10.15 The Things They Carried – Prewrite
Peoria, Illinois
Garth saunters up to the Gas-n-Sip. His tasseled leather Texas Ranger jacket is dirty and he is missing the cowboy hat. The store has a cheerful air, with an in-store juice bar. A large poster with a dog drawing on it dominates one window. "Take me to the Olympics!" the poster reads.
Garth steps inside to the sound of hip-hop music. The cashier smiles cheerfully as Garth walks to the counter. "Hi, are you here about that dog?"
"Yeah. I saw that video online!" Garth says, leaning on the counter with his arms spread wide.
"Oh yeah," the grinning teenager behind the counter says. "Whoever trained that dog was really amazing huh? They should totally make their living training dogs. That would be sooo awesome! We've got tons of people visiting because of that!"
"What about the guy who lost the wallet?"
"Oh he's ok. He cancelled all his cards and stuff. Too bad about his phone. Want a smoothie while you're waiting? The Dog Olympics training team is meeting at the juice bar in like 20 minutes."
A thin, nervous-looking man at the juice bar turns and looks at Garth.
Garth smiles cheerily, "Uh, yeah," Garth looks at the large menu above the counter, "Gimme a green dog brain stew!"
"Sure!" The teenager takes a large plastic cup and turns around to mix the smoothie.
Garth looks over at the juice bar, where the thin man is sitting. The man glances away. Garth takes his smoothie and slips some cash to the teen, "Thanks!" he says with a smile. Garth walks to the juice bar, making eye contact with the nervous man.
"Hey hombre." Garth smiles cheerily and takes a sip from his smoothie. "How's that blueberry blast?" Garth sits at the bar next to the man.
"Good." the man says, with a nod at Garth. Fleeting expressions run across his face.
"Garth," Garth reaches across his body to offer his hand to shake.
The man shakes Garth's hand.
"Good to meet ya. What brings you into these parts?"
"Work. Friend with a job."
"Business trip." Garth nods. "Drove up here to catch a few words with these dog compadres."
The man's fingers tap on his blueberry smoothie. "What business you in?"
"Hunting," Garth smiles. "And dentistry. I went back to it. A one-chair outfit back home in Wisconsin." He reaches into his pocket for business cards and hands one to the man.
The man nods. "You use dogs?"
"Oh nah. Hoping these guys will help me with a case down in St. Louis." Garth sips his smoothie. "Mmm, yeah. This is great!" Garth gets absorbed into drinking his smoothie.
The Bunker, Dean's Room
Dean sleeps on top of the bed. Sam enters the room quietly. He stands over Dean. After a long moment, he reaches out and puts the back of his hand to Dean's forehead.
Dean rolls over in bed, slapping Sam's hand away and reaching out for a bottle as he wakes up.
Sam grabs the bottle and moves it out of reach, glaring at Dean. "Dean. We need to talk." Sam sits down on the bed.
Dean groggily sits up, staring at Sam.
"I'm not." Sam looks around, frustrated. "Look," Sam turns and grabs clumsily at Dean's wrist. Sam uses the touch with Dean to boost the remnants of his psychic abilities. "I'm not as sharp as I used to be." Sam looks at Dean. "After the trials and Gadreel. I can't … think as well. I don't know how we're going to make it through this."
"Sammy, we white-knuckled it through the Apocalypse, Eve, leviathans, an angel civil war…" Dean says, giving Sam a look.
Still, sepia images of Dean's fight with Cain flash through Sam's mind, flickering between the words of Sam and Dean's conversation. In Sam's mind, he sees Dean drives the first blade through Cain's back. Cain looks up, laughing wildly. Dean slips the blade out of Cain's back. Sam tightens his grip on Dean's wrist, preventing Dean from pulling away. Cain and Dean face each other. Cain speaks silently. Sam cannot hear the words.
"Shut up!" Sam bursts out.
Dean looks at Sam.
"I always used to have a plan or some idea of what we needed to do. Even if I didn't tell you about it. Now … I don't know."
In his mind, Sam watches as Cain takes the amputated stump of his hand. Cain stands up. He presses the hand back to the stump of his wrist, sealing his hand and arm together. Cain and Dean face other. Cain leans forward, "I forgive you." Cain disappears.
"What?" Dean stares at Sam, with a concerned look.
"Dean! I need you. I need you to be my big brother. I need to count on you. Ideas don't just pop into my head like they used to. I'm not okay." Sam says, visibly upset.
In a vision, blood drips from Sam's forehead where Dean has shot him. Dean's hands flash to Sam's throat, crushing Sam's neck. Dean slams Sam onto the floor.
"You're not okay," Sam says.
Dean wrenches his wrist out of Sam's weakened grasp and stands up abruptly, hiding his face from Sam.
Sam gets up and walks away, swinging the door shut behind him.
Outside of Springfield, Illinois
Looking between the trees and bushes, a thin man in a dirty Texas ranger jacket sits with his back to a tree. Two armed men stalk closer to him.
Garth speaks into his cell phone with an uncharacteristically serious voice, "Yeah, I love you too baby." He pauses while the other person talks. "I need some help out here. The EMF meter was firing everywhere… They flipped the bulldozer over. I'm out near Springfield, didn't make it to the car." Garth pauses. "Nah, the dog's no big deal. He's from the St. Louis sleeper cell. I'll track him down while I'm waiting for y'all to come down. His packmates told me about the trouble he's been into. Oh, they're the ones who gave me the low-down on the ghosts."
Hidden in the bushes, Cole looks at a slight, alert man holding a rifle.
"They're in the power lines, the wi-fi, hey that reminds me…"
The man stares at Garth. It's the man from the juice bar.
Garth takes a deep breath, sniffing the air. "Yeah, call 'em for me, will ya? Check on those rutabagas." Garth slips his phone into a pocket. Taking another deep breath, he starts running.
The thin man takes out a tracking device from his pocket. A dot moves off rapidly.
"You didn't take a shot?" Cole comments mildly.
"He's a talker. We need more intel." The man has a serious look, "The way he moved. Too fast, Trenton. Like that demon you told me about. Super powers."
"No man, it's not Dean-o. He looks different."
"Yeah. We don't know man. Can change his face around." The man laughs nervously.
Cole glances at him.
"Hey I came with you man. I'm your buddy. We don't walk out on each other. No matter how crazy it gets." The man gives Cole a sharp look, then breaks into a nervous giggle.
The Bunker
Dean walks into the main room, dressed in fresh clothes. Castiel stands behind Sam, looking at a laptop screen.
"Dean, look at this," Sam says, looking up from the screen with an intense stare. Sam starts playing a black and white security video.
Gas-n-Sip, East St. Louis, Illinois, Security video
The black-and-white screen shows a German Shepard slipping into the large convenience store behind a burly man.
A tall man leans against the counter, a large drink container and a bag of groceries in front of him. One hand holds a cell phone to his ear, with the other hand the man takes his wallet and starts to slip it into his pocket, turning away from the cashier.
The dog dashes up, leaps and grabs the man's cell phone in its mouth, then runs for the door. The security monitor flickers.
The tall man recoils, knocking his wallet and drink on the floor. "Hey!" The customers and the cashier stare at the dog in disbelief.
The dog jumps wildly around, dropping the broken cell phone. The flickering stops. Standing on his hind legs, the dog grabs the grocery bag from the counter, and runs outside.
Bunker
Sam, Dean, and Castiel watch the video.
"Bess called. It's went viral a few weeks back," Sam says.
"What?" Dean asks.
"A lot of people are watching this thing, Dean."
"Not exactly tulpa material." Dean looks at the dog. It looks similar, but different than Lucky, the skinwalker they had met four years ago when Eve was active.
"The dog is from one of the skinwalker sleeper cells. Garth's tracking him down." Sam changes tabs on the browser. "Pet deaths all over the city. Water contamination suspected. Disappearance of Canada geese calls into question city's pesticide use in public parks. City Wildlife decimated."
"So what, a skinwalker sleeper cell got chased out of St. Louis by what .. an angry army of anti-PETA ghosts?" Dean asks.
Sam looks at Dean. "Maybe. A lot of the souls trapped in the veil didn't make it to Heaven. Garth's been handling it." Sam pauses. "He asked for help before. I was .. busy looking for you." Sam looks at Dean.
Castiel frowns.
Dean looks down for a moment. "The skinwalker was attacking the cell phone."
Castiel speaks, "I have been remiss. It was not my duty in the garrison to guide trapped souls to Heaven. However, as the only angel remaining in the garrison, I should be the one guiding them. At least until the others reorganize. If they can spare the soldiers from guarding Heaven." Castiel paces. "I killed so many," he says, his voice full of grief. "So many more died in the fighting."
"Cass. What's done is done."
"That's not good enough, Dean." Castiel answers sharply. "If Heaven is breached, and souls that belong there are enslaved …"
"Enslaved by what?" Dean asks.
"A variety of multi-dimensional beings exist who eat souls or use them as power sources. These threats exist within our universe as well as in alternate universes or dimensions."
"Like .. leprechauns?" Deans asks.
"Well, yes, one of them. Those are unlikely to breach the gates and walls of Heaven. The garrison would handle their incursions, blocking them so they can only enter here if summoned by a human. When we last walked the earth 2000 years ago, we would also interfere with extra-dimensional summoning spells."
"Great," Dean says sarcastically, "So you're saying, we're even more screwed than we thought we were. Not just us, every soul in Heaven and on earth."
"Yes," Castiel answers. "That is an accurate statement."
Peoria, Illinois
Night.
"Trenton. Look at the way he's moving."
Cole glances at the laptop in the nervous man's lap. He starts the car and drives down a dark roadway.
"He's closing in. Springdale Cemetery and Mausoleum," the man says. "Right up ahead."
Cole turns the jeep onto the dark road leading to the parking lot of the funeral home, headlights turned off. A dimly seen figure runs across their field of view. Cole slams the car to a stop. He jumps out of the car and sprints after the running figure, drawing his gun and a flashlight. Cole pants as he rounds the corner of the building. The figure slips behind the far wall of the funeral home. Snarls explode from behind the wall. The snarls turn to whimpers and stop. He swings wide around the edge of the building.
A thin figure pins a scraggly man down on the paved walkway with one hand. A plastic garden spray pump rolls on the ground with a loud, clattering noise. Garth looks up, "Woah there. Are you a hunter?"
"Yeah I am," Cole lies.
"What are you loaded with?"
"Hollow-points. Better stopping power, less ricochet." Cole says.
"Uh huh, Don't pick fights you're not going to win. Theft's not up for the death penalty y'know, even in Texas." Garth handles the man easily, hauling him to his feet. Cole looks on, puzzled. Garth flashes his Texas Ranger Badge at Cole.
The skinwalker shivers. "Please don't hurt me," he pleads.
"Keep your nose clean and keep me up on all the latest news around here." Garth hands the skinwalker a business card. "Go on. Your family'll be worried about you. You break the law again and I'll be back for you," Garth says confidently.
The skinwalker nods, taking Garth's card. He transforms into a dog, streaking off into the night.
Cole looks on, startled at the transformation. He lowers his gun as the skinwalker runs.
Garth laughs cheerily. "Name's Garth," he says, holding out his hand to Cole.
"Cole." Cole shakes hands with Garth. "What's the sprayer for?"
Garth clasps Cole's hand warmly. "Glad to meet you," Garth says. "Skinwalkers. They hate most perfumes. A lot of them will transform to get the smell out of their noses. What got you into hunting?"
"A monster killed my father," Cole says tersely.
Garth nods, a grim look crossing his face, "Sorry." Garth clasps Cole on the shoulder. "Are you still hunting him?"
"No." Cole answers.
"You ever hunt ghosts?" Garth asks.
"No," Cole says.
"I been out a while. The ghosts brought me back in. A lot of souls got trapped in the veil last year when the angels were having their war. Burning their bones releases the spirit." Garth looks at Cole's reaction. "I could use some help down in St. Louis."
"You trust me to back you up?"
"Uh huh. Hunters don't have to be human. What are you?" Garth asks simply.
"What do you mean?" Cole says.
"You smell foxy." Garth sniffs. "Almost like a kitsune. They eat pituitary glands. What does your…"
Cole sneers defensively, "I'm no monster," he interrupts Garth rudely. He points his gun at Garth.
Garth looks at Cole levelly. "Your mom or dad might have been one. Doesn't mean they were monsters." Garth looks at Cole. Moving slowly, Garth takes out a business card and hands it to Cole. "If you want to talk to me about it. Call me." he says. Garth picks up the sprayer. He starts to walk off.
BANG! Cole fires his gun, just missing Garth's head as Garth flinches. "You ain't going anywhere, boy. We're gonna have a nice long talk."
"Woah, woah!" Garth holds up his hands. "We were having a talk. You the one who wanted it to stop."
"I didn't give you permission to stop." Cole sneers.
"When you point a gun at a person it's telling them to go away." Garth says lightly, as he turns around to face Cole. "And no one needs permission to stop talking. Everybody's got a right to walk away."
"Shut up!" Cole bellows over Garth's words.
"Monsters aren't whats running in your blood. Monsters are in people's heads. They're made by the things you choose to carry with you. What you remember, what you pick up on and don't, what you think, what you do. It's thinking you can't have a nice talk without pulling out a gun on a person you're having a nice talk with and..." Garth throws the sprayer at Cole and dodges. As Cole fires, Garth dashes forward in a blur. He yanks the gun out of Cole's grip and throws it onto the roof of the funeral home. With his other hand, he pushes Cole back. Cole stumbles and falls. The flashlight falls, illuminating the nervous man half-kneeling with a pistol levelled at Garth's back. Garth runs away.
Cole lies gasping on the ground. The sprayer bottle of perfume clatters as it rolls back and forth on the pavement.