Supernatural Page #3

SAM:

...why do you need my help?

DEAN:

He’s your father. You’re his son.

What more do you need? We’re

supposed to be family here--

SAM:

News to me-

DEAN:

No way you’re bringing that up now.

SAM:

He tossed me out on my ass. And

you practically locked the door

behind me-

DEAN:

I seem to remember a few choice

phrases coming out of your mouth

that night-

14.

SAM:

--and I haven’t heard word one from

you guys in, what, a year? That

sound like family to you?

Dean lays his cards out.

DEAN:

You know. You’re even more of a

selfish, stuck-up, hair-gelled punkthan I remember.

SAM:

Oh. Am I?

DEAN:

Yeah. I mean, I know things have

been rocky lately, but still...

he’s Dad. And after everything

he’s done for you...

SAM:

Everything he’s done for me?!

DEAN:

Yes-

SAM:

All he’s done for me, us, is set

the land speed record for f’d up

childhoods!

DEAN:

Don’t be overdramatic-

SAM:

Dean. When I told him I was scared

of the thing in my closet, he gave

me a .45!

DEAN:

Well, what was he supposed to do?

SAM:

He was supposed to say-- ghost

stories are just stories! He was

supposed to say-- don’t be afraid

of the dark!

DEAN:

But... you should be. You know

what’s out there in the dark. You

should be friggin’ terrified.

15.

SAM:

I know. But still...

DEAN:

Sammy, should I be prepping for a

point here anytime soon?

SAM:

The point is... I never asked for

it. The occult homework. And

melting the silver into bullets.

And the family roadtrips-- hunting

down all those freaky-ass things.

I never wanted any of it...

DEAN:

You can’t pick your family.

SAM:

No, but I can live my own life.

And all our gory dysfunction-- I

buried it, man, I swore I was done

with it. For good.

DEAN:

You know as well as I do. Nothingstays buried.

Beat. Sam wills himself to believe-

SAM:

Look. Dad’ll be okay. He’ll be

home in a few days. You’ll see.

DEAN:

He’s in real trouble, if he’s not

dead already. I can feel it, and I

know you can too.

(then)

So the only question is: you coming

with me or not?

OFF Sam, torn and conflicted-

INT. SAM’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jessica sits on the bed. Waiting for Sam. When he enters.

And begins to throw clothes into a backpack.

JESSICA:

Everything alright?

16.

SAM:

Yeah. So, Jess, listen. Stay hereas long as you want, okay? Fridgeshould be reasonably stocked.

JESSICA:

You’re leaving?

SAM:

Just for a few days.

JESSICA:

A few days? Is this about yourDad? Is he alright?

From the hall closet, Sam snags a second bag. The VINYLSHELL,

WEAPON-PACKED SUITCASE.

SAM:

Yeah. You know. Just a little...

family drama.

JESSICA:

Your brother said he was on some

kind of hunting trip...?

SAM:

What? Yeah, he’s up at the...

cabin, probably got Jim, Jack, and

Jose with him. We’re gonna bring

him back.

JESSICA:

Now? It’s three in the morning.

Sam, you sure you’re okay?

Lugging both bags, Sam gives a bewildered Jessica a kiss.

SAM:

I’m okay, everybody’s okay, don’t

worry. I’ll call you later.

Promise.

JESSICA:

(calling after him)

At least tell me where you’re

going...?

EXT. FARM HOUSE - LATE NIGHT

An isolated farm house. A solitary beacon of light in a sea

of darkness.

17.

SUPER:
“SANGER, CALIFORNIA.”

Someone is having an illicit, parents-out-of-town, Halloween

kegger. Various cars parked at every angle, various costumed

HIGH SCHOOL KIDS loitering outside.

TROY SQUIRE, 18, shy, bespectacled, dressed as Harry Potter.

He waves goodbye to his friends, climbs into his hand-me-down

Toyota. Rumbles off into the night.

EXT. CENTENNIAL HIGHWAY - NIGHT

The Toyota WHIZZES past a road sign. CENTENNIAL HIGHWAY.

INT. TOYOTA - MOVING

Troy drives home. It’s pitch black; he can’t see further

than his hi-beams. Suddenly, his RADIO MUSIC decomposes into

STATIC. He glances at it-- weird-- begins to fiddle with the

dial, when--

Appearing in the perimeter of his headlights-- a figure, by

the roadside. A GIRL, 18 or 19.

EXT. CENTENNIAL HIGHWAY - NIGHT

The girl’s thin, white cotton dress FLUTTERS in the gusting

breeze. She waits beside a MILE MARKER POST-- MILE 33.

Troy stops. Opens the passenger door. We TRAIL the girl as

she approaches.

TROY:

Car trouble or something?

INT. TOYOTA - NIGHT

We see her face, as she sits in Troy’s car. CONSTANCE WELD.

Beautiful. Piercing gray eyes. A hushed, melodic voice--

like distant wind chimes.

CONSTANCE:

Take me home?

TROY:

Where do you live?

CONSTANCE:

4636 Breckenridge.

Troy accelerates. Surreptitiously, he wipes the Harry Potter

“lightning” birthmark from his forehead; he doesn’t want to

look like a geek. Then, trying to make conversation-

18.

TROY:

It’s cold. You must be freezing.

She doesn’t respond. Only gazes out her window. Sweetlypathetic, Troy probes further-

TROY:

So breakdown, huh? Scary. I bet

your, uh, boyfriend’s worried...

Still no response. It’s disquieting.

EXT. OLD HOUSE - NIGHT - FEW MINUTES LATER

Troy’s Toyota pulls off the road, onto a dirt driveway.

INT. TOYOTA - CONTINUOUS - NIGHT

TROY:

(looking off screen)

You don’t live here.

THE HOUSE. Abandoned. Rotting. A decayed husk.

Constance gazes at the house. With melancholy-CONSTANCE

I can never go home.

In ONE CONTINUOUS SHOT, Troy turns from her, glancing at the

house again-

TROY:

So where do you really live?

--and when he turns back, she’s GONE. VANISHED completely.

At first, Troy’s startled. But then his rational mind takes

over. He steps out of the car.

HOLD ON the passenger side window. As a FAINT HANDPRINT

MATERIALIZES onto the glass. Seemingly from nowhere...

EXT. OLD HOUSE - NIGHT

TROY:

That was good. But joke’s over,

okay?

Then Troy squints. Noticing something. Through the front

doorway (lacking a door), Troy glimpses-- a corner of

Constance’s fluttering dress. Then it’s gone.

19.

TROY:

Come on. I can see you in there.

No response. Troy SIGHS, frustrated. Steps toward the

house. Moving closer. Closer.

TROY:

You want me to leave you?

He steps onto the porch. No sound but the groaning wood, the

whispering wind. Finally, he enters the house, revealing...

INT. OLD HOUSE - NIGHT

Troy was mistaken; it wasn’t her dress. It’s a tattered,

billowing CURTAIN. Constance isn’t inside this house.

Nobody is... nothing here but jagged, dim shadows.

TROY:

...hello...?

Troy can’t help it. He’s spooked.

CUT TO:

EXT. OLD HOUSE - NIGHT

Troy punches the gas. The car tears onto the road.

INT. TOYOTA - MOVING - NIGHT

Troy. Agitated. He takes a deep, deep breath. Shakes his

head. He’s being silly. As we PULL BACK. REVEALING-

CONSTANCE. Sitting, mute, in the darkness of the back seat.

He doesn’t notice her.

ANGLE ON THE REARVIEW MIRROR

Finally, Troy glances into the mirror. Eyes widen. GASPS-

BLACKOUT.

END OF ACT ONE:

20.

ACT TWO:

EXT. I-5 FREEWAY - DAWN

BLUR of RUSHING ASPHALT, as we ROCKET down the Interstate.

CUE MUSIC. And you can take your anemic alternative pop and

shove it up your ass. We’re playing Dean’s music--

adrenaline pumping METAL-- and we’re playing it loud.

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