The Road So Far

The Mark of Cain brings out violent urges, super-strength and speed and precognitive abilities in Dean, along with working to prevent Dean from dying. Recently, a witch transformed Dean into a 14-year old, removing the Mark of Cain. Dean used the hex bag to transform into his adult, Marked body to fight the witch. The hex bag was destroyed. Sam is determined to remove the Mark and wants to recreate the witch's hex bag. Cain, the original bearer of the Mark, began killing people and Dean fought him. During the fight, Cain tells Dean that the Mark curses Dean to kill those he thinks of as brothers: Crowley, Castiel, and Sam. Dean has given up on removing the Mark. Charlie is in Spain, tracking down a lead. Castiel is searching for his lost Grace.

Season 10 Episode 15, The Things They Carried.

Fayetteville, North Carolina

Water drips into a pan. A man's ugly, scarred, peeling face enters the water. He guzzles the liquid desperately.

A woman's long, dark, coarse, curly hair dangles from her head. She hangs upside-down from the ceiling.

A blurry, upside-down image of a man walks towards her. He is outlined against the light of a large bay window.

The woman's hands are tied with yellow zip ties. Muffled whimpers of terror escape her duct-taped mouth. She is a fit young woman dressed in gym shorts and a gray tank top. Her bare legs are scraped and she looks around in terror.

The scarred man walks down a hallway towards the woman. She sees his army pants and boots with blurry vision. He carries an old white paint bucket. In one hand, he carries two shock rods. The woman writhes and grunts, trying to headbutt the scarred man. He sets the paint bucket down. With a grunt, he takes one rod into each hand and stabs the woman with the prongs. Her body shakes, then goes limp. He lets go of the rods. They drop on the floor with a loud clatter. The scarred man braces her head against his knee. He draws a large knife and slashes her throat. Bright blood splatters into the white bucket. The man cups his left hand and catches the falling blood in his hand. Bending down, he drinks.

The Bunker, Dean's Room

Dean sleeps on top of the bed. His teenaged body looks small in the double 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. Knock it off. You're a kid. 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 driving 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," Sam rambles on as he watches the visions he's taking from Dean's memories.

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. 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. Glaring at Dean, he says, "I brought Jacob back. Amy's son. He's been on the streets for the past three years. Where do you think he been getting pituitary glands from? Do you know how many homeless kids he's killed?!" Sam pauses, "Why did you do it, Dean?" Sam pleads.

Dean only answers Sam with his silence.

Sam walks away, swinging the door shut behind him.

Dean turns around, a sick look on his face. He picks up his gun and walks towards the dungeon, moving stiffly like his body aches.

"Dean," Tina's light, childish voice calls out. Her eyes flick to the handle of Dean's gun, sticking out of the top of Dean's jeans.

"Tina." Dean turns around to face Tina. He forces a smile. "You ok?" he asks.

"Yeah. Sam rescued me." Tina's sick grimace matches Dean's face. "He killed a witch. Shot him. Burned him and my photo to break the spell keeping me inside. The building burned down."

"Hah. That's a little rash for Sammy," Dean says by way of explanation. "Seeing Jacob ...," Dean stops. He looks at Tina's pale face.

"Who are you Dean? It's like I walked into a nightmare," Tina says calmly.

"It's a long story," Dean says.

"I've got plenty of time and you've got plenty of whiskey," Tina retorts.

Dean tries to quirk a smile, "We're both a little young for that now."

"Not for long," Tina says, her hand pressing on her stomach. "Sam's got what he needs to turn us back."

Dean looks at her. "You hungry?" he asks with concern.

"Haven't eaten for a few days. It comes back up. Sam says it's the spell. Surprised you're not feeling anything," Tina responds.

Dean frowns, his brows knotted. "Maybe, now that you mention it," he says. His left hand moves to his forearm and touches the Mark of Cain.

"So, what the hell's going on?" Tina asks.

Dean pauses. "Come on," he says, walking stiffly back inside his room. Dean sits down on the foot of the bed. Tina sits down next to him. Staring ahead, without looking at Dean, Tina says, "Sam had Jacob's body in the trunk. The kids I was with, they took off as soon as they could get away."

Dean stares ahead, not looking at Tina. He answers calmly, "Jacob's a kitsune. They need to eat pituitary glands. His mom had a nice setup going. Mortician. Steady supply and she didn't need to kill for em." Dean pauses. "I killed her." Dean wets his lips. "She was .. uh .. Sam's girlfriend. He found out she was killing humans. Her son Jacob was sick and needed fresher glands. It was just ... heh," Dean laughs. "I don't know what it was," Dean looks at Tina. "Just when things were better. Sammy had his soul back, I didn't need to dance around a monster shaped like my brother, and there he goes behind my back again." Dean smiles a large, fake grin. His hand rubs the Mark of Cain on his forearm. "Heh ..."

Tina stares dully ahead. Dean's face twists in concern. "Hey," he says, putting his arm around Tina's shoulders. Tina leans into Dean, her head rolling a little. Dean lifts her thin body easily, and lays her on the bed with her head on the pillow. She blinks up at Dean.

"Hey, stay with me. I get nightmares now," Tina whispers.

Dean sits back down on the bed. Tina curls up against his back. "Who are you? How'd it all start?"

Dean glances at her. "It's a long story. Started before we was born. The angels and demons ... bred mom and dad. A cupid shot em to make em fall in love. I was there ... when she made a deal with a demon to save dad's life in exchange for letting it feed Sam demon blood," Dean says, "Mom got out of hunting and she had us, two-pack of angel condoms for the Apocalypse. Me for Michael, and Sammy for Lucifer..."

Tina breathes shallowly, her eyes closed. Her face is pale. Dean gets up, then turns off the light. He leaves the room and shuts the door quietly behind him.

The Bunker's Main Room

Sam works at his laptop. Dean walks stiffly into the room. "What's going on with Tina?" Dean asks.

"Tina's sick, side effects from the transformation spell. That witch only intended the transformations to last long enough to slaughter y'all." Sam says, his face rigid with tension. "We should undo that spell today." A battered cardboard package is ripped open on the large desk in front of Sam.

"Huh. She's asleep in my room." Dean says. "I'll do myself first." Dean walks over to pull out a plastic bag from the package.

"Don't take too long. I found us a case," Sam glance back at his laptop screen.

Night, The Impala

The Impala zooms down a dark country highway. Dean's hand rests on the steering wheel. He is back in his adult body. He looks over to see Sam staring at his iphone.

"Hey, they caught the killer. Rick Willis. Set himself on fire. Poured gasoline all over himself then lit himself up," Sam says in a distant voice.

"Huh," Dean says. "What else does it say?"

Sam ignores Dean, his tired, baggy eyes on his phone.

"Sam. I know what you're doing. We are not harvesting the tender hearts of a loving mother and a newborn child born under a blue moon to remake that hex bag for a transformation spell. And even if we did, the spell goes wrong within weeks."

Sam glances up at Dean. "We could modify the spell, heart from a newborn calf ... we can test it. The hex bag would buy us time..." Sam pleads in an exhausted voice.

"Sam! We're on a job. Head in the game," Dean says.

Sam sighs.

Fayetteville, North Carolina.

A man slams shut the back doors to a white van, lettered with Fayetteville Pest Predators, Extermination Services. The white van drives off into the foggy, drizzly morning.

Dean glances at the white van, then walks down the busy downtown sidewalk to the Fayetteville Municipal Hall. Several of the pedestrians are dressed in military fatigues.

Dean walks into the building. Five people stand behind a reception desk, two are dressed in uniform. The counter is dominated by a clearly homemade chocolate cake, the filling oozing out the sides. A bald older man in uniform turns to look at Dean. In one hand, he holds a blue paper plate with the remains of cake on it.

"That's some fine looking cake," Dean says with a hopeful grin.

The man half-laughs. "No, it's mighty tasty, my partner made it," the nameless police officer says. "She put pie filling in the middle there. It's her secret ingredient."

Dean gives a silent, open-mouthed laugh in return. "Who's birthday is it?"

"Oh mine," the officer says. "Sixty years."

Dean grins, "You're looking mighty good," Dean says, his eyes on the cake. "Oh ... I'd love to have me a piece."

Smiling, the man says, "Now, I know you didn't come in here for cake." Dean's glance at the cake tells a different story. "What can I do for you?"

"Jackie Prescott," Dean says.

The man looks sad, "I'm sorry son, I can't..."

"Rick was a friend of mine. I just .. need to know what happened."

The officer hesitates. "Yeah, we wrapped it up. We had a manhunt going." The man shakes his head. "Special forces officer and no cooperation from the base, but then he committed suicide. Poured gasoline all over himself and lit himself on fire."

"Why'd he do a crazy thing like that?" Dean asks.

"Oh I don't know. I wasn't there. I heard his face was messed up, scarred, like he was in a bomb blast. Might have had a brain injury or PTSD. My partner says he wasn't crazy at all, he was doing what he needed to do, to stop himself. But ... " the man shrugs.

"This partner of yours, can I talk to her?"

"Oh, Cathy's out on patrol, won't be back for a few hours."

Dean hands him a business card. "If she'd give me call."

"Sure thing," the man says.

With a last glance at the cake, Dean walks away.

A House in Fayetteville

The Impala is parked outside a small house. Inside, a woman with long brown-blonde hair and carrying a bald, blue-eyed baby talks to Sam. "Rick did it. I'm not trying to say that he didn't. But. I mean. He just got back from deployment and we've all seen what it can do to a soldier's mind. My Rick, when he's home, he's a good person. I have to put the spiders outside you know." The woman sniffles as she speaks. "Rick was a kind soul. He never wanted to harm anybody."

"Did you um, notice anything strange or weird?" Sam asks.

"Rick was, he was so... He was thirsty," Rick's wife answers. "He drank from the garden hose. One night I caught him in the tub drinking the bathwater. When I told him to stop it was like he couldn't even hear me," she says with a grin made bizarre by her emotion. "And his skin, it got so dry it bled ... and his face peeled all over."

"Did you go see a doctor?" Sam asks.

"I made an appointment at the V.A., but he stopped talking and just wasn't himself. He wouldn't go. It just got worse and worse." She sniffles, looking at her baby. "I thought maybe it was a disease he caught over there," she sniffles tearfully, turning away from Sam as she begins to sob.

"Uh, I'm very sorry." Sam says in a quiet voice. "Do you have any idea where Rick was deployed last?"

The woman stands with her back turned to Sam, looking at the photos of her family on the refrigerator. "No, all of that is classified."

"Right. Well, um. If something comes up, anything at all, just give me a call." Sam says, pulling a business card out of his pocket.

"There's one other thing. My friend Jemma, she's married to Kit, a guy from Rick's team. She lives at 241 Cliffdale." the woman turns and looks at Sam steadily.

Sam nods. "Thank you," he says sincerely.

241 Cliffdale Avenue

The Impala pulls over next to a nice house on the busy road. The house number reads 241.

"I'm not talking about this with you, Dean." Sam says in an exhausted voice, as they get out of the car.

"Great, because I'm not doing it," Dean says steadily.

Sam glares at Dean's back.

At the porch, Dean waits for Sam to walk up, then knocks loudly on the door.

After a moment, the door swings open. A tall woman with long, dark hair opens the door a crack and sticks her head out, "Hello?"

"Hi, I'm Michael, my brother Rob, we're friends of Rick and Beth," Sam lies smoothly. Dean gives the woman a nod and a smile.

"Yeah, sure .. come on in," the woman says with a quizzical smile. Sam and Dean follow her into a clean, modern living room. "It's horrible to even think about Rick and that woman he murdered. She wasn't in his team. She'd just gotten transferred here. I don't think they even knew each other. Would you like anything to drink? I made some unsweetened iced tea."

"Yeah, thank you Rob would love some tea. Beth told us that you might know more about what happened ... we'd just feel better if we knew why," Sam lies smoothly.

"Well I don't know what i can tell you. Kit isn't home," the dark-haired woman says.

"How's Kit doing?" Sam asks.

Jemma walks away, pouring a glass of iced tea. "Kit's been going through some stuff. Um .. you know it takes him a while to get back to normal .. he always does." She hands Dean a glass, "Sorry, it's bitter without honey in it. I try not to use sugar, and we ran out of honey. Kit was going to pick some up at the store."

"And what about you? How are you holding up?" Dean asks, sipping at the cold, bitter tea.

"I'm okay .. for the most part. You know what happened to Rick and Beth. It's been hard." She glances at a framed wedding photo on the wall, one of many scattered around the living room. "There but for the grace of God, you know."

"When will Kit be back?" Sam asks politely.

The woman's face freezes. "He, um, he went out last night, but he should be back any minute." She sits down, and Sam and Dean follow her lead and sit down also. "You know, Kit, he comes back from these deployments and he needs his space."

"So he's been out all night?" Dean asks, a note of judgment in his voice.

"Well .. yeah," the woman sneers back.

Sam and Dean avoid glancing at each other.

"God .. I can't even convince myself. I'm worried. This isn't like him," she says suddenly.

"Has he ... been thirsty?" Sam asks.

"How did you know?" Jemma asks, looking at Sam sharply.

"Beth mentioned it, maybe something they both caught on their last deployment," Sam lies smoothly.

"OH, Oh well that makes sense. I always felt that Rick and Kit had a special bond. They're always together. Anything that happens to Rick and Kit is right there with him, you know."

"Did Kit mention anything unusual about their last deployment?" Sam asks.

"Oh, all of that is classified, but Kit was complaining about going into a cemetery. You know, Rick is really squeamish and sensitive especially for someone in well .." Jemma cuts herself off, "...something was upsetting him about the mission. Kit doesn't usually complain about things like this to me, but then Kit was starting to act strange and ..."

"Strange how?" Dean interrupts.

"I don't know, what do you mean by that?" Jemma pauses, looking at Dean.

"Do you have any idea where Kit could have gone?" Sam interrupts to ask, before Jemma has a moment to think.

"Well, whenever Kit is really upset which is hardly ever, you know, once in a blue moon type of thing, he goes out to his dad's old cabin. Usually he drives around or goes to visit Rick, except," Jemma's voice quivers. "Well .. another one of Kit and Rick's friends came to visit after Rick's funeral. He's really worried about it. He's a little intense, and has this ... strange obsession that Rick and Beth were helping him with, but he's still in town. He said he's not leaving until he's sure that Kit is doing okay... I should have thought to call him before now." Jemma glances around, then picks up her cell phone from the counter. "If you'll excuse me, just a minute," Jemma says.

Outside the House

Sam and Dean leave the house. Cole Trenton sits on the hood of the Impala. He slips his cell phone into his pocket. "Recognized your wheels," he says, patting the car arrogantly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asks in a deliberately calm voice.

"Jemma called me. I've known Kit since we were military brats raisin hell on the same base, no way are you friends with Rick and Kit." Cole walks towards the brothers and faces them, crossing his arms across his chest. "Kit and Jemma are good people."

"No one's saying they're not." Dean answers calmly.

"Oh really now, so what - are you two here for Jemma's sweet tea? You want to tell me why you're really here?" Cole demands.

"That was some bitter iced tea since Kit went out last night and hasn't come back," Dean says calmly.

"Yeah, she just called me." Cole says, flexing his muscular arms held tightly across his chest. He looks at Dean, bracing himself, "What is it?"

Dean looks at Cole.

"Honestly, we're not sure just yet," Sam volunteers in a tired voice.

"Mm .. says you." Cole says challengingly.

"Look, we're not going anywhere and if you care about your buddy, you'll let us handle this." Sam says.

"Mm .. nah I think I'm gonna be coming with you." Cole says with cheerful arrogance.

"Oh the hell you are," Dean says.

"I got contacts ... I can help," Cole says, dangling his words in front of the brothers. "A friend of mine works military intelligence – owes me a favor." Cole says.

Sam glances at Dean, then looks at Cole. "Would he know what Rick and Kit's mission was?" Sam asks.

"Sure ... and I already asked him," Cole sneers.

"Okay, fine." Dean says.

"No, it ain't. You know I figure out what's going on here – I stick to you two like flies on roadkill – make sure my buddy comes home in one piece. I know what you two are thinking, you're not gonna hunt down my friend, who happens to be a friggin' war hero. We are going to find him and that's the difference," Cole rambles on agitatedly.

The front door opens suddenly. "Hey, Cole, uh," Jemma calls out. She looks at the three men. "Would you like to come inside? I have some more iced tea."

Sam gives Jemma a small smile, "Sure, we'd love to." He turns and walks into the house. Dean walks in without looking at Cole's tense face. Cole follows them inside and Jemma shuts the door.

"Please, have a seat," she says into the awkward silence. Cole leans against an arm of the sofa, while Sam and Dean sit down. Jemma pours more bitter iced tea into glasses.

"What's going on?" she asks, as she hands out the glasses.

Cole answers, "Jem, look, you remember Rick and Beth were helping me," Cole glances significantly at Dean.

Jemma glances at Dean.

"Well, they think Kit and Rick were involved with something .. you know ..." Cole smacks his leg nervously. "I know you don't believe me Jem, but those things are real. These guys .. they ain't FBI agents or whatever they told you ..."

Dean looks calmly at Jemma. Sam flicks a tired gaze between Cole and Jemma.

"Yeah ... I know," Jemma says in a slightly hesitant voice. "I called Beth and she told me that Michael visited her," she says, glancing at Sam.

"His name's Sam. It's not Michael." Cole says aggressively.

"Yeah..." Jemma looks down nervously, then glances over the men sitting in her living room. "Beth called the police officer who was working on Rick's case. A guy was at City Hall today, asking questions about the murder," she looks at Dean.

Dean looks up at Jemma, "Was the officer Cathy?"

Jemma nods hesitantly at Dean, "Yes .. maybe. If it is a ... monster ... what is it?"

Dean looks at Jemma as he answers, "Rick killed himself with fire."

Sam flicks Dean a glance.

"And they're both thirsty," Sam adds. "It's not much to go on." Sam looks earnestly at Jemma, "If we could talk to Kit, that would help a lot. We might be able to track his cell phone if you have his login..."

"Uh .. yeah ..., that's a great idea ..." Jemma hesitates, looking at Sam, then glancing over Cole and Dean.

Dean looks at Jemma and sips from his glass of unsweetened ice tea. Jemma looks at the glass of tea that is missing the honey that Kit went out for last night. "Yeah, here ...," Jemma picks up a small laptop from a table and sits down beside Sam, flipping the laptop open.

A cell phone buzzes in Cole's pocket. "There we go," he says, opening up his email. "I got an email here from my friend .. Kit and Rick were sent to rescue an American P.O.W. being held in Iraq in the Najaf Cemetery. Got some footage here from Rick's helmet cam."

A blurry, green-tinged video plays. Sam and Jemma look over from their laptops as Cole holds out his cell phone. Two soldiers walk down a corridor. The lights on their weapons are bright green beams moving over the scene. They fire. "Down, get down!" More gunfire as they reach an intersection. Blurry human figures fall. "Clear! Major Matt Jones! Hey, right here. Hey, Major Jones, is that you? Hey. Hey I'm Captain Kit Verson. We're here to bring you home." A man sits with his back turned to Kit. The man screams. Yelling, he whirls and lunges at Kit. He slams Kit's body across a tombstone. The man bends over Kit. "Aaaagh!" A muffled scream comes from Kit's mouth. The camera jerks as Rick runs forward. Out of view of the camera, Kit shouts, "What the hell! What the hell was that?" The face of the screaming man looms in the helmet camera, his mouth open wide. The video ends.

"Official story is the P.O.W. was shot by enemy combatants during the mission," Cole says.

"Huh," Sam mutters disbelievingly. He looks at his laptop. "Kit's moving, slowly, like he's on foot."

Jemma huddles next to Sam, looking at his laptop screen. She is trembling slightly, her hand covering her mouth, glassy-eyed. "He's close to his dad's old cabin by Uwharrie. It's an hour and a half drive from here. Cole, could I get a ride with you?"

"Yeah, o' course, Jem..." Cole starts to say.

"No, no ..." Dean says quickly, getting up. "It's dangerous. We still don't know what it is..."

Jemma's clear voice cuts across Dean's words, "I'm not leaving Kit out there. Haven't you seen this before?"

Sam and Dean glance at each other, then look at Cole and Jemma.

"Whatever it is, Rick killed himself to stop it. We'll know when we get in there." Dean says.

"Get in there, like kill him," Cole says.

"Yes, kill him, because that's the safest way, stop him before whatever monster or curse or whatever the hell it is takes over and he kills someone he really don't want to," Dean says.

Sam doesn't look at Jemma.

"He's my husband. We know each other. He won't .. he won't attack me. I know him. I can help and this craziness will be .. in the past. If there's a cure or any chance that he could be saved ... how can I give up that hope for him?" Jemma pleads with Dean. "Please .. I'm not going to leave him out there alone."

"Dean," Sam says, looking up with his pleading little brother face.

A Forested Road

Cole drives up to a dark cabin, Jemma is in the passenger seat of the jeep. He parks his jeep and gets out. They look at each other. Jemma stays in the car as Cole gets out.

Cole walks up to the cabin. He knocks. No one answers. Cole opens the door of the cabin. He calls out, "Hey Kit, are you here? It's Cole."

Behind him, he hears the sounds of the jeep's door opening and closing.

Cole's eyes sweep over dessicated dead rats and a squirrel lying on the floor. His footsteps echo loudly on the wooden floor. Cole opens a door to a small room in the cabin. Kit is sitting on a chair, hunched over, facing away from Cole. Kit coughs quietly, doubled over, his arms pressing into his belly.

Outside the cabin, Dean looks in through the front door.

"Hey Kit. Hey," Cole touches Kit's shoulder. Kit spins around, his face distorted and scarred as he looks at Cole.

"I am sorry. I can't stop myself." Kit says in a robot-like voice. He tackles Cole and they fall onto the floor. A worm slips out of Kit's mouth and falls onto Cole's face.

"Ungh!" Cole grunts a scream, his terrified face is distorted as the worm slips into his mouth.

A second worm slips out of Kit's mouth.

Thunk. The tip of Dean's knife misses the worm as it slithers away rapidly. Sam's legs scrabble on the floor. Sam's boot smashes the worm.

Kit runs for the cabin door, boots echoing loudly on the floor.

Jemma runs to Kit, hugging him, pressing her face into his chest.

"Cover your mouth!" Dean shouts.

Kit twists his face away from Jemma. Sam's long arm snakes around Kit's neck, lifting the man off his feet. Kit chokes.

"Leggo .. Jemma," Sam pants.

Dean roughly peels Jemma away from Kit. He shoots Kit with a taser. Kit's body stiffens and Sam lowers him to the floor. Sam and Dean tie up Kit, covering his mouth with duct tape. Jemma watches, her hands over her mouth.

Dean turns on a lamp as Cole coughs and gags on the floor.

"Something went down my throat," Cole says in a thick voice.

"All right Cole, just try and stay calm," Dean says calmly.

"Oh god, something just moved. It's alive," Cole says, his eyes rolling.

"We're gonna get it out of you," Dean says firmly.

"How!" Cole yells, grabbing at his chest and abdomen.

"We'll figure it out," Dean says. "Looked half like a khan worm," he says, glancing at Sam.

Sam holds Jemma as she shakes, looking between Kit and Cole. Sam holds her back from touching Kit. "Not, it's safer not to touch him. It looks like it goes in from the mouth, but we can't be sure."

"What's a khan worm?" Cole asks.

"Four years back, we tracked the trail of a monster to a cannery. This worm .. it went in through the ear and … it was freakin awful. Took control of our bodies, pretended to be us. Gwen and Rufus died." Dean says flatly.

"Alright, so you been to this rodeo before. How do we kill it?" Cole asks.

"Last time, electrocution made the worm leave the body," Dean says.

"Alright, fine, electrocution it is. I'm game," Cole says. "Hell, I have a wife, a kid, and an upside-down mortgage to get back to. Whatever it takes, Dean-o," Cole says.

"Okay," Dean says, looking at Cole.

Cole sits on the floor in a small room hastily cleared of other furnishings. He leans back against a wall. Sam holds Jemma by the shoulders as she watches Kit and Cole.

Dean shuts the door.

"So, last time you saw this thing, it turned people into killers too?" Cole asks.

"Yeah. It did a mind-control number on us ... no memory of what we'd done once it was out. The suckers moved a lot faster than these worms. Left black ectoplasm in the ear," Dean says.

"Damn," Cole takes a deep breath, scooting forward until he lies flat on his back. "Do it."

Dean fires the taser at Cole. The taser crackles and Cole's body shivers, "Uugh," Cole grunts in pain. Seconds count down on the taser .. 25 .. 24 .. 23 ... "Uung," Cole moans and grunts in pain. The taser counts down ...1.

Nothing happens. Dean stares at Cole's body.

"Freakin', that sucker should have crawled out by now," Dean mumbles to himself.

Cole wakes up. "Anything?" he mumbles in a hoarse, slurred voice.

"I'm not seeing anything yet," Dean growls.

"What?" Cole asks, disoriented.

"I'm not seeing anything yet," Dean repeats.

"Do it again," Cole says.

Dean looks at Cole.

"Again," Cole says. "Again!" Cole yells.

Dean shocks Cole again. Cole's face turn red and he seems to lose consciousness. Dean grabs Cole's head and slaps Cole's cheeks. Cole shivers and opens his eyes.

"Hey! Hey okay," Cole says, waking up suddenly. "Hey, all right, again, do it again," Cole says in a rough voice.

"No, we're done playing Operation. It's not working," Dean says. "Keep your head in the game. What do we know about this thing?"

"Sucker dries you out," Cole says. "I'm thirsty already, man."

"It needs water," Dean says.

"Rick drank blood from the vic he killed," Sam says.

"Huh, then burned himself alive. So, it's like a parasite. Drinks you dry, breeds in there, and then moves on," Dean extrapolates.

"So if I dry myself out, son of a bitch wouldn't like that very much, would he?" Cole says.

"No, it wouldn't," Dean says. "What do you think about rapid dehydration?" Dean asks.

"Big fan," Cole bluffs hoarsely. "Just make sure you squash that thing when it comes out."

Kit struggles on the floor. "Dean," Sam says. Dean tosses Sam the taser. Sam changes out the battery and stuns Kit again.

"Okay, we're on the clock," Dean says.

Cole says, "I can take it. Do it."

"Good." Dean draws a large knife and drives the tip of the blade into Cole's arm, then takes it out. Dark liquid oozes out and falls onto the wooden floor. Dean jiggles the wound to keep the blood flowing.

"Hnggg," Cole looks up at Dean. His eyes change. Bloody cracks are visible in the skin on the side of his face. "My dad, he got something inside him, too, right? You think this is what he felt like when he turned?"

"Maybe," Dean growls, crouching beside Cole. "He was human before he was a monster."

"I get it," Cole says. "Why you did it Dean. My dad ... wasn't my dad anymore." Cole pauses, looking at Dean. "All I can think about is slicing you up and drinking you like a fountain. Guess that makes me a monster too, don't it," Cole laughs and sobs in a choked voice.

"Listen to me," Dean says quickly. "You can fight this. Think about your family, hmm? Your wife, your kid. You hear me?" Dean deepens the deep cut in Cole's arm, eyeing the pool of spilled blood around Cole.

Cole gasps in a choked voice, "I ... appreciate ... the talk .. coach, unggggg!" Cole's throat ripples slowly upward with the movement of the worm. Cole's mouth slowly forces itself wide open. A khan worm surrounded by ectoplasm wriggles, its glistening pincers opening and closing in the air. Standing, Dean grabs Cole by the collar and drags Cole so his open mouth is over clear floorspace. The worm drops onto the wooden floor. Dean's boot smashes it.

"Bleurk," Cole braces himself on his knees and one arm. He coughs out ectoplasm, gagging and spitting.

Dean takes out a sewing needle, dental floss, and a flask of whiskey. In the room behind him, Jemma gets up and rummages through Cole's backpack.

Cole spits out a last mouthful of ectoplasm. Dean crouches by Cole and snaps off a piece of dental floss. Cole looks at Dean's version of medical supplies. "No! ... no. Get me my medical kit," Cole says.

"I can do that," Jemma says, already at Kit's side. "Please, take care of Kit." She opens up the medical kit.

Dean nods at her, then wipes off his blade. "Ready?" he asks Sam.

Sam holds Kit's trussed up body by the head. "Yeah." Sam turns Kit's face to the floor, then rips off the duct tape. Ectoplasms drips from Kit's mouth. Dean stabs Kit's wrist.
Kit's cracked, bleeding face is impassive. Blood joins the ectoplasm on the floor.

"Don't ... stop," Kit grunts. A few long moments later, a khan worm protrudes from Kit's mouth, surrounded by greenish ectoplasm. Dean flicks the worm out with the tip of his knife. His boot smashes the worm.

241 Cliffdale Ave

Sam, Cole, Jemma, and Beth sit in Jemma's living room. Dean leans against a wall, Beth's baby in one arm and a bottle in the other hand. Sam speaks quietly, "I uh, for what it's worth, I really wish it hadn't ended this way."

"Yeah, me too Sammy boy. I guess I seen it all now. I just wanna go home, see my family. Soon as Kit's funeral is done and over," Cole rambles on. "I hope I never see you two again."

Sam smiles wryly.

"No offense," Cole says.

"None taken," Dean interjects, to prevent Sam from answering. Looking at Jemma, Dean asks, "You going to be okay?"

Beth wraps her arm around Jemma's shoulder. Jemma looks up at Dean, "As much as I can be. Thank you .. for trying to save Kit." Jemma sobs. Beth hugs Jemma.

The baby starts to cry. "Here," Beth says, arms reaching up to Dean to take her baby. Dean walks over and gently hands Beth the baby. Jemma dabs away the tears running down her face.

Dean looks at Sam. Sam gets up, saying, "If anything happens, give us a call okay?"

"Of course, thank you," Jemma says in a choked voice. "Take care, have a safe drive," she says.

Cole stands up, he holds out his hand to Dean. They shake, and Dean pats Cole on the shoulder as they turn away.

Sam and Dean walk to the Impala and get inside. Sam grimaces.

"Don't blame yourself for Kit," Dean says, looking at Sam. "Sometimes, no matter what you do, people die. We only the best we can, with whatever we got."

Sam doesn't answer.

"What, that's not it?" Dean looks at Sam.

"No. It's nothing," Sam answers.

"What .. come on." Dean grumbles impatiently.

"You sure bonded with Cole," Sam says in an annoyed voice.

"Is that what's bothering you?" Dean asks, a note of disbelief in his voice.

"Hey, he only tried to kill you," Sam says, covering up his main reason.

"Plenty of people have tried to kill me. Come on, we don't have to hold it against him. He thought I murdered his father, which I did when his father turned. It's not like I stopped to explain. I got the hell out of there as soon as he was dead," Dean says.

"Huh. Yeah ... he wouldn't listen when I tried." Sam says. "My shoulder still aches from when ... nevermind," Sam cuts himself off.

"What did he do to you?" Dean demands.

"It's nothing. I'm fine. Just tired," Sam gestures at the road.

Dean starts to open the car door. Sam taps Dean's chest with the back of his hand. "Really, it's fine." Sam gives Dean a look.

Dean looks at Sam. "Bitch," he mutters as he shuts the door.

"Jerk," Sam answers, a tiny quirk of his lips making a smile.

Dean starts the car and they drive off.