Translated By The Community Of WWW.MY-SUBS.COM
Look, Dad's gone now. We have to carry out his legacy.
And that means hunting down as many evil sons of bitches as we possibly can.
- Lisa. - Dean, ha, ha.
If you wanna stick around, you're welcome to stay.
I can't. I got a lot of work to do.
And it's not my life.
Bela Talbot's her real name.
I procure unique items for a select clientele.
A thief. A great thief.
You wanna break Dean of that demon deal...
...you ain't gonna find the answer in no book.
- Then where, Bobby? - Kid, I wish I knew.
I've been busting my ass trying to keep you alive and you couldn't care less.
I don't want you to worry about me. I want you to worry about you.
I want you to give a crap that you're dying.
Every damn demon, they were all human once?
Every one I've ever met.
The answer is yes, by the way. Same thing will happen to you.
There's no way of saving me from the pit, is there?
No.
Oh! I'm sorry.
Sir?
Wake up.
Wake up, you hear me? Wake up.
Sir, wake up!
Help! I need some help in here!
Cheers.
There you are. What are you doing?
Having a drink.
It's 2 in the afternoon. Drinking whiskey?
- I drink all the time. - No, you don't.
What's the big deal?
You get sloppy in bars, you hit on chicks all the time. Why can't I?
It's kind of slim pickings around here.
What's going on with you?
I tried, Dean.
- To do what? - To save you.
Could I get a whiskey, double, neat.
- I'm serious, Dean. - No, you're drunk.
I mean, where you're going...
...what you're gonna become.
I can't stop it.
I'm starting to think maybe even Ruby can't stop it.
But really, the thing is, no one can save you.
- I've been telling you. - No, that's not what I mean.
I mean, no one can save you because you don't wanna be saved.
I mean, how can you care so little about yourself?
What's wrong with you?
Hello?
Yes, this is Mr. Sniderson.
What?
Where?
So, what's the diagnosis?
We've tested everything we can think to test.
- He seems perfectly healthy. - Except that he's comatose.
Mr. Sniderson, you're his emergency contact.
Anything we should know? Any illnesses?
No, he never gets sick. I mean, he doesn't even catch cold.
Doctor, is there anything you can do?
Look, I'm sorry, but we don't know what's causing it...
...so we don't know how to treat it.
He just...
...went to sleep and didn't wake up.
So, what was Bobby doing in Pittsburgh?
Unless he was taking an extremely lame vacation...
I mean, he must have been working a job, right?
Well, you think there'd be some sort of sign or something, you know?
Research, news clippings...
Or a frigging pizza box or a beer can.
How about this?
Good old Bobby, always covering up his tracks.
You make heads or tails of any of this?
"Silene capensis," which, of course, means absolutely nothing to me.
Here, obit.
"Dr. Walter Gregg, 64, university neurologist. "
- How'd he bite it? - Um, actually, they don't know.
They say he just went to sleep and didn't wake up.
That sound familiar to you?
All right, um...
So let's say Bobby was looking into the doc's death.
- Hunting after something... - That started hunting him.
Yeah.
See if you can make heads or tails of this.
- What are you gonna do? - Look into the good doctor myself.
So you're Dr. Gregg's lab assistant?
That's right.
Well, his death must have come as a shock to you.
Yeah, it did.
But, still, go in your sleep, peaceful... That's what you wish for, right?
Yeah. Right.
Dr. Gregg, uh, studied sleeping disorders?
Dreams?
I don't understand. I went over this with the other detective.
- You spoke to another detective? - Yes. A very nice older man with a beard.
Well, I'd love to hear it again.
Thing is, I'm sort of busy. Maybe we could do this later?
Sure. Yeah.
Just bring you down to the station later this afternoon.
Get your statement on tape, do it all official-like.
Look, okay, I didn't know about Dr. Gregg's experiments.
- Not until I was cleaning out his files. - His experiments, uh...?
The ones he was conducting on sleeping?
No one knew, okay? Not the university, not anybody.
I already spoke with a lawyer, he told me I can't be held liable for anything.
Maybe you couldn't, but that was before the new evidence came to light.
- New evidence? - Mm-hm.
What new evidence?
I'm not at liberty to say.
Look, I'm just a grad student, this was a gig to cover tuition.
Maybe so. But, uh, still...
...this could go on your permanent record.
Unless you hand over the doctor's research to me.
All of it.
Look, I don't know what the RA said, but, ahh, I was growing ferns.
Ha. Take it easy, Phish, that's not why I'm here.
Really?
Oh, thank God. Okay.
I wanna talk to you about Dr. Gregg's sleep study.
Yeah. Dr. Gregg just died, right?
- You were one of his test subjects? - Yeah.
Unless you're on duty or whatever?
I guess I can make an exception.
Now, Dr. Gregg was testing treatments for a, uh, "Charcot-Wilbrand syndrome"?
Which means...?
Um, I, uh...
I can't dream.
I had this bike accident when I was a kid...
...and I banged my head pretty good and I haven't had a dream since.
Till the study. You know. Sort of.
- What'd the doc give you? - It's this yellow tea.
- It smelled awful, tasted worse. - What did it do?
Just passed right out.
And I had the most vivid, super-intense dream.
- Like a bad acid trip, you know? - Totally.
- I mean, no. - That was it.
I dropped out of the study right after that. I didn't like it.
To tell you the truth...
...it kind of scared me.
How is he?
No change. What you got?
Well, considering what you told me about the doc's experiments...
...Bobby's wall is starting to make a lot more sense.
- How so? - This plant, Silene capensis...
...is also known as African Dream Root.
It's been used by shaman and medicine men for centuries.
Let me guess. They dose up...
...bust out didjeridus, start kicking around the hackey.
Not quite. If you believe the legends...
...it's used for dreamwalking.
Entering another person's dreams, poking around in their heads.
- I take it we believe the legends? - When don't we?
- Dreamwalking's the tip of the iceberg. - What do you mean?
Dream Root is serious mojo. You take enough of it...
...with practice, you become a regular Freddy Krueger.
You can control anything.
You could turn bad dreams good, you could turn good dreams bad.
And killing people in their sleep?
For example.
So let's say this doc was testing this stuff on his patients, Tim Leary-style.
Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a dream visit...
...he goes nighty-night.
What about Bobby?
I mean, if the killer came after him, how come he's still alive?
I don't know.
Help me!
Somebody help me!
Help me!
So how do we find our homicidal sandman?
- Could be anyone. - Yeah?
Yeah, anyone who knew the doctor and had access to his dream shrooms.
Maybe one of his test subjects?
Possible. But his research was pretty sketchy. I mean...
...I don't know how many subjects he had or who all of them were.
What?
Any other case, we'd be calling Bobby and asking him for help right now.
You know what? You're right.
- What? - Let's go talk to him.
Sure, I think we might find the conversation a bit one-sided.
Not if we're tripping on some Dream Root.
- What? - You heard me.
You wanna go dreamwalking inside Bobby's head?
- Yeah. Maybe we could help. - We have no idea what's in there.
- How bad could it be? - Bad.
Dude, it's Bobby.
Yeah, you're right.
One problem, we're fresh out of African Dream Root.
So unless you know someone who can score some...
- Crap. - What?
- Bela. - Bela?
Crap.
Huh.
- You're suggesting we ask her a favor? - I feel dirty thinking about it, but yeah.
Hey, Sam.
Bela, I didn't think there's a chance in hell you'd show up.
Well, I'm full of surprises.
Though, truthfully...
...you wanna know why I'm here?
Okay.
Because of you.
- Uh, what are you doing? - I can't stop thinking about you.
What?
Are you sure?
Sam. Sam. Sam. Oh.
Sam, wake up!
Dude, you were out.
Making some serious happy noises.
- Who were you dreaming about? - What? No one. Nothing.
- You can tell me. Angelina Jolie? - No.
- Brad Pitt? - No. No.
- It doesn't matter. - Whatever.
- I called Bela.
Bela? Yeah?
What'd she, you know, say?
She gonna help us?
Shockingly, no, which puts us back to square one.
I've been trying to decipher the doctor's notes.
Unfortunately, he has worse handwriting than you do.
You wanna come help me with this stuff?
Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec.
- Bela. As I live and breathe. - You called me. Remember?
I remember you turning me down.
Well, I'm just full of surprises.
Hey, Bela. What's going on?
I brought you your African Dream Root.
Nasty stuff, and not easy to come by.
Why the sudden change of heart?
What, I can't do you a little favor every now and again?
No. You can't.
Come on, I wanna know what the strings are before you attach them.
You said this was for Bobby Singer, right?
Well. I'm doing it for him, not you.
Bobby? Why?
He saved my life once.
In Flagstaff.
I screwed up and he saved me, okay? You satisfied?
Maybe.
So when do we go on this little magical mystery tour?
Oh, you're not going anywhere.
I don't trust you enough to let you in my car, much less Bobby's head.
No offense.
None taken.
- It's 2 a. m. Where am I supposed to go? - Get a room.
They got the Magic Fingers, Casa Erotica on pay-per-view. You'll love it.
You...
Nice to... Seeing you...
...Bela.
Should we dim the lights and synch up Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon?
Why?
What did you do during college?
Wait, wait, wait.
Can't forget this.
Here.
- What the hell is that? - Bobby's hair.
We have to drink Bobby's hair?
That's how you control whose dream you're entering. Drink some of their...
Some of their body.
Well, guess the hair of the dog is better than other parts of the body.
- Bottoms up. - Yeah.
Feel anything?
No.
You feel anything?
No.
Maybe we got some bad shwag.
Hey, when did it start raining?
When did it start raining upside down?
Okay, I don't know what's weirder, the fact that we're in Bobby's head...
...or that he's dreaming of Better Homes and Gardens.
Wait. Wait a sec. Imagine the place without the paint job.
More cluttered, dusty, books all over the place.
- It's Bobby's house. - Yeah.
Bobby?
Dean?
- I'm gonna go look outside. - No, no, stay close.
Dude, I'll be fine. Just look around in here.
Look, we gotta find him.
Don't do anything stupid.
Dean!
Bobby?
Bobby.
Who's out there?
Bobby, you in there?
Dean? - Yeah. It's me. Open up.
Hey.
How in the hell did you find me?
Sam and I got our hands on some of that Dream Root stuff.
Dream Root? What?
Dr. Gregg, the experiments?
What the hell are you talking about?
Hurry.
- What's going on? - She's coming.
Okay, you know this is a dream, don't you?
- What are you, crazy? - It's a dream, none of this is real.
Does that look made-up?
Bobby, who is that?
She's... She's my wife.
Why, Bobby?
Why did you do this to me?
I would rather die myself than hurt you.
But you did hurt me.
You shoved that knife into me.
Again and again.
You watched me bleed.
Watched me die.
- Bobby, she's not real. - How could you?
You were possessed, baby. You were rabid.
And I didn't know what I know now.
- I didn't know how to save you. You're lying.
You wanted me dead.
If you'd loved me, you would've found a way.
- I'm sorry. - Come on.
- Who are you? - Who are you?
You don't belong here.
You're one to talk. You're in my friend's head.
You got a poor choice in friends. This is self-defense. He came after me.
He wanted to hurt me.
Maybe because you're a killer.
You should be nicer to me.
In here...
...you're just an insect. I'm a god.
I'm telling you, all of it. Your house, your wife, it's a nightmare.
- I killed her. - Bobby!
This is your dream that you can wake up. I mean, hell, you can do anything.
Just leave me alone. Let her kill me already.
Look at me. You snap out of this now. You gotta snap out of this now.
You're not gonna die. I'm not gonna let you die.
You're like a father to me.
You gotta believe me, please.
- I'm dreaming? - Yes. Now take control of it.
I don't believe it.
Believe it.
Now would you please wake up?
Sweet dreams.
Hey, Bobby.
That, uh...
That stuff, all that stuff with your wife?
That actually happen?
Everybody got into hunting somehow.
- I'm sorry. - Don't be sorry.
If it weren't for you, I'd still be lost in there.
Or dead.
Thank you.
So, uh, stoner boy wasn't in his dorm. My guess is he's long gone by now.
- He ain't much of a stoner. - No?
No. His name's Jeremy Frost.
Full-on genius. Hundred-and-sixty IQ.
Which is saying something, considering his dad took a baseball bat to his head.
Here's Father of the Year.
- He died before Jeremy was 10. - Looks like a real sweetheart.
Injury gave him Charcot-Wilbrand, he hasn't dreamt since.
- Till he started dosing the dream drug. - Yep.
How'd he know how to dig up your worst nightmare and throw it at you?
He was rooting around in my skull. God knows what he saw in there.
How'd he get in there?
Isn't he supposed to have your DNA or something?
- Yeah. Yeah.
Before I knew it was him, he offered me a beer.
I drank it.
Dumbest frigging thing.
Oh, I don't know. It wasn't that dumb. Ha.
- Dean, you didn't. - I was thirsty.
Great, now he can come after either one of you.
We'll just have to find him first.
We better work fast and coffee up.
Because one thing we cannot do is fall asleep.
This Jeremy guy's not a frigging ghost. Where the hell could he be?
You sure you don't want me to drive? You seem a little...
...caffeinated. - Thanks for the news flash, Edison.
- Tell me you got something. - Strip club was a bust, huh?
Yeah.
- That was our last lead. - What the hell, Bobby.
Don't yell at me, boy. I'm working my ass off here.
Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm tired.
- Well, who ain't? What's Bela got?
- What do you got, Bela? Sorry.
Sometimes the spirit world is in a chatty mood, and sometimes it isn't.
- She's got nothing. Great.
Well, I'm just gonna go blow my brains out now.
Let me ask you something.
What are you doing helping us?
Bobby, I'm surprised you don't remember.
Flagstaff?
Oh.
Yeah.
Right.
Flagstaff.
All right, that's it. I'm done.
- What are you doing? - Taking myself a long-overdue nap.
What? Dean, Jeremy can come after you.
- That's the idea. - Excuse me?
Come on, we can't find him, so let him come to me.
On his own turf? Where he's basically a god?
I can handle it.
- Not alone, you can't. - Ow!
- What are you doing? - Coming in with you.
- No, you're not. - Why not?
At least then it'll be two against one.
- I don't want you digging in my head. - Too bad.
Dean.
Jeez.
For the love of God.
- What are we still doing here? - I have no idea.
There's someone out there.
Hey.
You gonna sit down?
Come on.
We only have an hour before we have to pick Ben up from baseball.
I've never had this dream before.
Stop looking at me like that.
- Sorry. - Dean.
I love you.
Where'd she go?
Dean.
Okay.
Dean?
Jeremy?
Hey, Dean.
Well, aren't you a handsome son of a gun.
We need to talk.
I get it. I get it.
I'm my own worst nightmare, that it? Huh?
Kind of like the Superman llI junkyard scene?
A little mano y mano with myself?
Joke all you want, smart-ass.
But you can't lie to me. I know the truth.
I know how dead you are inside.
How worthless you feel.
I know how you look into a mirror...
...and hate what you see.
Sorry, pal, it's not gonna work.
- You're not real. - Sure I am.
- I'm you. - I don't think so.
See, this is my siesta.
Not yours.
All I gotta do is snap my fingers and you go bye-bye.
I'm not going anywhere.
Neither are you.
Like I said...
...we need to talk.
Dean.
Hey.
Wake up.
Boy, you just don't know when to leave well enough alone, do you?
- You're a psycho. - You're wrong.
Yeah? Tell that to Dr. Gregg.
The doc? No, no.
The doc's the one that got me hooked on this stuff and then he took it away.
But I needed it, and he wouldn't let me have it.
So you killed him?
I can dream again.
You know what that's like, not to be able to dream?
You never rest, not really. It's like being awake for 15 years.
And let me guess, that makes you go crazy?
I just wanna be left alone.
I just wanna dream.
Sorry. Can't do that.
That's the wrong answer.
I'm getting better and better at this.
Stronger and stronger all the time.
But you and your brother...
...you're not waking up.
Not this time.
I'm not gonna let you.
I mean, you're going to hell and you won't lift a finger to stop it?
Talk about low self-esteem.
Then again, it's not much of a life worth saving.
Wake up, Dean. Wake up.
After all, you've got nothing, outside of Sam.
You are nothing.
You're as mindless and obedient as an attack dog.
- That's not true. - No?
What are the things that you want?
What are the things that you dream?
I mean, your car, that's Dad's.
Your favorite leather jacket, Dad's. Your music, Dad's.
Do you even have an original thought?
No. No, all there is is, "Watch out for Sammy.
Look after your little brother, boy!"
You can still hear your Dad's voice in your head, can't you?
- Clear as a bell. - Just shut up.
When you think about it...
...all he ever did was train you, boss you around.
But Sam...
Sam, he doted on.
- Sam, he loved. - I mean it.
- I'm getting angry. - Dad knew who you really were.
A good soldier and nothing else.
Daddy's blunt little instrument.
Your father didn't care whether you lived or died.
- Why should you? - Son of a bitch!
My father was an obsessed bastard!
All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam, that was his crap.
He's the one who couldn't protect his family.
He's the one who let Mom die.
Who wasn't there for Sam. I always was. He wasn't fair!
I didn't deserve what he put on me. And I don't deserve to go to hell!
You can't escape me, Dean.
You're gonna die.
And this, this is what you're gonna become.
You can't stop me.
There's nothing I can't do in here.
- Because of the Dream Root. - That's right.
Yeah? Well, you're forgetting something.
What's that?
I took the Dream Root too.
Jeremy!
No.
- Dad? - Answer me when I'm talking to you.
No.
So you did a little dream-weaving of your own in there, huh?
Yeah. I just sort of concentrated and it happened, you know?
Didn't have anything to do with...
...you know, your psychic stuff?
No.
I mean, I don't think so.
Good. Good.
You guys seen Bela? She's not in her room, not answering her phone.
- She must've taken off or something. - Just like that? A little weird.
What's weird is why she helped us in the first place.
I thought you saved her life.
What the hell are you talking about?
That thing at Flagstaff?
That thing at Flagstaff was an amulet. I gave her a good deal, that's all.
Well, then why did...?
You boys better check your pockets.
Not literally.
No, no, no.
The Colt.
Bela stole the Colt.
Damn it, boys.
Pack your crap.
Why? Where we going?
We're gonna go hunt the bitch down.
Hey, Sam, I was wondering.
When you were in my head, what did you see?
Uh, just Jeremy. He kept me separated from you.
Easier to beat my brains out that way, I guess.
What about you? You never said.
Nothing. I was looking for you the whole time.
- Sam. - Yeah?
Ahem. I've been doing some thinking.
And...
Well, the thing is...
...I don't wanna die.
I don't wanna go to hell.
All right. Yeah.
We'll find a way to save you.
Okay, good.
You can't escape me, Dean. You're gonna die.
And this? This is what you're gonna become.