02x03 - Bloodlust

2.03 Bloodlust

Air Date: 12 Oct 2006



Red Lodge, Montana


A young woman is running through a dark forest. Creepy music. She trips and falls. She stops behind a tree and her pursuer runs past. Relaxing, thinking she's safe, she steps out. A large hook appears, slices her head off.



Soundtrack: AC/DC "Back In Black"

The Metallicar zooms up a 2-lane, driven by Dean. He is in a good mood, grooving along to his music. Several gratuitous shots of the shiny new car.

Dean: Whoo! Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?

Sam: You know, if you two want to get a room, just let me know, Dean.

Dean: Oh, don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't understand us.

Sam: You're in a good mood.

Dean: Why shouldn't I be?

Sam: No reason.

Dean: Got my car, got a case, things are looking up.

Sam: Wow. You hear a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mister Sunshine.

Dean: How far to Red Lodge?

Sam: Uh, about another three hundred miles.

Dean: Good.

(he floors it)

INT. Sheriff's OFFICE - DAY

In Red Lodge, a Sheriff with an impressive mustache is talking to Sam and Dean, who are posing as reporters.

Sheriff: The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all I can share with the press at this time.

Sam: Sure, sure, we understand that, but just for the record, you found the first, uh, head last week, correct?

Sheriff: Mm-hmm.

Sam: Okay, and the other, a uh, Christina Flanigan,

Sheriff: That was two days ago. Is there -

(A young woman knocks on the door, points at her watch.)

Oh. Sorry boys, time's up, we're done here.

Sam: One last question -

Dean: Yeah, what about the cattle?

Sheriff: Excuse me?

Dean: You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained... over a dozen cases.

Sheriff: What about them?

Sam: So you don't think there's a connection?

Sheriff: Connection... with...

Sam: First cattle mutilations, now two murders? Kinda sounds like ritual stuff.

Dean: You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff?

Sheriff: (laughs)

You - you're not kidding.

Dean: No.

Sheriff: Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?

Sam: How?

Sheriff: Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation. Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within forty eight hours the bloat will split it open so clean it's just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down into the ground and get soaked up because that's what gravity does. But, hey, it could be Satan. What newspaper did you say you work for?

Dean: World Weekly News...

Sam: Weekly World News.

Dean: World -

Sam: Weekly World -

Dean: Weekly... I'm new.


Get out of my office.


Dean and Sam enter the morgue, still wearing their shirts and ties from the previous scene but now also in white lab coats. The intern on duty has a name tag that reads "J. Manners." Dean looks at it, calculating.

Dean: John.

Jeff: Jeff.

Dean: Jeff. I know that. Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away.

Jeff: But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation.

Dean: Well, he's back. And he's pissed, and he's screaming for you, man, so if I were you I would... okay.

(intern runs away)

Hey, those satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?

Sam: Yeah, reversed pentacle on the forehead.

Dean: Yeah. So much f-d up crap happens in Florida.

Dean hands Sam a pair of latex gloves and puts on a pair of his own; Sam opens a compartment and wheels out a corpse; there's a box between its legs.

Dean: All right, open it.

Sam: You open it.

Dean: Wuss.

Dean carries the box over to another table and flips off the lid, grimacing. Sam approaches, cringing.

Dean: Well, no pentagram.

Sam: Wow. Poor girl.

Dean: Maybe we should, uh, you know, look in her mouth, see if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat. You know, kinda like Moth in Silence of the Lambs.

Sam: Yeah, here, go ahead.

Dean: No, you go ahead.

Sam: What?

Dean: "Put the lotion in the basket."

Sam: Right, yeah, I'm the wuss, huh? Whatever.

(Sam steels himself and starts poking his fingers into the mouth.)

Dean, get me a bucket?

Dean: You find something?

Sam: No, I'm going to puke.

Dean: Wait, lift the lip up again?

Sam: What? You want me to throw up, is that it?

Dean: No, no, no, I think I saw something.

(He pulls back the lip)

What is that, a hole?

Dean presses on the gum and a narrow, sharp tooth descends.

Sam: It's a tooth.

Dean: Sam, that's a fang. Retractable set of vampire fangs, you've got to be kidding me.

Sam: Well, this changes things.

Dean: Ya think?


Dean and Sam pull up near a local bar, go around to park. They go into: INT. BAR - NIGHT

Dean and Sam approach the bar; a man (Gordon) sitting at a table to one side is watching them.

Dean: How's it going?

Bartender: Living the dream. What can I get for you?

Dean: Two beers, please.

Sam: So, we're looking for some people.

Bartender: Sure. Hard to be lonely.

Sam: Yeah. But um, that's not what I meant.

(He pulls out a $50 bill, fingering it, and drops it on the bar; bartender takes it)

Right. So these, these people, they would have moved here about six months ago, probably pretty rowdy, like to drink...

Dean: Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day, party all night.

Bartender: Barker farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners. They've been in here a lot - drinkers. Noisy. I've had to 86 them once or twice.

Dean: Thanks.

They leave their half-finished beers on the table and leave. The man who was watching them is gone, a smoldering cigarette left behind. As Dean and Sam leave, the man watches, then stalks them. They go down an alley, he follows. He loses sight of them, turns. Dean and Sam are suddenly there, pinning him to the wall, Dean with a knife at his throat.

Dean: Smile.

Gordon: What?

Dean: Show us those pearly whites.

Gordon: Oh, for the love of - you want to stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire.

(Sam frowns)

Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there.

Sam: What do you know about vampires?

Gordon: How to kill them. Now seriously, bro. That knife's making me itch.

(Dean cocks his head. The man starts to pull away, Sam pins him harder.)

Whoa. Easy there, chachi.

(He slowly brings his right hand to his lip, pulls it back, revealing normal gums.)

See? Fangless. Happy?

(Dean lets up)

Now. Who the hell are you?


At the man's car, he pulls out his arsenal, which includes the large hook from the teaser scene.

Gordon: Sam and Dean Winchester. I can't believe it. You know I met your old man once? Hell of a guy. Great hunter. I heard he passed. I'm sorry. It's big shoes. But from what I hear you guys fill 'em. Great trackers, good in a tight spot -

Dean: You seem to know a lot about our family.

Gordon: Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk.

Dean: No, we don't, actually.

Gordon: I guess there's a lot your dad never told you, huh?

Sam: So, um, so those two vampires, they were yours, huh?

Gordon: Yep. Been here two weeks.

Dean: Did you check out that Barker farm?

Gordon: It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone.

Dean: Where's the nest, then?

Gordon: I've got this one covered. Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meetin' you fellas. But I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it.

Dean: We could help.

Gordon: Thanks, but uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy.

Dean: Come on, man, I"ve been itching for a hunt.

Gordon: Sorry. But hey, I hear there's a Chupacabra two states over. You go ahead and knock yourselves out.

(He gets in his car.)

It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side.

(He drives off)


A man is sitting in the quiet mill, alone. He hears a noise, starts investigating. He goes up to the roof, pulls out a crowbar. A crow flies at his head, startling him. He relaxes, then turns around to find...

Gordon attacking him with a machete. The man extends his fangs. They struggle near an electric saw; the vampire turns it on, pinning Gordon down below it, nearly decapitating him until...

Sam pulls him to safety; Dean attacks the vampire, getting him pinned under the electric saw. He lowers the saw, decapitating him.

Gordon: So uh, I guess I gotta buy you that drink.

Sam stares at Dean, stunned.




Gordon, Dean, and Sam are sitting around a table in the bar. A waitress brings them another round, Dean reaches for his wallet.

Gordon: No, no, I got it.

Dean: Come on.

Gordon: I insist.

(to the waitress)

Thank you, sweetie.

(raising his shot glass)

Another one bites the dust.

Dean: That's right.

Dean and Gordon drink a toast; Sam is sitting back, arms folded.

Gordon: Dean. (laughs) You gave that big-ass fang one hell of a haircut, my friend.

Dean: Thank you.

Gordon: That was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

Dean: Yep. You all right, Sammy?

Sam: I'm fine.

Gordon: Well, lighten up a little, Sammy.

Sam: He's the only one who gets to call me that.

Gordon: Okay. No offense meant. Just celebrating a little. Job well done.

Sam: Right. Well, decapitations aren't my idea of a good time, I guess.

Gordon: Oh, come one, man, it's not like it was human. You've gotta have a little more fun with your job.

Dean: See? That's what I've been trying to tell him. You could learn a thing or two from this guy.

Sam: Yeah, I bet I could. Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel.

Dean: You sure?

Sam: Yeah.

Dean: Sammy? Remind me to beat that buzzkill out of you later, all right?

(He tosses Sam the keys.)

Gordon: Something I said?

Dean: No, no, he just gets that way sometimes. Tell you what. Match you quarters for the next round.


Sam returns to the motel room, drops the keys on a hook.


Dean: ... So. I pick up this crossbow. And I hit that ugly sucker with a silver-tipped arrow right in his heart. Sammy's waiting in the car, and uh, me and my dad take the thing into the woods, burn it to a crisp. I'm sitting there and looking into the fire, and I'm thinking to myself, I'm sixteen years old. Most kids my age are worried about pimples, prom dates. I'm seeing things that they'll never even know. Never even dream of. So right then, I just sort of -

Gordon: Embraced the life?

Dean: Yeah.

Gordon: Yeah.

Dean: Yeah. How'd you get started?

Gordon: First time I saw a vampire I was barely eighteen. Home alone with my sister. I hear the window break in her room. I grab my dad's gun, run in, try to get it off her. Too late. So I shoot the damn thing. Which of course is about as useful as snapping it with a rubber band. It rushes me, picks me up, flings me across the room, knocks me out cold. When I wake up, the vampire's gone, my sister's gone.

Dean: And then?

Gordon: Then... try explaining that one to your family. So I left home. And then bummed around looking for information: how you track 'em, how you kill 'em. And I found that fang - it was my first kill.

Dean: Sorry about your sister.

Gordon: Yeah. She was beautiful. I can still see her, you know? The way she was. But hey, that was a long time ago. I mean, your dad. It's gotta be rough.

Dean: Yeah. Yeah, you know. He was just one of those guys. Took some terrible beatings, just kept coming. So you're always thinking to yourself, he's indestructible. He'll always be around, nothing can kill my dad. Then just like that (snaps) he's gone. I can't talk about this to Sammy. You know, I gotta keep my game face on. (clears throat) But uh, the truth is I'm not handling it very well. I feel like I have this -

Gordon: Hole inside you? And it just gets bigger and bigger and darker and darker? Good. You can use it. Keeps you hungry. Trust me. There's plenty out there needs killing, and this'll help you do it. Dean, it's not a crime to need your job.


The roadhouse is crowded, Ellen is working behind the bar. She hears the phone ring and picks up.

Ellen: Harvelle's Roadhouse.


Sam: Hey, Ellen, uh, Sam Winchester.

Ellen: Sam, it's good to hear from you. You boys are okay, aren't you?

Sam: Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. Got a question.

Ellen: Yeah, shoot.

Sam: You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?

Ellen: Yeah, I know Gordon.

Sam: And?

Ellen: Well, he's a real good hunter. Why are you asking, sweetie?

Sam: Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kinda working with him, I guess.

Ellen: Don't do that, Sam.

Sam: I - I thought you said he was a good hunter.

Ellen: Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter's a good psychiatrist. Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job you boys just let him handle it and you move on.

Sam: Ellen -

Ellen: No, Sam? You just listen to what I'm telling you, okay?

Sam: Right, okay.


Gordon: Know why I love this life?

Dean: Hmm?

Gordon: It's all black and white. There's no maybe. You find the bad thing, kill it. See, most people spend their lives in shades of gray. Is this right? Is that wrong? Not us.

Dean: Not sure Sammy would agree with you, but uh...

Gordon: Doesn't seem like your brother's much like us.

(Dean stares at him, startled)

I'm not saying he's wrong. Just different. But you and me? We were born to do this. It's in our blood.


Sam buys a soda from a vending machine and starts walking back to the room. He pauses as if hearing something, cautiously opens the door, looking around. He gets inside and leans against the door, relieved. Suddenly a dark figure jumps him from behind. He knocks his first attacker down, then the second; the first attacker rises up behind him and slams a heavy telephone into the back of his head, knocking him out.



The truck crosses a bridge.



Sam is bound to a chair and gagged, a sack over his head; it's pulled off by the bartender from earlier. He shows fangs and advances on Sam, who struggles.




As the vampire advances on Sam, a woman (Lenore) appears in the doorway.

Lenore: Wait! Step back, Eli.

Eli pulls back, his fangs retracting. The woman walks over and pulls off Sam's gag.

Lenore: My name's Lenore, I'm not going to hurt you. We just need to talk.

Sam: Talk? Yeah, okay, but I might have a tough time paying attention to much besides Eli's teeth.

Lenore: He won't hurt you either, you have my word.

Sam: Your word? Oh yeah, great, thanks. Listen lady, no offense but you're not the first vampire I've met.

Lenore: We're not like the others. We don't kill humans, and we don't drink their blood. We haven't for a long time.

Sam: What is this, some kind of joke?

Lenore: Notice you're still alive.

Sam: Okay, uh, correct me if I'm wrong here, but shouldn't you be starving to death?

Lenore: We've found other ways. Cattle blood.

Sam: You're telling me you're responsible for all the -

Lenore: It's not ideal, in fact it's disgusting. But it allows us to get by.

Sam: Okay, uh, why?

Lenore: Survival. No deaths, no missing locals, no reason for people like you to come looking for people like us. We blend in. Our kind is practically extinct. Turns out we weren't quite as high up the food chain as we imagined.

Eli: Why are we explaining ourselves to this killer?

Lenore: Eli!

Eli: We choke on cow's blood so that none of them suffer. Tonight they murdered Conrad and they celebrated.

Lenore: Eli, that's enough.

Sam: Yeah, Eli, that's enough.

Lenore: What's done is done. We're leaving this town tonight.

Sam: Then why did you bring me here? Why are you even talking to me?

Lenore: Believe me, I'd rather not. But I know your kind. Once you have the scent you'll keep tracking us, it doesn't matter where we go. Hunters will find us.

Sam: So you're asking us not to follow you.

Lenore: We have a right to live, we're not hurting anyone.

Sam: Right, so you keep saying, but give me one good reason why I should believe you.

Lenore: Fine. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to let you go.

(He looks at her, startled.)

Take him back. Not a mark on him.

Two vampires lead Sam back to the truck, his head covered in the sack again. They drive off.


Dean and Gordon sit at the table, discussing strategy over a map.

Gordon: This is the best pattern I can establish. It's sketchy at best.

Dean: Looks like it's all coming from this side of town. Which means the nest would be around here someplace, right?

Gordon: Yep, that's what I'm thinking. Problem is, there's thirty five, forty farms out there. I've searched about half of them already, but nothing yet. They're covering their tracks real good.

Dean: Then I guess we'll just have to search the other half.

(Dean looks at his watch)

What time is it? Where is Sam?

Gordon: Car's parked outside. Probably went for a walk. Seems like the take a walk type.

Dean: Yeah, he is, but...

The door opens and Sam enters. He gives Dean a look.

Dean: Where you been?

Sam: Can I talk to you alone?

Dean: (to Gordon)

You mind chillin' out for a couple minutes?


Sam and Dean exit the motel room and walk into the parking lot during the following.

Sam: Dean, maybe we've got to rethink this hunt.

Dean: What are you talking about? Where were you?

Sam: In the nest.

Dean: You found it?

Sam: They found me, man.

Dean: How'd you get out? How many did you kill?

Sam: None.

Dean: Well Sam, they didn't just let you go.

Sam: That's exactly what they did.

Dean: All right, well, where is it?

Sam: I was blindfolded, I don't know.

Dean: Well, you've got to know something.

Sam: We went over that bridge outside of town, but Dean, listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them.

Dean: Why not?

Sam: I don't think they're like other vampires. I don't think they're killing people.

Dean: You're joking. Then how do they stay alive? Or undead, or whatever the hell they are.

Sam: The cattle mutilations. They said they live off of animal blood.

Dean: And you believed them?

Sam: Look at me, Dean. They let me go without a scratch.

Dean: Wait, so you're saying... No, man, no way. I don't know why they let you go. I don't really care. We find 'em, we waste 'em.

Sam: Why?

Dean: What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, Sam? If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job.

Sam: No, Dean, that is not our job. Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!

Dean: Of course they're killing people, that's what they do. They're all the Same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them.

Sam: No, Dean, I don't think so, all right? Not this time.

Dean: Gordon's been on those vamps for a year, man, he knows.

Sam: Gordon?

Dean: Yes.

Sam: You're taking his word for it?

Dean: That's right.

Sam: Ellen says he's bad news.

Dean: You called Ellen?

(Sam nods)

And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her, Sam, no thanks, I'll go with Gordon.

Sam: Right, 'cause Gordon's such an old friend. You don't think I can see what this is?

Dean: What are you talking about?

Sam: He's a substitute for Dad, isn't he? A poor one.

Dean: Shut up, Sam.

Sam: He's not even close, Dean. Not on his best day.

Dean: You know what? I'm not even going to talk about this.

Sam: You know, you slap on this big fake smile but I can see right through it. Because I know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to. It's an insult to his memory.

Dean: Okay.

He starts to turn away, then punches Sam, hard. Sam pauses, turning back slowly, but not rising to the bait.

Sam: You hit me all you want. It won't change anything.

Dean: I'm going to that nest. You don't want to tell me where it is, fine. I'll find it myself.

Sam: Dean?


Dean returns to the motel room, Sam following; Gordon is gone.

Dean: Gordon?

Sam: You think he went after them?

Dean: Probably.

Sam: Dean, we have to stop him.

Dean: Really, Sam? Because I say we lend a hand.

Sam: Just give me the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that.

Dean: Yeah, we'll see. I'll drive. Give me the keys.

Sam points to the table where he'd set them earlier; they're gone.

Sam: He snaked the keys.

INT. Impala - NIGHT

Dean is hotwiring his car and grimacing.

Dean: I can't believe this. I just fixed her up, too.

(The car starts)

So the bridge, is that all you got?

Sam: The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm.

Dean: How do you know?

Sam: I counted.

(He starts tracing a path on the map in his lap.)

They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly up a hill, then took another quick right and we hit the bridge.

Dean: You're good. You're a monster pain in the ass, but you're good.


Lenore is packing things into boxes; Eli comes in and sets a box on the table.

Lenore: In the truck, thank you.

Eli: We can't leave like this. Lenore. Listen to me, we need to stay and fight.

Lenore: They were my friends too, Eli, my family.

Eli: That's not what I'm talking about. This is self defense. Kill or be killed. They can't hunt us if they're dead.

Lenore: Killing those three wouldn't solve anything. There's more where they came from. We're outnumbered. This. This is all we can do. Try and reason -

Eli: You can't reason with these people. They're going to kill us all anyway. We should at least take a few of them with us.

Lenore: I'm not giving up hope. If we can change, they can change. Now go into town and gather the others. We leave before sunrise.


Gordon's red car crosses the bridge and turns up a small road.

Some ways behind, Sam and Dean are in the Impala. Sam sighs, staring at the map. Dean glances at him, then looks back to the road. Sam frowns at Dean.


Lenore comes out of the house with a box, sets it on the flatbed of a truck. She turns and Gordon is there. He grabs her, raises a knife that glistens with blood. He stabs it into her chest; she goes limp.

Gordon: Dead man's blood, bitch.




Gordon dips the knife into a jar of blood. Lenore is tied to a chair nearby, covered in cuts, pale and sickly. He circles around her, slices the bloody knife across her chest. she gasps. Sam and Dean arrive.

Gordon: Sam, Dean. Come on in.

Dean: Hey, Gordon. What's going on?

Gordon: Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's going to tell us where all her little friends are, aren't you? Want to help?

Dean: Look, man,

Gordon: Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers.

He drags the knife across her arm.

Dean: Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, let's all just chill out, huh?

Gordon: I'm completely chill.

Sam: Gordon, put the knife down.

Sam steps towards Gordon, Dean stops him with a hand on his chest.

Gordon: Sounds like it's Sam here needs to chill.

Sam: Just step away from her, all right?

Gordon: You're right. I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery.

(He pulls out a larger knife)

I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane.

He turns towards Lenore; Sam steps to block him.

Sam: Gordon, I'm letting her go.

Gordon points the knife at Sam's chest, stopping him.

Gordon: You're not doing a damn thing.

Dean: Hey, hey, hey, Gordon, let's talk about this.

Gordon: What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean. No shades of gray.

Dean: Yeah. I hear ya. And I know how you feel.

Gordon: Do you?

Dean: That vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one...

Gordon: (laughing)

Killed my sister? That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself.

Dean: You did what?

Gordon: It wasn't my sister anymore, it wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you.

Sam: So you knew all along, then? You knew about the vampires, you knew they weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle. And you just didn't care.

Gordon: Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me. Doesn't change what they are. And I can prove it.

He grabs Sam's arm, slices the knife across it, then lays the knife against his throat, dragging him towards Lenore. Dean pulls his gun.

Dean: Let him go. Now!

Gordon: Relax. If I wanted to kill him he'd already be on the floor. Just making a little point.

Gordon holds the cut on Sam's arm over Lenore, so the blood drips on her face. She hisses, fangs extending.

Dean: Hey!

Gordon: You think she's so different? Still want to save her? Look at her. They're all the Same. Evil, bloodthirsty.

Lenore controls herself, retracting her fangs, and turns her face away.

Lenore: No. No!

Sam: You hear her, Gordon?

Lenore: No! No!

Sam pushes Gordon away.

Sam: We're done here.

Dean: Sam, get her out of here.

Sam: Yeah.

Sam picks Lenore up in his arms; Gordon takes a step towards him, but Dean still has the gun trained on him.

Dean: Uh-uh. Uh-uh! Gordon. I think you and I've got some things to talk about.

Gordon: Get out of my way.

Dean: Sorry.

Gordon: You're not serious.

Dean: I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw. If you want those vampires, you've gotta go through me.

Gordon nods, considering. He looks at his knife, then jams it into the table.

Gordon: Fine.

Dean looks at the knife, looks at his gun. He pulls the clip out of the gun and sets it aside. Gordon punches him; they start fighting. Gordon grabs the knife again; Dean groans. They are fairly well matched.

Gordon: What are you doing, man? You doing this for a fang? Come on, Dean, we're on the Same side here.

Dean: I don't think so, you sadistic b*st*rd.

Gordon throws Dean across the room.

Gordon: You're not like your brother. You're a killer, like me.

Dean kicks Gordon down, hauls him up against the wall, and elbows him in the face, knocking him out. Pinning him under his elbow, he slams Gordon's head into another wall. He sets him in a chair and ties him up.

Dean: You know, I might be like you, and I might not. But you're the one tied up right now.




Sam returns to find Gordon tied to the chair, Dean pacing.

Sam: Did I miss anything?

Dean: Nah, not much. Lenore get out okay?

Sam: Yeah. All of them did.

Dean: Then I guess our work here is done. How you doin', Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet? All right. Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have them come out, untie you.

He jams Gordon's knife into a table behind him.

Sam: Ready to go, Dean?

Dean: Not yet. I guess this is goodbye. Well, it's been real.

(He hits Gordon, knocking him to the floor)

Okay. I'm good now. We can go.


As they exit the farmhouse, both wince at their recent injuries - Sam's left arm is wrapped in a bandage. Dean stops, setting himself on his feet like a boxer.

Dean: Sam? Clock me one.

Sam: What?

Dean: Come on. I won't even hit you back. Let's go.

Sam: No.

Dean: Let's go, you can get a freebie. Hit me, come on.

Sam: You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean. I'll take a raincheck.

Dean: I wish we never took this job, just... jacked everything up.

Sam: What do you mean?

Dean: Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives.

Sam: Okay.

Dean: What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us...

Sam: Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could.

Dean: I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.

Sam: You didn't kill Lenore.


No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all.

Sam: Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters.

Dean: Yeah. Well, 'cause you're a pain in my ass.

Sam: Guess I might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then.

Dean: Thanks.

Sam: Don't mention it.

Sam gets in the passenger's side; Dean stares off into the distance for a moment before climbing in and driving away.


transcription by gelasius 10/13/06