Supernatural (2005–…): Season 10, Episode 16 - Supernatural - full transcript

Dean and Sam investigate grisly, identical suicides by various people with little in common; the brothers begin to suspect that a priest is involved.

Are you wondering how healthy the food you are eating is? Check it -
The name Olivette means little to you.

High-ranking member of the Grand Coven.

The one who laid the charge against me.
She's come back to the States.

Now would be an excellent time to strike.

And take out a
miserable old witch

who's been standing in
my way for centuries.

CROWLEY: No, that is not happening.
- What?

Something's come up.
Olivette can wait.

My peace is helping people. Working cases.

- That's all I wanna do.
- Is this about the Mark?

DEAN: I'm done trying to find a cure.
The answer's not out there. It's with me.

I'm gonna fight it till I can't anymore.

CROWLEY: What are you doing?
- What's it look like? I'm leaving.

Another petty manipulation.

What do you want from me?

Why, it breaks my heart to see
what a colossal numbnut you've become.

Sad, bored wee boy on
the throne who will

flop ass-up the second
those Winchesters...

hunters, who'd as soon see you dead
as have you to tea, ask you to.

You're their bitch.


TERRY: I detest all my sins
because of thy just punishment...

but most of all because they offend thee,
my God...

who art all good
and deserving of all my love.

I firmly resolve with the help of thy grace,
to sin no more...

and to avoid the near occasion of sin.

I absolve you of your sins...

in the name of the Father
and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.


Go in peace, Terry. See you Sunday.

That you will, Father.



- I beg you to speak with her.
- What now?

Your mother remains vexed
with your highness...

and vents her frustration
by abusing the court.

No one dares retaliate, of course.

And, yes, one expects to suffer in hell.

But I fear I've reached my limit. To wit:

I mean, seriously.



Yes, Your Royal Highness?

You care to comment?

Magnificent work
by an astonishing talent. Mm-hm. Brava.

I always said you were two-faced.

Look, Mommy, enough.
I know you're annoyed with me...

Annoyed? No, Fergus.

I am devastated, betrayed,
and brokenhearted.

Because I wouldn't go begging
to a bunch of witches on your behalf?

The Grand Coven is the supreme command
of all witchcraft.

Without their sanction,
I am forbidden to practice.

- Forgive me, I hadn't noticed you'd stopped.
- That?

Parlor trick. I'm capable of greatness.
Given free reign, I'd be unstoppable.

I am this close
to throwing you back into that dungeon.

Heh, of course. Why not?
Why do anything but cause me more pain?

Bad enough you wouldn't intervene
with Olivette and the Coven...

but you went directly against my wishes,
siding with those Winchesters.

Refusing to kill them, then delivering
the First Blade into their hands...

which you know could slaughter us all.

You prefer them
to your own flesh and blood.

It's a bitter pill, Fergus.
After all I've done for you.

And what exactly would that be?

I gave you life, Fergus.

Without me, sunshine...

you wouldn't exist.


All right, so I'm thinking, uh, curse, maybe.

Sam, a little help here, okay?

I'm trying to stay busy.
You know, eye on the ball, not on the Mark.

- This is a case till we know it's not.
- Sure. Yeah, you're right.

- Three suicides, two weeks.
- They're not just suicides.

They gutted themselves.

And they took their sweet time doing it.
I mean, that had to be incredibly painful.

I can't seem to find any link
between the vies either.

Yeah, probably a curse.

And this man, he was handsome?

ISABELLA: Exquisite.
He took my breath away.

But we are told not to speak so much
of the time before we joined the order.

We all found our way to this life for a reason.

Was he yours?

His name was Piero. An incredible artist.

Sometimes I would pose for him.

And he called me his muse.

As you can imagine,
we spent hours, days with each other.

I felt so free with him.


had never been close with a man
before that.


So, what happened?

I... I can't right now.

It's okay.


We're a lot alike. You know?

I think...

we're supposed to enter the convent...

for some higher purpose.

But many of us chose this...

because of the things...

that overwhelmed us.

So, what do we got? Terry Sloan.

Ordinary guy, not a lot of friends,
but no known enemies.

No relation to the other vics.

Well, not necessarily.
He's Catholic, and so are the other two.

This is Massachusetts.

There are a lot of Catholics
in Massachusetts.

You think this is a case?

Who kills himself with a candlestick?

- There's a billion better ways.
- But he did kill himself.

So he's not a witch.
There was nothing hexxy found on him.

Uh, possession?
Could have been a demon.

The point of a demon
possessing a living thing

is to, you know, possess
a living thing.

Okay, agent. Why don't you get that phone
back to the Bureau's crime lab...

and get it hacked like
you told those guys?

We'll figure out what's
going on with Terry.

- Probably nude selfies.
- I'm feeling good about this.





Hi, sweetie.

You need to come to bed, Frank.

You gotta be exhausted from all those
night hours you been putting in.

Yup, yup. The old job's gotten
pretty demanding, all right.



LISA: Oh, my God.
No. No. Frank!


DELANEY: I just can't believe Lisa McCarthy
would murder her husband.

SAM: Right.
Well, his blood was all over her body...

and her prints were all over the scissors
that butchered him.

- It's terrible.
- Yeah.

We also have some questions.
For starters, she has no memory of it.

The last thing she
remembers is being here.

Frank had gone
to confession.

SAM: So if he happened to say anything
in the confession about, you know...

maybe problems with the wife...

I'm sorry,
the nature of confession is confidential.


Father, all of the victims
attended your church.

Could you at least tell us
if they'd recently been to confession?

Yes, these men were
fairly regular.

But then, so are the
majority of the folks here.

- Father?
DELANEY: Agents...

Sister Mathias is our director
of social services.

I've asked her to show you around
and answer any questions.


DEAN: Sister.
- Agent...?

Allman. And this is Agent Betts.

Sister, you're aware
of the recent string of deaths, right?

Yes. A terrible tragedy.

But I'm confused as to why you're here.

These were all suicides, weren't they?

Well, possibly not.


Well, the actual method of killing
was all identical.

Ah, the MO.

Yes, indeed, the MO, heh.

I'm gonna go, uh, ahem,
have a look around.

Excuse me, sister. Agent Betts... Allman.

Ahem. Okay.

Sister, did you notice any change
in the McCarthys' lives?

Fighting, drinking, cheating?
You know, the usual.

"The usual"? A bit cynical, agent?

Scissors to the gut
really bring out the grinch in me.


Now, Lisa McCarthy
said that

they were very devoted
to each other.

- Was that true?
- That always appeared to be the case.


We're looking for a
motive, aren't we?

We are.

An earlier victim's cell phone
showed angry texts...

between he and his girlfriend
because he'd been fooling around.

There were rumors.

So Frank cheated on Lisa?
So she lied to me?

- Or she didn't know?
- My sources are excellent.

- And you didn't hear it from me.
- Oh.


I got a question. How does someone...

uh, like you, end up, you know...?

Cloistered away from the world, heh?

- Are you making fun of me, Agent Allman?
- No. No, no. I, uh...

I guess I'm just wondering
how somebody quits...

one life for something
completely different...

and then believe in it so much.


in my case, I felt I had no choice.

My life had become painful.

There was hopelessness.

I felt I had to find something larger
than myself to focus on.

A kind of mission, I guess.

You have no idea what I'm talking about,
I'm sure.

Don't be.

Sister? A question.

I'm sure it's a different question.

Is there a cemetery nearby?

You could say that.

The entire church is built
over burial crypts.

Oh. And have you
ever heard

or felt anything
strange or unusual?

Unusual how?

Like spots in the building
that suddenly get cold.

Or maybe you feel
like you're not...

Not quite alone.

Rattling chains
and teacups that fly across the room?

Sister, are you making fun of me?

Really? The FBI believes in ghosts?

I'm afraid I don't.

If you'll excuse me, agents,
I have to get back to work.


Tell me you didn't think
that nun was hot.

I think she had a little
thing for me too.

Dean, she was married to Jesus.

All right, so Frank cheated on his wife, Lisa.
All right?

The whole theme of this case...

seems to be about guys
doing their women wrong.

- Notice that?
- Yeah.

But Lisa McCarthy was
pretty convincing that

she had no idea whatsoever
she killed her husband.

Hot nun said Lisa had no idea
he was cheating on her.

Maybe she was controlled
by someone who did.

Again, nothing witchy.

- Ghost?
- Hard to say.

There's EMF in the church,
but it's built on a burial ground.

You know all the victims recently
went to confession.

So you think Father
Delaney's involved?

Or maybe surrounding the confessional.

Sammy, how long has it been
since my last confession?

You've never been to confession.

Well, that's too long.

You summoned?

Royal Highness.

- Mother.
- Oh, he remembers.

- What can I do for you?
- It's what I can do for you.

I've been thinking just how wretched it
would be if my own raison d'étre...

wreaking havoc and pain on Earth,
were taken from me.

I see how stifled you must feel.
And I sympathize.

Does this mean that you'll go
to the Grand Coven on my behalf?

Even better.

I've brought the Coven to you.

I believe you know Olivette,
High Priestess of the Grand Coven.

Speechless with joy?

You utter bitch.

Bottom feeder.

Ah. The storm before the storm.

As you can see,
the iron chains render her powerless...

so you can plead your case,
exact your revenge.

Whatever it is that puts a spring
back in your step. You kids have fun now.

I see your time as outcast
has led you from vile to loathsome.

I doubt this strategy of insults
will get you out of this pickle.

Hmm. No. I do not
grovel before she

who lay with a non-magic
and hatched his spawn.

My personal life was none of your business.

I could've been your superstar.

Oh, please.

When we initiated your thankless ass
into the Coven...

we did overlook your private lapses
because of your talent.

We thought you'd outgrow
your reckless, selfish ways.

But, oh, no, they just grew out of control.

And now look at you.
Consorting with demons.

Quite the speech.

Considering you're in my son's palace.


You see, my son, the spawn you speak of...

is now the king of hell.

Total Cinderella story, I'd say.

Oh, aye.

And now you, dearest Olivette...

are prisoner of the baddest of the bad.

And his devoted Mommy.

It was the sadness in your eyes.

I saw myself there.

Was it Piero?

Is he the reason you're here?

There is not much difference
between madness and devotion.

I was obsessed with him.

We shared each other's secrets.

We were on the same road.

I suddenly realized how deeply
in love with Piero I had fallen.

He said it was only after I posed for him
that his work took on real power...

real expression.

The painting I had posed for
was the beginning of his career.

In the end, it was his masterpiece.


Sweet Jesus. Nothing in my love life
was ever so magical.

Magic can be ruinous.

Especially if the trick is on you.

I finally confessed my heart to Piero.

I felt we could read each other's thoughts.

But I said the words inside out loud.
"I love you."

I waited, dying inside.

And then...

he explained he had feelings for me...

but not of the same sort.

He loved another?


His art.

It was everything to him.

Insomuch that I affected it,
he cared for me.

But beyond that,
he could offer me nothing but friendship.

I fell into such despair.

I could not eat, nor sleep.

Until my family could stand no more.

And that's when you entered the convent.

It's as if I'd died.

My father sent me there
to escape my sorrow and forget Piero.

His servants dragged me from home
one night.

All these things from my father's estate...

I never saw them again after that night.

Everything that was mine was lost to me.

Except my journal.

Things I could say to no one.

Things no one wanted to hear.

- Loneliness is...
- Yes.

It is.

Really can't say I'm surprised.
You always were petulant.

And reckless. And overrated.

Banishment was too good for you.


You were always so envious of my skills.

You fool. The only threat
I ever posed to the Coven...

was that I was smarter,
more gifted than you.

- More blindly ambitious.
- Why not?

You nits were content
to live in the shadows...

dicking around with black cats
and broomsticks instead of greatness.


- What was that one for?
- Emphasis.

I will get what I want from you.

No, you won't.

Because what you are looking for
no longer exists.

The Coven is a pale relic of its past power.

Weakened by witch hunts,

burning at the stake.
Endless persecution

- And all of it was engineered by them.
- "Them"?

Oh, ha-ha-ha.

You're not as quick as I'd have thought.

All right.

It's a rabid group of
sanctimonious do-gooders.

Dedicated to our downfall.

- They had equal magic?
- Worse.

Public relations.

They whipped the church
and public into a panic.

Our best were killed
or driven underground.

They then plundered
our spells and secrets...

and shipped them to hidden bunkers
all around the world.

It appears you hate them
more than you do me.

They tried to destroy our world.

Hoarding unbelievable power
for their own amusement.

Smug, self-righteous bastards.

The Men of Letters.



Hi, Father.

Pardon me?

Pardon you?
I thought it was the other way around, heh.


Ahem. So I'm here to clean house.
Need to get some things off my chest.

On. All right.

- Continue.
- Um...

It's the women, Father.

Where do I begin, heh?

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned,"
is usual.

Right. Good. Yeah. So that, and...

So the women.
And this is not something I am proud of.

But I let them think
that we have more of a future than we do.

You know?

Ugh, Gina.


Don't get me wrong. I mean, she was...
It was good times.

You know how it is. The sex, the lasagna.
But I was not honest with her.

Sometimes I was seeing two,
maybe three girls at the same time.

Sometimes in the same day.
Heh. You get the picture.

And it wasn't just Gina. It was endless.

- It's making me sick.
- And you wish to be forgiven, my son?

I do. I need to clean up my act.

As penance, you shall say five "Hail Marys,"
two "Our Fathers"...

and reflect on your transgression.

And then that's it? Then I'm good to go?

One would hope
some inner exploration might occur.

The prayers are just the beginning
to some serious soul-searching.


Anything else on your mind,
Agent Allman?


What if I said...

I didn't wanna die?

- Yet. You know, that I wasn't ready.
- Are you expecting to?


The life I live, the work I do.

I pretty much just figured that
that was all there was to me, you know.

I tear around...

and jam the key in the ignition,
and haul ass until I ran out of gas.

I guess I just thought sooner or later
I'd go out the same way that I live.

Pedal to the metal, and that would be it.

But now?

Now, um...

some recent events...

made me think I might be closer to that
than I really thought.


I don't know.
I mean, you know, there's things...

there's people, feelings that I...

I wanna experience differently
than I had before.

Or maybe even for the first time.

Go a little deeper perhaps
than with Gina?


Yeah, I'm just starting to think...

that maybe there's more to it all
than I thought.

Learning there's more to the universe
than your tiny world...

can be a frightening discovery.

Do you truly believe in God, agent?

Because that can be a comfort.

I believe there is a God.

But I am not sure he still believes in us.


- Think you had an eavesdropper in there?
- Hope so.

Better watch your back. If we're right...

jerks like you
are just what our ghost is looking for.


Isabella? Are you here?


ISABELLA: I found no
peace in the convent,

and my sorrow
turned to rage.

What was once love for Piero
had become hatred.

One night I snuck out a window
and made my way to his studio.

I'm not sure why I went.
To confront him?

To ruin the painting and destroy his love
the way he destroyed mine?


There they were.




I never mentioned her to you
because it didn't occur to me...

she was connected with the murders.

Ever since I've been here,

I've come across restless spirits,
of all sorts.

They're all kind of...

sad. Harmless.

And eventually
the poor things go to their final rest.

Wait a second.

So you're just comfortable
around ghosts?

As a spiritual person,

I've accepted many
planes of existence.

And as I said, they've all been harmless.

Isabella was my friend.

We had a lot in common.


painful love lives.

I wanted to protect her.

You said she showed
up three weeks ago

when stuff from
her home arrived?

Yes. Part of a shipment
from a monastery in Tivoli.

Her family's treasures
found their way to the Church.

As with many of the great houses of Europe.

You get that she got here,

just before the murders
started happening.

I finally realized that.

And then I heard the two of you,
and it made me wonder.

That's when I read her journal.

It was given to her father
right after her death.

Vengeful spirit.
Just like we thought.

Yeah, but
16th-century Florence.

- She's probably buried in Florence.
- I assume.

The journal ended right after her trial.

Piero's death was so horrific...

she was convicted of witchcraft.

They sentenced her to burn at the stake.

If she burned, then so would her bones.

Yeah, but, Dean,
something here

is the tether that ties
her to this place.

It's probably the journal.
Where she wrote about her life.

Why don't we see if we
can't find Isabella

and try to slow her down?

- Sam, burn all this stuff.
- Her journal?

- Is that necessary?
- Believe me, it's necessary.

I don't know Dean.
There might be more in here.

Sam, burn it. Let's go.


I'm telling you, I don't know any more.

You're lying.

Just as you lied about
me all these years.

You're afraid I'll recover
all the stolen potions...

and spells and become
more powerful than you.

Oh, poor, poor Rowena.

Always the victim
of one conspiracy or another.

You're so consumed with
your rise to power,

you can't see the truth.

I see the truth,
and it's pathetic.

You let these
Men of Letters pillage

the greatest trove of magical
secrets in the world...

And did nothing.

We were awakened...

The plunder was dispersed
to bunkers all around the world.

Those bunkers are
powerfully warded.

There was nothing
we could do to stop them.

How do I find the Men of Letters?

I don't even know if they exist anymore.

I've heard that the American chapter
was extinguished in the 1950s.

But apparently two of its members survive.

The hunters. Sam and Dean Winchester.

The Winchesters.

Again with the Winchesters.

Perpetually the Winchesters.

Olivette, dear...

pleasant though this little chat has been,
I feel it's come to a close.

What you're telling
me is that the Coven

is no longer all-powerful,
and therefore...

that you are no longer useful.

You'd better be careful, Rowena.

There's a line that cannot be crossed.

Witch on witch murder is anathema...
to the community.

The community, heh?

Who needs them?

To think of all the years
I've lived in fear for nothing.

You ruined my life, Olivette.

And you shall pay with yours.

Rowena, please, you don't want to do this.


Please, Rowena, don't do this.

Rowena, please.

Please, stop.





I haven't thought this through.

Why should I kill you
and give you an easy way out...

when there are far better options?


No. No. No!

Rowena, please. No...


Oh. I'm a genius.

I don't see how she could
murder these people

if she was tethered
to the church.

She could possess a person
inside the church,

ride out, and get yanked
back after the kill.

And can ghosts be shot?

This is rock salt.
If we spot her, it'll slow her down.

ISABELLA: And as the days passed,
my love for Piero deepened...

as did his belief in my powers as his muse.

He said he wanted something from me...

something he could barely give voice to.

He thought the effect I had on his work
was profound.

He had never painted so well before.

He asked if he might have a bit of my blood
to mix into the pigment.

Piero was so afraid he would hurt me.

I told him, on the contrary,
it was my great joy to do this.


But it wasn't enough.


I told Piero to grind the flesh, blood,
and bone into the pigment.

I had completely become one
with the painting...

- and with Piero.
- "And with Piero."

She got to Father Delaney.
She's around here.

We gotta get you out of here.
Come on.




The priest had to die.
He made it his business to forgive you pigs.

Forgive you
when what you do is unforgivable.

Sam, burn the journal.



Sister. Don't let them. You are my friend.



You're... You're trucking.

Is that her?

Poetic justice, if you ask me.

For hundreds of years,
those hags made me grovel.

Every attempt to please them, futile.

High time someone else ran in circles, eh?

Nice touch.
Something I might have thought of myself.

You see? We're not so very different.

What is it that you want?

Ah. Well, Fergus, since you asked...

these friends of yours, the Winchesters...

I hear they are... What do you call it?

Men of Letters?


- I see. Well, about that...
- Listen, we've been through this.

My relationship with the Winchesters
is my business.

I'll handle them. I'm not killing them.

All right, dearie. Of course.

Whatever you say.

Who mixes their blood and bones
into paint?

No woman's ever done that for me.

Is this you thanking me
for not doing what you told me to do?

You know, if you'd have
burned the journal,

we wouldn't know how
to kill her, would we?

Heh. Yeah, you're welcome.


You know...

you were in that confessional a long time.

Look, man, I'm just saying...

I'm your brother, Dean.

If you ever need to talk about anything
with anybody...

you got somebody right here next to you.


I heard what Sister Mathias was saying
about, you know...

hiding pain by taking on a mission...

and I know that's what you're doing,
a little bit.

And it's okay. I mean, it's fine, I get it.
I've done it before too.

But I don't buy for one second
that the Mark is a terminal diagnosis.

So don't go making peace with that idea.

There has to be a way.
There will be a way, and we will find it.

That's what we do.

So believe that.

Okay, Sammy.

You wanna...

try that again like you mean it?