- Name's Crowley. - You're Crowley.
So you have heard of me. I can give you anything.
- All I need is- - My soul.
- You sold your soul? - More like pawned it.
- I intend to give it back. - Give it back.
- I can't. - Can't or won't?
I won't, all right? It's insurance.
Rufus Turner is a hunter.
- Old friends? - Friend?
He's not the Christmas-card type.
Sheriff Jody Mills. I don't believe we've had the pleasure.
- Agent Willis speaking. - Bobby?
- Oh. - So you know Bobby Singer.
I thought the sheriff hated you. She did till five days ago.
What happened five days ago?
The dead started rising all over town.
- Bobby, you just gonna sit there? - No, I'm gonna river dance.
Really wasted that crossroads deal.
- Son of a bitch. - Hello. King of the crossroads.
- Are you okay? - Yeah, I'm great.
There's been a few times you got me wondering.
Something's different with you.
- I'm okay. - You went to hell, Sam.
Yesterday, this shoreline was pounded...
by winds up to 150 miles per hour.
But today, well, there's not a cloud in sight.
Hurricane Tiffany has broken up over the Gulf and...
- Been making merry, have we? - Bite me.
If that's your thing.
That swan dive of Sam's was a thing of beauty.
Tens all the way around, standing O from the Romanian judge.
You should be proud, Bobby. As deaths go, wasn't too shabby.
Cheer up, mate.
We just saved the sodding world together.
Me, I've been celebrating.
- Hate to see what you call celebrating. - Yes, you would.
- Drink? - No.
Let me get this straight.
We saved the sodding world together...
and you're too good to drink with me?
Obviously.
And I doubt that you have my brand.
What's your poison, Your Highness?
Craig, aged 30 years at least. Been drinking it since grade school.
Well, I got old rotgut, aged six days.
Swill like that is gonna burn a hole in your soul.
Oh, sorry. My soul.
But that's why you called? Our little deal?
Yeah, well, it's about time you hold up your end and give it back.
- Give it back? - Our deal was we ice Lucifer...
you rip up the lease.
Oh.
- You didn't read your contract? - The hell you talking about, contract?
Paragraph 18, subsection B, which is on your naughty bits.
I only have to make best efforts to give you back your soul.
Meaning what?
Meaning I'd like to...
- but I can't. - You lying sack of-
Ten years...
you come to Daddy.
Till then, I suggest you start drinking the good stuff.
I figured you'd say that.
So you can rot here till you change your mind.
- Why? Because you asked nicely? - No.
Because I'm going Dateline on your ass.
I hope that's paint.
Really?
What am I going to do?
Doggie breath. Bracing, isn't it?
Ball's in your court, Robert.
Ten years of living.
Or ten years as Alpo.
- This ain't over. - I wouldn't have it any other way.
Happy hunting.
No EMF.
You find anything in there?
Yeah. I've got some kind of a claw.
What in the hell has a claw like that?
That's a good question.
Maybe he's in the can.
- Yeah? - What happened? Fall and can't get up?
Hilarious. What's up?
We're in Wisconsin. Six bodies, chests cracked wide open.
No EMF, no sulfur, no hex bags.
We did find this, though. Hang on.
Check your Wang.
That's a new one.
Yeah, we need an ID, ASAP.
Thing's on a rampage. Call as soon as you dig something up.
Dean, I'm a little busy.
Kick Bo Derek out of your bathtub, we got a case.
I'll call you back.
Balls.
Come on.
Balls.
You're hunting a lamia.
Come again? It's a monster.
Juices hearts, chugs the blood.
Never heard of one popping up outside Greece, though.
It looks like this freak is immigrating. Snacking on cheeseheads.
- How do we gank it? - Aah.
There's a couple of ways.
Easiest is a silver knife blessed...
- by a padre. - Gotcha.
You're welcome.
Hey, I'm still here!
Hey there, cranky.
You were gone so long, I just assumed alcoholic coma.
- Where were we? - Your soul.
Right. Talk.
Look at you, all in a rush.
Foreplay gets you more play.
I want Crowley's name.
His real name, back when he was flesh and blood.
Does tying demons up make you feel better...
about that time you killed your wife?
- What's that? - You don't recognize them?
They're yours.
It won't work. It's a myth.
Then you got nothing to worry about.
I can't. Aah!
- You don't know what he'll do to me. - Right now you worry about me.
You don't get it. He's the king-
King of the crossroads, I've heard the speech.
No.
King of hell.
You gonna get that or what?
Marcy. Bobby Singer...
- how long have we been neighbors? - Six months?
Well, don't you think it's time you welcomed me to the neighborhood?
My famous ginger peach cobbler.
Take a whiff. Seriously. I'm a genius.
Help me! Somebody help me!
Um, it's some stupid horror flick. It's a guilty pleasure.
Oh, I love scary movies. Hey, have you seen Drag Me To Hell?
- Trying to avoid it. - But it's fantastic.
Saturday, 7:00, my house.
I'll fix you dinner, and I'll whip up a batch of my white chocolate popcorn...
and we'll watch it. Deal?
That sounds super, Marcy, but, uh...
Okay, no worries.
Um, hey, one other thing.
Uh, my woodchipper, it's a piece of crap, you know?
It just broke down on me, and I hear that you're quite handy.
Maybe you could come over and take a look?
You know, just whenever.
I'll see what I can do.
Okay.
Okay, see you soon.
Oh, she sounds nice.
Are you gonna make sweet love to her before you stab her to death, Bobby?
That is your usual thing, right?
I want Crowley's name. Now!
- Crowley's name. - Okay. Okay.
MacLeod. Fergus MacLeod.
Swear. We call him Lucky the Leprechaun behind his back.
MacLeod's Scottish, Einstein.
You got what you want. Now send me back-No.
We had a deal.
- Gave it my best effort. - No.
Yeah, Garth, what do you got?
I never heard of a vamp doing that.
Doesn't sound like our kind of thing. Drop a dime to the FBI.
Willis, FBI.
No, Garth, not me "the FBI."
The real FBI.
How are you still alive?
You got Castle.
No. Yeah? Willis.
Uh-huh. Of course she's one of ours.
If she said she's gotta dig that grave up, you better damn well let her.
Oh, good. You're home. Listen. You gotta help me bury a body.
Why did you bring it here? The law is on my tail.
What was your guess?
- What, what, what? They got lucky. - Yeah, or you're getting slow.
Oh, I'm getting slow. Yeah, says Mr. Sits-on-His-Ass-All-Day-Taking-Calls.
- Vamp, shifter, what? - None of the above.
Okami? Where did you shiv it?
Get this, Billings.
Only time I ever saw one of these was in Japan.
Duh. No one's ever seen one of these except in Japan.
For what it's worth, Sam and Dean are tracking a lamia in Wisconsin.
Get out. I thought they never leave Greece.
Monsters lately.
Is it me, or is it weird?
Yeah, well, it's definitely something.
So you got a shovel?
Man, I know what I want for Hanukkah.
So the son of a bitch's name is Fergus MacLeod?
That's the son of a bitch's name.
Where you gonna look?
Scotland.
Crowley let slip that he likes Craig. It's, um-
It's Scotch.
Only made and sold in a tiny area on the north tip of Caithness County.
It's peaty and sharp with a long finish of citrus and tobacco notes.
What? What am I, a heathen? I know what Craig is.
Well, I got a hunch that that's where Crowley lived and died.
Back when he was a human.
Few hundred years before he got the big squeeze in hell and came out a demon.
You know, I got contacts over there.
I can make a few calls.
I ain't asking for no help.
I'm not asking for your permission.
- Another way to kill a lamia? - What happened to the knife...
blessed by a priest?
It didn't pan out. What's Plan B?
- Grr. - Unh. Dean. Aah!
Police. Come on, Bobby, get the lead out.
- Where are you? - Church. A rectory.
Is there a kitchen? Find salt and rosemary.
Open up, Singer.
Mr. Singer? I'm Agent Adams, I believe you know Sheriff Mills.
My Mom. Just a sec.
- Rosemary. I got it. - Great, great.
Now, blend the herbs...
and sauté over a high heat.
Cook well.
Sammy. Fire in the hole.
Okay, great. Great. Enjoy the roast, Mom.
Have you seen this man?
Rufus Turner, a. k.a. Luther Vandross, a. k.a. Ruben Studdard?
No. Never seen that dick.
- How do you know he's a dick? - Lucky guess.
Funny, because I got a couple guys working the highway...
say they saw him here. Carrying a body.
Well, that's ridiculous. Look, it's a work day, I gotta-
We just wanna take a look around.
You got a warrant, sonny?
Well, do I need one, sir?
Okay, fellas, put the rulers away, zip up.
Look, Bobby here's kind of a crank.
He ain't what you'd call a fan of Big Brother. Me and him-
- How long I been arresting you, 10 years? Thereabouts.
Yeah. We got a history.
So, what do you say you just let me scope the place out?
Is that okay? You can just wait outside.
Five minutes. Great.
- Why send him outside? - I didn't think you'd want him in here.
- I don't. Got a body in basement. - My point.
Yeah, but I've got another body buried in the yard.
Damn it.
- He's not there. - Balls.
Mr. Singer, come with me, please.
You mind explaining this?
What, you've never had a septic tank explode on you?
I got it pretty well cleaned up, but watch where you step.
Get back here. Get backl'm two states over, Bobby.
- The okami ain't dead. - Of course it is.
Did you use a bamboo dagger? Yeah.
- Blessed by a Shinto priest? - I'm not an imbecile, Bobby.
- Did you stab it seven times? - Five times.
It's seven.
No, I'm pretty sure it's five.
Well, clearly it's seven times.
The damn hole is empty.
What was it feeding on?
Single white females.
While they slept.
- Bobby? - Where's your bedroom?
Bobby, I am trying to keep my cool here...
but what are you doing in my house with a shotgun?
Have you seen anything weird?
You mean, besides you?
Bobby! No! Look out!
I, uh...
I thought your chipper was broke.
I just said that to get you over here.
Oh.
Well...
I guess I could come over for dinner some night.
Might be fun.
I don't think so.
Story of my life.
You're still alive, huh?
Don't act so surprised.
How about Godzilla? Put her down.
You just happened to have a bamboo dagger...
- blessed by a Shinto priest around? - Woodchipper.
Oh, okey-dokey, woodchipper.
That pretty much trumps everything.
Listen, Bobby, uh...
thank you.
- I screwed up. - Forget it.
I figure I still owe you more than you owe me.
Alrighty. Then add one more thing to the list.
I got a lead on your boy, Crowley...
a. k.a. Fergus Rodric MacLeod...
born in Canisbay, Scotland, 1661.
I don't know what that's gonna get me.
All right, well, then behind Door Number 2, Bob.
Crowley had a son.
Did he, now?
Name of Gavin. Moved across the pond after his parents bit it.
Captained a trading ship that went down in Massachusetts in 1723.
Cousteau wannabes found the wreck 30 years ago.
They fish out his bones? No. No.
They did find his signet ring, though.
It's part of the Treasures from the Deep exhibit...
at the maritime museum in Andover.
I need that ring.
Oh. Oh, are you, um-?
Are you asking for my help, Bob?
Bobby?
I'm asking for a ring.
And I'd appreciate...
your help getting it.
Ha, ha. I'm way ahead of you.
I'm headed for Andover now. Should be there around midnight.
You're, um-
You're thinking hostage exchange, aren't you?
I mean, get the ring, you can summon junior's ghost.
Get the ghost, you can swap Crowley his son for your soul.
Something like that.
Let's hope that works out.
Dean, you all right?
Yeah. Yeah, the lamia grilled up fine.
I sense a "but" coming on.
It's Sam, Bobby.
It's just he's different.
You know, and I get it. You go through something like that and you change.
But something's not right to me.
Dean-I've got questions.
About that year, you saw him and I didn't-
- I got another call. - You what?
Just hang on. I gotta take this, it's important.
More important than Sam?
- Bobby? - Rufus?
The good news is I snagged the ring.
Tell me that ain't-Yeah.
Three guesses and one of them, it ain't the paramedics.
- I gotta stash this ring. - Don't swallow it.
Right. I'm swallowing it, Bobby.
Don't swallow it.
Ah.
Damn it. Oh, hell.
Hands where I can see them.
Whoa, whoa. Yo, that is unnecessary force.
I know my rights.
Move. Hey.
You still there? Bobby, what the hell?
I Sorry.
You know, you are the one person that I can talk to about this stuff.
About Sam, about leaving Lisa and Ben.
I mean, I don't even know which way is up right now.
Bobby?
Hello?
I hear you, son. It just ain't a good time.
Yeah, okay. You know what? Forget it.
I mean, I'm baring my soul like a frigging girl here...
and you got stuff to do.
So that is-That's fine.
That's fine. Seriously, a little selfish.
It's not all about you.
Where's your brother?
- Outside. - Get him.
You're on speaker, Bobby.
Sam, Dean?
I love you like my own. I do.
But sometimes-
Sometimes you two are the whiniest...
most self-absorbed sons of bitches I ever met.
I'm selfish? Me?
I do everything for you.
Everything.
You need some lore scrounged up?
You need your asses pulled out of the fire?
You need someone to bitch to about each other?
You call me and I come through.
Every damn time.
And what do I get for it?
Jack with a side of squat.
- Bobby- - Do I sound like I'm done?
Now, look, I know you got issues.
God knows I know.
But I got a news flash for you.
You ain't the center of the universe.
Now, it may have slipped your mind that Crowley owns my soul...
and the meter is running.
And I will be damned if I am gonna sit around and be damned!
So how about you two sack up and help me for once?
Bobby, all you gotta do is ask.
Anything you need, we're there.
Got a call from Marcy Ward. Seems she had a little home invasion.
Told her I'd look into it. Didn't bother filing a report.
Thanks.
Need a favor.
Luther Vandross turn up? Tell him I'm a fan.
His real name is Rufus Turner.
He's being held in Andover, Mass, on a burglary charge.
Need you to get him extradited here.
- Extradited for what? - Murder.
You're not joking.
Do you have any idea what it takes to extradite a prisoner?
I'd need a court order, permission from the DA.
I would have to call in every marker I got and hand out a few to boot.
So you're saying there's a chance?
If by some miracle we can get him, then what?
Your pal's here on a murder charge. How are you gonna get him out?
Let me handle the B-side.
I like you, Bobby.
But this could nuke my career.
Look, I've done a lot for this town.
Some you know about, some you don't.
And I'm not real good at this whole "asking for help" thing, but...
I'm sorry, Bobby.
I can't.
Miss me?
- How did you-? - Don't ask.
You got one hour and then I call the feds and tell them he busted out.
- Thanks. - I lose my job over this...
I am taking it out of your ass.
Tell me the ring is still in your stomach.
I'll go boil some water.
What?
Gavin MacLeod?
Is-?
Is this hell?
That's gonna depend on you.
You Fergus MacLeod's boy?
You and me...
are gonna have a nice, long chat.
Well, you look like hammered crap.
And you're a vision, as always.
Don't we both know how this game ends?
Really, you gotta know when to fold them.
Word on the street is that ever since Lucifer went to the pokey...
you're the big kahuna downstairs.
- I see you've been reading the trades. - Trouble in paradise?
Mate, you have no idea.
I thought...
when I got the corner office, I thought it was all gonna be rainbows...
and two-headed puppies.
But if I'm being honest, it's been hell.
Thought that was the point.
You know what the problem with demons is?
- They're demons? - Exactly.
Evil, lying prats, the whole lot of them.
And stupid.
Try to show them a new way, a better way, and what do you get?
Bugger all.
You know, there's days...
that I think Lucifer's whole "spike anything with black eyes" plan...
wasn't half bad.
Hmm.
Feels good to get it off my chest. We should make this a thing.
Do I look like Dr. Phil to you?
A little.
Anyhoo, obviously not here for a social call...
so on with it.
- I want- - Ah. I'll save you the recap.
In fact, I'll do the shorthand for you.
"I want my soul back, idiot."
"Afraid not."
"But I'm surly and I got a beard. Give me."
Blah, blah, blah, homespun cornpone insult...
witty retort from yours truly...
and the bottom line is, you get bupkis.
- Are we done? - Just getting started.
Gavin?
Is that you?
It's been so long.
I love you so-
Sorry.
Your soul for my boy. That's it, right?
I gotta give you credit for thinking outside the box on that one.
But the problem is, I loathe the little bastard.
Wanna torture him? Let me pull up a chair and watch.
Hell, burn his bones, send him down to me.
We can have a family reunion. That's right, son?
You picked the wrong bargaining chip this time.
He ain't a chip.
I was just using him to dig up dirt on you.
And since Gavin hates you maybe even more than you hate him...
he was more than happy to squawk.
What did you tell him, son?
Everything.
I know it all now...
Fergus.
Now, you may be king of the dirtbags here, but in life?
You were nothing but a two-bit tailor who sold his soul...
in exchange for an extra 3 inches below the belt.
Just trying to hit double digits.
So you got a glimpse behind the curtain.
- And? - And now I know where you're planted.
Hi, Crowley.
Dean. It's been a long time. We should get together.
Sure. We'll have to do that when I get back.
Back? Yeah.
Me and Sam, we've gone international.
In fact, we're in your neck of the woods.
- Did you really used to wear a skirt? - A kilt.
I had very athletic calves.
What's the game? Dominoes.
In fact, we just dug yours up.
This is ridiculous. The whole burning bones thing. It's a myth.
I know an employee of yours who'd disagree.
What's that? You don't recognize them?
They're yours.
- That's where she got to. - You demons.
You think you're something special.
But you're just spirits.
Twisted, perverted, evil spirits.
But end of the day, you're nothing but ghosts with an ego.
We torch your bones, you go up in flames.
You hear that, Crowley?
That's me flicking my Bic for you.
Your bones for my soul.
Going once.
Going twice.
Bollocks.
You can go ahead and leave in the part about my legs.
Pleasure doing business with you.
Now, if you don't mind.
I believe those are mine.
You know, now that I think about it, maybe I'll just napalm your ass anyhow.
Dean, he's a dick, but a deal's a deal.
I don't need you to fight my battles for me, moose. Get bent.
Now, if you'll excuse me...
I have a little hell to raise.
I appreciate you boys lending a hand.
Hey, any time we get to punk Crowley works for us.
Yeah. Still...
knowing how much you love flying the friendly skies...
I guess a nine-hour plane trip was no picnic.
You drink your way through it? I was fine.
No. He white-knuckled his way through four puke bags.
Well, at least I was sober.
Some nutjob decided to try something, I was ready. I had a fork.
Listen, um...
about the things I said earlier.
I was in a tough spot and I guess I was-
We take you for granted.
You've been cleaning up our messes for years.
Without you, I don't wanna think about where me and Sam would've ended up.
Okay, then let's roll credits on this chick flick.
You boys have a safe flight.
And try some of the local grub. I hear it's exotic.
Yeah, definitely, we are. I hear they have an Olive Garden.
Willis.
Yeah, he is.
One of our best agents, in fact.