1x14
2006.10.25. 17:02
TRANSCRIPT: ==========================
(FADE IN: Street. A man is parking his car in his garage. He turns off the gas and starts gathering some things in the car. All of a sudden, the garage door closes on its own. The car doors lock themselves. The key turns in the ignition and the car roars into life. The man watches, confused, as the garage and the car begin to fill with carbon monoxide. He starts coughing while trying to unlock the doors, which do not open. The man shakes the keys out of the ignition, but the car does not turn off. Panicking, he uses his jacket to cover the vents in the car, but the carbon monoxide continues to fill up the vehicle.) MAN: Help! Somebody, help me! Somebody, help! (He continues to pound on the doors and windows. Soon, he collapses on his seat, dead. There is a blinding flash of white light, and the scene cuts to a motel bedroom. SAM bursts awake. He sits up in his bed, sweating.) SAM: Dean. (SAM shakes DEAN awake.) Dean. (DEAN groans. SAM gets out of bed and starts moving quickly around the room.) DEAN: What are you doing, man? It’s the middle of the night. SAM: We have to go. (He packs some items in a duffle bag and closes it.) DEAN: (sleepily) What’s happening? SAM: We have to go. Right now. (CUT TO: INT. – Car. DEAN is speeding down the road, while SAM talks on the phone.) SAM: (reading from a piece of paper) McCreedy. Detective McCreedy, badge number 15A. And I’ve got a signal 480 in progress. I need the registered owner of a two-door Sedan, Michigan license plate, Mary, Frank, 6037. (…) Yeah, okay, just hurry. DEAN: Sammy, relax. I’m sure it’s just a nightmare. SAM: Yeah, tell me about it. DEAN: No, I mean it. You know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class nightmare. This license plate, it won’t check out, you’ll see. SAM: It felt different, Dean. Real. Like when I dreamt about our old house and Jessica. DEAN: Well, yeah, that makes sense. You’re dreamin’ about our house, your girlfriend. This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before? SAM: No. DEAN: No, exactly. Why would you have premonitions about some random dude in Michigan? SAM: I don’t know. DEAN: Me neither. SAM: (on phone) Yes, I’m here. (…) Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address? (…) Got it. Thanks. (He writes down the information and hangs up, looking stunned.) Checks out. How far are we? DEAN: From Saginaw? SAM: Yeah. DEAN: Couple hours. SAM: Drive faster. (DEAN steps on the gas and they speed away.) (CUT TO: EXT. – Jim Miller’s house. Police cars and ambulances are surrounding the area. Paramedics are putting Jim’s body in a body bag, while police officers talk to Jim’s family. DEAN and SAM pull up and observe the scene, looking disappointed. They exchange a look. The screen goes black.) (FADE IN: EXT. – Miller house. DEAN and SAM are walking around, observing.) DEAN: (to nearby woman) What happened? WOMAN: Suicide. I can’t believe it. SAM: Did you know him? WOMAN: I saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine’s. He always seems—seemed so normal. I guess you never know what’s going on behind closed doors. DEAN: Yeah, I guess not. SAM: How did—how are they saying it happened? WOMAN: I heard they found him in the garage. Locked inside his car with the engine running. (DEAN and SAM exchange a look.) SAM: Do you know about what time they found him? WOMAN: Oh, it just happened about an hour or two ago. Oh, his poor family. I can’t even imagine what they’re going through. (The camera pans to the front steps of the house, where a woman, who is presumably Jim’s wife, is sobbing. SAM looks very upset and walks away. DEAN follows him to the car.) DEAN: Sam, we got here as fast as we could. SAM: Not fast enough. It just doesn’t make any sense, man. Why would I even have these premonitions, unless there was a chance that I could stop them from happening? DEAN: I don’t know. (SAM sighs deeply.) SAM: So, what do you think killed him? DEAN: Maybe the guy just killed himself. You know, maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on at all. SAM: I’m telling you, I watched it happen. He was murdered by something, Dean. It trapped him in the garage. DEAN: Well, what? A spirit, a poltergeist, what? SAM: I don’t know what it was. I don’t know why I’m having these dreams, I don’t know what the hell is happening, Dean. (DEAN stares at him.) What? DEAN: Nothing, man, I’m just worried about you. SAM: Well, don’t look at me like that. DEAN: I’m not lookin’ at you like anything. Though I gotta say, you look like crap. SAM: Nice. Thanks. DEAN: Yeah, well—Come on, let’s just pick this up in the morning. We’ll check out the house, we’ll talk to the family. SAM: Dean, you saw them, they’re devastated. They’re not gonna wanna talk to us. DEAN: Yeah, you’re right. But I think I know who they will talk to. SAM: Who? (DEAN smirks at him.) (CUT TO: EXT. – Miller house. Day. DEAN rings the doorbell. Although the camera does not show DEAN and SAM’s bodies, SAM’s hair is combed and gelled back neatly.) SAM: This has got to be a whole new low for us. (DEAN smiles. Jim’s brother, ROGER, opens the door. The camera shows the brothers’ bodies, and they are wearing ministers’ outfits.) DEAN: Good afternoon. I’m Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley. We’re new junior priests over at St. Augustine’s. May we come in? (ROGER nods, and they come in.) Thanks. SAM: We’re very sorry for your loss. (ROGER closes the door.) (CUT TO: INT. – House.) DEAN: It’s in difficult times like these when the Lord’s guidance is most needed. ROGER: Look, if you wanna pitch your whole Lord-has-a-plan thing, fine. But don’t pitch it to me. My brother is dead. (Jim’s wife comes into the hallway and overhears them.) MS. MILLER: Roger, please.
ROGER: (to SAM and DEAN) Excuse me. (He leaves.) MS. MILLER: I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He’s just so upset about Jim’s death. Would you like some coffee? DEAN: That’d be great. (CUT TO: Living room. SAM and DEAN are sitting on the couch. MS. MILLER hands them two cups of coffee.) MS. MILLER: It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now. DEAN: Of course. After all, we are all God’s children. (SAM looks at him strangely, and MS. MILLER walks away. When she is gone, DEAN takes a mini hot dog from a platter and eats it. SAM scoffs.) What? SAM: Just tone it down a little bit, Father. (MS. MILLER returns and sits down next to DEAN.) DEAN: (with his mouth full) So, Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression? MS. MILLER: Nothing like that. We had our ups and downs, like everyone. But we were happy. (She starts to cry.) I just don’t understand how Jim could do something like that. SAM: I’m so sorry you had to find him like that. MS. MILLER: Actually, our son, Max—he was the one who found him. (She points to a teenage boy sitting alone in the corner of another room.) SAM: Do you mind if maybe I go talk to him? MS. MILLER: Oh, thank you, Father. (SAM smiles and nods, then walks over to MAX in the dining room.) SAM: Max? Hey, I’m Sam. (CUT TO: Living room. DEAN hands MS. MILLER a tissue.) DEAN: Ms. Miller, you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here? MS. MILLER: We moved in about five years ago. DEAN: Hm. You know, the only problem with these old houses—I bet you have all kinds of headaches. MS. MILLER: Like what? DEAN: Well, weird leaks. Electrical shortages. Odd settling noises at night, that kind of thing. MS. MILLER: No, nothing like that. It’s been perfect. (She smiles.) DEAN: Hm. (He pauses.) May I use your restroom? MS. MILLER: Oh, sure. It’s just up the stairs. DEAN: Okay. (He takes another hot dog, puts it in his mouth, and heads toward the stairs.) (CUT TO: Dining room. SAM is talking with MAX.) SAM: So, what was your dad like? MAX: (sadly) Just a normal dad. SAM: Yeah? And you live at home now? MAX: Yeah. I’m tryin’ to save up for school, but it’s hard. (They pause.) SAM: (hesitantly) So, when you found your dad…. MAX: I woke up. I heard the engine running. I don’t know why he did it. SAM: I know it’s rough. Losing a parent. Especially when you don’t have all the answers. (MAX says nothing.) (CUT TO: Upstairs. DEAN looks around to make sure no one is there. From his jacket, he removes an infrared thermal scanner and turns it on. He looks through every room on the top floor but sees nothing unusual. He hears someone coming up the stairs and quickly puts the scanner away. SAM comes upstairs.) SAM: Anything? (DEAN shakes his head.) DEAN: Zip. (They go back downstairs.) (CUT TO: Motel Room. DEAN is sitting on the bed, cleaning all of his weapons.) DEAN: So, what do you have? SAM: A whole lot of nothing. Nothing bad has happened to the Miller house since it was built. DEAN: What about the land? SAM: No graveyards, battlefields, tribal lands, or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property. DEAN: Hey, man, I told you I searched that house up and down. There were no cold spots, no sulfur scent, nada. SAM: And the family said everything was normal? DEAN: Well, I mean, if there was a demon or a poltergeist in there, don’t you think somebody would’ve noticed something? I used the infrared thermal scanner, man, there was nothing. SAM: So, what, you think Jim Miller killed himself? And my dream was just some sort of freakish coincidence? DEAN: I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure that there’s nothing supernatural about that house. SAM: Yeah. (He grimaces and starts massaging his temples.) Well, you know, maybe, uh—maybe it has nothing to do with the house. Maybe, it’s just, uh—gosh—maybe it’s connected to Jim in some other way. (He clutches his head in pain.) DEAN: (concerned) What’s wrong with you? (SAM inhales sharply and falls to his knees on the floor.) SAM: Yeah—my head! (He screams in pain. DEAN rushes over to him and grabs him by the shoulders.) DEAN: Sam? Hey. Hey! What’s goin’ on? Talk to me. (SAM looks at DEAN, horrified. There is another flash of white light, and the scene cuts to ROGER MILLER’s kitchen. ROGER enters the kitchen with a bag of groceries and sets it on the counter. He opens a beer and drinks from it, with his back turned away from the door. A dark figure walks past the camera. Inside the kitchen, the window on the opposite wall opens. ROGER feels the draft and turns around. He closes the window and locks it. He turns back to the bag of groceries. While putting them away, the window unlocks itself and opens again. ROGER, confused, walks back to it and tries to shut it, but it does not budge. He sticks his head out the window and looks up. Suddenly, the window slams shut on top of ROGER’s head, and there is a large amount of blood spattered on the glass. The scene cuts back to the motel, where SAM is panting and sweating, looking terrified.) SAM: (panicked) It’s happening again. Something’s gonna kill Roger Miller. (The screen goes black.) (FADE IN: INT. – Car. SAM and DEAN are driving.) SAM: (on phone) Roger Miller. (…) No, no, just the address, please. (…) Okay. Thanks. (He hangs up.) 450 West Grove, Apartment 1120. (DEAN nods.) DEAN: You okay? SAM: Yeah. DEAN: If you’re gonna hurl, I’ll pull the car over, you know, ‘cause the upholstery— SAM: I’m fine. DEAN: Alright. SAM: Just drive. DEAN: Alright. (SAM sighs.) SAM: Dean, I’m scared, man. These nightmares weren’t bad enough, now I’m seein’ things when I’m awake? And these visions, or whatever, they’re getting more intense. And painful. DEAN: Come on, man, it’ll be alright. You’ll be fine. SAM: What is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them? Why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me? DEAN: I don’t know, Sam, but we’ll figure it out, okay? We face the unexplainable every single day, this is just another thing. SAM: No. It’s never been us. It’s never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out. (DEAN pauses.) DEAN: This doesn’t freak me out. (CUT TO: EXT. – ROGER’s apartment. ROGER is walking down the street with a bag of groceries. DEAN and SAM pull up beside him.) SAM: Hey, Roger! DEAN: Hey, hold up a second. ROGER: (annoyed) What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone. SAM: Please! (They pull over to the side of the road, stop the car, and get out. They run towards the apartment building, where ROGER is entering.) Hey, Roger, we’re tryin’ to help! Please! Hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! (ROGER shuts the front door and locks it.) ROGER: (through the glass) I don’t want your help. (He walks away.) SAM: We’re not priests! You’ve gotta listen to us! DEAN: Roger, you’re in danger! (ROGER does not come back. SAM and DEAN look around.) Come on! Come on, come on! (They leave.) (CUT TO: Alley. DEAN and SAM run to the side of the building, which is blocked by a gate. DEAN kicks it down, and they run down the narrow alley. They reach the fire escape and begin climbing the countless flights of stairs. A minute later, they hear a crashing noise. They climb one more flight and reach ROGER’s window, which is covered with blood. DEAN and SAM are in disbelief. Flustered, DEAN takes a few rags out of his pocket and hands one to SAM, who looks sick to his stomach.) DEAN: Here, start wiping down your fingerprints, we don’t want the cops to know we were here. Go, go, come on. (SAM takes the rag and starts wiping the railing of the fire escape.) I’m gonna take a look inside. (He opens another nearby window and climbs in. SAM glances at the bloodstained window and cringes.) (CUT TO: EXT. – Apartment. DEAN and SAM are walking back to their car.) DEAN: I’m tellin’ you, there was nothing in there. There’s no signs either, just like the Millers’ house. SAM: I saw something in the vision, like a dark shape. Something was stalking Roger. DEAN: Well, whatever it was, we can be sure it’s not connected to their house. SAM: No, it’s connected to the family itself. So, what do you think we got? A vengeful spirit? (They stop at the car and get inside.) DEAN: Yeah, there’s a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow ‘em for years. SAM: Banshees. DEAN: Basically like a curse. So, maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy. Something curse-worthy. SAM: And now something’s out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying. Hey, you think Max is in danger? DEAN: Let’s figure it out before he is. (He starts the car.) SAM: Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people. DEAN: What’s that? SAM: Both our families are cursed. DEAN: Our family’s not cursed. We just….had our dark spots. (SAM laughs.) SAM: Our dark spots are pretty dark. DEAN: You’re—dark. (He drives away.) (CUT TO: Miller house. Living room. SAM and DEAN are dressed as ministers again, talking to MAX.) MAX: My mom’s resting. She’s pretty wrecked. DEAN: Of course. MAX: All these people kept coming with, like, casseroles. I finally had to tell them all to go away. (He gestures to the dining room table, which is covered with trays of casserole.) You know, ‘cause nothing says “I’m sorry” like a tuna casserole. (They laugh. MAX motions for them to sit down.) SAM: How you holdin’ up? MAX: I’m okay. SAM: Your dad and your uncle were close? MAX: Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little. SAM: But not lately much? MAX: No, it’s not that. It’s just—we used to be neighbors when I was kid. And we lived across town in this house, and Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time. SAM: Right. So, how was it in that house when you were a kid? MAX: It was fine. Why? DEAN: All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle, maybe? MAX: (flustered) What do you—why do you ask? DEAN: Just a question. MAX: (emotionless) No. There was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy. DEAN: Good. That’s good. Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off. SAM: Right. (to MAX) Thanks. MAX: Yeah. (CUT TO: EXT. – House. SAM and DEAN are walking back to the car.) DEAN: Nobody’s family is totally normal and happy. Did you see when he was talkin’ about his old house? SAM: Sounded scared. (DEAN nods.) DEAN: Yeah, Max isn’t tellin’ us everything. I say we go find the old neighborhood, and find out what life was really like at the Millers’. (They get in the car.) (CUT TO: EXT. – Neighbor’s house. Previous neighborhood.) SAM: Have you lived in the neighborhood very long? NEIGHBOR: Yeah, almost twenty years now. It’s nice and quiet. Why, you lookin’ to buy? SAM: No, no, actually, we were just wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street, I believe. DEAN: Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy named Max. SAM: Right. (The man looks slightly sad.) NEIGHBOR: Yeah, I remember. The brother had the place next door. (He points to the house across the street.) So, uh, what’s this about? That poor kid okay? SAM: What do you mean? NEIGHBOR: Well, in my life, I’ve never seen a child treated like that. I mean, I’d hear Mr. Miller yellin’ and throwin’ things clear across the street. He was a mean drunk. He used to beat the tar out of Max. Bruises—broke his arm two times that I know of. SAM: And this was going on regularly? NEIGHBOR: Practically every day. (SAM looks disgusted.) In fact, that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy, but the worst part was the stepmother. She’d just stand there, checked out, never lifted a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times, never did any good. DEAN: Now, you said stepmother. NEIGHBOR: I think his real mom died. Some sort of accident—a car accident, I think. (to SAM) Are you okay, there? (SAM is clutching his head and breathing sharply.) SAM: (painfully) Yeah. DEAN: Thanks for your time. SAM: Yeah, thank you. (DEAN helps SAM back to the car. SAM stops and stares, looking terrified. There is a blinding flash of light, and the scene cuts to the Millers’ kitchen. MS. MILLER is chopping vegetables quickly.) MS. MILLER: (tearfully) I don’t know what you mean by that. You know I never did anything. MAX: (crying) That’s right. You didn’t do anything. You didn’t stop them, not once! (The knife on the cutting board begins to move, then levitates in the air.) MS. MILLER: How did you—? (The knife flies through the air towards her and she pins herself against the wall. The knife points itself directly at her eye, barely a centimeter away.) Max, please! MAX: For every time you stood there and watched. Pretending it wasn’t happening! MS. MILLER: I’m sorry! MAX: No, you’re not. You just don’t want to die. (The knife moves backwards then flies straight towards MS. MILLER and goes right through her head. Blood sprays on the wall. MAX stands there, shocked. The screen goes black.) (FADE IN: INT. – Car. SAM and DEAN are driving.) SAM: Max is doing it. Everything I’ve been seeing. DEAN: You sure about this? SAM: Yeah, I saw. DEAN: How’s he pullin’ it off? SAM: I don’t know. It looked like telekinesis. DEAN: So, he’s psychic? He’s a spoon-bender? SAM: I didn’t even realize it, but this whole time he was there. He was outside of the garage when his dad died, he was in the apartment when his uncle died. These visions, this whole time, I wasn’t connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max. The thing I don’t get is why, man? I guess because we’re so alike? DEAN: What are you talking about? The dude’s nothing like you. SAM: Well, we both have psychic abilities. We’re both— DEAN: Both what? Sam, Max is a monster. He’s already killed two people, and now he’s gunnin’ for a third. SAM: Well, with what he went through—the beatings. To want revenge on those people, I’m sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane. DEAN: Yeah, but it doesn’t justify murdering your entire family. SAM: Dean— DEAN: He’s no different than anything else we’ve hunted. Alright, we’ve gotta end him. (He pulls the car over and shuts it off.) SAM: We’re not gonna kill Max. DEAN: Then what? I hand him over to the cops and say, “Lock him up, officer, he kills with the power of his mind.” SAM: Forget it. No way, man. DEAN: Sam— SAM: Dean. He’s a person. We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you’ll follow my lead on this one. (DEAN pauses.) DEAN: Alright, fine. But I’m not lettin’ him hurt anybody else. (He reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a gun. They get out of the car.) (CUT TO: Millers’ kitchen. Just as in SAM’s vision, MS. MILLER is chopping vegetables and crying.) MS. MILLER: You know I never did anything. MAX: That’s right. You didn’t do anything. (The knife begins to rattle on the cutting board.) You didn’t stop them, not once! (DEAN and SAM burst through the kitchen door. The knife stops moving.) MS. MILLER: Fathers? MAX: What are you doing here? DEAN: Uh, sorry to interrupt. SAM: Max, could we, uh—could we talk to you outside for just one second? MAX: About what? SAM: It’s—it’s private. I wouldn’t wanna bother your mother with it. We won’t be long at all, though. I promise. (MAX glances at his stepmother.) MAX: Okay. SAM: Great. (MAX walks to SAM and DEAN. DEAN opens the front door. MAX glances in the mirror by the door and sees the gun sticking out of DEAN’s jeans. The door suddenly slams shut, along with all the windows.) MAX: You’re not priests! (DEAN takes out the gun and points it at MAX, but MAX uses telekinesis to grab the gun from DEAN. It drops on the floor, and MAX picks it up. He points it at SAM and DEAN.) MS. MILLER: Max, what’s happening?! MAX: Shut up! MS. MILLER: What are you doing?! (MAX jerks his head, and MS. MILLER is flung into the kitchen counter. She collapses on the floor.) MAX: I said shut up! SAM: Max, calm down! MAX: Who are you?! SAM: We just wanna talk to you. MAX: Yeah, right, that’s why you brought this! SAM: That was a mistake, alright? So was lying about who we were, but no more lying, Max, okay? Just, please—just hear me out. MAX: About what? SAM: I saw you do it. I saw you kill your dad and your uncle before it happened. MAX: What? SAM: I’m having visions, Max. About you. MAX: You’re crazy. SAM: So, you weren’t gonna launch a knife at your stepmom? (He points to his eye.) Right here? Is it that hard to believe, Max? Look what you can do. Max, I was drawn here, alright? I think I’m here to help you. MAX: No one can help me! SAM: Let me try. We’ll just talk. Me and you. We’ll get Dean and Alice out of here. DEAN: Nuh-uh. No way. (SAM holds up his index finger. The light fixture above them starts to shake.) MAX: Nobody leaves this house! SAM: And nobody has to, alright? They’ll just—they’ll just go upstairs. DEAN: Sam, I’m not leavin’ you alone with him. SAM: (quietly) Yes, you are. (to MAX) Look, Max, you’re in charge here, alright? We all know that. No one's gonna do anything that you don’t want to, but I’m talkin’ five minutes here, man. DEAN: Sam. (SAM holds up his index finger again.) MAX: Five minutes. (The light fixture stops shaking.) Go. (DEAN moves to the kitchen and shakes MS. MILLER awake. She groans. DEAN picks her up.) (CUT TO: Living room. MAX and SAM are sitting on couches, facing each other. MAX moves a letter opener so that it is standing upright.) SAM: Look, I can’t begin to understand what you went through. MAX: (eyes fixed on the letter opener) That’s right, you can’t. SAM: Max, this has to stop. MAX: It will. After my stepmother. SAM: No. You need to let her go. MAX: Why? (The letter opener begins to spin on its tip.) SAM: Did she beat you? MAX: No. But she never tried to save me, she’s a part of it, too. SAM: Look, what they did to you, what they all did to you, growing up—they deserve to be punished. MAX: Growing up? Try last week. (He stands up and raises his shirt. There is a large bruise on his stomach and ribs, along with multiple cuts.) My dad still hit me, just in places people wouldn’t see it. Old habits die hard, I guess. (He sits back down.) SAM: (stunned) I’m sorry. (The letter opener spins faster.) MAX: When I first found out I could move things, it was a gift. My whole life I was helpless. But now I had this. So, last week, Dad gets drunk—first time in a long time. And he beats me to hell—first time in a long time. And then I knew what I had to do. SAM: Why didn’t you just leave? (The letter opener falls over and SAM jumps.) MAX: It wasn’t about getting away—just knowing that they’d still be out there. It was about not being afraid. When my dad used to look at me, there was hate in his eyes. Do you know what that feels like? SAM: (softly) No. MAX: He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for my mom’s death. SAM: Why would he blame you for your mom’s death? MAX: Because she died in my nursery. While I was asleep in my crib. (SAM’s eyes grow wide.) As if that makes it my fault. SAM: She died in your nursery? MAX: Yeah. There was a fire. And he’d get drunk and babble on like she died in some insane way. He said that she burned up. Pinned to the ceiling. (SAM looks shocked. The screen goes black.) (FADE IN: Living room. SAM and MAX are still talking.) SAM: Listen to me, Max. What your dad said about what happened to your mom—it’s real. MAX: What? SAM: It happened to my mom, too. Exactly the same—my nursery, my crib. My dad saw her on the ceiling. MAX: Then your dad must have been as drunk as mine. SAM: No. No, it’s the same thing, Max. The same thing killed our mothers. MAX: That’s not possible. SAM: This must be why I’ve been having visions during the day. Why they’re getting more intense. ‘Cause you and I must be connected in some way. Your abilities—they started six, seven months ago, right? Out of the blue? MAX: How’d you know that? SAM: Because that’s when my abilities started, Max. I mean, yours seem to be much further along, but still, this—this means something, right? I mean, for some reason, you and I—you and I were chosen. MAX: For what? SAM: I don’t know. But Dean and I—my brother and I, we’re hunting for your mom's killer. And we can find answers. Answers that can help us both. But you gotta let us go. You gotta let your stepmother go. (MAX looks thoughtful for a moment, then his expression turns cold again. He shakes his head.) MAX: No. What they did to me—I still have nightmares! I’m still scared all the time, like I’m just waiting for their next beating! I’m just tired of being scared. If I do this, it’ll be over! (He gets up and starts walking towards the stairs, but SAM runs in front of him.) SAM: No, don’t you get it? It won’t. The nightmares won’t end, Max, not like this. It’s just more pain. And it makes you as bad as them. Max, you don’t have to go through all this by yourself. (MAX stares at him for a moment.) MAX: I’m sorry. (SAM gets flung into a closet and the doors shut.) SAM: No! (Max uses his abilities to move a large cupboard in front of the closet. SAM pounds on the doors.) No, Max! No! Max! (MAX walks to the stairs.) (CUT TO: Upstairs. Bedroom. DEAN is kneeling next to MS. MILLER, holding a washcloth to her head. The bedroom door opens on its own, MAX enters, and the door closes. DEAN starts to walk towards MAX, but DEAN is thrown into a wall. He falls to the ground. MAX pulls out the gun.) MS. MILLER: Max! (MAX lets go of the gun, and it hovers in the air.) No. Max. (DEAN starts to move, but the gun moves with him.) MAX: Stay back. It’s not about you. DEAN: If you wanna kill her, you gotta go through me first. MAX: Okay. (The trigger is pulled and DEAN is shot through the head. The wall behind him is covered in blood, and he collapses to the floor. Another flash of white light brings the scene back to the closet. SAM is sweating heavily and leaning against the wall of the closet in pain.) SAM: No! No! (Outside, the cupboard moves away from the closet. Inside, SAM looks confused. He cautiously pushes the closet door open.) (CUT TO: Bedroom. MAX has the gun in the air, pointed at his stepmother.) MS. MILLER: Max. (DEAN steps forward, but the gun points at him.) MAX: Stay back. It’s not about you. DEAN: If you wanna kill her, you gotta go through me first. (MAX smiles coldly.) MAX: Okay. (He is about to pull the trigger when SAM bursts through the door.) SAM: No, don’t! Don’t! Please. Please, Max. Max, we can help you, alright? But this—what you’re doing—it’s not the solution. It’s not gonna fix anything. (MAX stares at him for a moment.) MAX: You’re right. (SAM smiles slightly. Suddenly, MAX points the gun towards himself and shoots himself in the head. He falls to the ground.) SAM: No! (DEAN, SAM, and MS. MILLER look stunned. The screen goes black.) (FADE IN: Living room. Police officers are investigating the house. MS. MILLER is talking to a cop.) MS. MILLER: Max attacked me. He threatened me with a gun. POLICE OFFICER: (gesturing towards SAM and DEAN) And these two? MS. MILLER: They’re….family friends. I called them as soon as Max arrived, I was scared. (Her voice breaks.) They tried to stop him. They fought for the gun. POLICE OFFICER: Where did Max get the gun? MS. MILLER: (hysterically) I don’t know! He showed up with it, and—(She is unable to go on.) POLICE OFFICER: It’s alright, Mrs. Miller. MS. MILLER: I’ve lost everyone! (She continues to sob.) POLICE OFFICER: (to SAM and DEAN) Okay. We’ll give you a call if we have any further questions. DEAN: Thanks, officer. (to SAM) Come on. (They leave.) (CUT TO: EXT. – House. SAM and DEAN are walking back to the car.) SAM: (shaking his head) If I just said somethin’ else. Gotten through to him somehow. DEAN: Don’t do that. SAM: Do what? DEAN: Torture yourself. It wouldn’t have mattered what you said, Max was too far gone. SAM: When I think about how he looked at me, man, right before—should’ve done something. DEAN: Come on, man, you risked your life. I mean, yeah, maybe if we had gotten there twenty years earlier. (They stop at the car.) SAM: Well, I’ll tell you one thing—we’re lucky we had Dad. DEAN: (surprised) I never thought I’d hear you say that. SAM: Well, he could’ve gone a whole ‘nother way after Mom. A little more tequila, a little less demon-hunting, and we would’ve had Max’s childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay—thanks to him. (DEAN pauses.) DEAN: All things considered. (He gets in the car.) (CUT TO: Motel bedroom. DEAN and SAM are getting ready to leave.) SAM: Dean, I’ve been thinking. DEAN: Well, that’s never a good thing. SAM: I’m serious. I’ve been thinking—why would this demon, or whatever it is, why would it kill Mom and Jessica and Max’s mother, you know, what does it want? DEAN: No idea. SAM: Well, you think maybe it was after us? After Max and me? DEAN: Why would you think that? SAM: I mean, either telekinesis or premonitions, we both had abilities, you know? Maybe it was after us for some reason. DEAN: Sam, if it wanted you, it would’ve just taken you, okay? This is not your fault. It’s not about you. SAM: Then what is it about? DEAN: It’s about that damn thing that did this to our family. The thing that we’re gonna find, the thing that we’re gonna kill. And that’s all. SAM: Actually, there’s, uh, somethin’ else, too. DEAN: Oh, jeez, what? SAM: When Max locked me in that closet, that big cabinet against the door—I moved it. (DEAN laughs.) DEAN: You’ve got a little bit more upper body strength than I give you credit for. SAM: No, man, I moved it—like Max. DEAN: Oh. Right. SAM: Yeah. (DEAN grabs a spoon and holds it up.) DEAN: Bend this. SAM: I can’t turn it on and off, Dean. DEAN: Well, how’d you do it? SAM: I don’t know, I can’t control it. I saw you die, and it just came out of me, like a punch. You know, like a freak adrenaline thing. (DEAN puts the spoon down.) DEAN: Well, I’m sure it won’t happen again. SAM: Yeah, maybe. Aren’t you worried, man, aren’t you worried that I could turn into Max or something?
DEAN: Nope. No way. You know why? SAM: No. Why? DEAN: ‘Cause you’ve got one advantage that Max didn’t have. SAM: Dad? Because Dad’s not here, Dean. DEAN: No. Me. (He smiles.) As long as I’m around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you. Now then, I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go. SAM: Where? DEAN: Vegas. (He smiles. SAM scoffs and goes outside to the car.) What? Come on, man. Craps table. We’d clean up. (He smiles and grabs his duffel bag, then shuts off the light in the motel room and closes the door. The screen goes black.)
THE END
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