Supernatural (2005–…): Season 12, Episode 21 - Supernatural - full transcript

Sam and Dean are alarmed when they learn hunters are being killed by suspicious "accidents" all over the country. They decide it is best to find Mary and make sure she's safe. Meanwhile, ...

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These Hunters
are out of control,

the brothers Winchester
in particular,

which Lady Bevell has
exhaustively documented.

The grand experiment
of recruiting American Hunters

has failed.

What would you like me to do?
Exterminate them,

every...last...one.

This is not a baby.
This is the spawn of Lucifer.

Cass? No!

And I know now
that this child must be born

with all of his power.



Dr. Hess
wants to know everything

about the Winchesters.

Sorry I couldn't pick up before.
I've been on a hunt with Ketch.

Dean? We've got a problem.

What are you doing here?

It's the end
for the American Hunters.

But I can keep you safe,

if you play nice.

I don't play nice.

Aah!

Aah!

Good puppy.



♪ Supernatural 12x21 ♪
There's Something About Mary
Original Air Date



== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

Mom?

Mom.

Well, looks like she hasn't
been here for a while.

Yeah. All her stuff is gone.

Did she say
she was moving on or...

No, I told you what she said.

She said, “Dean, call me.
We have a problem.”

And then that was it.
She didn't sound happy.

Okay, well,
when she's not here,

she's been bunking
with the Brits. So maybe --

Well, dude, I've called Mick,
like, six times.

He's been radio silent
since they sent him to London.

Ketch, calling to see
if my Mom's with you.

It's Dean.

Winchester.

Because I'd like to speak
to her, that's why.

No, I'm not being terse.

Look, if you haven't seen her,
do you know where she is?

No, I'm not being curt either.

Look, I don't have time
for Manners 101 from you, okay?

If she's with you,
I wanna know about it.

Fine.

Such a dick.

And?

He says he hasn't seen Mom
in over a week.

But Mom called two days ago,

said she was working a case
with him.

Which means he's lying.

But why would he --

Jody.

Jody, hey. No, what?

No. Uh...

No, we hadn't heard.
Mom?

Um, when?
What the hell happened?

Oh, no. No, I-I...

Yeah, thanks
for letting me know.

Bye.

Who?

Eileen.

How?
She was, uh,

mauled by a wild animal
in a wooded area

that doesn't have animals
that do that, in South Carolina.

But I thought she was
in Ireland.



Sam...

Dean, that's
the second Hunter death

we've heard about
in two weeks.

I know. But two
doesn't mean a pattern.

Three would.

Meaning?

Mom's a Hunter,

and no one knows
where she is.

People who do what we do,

you know there are gonna
be deaths, but...

This...

These wounds --
I mean, we've only seen

something this bad
a few times.

Hellhound?

Yeah. But it doesn't make
any sense.

Why would a -- why would a demon
sic a hellhound on her?

Why did she leave Ireland?
I don't know, Dean.

All right, well,
counting Eileen,

that makes seven Hunters
in three weeks.

Yeah, and those are the ones
we know about.

Seven monster-related deaths.

I mean, what,
did all the things out there

suddenly start
working together?

Dean, monsters and demons
don't team up.

Seven Hunters are gone.

We can't grab a signal
from Mom's phone.

Cass has Kelly Kline
who knows where.

Mick has slipped off the grid.
Ketch is lying to us.

I-I...

I wanna punch something
in the face.

Good.

Hold on to that,

'cause it looks like we got
a hellhound to deal with.

Which means...

How many times do I have
to repeat myself?

Find me Kelly Kline!

As a concept,
it's ridiculously simple,

as are you!

Please don't yell.
I'm trying.

“I'm trying.”
Well, try harder!

As if your almost-life
depended on it.

Yes, my King.

Bear down. What do you know?

We know Dagon is dead
and can't protect Kelly.

Which makes your task
even easier.

We know Lucifer's son
is almost due.

Which makes your task
more crucial.

We know we don't know
how powerful he'll be when born.

Which makes you an idiot.

I know that, too.

Apparently, you
and the legion of demons

that I've assigned
to this task

haven't been
motivated properly.

- Follow me.
- You going to skin me alive, Sire?

Would it be that simple.

I have to remind you
and your team of screwups

of the pride
of superior work,

the thrill of pleasing me,

and the gratification of living
one more day.

Hello, Rick.

Mary.

No, please come in.
Have a seat.

Thanks.

So you have my address,

but not my phone number?
Spur of the moment.

Someone dropped a dime
on a vamp nest near here.

You got anything?
No, news to me.

You want in?

Yeah. Yeah, sure.

Great.

How ya been?

Well, uh...

taking plenty of heat
from the Brit Dicks

to join
the tea and crumpet squad.

Mm.

Yeah, they do not want
to take “no” for an answer.

Really?
Yeah.

Want a beer?
Sure.

Yeah.

I mean, screw them,
right?

What do they think,
after all these years...



How are we doing today?

Oh, Mary.

Those eye bags again.

Did something happen
last night?

Could you be more specific?

Was I out of this building?

Well, you would know that
better than I.

Unless
you're having trouble

distinguishing fact
from fiction.

So what's going on, Mary?

I'm fine.

Are you?



You're brainwashing me?

You're being...realigned.

Soon, you won't differentiate
between your thinking and ours.

All of your thoughts and actions
will come from us.

What are you talking about?

Well, not about this illusion
of you that you hold on to.

The perfect life.

Loving husband and kids.

But it never really
was perfect, was it?

All those secrets you kept
from your beloved John --

that you were a Hunter.

That you invited Azazel to visit
when he spared John's life.

How do you --
I have sources, Mary.

Everywhere.

After you died,
your beloved John

was a man slowly going mad,
searching for revenge.

What?
Your boys didn't tell you?

The drunken rages?
The weeks of abandonment?

Child abuse, really.

It's no wonder they're...
damaged.

So...

enough with the fairy tale.

We are returning you to a more
pure version of yourself --

Mary Campbell,
natural born killer.

No.

The American Hunters haven't
fallen into line as we'd hoped,

so they're being eliminated,

repealed and replaced
by our people,

and you, Mary,

you play a key role in that.

I won't.

Or...

maybe you already have.

Interesting choice.

Soon you won't be
making any.



Good afternoon.

Dr. Hess.

Stunningly beautiful as ever.

Crowley.

Revoltingly unctuous
as always.

Let's cut to it.

You have your people
slaughtering

the American Hunters,

which, naturally, I applaud.

You know about that?

I provided Arthur Ketch
with a hellhound.

I didn't think he was
looking for a pet.

Obviously, your organization is
looking to put down roots.

I just want to make doubly sure
that you and I have

the same arrangement
in the States

that we do in the U.K.

I don't see why not.

No point being at war.
No sides lose.

If your demons limit
their involvement

to humans idiotic enough
to sell their souls...

Done.
And share information?

As needed?

I assume finding that
infernal nephilim

is a top priority.

Since it could kill you, me,
and the entire universe,

probably.
I am a team player.

My demons are scouring
the country as I speak.

Did you notice
my sigh of relief?

Oh, right.

There wasn't one.

Crowley, one more thing.

What?

Your relationship with
the Winchesters.

It's a bit cozy
for my taste.

I hope you don't expect me
to spare your friends.



That completes
my examination.

Okay, Drexel, as much as I enjoy
playing doctor with you

day after day, I need
to blow this joint now.

I beg you to be patient.

Until I get
the security device shut off,

you completely belong
to Crowley.

Okay, if it's at minimum power,
and I'm at maximum power,

I'll roll the dice, man.

I'm telling you,
I don't know anything about it.

The name Eileen Leahy means
nothing to me.

Crowley, only a demon can
control a hellhound,

which means that one of
your people was involved.

If that were the case,
I would know about it.

There are no missing
hellhounds.

I was cuddling with them
just last night.

Right. And you know
nothing else of

the other Hunters
who are dying?

Not only don't I know,
I don't care.

Never thought of you
as a cuddler, Crowley.

Tell me more.

More?

I've been giving thought
to your future.

As my slave,
you could be useful as a weapon,

laying waste to my enemies,

starting with
a certain British bitch

who's far too comfortable
giving me ultimatums.

Are you done?

No.

If you do have any information
as to the whereabouts

of Kelly Kline and the spawn
of your loins...

Ooh.

...you may want to give
that information to me.

And why, oh, why would I do
a thing like that?

Because turns out
that Kelly's been chumming it

with an old friend of yours.

Dagon.
So?

So...Dagon dead.

Kelly's now in the clutches

of the Winchesters' love slave,
Castiel,

who's no doubt dragging her
to a gruesome death.

Mm. As opposed to the fun-packed
death you have planned.

My plan may just be to save
your son's life,

raise him as my own,

give him the chance to use
his power in my service.

I may be the only hope you have
of seeing him alive.

Hmm.

Interesting.

Pass.

Mm.

Think about it. Tick-tock.

I need to get out
of here now.



We just completed
another session.

She's coming along nicely.

I know you wanted me
to accelerate her progress, Dr. Hess.

I believe I've achieved that.

That is why you brought me in.

I'm sorry,
were you expecting

a pat on the head,
Your Highness?

Oh, no. I would never expect
civility from you.

Psychopath.

You two are
such fun together.

Of course, she may be
reporting to you.

I'm not really
an administrator.

You kill without mercy.

You'll be fine.

I mean, here you are,

watching this woman suffer.

And only days ago,
you were sleeping with her.

Of course I knew.



Once the U.S. Hunters
are gone,

I'm seriously considering
putting you in charge.

You're too kind.

Of course,

Lady Bevell is also
desperate for the job.

Oh, that's right.

You slept with her
as well.



Yeah. Yeah, no,
I appreciate it.

Thanks.

So I've been calling around

about all of the Hunters
that died.

Um, every one of them had
years of experience.

We got a letter from Eileen.

Eileen?

She sent it four days ago.

It went snail mail
'cause she thought

that her phone and her computer
were both hacked.

She left Ireland
because she was scared.

Scared of what?

Well, after she accidentally
killed that --

that Brit douche Renny,

she thought that the British
Men of Letters were on her.

“I know they're following me,
watching me.

“They tapped my phone.

I found a microphone
in my room.”

“I hate to be all girly,
but I could bunk with you guys

for a days
until I sort this out”"

You think the Brits were
watching her?

If Eileen says they were --

Then maybe they're the ones
that killed her.



Ugh.

♪♪



Those Hunters
you were talking to,

is one of them Terry Marsh?

Yeah, Terry Marsh in Missouri.
I talked to him.

He, uh, he's also thinking

it's not monsters
doing the real killing.

Okay, well,
I got a text from him.

He's been nosing around,

says he's got a fair idea
of what's going on.

And?

He doesn't feel safe
talking about it on the phone.

He wants to meet.

The old iron works off
the interstate.

Tomorrow night at 9:00.

He says park off the road
by the warehouse.

All right.

The timing of your escape
is crucial, my Lord.

If the device
isn't sufficiently impaired,

the King's hold on you
will only increase.

And, of course, I'll be --

Let me perfectly clear, okay?

My only son is in jeopardy,
and I'm running out of patience.

Check it again.

This...this can't be.

Do not tell me
it's powering up.

It's powering up --
I asked you not to tell me that.

But in the opposite direction.

This is amazing.

What?
The device,

it's cemented
directly into your DNA

and that of the King's.

As it's powering down
in you,

the polarity
is somehow reversing.

English, Drexel.

The ability to control

is transferring

from Crowley to you.

So you're saying

that Crowley's gonna be
my puppet.

Good dog.

You sat for Lady Bevell.

How can you even tell?

Am I gonna say “bad dog”?
He can be unpleasant.

Dr. Hess says
that you have designs

on Mick Davies' job.

Did she?

She assured me it was mine
to turn down.

Fascinating.

She told me the same thing.



Well...

Pitted against each other,
like our days at Kendricks.

I always did rather well
in those situations.

You slaughtered
the competition.

Sometimes literally.

And yet, I never
slaughtered you, Ketch.

Well, we were having
a lot of sex at the time.

Hmm.

I've been studying
the American Situation

and how to fix it for years.

So this? Is mine.

Trust me.

The cream always rises
to the top.

Oh, I agree.

Mr. Ketch?

The prisoner is asking for you.

Hmm.

Arrogant bastard.

Lady Bevell, I have news.

I didn't think you'd come.



I'm losing my mind, Ketch.

I actually don't know
if this...is real.

What do they want me to do?

Exactly what
you're doing, Mary,

and you're doing it
splendidly.

I killed somebody.

He was a-a friend.

I do it all the time.

I believed in what
you people were doing.

I fought with you so that
my boys could maybe

live in a world
without monsters.

How can you just --

I'm not sure
what you're expecting.

That I'll intervene?

We made it clear to each other,
we don't have a relationship.

We worked together.

We...

We know each other.

I don't know you, Mary.
Not really.

You certainly don't know me.

You...wouldn't want to.

I need your help.

Please.

Mary...

No.

Ow!

Ah!

Then you do it!

Kill me.

All my life,
all I ever had,

other than my family,

was my will.

And it's going away.

I'm --
I'm putting people in danger.

I'm putting my sons
in danger.

You...have to...please.

For God's sake, kill me.

Mary.
Just do it!

Mary, listen to me.

It won't be long now.

This will all be over.

I promise.

No.
I promise.

No.







You keep that up,

we're gonna have to start
dating.



Before long, of course,
I will get rid of you.

But I will miss
our little chats.

Hmm, you mean the ones
where you prattle on

about your imagined power,
and I prepare to care?

Those chats?

How is Lucifer Jr.?

Dead yet?

Hmm...no.

Still alive and kickin'.
Strong.

Kid's a bruiser.
Sort of proud.

Well, before you book
a Daddy and Me class,

I must assure you there is
no heir to your throne.

The Winchesters wouldn't
mess up a second time.

I don't know about that.
Seems to be sort of their thing.

I mean, they thought they would
stuff me back in the Cage again.

And yet, due to my cunning,
here you sit,

a virtual slave to my will.

And the hubris --
you and your pseudo son?

I mean, it's delusional.

Despite your...

epic collapse,

you persist in the fantasy
that you will best me.

Your bluster is no match
for my masterful strategies.

And in the end,

you have to concede
that I have...

What's going on?

“Master strategist”.

More like Kermit the Frog.

Oh, my little Muppet!

Crowley, what will I do
without you?



Why you spying on us?

Oh, and what do you know
about Eileen Leahy?

Who?
Did you -- did --

did your people,
did they kill her?

Probably.

Rule of thumb --
if you think we killed someone,

then we probably did.

Speaking of, you do realize
that by attacking me,

you invite the retribution
of the entire

British Men of Letters?

No investigation, no trial.
Just punishment and ruin.

Possibly at the hands
of Mary Winchester.

The hell is that supposed
to mean?

Your mother --
she's our permanent guest.

She's your prisoner? Why?

Prisoner? Who said anything
about prisoner?

No, Mary's joined the team.

Even has her own
super secret decoder ring.

You're lying.

You're right. There is no ring.

Oh, boys and their mums.

See, you see her as Mummy.

We see her as
one of our best killers.

You know, just 'cause
she works with Ketch

doesn't mean she likes him.

Or you.

Oh, that Oedipal myopia again.

And did you really think she was
just “working” with Ketch?

All of those days and nights?

That's enough.

He said it was some of
the best sex he'd ever had.

You wanna rethink that?

Fine.

He said it was the best sex
he'd ever had.

Dean, Dean.
Ah!

- All right.
- Keep it up.

What about Mick?
Where is he in all of this?

Mick?
Yes, Mick.

Oh, Mick's dead.

He's dead?

Quite.

It was determined he was
too sentimental for the job.

Turns out, he was too much
like you two

and all the other U.S. Hunters.

Ergo, soon each and every Hunter
in this country will join him.

Jody Mills,

Claire Novak,

all of your other
flannel-wearing,

whiskey-swilling friends.

They're dead.

Ooh!

Yeah, that feels awesome.

Oh! Muscle cramps.

You know
a good Pilates class?

So to be clear,

I accept that you are
now in charge.

I-I like this new
arrangement better.

You're more
the big picture guy.

I'm the day-to-day
minutiae...guy.

Aah!

8 ball, corner pocket.

Aah!

Well, I could do this all day,
but since I'm King,

et cetera, et cetera.

I'll wrap it up.







Oh, you had to know
this was inevitable.

This is gonna hurt.



Hmm.

Clean up on aisle 7.

So we're clear?

You call Ketch, tell him
if he wants to see you alive,

he gets his prissy ass
over here.

Interestingly, his prissy ass
is already here.

Lady Bevell, would you mind
disarming them?



Get up.
All right, Ketch,

how many more guys are in here?

Our mom -- Where is she?!

Don't move.

Ah, speak of the devil.

Perfect timing, Mom.

Just stay where you are.

Hey! You heard her.

I was talkin' to you.

Mom?

Hey! Ketch, stop.

I really wouldn't move.
She will shoot you.

Mummy always was
a talented Hunter.

Just somewhat...confused
about obeying orders.

What did you do to her?

Lady Bevell cleared up
that...confusion.

And I suspect she told you that
the American Hunters

are a dying breed.

Hmm.

Oh. For heaven's sake, where do
you think you're going?

Ketch.
Remember at Kendricks,

how they taught us
that we were all expendable?

That wasn't idle chat.

Mom?

Look at me.

It's us. Please.

What's wrong with you? Mom!

Your bunker is
an excellent fortress.

An even better tomb.

So we've rejiggered the locks,
we've shut off the water,

and once we leave, the pumps
that bring in the air

shall reverse.

Your oxygen
should be gone in...

two days, maybe three.

You dying in here,

it's almost...

poetic, hmm?



Come along, Mary.

Ketch!

No!

He wants this done before
he returns.

What are we supposed to do
with...that?

Toss it.



I do have to hand it
to Lady Bevell.

Your treatment's been
most successful so far.

And so you know,
this will become...easier.

Easier...

to hurt people I love?

Easier to hurt people
you don't remember loving.

How do you feel?

Fine.

I'm fine.





My son.



== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man