Supernatural (2005–…): Season 7, Episode 16 - Supernatural - full transcript

Sam and Dean stumble onto one part of the Leviathan's ultimate plot while tracking down some cursed objects in a small town.

Are you wondering how healthy the food you are eating is? Check it - foodval.com
---
These are cursed boxes.

They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right?
Kind of like the Pandora deal?

Yeah. They're built to contain
the power of the cursed object.

Sam, Frank's been working on the numbers
that Bobby spent his last breath on.

It's coordinates.

- To what?
- A field in Wisconsin.

Recently purchased by
Willman, Inc., a subsidiary of...

If you want to win, then you got to
be the shark. And a shark's got to eat.

Richard Roman Enterprises.
They're getting ready to build something.

- Build what?
- Exactly. What?

I'm a grade-a freak.
But I'm managing it.



Something's definitely different
now, isn't it? You let me in.

- Shut up.
- He said "shut up" to me.

So you think you can use your little
tricks to banish me again, like that?

No. I do believe I've got you, bunk buddy.

No Irina again.
Guess she's too famous for us.

No, she just "vants" to be alone.

- Irina. A little late for practice, no?
- Never too late.

Practice makes perfect,
if you have the talent.

~ Syncro: The Hellraiser ~
~ exklusiv f?r www.SubCentral.de ~

So, Dick's funding an archaeological dig?

Well, unless Dick's actually digging himself,
I'm not sure I know what to do with that, Frank.

Or the factory in Saudi Arabia, or the fishery
in Jakarta. None of this is helping, Frank.

Explain how Western to
Southeast Asia is too wide a net.

You know, I could be in Tromso right now.
Zero Leviathan activity in Tromso.



- Where the hell is Tromso?
- Norway, you moron.

By the way, they opened
another Biggerson in Butte.

Yeah, well, we're not in Montana.

Oh, you know where Butte is.
That's encouraging. So, where are you?

- We're in Oregon.
- No. I got nothing in Oregon.

Wisconsin, Frank.

- What about it?
- The coordinates. Bobby's coordinates.

Bobby...

Oh! Right. Yeah, no. I got nothing.
I got no activity.

- Well, work on it.
- Hey. When did you become the boss of me?

You don't like what I'm doing,
you can stick it right up your Montana.

All right, all right, all right.
Take it easy, Frank.

Oh, and another thing...

Frank? Hello?

- He's a crazy son of a bitch.
- Frank?

You know, having a cranky total
paranoid as your go-to guy, that's it's...

I don't know what it is.

What, are you going for, like, the
Guinness record of caffeine consumption?

That's like your fifth this morning.

Yeah, well, every time I close my eyes,
Lucifer is yelling into my head.

It's like I let him in once,
now I can't get rid of him.

- You know he's not actually...
- Yeah. Yeah, no. I know.

Try telling that to the
volume control inside my brain.

Well, did you try the hand thing?

Yeah. Anyway, long as
I'm awake, check it out.

They're saying drugs, but read between the lines.
Sounds like she danced her own feet off.

- Might be our kind of thing.
- Dancers.

They are toe shoes full of crazy.

- You... and you would know this how?
- I saw "Black Swan."

Twice.

Hot tutu-on-tutu action?
Come on, Sam. What's wrong with you?

Wow. The depths of your...

Anyway, it's in Portland, a couple
hours away. What do you think?

Yeah, dancers. Why not?

Maybe you'll get some sleep on the way.

Yeah, maybe.

So, the usual.
No EMF, no sulfur, no hex junk.

If there's no more dancers to interview
on this trip, it could be a bust.

Although I hear they have
good coffee in Portland.

Dude, that's Seattle.
Oh, let's just get the drill over with.

Hi.

Yeah?

We'd like to see the crime-scene photos
from the Irina Koganzon case, please.

And you would be?

- Give me a minute.
- Take your time.

No, you can't touch those, honey.
Those are for daddy's work.

Daddy, I have to go pee.

Sweetie, you know where the little girls' room is.

Yeah, I'd call that weird.

Hey, there. How you doing?

Okay. What can I do for you fellas?

Well, we need to see the shoes that
were involved in the ballet dancer's death.

Didn't figure that would be an FBI deal.

But sure.
Yeah, right here.

- Damn it, Tracy.
- Who's Tracy?

My daughter.

She loves ballet.

Hey, take those shoes off.

- Dean, get the shoes!
- I'm trying!

Sorry.

- Come on, Dean!
- I'm trying!

Sorry.

- I got it. I got it.
- Okay.

- I'm going with cursed object.
- You think?!

You okay?

Next stop...

"Out With The Old".

I suppose it's too much
to hope that these shoes...

are the only thing in that store
that we have to worry about.

Oh, what a dreamer you are.

Hey.

Didn't we put those in the trunk?

- How did they...
- Cursed object, Sam.

Do they look like they're your size?

Shut up.

Wait, are you...

Getting the strong urge to
Prince Siegfried myself into oblivion?

Yes.

You really did see "Black Swan."

Well, it was nice seeing you, Mr. Marshall.

Please call me if you have
any questions about the offer.

I'll let you know.

- I don't think he's gonna sell.
- Thinking is not your strong suit, George.

George?

The door.

Hello?

Hey, did you sell these?

- Yeah.
- Where did you get them?

My mother had them in that box.

I don't understand.
What's happening?

This, in here?

Hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey!
Geez!

You okay there, Baryshnikov?

Yeah. Yeah, I'm "pas de done."

Okay, if it's not too much trouble,
do you mind telling me, what's going on?

- What's your name?
- Scott. Scott Freeman.

Okay, then you said these were your mother's?
Where'd she get them?

- I don't know. I found them in the back.
- I got it.

- Now, where is your mother?
- Well, she's...

She passed away last week.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Scott, listen. These shoes...

Just some personal stuff she collected.
I'm trying to get rid of it all.

- All? Is there more like this?
- Sam.

Scott, what was in those boxes?

Okay, what the hell
kind of FBI guys are you?

The kind that are trying to fix
the mess you started.

Now where'd your mom get these?

I don't know.
I found them in her safe.

Did it ever occur to you that these things
might be locked in that safe for a reason?

No, I just thought it was some of the junk
that she had collected over the years.

Like, I knew she was into
some weird stuff,

- but I never thought that she would be...
- Yeah, well, think again, okay?

- 'Cause this "junk" is killing people.
- What? Like, how can that be?

Look, Scott. We're gonna need to know
exactly what you sold out of that safe...

and names and addresses
of who you sold it to.

- All right, what do we got?
- She bought a tea kettle.

- Tea kettle?
- Yeah.

Hey, with enough curse mojo, you can turn a
freaking pencil into a weapon of mass destruction.

Good times.

Better call this in.

Hello, yeah. I'd like to report an
accident at 23 Gorham Road.

My name?

Bruce Hornsby.

- All right. Who's next on the list?
- All right.

We got a gramophone sold to
Brenda Gluck, 413 River Street,

and a vintage gentlemen's magazine
sold to Peter Yankit, 27 Johnson Lane.

- Really?
- Yeah.

All right, we'd better split up. Why don't you
take the gramophone? I'll handle the old rag.

I wouldn't really "handle" it if I were you.

- Remember those shoes?
- Oh, yeah, how could I forget?

You know, I wonder how old porn kills you.

- Pretty sure you don't want to know.
- Yeah, you're probably right.

- All right. Let's do this.
- Yep.

I'm gonna run these upstairs.
I'll be right back.

Where's the gramophone?

Hey. That's mine.

Kid, this would be a really good
time for a lesson in gratitude.

Lucky for you, I'm too tired.

- Hey.
- Hey. Got the porn. Just in time, too.

- What was he doing?
- Like you said, you don't want to know.

- Where you at?
- I just got the gramophone.

I'm across town.
I'll head your way.

So my mom wasn't just some whack job.
All this stuff is real?

- Yep.
- Well, now I really feel like crap.

- How come?
- I kept pushing her to sell the store.

She kept saying no,
and I kept pushing her,

you know, telling her
how much money she'd make.

You think you changed her mind?

I don't know. You know, this real-estate
lady kept coming around,

and then one day,
just like that, mom says okay.

Then she had that accident,
never even got to enjoy the money.

How soon after?

- The next day.
- The n...

- How did she die?
- Car crash.

You know, I keep thinking,
if I hadn't pushed her, then...

Hey, a little tip.

Feeling guilty ain't gonna bring 'em back.

Best you can do is...

live your life the way that you
think would make her proud.

Or at least not embarrass the crap out of her.

You know the drill, right?

Don't touch anything in those boxes.
In fact, don't even go near the safe.

Once we get it all boxed up, we'll get
a U-Haul and get everything out of here.

Believe me, I got it.

You know, Mr. Marshall,
the block won't be the same.

Most of your neighbors have already sold.

Now, I've prepared
an analysis report for you.

George?

Not this one, George.
Mr. Marshall's.

Hard to find good help these days.

Anyway, as you can see,
our offer is more than generous.

- Seems that way.
- And with that generous offer,

you can pretty much go wherever
and do whatever you please.

You can get on with your life.

You know, Miss Bicklebee, I came here
tonight with every intention of selling.

But what you just said,
about getting on with my life...

that store is my life.

I can't sell.

Look, we all feel
attached to our past,

but it's the future that's the real adventure...

Sorry, not sellin'.

And I ain't buyin' that crap either, lady.

Well, if that's your decision,
what can I say?

I wish you the best of luck
with the rest of your life.

What little there is left of it.

See? As promised...

on the dotted line.

What?

Well, maybe you were
a little quick on the trigger?

First the woman at the antique shop, and now this.

I mean, you know that Mr. Roman
doesn't like us calling attention to ourselves.

So, what should I do with the body?

There. That's the attitude.

Okay. Take Mr. Marshall
and his stinky cigar home...

and put them in bed.

And, George?

Make sure the cigar is lit.

You know, burning hot.

There goes Mr. Marshall.
Should've quit smoking.

Can be hazardous to your health.

Do you know how many assistants I've
had since taking this body, George?

- Maybe three?
- Five.

I leave it to your imagination
what happened to the first four.

- Was something wrong with the brew?
- You tell me. What did I ask for?

A hot cup of coffee.

That's right.
Got the coffee part.

But did I say "hot",
or, I don't know, "tepid"?

Four, George.
Just saying.

So go to that nice barista on Main and get
me a Grande non-fat no-whip white mocha,

one pump sugar-free,
double-shot espresso, okay?

Sure.

- That's all the way across town.
- Okay.

- I won't be back till 9:00.
- See you at 8:45.

Hey, what's up?
I'm on my way.

Yeah, not sure we're taking
the safe out of town just yet.

- Here you go.
- Thanks.

So, it turns out that mama hoarder
didn't just die and leave the store to Scott.

- She didn't?
- No, listen to this.

The lady spends 40 years trying
to keep that place, right?

Then one day she wakes up and sells.
Next day, drives her car off a cliff.

So...

what, you think somebody cut
her brakes or something?

No, I think the world is
full of hilarious coincidences.

Oh, and there's this new company,
never even tasted, real estate,

just gobbled up a huge chunk of Main Street.
Now, I could be off the deep end here, but...

doesn't that seem weird to you?

Sam?

Sam?

Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Yeah,
sounds good. Keep me posted.

Sounds good?
Are you all right?

You know, they say that sleep deprivation
is an "enhanced interrogation technique"?

- Yeah.
- Trust me, it's torture.

Son of a bitch.

- This better be good.
- Frank,

hey, I don't mean to
double-dip in your crazy sauce.

- No offense.
- None taken, fudge pop.

But I think I found something.

My silence is your cue, Dean.

All right, so, there's this new company...

that's buying up a whole
bunch of mom-'n'- pops in Portland,

but I hit a firewall when
I tried to access its site.

- You think you can crack it?
- Can a dog play poker?

- I don't...
- The answer is yes.

- What's the company name?
- Geothrive, Inc.

Wait!

- I said one pump sugar-free, not two.
- Extra pump's on the house.

That's very nice, but my boss is gonna be able
to tell, okay, so please just make me a new one.

There's people in line,
and I'm here all alone, so...

enjoy the free pump.

How 'bout make me a new one?

How 'bout you eat me?

Don't tempt me.

- You're lucky I'm late.
- So lucky. Next.

Can I get a triple red-eye, please?

It's your funeral.

What are you talking about, George?

- Where's my coffee?
- I am seriously not kidding.

- And you're sure it's him?
- Of course I'm sure.

Sam Winchester is going into
that antique shop we just bought.

- You think they're here for us?
- No.

Trust me. If the Winchesters
were here for us, we'd know.

- I am going to enjoy this.
- Enjoy? Enjoy what, George?

Well, eating him is pretty much
what I was thinking.

What?! No!

- No?
- Come back to the office. Now.

We have a chain of command here, George.

You see a Winchester,
you don't eat him.

You tell me,
and I eat him.

What do you think, I'm gonna tell Dick,
"I think he ate him, but I didn't see it"?

What, I'm supposed to vouch for you, George?

Like you're not one dumb move away
from a bibbing already? Come on.

- But I...
- Oh, no!

- But...
- No!

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Two pumps.
Really, George?

Frank, tell me you got something.

No, I'm calling with the Lakers-Celtics score.

- What?
- 'Course I got something.

I figured out why you hit that firewall.

My silence is your cue, Frank.

Oh, touch?.

So, you were trying to access
the Geothrive internal site,

and the reason why you couldn't
is 'cause if you dig down deep,

it's all Dick.

Yeah, well, that'd be helpful
if you didn't say that about everything.

Yeah, except I'm operating
on hard fact now, wise-ass.

So you're tellin' me that
Geothrive is part of Roman, Inc.?

It's a conglomerate within a
subsidiary within a conglomerate.

It's all tied together, Dean.

Okay, so, what, Leviathans
are Walmart-ing mom-'n'- pops?

And bingo was his name-o.

So, we've got a big ol' field in Wisconsin...

and a bunch of friggin' shops in Portland?

- What the hell are they up to?
- Beats me.

All I know is it's corporate
and smelly as the day is long.

If I were you,
I'd get out of Dodge, pronto.

- People are dying here, Frank.
- Sure, every second.

Check the obesity stats.
That town ain't nothin' special.

Well, we're not done here, okay,
and, hey, we might get some answers.

Fine. Call me if you don't die.

- So?
- Well, that'll work.

How's it going?

I just got off the phone with Frank.

Apparently, we have a bit of
a Leviathan issue in this town.

- Leviathans, here?
- Yeah.

We're lookin' at a big, old
giant nesting doll of Dick,

as far as property sales go.

Hey, you hearing me?

Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I'm sorry.

Okay, you know what?
Enough with the insomnia crap.

All right, Pacino?
You need to crash.

I'll keep working. You find a motel
and get some sleep. Okay?

It doesn't matter what I do, Dean.

Lucifer will not shut up.

Even now?

He's singing "Stairway to Heaven" right now.

- Good song.
- Not 50 times in a row.

- Hey, Scott.
- Please, Sam. You got to help me.

- What's happening?
- I looked in one of my mom's old mirrors,

and now I want to rip my face off!
I think it was cursed.

All right, hold tight.
We're on our way.

Let me guess. He touched something
he was not supposed to.

'Course he did.

Was that okay?

Well, not exactly Oscar-worthy, but...

I was convinced.

Not that it matters,

because you don't have any more lines.

Now what?

Now we wait for meal service.

So...

one more body we're gonna
have to spirit away, huh?

Actually, no. As you so helpfully pointed out
earlier, Dick doesn't like making the papers.

Right, so what's the plan?

Well, we can't have Scott here running his mouth.

Loose lips, yada, yada, yada.

We will kill him.

But that doesn't mean anyone
ever has to notice he's dead.

Pack your bags, Georgie.

You are turning into
one Scott Freeman...

for the next...

30-some-odd years.

Right, Scotty?

- So much for the cursed mirror.
- Sam and Dean.

It is such a pleasure
to make your acquaintances.

Now, just so you can put names
to the faces that will be eating you,

I'm Joyce, and this is my assistant, George.

- Oh, you're the lady from the real-estate signs.
- Yes. You like my photo?

Oh, you might want to lay off
the whitening strips.

Oh, Dean.

I am gonna enjoy picking you out of my teeth.

There's a bucket of that stuff that you
love throwing at us right there.

Dunk me, before she sees.

The sword.

The sword!

Thanks.

Okay, I get that these things mean business,
you know, but I can't just, like, uproot my life.

Sure you can.

It's not as hard as you'd think.

Look, Scott. These big mouths
don't like to leave loose ends.

So don't you look back till you get someplace
where you don't speak the language.

All right. I'm going.

Thank you, I guess.

Don't mention it.

One minute.

That's how long you have to
explain to us why you helped us.

Because I am dying to know
what that bitch tastes like.

Wait, let me get this straight.
You want to eat your boss?

You got a better way
to make her stay dead?

So, what? So now
you're on our side or something?

Yeah. No.

But if Joyce is alive, then I spend the
rest of my life cleaning her messes.

Or worse, I get eaten.

Or bibbed.

So, thanks for chopping her head off for me.

Taking her on solo... yikes.
So, really, thanks for the assist there.

And, of course,
you're welcome...

for saving you...

before she ripped into your ass
like a Christmas present.

Win-win, right? So...

how 'bout that head?

Yeah, not gonna happen, Georgie.

Now,

what the hell is Dick Roman
building in Wisconsin?

I don't know. I barely know where Wisconsin is.
I'm a West-Coast representative.

You gonna keep killing people
who don't sign on the dotted line?

All right, take it easy.

Killing people isn't part of the agenda.

Joyce just kept getting impatient.
You got nothing to worry about with me.

Don't you get it? You guys are
freaking out about the wrong thing.

- Oh, you think?
- A couple of real-estate deals?

Come on. Big picture, guys.
You think it's just here?

It's everywhere.

And it's a lot more ambitious
than this little project.

My advice... keep your heads
down and stay down.

Listen to me, you gooey son of a bitch.

You're gonna tell us what you're building here,
or I'm gonna wash your mouth out with soap.

Well, I was hoping
we could play nice.

But if you must know...

- it's going to be a research center.
- Research for what?

Disease.

This, gentlemen, is where
we are going to cure cancer.

Wait. That doesn't make any sense.

I mean, why would Dick Roman
want to cure cancer?

'Cause we're only here to help.

Monsters cure cancer.
A sentence I never thought I'd say.

Why does it make me so nervous?

Yeah, I hear you.
So, what do we do now?

You are gonna sleep on it...
all the way to Frank's.

- Capiche?
- I wish I could.

Did you get any sleep last night?

Yeah. Yeah. A little.
I don't know.

Well, we'll find you a soft-rock station.
Always knocks you right out.

Hey, Frank!

Deveraux!

What the hell is he doing in there?

Frank!

Don't shoot!
We're coming in!

Not good.

~ Syncro: The Hellraiser ~
~ exklusiv f?r www.SubCentral.de ~