Supernatural
"Careful What You Wish For"
Season 9, Episode 14A
Dean's text reads "SOS. St. Regis, Indy, Suite 1600."
Dr. Catherine Carson is moving quickly down the hallway at the St. Regis Hotel looking for the right room. Hesitant to knock, she pulls her lock pick from her back pocket and enters the room as quietly as possible, pistol in one hand, her medical backpack in the other.
The hotel suite looks ransacked, almost as if a huge fraternity party had been held there... empty liquor, champagne and wine bottles everywhere, food boxes and used plates, porn magazines, clothes... and in the center of it all, two dead bodies on the ground.
As horrific as the scene appears, Chase is actually relieved to see neither body belongs to a Winchester. She checks each for a pulse, but nothing. "Holy Hell," she whispers as she stands, looking around for signs of Sam and Dean. "You're half right," says the voice behind her. She spins and Crowley is standing in the doorway to the bedroom, looking more like hell than like the King of Hell. "What's up, Doc?"
Supernatural title animation
The Bunker
While Sam searches for a new case on his laptop, Dean, carrying the Mark of Cain and solely interested in finding the First Blade, wanders into the Library while trying to reach Crowley, leaving message after message on his cell phone. "Crowley, where the hell are you?" "Crowley! Call me."
Sam is silently irritated over the inexplicable, odd bond developing between his brother and the King of Hell. Then, Dean's phone rings. It's Crowley's number. Dean flashes Sam the phone which reads, 'Incoming Call 666'. "Speak of the Devil," says Dean as he answers. Then into the phone, "Where the hell have you been?"
"Dean?" It's a woman's voice. It takes Dean a second to recognize it. "Chase?!" Dean is immediately concerned. "You're with Crowley?" "It's a long story. St. Regis, Indianapolis. Room 1600. Come as soon as you can."
Dean kicks in the door to the suite and the boys rush in, only to find Crowley in black silk pajamas, sitting on the couch with his slippered feet up on the coffee table and a daytime soap on television. "Hello, boys." Sam and Dean shoot each other a bewildered look. "Ah-oh. Precious is not going to be happy when she sees that," says Crowley, referring to the broken door frame.
"Where the hell is she, Crowley? If you hurt her..." growls Dean. At that moment, the French doors to the bedroom open and Chase walks out, passing a brush through her freshly washed hair, acting casual and comfortable as if nothing about this situation is in the least bit strange.
Sam and Dean are beyond confused.
"Seriously?" she says, looking at the door. "Knocking wasn't an option?"
"Told ya," says Crowley, while still watching TV.
"You mind telling us what the hell is going on?" shoots Dean at Chase. "Sure, if you ask nicely," answers Chase. Sam just raises his eyebrows. Crowley turns the volume down on the TV. "Who needs Days of our Lives when we have the two of you?"
"Shut up!" Both Dean and Chase say in his direction in synchronicity.
Dean and Chase are off in a corner of the suite and Dean is fuming. "Let me see if I've got this straight...you and Crowley have been shacked up here, going on six days?!" asks Dean in a very accusatory way.
"Don't take that tone with me. I've had a hell of a week. Literally!" says Chase, as she glances toward the bedroom where Crowley is changing. Dean fights to maintain his composure and ask in a less volatile manner... "OK. You wanna tell me why?"
"I got a SOS from your number. When I got here, I found him. He was sick and he asked me to treat him."
"He's a demon, and you're a hunter," says Dean. "Did you even consider just killing him?"
"I'm also a doctor. But, yes, killing him crossed my mind. Then, I decided I was better off making a deal."
"You decided to negotiate... with the King of Hell!?" asks Sam.
"I'd fix him up if he returned my research memories, everything he erased 2 years ago."
"He agreed to that?" asks Sam.
"He took a little coaxing, but yeah. Now, he's better and I have everything I used to know safe and sound, back up here." Chase taps her temple. Dean looks at Sam, slightly impressed. "Besides, Crowley tells me you two are thick as thieves now. Showed me all the texts and missed phone calls. Care to explain that turn of events?" Sam shoots Dean a 'told you so' look and Dean responds to Chase, "Not really…" then changes the subject. "What's wrong with him anyway?" asks Dean. "He's addicted to human blood. He says you're to blame, Sam." Sam opens his mouth to explain, but she stops him, "I don't even want to know. Whatever you did, I'm sure he had it coming."
Chase looks around the room. "By the time I got here he was dropping bodies and bleeding them dry. You wanna know what's worse than the King of Hell? A vampy King of Hell. So, I cleaned up his mess, stole some O Negative from a local blood bank and I have been weaning him off the stuff ever since."
"Why didn't you just 'cold turkey' his ass?" asks Dean.
"He's a douche when he's healthy, imagine what he would be like if he was going thru withdrawals."
"I heard that," yells Crowley from the other room.
Chase starts packing her things. She speaks quietly so Crowley can't hear. "The point is he's better, at least for the time being. I held up my end, now he's your problem."
"What are we supposed to do with him?!" grunts Dean.
"Frankly, I don't give a damn."
Dean comes back into the suite, having walked Chase to her car, just as Crowley emerges in his signature tailored suit. "Where's Florence Nightingale?" he asks.
"She left," says Dean.
"You let her go! What's wrong with you?!" snaps Crowley, looking at Dean.
"You tricked her into coming here in the first place," shoots back Sam sharply.
"Just when I think you two can't get any dumber. Why do you think I brought her here? Why do you think I agreed to give her back her memory? I was buttering her up! (Rolls his eyes, frustrated) "Your girlfriend knows the location of the First Blade."
"What?!" says Dean.
"She doesn't exactly know that she knows, but she has access to the information."
"How?" asks Sam.
"When I was searching for the Blade… that was no longer at the bottom of the ocean, by the way... I followed its trail through Africa to Central Europe and finally to the States, where it goes cold in the early 1960s. After that, only one name keeps coming up, Professor Robert Carson."
"Chase's dad," says Dean.
"...and the world's foremost expert on Cain," continues Crowley. "He kept journals, manuscripts, prophecies, and historical ledgers... some of which date back to biblical times ...and he has notes tracking the Blade after it arrived in the Colonies in the early part of the 19th century. I was working at getting Dr. Feelgood to warm up to me so I could get to those records."
"Or... you could have told me what you knew and I would have asked her," suggests Dean.
"Where's the fun in that?" says Crowley.
Suburban Chicago
A day later
Chase is working in her home office, curled up on a small couch in sweatpants and a half T-shirt, as comfortable as it gets. She's head down in a medical journal, reading and highlighting sections like she did back in med school. Only this time it's all about her demon blood research. She has the knowledge of her past research back in her head, so she's recommitted to the effort of finding a way to instantaneously expel a demon from its human host while sparing the vessel's life.
She has a bottle of wine open next to her. She pours what's left into her glass, looks at the empty bottle and uses that sad sight as an excuse to stretch her legs.
In the kitchen, she pulls out a new bottle from the refrigerator, but when she closes the door and turns around, Dean is directly in front of her, leaning against the archway. She's so startled she drops the wine bottle and it shatters. "Dammit! Dean! What the hell?!" "You gave me a key," he answers. He pulls it from his pocket and places it on the counter. "OK, yes...but I'm home. My car's in the driveway. Again, knocking works." He simply smirks. He enjoys getting under her skin. "Never mind," she says exasperated, as she hands him a beer out of the fridge. "How's Crowley?"
"We haven't stabbed him in the throat yet, if that's what you're asking."
"So what's wrong? Why are you here?"
"Something has to be wrong?" he asks.
"Something usually is," she answers as she is pulling a broom out of her kitchen closet.
"I need to go through your father's journals. I'm looking for information and I think his books might help."
"'Course." She moves past him between the sink and the island to show him to her den. The movement brings them closer than they have been in a long time. "They're in here." As she walks him to the den and points out the shelves containing her father's books and belongings, she says, "You're welcome to whatever you need, but if you tell me what this is about I might be able to help narrow the search."
"It's about this," Dean pushes back his right sleeve and shows her the Mark of Cain on his forearm. Chase stares at it for a long moment as the blood rushes from her face. Dean moves toward her and she backs up until her backside hits her desk. "You know what this is, don't you?" She can't find the words and she's not sure she wants to. She just keeps staring at his arm. "Chase?"
She finally recognizes she's frozen in front of him...a thousand thoughts running through her head... none of them good. Dean reaches her and she pulls her pistol off her desk, cocks the gun and points it directly at him. "I need you to go. Now." She says with a calm determination.
"What?!"
"Did that sound like a suggestion? Get the hell out... Or, I swear to God, I'll put a bullet in your brain."
"She threw me out," says Dean. He's sitting in the Impala outside her house on the phone with Sam, who's waiting back in a roadside motel.
"What! Why? What did you do?" asks Sam, knowing Dean can be incendiary.
"Nothing! As soon as she saw the Mark, she threatened to kill me."
"You're joking!"
"Do I sound like I'm joking, Sam?!" Dean is yelling into the phone. "She pointed a pistol at me. I'm telling you, she meant it."
"She's obviously spooked. We need to find out what she knows," responds Sam.
"Ya think?" agrees Dean, sarcastically. "If I go back in there, either she shoots me or I end up tying her to a chair."
Adds Sam, "Neither of which is healthy for your relationship."
"Tying her up has crossed my mind once or twice…" Dean smirks, then shakes it off.
"TMI, Dean," responds Sam.
There's a knock at Chase's front door. She's on edge since seeing Dean hours earlier. When she approaches the door, she has her pistol in hand. She moves the curtain then pauses a moment to think. Chase opens the heavy wooden and glass entry door only far enough to see his face, and leaves the screen locked. "Sam. Is Dean with you?"
"No. Chase, what the hell?"
She unlocks the screen and opens it to allow Sam inside. Turns her back to him and leads him into her living room from the front hall.
There's a half empty Jameson's bottle on the coffee table, surrounded by dozens of books, ancient manuscripts and several of her dad's journals that she's pulled from the shelves. The place looks like a ransacked library.
"How long has he had it, the Mark?" she asks, pointedly, as she pours what is clearly not her first shot of whiskey this evening. Her hand is shaking.
"A few weeks," answers Sam as he waves off the bottle.
"Does he seem different?" She asks as she sits on the couch, holding her head in her hands.
"Different, how?" Sam isn't following, he sits down in the arm chair, facing her.
"You have no idea what that Mark will do to him, do you? You two couldn't be more reckless if it was your damn job." She is teary-eyed.
"Chase...just...tell me what you know."
"First, you tell me how he got it?"
"He and Crowley tracked down Cain."
"Why in God's name would they ever go looking for Cain?" She pours another shot.
"You might wanna slow down." He stands and moves her glass and the bottle from the coffee table to the bar a distance away. "They were looking for the First Blade to put down a Knight of Hell. Talk to me. What do you know that we don't?"
"Sam, that Mark doesn't just power the First Blade. According to everything ever written, it's a curse on the person who possesses it. It feeds on death, it will provoke Dean to kill...the more he kills, the more the Mark will demand that he kill again. Until..."
"Until what?"
"Until, Dean isn't Dean anymore. To us, he'll be a monster."
"There's no way... that's not possible..."
"My father taught a course on the origin of man for years at Notre Dame. He was obsessed with the story of Cain and Abel. He used to spend hours staring at that symbol in books. He believed Cain was still alive somewhere on Earth because the Mark wouldn't let him die. Everything is right here. I pulled it all out after Dean left."
Sam sits and begins flipping through the books. She's pacing nervously and explaining the lore as quickly as she can pour out the words. "Cain made a deal with the Devil. When God cast out Adam and Eve from the Garden, He was angry at humanity for failing him. Lucifer saw God's disgrace as an opportunity and began to court Adam and Eve's sons. He convinced Cain to kill Abel with that blade. After that kill, Cain joined the Devil in Hell as his lieutenant. He and the other Knights of Hell ravaged the Earth for centuries, destroying anything, anyone Lucifer told them to."
"Yeah, but Lucifer isn't around to influence Dean."
"Crowley is! Don't you get it, Crowley is looking for his own Lieutenant."
"Son of a bitch!" Sam whispers.
"That Mark...Sam... Cain's carried it since the dawn of time. No other human, until Dean, has ever held the Mark. Cain was already a demon when Lucifer branded him... there's no telling what it will do to your brother... but these books... they paint a terrifying picture."
Sam has been pouring through Chase's books for hours, reading everything she's explained and becoming more and more afraid for Dean.
The images describe a descent into maniacal behavior, monstrous and murderous tendencies, and an eventual submission to total, unadulterated demonic behavior. "There has to be a way to keep the Mark from consuming him."
Chase is pacing and reading from an old manuscript she's translated using her father's books..."'Whoever bears the Mark cannot be killed, except by their Maker, their Made, or the Mark itself. No being on Heaven or Earth shall cast the Mark from its intended without unleashing universal darkness." "What the hell does that mean?" "Who knows. It's from an obscure manuscript written hundreds of years ago by a Vatican investigator who studied Lucifer's power on Earth."
"We can't tell Dean any of this," implores Sam. "He can't know. He thinks I'm here looking for clues about where to find the First Blade."
"I know exactly where it is," says Chase as she scrambles through all the materials on the coffee table to find the exact one. "Here... A Man of Letters, Cuthbert Sinclair, had it last. He was the Order's so-called 'Master of Spells'. But he was cast out in 1956 because he became a powerful Sorcerer that the Men of Letters couldn't control. My father met with him once in the early 70s in a place Sinclair called his 'zoo'," shares Chase as she passes Sam the journal, turned to that particular page. "Dad's notes say the Blade was on display there at the time."
"How did your father know about the Men of Letters?"
"My grandfather was recruited by the group in the 30s?"
"He was a member of the Men of Letters?!"
"A founding member. My father on the other hand declined to take up the mantle when it was his turn. He was in love. He wanted to marry, raise a family. All of that seemed implausible as a Man of Letters. He wrote it all down in a diary I found after his death."
"That makes you a legacy..." Sam whispers to himself.
"A what?"
"I'll explain later. Any idea where Sinclair is now?"
"I have the coordinates where my father found him."
"Great!"
"Sam, if Dean touches that Blade, even once, it will take hold of him like an addiction. There may be no coming back from that."
"Give me the coordinates, I'll get the blade. Meanwhile, you scour this material for a way to remove the Mark and destroy the Blade once we've taken Abaddon out."
"I'll do what I can."
"Thank you."
"Sam...he shouldn't hunt. The more Dean kills while he's carrying the Mark, the more he will crave killing."
"Yeah, understood."
As Sam walks to the door, he stops and turns. "You know, the way you reacted earlier, it threw him for a loop. He's still Dean. He's still my brother. And you're one of a small circle of people he actually trusts."
"Tell him I'm sorry."
"Tell him yourself," responds Sam.
Once Sam leaves, Chase sits on her couch in front of all the open books to start again. But then she just stops. She has an idea. "Catherine, don't do anything stupid." She says to herself, she pauses one more moment, grabs her keys and heads for the door.
As it's nearly 3am, Sam enters the motel room quietly. Dean is lying on top of his bed asleep in the dark. As Sam slowly moves through the room, Dean flips on the light. "Well?" Dean looks at the tabletop clock. "You were there forever. What's she know?"
"Not as much as you might think. Her dad had some books. I sat there and read. Not all that useful, actually. I think this might be a dead end," says Sam, downplaying everything.
"Seriously?! Crowley was pretty certain. And, what about how she reacted to me when she saw the Mark?"
"She remembered the symbol from her father's theology textbooks. It spooked her, that's all. She's fine now."'
"Really."
"Yeah, that's what she said. She wants to apologize. You should go back over in the morning.
"Huh." Dean is skeptical.
Just before dawn, Chase is standing at a makeshift alter in an abandoned building on Chicago's south side...armed, tense... and waiting on the demon she's just conjured.
"We could have met for a nice dinner, someplace with a little ambiance...one that doesn't scream homeless shelter," says Crowley, as he wipes his hands of imaginary filth while surveying their surroundings.
"This is far from a social call, Crowley."
"What's wrong, Kitten? Tell Uncle Crowley."
"You played him."
"No. He was determined. He practically demanded the Mark from Cain. Look, when your...well, whatever he is to you...gets a bug up his backside, there's just no talking him out of anything. You know that. Good news is, I know a rather charming Scotsman..."
"Why did you take him to Cain?"
"I was merely the sidekick."
"You're nobody's sidekick. You're a master manipulator. I think you cooked up this entire thing so you could have a powerful new playmate."
Crowley gets irritated by her perceptiveness. "You have been taking some dangerous cues from those brothers. You summon me, make outlandish accusations, and expect what? I don't answer to you! (He's circling her like she's prey.) I am the King of Hell! I can have whoever, whatever, whenever I want." She's frightened into silence. Crowley continues, "Of the two of us, sweetheart, I am not the one whose deepest, darkest desire is Dean Winchester." She scoffs as if Crowley is all wrong. "And, here's what you refuse to accept," continues Crowley, in her face.) "Dean knows what he is. He's a serial killer. He's just spent his life choosing his victims from among monsters and demons...but, soon, he won't be so particular. Take my advice and get out of the way of the inevitable explosion."
"Can he be saved?" She asks, emotionless.
"Saved? I think you summoned from the wrong direction... you wanted to look up, not down. That's not my area, Precious. Besides, you can't change the plan, Dean won't let you."
"What is the plan?"
"We find the blade, we find Abaddon, and Dean uses it to destroy her."
Chase pauses to consider her options...
"Then, can I make one suggestion?"
When Chase gets back to her house the sun has been up a while. She sees the Impala at the curb and Dean sitting on the front stoop. She takes a deep breath, steps out of the car, medical satchel in hand so he thinks she's coming from the hospital. "Late night?" he asks. "Early morning," she answers as she sits down next to him. They're both looking out on her picturesque residential street. She waves at a neighbor walking his dog.
"I'm sorry," she says.
"You stuck a gun in my face."
"In my defense, I recall you doing something similar to me." Dean thinks about it. She's right. He did do that.
"Sam says the journals were helpful."
"Really, I didn't get that impression." (Knowing very well he's trying to manipulate her.) "Want some breakfast?" She asks as she puts her hand on his shoulder, rises from the stoop and heads inside.
Sam is praying for Castiel. He needs all the advice and support he can get.
"What's wrong, Sam?" asks Castiel from behind him.
"Cas, how do we remove the Mark?"
"We don't. At least not yet."
"What?!"
"Not a one of us has a clue how... or if... we can remove the Mark. And Dean won't even consider it until he kills Abaddon, so we're wasting our time worrying about it right now. The sooner you find the First Blade and Abaddon, the sooner we can tackle that problem."
"He's right, you know. Abaddon should be our first concern." Crowley just appeared in the motel room.
"You don't get a vote, Crowley!" says Sam, angry that he led Dean down this path in the first place.
"Does Dean?" retorts Crowley. He knows every moment the Mark is a part of Dean his bloodlust grows and it's already started changing him, so he tells them both what they want to hear. "We have a lead on the Blade. You want this over. The only way out is through."
Chase puts a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Dean. As she does, she notices the Mark peaking out from under his shirt sleeve. "You eat," she says, trying to be nonchalant about the uncomfortable feeling that washes over her. "I need a shower."
Afterward, she's standing, wrapped in a large towel at the counter in her bathroom, staring into the mirror. Who is she kidding? Every time she's near him her feelings grow stronger, even though he doesn't have the capacity for the same. And now, against every shred of common sense she has, in spite of every fact she knows about the path he's on... she still can't shake it. She's in such a staring contest with herself she doesn't even realize Dean is leaning against the doorframe behind her. "You ok?" he asks, knowing the Mark spooked her again.
"Yeah. Yes." she never turns around, just looks at him in the mirror.
"Really." There's no way he believes her. He moves closer and stands just behind her, watching in the mirror to see if she tenses up. "So if I do this..." he draws his finger down her bare arm, "your skin doesn't crawl?"
"No." She's trying to keep eye contact in the mirror for fear that if she breaks it he'll see the chink in her armor.
"If I do this..." he leans forward, moves her hair and kisses the back of her neck, "you don't cringe?" She shut her eyes when his lips touched her skin and opens them slowly, still frozen in front of the mirror. "No," she whispers, with a slight crack in her voice from the warmth that washed over her. Then he places his hand on her waist and turns her around. He kisses her lips. "And that...that doesn't give you the creeps?" he whispers. "Not even a little." She answers calmly.
"Dean," she says as she musters some fortitude and walks past him into her bedroom, "I think you're misreading this situation," she says, determined to show some self control. She turns and stares into his face.
"Am I?"
"I'm not afraid of you."
He raises an eyebrow, he knows she's lying. "In fact," she continues. "you're not even in control here. One move and you're at my mercy."
He laughs at her dare.
"Bring it," he says confidently.
She never takes her eyes off his face. She simply drops her towel to the ground. He looks at her, all of her. "You win," he says with a smile.
When she wakes up around midday, Dean is not beside her. She throws on a T-shirt and jeans, and heads downstairs to see if she can find him.
He's sitting on the couch in the den with the open whiskey bottle, and her father's journals and writings about the Mark of Cain and the Blade in front of him.
"No wonder you put a gun to my head." He says as she enters the room.
"Dean..." She wants to say something but she has no idea what.
"Sam read all of this?"
"He didn't want you to worry."
Dean shakes his head.
"I kept something from him, and he's been on a 'holier-than-thou, honesty is the only policy' crusade for months. But he lied to my face about what you had here…and so did you."
"It doesn't have to end the way my father describes it."
He slams a book shut on the table and Chase shutters at the noise.
"Don't! Don't lie anymore. Just tell me exactly what you told Sam about where to find the damn blade!"
Dean rolls up in Baby behind Sam's rental on a road in the woods. Crowley is there with Sam.
"Dean, you shouldn't be here."
"Really! You have the King of Hell as your wingman...but not your own brother. Sam, let's just do our job." They all head toward the open field.
"There's nothing here," says Crowley.
"Chase's father came to this spot and called out to Sinclair. Worth a try," says Sam. "Cuthbert Sinclair! We are Henry Winchester's grandsons…" snd Dean chimes in, "…and Men of Letters ourselves. We just want to talk."
Nothing happens and then suddenly smoke rises. Crowley points to it behind the boys. They walk toward it and are sucked into Sinclair's secret home.
Magnus, as he calls himself, is obsessed with everything supernatural and insanely bragging about his collection of monsters and supernatural artifacts. The boys mistakenly assume he'll want to help them tank a Knight of Hell. But, when Magnus realizes Dean carries the Mark of Cain, he banishes Sam and attempts to hold Dean against his will. He restrains Dean, puts the blade in his hand for the very first time and witnesses the power it evokes. Sam and Crowley work together to rescue Dean. And, Magnus is killed by Dean's own hand and the blade.
When they return to the car, Crowley overhears Sam suggesting they take the opportunity to end him, too. He flings the boys against the Impala with barely a flick of his wrist and takes the Blade that Sam has dropped on the ground. "When you find Abaddon, you can have the Blade. Until then, this stays with me."
"That was never the deal," grunts Dean.
"Ask the good doctor. She's the one who suggested this course of action to me, just this morning in fact." And, Crowley is gone. Dean is furious.
There's a knock on Chase's front door. She bounds down the staircase. She's been anxiously awaiting news about the blade.
Dean is standing out front, looking toward the street as he waits. She opens the door to let him in but he hands over her father's journal without even a glance and starts to walk away. Taking it, she realizes he is still furious that she kept information from him.
"Did you find it?"
He stops but doesn't turn around.
"We did."
"Did you hold it?"
"I used it…on Sinclair."
Her eyes close for a long moment. He knows even without looking at her that she's disappointed in him, but the vast divide between them now is so much bigger than that. She stands there considering simply letting him leave, but instead she walks out onto the porch. "Dean." He turns and looks back with a stoic face. Then, he advances aggressively, pissed off. "You told Crowley to take the Blade. Crowley?! You have more faith in the King of Hell than in me."
"It isn't like that."
"Please. Maybe your father's journals are right, Chase. Maybe I'll become the monster in those books. But, what happens next, shouldn't matter to you. Because this... (he motions at the two of them) ...whatever this was, it's over. You and me, we're done." He stares at her with disdain. She stares back in disbelief.
Chase raises her voice as he walks away. "You get that this is the Mark talking... It wants you isolated, detached, angry." He stops, "I don't need this Mark on my arm to know when I've been betrayed." He turns and starts walking down the stairs and toward the Impala.
She rushes around him. "Betrayed! Did you read the same stories I read in those journals?! I did it to protect you!" Dean looks at her coldly, "Keep telling yourself that." (It's the same thing she once said to him in anger when he made a decision for her that she didn't agree with.)
Dean starts down the walk toward the car. Chase says, "I guess you were right all along. You aren't the man I thought you were." He hesitates a moment at the car door, never looking back. Then, gets in the Impala, starts the engine and drives off. He takes one last look in his rear view at Chase standing frozen in time on her front walk.
Dean barrels through the door into the hotel room as Sam is packing. He grabs his duffel from the closet and starts filling it with his clothes. Sam finally says something. "How'd you leave things with Chase?"
"We're done."
"Why would you do that?"
"Why? Because she made a choice for me that I disagreed with. One she thought was in my best interest. Sound familiar?" Sam knows he's referring to Gadriel.
"I mean...isn't that what we do, you and me, when someone cares too much, gets too close, when they lay everything on the line, we second guess their choices and then we cut them loose." Dean's anger is all directed at Sam. "Dean." "Shut up, Sam. You bitched and moaned all this time about me keeping secrets, making choices for you. You droned on and on about how we can be partners, but not family anymore. You second guessed the decisions I made to save your life and you questioned my motives. Now, you turn around and hide the truth from me."
"I would have told you. I wanted some time back at the bunker to see what more I could learn about the Mark."
"Yeah, well, I might expect that from my brother... but you... we're not brothers, remember? So don't do me any favors." Dead heads for the car. Sam sits there realizing, maybe for the first time, how helpless Dean felt when his only solution was allowing an Angel to possess Sam, and wondering if they will ever truly be brothers again.
