7.11 Adventures in Babysitting (Transcript)

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SUPERNATURAL

7.11 Adventures In Babysitting

Written by: Adam Glass

Directed by: Jeannot Szwarc

Air Date: 6 January 2012

NOW

INT. DINER – NIGHT

A MAN is sitting at a table, watching a suggestively-dressed WOMAN talking to a man outside. A WAITRESS tops up his coffee.

MAN:
Thank you.

WAITRESS:
Sure. You've been here a couple nights in a row now.

MAN:
What can I say? I like the ambience.

WAITRESS:
Get you anything else?

The MAN sees the WOMAN outside lead the man away with her arms hooked around one of his.

MAN:
No, thanks.

The MAN takes money from his pocket and we see that he is carrying a knife.

WAITRESS:
Thanks. Keep safe out there.

The WOMAN and the man she is with walk between trucks parked outside the diner. The MAN with the knife follows them, knife drawn. As he walks slowly between the trucks, the WAITRESS appears behind him.

WAITRESS:
Hey, there. You lost?

MAN:
What?

The MAN’s vision is blurry.

MAN:
Excuse me...

WAITRESS:
Ooh-hoo. You're looking a little Cabo Wabo, there.

MAN:
No. No, I'm fine.

WAITRESS:
No. You're not. I slipped a little special sauce into your coffee while you were watching the skirt. You do know we're venomous, right?

The WAITRESS’s pupils become almost vertical.

WAITRESS:
Looks like I didn't dose you quite hard enough. That's okay. There's more where that came from.

The WAITRESS smiles, revealing pointed, snake-like teeth. She throws the MAN against a truck. He falls to the ground, dropping the knife.

WAITRESS:
That's for the crappy tip.

ACT ONE

Week One

INT. RUFUS’S CABIN – DAY

SAM and DEAN are sitting silently in dim light in Rufus’ cabin, SAM in a chair and DEAN on the couch. They both have their hands in their laps and SAM is clenching his hands together. SAM looks over at DEAN, then away. When SAM is no longer looking directly at him, DEAN looks at SAM, then away.

Week Two

INT. RUFUS’S CABIN – DAY

DEAN is drinking whiskey and looking at a clipboard holding a pad of paper on which is written “45489”, the number Bobby wrote on SAM’s hand in 7.10 Death's Door. SAM is washing dishes at the sink.

SAM takes an address book out of a drawer and opens it.

DEAN has added a list below the number:

Zip Code

Sec [?]

Lock

V-Mail

Password

Bank #

Each item is crossed out.

Week Three

INT. RUFUS’S CABIN – DAY

DEAN pins an article titled “Biggerson’s Recalls Contaminated Meat: Customers Report Illness After Eating Turducken Slammers” to a board holding their research. Also on the board are several articles about Dick Roman.

SAM puts two duffel bags on a table and takes a beer out of the refrigerator.

SAM:
Dean, you know, um... I wonder if – if we... I mean, should we be telling people? I mean, people he knew.

DEAN:
How long ago did I give Frank these numbers? It's been a few weeks, right? What, is he nuts, or is he just being rude?

SAM:
Probably both. Dean, I-I got to ask you a question.

DEAN:
Unless, of course, something happened to him. He can't get to the phone because a Leviathan ate his face.

SAM:
Yeah, also a possibility.

DEAN:
We should go check on him.

SAM:
Dean, do you want to call Bobby's people or not?

DEAN:
W-why is – why is that our job?

SAM:
Because who else is gonna do it?

DEAN:
I'm not calling anybody. If you want to, you go right ahead.

SAM:
I don't want to call anybody. You kidding me?

A phone in one of the duffel bags rings.

DEAN:
Well, I'm not getting it.

SAM takes out the phone.

SAM:
Hello?

GIRL (V-O):
Is Bobby Singer there?

SAM:
Uh, no. He's, uh... I-I-it's not, but I'm a friend of his.

DEAN picks up a flask that was in the duffel bag, sniffs it and puts the lid back on.

GIRL (V-O):
My dad asked me to call Bobby Singer specifically.

SAM:
He's... not here, but, look, if you need s–

The GIRL hangs up.

DEAN:
Who was it?

SAM:
Just some kid.

DEAN:
For Bobby? Girl scout cookies?

SAM:
I think maybe...

DEAN picks up a full bottle of beer from the table.

SAM:
Maybe a-a hunter's kid? I mean, she sounded pretty scared. You know, I have a caller ID. Maybe we should go find her. We – we can check on her.

DEAN:
What about Frank?

SAM:
Well, Dean, I think we should go find this girl first.

DEAN:
Sam, Frank's been working on the numbers that Bobby spent his last breath on, and you want to back-burner that?

SAM looks silently at DEAN.

DEAN:
Fine. You go check out girl scout. I'll find Frank.

SAM:
Fine. But you know what? On one condition – if Frank is just spinning his wheels, then you bail out on crazy and come meet me.

DEAN looks at the beer bottle in his hand, which is now empty.

DEAN:
And thanks for drinking my entire beer.

SAM:
I didn't touch your beer. Mine's right there. You probably drank it without noticing.

DEAN:
Right.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING – DAY

A sign reads “Clarke Manor Furnished Apartments – Month to Month Rentals”.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING – DAY

SAM knocks on an apartment door.

SAM:
Hello? Um, we...spoke on the phone earlier?

The door opens to the length of a chain lock.

SAM:
Hi. Uh...I'm Sam. You sounded like you needed help, and I was in the area.

GIRL:
How'd you find me?

SAM:
Your dad is in Bobby's address book.

GIRL:
So where is he?

SAM:
Bobby? He, uh... He's passed away. Look, um –

GIRL:
Krissy.

SAM:
Krissy. I get it. You don't let strangers in. But if your dad said you could trust Bobby, then you can trust me, too.

KRISSY shuts the door, undoes the chain and opens the door again.

KRISSY:
Just so you know, 911's on speed-dial. One button.

SAM:
Yeah, sure. Note taken.

KRISSY:
So... you're a salesman, too?

SAM:
Yep. So your dad's on the road right now? Been gone a while?

KRISSY:
He usually calls every night.

SAM:
How long has it been?

KRISSY:
Five days.

SAM:
It's just you and him, huh? I know how that is. Look, um... Sometimes on the road, crap happens. So I'll help you track him down.

KRISSY:
Really?

SAM:
'Course. Did he happen to say where he was going?

KRISSY:
Said he had a couple leads near Dodge City.

SAM:
And does he have a desk or something where he keeps his stuff?

KRISSY leads SAM into another room.

SAM:
Do you mind making some coffee? Thanks.

SAM looks through the desk and then inside a closet. Behind the hanging clothes, he finds a research board with missing person notices and an article titled “Monsters In Our Midst” and “Trucker Missing, Rig Found In Ditch”.

SAM:
Krissy.

SAM walks towards the kitchen.

SAM:
Hey, listen, so I think I got an idea where to start. So I'm gonna go. Um...Can I borrow this?

SAM holds up a framed photograph of KRISSY and her dad.

KRISSY:
Yeah.

SAM:
Thanks. Here. Here's a number, in case you don't hear from me in the next couple days. Don't worry. I promise I'll check in.

KRISSY:
Don't say that. That's what my dad said.

EXT. FRANK’S HOUSE – DAY

DEAN drives up and gets out of the car.

INT. FRANK’S HOUSE – DAY

DEAN walks through the mostly empty house with his gun drawn.

DEAN:
This can't be good.

DEAN turns to the sound of a gun cocking and raises his own gun. FRANK is pointing a shotgun at him.

DEAN:
Well... hi.

FRANK doesn’t lower his gun.

DEAN:
Frank... we're amongst friends here. Okay, acquaintances.

FRANK:
That's just what a Leviathan would say.

ACT TWO

INT. FRANK’S HOUSE – DAY

DEAN:
Frank. I'm not a Leviathan.

FRANK:
Oh, sure. You're not a Leviathan. Dick Roman's not a Leviathan. Gwyneth Paltrow is not a Leviathan.

DEAN:
Yeah?

FRANK:
Trust me.

DEAN:
Okay. You know what, Frank? I think you've been doing a little too much research.

FRANK:
They're anywhere, anyone. Who's to say this ain't the day they come for old Frank who knew too much?

DEAN:
They bleed black goo, right? You want to see what I bleed?

FRANK points his shotgun at DEAN’s foot.

DEAN:
Oh! Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let's take the guns out of it, okay?

FRANK:
Okay.

DEAN puts his gun on the table, takes a switchknife out of his back pocket and makes a cut on his forearm. FRANK finally lowers his shotgun.

DEAN:
See? Red-blooded American.

DEAN wipes his knife on his sleeve.

DEAN:
Now...

DEAN holds out the knife to FRANK.

DEAN:
Your turn.

FRANK:
Oh! Whoa. Look, I'm obviously not –

DEAN:
Fair's fair, douchebag.

FRANK takes the knife, makes a cut on his palm and hands the knife back to DEAN.

DEAN:
Yeah.

DEAN wipes the knife on his sleeve again.

DEAN:
I'm glad we could share that together.

FRANK:
Grab your gun, come with me. For God's sake, don't make any noise.

EXT. – DAY

DEAN and FRANK pull up at a barn containing a trailer.

INT. FRANK’S TRAILER – DAY

DEAN:
Why the downsize?

FRANK:
You! "Hey, Frank, go dig up some dirt on Richard Roman." That night, I was burned off every IP I had. Ears on my phones, eyes on my house...

DEAN:
Wait – Dick's got people watching you?

FRANK:
Do I look like I know? You think it's easy to see this deep into what's real and also be bipolar with delusional ideation? There is no pill for my situation, sweetiepop, so, yeah, best guess – the bigmouths are onto me. Next question.

DEAN:
All right. Well, what's the word on the bigmouths?

FRANK:
Their tentacles are everywhere. I-I'm looking at bankers, military high-ups...

DEAN:
This is why you didn't call me back.

FRANK:
Hey, cut me some slack. You called me like four days ago.

DEAN:
I called you four weeks ago, Frank.

FRANK:
What? No. Really? Days, weeks – quit busting my chops.

DEAN:
What, are you kidding me?

FRANK:
You cool your heels, Buster Brown.

DEAN:
Frank, I paid you fifteen grand for this.

FRANK:
Yeah, I get that –

DEAN:
No, you don't get that! Dick Roman is every card in my hit deck. You understand that? Those numbers, they got something to do with him, okay? Bobby died for those numbers.

FRANK:
Look, I'm sorry about Bobby. I really am. You know, this one time, we were in Fresno, and we got stuck –

DEAN:
No. No, no, no. I'm not gonna play "this one time with Bobby" crap, all right? I'm not gonna get all warm and fuzzy with somebody else who barely knew him.

FRANK:
Just trying to make friendly conversation.

DEAN:
This is not a friendship, Frank. I'm paying you!

FRANK:
Hey. You know what you need? A little LSD, a little shiatsu –

DEAN:
I'm out of here.

FRANK:
Hey, you want to know what those numbers are? Bupkis. They're not lottery numbers, license –

DEAN:
I know that, Frank. Thank you.

FRANK:
Which leaves us little else to do but probability generate.

DEAN:
Come again?

FRANK sits down at a computer.

FRANK:
You run most reasonable possibilities for a Levi-related five-digit number written by a dying drunk, you come up flat. Know what you start to wonder? "Hey, maybe I'm missing a number."

DEAN:
Well, how do you figure?

FRANK:
Oh, I don't know. Because Bobby was dying of brain trauma. I just had a tickle there was a reason nothing was popping out at us, so I set up a program to run possibilities for six numbers, seven, eight. But good news.

DEAN:
Good news?

FRANK:
Never had to go past six, because this...

FRANK types “454893” into the computer.

FRANK:
...my little lamb, is coordinates.

DEAN:
You sure? To what?

FRANK:
A field in Wisconsin.

DEAN:
No. No, Bobby didn't give us coordinates to some patch of weeds in Cheeseville.

FRANK:
No, he gave you coordinates to a parcel recently purchased by Willman, Inc., a subsidiary of [FRANK makes a trumpeting noise] Richard Roman Enterprises.

DEAN:
So what do we do?

FRANK:
Stay away. Or, if we're stupid... we go there and set up surveillance.

INT. MORGUE – DAY

MORGUE ATTENDANT:
Matthew Havlena – found in a ditch off the interstate.

SAM:
Cause of death?

MORGUE ATTENDANT:
Missing five pints of blood can't have helped. Puncture wounds – femoral arteries and carotid.

SAM:
So, what? Some kind of animal attack?

MORGUE ATTENDANT:
Or a vampire.

SAM looks at the MORGUE ATTENDANT without smiling.

MORGUE ATTENDANT:
Huh. That... usually gets at least a chuckle.

EXT. TOWN – DAY (SAM)

INT. BARN CONTAINING FRANK’S TRAILER – DAY (DEAN)

(Scene switches between the above locations)

SAM (on phone):
Find Frank?

DEAN (on phone):
Yeah. Those numbers? Coordinates. Dick bought some land. We're headed there now.

SAM (on phone):
Wait, wait, wait. You're just gonna drive right up to –

DEAN (on phone):
Relax. It's a field, not the Death Star. Dick's at a TED Conference. It's all over The Huffington Post.

SAM (on phone):
Wait, wait, wait. Since when do you read?

DEAN (on phone):
Know your enemy, Sam. What's going on with the girl?

SAM (on phone):
I don't think she even knows her dad's in the life. So far, I got three missing truckers and one blood-free body.

DEAN (on phone):
Good times. All right, well, keep me posted.

INT. BARN CONTAINING FRANK’S TRAILER – DAY

FRANK opens the trailer door.

FRANK:
Got the equipment arranged. Come and get your costume on. We can scoot.

DEAN:
"Costume"? What?

EXT. FIELD – DAY

DEAN:
What the hell's so special about this place?

FRANK:
I love a mystery. Now get up in that cherry picker and act like you're fixing something.

DEAN and FRANK are wearing gray overall uniforms and hard hats.

DEAN:
I don't know how to drive that thing.

FRANK:
You think I do?

DEAN:
Well, why do I got to be the sap that –

FRANK points to his own uniform, then to DEAN’s.

FRANK:
This one says "manager." That one says "technician." Sometime this month?

DEAN climbs up into the cherry picker.

DEAN:
Come on. Yah! Whoo!

DEAN clips a carabiner from his safety harness onto the cherry picker and puts the cherry picker in motion.

DEAN:
Okay... aaah! Up. Moving. Aah.

FRANK is looking through binoculars and sees several surveillance cameras.

FRANK:
Oh, crap. Come on down, Tarzan!

DEAN:
What?

FRANK:
Get down here. We need to move. They got this place wired up the wazoo.

DEAN:
They're watching us right now?

FRANK:
Nah, nah, they're just watching Cheech and Ed from Ma Bell.

DEAN:
You know, it's gonna be a little difficult to set up surveillance if there's, uh, surveillance everywhere.

FRANK:
Right. So we need to tap into theirs instead.

INT. FRANK’S TRAILER – NIGHT

FRANK taps some keys and the computer screen shows the field.

DEAN:
All right, now what?

FRANK:
You look horrific. When was the last time you really slept a night?

DEAN:
Let's just work, all right?

FRANK:
This is it. We watch the screens. I can take the first shift. You're no use if you can't even...

DEAN falls asleep.

FRANK:
Keep your eyes open.

DEAN’s phone vibrates in his pocket, but he doesn’t wake.

INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

SAM is looking at John’s journal while talking on the phone.

SAM (on phone):
Dean, hey. So I think this guy was hunting a Vetala. Um, Dad took one down back in the day. Silver knife to the heart, twist, they're done. He says they're maladjusted loner types – like to knock a guy out, drag him home, feed slow. So, if Krissy's dad got grabbed, there's a chance he might still be alive. Be nice to get this girl's dad back home to her, you know? All right, I could use your help. Call me.