Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to Supernatural.

Chapter one: Finding the DVD's and Watching 'Pilot'

It was a normal day for Dean Winchester. He had just celebrated his seventeenth birthday, and his baby brothers thirteenth was coming up soon.

He was out with Bobby in the Salvage Yard, helping fix an old Cadillac for another Hunter, when a package dropped down on his head from the sky. Yes, the sky, because they were outside.

"Ow!" He whined, rubbing his head from where he had fallen on the floor. Bobby picked up the super thick package, examining it. "It looks like it's wrapped in some sort of plastic, ya know, the ones you find in stores."

No shit, Sherlock.

Bobby opened it once Dean had regained his feet. "Supernatural, seasons one through nine. Wonder if it has anything to do with hunters?" he asked Dean, who shrugged. "Let's watch them!" he begged his certified Uncle.

The gruff man brought the package of DVD's inside, where John and Sam were having a heated argument.

"Guys!" Dean yelled, efficiently stopping the fight, "we found something... actually, it fell on my head."

As Dean explained what it was to his father and brother, Bobby popped the one titled 'Pilot' from the first box set in. The group crowded around the television, watching as a house came into view and the screen read:

Lawrence, Kansas, 22 years ago

John frowned. "What could have possibly happened then? And isn't that our old house? We weren't even living their twenty-two years ago!"

Crickets chirp. A large deciduous tree with no leaves stands outside one of several suburban homes.

A Woman wearing a white nightgown, carries a small child into a dark room.

Mary: Come on, let's say good night to your brother.

"MOM?" Dean asks, and his brother blinks in confusion. John, who was snacking on popcorn at this point, chocked and Bobby blinked. "What the hell?" he asked in his gruff tone.

Mary turns on the lights: it's the nursery of baby Sam, who is lying in his crib and looking over at Mary and Dean. Mary sets Dean down. Dean leans over the side of the crib and kisses Sam on the forehead.

Dean: 'Night, Sam.

Mary leans over Sam as well.

Mary: Good night, love.

Mary brushes Sam's hair back and kisses his forehead.

Sam and Dean sniffle, and Bobby throws them a tissue box. "No snot on the sofa!" he warned,

Man: Hey, Dean.

Dean turns. The Man in the doorway wearing a USMC T-shirt is John. Dean rushes over to him.

Dean: Daddy!

John: Hey, buddy.

John scoops Dean up.

John frowns, realizing that after Mary died his son had never been as lively.

John: So what do you think? You think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?

Dean shakes his head, laughing.

Dean: No, Daddy.

"You wanted be to toss around a football when I couldn't even walk yet?" Sam asked, amused. John huffed.

John laughs.

John: No.

Mary passes John and Dean on the way out of the room.

Mary: You got him?

John: I got him.

John hugs Dean closer.

John: Sweet dreams, Sam.

John carries Dean out of the room, flipping off the lights. Sam watches them go, gurgling, then tries to reach his toes.

The baseball-themed mobile above Sam's crib begins to spin on its own while Sam watches. The transportation-themed clock on the wall ticks, ticks, stops. The moon-shaped nightlight flickers.

"You don't think-" Dean is cut off by his fathers nod.

Lights flicker on a baby monitor sitting on a nightstand next to a photo of Mary and John. Strange noises come through the monitor. Mary, asleep in bed, stirs. She turns on the light on the nightstand.

Mary: John?

Mary turns: she's alone. She gets up.

"Ah, crap!" John curses.

Mary walks down the hall to Sam's nursery. John, seen only in silhouette, stands over Sam's crib.

Mary: John? Is he hungry?

John turns his head.

Man: Shhh.

Mary: All right.

"She should have known it wasn't me!" John cries. Bobby pats him on the back awkwardly as the man buries his head in his hands, sobbing. The old man hands another tissue box to John, who grabs two and lets out a powerful snort into it. His sons were amused at how uncomposed he was, but also sad at the fact that Mary was about to die.

"Wait, is this about us?" Dean suddenly yells.

The four men look at each other, and pale.

Mary heads back down the hallway. The light by the stairs is flickering. Mary frowns and goes to tap at it till the light steadies.

Mary: Hm.

More flickering light is coming from downstairs: Mary investigates. A war movie is on TV and John has fallen asleep watching it.

Mary: Sammy! Sammy!

Mary enters Sam's nursery and stops short.

Upstairs, Mary screams. John wakes up.

Another sob is wretched out of John back in present day. Bobby sniffles, but composes it as Sam spots it. "Shut up," he warns the youngest boy.

John: Mary?

John scrambles out of the chair.

John: Mary!

John runs upstairs.

John bursts through the closed door of the nursery.

John: Mary.

The room is quiet and appears empty except for Sam awake in his crib and John. John glances around and pushes down the side of Sam's crib.

John: Hey, Sammy. You okay?

"Well, at least you were a cute kid," Bobby mutters. "What happened?" Sam whacks him with a pillow at the comment.

Something dark drips next to Sam. John touches it. Two more drops land on the back of John's hand. It looks like blood. John looks up. Mary is sprawled across the ceiling, the stomach of her nightgown red with blood, staring at John and struggling to breathe. John collapses onto the floor, staring at Mary.

John: No! Mary!

Mary bursts into flame. The fire spreads over the ceiling. John stares, frozen. Sam wails. John, reminded he's not alone, gets up and scoops Sam out of his crib and rushes out of the room.

Dean and Sam feel tears run down their faces. "That's how she died?" they whimper.

Dean is awake and coming to investigate.

Dean: Daddy!

John shoves Sam at Dean.

John: Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!

Dean turns and runs. John turns back to the nursery.

"You carried me out?" Sam asks, astonished. Dean smiles. "Of course, Sammy!" he insists.

John: Mary!

The entire room is on fire. Mary herself can barely be seen.

John: No!

Dean runs outside, holding Sam.

Dean: It's okay, Sammy.

Dean turns to look up at Sam's window, which is lit with gold.

John runs outside, scoops up Dean and Sam, and carries them both away.

John: I gotcha.

Fire explodes out of Sam's nursery window.

They all pale at how much of a close call that had been.

The Lawrence fire department has arrived. A Firefighter gets out of a fire truck and takes over at the gauges for another firefighter.

Firefighter: I got it. You go hold the line up.

The second firefighter goes to the back of the truck and takes a hose from a third firefighter. That firefighter takes the hose towards the house where a fourth firefighter is spraying through Sam's nursery window. A paramedic opens the back of an ambulance. A Police Officer waves some neighbours back.

Officer: Stay back. You have to stay back.

Across the street from the house, John and Dean sit on the hood of John's Impala, John holding Sam. John looks up at the remnants of the fire.

"And that's how it started?" Bobby asked, a scowl on his face. "Who the hell starts with such a sad beginning?"

Stanford University

Present Day

It is 31 Oct 2005.

"So, nine years from now?" Dean asks. Sam, who did the math, nods.

"Gasoline" by Ginger begins to play.

Dean and John cringe at the horrible song.

Young Woman: Sam!

The Young Woman, Jess, comes around a corner; she is wearing a sexy-nurse costume and adjusting her hat. The photo of Mary and John from earlier is on the dresser.

Jess: Get a move on, would you?

Dean and John let their mouths drop open. "She's calling Sammy?" they ask together. Sam smirks, leaning back. "I got the hot one!" he announces.

John frowns. "But why are you with a girl?" he asks, and Sam freezes. "I don't know," he says, sincere.

Jess: We were supposed to be there like fifteen minutes ago.

Jess walks off.

Jess: Sam!

Jess: You coming or what?

A Young Man pokes his head around the corner; this is Sam. He's wearing jeans and three shirts, not a costume.

"Why are you so tall?" Dean sulks.

Sam: Do I have to?

Jess: Yes!

Jess: It'll be fun.

Sam comes into the room.

Jess: And where's your costume?

Sam laughs and ducks his head.

Sam: You know how I feel about Halloween.

The bar is decorated for Halloween (including a gargoyle with cobwebs and a baseball hat that says "GET NAKED"). Someone pours someone else a shot. Everyone is in costume.

"People are stupid." Dean mutters.

Jess raises a glass as a Young Man in a ghoul costume comes up to the table where Sam and Jess are. Sam is still not in costume.

Jess: So here's to Sam-

"Why are you toasting him?" Dean asks. Sam frowns. His brother had no idea how smart he actually was.

Jess: -and his awesome LSAT victory.

"Excuse me?" John gapes. "Why are you in college?"

Sam shrugs. "Dunno," he replies, happy he got in.

Sam: All right, all right, it's not that big a deal.

Jess, Sam, and Luis clink glasses.

Jess: Yeah, he acts all humble.

Jess: But he scored a one seventy-four.

"Boy you are special!" Bobby cheers, happy his honorary nephew was super-brained. John and Dean continued to grumble.

Luis drinks his shot and so does Sam.

Luis: Is that good?

Jess: Scary good.

Jess drinks.

Luis: So there you go. You are a first-round draft pick. You can go to any law school you want!

"Law school? With all the laws we break?" Dean asks, an incredulous look on his face.

Luis sits next to Sam.

Sam: Actually, I got an interview here. Monday. If it goes okay I think I got a shot at a full ride next year.

Jess: Hey. It's gonna go great.

Sam: It better.

Luis: How does it feel to be the golden boy of your family?

"I wonder what we think of this!" John bellows.

Sam: Ah, they don't know.

"Wait, care to repeat that?" Dean asks, unamused. "Why the hell don't we know?"

Luis: Oh, no, I would be gloating! Why not?

Sam: Because we're not exactly the Bradys.

Everyone in the room snorts.

Luis: And I'm not exactly the Huxtables. More shots?

Jess and Sam speak in chorus.

Jess and Sam: No. No.

Sam: No.

Luis goes up to the bar anyway.

Jess: No, seriously. I'm proud of you. And you're gonna knock 'em dead on Monday, and you're gonna get that full ride. I know it.

Sam: What would I do without you?

Jess: Crash and burn.

Dean laughs. "It's probably true!" he cries as he laughs. Sam sniffs.

Jess smiles and pulls Sam in for a kiss.

Sam and Jess lie in bed, asleep back to back. Jess shifts position.

A sound outside the room, like a window opening. Sam opens his eyes.

"Oh, no, Buddy! Better remember the hunt!"

Sam leaves the bedroom and looks around the apartment.

"You don't go looking for trouble, Idjit!" Bobby scolds.

A window is open; earlier it must have been closed. Footsteps. A Man walks past the strings of beads at the far end of the hall. Sam moves to another part of the apartment and waits. The Man enters the room. Sam lunges forward and grabs the Man at the shoulder. The Man knocks Sam's arm away and aims a strike at Sam, who ducks. The Man grabs Sam's arm, swings him around, and shoves him back. Sam kicks and is blocked, then pushed back into another room. If the Man hadn't seen Sam's face before, he sees it now; Sam gets his first glimpse of the Man. The Man elbows Sam in the face; Sam kicks at his head. The Man ducks and swings and Sam blocks. The Man knocks Sam down and pins him to the floor, one hand at Sam's neck and the other holding Sam's wrist.

Man: Whoa, easy, tiger.

"Hey, that looks like me!"

Sam breathes hard.

Sam: Dean?

"I knew it!"

Dean laughs.

Sam: You scared the crap out of me!

Dean: That's 'cause you're out of practice.

At that statement, John growls.

Sam grabs Dean's hand and yanks, slamming his heel into Dean's back and Dean to the floor.

Dean: Or not.

Sam gives his father a triumphant smirk.

Sam taps Dean twice where Sam is holding him.

Dean: Get off of me.

Sam rolls to his feet and pulls Dean up.

Sam: What the hell are you doing here?

Dean: Well, I was looking for a beer.

"Huh? Repeat?" Bobby asks, amused.

Dean puts his hands on Sam's shoulders, shakes once, and lets go.

Sam: What the hell are you doing here?

"He just told you. Why are you acting so god damn prissy?" John asks.

Dean: Okay. All right. We gotta talk.

Sam: Uh, the phone?

Dean: If I'd'a called, would you have picked up?

"Why wouldn't he have?" John asks.

Jess turns the light on. She is wearing very short shorts and a cropped Smurfs shirt.

Jess: Sam?

Sam and Dean turn their heads in unison.

Sam: Jess. Hey. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.

Dean looks at her appreciatively.

Jess: Wait, your brother Dean?

"And she hasn't met me at that point? I'm disappointed in you, Sammy!" Dean whines.

Jess smiles. Sam nods. Dean grins at her and moves closer.

Dean: Oh, I love the Smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league.

"DUDE!" Sam yells.

Jess: Just let me put something on.

Jess turns to go. Dean's voice stops her.

Dean: No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously.

Sam whacks him. Hard.

Dean goes back over to Sam without taking his eyes off Jess. Sam watches him, his expression stony.

Dean: Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meeting you.

Sam: No.

Sam goes over to Jess and puts an arm around her.

Sam: No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her.

Dean: Okay.

Dean turns to look at them both straight on.

Dean: Um. Dad hasn't been home in a few days.

John huffs. "So?" he asks.

Sam: So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later.

"Even Sam knows this!"

Dean ducks his head and looks back up.

Dean: Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days.

Everyone in the room pales. What had happened to John?

Sam's expression doesn't change while he takes this in. Jess glances up at him.

Sam: Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside.

Sam and Dean head downstairs. Sam has put on jeans and a hoodie.

Sam: I mean, come on. You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you.

Dean: You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I need you to help me find him.

Sam: You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine.

John and Dean concede that it is probably true.

Dean stops and turns around. Sam stops too.

Dean: Not for this long. Now are you gonna come with me or not?

Sam: I'm not.

Dean: Why not?

Sam: I swore I was done hunting. For good.


Dean: Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad.

Dean starts downstairs again. Sam follows.

Sam: Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45.

Dean stops at the door to the outside.

Dean: Well, what was he supposed to do?

Bobby face-palms. "How old was he, John?"

Sam: I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark.

Bobby whacks John for his idiocy regarding children.

Dean: Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there.

Sam: Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her.

Dean glances outside.

Sam: But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find.

Dean: We save a lot of people doing it, too.

A pause.

Sam: You think Mom would have wanted this for us?

John winces. "That was a low blow, Sam," he mutters.

Dean rolls his eyes and slams the door open.

There's a short flight of stairs from the door to the parking lot. Dean and Sam climb it.

Sam: The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors.

They cross the parking lot to the Impala from the prologue.

Dean: So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?

Sam: No. Not normal. Safe.

Dean: And that's why you ran away.

John and Dean look to Sam, who isn't looking at them.

Dean looks away.

Sam: I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing.

John blinks. "I wouldn't have said that!" he says.

Dean: Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it.

Sam is silent.

Dean: I can't do this alone.

Sam: Yes you can.

Dean looks down.

Dean: Yeah, well, I don't want to.

Sam sighs and looks down, thinking, then up.

Sam: What was he hunting?

Dean opens the trunk of the Impala, then the spare-tire compartment. It's an arsenal. He props the compartment open with a shotgun and digs through the clutter.

"Wait, I give you the Impala?" John asks. "What the hell am I driving?"

Dean: All right, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?

Sam: So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?

Dean: I was working my own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans.

Sam: Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?

Dean looks over at Sam.

Dean: I'm twenty-six, dude.

Sam chuckles. "Changes nothing, Dean!" he mocks.

Dean pulls some papers out of a folder.

Dean: All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy.

Dean hands one of the papers to Sam.

Dean: They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA.

The paper is a printout of an article from the Jericho Herald[i], headlined "Centennial Highway Disappearance" and dated Sept. 19th 2005; it has a man's picture, captioned "Andrew Carey MISSING". Sam reads it and glances up.

Sam: So maybe he was kidnapped.

Dean: Yeah. Well, here's another one in April.

Dean tosses down another Jericho Herald article for each date he mentions.

Dean: Another one in December 'oh-four, 'oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two, ten of them over the past twenty years.

Dean takes the article back from Sam and picks up the rest of the stack, putting them back in the folder.

Dean: All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road.

Dean pulls a bag out of another part of the arsenal.

Dean: It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough.

Dean grabs a handheld tape recorder.

Dean: Then I get this voicemail yesterday.

He presses play. The recording is staticky and the signal was clearly breaking up.

John: Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.

Dean presses stop.

Sam: You know there's EVP on that?

"Smart kid," Bobby praises.

Dean: Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?

Sam shakes his head.

Dean: All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got.

He presses play again.

Woman: I can never go home...

All in the room blink. "Why can't she go home?" Dean asks.

Dean presses stop.

Sam: Never go home.

Dean drops the recorder, puts down the shotgun, stands straight, and shuts the trunk, then leans on it.

Dean: You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.

Deans eyes go wide. "Two years?" he asks. "I can barely stay away for a week!"

Sam looks away and sighs, then looks back.

Sam: All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him.

Dean nods.

Sam: But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here.

Sam turns to go back to the apartment. He turns back when Dean speaks.

Dean: What's first thing Monday?

Sam: I have this...I have an interview.

Dean: What, a job interview? Skip it.

Sam: It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate.

Dean: Law school?

"My reaction exactly!" John says.

Dean smirks.

Sam: So we got a deal or not?

Dean says nothing.

Sam is packing a duffel bag. He pulls out a large hook-shaped knife and slides it inside. Jess comes into the room.

Jess: Wait, you're taking off?

Sam looks up.

Sam: Is this about your dad? Is he all right?

Sam: Yeah. You know, just a little family drama.

Sam goes over to the dresser and turns on the lamp atop it.

Jess: Your brother said he was on some kind of hunting trip.

Jess sits on the bed. Sam rummages in one of the drawers and comes out with a couple shirts, which go in the duffel.

Sam: Oh, yeah, he's just deer hunting up at the cabin, he's probably got Jim, Jack, and José along with him. I'm just going to go bring him back.

Bobby, John, and Dean laugh at the names Sam came up with.

Jess: What about the interview?

Sam: I'll make the interview. This is only for a couple days.

Sam goes around the bed. Jess gets up and follows.

Jess: Sam, I mean, please.

Sam stops and turns.

Jess: Just stop for a second. You sure you're okay?

Sam laughs a little.

Sam: I'm fine.

Jess: It's just...you won't even talk about your family. And now you're taking off in the middle of the night to spend a weekend with them? And with Monday coming up, which is kind of a huge deal.

"Are you ashamed of us, Kid?" John asks, frowning. Sam shifts, confirming Johns question.

Sam: Hey. Everything's going to be okay. I will be back in time, I promise.

He kisses her on the cheek and leaves.

Jess: At least tell me where you're going.

Jericho, California

The Eagles of Death Metal's "Speaking in Tongues" plays. A Young Man, Troy, is driving down the highway, talking on his cell phone.

Troy: Amy, I can't come over tonight. Because I've got work in the morning, that's why. ...Yeah, okay, I miss it and my dad's gonna have my ass.

A high-pitched whine. Troy looks over and sees a Woman in a white dress on the side of the road. She's moving as though dancing; she flickers, and for a moment she's gone.

Troy: Hey, ah, Amy, let me call you back?

"Uh oh," Sam says. "Is that-" John nods. "Woman in White."

Troy tries several times to turn off the radio, which is flickering. Nothing happens.

Troy pulls up next to the Woman, whose dress is torn in several places, and stops, leaning across the shotgun seat.

Troy: Car trouble or something?

A long pause.

Woman: Take me home?

The voice is the Same one from the altered voicemail. Troy opens the passenger door.

Troy: Sure, get in.

The Woman, who is barefoot, climbs in and closes the door.

Troy: So, where do you live?

Woman: At the end of Breckenridge Road.

Troy nods.

Troy: You coming from a Halloween party or something?

The Woman's dress is very low-cut. Troy notices, stares, and looks away, laughing nervously.

Troy: You know, a girl like you really shouldn't be alone out here.

She looks at him mournfully, seductively, and pulls her skirt up over her thigh.

Woman: I'm with you.

Sam makes a disgusted noise, and Dean laughs at him.

Troy looks away. The Woman takes Troy's chin and turns his face towards her.

Woman: Do you think I'm pretty?

Troy nods, eyes stuck on her cleavage.

Troy: Uh...huh.

Woman: Will you come home with me?

Troy: Um. Hell yeah.

He drives off.

"Stupid idjit," Bobby mutters.

They pull up to an old abandoned house at the end of a road. The Woman stares at it sadly.

Troy: Come on. You don't live here.

Woman: I can never go home.

Troy: What are you talking about? Nobody even lives here. Where do you live?

He turns, and she's gone. He checks the back seat, also empty, and gets out of the car, nervous.

Troy: That's good. Joke's over, okay? You want me to leave?

Troy looks around: no signs of life except crickets. He walks towards the house.

Troy: Hello? Hello?

There's a picture of the Woman and two children inside the house; the picture is covered in dust.

Troy peers through the hole in the screen door. A bird flies at his face, scaring him into falling over. He yells, leaps to his feet, and runs back to the car. He gets in and drives off.

Troy looks behind him-no one's there-then in the rearview mirror. The Woman is in the back seat. Troy yells again and drives straight through a "Bridge Closed" sign, stopping about halfway across the bridge. He screams. Blood spatters the windows.

It is 1 Nov 2005.

The Impala is parked in front of a pump. "Ramblin' Man" by the Allman Brothers plays.

Dean comes out of the convenience mart carrying junk food.

Sam is sitting in the shotgun seat with the door open, rifling through a box of tapes.

Dean: Hey!

Sam leans out and looks at him.

Dean: You want breakfast?

Sam: No, thanks.

Sam: So how'd you pay for that stuff? You and Dad still running credit card scams?

Dean: Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career.

Dean puts the nozzle back on the pump.

Dean: Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards.

Dean nods. "Good excuse!" he praises himself.

Sam: Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?

Sam swings his legs back inside the car and closes the door.

Dean: Uh, Burt Aframian.

Dean gets into the driver seat and puts his soda and chips down.

Dean: And his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal.

Dean closes the door.

Sam: That sounds about right. I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection.

There are at least a dozen cassettes in the box on Sam's lap; some have album art, others are hand-labeled.

Dean: Why?

Sam: Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two.

Sam holds up a tape for every band he names.

Sam: Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?

"What do you have against the classics?" Dean cries loudly.

Dean takes the box labeled Metallica from Sam.

Sam: It's the greatest hits of mullet rock.

Dean: Well, house rules, Sammy.

Dean pops the tape in the player.

Dean: Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.

John, who had just taken a sip of his coffee, spit it back out. "What did you just say?" he laughs. Bobby grunted. "You'd better clean that!"

Dean drops the Metallica box back in the box of tapes and starts the engine.

Sam: You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old.

AC/DC's "Back in Black" begins to play.

Sam: It's Sam, okay?

Dean: Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud.

Dean drives off.

They drive past a sign that says "JERICHO 7".

Sam is talking on his cell phone.

Sam: Thank you.

Sam closes his phone.

Sam: All right. So, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue.

Sam: So that's something, I guess.

Dean glances over at Sam, then back at the road. At a bridge ahead of them, there are two police cars and several officers.

Dean: Check it out.

Sam leans forward for a closer look.

Dean pulls over. They take a long look before Dean turns off the engine. Kid Gloves Music's "My Cheatin' Ways" begins to play. Dean opens the glove compartment and pulls out a box full of ID cards with his and John's faces: visible ones include FBI and DEA. He picks one out and grins at Sam, who stares.

Dean: Let's go.

Dean gets out of the car.

On the bridge, the lead Deputy, Deputy Jaffe, leans over the railing to yell down to two MEN in wetsuits who were poking around the river.

Jaffe: You guys find anything?

Man: No! Nothing!

Jaffe turns back to the car in the middle of the bridge. It's familiar: it's Troy's, the blood gone. Another Deputy, Deputy Hein, is at the driver's side looking around inside the car.

"Blood gone?" Sam asks. "Huh?"

Hein: No sign of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless. It's almost too clean.

Dean and Sam walk into the crime scene like they belong there.

Jaffe: So, this kid Troy. He's dating your daughter, isn't he?

Hein: Yeah.

Jaffe: How's Amy doing?

Hein: She's putting up missing posters downtown.

Dean: You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?

Jaffe looks up when Dean starts talking and straightens up to talk to him.

Jaffe: And who are you?

Dean flashes his badge.

Dean: Federal marshals.

Jaffe: You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?

Dean laughs.

Dean: Thanks, that's awfully kind of you.

Sam face-palms.

Dean goes over to the car.

Dean: You did have another one just like this, correct?

Jaffe: Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that.

Sam: So, this victim, you knew him?

Jaffe nods.

Jaffe: Town like this, everybody knows everybody.

Dean circles the car, looking around.

Dean: Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?

Jaffe: No. Not so far as we can tell.

Sam: So what's the theory?

Sam goes over to Dean.

Jaffe: Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?

Dean: Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys.

John snorts into his coffee, thankfully not having taken a sip yet.

Sam stomps on Dean's foot.

Dean gives Sam a wounded look. "Ouch!"

Sam: Thank you for your time.

Sam starts to walk away. Dean follows.

Sam: Gentlemen.

Jaffe watches them go. Dean smacks Sam on the head.

Sam: Ow! What was that for?

Dean: Why'd you have to step on my foot?

Sam: Why do you have to talk to the police like that?

Dean looks at Sam and moves in front of him, forcing Sam to stop walking.

Dean: Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves.

Sam clears his throat and looks over Dean's shoulder. Dean turns. It's Sheriff Pierce and two FBI Agents.

Sheriff: Can I help you boys?

Dean: No, sir, we were just leaving.

As the FBI Agents walk past Dean, he nods at each of them.

Dean: Agent Mulder. Agent Scully.

Dean and Sam head past the Sheriff, who turns to watch them go.


The marquee on the Highland Movie Theater reads: EMERGENCY TOWN HALL MEETING



A Young Woman is tacking up posters with Troy's face and the caption "MISSING Troy SQUIRE". Dean and Sam approach.

Dean: I'll bet you that's her.

"Wow, aren't you bright!" Sam mocks.

Sam: Yeah.

Dean and Sam walk up to the Young Woman.

Dean: You must be Amy.

Amy: Yeah.

Dean: Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy.

Amy: He never mentioned you to me.

"I taught you better, boys!" John scolded.

Amy walks away. Dean and Sam walk with her.

Dean: Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto.

Sam: So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around.

Another Young Woman comes up to Amy and puts a hand on her arm.

Rachel: Hey, are you okay?

Amy: Yeah.

Sam: You mind if we ask you a couple questions?

Another poster that says MISSING Troy SQUIRE flaps in the breeze.

The four of them are sitting in a booth, Dean and Sam opposite Amy and Rachel.

Amy: I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.

Sam: He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?

Amy shakes her head.

Amy: No. Nothing I can remember.

Sam: I like your necklace.

Amy holds the pendant she's wearing, a pentagram in a circle, and looks down at it.

Amy: Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents-

Amy laughs.

Amy: -with all that devil stuff.

Sam laughs a little and looks down, then up. Dean looks over.

Sam: Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.

"Nerd," Dean grumbles.

Dean: Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries.

Dean takes his arm off the back of Sam's seat and leans forward.

Dean: Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything...

Amy and Rachel look at each other.

Dean: What is it?

Rachel: Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk.

Dean and Sam speak in chorus.

Dean and Sam: What do they talk about?

Rachel: It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago.

Dean looks at Sam, who watches Rachel attentively, nodding.

Rachel: Well, supposedly she's still out there.

Sam nods.

Rachel: She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.

Sam and Dean look at each other.

A web browser is open to the archive search page for the Jericho Herald[i]. The words "Female Murder Hitchhiking" are typed into the search box. Dean clicks GO; the screen tells him there are "(0) Result". Dean replaces "Hitchhiking" with "Centennial Highway" with the Same response. Sam is sitting next to him, watching.

Sam: Let me try.

Dean smacks Sam's hand.

Dean: I got it.

Sam shoves Dean's chair out of the way and takes over.

Dean: Dude!

Dean hits Sam in the shoulder.

Dean: You're such a control freak.

Sam: So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?

Dean: Yeah.

Sam: Well, maybe it's not murder.

"Smart thinking, kid. Better than Dean and your Daddy, that's for sure!" Bobby said, making Dean huff and John growl.

Sam replaces "Murder" with "Suicide" and finds an article entitled "Suicide on Centennial". Dean glances at Sam. Sam opens the article, dated April 25, 1981.

A local woman's drowning death was ruled a suicide, the county Sheriff's Department said earlier today. Constance Welch, 24, of 4636 Breckenridge Road, leapt off Sylvania Bridge, at mile 33 of Centennial Highway, and subsequently drowned last night.

Deputy J. Pierce told reporters that, hours before her death, Ms. Welch logged a call with 911 emergency services. In a panicked tone, Ms. Welch described how she found her two young children, 5 and 6, in the bathtub, after leaving them alone for several [minutes]. She reported that their complex-[...]

What happened to my children was a terrible accident. And it must have been too much for my wife. Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it," said husband Joseph Welch. "Now I ask that you all please respect my privacy during this trying time."

At the time of the children's death and Ms. Welch's subsequent suicide, Mr. Welch was at the Frontier auto salvage yard, where he works the graveyard shift as associate manager.

"Connie might have been quiet, but she was the sweetest, most caring girl I ever knew," said Deanna Kripke, a neighbor. "She just doted on those children."

Sam: This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.

There's a picture of Constance; it's the Woman who killed Troy.

Dean: Does it say why she did it?

Sam: Yeah.

Dean: What?

Sam: An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.

Dean raises his eyebrows.

Dean: Hm.

The article has a picture of Joseph next to a picture of Sylvania Bridge; it's the place Troy died.

Sam: "'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch."

Dean: The bridge look familiar to you?

Dean and Sam walk along the bridge, then stop to lean on the railing and look down at the river.

Dean: So this is where Constance took the swan dive.

Sam: So you think Dad would have been here?

Sam looks over at Dean.

Dean: Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him.

"Sounds like ducklings followin' their Mama!" Bobby gauffed.

Dean continues walking. Sam follows.

Sam: Okay, so now what?

Dean: Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while.

Sam stops.

Sam: Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday-

Dean turns around.

Dean: Monday. Right. The interview.

Sam: Yeah.

Dean: Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some Lawyer? Marry your girl?

Sam: Maybe. Why not?

Dean: Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?

Sam steps closer.

Sam: No, and she's not ever going to know.

"Well, that isn't a very healthy relationship!" Dean says.

Dean: Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.

Dean turns around and keeps walking. Sam follows.

Sam: And who's that?

Dean: You're one of us.

John nodded, and Sam frowned.

Sam hurries to get in front of Dean.

Sam: No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.

Dean: You have a responsibility to-

Sam: To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.

"You're pushing it, Boy," John growled.

Dean grabs Sam by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge. A long pause.

Dean: Don't talk about her like that.

Dean releases Sam and walks away. He sees Constance standing at the edge of the bridge.

Dean: Sam.

Sam comes to stand next to Dean. Constance looks over at them, then steps forward off the edge. Sam and Dean run to the railing and look over.

Dean: Where'd she go?

Sam: I don't know.

Behind them, the Impala's engine starts and its headlights come on. Dean and Sam turn to look.

Dean: What the-

Sam: Who's driving your car?

Dean pulls the keys out of his pocket and jingles them. Sam glances at them. The car jerks into motion, heading straight for them. They turn and run.

Sam: Dean? Go! Go!

The car is moving faster than they are; when it gets too close, Sam and Dean dive over the railing. The car comes to a halt.

Sam has caught himself on the edge of the bridge and is hanging on. He pulls himself up onto the bridge and looks around.

Sam: Dean? Dean!

Below, a filthy and annoyed Dean crawls out of the water and onto the mud, panting.

Dean: What?

Sam: Hey! Are you all right?

Dean holds up one hand in an A-OK sign.

Dean: I'm super.

"You look hideous!" Sam giggled.

Sam laughs, relieved, and scoots away from the edge.

Dean shuts the hood of his car and leans on it.

Sam: Your car all right?

Dean: Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!

"Always the cars," Bobby muttered.

Sam: Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So where's the job go from here, genius?

Sam settles on the hood next to Dean. Dean throws up his arms in frustration, then flicks mud off his hands. Sam sniffs, then looks at Dean.

Sam: You smell like a toilet.

Dean looks down.

Bobby, John, andSam laughed very loudly at this, and Dean pouted.

Dean: One room, please.

Dean is standing at the motel check-in desk, still filthy, with Sam right behind him. The clerk picks up the card and looks at it.

Clerk: You guys having a reunion or something?

Sam: What do you mean?

Clerk: I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.

Dean looks back at Sam.

The motel door swings open. Sam is on the other side, having just picked the lock. Sam hides the picks and stands up. Dean is just outside, playing lookout, until Sam reaches out of the room to grab his shoulder and yank him inside. Sam closes the door behind them. They look around-every vertical surface has papers pinned to it: maps, newspaper clippings, pictures, notes. There are books on the desk and assorted junk on the floor and bed, including something with a hazardous-materials symbol.

Sam: Whoa.

Dean turns on a light by the bed and picks up a half-eaten hamburger sitting there. Sam steps over a line of salt on the floor. Dean sniffs the burger and recoils.

Dean: I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least.

John frowns. "I wouldn't leave in the middle of a hunt, unless..." his eyes grew wide, but he didn't continue.

Sam fingers the salt on the floor and looks up.

Sam: Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in.

Dean looks at the papers covering one wall.

Sam: What have you got here?

Dean: Centennial Highway victims.

Sam nods. The victims seen on the wall include Mark somebody, William Durrell, Scott Nifong who disappeared in 1987 at age 25, and somebody Parks. Mark, Durrell, and Nifong are all white males, judging by the photos.

Dean: I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs-

Sam crosses the room.

Dean: -ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?

While Dean talks, Sam looks at the papers taped to the other walls. There's something about the Bell Witch, two people being burned alive, a skeletal person blowing a horn at several scared people with the note "MORTIS DANSE", a column about "Devils + Demons", another about "Sirens, Witches, the possessed", a wooden pentacle, and a note that says "Woman in White" above a printout of the Jericho Herald article on Constance's suicide.

Sam turns on another lamp.

Sam: Dad figured it out.

Dean turns to look.

Dean: What do you mean?

Sam: He found the Same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white.

Dean looks at the photos of Constance's victims.

Dean: You sly dogs.

Dean and John chuckled.

Dean turns back to Sam.

Dean: All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it.

Sam: She might have another weakness.

Dean: Well, Dad would want to make sure.

Dean crosses to Sam.

Dean: He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?

Sam: No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband.

Sam taps the picture of Joseph Welch. The caption says he's thirty; the article dates to 1981, so he must be sixty-four. If he's still alive.

Sam goes to look at something else. Dean looks at the picture below the Herald article, of a woman in a white dress.

Dean: All right. Why don't you, uh, see if you can find an address, I'm gonna get cleaned up.

Dean starts to walk away. Sam turns.

Sam: Hey, Dean?

Dean stops and turns back.

Sam: What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry.

Dean holds up a hand.

Dean: No chick-flick moments.

Dean looked offended at the mention of a chick-flick.

Sam laughs and nods.

Sam: All right. Jerk.

Dean: Bitch.

Sam laughs again. Dean disappears, presumably into the bathroom. Sam notices something, his smile disappearing, and crosses over for a closer look. A rosary hangs in front of a large mirror, and stuck into the mirror frame is a photo of John sitting on the hood of the Impala, next to a Boy in a baseball cap who is presumably Dean and with a younger boy, presumably Sam, on John's lap. Sam takes the photo off the mirror and holds it, smiling sadly.

Sam paces, holding his phone, and sits down on the bed. A voicemail message is playing.

Jess: Hey, it's me, it's about ten-twenty Saturday night-

Dean, clean again, comes out of the bathroom and grabs his jacket. He shrugs it on one shoulder as he crosses the room.

Dean: Hey, man. I'm starving, I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You want anything?

Sam: No.

Dean: Aframian's buying.

Sam shakes his head.

"I don't like fraud!" Sam said in his defence.

Sam: Mm-mm.

Dean leaves the motel room. He gets the jacket the rest of the way on as he crosses the lot. He looks over and sees a police car, where the motel clerk is talking to Deputy Jaffe and Deputy Hein. The clerk points at Dean, who turns away and pulls out his cell phone.

Sam is sitting on the bed, still listening to the message.

Jess: So come home soon, okay? I love you.

The phone beeps. Sam looks at it and presses a button, then puts it back to his ear.

Sam: What?

Outside, the deputies are approaching Dean.

Dean: Dude, five-oh, take off.

Sam stands up.

Sam: What about you?

Dean: Uh, they kinda spotted me. Go find Dad.

Dean hangs up the phone as the deputies approach. He turns and grins at them.

Dean: Problem, officers?

Jaffe: Where's your partner?

Dean: Partner? What, what partner?

Jaffe glances over his shoulder and jerks his thumb towards the motel room. Hein heads over there. Dean fidgets.

Sam sees Hein approaching and darts away from the window.

Jaffe: So. Fake US Marshal. Fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?

Dean: My boobs.

Dean grins.

Hein slams Dean over the hood of the cop car.

Jaffe: You have the right to remain silent-

Sheriff Pierce enters the room, carrying a box. He sets the box on the table at which Dean sits and goes around the table to face Dean across it.

Sheriff: So you want to give us your real name?

Dean: I told you, it's Nugent. Ted Nugent.

John shook his head. "I thought I taught you how to not get caught!"

Sheriff: I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in here.

Dean: We talkin', like, misdemeanor kind of trouble or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble?

Sheriff: You got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall.

Dean looks away.

Dean: Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. Boy, you are officially a suspect.

Dean: That makes sense. Because when the first one went missing in '82 I was three.

Sam snorted, and Bobby grimaced.

Sheriff: I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me, Dean.

The Sheriff tosses a brown leather-covered journal on the table.

Sheriff: This his?

"Hey, that's my journal!" John cried.

Dean stares at it. The Sheriff sits on the edge of the table. He flips through the journal: it's filled with newspaper clippings, notes, and pictures, just like what's on the walls of John's motel room.

Sheriff: I thought that might be your name. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out-I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy.

"You're nine kinds of crazy, douche-wad!" Dean muttered.

Dean leans forward for a closer look.

Sheriff: But I found this, too.

He opens the journal to a page that reads "Dean 35-111", circled, with nothing else on that page.

"Are those coordinates?"

Sheriff: Now. You're stayin' right here till you tell me exactly what the hell that means.

Dean stares down at the page, then looks up.

Sam, seen through the chain-link covering a grimy glass window, knocks on the door the window is in. An Old Man opens it: it's recognizably Joseph Welch.

Sam: Hi. Are you Joseph Welch?

Joseph: Yeah.

Sam and Joseph are walking down the junk-filled driveway, Joseph holding the photo Sam found on John's motel room mirror.

Joseph: Yeah, he was older, but that's him.

Joseph hands the photo back to Sam.

Joseph: He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter.

Sam: That's right. We're working on a story together.

Joseph: Well, I don't know what the hell kinda story you're working on. The questions he asked me?

Sam: About your wife Constance?

Joseph: He asked me where she was buried.

"Smooth, John, real smooth," Bobby mocked.

Sam: And where is that again?

Joseph: What, I gotta go through this twice?

Sam: It's fact-checking. If you don't mind.

Joseph: In a plot. Behind my old place over on Breckenridge.

Sam: And why did you move?

Joseph: I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died.

"Just like we didn't stay where Mary died!" John said.

Sam raised a brow. "We left because you got into hunting and the place was burned to the ground."

John looked a tad bit sheepish.

Sam stops walking. Joseph stops too.

Sam: Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?

Joseph: No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.

Sam: So you had a happy marriage?

Joseph hesitates.

Joseph: Definitely.

Sam: Well, that should do it. Thanks for your time.

Sam turns toward the Impala. Joseph walks away. Sam waits a moment, then looks back up at Joseph.

Sam: Mr. Welch, did you ever hear of a woman in white?

"And that son of yours has just about as much tact as you, Winchester!" Bobby continued.

Joseph turns around.

Joseph: A what?

Sam: A woman in white. Or sometimes weeping woman?

Joseph just looks.

Sam: It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.

Sam starts back toward Joseph.

Sam: Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women.

Sam stops in front of Joseph.

Sam: You understand. But all share the same story.

Joseph: Boy, I don't care much for nonsense.

Joseph walks away. Sam follows.

Sam: See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them.

Joseph stops.

Sam: And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.

Joseph turns around.

Sam: Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.

Joseph: You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartass!

Sam: You tell me.

Joseph: I mean, maybe...maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!

Joseph's face shakes, whether from anger or grief it's impossible to tell. After a long moment, he turns away. Sam sighs.

Dean: I don't know how many times I gotta tell you. It's my high school locker combo.

"Dude, 111 isn't a number on the locks," Sam says.

Sheriff Pierce is still interrogating Dean over the "Dean 35-111" page.

Sheriff: We gonna do this all night long?

A Deputy leans into the room.

Deputy: We just got a 911, shots fired over at Whiteford Road.

Sheriff: You have to go to the bathroom?

Dean: No.

Sheriff: Good.

The Sheriff handcuffs Dean to the table and leaves. Dean sees a paper clip poking out of the journal, pulls it out, and looks at it. Moments later, as the Sheriff and Deputy are gearing up to leave, he is out of the cuffs. Dean watches through the window in the door, ducks out of sight as the Deputy approaches the door, and waits.

Dean climbs down the fire escape, carrying John's journal.

Sam is driving the Impala when his phone rings. He pulls it out and answers it. Dean is in a phone booth; apparently his phone was confiscated and he didn't take the time to steal it back.

Dean: Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal.

Sam looks very ashamed.

Sam: You're welcome.

Sam grins.

Dean: Listen, we gotta talk.

Sam: Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop.

Dean: Sammy, would you shut up for a second?

Sam: I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.

Dean: Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho.

Sam: What? How do you know?

Dean: I've got his journal.

Sam: He doesn't go anywhere without that thing.

"So true. It's like a baby to him."

Dean: Yeah, well, he did this time.

Sam: What's it say?

Dean: Ah, the Same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going.

Sam: Coordinates. Where to?

Dean: I'm not sure yet.

Sam: I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?

"I have an idea..." John murmured.

Sam looks up and slams the brake, dropping the phone: Constance appeared on the road in front of him. The car goes right through her as Sam brings it to a halt.

Dean: Sam? Sam!

Inside the car, Sam breathes hard. Constance is sitting in the back seat.

Constance: Take me home. Take me home!

Sam: No.

"Are you stupid, boy?" John asks.

Constance glares and the doors lock themselves. Sam struggles to reopen them. The gas pedal presses down and the car begins to drive itself. Sam tries to steer, but Constance is doing that too. Sam continues to try to get the door open. In the back seat, Constance flickers.

The car pulls up in front of Constance's house and stops. The engine shuts off and so do the lights.

Sam: Don't do this.

Constance flickers. Her voice is sad.

Constance: I can never go home.

Sam: You're scared to go home.

Sam looks back and Constance isn't there. He glances around and back and sees her in the shotgun seat. She climbs into his lap, shoving him back against the seat hard enough to recline the seat. Sam struggles.

"That's just five shades of wrong," Dean says, grossed out.

Constance: Hold me. I'm so cold.

Sam: You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!

Constance: You will be. Just hold me.

"Oh, that bitch!"

Constance kisses Sam as he continues to struggle, reaching for the keys. She pulls back and disappears, a flash of something horrible behind her face as she vanishes. Sam looks around for a moment, then yells in pain and yanks his hoodie open. There are five new holes burned through the fabric, matching to Constance's fingers: she flickers in front of him, her hand reaching into his chest. A gunshot goes off, shattering the window and startling Constance. Dean approaches, still firing at her. She glares at him and vanishes, then reappears, and Dean keeps firing until she disappears again. Sam manages to sit up and start the car.

Sam: I'm taking you home.

"NOT THE CAR SAMMY!" Dean shouts in despair.

Sam drives forward. Dean stares after the car. Sam smashes through the side of the house. Dean hurries through the wreckage to the passenger side of the car.

Dean: Sam! Sam! You okay?

"He's fine, what about the car?!"

Sam: I think...

Dean: Can you move?

Sam: Yeah. Help me?

"He crashed the car, don't help him up!"

Sam whacked Dean.

Dean leans through the window to give Sam a hand.

Constance picks up a large framed photograph seen when she brought Troy here: the Woman is Constance and the children are presumably hers.

Dean helps Sam out of the car.

Dean: There you go.

Dean closes the car door. They look around and see Constance; she looks up. She glares at them and throws the picture down. A bureau scoots towards Sam and Dean, pinning them against the car. The lights flicker; Constance looks around, scared. Water begins to pour down the staircase. She goes over. At the top are the Boy and Girl from the photograph. They hold hands and speak in chorus.

Children: You've come home to us, Mommy.

"Oh, shit!" John says.

Constance looks at them, distraught. Suddenly they are behind her; they embrace her tightly and she screams, her image flickering. In a surge of energy, still screaming, Constance and the two children melt into a puddle in the floor. Sam and Dean shove the bureau over and go look at the spot where Constance and her children vanished.

Dean: So this is where she drowned her kids.

Sam nods.

Sam: That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.

"And I can see why," Sam says.

Dean: You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.

He slaps Sam on the chest where he's been injured and walks away. Sam laughs through the pain.


Sam: Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?

Dean: Hey. Saved your ass.

"Highway to Hell" by AC/DC begins to play.

Dean leans over to look at the car.

Dean: I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?

Dean twists around to look at Sam.

Dean: I'll kill you.

"Yes, yes I will."

Sam laughs.

The Impala tears down the road; the right headlight is out.

Sam has the journal open to "Dean 35-111" and a map open on his lap and is finding coordinates with a ruler, a flashlight tucked between chin and shoulder.

Sam: Okay, here's where Dad went.

Sam: It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.

Dean nods.

Dean: Sounds charming. How far?

Sam: About six hundred miles.

John whistles.

Dean: Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning.

Sam looks at him, hesitating.

"Yeah, I wonder why."

Sam: Dean, I, um...

Dean glances at the road and back.

Dean: You're not going.

"No shit, Sherlock." Sam says.

"Shut up, Watson," Dean replies.

Bobby raised a brow. "You watch Sherlock?" (Let us pretend that Sherlock was in the 1990's)

Sam: The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there.

Dean nods, disappointed, and returns his attention to the road.

Dean: Yeah. Yeah, whatever.

Dean glances at Sam.

Dean: I'll take you home.

Sam turns the flashlight off. They drive on.

They pull up in front of the apartment, Dean still frowning. Sam gets out and leans over to look through the window.

Sam: Call me if you find him?

John smiles. "At least you're worried."

Dean nods.

Sam: And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?

Dean: Yeah, all right.

Sam pats the car door twice and turns away. Dean leans toward the passenger door, one arm going over the back of the seat.

Dean: Sam?

Sam turns back.

Dean: You know, we made a hell of a team back there.

Sam: Yeah.

Dean drives off. Sam watches him go and sighs.

Sam lets himself in. Everything is dark and quiet.

Sam: Jess?

Sam closes the door.

Sam: You home?

"Oh no, something bad is going to happen. I just know it."

Sam notices a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the table, with a note that reads "Missed you! Love you!", next to a National Geographic. Sam picks one up and eats it as he sneaks into the bedroom, smiling. The shower is audibly running. Sam sits on the bed, shuts his eyes, and flops onto his back.

Blood drips onto Sam's forehead, one drop, then another; he flinches and opens his eyes. He gasps in horror: Jess is pinned to the ceiling, staring down at him and bleeding from the belly.

John stands, his 3/4 bowl of popcorn falling on the floor. Rumsfield, who had been lurking, jumped at the chance.

"Aw, Hell No!"

Sam: No!

Jess bursts into flame; the fire spreads across the ceiling.

Dean kicks the front door open.

Dean: Sam!

"... Didn't you just drive away?"

Sam raises one arm to shield his face.

Sam: Jess!

Dean comes running into the bedroom.

Dean: Sam! Sam!

Dean looks up and sees Jess.

Sam: No! No!

Dean grabs Sam off the bed and bodily shoves him out the door, Sam struggling all the way.

Sam: Jess! Jess! No!

Flames engulf the apartment.

In a scene much like the end of the flashback, a fire truck is parked outside the building, firemen and police keeping back gawkers. Dean looks on, then turns and walks back to his car. Sam is standing behind the open trunk, loading a shotgun. Dean looks at the trunk, then at Sam, whose face is set in a mask of desperate anger. Sam looks up, then sighs, nods, and tosses the shotgun into the trunk.

Sam: We got work to do.

Sam shuts the trunk.

John, Bobby, and Dean all look sadly at the youngest of the boys.

Bobby picked up another disk. A paper fell out.

"'Dear Winchesters and Singer, my name is Gabriel. As you may have already started, I shall warn you that the disks are random episodes and not in order at all. Sorry! Trickster, you see. But Sammy-or as I call him, Moose-trusts me to send this to you in one piece. But I sure hope you started with 'Pilot'. Sorry, but it's in my nature to screw up something.'"

They all blinked.