one,” replies SC and grins as he guns down the camera-guy, who's begging for his life. The two clones go in for close-ups. DC salutes and says, “Well, good night St. Louis. You've been a wonderful crowd. Grab your socks and hoes, Iowa, 'cause we're headed to you next.” Sam winks evilly. The two race off to alert federal state and local law enforcement.
Back in the basement, in his latest attempt to get Chet to talk, Bobby brings out a big car battery. “Does this skin make me look fat?” asks Chet. To his horror, Bobby looks up and sees that the Leviathan has taken on HIS face and body. (We'll keep calling him Chet) “Balls,” ejaculates Bobby. “It's pretty dark in here,” says BC, “high school dropout, a drunk like your daddy before you, oh, you and dad, now that's a can of scorpions. Your favorite singer is Joni frickin' Mitchell? Aw, Bobby. You were 10 pounds of sad in a five pound bag.” Bobby's face twists with hatred.
Ankeny Hotel - Sam and Dean spot their clones driving by in AN Impala. "Oh, no, this is all sorts of wrong," says Sam. The clones get out of the car. "Nice wheels," says Dean, "when this is all over, I'm stealin' those rims." He calls Bobby to let him know they have eyes on their clones. "Tell the kids I said hi," Chet smirks. "It's like lookin' in a fun- house mirror," says Dean. "I know the feeling," Bobby assures him. "Tell me you got something, or I'm gonna have to get in close," says Dean. ...
Ankeny Hotel - Sam and Dean spot their clones driving by in AN Impala. "Oh, no, this is all sorts of wrong," says Sam. The clones get out of the car. "Nice wheels," says Dean, "when this is all over, I'm stealin' those rims." He calls Bobby to let him know they have eyes on their clones. "Tell the kids I said hi," Chet smirks. "It's like lookin' in a fun- house mirror," says Dean. "I know the feeling," Bobby assures him. "Tell me you got something, or I'm gonna have to get in close," says Dean. "Just hang back for now," advises Bobby. "It's too late," says Dean, we gotta. . ." A police car, siren on, blares at them and orders Sam and Dean to put their hands in the air. Dean points to the clones and tells the cops, "Big misunderstanding, the guys you want are right there, turn around, look!" "Get off the phone, put your hands in the air!" orders the cop. Overhearing this, Bobby is frantic. "Dean? Dean!" he calls. Dean tosses his phone into the police car. DC winks at the Winchesters as he drives away.
"The thing about you," begins Chet. Bobby orders him to save it--"I already know about me, handsome." "You got the gruff thing down," continues Chet, "seen more death than an electric chair. Ready to die with your boots on. You know, deep down inside, you're no cynic--you still hope--you got a thing for that lady upstairs. Tiny part of you thinks maybe after all this is done, you and Miss Sheriff might make your own little cabin in the woods." He laughs at Bobby, cruel and mean, adding, "that's hilarious. You're not gettin' any older than tomorrow, Bobby, why do you bother?" "You a Browning fan?" asks Bobby, picking up the sword. "Come again?" asks Chet. "Robert Browning," says Bobby, "poet--you got that name rattling around up there along with the rest of my thoughts and feelings?" "It's kinda hard to sift through all the drunken blackouts," admits Chet. "But a man's reach should exceed his grasp," says Bobby. "I like that," says Chet, "that's actually lovely--Browning--after I eat you, I'm definitely going to hit the library."
(Ed. note: I must confess, I find Chet hilarious, both as Bobby and himself. He's smart, funny and very entertaining. I enjoyed him, and whether or not he and his body are going to join forces again, I don't know, but if there's any way we can get him on our side, that would be terrific. He's a fun character, IMHO, like Crowley.)
Something begins dripping from the ceiling onto Chet's arm. Acting like acid, it burns a hole in his flesh. "Get it off! Get it off!!" he shouts over and over. "GET IT OFF MEEEEEEE!"
Bobby races upstairs. Jody was cleaning the floor and apparently spilled something. "Sorry, a little snafu here," she says. Bobby drags her into his arms and plants a big, wet kiss on her mouth. "Okay, I wasn't expecting THAT reaction," she says. "What the hell was in that bucket?" he asks. (Ed note: Bobby, what does she have to do to get you to toss her on the bed for a good, solid humping?)
Sam and Dean, protesting, are dragged into the police station. You have the wrong guys, the brothers are protesting. Dean wants his phone call. They send Dean to a cell, Sam to the interview room. Once they're separate and secure, the Sheriff orders his deputies to call it a night. "You're making a mistake!" shouts Sam.
The Sam and Dean clones have been waiting in their car outside the police station for the hapless departing deputies. They exit the car and close in on the hapless deputies.
Back inside the station, another deputy sees the other two return. "What, did you forget something or what?" he asks. One of the other deputies comes up behind him and twists and breaks his neck with a horrible cracking sound. He then turns into a Leviathan and swoops down for his food. Yummy!
The Sheriff comes to Dean's cell. "I want my phone call," demands Dean, "it's my right!" "You killed how many people in the past few days and you want me to hop-to on your rights?" says the Sheriff peevishly. "I didn't. . .please, just give me ONE phone call," begs Dean. Something about the sincerity in his tone and on his face convinces the Sheriff; Moments later, the lawman is holding a cell phone up to the bars, listening to every word Dean exchanges with Bobby, who is all set to come there right away. "No time," says Dean, "we saw them, they saw us, so WE are coming to get US--you read me?--have you got anything?" "There's a chemical," explains Bobby, "sodium borate." Dean is all set to get Mr. Wizard on speed dial, but Bobby assures him it's not as weird as it sounds--it's just borax, found in industrial cleaners and soaps and laundry powder--look for anything with the word borax in it. "You want me to desperate housewife these mothers?" demands Dean."Trust me, it burns 'em bad enough to slow 'em down," promises Bobby, "so get the strongest you can find, hear me?" "Borax, burns," says Dean, "got it." "Then, douse 'em, and when you get close, chop the heads off," instructs Bobby, taking a wrapped-up head in his hands and placing it in a box, "and keep the head separate." "Got it," says Dean, "Bobby, you're a genius, thanks, I. . ." The Sheriff slams his phone shut. "What did you do that for?" asks Dean angrily. "Borax? Decapitation?" says the Sheriff--"what kind of sickos are you and your friends?" He starts to walk away. "You listen to me," says Dean gruffly, "if you don't go get every ounce, every drop of whatever that stuff is in this place right now, we are ALL gonna die!" "Whoa, you're crazier than I thought," says the Sheriff, walking away. "HEY!" calls Dean. The Sheriff turns a corner and spots one of his deputies noshing on another. He lifts his head, his face covered in blood. Another enters, berating him for taking time for lunch when there's no time. "I was hungry whines the blood-covered deputy. "Later," says the other, "let's go." The Sheriff hides, watching this horror-show. The bloody-mouthed one wipes his mouth on his sleeve and morphs into Sam; the other into Dean. They saunter out of the police station.
The sheriff returns to Dean's cell, mumbling incoherently that he has no idea what he just saw. “Let me out of here,” Dean commands, and the sheriff frees him. “You listen to me and we'll live,” says Dean, “keep your head down, go to the supply closet, get anything that says borax on it, bring it here—now, go!” The man with the badge complies.
Sam struggles to get out of his handcuffs when DC enters the conference room. Sam holds out the cuffs, hoping his brother will help him out of them. “I'm not your brother,” DC says, “but I am Dean-adjacent.” Sam glares at him.
Dean takes the gun away from the recently eaten man lying across the desk. “Sorry,” he says. He spies Sam, but realizes quickly it's not Sam and shoots him. SC bats the gun out of his hands and tosses Dean into the glass trophy case across the room.
“I just want you to know how much I've grown to hate you and your brother since we've been wearing you,” says DC to Sam. “I just don't get it—you could be anything—you're strong, uninhibited, smarter, believe it or not, but you're so caught up in being good and taking care of each other.” “What do you care?” asks Sam. “BECAUSE IT PISSES ME OFF!” shouts DC--”you're wasting a perfectly good opportunity to subjugate the weak.”
Dean clambers to his feet and smashes open the glass case containing a hatchet on the wall. “Cute—really think you'll get close enough to use it?” asks SC. “Not until you're burning,” says Dean. SC looks puzzled—until the sheriff tosses a bucket of something on him that makes him screech—and black smoke issue from his body. Dean takes the opportunity to cut his head off. Black blood flows from the head and the body.
“Here's the deal,” says DC, “Dean thinks you're nut-balls. He thinks you're off your game.” “You gonna kill me or is this some kind of play with your food bowl?” asks Sam, irritated. “All right,” grins DC, “I guess that's why Dean never told you he killed Amy.” Sam stares at him in angry disbelief. “There it is,” says DC gleefully, “the look on your face, that is PRICELESS! THAT'S what I've been waitin' for! Now I can eat you. 'Cuz you see, I like my meat a little bitter.” (Ed. note: This line is very funny, but also very cruel.) Dean enters and tosses the borax liquid onto DC, who screams in pain. Immediately after, he cuts off his head. Sam looks at the headless body behind him. “Wow, that felt good,” says Dean. The Sheriff uncuffs Sam. “Go, the FBI is on the way,” he says. “Listen to me,” says Dean, “about that. . .” “Whatever I can do,” says the sheriff, “especially if it involves lying about what I just saw.” “Good,” says Dean, “I was hoping you could kind of help us. . .be dead. You know—quote unquote.” “Yeah, I should be able to swing that,” agrees the Sheriff. “All right,” says Dean, “come on, let's grab a mop.” He looks for Sam. “Sammy, you okay?” “Yeah I'm fine,” says Sam. “Let's go,” urges Dean.
"That's when I got the drop on them and shot them both," describes the Sheriff to the FBI men and a lady coroner . "You did good," praises one of the FBI guys. "Here's the files," says the coroner, "multiple gunshot wounds, I have fingerprints of course for your records." "Mind if we take a look at the bodies?" asks FBI guy. "Their bodies were sent to a funeral home for cremation," explains the Sheriff, "as per their living wills and religious requirements." "Wow, that must be some kind of record; they died LAST NIGHT," complains the FBI. "You can contact the funeral home, they might still have the bodies," says the Sheriff, "once we do the autopsies, we're obliged to release the bodies." "You had the bodies destroyed?" asks FBI guy incredulously--"what kind of backwater operation is this?" "Easy," says the other FBI guy, "forget about it--no bodies, no paperwork, right? Someone once told me that was a good thing?The good news still stands--this case is closed--Sam and Dean Winchester are dead. The coroner accepts the file and the two FBI guys leave.
On TV in Bobby's dingy cabin, a reporter says, "The Winchester crime spree has come to a violent end in Iowa, where they were gunned down. . ." Bobby shuts it off. "Jody, slipping on her jacket, says, "That should take the heat off--for now." "Thanks, Jody, I couldn't have done it without you," says Bobby. "Anytime you need me to spill something else, just give me a call," she smiles. "Actually," he says, stepping forward,making her smile grow larger, "there is one more thing." He steps around her (damn him) and hands her a box. "Don't open it, even if it starts talkin'--ESPECIALLY if it starts talkin'," says Bobby, "when you cross over Underhill Bridge, just toss it in the drink. If you excuse me, I got a body to bury in cement." Jody's smile has faded considerably, but Bobby kisses her on the cheek, very close to her mouth. She looks at him archly, takes her bizarre little gift, and heads for the door.
Police station - "Dad, seriously, lying to the FBI, incinerating bodies, and this stuff? What the hell is it, 'cause it sure isn't blood?" "You're right about that, sweetie," says FBI Agent Valente, standing behind them, "it's much more than blood." "I can explain," says the Sheriff. "Don't bother," says FBI guy, who morphs into a Leviathan and comes after the Sheriff and will, I'm sure, come after his daughter, too. Blood hits the wall in copious quantities.
Valente reports to Roman, his boss, that the Winchester clones' heads are missing. "But the actual Winchesters are dead, yes?" Roman. "No, sir, they're in the wind," reports Valente, wiping off the remnants of his Sheriff and daughter stew. "So all that brain power, all those resources, and those two field mice are still on my to-do list?" asks Roman, annoyed. "I'm sorry, sir," says Valente, "we can grab some more DNA, double them again." "I like where your head's at, but sometimes, less is more," says Roman, heading for a huge black stretch limo, "those boys coming back from the dead again start to strain credulity before the American media, am I right?" "Yessir," agrees Valente. "I like a subtler approach," says Roman, "back to the vision board on this one." "Of course," lackies Valente. "Secure the bodies and get back to the FBI and we'll give this Winchester situation a good think," says Roman. "Definitely. Thanks, sir," toadies Valente. "And next time, call me with a win," says his boss, "for your sake--please don't make me bib you." "Yessir," says Valente. They hang up. "Craving a latte," the boss tells his driver, giving him some cash, "mind running across the street before we hit the trail, two pumps vanilla and grab yourself whatever you want--my treat." He climbs into the limo. "Mr. Roman, I thought it was time we met in person," says Crowley, appearing in the limo on a seat close by, "I'm Crowley, I run hell." "Yes, yes," says Roman, "I agree, 100 percent, high time we met." Crowley shows him a basket he has in his lap, muffins, 100% organic baby (?), gluten free. "So considerate," says Roman. I'll cut to the chase," says Crowley. "Please--Dick," says the other man. "Dick," repeats Crowley, "you and I control rather large interests I feel strongly could meld to the benefit of all." "You think?" asks Dick. "I KNOW," says Crowley. "Straight talk--we should be friends, you and I says the King of Hell. "Why in the world would we be?" asks Roman. "I brought you here. . .Dick," Crowley reminds him, "I found a way to open the door to Purgatory." "To steal every last soul, you mean," says Roman, "you and that angel friend of yours--don't roofie me and call it romance." "I think you've got me wrong," says Crowley, nonplussed. "That's your journalism," says Roman, "I'd sooner swim through hot garbage than shake hands with a bottom-feeding mutation like you. You demons are ugly, lazy, gold-digging whores. You're less than humans, and they're not much until you dip 'em in garlic sauce. I'd never work with you, Crowley. In fact, if I wasn't busy with better things, I might actively wipe your kind from the face of the universe--and you deserve it--am I clear?" "Keep the muffins," says Crowley, and disappears
In the middle of nowhere, but nearby water, Dean opens the car's hood in preparation for disposing of their clones' heads. "You sure you want to dump these things?" he jokingly asks Sam--"I'm thinkin' they might actually come in handy down the road--what do you think?" Sam, who has been leaning pensively over the top of the car, doesn't respond. "Hey," says Dean, "what is it? Talk." "Nothing," says Sam gloomily. "That's convincing," says Dean. "Did our monster us give you the jeebs, huh? 'cause I gotta be honest, I ain't lookin' in a mirror for a while myself." "Okay," says Sam, facing him, "you really want to know what's wrong?" "Yeah--you know my motto, here to help," says Dean. "Here to help," repeats Sam, "kinda like you helped Amy?" Dean's face falls; his brother knows. "Listen, Sam," he begins. Sam shakes his head. "Don't lie to me again," he says angrily, breathing heavily--"you know, don't even TALK to me!" Dean nods. "Yeah I get it," adds Sam, and reaches into the car to grab his duffel. "You know what, Dean? I can't." He starts walking away. "You can't what?" asks Dean. "I can't talk to you right now!" insists Sam, then turns around, arms outstretched, duffel in one hand, laptop in the other, and adds, "I can't even be AROUND you right now!" "Okay, so," says Dean. "So I think you should just go on without me," says Sam. Dean stands there, nodding, silent. "Go," orders Sam. "All right," agrees Dean, certainly heartbroken, "sorry, Sam."
Sam slings his duffel over his shoulder, gives Dean a look of disappointment and anger, and walks away from him.
(Ed. note: Very hard to watch. Once again, I wonder if Sam is more angry because Dean killed Amy or because he lied. Or both.
I had read that it was like watching a husband and wife argue, and they had to change some of the dialog. I can understand Sam's fury, but I know he'll calm down and understand why Dean did it.
We all know how badly these two do when apart. I'm anxious to see next week's ep. Keeping with my no spoiler policy, I didn't watch coming attractions.