Supernatural Page #8

BURROUGHS:

You’re insane.

SAM:

You’re not the first person to say

so. I know how this sounds, I

do... but if I can give you some

proof, will you help me?

BURROUGHS:

And how you gonna do that?

SAM:

(beat)

Well. For one. I think I know

what happened 10 years ago today.

BURROUGHS:

(goes white as a sheet)

How...? I never...

SAM:

There’s fewer and fewer days

between her victims. It’s a

pattern, a countdown. To tonight.

(beat)

This was the night you murdered

her, wasn’t it?

BURROUGHS:

This is a sick joke. Constance

isn’t killing people. It’s

impossible.

SAM:

Whether you believe me or not...

she is. Because of you. Because

of what you did to her.

And Burroughs SHATTERS like GLASS-

BURROUGHS:

I stopped her. She can’t be doingit again. Because I stopped her.

SAM:

...what do you mean?

47.

BURROUGHS:

What difference does it make? No

one ever believes me anyway.

SAM:

Tell me what you mean-

BURROUGHS:

I loved Constance.

SAM:

You kept her locked up-

BURROUGHS:

No. She lived with me, that’s all.

But she liked to hitchhike. Guyswould pick her up. She’d take the

men to her parents’ house, the old

one. And she slashed their throats.

SAM:

Why would she do that...?

BURROUGHS:

When she was little, her parents

beat her. Forced her to fast. So

she could “atone for her sins.”

Until she stabbed ‘em both. Put

‘em in a car, drove it in a ditch,

set it on fire. She was 11 at the

time.

(then)

So when she grew up, she liked to

cut her boyfriends in front of the

house. In front of Mommy and

Daddy, you know, like “look at your

little girl now.”

SAM:

Why didn't you call the police?

BURROUGHS:

...wouldn’t matter. Even if theylocked her up, she’d just keep

killing. No matter what they did

to her, she’d find a way to keep

killing. No. There was only one

way to stop her.

(wretched)

But I did it. I stopped her.

SAM:

Where is she buried?

48.

BURROUGHS:

She was sleeping. And I put a gun

to her head. God forgive me-

SAM:

I need to know where she’s buried-

INT./EXT. IMPALA - MOVING - NIGHT

The storm has begun. Lightning cleaves the night sky. And

the Impala’s engine sounds like the THUNDER. It chargesthrough the pouring rain.

BURROUGHS (V.O.)

...an oak tree... she’s beneath an

oak tree... off Breckenridge Road.

Dean, driving. Focused, determined. Passing Constance’s

ancient HOUSE, on his way to-

EXT. FIELD - NIGHT

Black. Then lightning-- which illuminates a COLOSSAL OAK

TREE. The Impala, off-roading, parks beside it. Dean leaps

out. Pops the TRUNK. From the stockpile of weaponry, Dean

finds a shovel and a crowbar.

Then, using the Impala’s hi-beams as worklights... Dean

begins to dig.

EXT. FIELD - AN HOUR LATER - NIGHT

Three holes already shoveled. No luck, not yet.

INSIDE THE FOURTH PIT. Dean digs. Muddy. Soaking.

The wind RISES-- the oak’s branches begin to shudder.

INSIDE THE IMPALA. The RADIO CLICKS ON. Hissing static.

Still, Dean digs. One man against the howling storm. THUNK.

His shovel hits dull wood. He clears mud away, revealing...

a glimpse of a decomposing PINE BOX.

CUT TO:

OUTSIDE THE PIT. The SHOVEL is tossed out, onto the grass.

Dean’s arm emerges, snagging the CROWBAR.

CUT TO:

INSIDE THE PIT. Dean’s excavated the entire top half of the

make-shift coffin. He begins to PRY the lid.

49.

The wind. The rain. The radio static. They’re all building

to a crescendo-Dean

STRAINS. Finally, nails SNAP. He grips the lid.

Steels himself. And opens it. Looking inside. HORRIFIED.

DEAN:

...no...

The box is EMPTY. No corpse, no bones, NOTHING-INT./

EXT. SAM’S RENTAL CAR - NIGHT

Sam. Driving back to Sanger.

CONSTANCE appears in the headlights! Sam drives right

THROUGH her--

He GASPS, brakes hard! Spinning, wild, on the slick roads.

He barely manages to control the swerving car. Thankfully,

it comes to a stop.

Sam. Panting. Catching his breath. But he doesn’t notice-Constance.

Now sitting in Sam’s back seat.

CONSTANCE:

Take me home.

Sam looks up, icy with fear--

BLACKOUT.

END OF ACT THREE

50.

ACT FOUR:

INT. SAM’S RENTAL CAR - NIGHT

Sam, behind the wheel. Constance, in the back. No sound,

except the muffled patter of rain on steel. No light, except

for the occasional flare of lightning. Once again-CONSTANCE

Take me home.

SAM:

...no...

The doors LOCK, by themselves. The RADIO clicks on,

squealing white noise. The gas pedal depresses.

EXT. CENTENNIAL HIGHWAY - CONTINUOUS

And the car begins to drive, of its own accord. Without

headlights. Through the storming darkness.

INT. SAM’S RENTAL CAR - CONTINUOUS

The untouched steering wheel turns, correcting course.

Sam. Breath coming in short bursts. Mind racing. Trying to

figure out a way to save his own life.

Constance. Behind him. Mute. And there’s something in her

expression. Something malevolent.

EXT. OLD HOUSE - NIGHT

Sam’s rental pulls up the muddy dirt driveway. Stops before

the decrepit house. As if on cue, the ENGINE CUTS OUT.

INT. SAM’S RENTAL CAR - CONTINUOUS

SAM:

...don’t do this...

Once again, Constance gazes at her house-CONSTANCE

I can never go home.

But Sam watches her in the rearview, as she says this. And

he perceives something, that no one’s noticed before...

SAM:

...you’re scared. You’re scared to

go home.

51.

Then... in ONE SHOT... Sam pivots from the rearview (where

Constance is still visible)... to look at her directly...

But she’s VANISHED.

Frantic, Sam whirls for the car door. Trying to unlock it,

but it’s jammed. He throws his shoulder into it-- no good.

He pounds on the glass, about to SMASH it with his elbow-

Lightning. And in the STROBING FLASH-

Constance. Now in the passenger seat, beside Sam. (He’sturned toward his window, doesn’t see her). She’s a rotting

WRAITH. Mouth twisted into a rawboned rictus.

But it’s only for a subliminal split second. When the

lightning snuffs out-- she again DISAPPEARS. Though now we

know... she’s still inside the car.

Suddenly, Sam JOLTS. Shards of excruciating PAIN shoot

through his body. He falls back in his seat. And we see--

his chest. His shoulders. His neck. Everywhere, SLASHING

CLAW MARKS APPEAR (several ripping right through his shirt).

Lightning-- and for a flash, there’s Constance, straddling

Sam, savagely TEARING at him. Then... the lightning

vanishes, and so does she.

Sam’s hands. Fumbling for the ignition. Trying to turn the

engine. But his hands are WRENCHED away, by invisible

forces. CUTS criss-cross his wrists, his arms. Sam

struggles, SHOUTS in agony. He’s a goner for sure... when-

SMASH! The driver’s side window SHATTERS-- a hailstorm of

safety glass beads.

DEAN. Standing outside the car. Pointing a COLT SIX-SHOOTER

at the seemingly thin air in front of Sam.

DEAN:

Let him go, you b*tch.

Dean FIRES! And in the rapid succession of GUNFIRE FLARES--

Constance is VISIBLE, as if in STROBING LIGHT.

She turns to Dean. Unharmed, of course. She grins at him,

vicious. But she’s let go of Sam. And so-

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