03x14 - Long-Distance Call

3.14 Long-Distance Call

Air Date: 1 May 2008



A man is in his study. He pours a whiskey and walks back and forth, looking worried. The phone rings and he jerks. He stares at it for a long moment then moves to pick it up. The phone's display shows 'sHA33'.

Man: Hello.

Woman: Ben.




Ben, I had to talk to you...


You can't keep calling here.


I know. I know, just...just tell me you thought about it please.


There's nothing to think about.


Don't say that.


I can't. You know I can't. My wife...


I'm begging you, come to me. Come to me, Ben.



He hangs up. The phone immediately starts ringing again. BEN picks it up.


Linda. Please. Please leave me alone.


I'm not going to stop. I miss you, Ben. We could be happy. We could be happy together.


This is...this is crazy.


I love you! Forever. Don't you love me?


You know I do. More than anything. I'm sorry.


Ben, wait...

BEN hangs up. The phone rings again. BEN picks up the receiver and slams it back down a number of times, then throws the whole phone across the room, the cord ripping out of the wall. BEN rubs his face and stares at nothing.

After a few moments the phone starts ringing again. BEN looks shattered. He slowly opens the desk draw and takes out a handgun. He stares at it for a few seconds then takes a deep breath.


Okay, Linda. You win.

He stares at the ceiling, then lifts the gun and places the barrel against his throat, pointing upwards. He cocks it.


I'm coming.

Close up of the phone screen spinning through letter and numbers and again landing on SHA33. A gunshot is heard, then the thud of something hitting the ground.

END Teaser


Sam walks across a city square toward Dean sitting on a bench.

Dean: (Into phone) Yep. I got it. Okay, bye.

Dean hangs up then in one motion picks up and throws an unopened can of soda to Sam, stands up and shoves the last of the food he is eating into his mouth.

Dean: (Chewing) So?

Sam: So, the professor doesn't know crap.

Dean: Shocking. Pack your panties, Sammy, we're hitting the road.

Sam: What? What's up?

Dean: That was Bobby. Some banker guy blew his head off in Ohio and he thinks there's a spirit involved.

Sam: So you two were talking a case?

Dean: No, we were actually talking about our feelings. And then our favourite boy bands. Yeah, we were talking a case!

Sam: So a spirit, what?

Dean: Yeah, the banker was talking about some sort of electrical problems at his pad for like a week. Phone was going haywire, computer was flipping on and off.

Sam: Huh...

Dean: This is not ringing your bell?

Sam: Well, sure, yeah. But, Dean, we're already on a case.

Dean: Whose?

Sam: Yours.

Dean: Right. Yeah. Well, you coulda fooled me.

Sam: What the hell else have we been doing lately other than trying to break your deal?

Dean: Chasing our tails, that's what. Sam, we've talked to every professor, witch, soothsayer and two bit carny act in the lower 48. Nobody knows squat! And we can't find Bela, we can't find the Colt. So until we actually find something, I'd like to do my job.

Sam: Well there's one thing we haven't tried yet...

Dean: Sam, no.

Sam: We should summon Ruby.

Dean: I'm not gunna have this fight with you.

Sam: She said she knows how to save you.

Dean: Well, she can't.

Sam: Oh really, you know that for sure?

Dean: I do.

Sam: How?

Dean: Because she told me, okay!

Sam: What?

Dean: She told me. Flat out. She can't save me, nobody can.

Sam: And you just somehow neglected to mention this to me?

Dean: Well, I really don't care what that bitch thinks and neither should you, so...

Sam: So what, now you're keeping secrets from me, Dean?

Dean: You really wanna talk about who's keeping secrets from who?

They stare at each other in silence for a long moment. Sam turns away.

Dean: Now where you going?

Sam: Guess I'm going to Ohio.



Sam and Dean in the Impala turn into the driveway of the house where BEN died. Cut to the study.

Woman: (Pointing) I found him there.

Dean: Why don't you tell us everything you saw, Mrs Waters.


You mean beside my dead husband?

Sam: Just everything else you saw. Please.


(Sighing) Blood. Everywhere. The phone was ripped from the wall, his favourite scotch on the desk, what else could you possibly want to know?

Sam: Why was the phone ripped from the wall?


I don't know.

Sam: You mind if I take a look?


I already went over this with the other Detectives.

Dean: We'll be out of your hair in no time, ma'am.

Sam: (Pressing a few buttons) Ma'am, what time did your husband die?


(Sighing) Sometime after 11.

Sam waits until Dean looks at him, then taps the phone display.

Dean: What about strange phone calls? Receive any of those lately, weird interference, static, anything like that?


(Defensively) No.

Dean raises his eyebrows at her.



Dean: Mrs Waters, withholding information from the police is a capital offence.

Sam noisily clears his throat. Dean glances at him and receives a bitchface.

Dean: (Under his breath) In some parts of the world I'm sure.


(Sighing) A couple of weeks ago, uh...there was this...

Dean: This what?


I woke up one morning, I heard Ben in his study. I thought he was talking to a woman.

Sam: What made you think that?


Because he kept calling her Linda. The thing is, I picked up the other line and nobody was there, Ben was talking to nobody.

Sam: There was nothing?


Just static.

Sam: Did you ever speak to Ben about this phone call?


No. I should have but...no.

Sam: Did he ever say who Linda was?


(Getting upset) What difference does it make, there was nobody on the other end!

The boys exchange a look.



Dean is at the laptop, Sam sitting on the bed.

Dean: Linda's a babe. Or, was.

Sam: (Rising) Did you find her?

Dean: Yeah, Linda Bateman. She and Ben Waters were high school sweethearts.

Sam: So what happened?

Dean: Drunk driver hit them head on. Ben walked away.

Sam: So, what then? Dead flame calls to chat?

Dean: You would think, but Linda was cremated. So why's she still floating around?

Sam: You got me.

Dean: What about that, uh, caller I.D?

Sam: Turns out, it's a phone number.

Dean: No phone number I've ever seen.

Sam: Yeah, 'cause it's about a century old, back from when phones had cranks.

Dean: So why use that number to reach out and touch someone?

Sam: Got me there too, but we should put a trace on it.

Dean: Well how the hell are we going to put a trace on something that's over 100 years old?



Dean and Sam follow a suited man down the stairs and along a hallway.

Man: We don't get many folks from HQ down here.

Dean: Yes well the main office mentioned that there would be a lunch.

Sam gives Dean bitchface behind the man's back. Dean shrugs.

Man: Well I'm sure we can arrange something. The man you wanna be speaking to is right this...

Sam swipes at a fly that has flown into his hair.

Man: I know, sorry. We've got something of a hygiene issue down here if you ask me.

Man: (Entering the basement office) Stewie? What did I tell you about keeping this place clean.

STEWIE sits at a large console with multiple screens and keyboards. Various packets and junk food are strewn about. STEWIE jumps at their entrance and desperately tries to close down the multiple screens in front of him showing advertisements for p0rn sites.


(Clicking quickly) Spam mail...spam mail...

Man: Stewie Myers. Mr Campbell. Mr Raimi.


(Still clicking) I don't know how all this got here...

The Man reaches out and flicks the back of STEWIE's head, making him jump again and grunt.

Man: From headquarters?

STEWIE spins around in his chair, then quickly crosses his legs and places his hands together on his lap.

Man: Give these gentlemen whatever they need.



Dean: Thank you.

Sam: Thanks.

The Man leaves.


So...can I help you?

Dean checks to make sure the Man is gone, then gestures toward the screen.

Dean: (Smirking) Is that, ahhh, BustyAsianBeauties.com?


(Quickly) No.


Oh, me so horny.

A shot of the screen shows it is bustyasianbeauties.com.


(Quickly clicking again) Maybe.

Dean: A word to the wise? Platinum membership? Worth every penny. Ha? (Dean nods knowingly)

Sam: Right, anyway. We're here to trace a number?

Sam hands STEWIE a piece of paper.


Where did you get this?

Sam: Off caller I.D.


Oh no, that's impossible.

Dean: It hasn't been used in a few years, we know.


A few years? It's prehistoric. Trust me, nobody is using this number anymore.

Sam: Sure. Could you run it anyway?


(Snarkily) Sure. Why don't I just rearrange my whole life first.

Dean and Sam glance at each other. Dean smiles.

Dean: (Leaning closer) Listen, uh, Stewie. You got like six kinds of employee code violations down here, not to mention the sickening p0rn that is clogging up your hard drive. Now when my partner says run the number, I suggest you run the number!

They both give Stewie a hard look. He looks between them then turns back to his console. Dean grins and Sam shrugs and smiles back.


Okay, whatever, jeez!

STEWIE clicks a few more buttons. One of his screens fills with a long list of numbers.


Holy crap.

Sam: What?


I can't tell you where the number comes from, but I can tell you where it's been going.

Sam: What do you mean?

STEWIE pushes print, goes to the printer and hands some paper to Sam.


Ten different number in the past few weeks, all got calls from the Same number.

He looks between Sam and Dean as they stare at each other, then sighs and walks between them back to his console. He sits and stares at it for a moment, then looks back.


So, are we done here? Cause I was...sort of...busy?

Dean: (Smirking) Right.



Sam gets out of a rental car. He makes his way up a footpath, knocking on the door. It is opened by a middle-aged man. His son comes to stand beside him, around 6-7 yrs old.

Man: Yeah?

Sam: Hello sir, I am with the phone company?

Man: We didn't call the phone company.

Sam: Oh no sir, we're calling you. We've had a lot of complaints from the neighbourhood lately.

Man: Complaints?

Sam: Yes sir. Dropped calls, static, maybe even strange voices on the other end of the line?

A teenage girls steps into the hallway while Sam is speaking, looking startled.

Man: No, we haven't had any of that here.

Sam: Nothing?

Man: No.

Sam: Okay. Great, just thought we'd check. Thanks.

Man: No problem. (to his son) Come on, Simon.

As they turn to close the door Sam sees the girl staring at him, looking scared. She turns away as the door closes. Sam stares after her.

Sam returns to his car. As he opens the door the girl appears.


No way you work for the phone company.

Sam: Sure I do.


Since when does a phone guy drive a rental or wear a cheap suit?


(Huffing a laugh) Yeah, well. Maybe we're both keeping secrets.


Why did you ask my Dad if he's hearing strange voices on the phone?

Sam: Why, did you hear something?



Sam: My mistake, I thought maybe you did.


Well I didn't, okay?

Sam: (Smiling) Okay. Sorry to bother you.

LANIE looks uncomfortable but doesn't move. Sam looks down at his keys.

Sam: Because you know...if you did...then I would have told you that I've been right where you're standing right now. Hearing things, even seeing things that can't be explained. Maybe I would have been able to help out a little bit. Anyway...


Hey wait. Maybe...maybe I've been talking on the phone...with my Mom.

Sam: Well that's not so strange.


She's dead. Like three years now.

Sam: How often does she call you?


A few times. It started a week ago. I thought I was like, crazy or something.

Sam: Well I can tell you one thing for sure, and you're going to have to go with me on this, okay? You're not crazy.



Sam: (answering phone) Yeah.

Dean: (Walking down a busy street) Dude, stiffs have been calling people all over town.

Sam: Yeah, tell me about it.

Dean: I just talked to an 84 year old grandmother who's having phone s*x with her husband, who died in Korea!

Sam: Eww.

Dean: It redefined my understanding of the word 'Necrophilia'.

A young woman walking past Dean overhears and gasps, giving him a dirty look as she passes. He pauses, grimacing, then turns to check her out as she continues walking.

Sam: So what the hell's going on here, Dean?

Dean: (Reaching the Impala) Beats me, but we'd better find out soon. This place is turning into spook central.

Sam: Yeah. All right, I'll call you later.

Dean: (Opening the door) Yeah.

They hang up. Dean's phone immediately rings again.

Dean: Yeah, what?

There is nothing but static.

Dean: Sam?

John: Dean?

Dean freezes, looking shocked.

John: Dean, is that you?

Dean: Dad?




Sam sits at the table, Dean paces.

Sam: Dad? You really think it was Dad?

Dean: I don't know, maybe.

Sam: Well what did he sound like?

Dean: Like Oprah! Like Dad, he sounded like Dad, what do you think?

Sam: What did he say?

Dean: My name.

Sam: That's it?

Dean: Call dropped out.

Sam: Why would he even call in the first place, Dean?

Dean: I don't know, man. Why are ghosts calling anybody in this town? But I mean, other people are hearing from their loved ones, why can't we? It's at least a possibility, right?

Sam: Yeah, I guess?

Dean: Okay, so what if...what if it really is Dad? What happens if he calls back?

Sam: What do you mean?

Dean: What do I say?

Sam: Hello.

Dean: Hello?

Sam shrugs.

Dean: That's what you come back with. Hello?

Sam: Uhh...

Dean: (Grabbing his jacket and heading for the door) Hello!

Dean walks out. Sam looks after him, concerned. He shakes his head.



Later. Sam sits on the couch with the laptop in front of him. Dean returns.

Dean: Find anything?

Sam: After three hours I have found no reason why anything supernatural would be going on here.

Dean: Well, you know, you think a Stanford education and a high school hook up rate of zero point zero would produce better results than that.

Sam: Hilarious.

Dean: Sammy, you're just looking in the wrong places, pal.

Sam: And what are the right places, Dean?

Dean: (Reaching into his jacket pocket) Motel pamphlet rack.

Dean drops some literature on the coffee table.

Dean: Milan, Ohio. Birthplace of Thomas Edison.

Sam: (Flicking through the papers) Yeah, right. So what?

Dean: Keep reading.

Sam scoffs slightly and keeps looking. He sighs, but after a few moments his eyebrows go up and he looks at Dean.

Sam: You're kidding.

Dean raises his eyebrows back, smiling.



A young female guide shepherds a tour.


And we're walking. And, here we have one of the museum's most unique and treasured possessions. Thomas Edison's [i]spirit phone[i]. Did you know that Mr Edison, as well as being one of America's most beloved inventors, was also a devout [i]occultist[i]? Ooh!

Dean: (Whispering) What's with the quote-y fingers?


He spent years working on this, his final invention, which he was convinced could be used to [i]communicate[i]with the [i]dead[i]. Pretty spooky, huh?

The guide checks her watch, twirls her fingers in the air and begins leading the group into the next room.


And we're walking. We are walking. We're walking. And we're not touching that. And we're walking. And stop.

Sam quickly gets out his EMF and holds it over the spirit phone.

Dean: Anything?

Sam: Nothing.

Dean: What do you think?

Sam: Honestly? It kinda looks like an old pile of junk to me.

Dean: It's not even plugged in.

Sam: Maybe it didn't work like that.

Dean: Okay. Maybe it's like a radio tower, broadcasting the dead all over town.

Sam: Could be.

Dean: You know, this caller I.D. is 100 years old, right? Right around the time this thing was built.

Sam: Yeah, but why would it all of a sudden start working now?

Dean: I don't know. But as long as the mouldy are calling the freshers around here it's the best reason we've got.

Sam: Yeah, maybe.

Dean: So maybe it really is Dad.



Sam sleeps. Dean sits at the table, a large take away coffee cup in his hand, his phone beside him. He stares into space. The phone rings, the display showing 'sHA33'. Dean grabs it quickly and heads into the bathroom.

Dean: (Whispering) Dad?

John: Dean.

Dean: Is it really you?

John: It's me.

Dean: How can I be sure?

John: You can't. Dean, how could you do it?

Dean: What?

John: Sell your soul.

Dean: (Concerned) I was looking after Sam, like you told me to.

John: I never wanted this. Never. You're my boy, I love you. I can't watch you to go to hell, Dean.

Dean: I'm sorry. I don't know how to stop it.

John: 'Cause if you break the deal Sam dies, right?

Dean: What?

John: Well I know a way out. For both of you.

Dean: How?

John: The demon who holds your contract. He's here. Now.



LANIE is on her computer.


(Writes) Okay. See you tomorrow.

The computer beeps a new message.


Lanie? Is that you?


(Typing) Mom?


I asked you a question last night. Have you thought about it?


I don't know what you want.


Of course you do. I want to see you.


I went to see you. At the cemetery.


That's not what I mean.


But I'm scared.


Don't be sacred. I'm right here with you.

The screen suddenly blacks out. LANIE can see her reflection in it. She is terrified. Behind her, her mother approaches and lays a hand on her shoulder. LANIE swings around but there's no one there. She jumps up, turns off the screen and backs away, gasping and crying.

The screen turns itself back on. LANIE gasps. "Come to me." is typed over and over across the whole screen. LANIE approaches the computer, crying.




Dean is typing furiously on the laptop. Sam enters.

Dean: What's up?

Sam: That girl Lanie, her Mom's ghost spooked her out pretty bad last night.

Dean: That sucks.

Sam: Yeah it does. What are you doing?

Dean: I think Dad's right. I think the demon is here. Check it out.

Dean hands Sam some papers and goes to his bag.

Sam: What is this, weather reports?

Dean: Omens. Demonic omens. Electrical storms everywhere we've been for the past two weeks.

Sam: Ahh...I don't remember any lightning storms.

Dean: Well, I don't remember you studying meteorology as a kid either. But I'm telling you, that b*st*rd's been tailing me...wearing some poor dude's meat.

Sam: And it's following you because...

Dean: I guess I'm big game, you know. My ass is too sweet to let outta sight.

Sam: Okay. Sure.

Dean: (Snatching the papers back) Don't get too excited, Sammy. Might pull something.

Sam: Dean, look, I wanna believe this man, I really do...

Dean: Then believe it! if we get this sucker, it's Miller Time.

Sam: Yeah, that's another thing. Dad rattles off an exorcism that can kill a demon? I mean not just send it back to hell, but kill it?

Dean: I've checked it out. This is heavy duty Dark Ages. Fifteenth century.

Sam: (Quietly) Yeah, I've checked on it too Dean. And so did Bobby.

Dean: Okay, and?

Sam: Look. It definitely is an exorcism, okay, there's just no evidence it can kill a demon.

Dean: No evidence it can't.

Sam: Come on man...

Dean: Hey, as far as I'm aware the only one of us who has actually been to hell is Dad. And maybe he picked up a couple of tricks down there, like which exorcisms work.

Sam: Maybe it does. I hope it does too, but we gotta be sure.

Dean: Why aren't we sure?

Sam: 'Cause I don't know what's going on around here Dean! I mean, some guy blows his brains out, a little girl is scared out of her wits.

Dean: Wow, a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts. News flash Sam, people are supposed to be freaked out by ghosts!

They stare at each other for a long moment. Sam sighs and Dean drops his head in frustration.

Sam: Dad tell you where to find the demon?

Dean: (Shouting) I'm waiting on the call!

Sam: (Sighing again) I told Lanie I'd stop by.

Dean: (Sarcastic) Oh, good yeah. No you go hang out with jail bait. Just, uh, watch out for Chris Hansen. Meanwhile I'll be here getting ready to, you know, save my life.

Sam keeps moving toward the door.

Dean: (Shouting) You're unbelievable, you know that? I mean for months we've been trying to break this demon deal. Now Dad's about to give us the freaking address and you can't accept it? The man is dead and you're still butting heads with the guy!

Sam: That is not what this is about.

Dean: (Shouting) So what is it!

Sam: (Shouting back) The fact is we've got no hard proof here, Dean. After everything, you're still just going on blind faith!

Dean: Yeah, well maybe! You know, maybe that's all I got, okay?

They stare at each other again. Dean looks down.

Sam: Please. Just please don't go anywhere until I get back. Okay, Dean? Please.

Dean remains silent. Sam shakes his head and turns for the door. Dean watches him go and continues staring at the door for a long moment. He shakes his head and moves to sit heavily at the table.



Sam: Have you told your father about any of this?


And bother him at work? No. He wouldn't believe me anyway, he'd just Chuck me into therapy.

Sam: So what did your mother say?


She wanted to see me. So at first I thought I was supposed to go to the cemetery.

Sam: Did you?


(Nodding) Nothing happened. But then she started asking me to do other things.

Sam: What sort of things?


Bad things.



SIMON sits playing at his table. The phone rings. SIMON looks over at his toy telephone sitting on the floor then walks over to it. The display reads SHA33.


Hello? Simon Greenfield speaking. Hi Mommy. Yeah, I wanna see you. Where are you?



Dean sits at the table staring at nothing. His phone ring and he snatches it up.

Dean: Dad?

John: Yeah.

Dean: Where's the demon?



Sam: Lanie please. Tell me what happened, it's very important.


Mom told me to go to Dad's medicine cabinet.

Sam: And?


She wanted me to take his sleeping pills, take all of his sleeping pills.

Sam: She wanted you to kill yourself?


(Nods, crying) Why would my Mom want me to do that?

Sam: I don't know.


I mean, just so I could come to her?

Sam: What'd you say?


She wanted me to come to her.

Sam: No, how'd she say it?


"Come to me." Like a million times.

Sam: Lanie. That's not your mother.



Dean pulls up and gets out. He grabs his weapon's bag from the trunk, looks around and moves toward a house.



Sam: Listen to me. Don't answer the phone. Don't use the computer. Don't do anything unless I say to, all right?

Sam starts down the stairs and realises LANIE's not following.

Sam: Lanie.


(standing in a doorway) Where's Simon?



Dean enters quietly enters and moves down the hallway, listening. A floorboard creaks on the second floor.

Dean: Hello?



SIMON walks as if in a trance across the road. Cars horns blare.



Dean drops a rosary into a large bottle of water. Cut to him shaking a paint can and spraying a devil's trap on the floor.


SIMON keeps walking across the next road. A large truck barrels toward him. In the cab the driver glances away from the road to check his delivery list. He looks back to see SIMON in front of him. The truck horn blares and tires squeal. SIMON seems to awaken and throws his hands up to protect himself. Sam rushes the road, grabs SIMON and dives for the verge. They lay panting as the truck roars past.



Sam: (On phone) Dean, it's not Dad.

Dean: Then what is it?

Sam: A crocotta.

Dean: Is that a sandwich?

Sam: Some kind of scavenger. Mimics loved ones, whispers 'Come to me', then lures you into the dark and swallows your soul.

Dean: A crocotta, right, damn that makes sense.

Sam: Dean, look, I'm sorry man, I know...

Dean: Hey, don't these things live in filth?

Sam: Yeah.

Dean: Sam, the flies at the phone company.



Sam creeps along an alley and peaks in a window at STEWIE, sitting at his console. He is distracted by a banging noise. When he looks back STEWIE is leaving the room. Sam runs back up the alley.

Cut to STEWIE leaving the building. Sam hides behind a van, holding his phone to his ear.


This is Herman Munster. Leave a message.

Sam: Dean, I'm in the parking lot. He's here. Hurry.

STEWIE unlocks his car. Sam rushes him, pushing him into the car and holding a metal spike to the back of his neck.


(Grunting) What the hell!

Sam: I know what you are.


Wait, mister.

Sam: And I know how to kill you.


Please. Okay, wait, wait. If we're overcharging you for the call waiting or something I...I can fix that. I am your friend!

Sam looks confused.


Please. Please just don't kill me!

The manager from earlier sneaks up behind Sam.


Don't kill me, please!

The manager hits Sam over the head with a bat. Sam slumps to the ground.

STEWIE turns around, sees the manager, grins and starts bouncing up and down.


Yeah! That's what happens when you mess with the phone company, dillweed!


(To his manager) Thank you, Clark!


(Lifting the bat again) Forget about it.



CLARK smashes STEWIE with the bat.




STEWIE and Sam are tied to chairs.


(Snivelling) I'm sorry, Clark. I'm sorry for whatever I did to you. I'm sorry...please...

Sam: (Coming to) Wait! Don't do it.


(To Sam) You're awake.

CLARK leans over STEWIE and places the tip of a knife against his thigh.


You're not a killer Clark, no! There's a good man inside of you, I know it.


What do you think, Sammy, am I a good man?

Sam: Just let him go.


I would. I really would. If only I'd had more than a salad for lunch. You see, I'm starving.

He lifts the knife high above his head and plunges it into STEWIE's chest.

Sam: No!

CLARK moves in front of STEWIE's body. His mouth opens, revealing a blood red interior and razor sharp spikes. He crouches slightly, holds STEWIE by both shoulders and unhinges his jaw, his mouth becoming impossibly wide. Placing his mouth close to STEWIE's face he sucks in his energy. Sam shudders and looks away.

CLARK stands, wiping his mouth.

Sam: My last call with Dean. That was you. You led me here.


Some calls I make, some calls I take, but you have to admit, I had you fooled for a while. All that Edison phone crap.

CLARK laughs and moves over to the telephone exchange cabinet. He places his hands against the glass and leans back in ecstasy.

Sam: What are you doing?


I'm killing your brother. Or maybe I'm killing another guy. We'll just have to see how it goes.



A man's phone rings just as he finishes changing. He looks at the number, glances over at the other person in the room, and answers.

Man: (Softly) Hello?

Girl: (Through static) Hi Daddy.

Man: Hey baby. I thought you said you weren't gunna call anymore.

Girl: I know, Daddy.

Man: You know how sad this makes your old man. How upset I was at your funeral.

Girl: I had to call, I know who killed me Daddy.

Man: What?

Girl: The man who killed me, he's at the house right now.

Man: (Shocked) What are you saying to me?

Girl: He's at the house Daddy, he wants to kill you too!

Hanging up the phone, the man's face becomes set in stone.



CLARK pulls the knife out of STEWIE's chest.

Sam: You know, mimicking Dean's one thing. But my Dad. That's a hell of a trick.


Well once I made you two as hunters, it was easy. I found Dean's number, then your number, then your father's numbers. Then emails, voicemails, everything. You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'd be surprised how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked.

Sam: Dean's not going to fall for this. He's not going to kill that guy.


Then the guy kills him.



Car headlights shine across the window into the room where Dean waits. He silently moves toward the hallway. A car door slams. Dean removes the lid from the bottle of holy water. He hears a noise toward the back of the house and frowns, moving down the hallway toward the back door. He pauses, then looks from the back to the front door.

The back door slams open and the man appears, raising a rifle and firing. Dean leaps out of the way, dropping the bottle of holy water. The Man begins reloading. Dean glances at the holy water it is draining away. He waits to hear the bullet shell being removed and runs for the man, using his forward movement to slam him back into the wall. He hits him a few times, then knees him viciously. Letting him drop, Dean moves toward the rifle but the man follows, grabbing Dean and slamming him backwards onto a table. He gets in a few hits before Dean headbutts him. As the man falls backwards to the ground Dean kicks him in the stomach. He kicks him four times, pauses, then kicks him once more, even more viciously, grunting as he does so.




(Standing over Sam) Technology. Makes life so much easier. Used to be I'd hide in the woods for days, weeks, whispering to people, trying to draw them out into the night. But they had community, they all looked out for each other, I'd be lucky to eat one or two souls a year. Now when I'm hungry, I simply make a phone call. (Sneering) You're all so connected. But you've never been so alone.

CLARK opens his mouth and begins to unhinge his jaw while raising his knife. While he has been speaking Sam has managed to escape his ties, his wrists bloody. He erupts out of the chair and they fall to the ground, CLARK losing the knife. They struggle for it, Sam rising first. CLARK grabs Sam's jacket and swings him around into a metal grate. CLARK picks up the knife, running at Sam.



Dean and the Man slam through a glass door. The man is groggy. Dean quickly reaches for the man's belt. He pulls out a handgun, flicking the cartridge out and tossing it aside. As the man struggles to get to his feet, covered in glass, Dean pulls back the rug, showing the devil's trap sprayed onto the floor. He turns away, pulling the exorcism out of his pocket. The Man, confused, stares at the markings on the floor.

Man: What is this?

Dean: Your funeral.

Dean begins the exorcism in Latin. The man glares at him and slowly moves forward out of the circle.

Man: You do this to my daughter too?

Dean: (staring at the devil's trap) How the hell did you get out?

Man: (Shouting) Did you do this to my daughter too?

Dean: Wait, this is a mistake.

Man: You killed her!

Dean: No, wait.

The Man leaps at Dean.


Sam and CLARK struggle for the knife, exchanging blows as they move about the room. Sam finally manages to pull the knife away and hits CLARK, forcing him backwards into the wall. A spike, one of many on a corkboard, jams into the back of CLARK's neck, killing him.


The Man falls on Dean as he lies on the ground, laying into him.

Man: She was 9 years old!

Dean: Stop! I didn't! You gotta believe me!

The man keeps hitting him.

Dean manages to twist around and grab the rifle, smacking the man in the forehead with the butt. He falls backwards. Dean rises, standing over him.

Man: (Crying) Why did you kill her?

Dean: I'm sorry. I didn't kill your daughter.

Man: Then what are you doing here?

Dean: (Anguished) I don't know.





Dean holds a facecloth to his cut eye, groaning. Sam enters the room and comes to the door of the bathroom.

Dean: I see they improved your face.

Sam: (Sniggering) Right back at ya.

Dean moves past Sam into the main room. They sit on a bed each.

Dean: So, crocotta, huh?

Sam: Yep.

Dean: That would explain the flies.

Sam: Yeah it would. Hey, um...look I'm sorry it wasn't Dad.

Dean: (Huffs) Nah, I gave you a hell of a time on this one.

Sam: Ahh.

Dean: You were right.

Sam: Forget about it.

Dean: I can't. I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way outta this. I mean I'm staring down the barrel at this thing. You know, Hell. For real, forever, and I just...

Sam: Yeah.

Dean: (Tearing up) I'm scared, Sam. I'm really scared.

Sam: (Also tearing up) I know.

Dean: I guess I was willing to believe anything. You know, the last act of a desperate man.

Sam: There's nothing wrong with having hope, Dean.

Dean: Hope doesn't get you jack squat. I can't expect Dad to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can't expect anybody to, you know. I mean the only person that can get me out of this thing is me.

Sam: (Earnestly) And me.

Dean: And me?

Sam: What?

Dean: Deep revelation, having a real moment here, that's what you come back with? And me?

Sam: (Raising his eyebrows) Uh...do you want a poem?

Dean: The moment's gone.

Sam smiles slightly. Dean flicks the TV on, reaches between the beds, grabs two bottles of beer and holds one out to Sam without looking at him. Sam takes one, they crack them open and drink in unison, while staring at the TV.