Air Date: 26 Mar 2009

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

An alarm clock flips from 5:59 to 6:00 and starts beeping. A hand shuts it off.

Music: 'Cause he gets up in the morning

INT. KITCHEN - DAY

A coffee cup being filled from an espresso machine.

Music: And he goes to work at nine

The cup is held by Dean, who is in business dress with his hair slicked down.

Music: And he comes back home at five-thirty

Gets the Same train every time

'Cause his world is built 'round punctuality

EXT. STREET - DAY

Music: And it never fails

Dean crosses the street to a silver Toyota Prius.

Music: And he's oh so good

INT. PRIUS - DAY

Dean starts the car.

Music: And he's oh-

Rock music blares. Dean looks at it, confused, and changes the station.

Radio

NPR Morning Edition. It's time for this waste and-

EXT. STREET - DAY

Dean drives off in the Prius.

Music: He's a well-respected man about town

Doing the best things so conservatively

EXT. SKYSCRAPER - DAY

INT. LOBBY - DAY

Dean gets out of the elevator and crosses the lobby. There's a Sandover Bridge & Iron history display along one wall.

Music: And he likes his own back yard

And he likes his f*g the best

'Cause he's better than the rest

And his own sweat smells the best

Dean enters an office labeled "Dean SMITH-Director, Sales & Marketing".

Music: And he hopes to grab his father's loot

When Pater passes on

INT. Dean's OFFICE - DAY

Dean types at a computer.

Music: 'Cause he's oh so good

And he's oh so fine

Dean laughs into a phone headset.

Cut to a conversation with SOMEONE now in Dean's office.

Dean: All I wanna know is when are they gonna have another show like Project Runway? Man.

Music: And he's oh so healthy

In his body and his mind

Dean flips his tie over his shoulder and eats a salad.

Music: He's a well-respected man about town

Doing the best things so conservatively

Dean is standing and speaking into the headset.

Dean: Net profitability aside, it's the client-retention rate that concerns me vis-à-vis maximizing return on sales. Buzz me back once you've seen the spreadsheets.

Another SOMEONE enters the office.

Dean: Mr. Adler.

ADLER

Dean.

ADLER slaps Dean on the shoulder.

ADLER

Good stuff.

Dean: Good stuff?

ADLER

Big things. Good stuff.

Dean: Good stuff.

INT. Dean's OFFICE - NIGHT

Dean is sitting at his desk playing with something and speaking into the headset.

Dean: Oh I hear you. No, I haven't been to the gym in ages. Carrying a little bloat around myself. It's a sedentary lifestyle, my man, no two ways. -All right, tell me one more time. You said lemon and-what was it? Cayenne and maple syrup, are you serious? How much did you lose?

Dean puts some files in a case and leaves the office.

Music: He's a well-respected man about town

Doing the best things so conservatively

INT. OFFICE LOBBY - NIGHT

Dean is checking his phone. The elevator dings. Dean enters, focused on the phone. He looks over at the other occupant of the elevator, who is staring at him; it's Sam, who's wearing a short-sleeved shirt that says "Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc. Tech Support".

Sam: Do I know you?

Dean: I don't think so.

Sam: I'm sorry, man, you just look really familiar.

Dean: Save it for the health club, pal.

The elevator dings again and Dean gets out. Sam stares after him.

INT. CUBICLE FARM - DAY

A printer whirs and spits out a paper. A fax machine whirs and sucks in papers. An a*t*matic pencil sharpener whirs. A phone rings. Sam presses a button on the phone and talks into a headset.

Sam: Tech support, this is Sam Wesson. Okay. Uh, well, did you try turning it off and then on?

Sam pokes at a vampire bobblehead.

Sam: Okay, go ahead and turn it off. No no no, just, just off. All right, give it a second. Turn it back on. Okay, is it printing now? Great. Anytime.

Sam takes off the headset and presses a button on the phone. A Man at a cubicle behind Sam, the only one in the room who is not wearing the yellow uniform shirt, rolls his chair over to Sam.

Man: Hey.

Sam: Yo.

Man: What do you think of Mimi?

Sam looks over and shrugs.

Sam: She's okay.

Man: Might have to h*t that.

Sam: Oh, dude, that's totally age-inappropriate.

Man: Experience.

Sam: Trifocals.

Man: There's a MILF there, Sam. I just know it. Maybe a GMILF.

Sam: Come on.

Man: Coffee break?

Sam: Yeah, for sure.

Sam and the Man get up. They pass ANOTHER Man at his cubicle.

Man: Paul. Time for a refuel, buddy.

PAUL

Sorry, no time.

Man: Since when? Dude, we get paid by the hour.

PAUL

Working.

Man: Okay.

Sam: He seems stressed.

Man: Freaked because he got busted surfing p*rn on the Internet.

Sam: No, no, no way. When?

Man: Got sent up to HR yesterday. Guess they put the fear of God in him.

INT. BREAK ROOM - DAY

The microwave dings and someone takes out a bag of popcorn and leaves. Sam heads for the coffeepot. The Man goes to a supply cabinet and starts pocketing packets of pencils.

Sam: Ian, dude.

IAN

Just doing a little shopping. Running low at home.

Sam hands IAN a cup of coffee.

IAN

So, Sam, had any of those dreams lately?

Sam turns away.

IAN

What? Don't be like that. Come on. It's the highlight of my day.

Sam: I never should have told you in the first place.

IAN

They're genius. Don't hold out on me, dude. Share with the class.

Sam: You're just gonna be a dick about it.

IAN

What? No way. I won't say a word. Total respect. Go.

Sam: IAN bursts out laughing. Sam looks away and sighs.

IAN

Classic! How much D&D did you play when you were a kid? Oh, my-okay, so you-rescuing the Grim Reaper. That's-you're a hero. I mean, thank God we got Harry Potter here to save us all from the apocalypse.

Sam: Dick.

IAN

Wizard.

INT. CUBICLE FARM - DAY

A printer whirs and spits out a paper. A fax machine whirs and sucks in papers. An a*t*matic pencil sharpener whirs. Sam is back in his cubicle, filling out a form on a clipboard. He yawns and props his head on his hand, closing his eyes.

INT. ELEVATOR

Sam enters the elevator. Dean and a few others are there. Sam tries not to stare at Dean while the elevator whirs. Ding: everyone but Sam and Dean gets out. The elevator closes.

Sam: Can I ask you a question?

Dean: Look, man, I told you, I'm not into the, uh-

Sam: Oh dude, come on, I'm not either. I just wanna ask you one question.

Dean looks around; there's no escape.

Dean: Sure.

Sam: What do you think about ghosts?

Dean: Ghosts?

Sam: Do you believe in them?

Dean laughs.

Dean: Uh, tell you the truth, I've never given it much thought.

Sam: Vampires?

Dean: What? Why?

Sam: Because I've been having some weird dreams lately. You know what I mean?

Dean: No. Not really.

Sam: So you've never had any...weird dreams?

Dean: All right, look, man, I don't know you, okay? But I'm gonna do a public service and, uh, let you know that-that you overshare.

Dean presses a floor button. The elevator dings and Dean leaves.

INT. CUBICLE FARM - DAY

A printer whirs and spits out a paper. A fax machine whirs and sucks in papers. An a*t*matic pencil sharpener whirs. Sam is again in his cubicle addressing his headset.

Sam: Did you turn it off, then on?

Sam is drawing vampires on a pad of paper.

Sam: All right, well, let's try that. No, no, it's fine, I'll wait.

Sam pulls up a search engine on his computer, looks both ways, and types in 'vampires'. He clicks to image search and glances over the pictures of Dracula wannabes.

Sam: Is it printing now? Oh, that's great. Anytime.

IAN

Whatcha doing?

Sam minimizes the search engine and hides the sketches, then turns to IAN, shaking his head. IAN is still the only one not wearing the yellow shirt.

Sam: Nothing.

IAN

You get an email from Human Resources?

Sam: No. Why?

IAN

Damn it. Guess it's just me, then. I'm supposed to, quote, report to HR, unquote.

Sam: They're probably finally busting you for snaking all those office supplies.

IAN

I hope they spank me.

IAN laughs, shoves his chair back to his cubicle, and leaves. Sam returns to his search engine.

PAUL

No no no no no no. Come on. Don't do this to me. Please.

Sam minimizes the window, takes off his headset, and stands up to lean over PAUL's cubicle.

Sam: Hey, man, you okay?

PAUL

It froze.

Sam: They're crap, Paul. They freeze all the time.

PAUL

You don't understand. When I, when I rebooted, everything was gone. A whole day's work deleted.

Sam: Well, did you back up?

PAUL

No, I didn't back up. I wish to God I backed up but I didn't. I'll get it back. I'll find it. It's somewhere. I'll find it.

Sam: Paul, it's okay, man. These things happen.

INT. CUBICLE FARM - NIGHT

The room is dark and empty except for PAUL's cubicle.

PAUL

Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on. Please. Please.

The screen displays "ERROR: No Files Found".

PAUL

All that work. Gone. Failed.

PAUL's breath is briefly visible. PAUL gets up and walks to the break room. He breaks the tines off two plastic forks, opens the microwave, sticks the forks in where the door latches, enters 10:00 on the timer, sticks his head in, and presses start. Smoke and screams. Cut to black; the microwave dings.

INT. CUBICLE FARM - DAY

People in coroner outfits roll a body bag past. Sam watches and sighs. Dean and several other people, some in suits and some in the yellow shirts, also watch. Sam and Dean notice each other. Dean addresses another SUIT.

Dean: Something about this seem not right to you?

SUIT

Uh, yeah, try the whole thing. I'm telling you, man, I'll never eat popcorn again.

Dean: Yeah, right.

INT. Dean's OFFICE - DAY

Dean is at his computer, accessing the Sandover personnel file for Paul Dunbar. It says his retirement party was supposed to be in two weeks.

Dean: Two weeks?

INT. CUBICLE FARM - DAY

Sam rolls his chair over to IAN's cubicle. IAN is wearing the yellow shirt for the first time and working busily.

Sam: Hey. Why would someone k*ll themselves two weeks before they were supposed to retire? I mean, Paul was two weeks from freedom. He should have been happy, right?

IAN

I don't have time for this, Sam.

Sam laughs.

Sam: That's very funny.

Sam notices IAN's shirt and attitude.

Sam: What's with you?

IAN

I'm working. It's important.

Sam: HR bust your balls or something? You're wearing the shirt. Did you shave?

A phone rings.

IAN

Tech support, this is Ian. Be right up. Gotta go up to twenty-two, speak to a manager.

IAN takes off the headset and leaves.

INT. Dean's OFFICE - DAY

IAN knocks at the open door. Dean looks up from his computer.

Dean: Hi. Ian, is it? Yeah, come on in. Yesterday you filled out a 445-T and no problem, just a few errors when we did your switch over to Vista. So I'm sure you're used to filling out the dash-R's, am I right?

IAN

Oh, no.

Dean: No no no. It's fine. It's fine. I just need you to redo one today so I can get the show on the road with the invoicing.

Dean pushes a paper over the desk and smiles. IAN looks at it, terrified.

IAN

Oh my god.

Dean: No, it's fine. Just refile it and we're square.

IAN

I can't believe I did this.

Dean begins to notice something's wrong.

IAN

I can't believe I-I can't believe I did this.

Dean: Hey, guy, come on.

IAN

No, no. It affected profits. It-I screwed up. I-I can't-I can't-I am so sorry. I-how could I do that? I failed Sandover. I failed the company.

Dean: All right, why don't you sit down, Ian?

IAN

No.

IAN runs out of the room.

Dean: Ian? Ian. Hey.

Dean follows him.

INT. BATHROOM - DAY

Dean enters the bathroom.

Dean: Ian, hey. Just chill out, man. Okay?

IAN is staring into a mirror. Dean's breath is briefly visible. All the faucets come on even though IAN and Dean are the only ones in the room; all the soap dispensers, too.

Dean: Ian, hey, maybe we should get out of here, huh? Come on. Ian. Look at me.

IAN turns toward Dean and pulls a pencil out of his pocket. IAN stares at Dean for a moment, then s*ab himself in the neck. Dean stares at the spout of blood and rushes forward as IAN collapses. Dean looks up and sees an Old Man in the mirror, then turns around and no one's there. IAN goes still.

Dean: Somebody help me!

INT. CORRIDOR - DAY

Dean: No, I, I followed him into the bathroom.

The coroner people roll a body bag past, again with an audience. Dean is talking to a police officer.

Dean: He was, uh-he was standing there in front of the mirror, and then-

Dean sees Sam and stops.

Officer: Continue. Sir.

Dean: And he s*ab himself in the neck. I'm sorry, that's, um...

INT. CUBICLE FARM - DAY

INT. CUBICLE FARM - DAY

A printer whirs and spits out a paper. A fax machine whirs and sucks in papers. An a*t*matic pencil sharpener whirs. A phone rings. Sam answers the phone.

Sam: Tech support, this is Sam.

Dean: I need to see you in my office. Now.

Sam hangs up.

INT. Dean's OFFICE - DAY

Dean buttons up a fresh shirt. He looks up at a knock.

Dean: Come on in. Shut the door.

Sam closes the door behind himself.

Dean: Who the hell are you?

Sam: I'm not sure I know.

Dean: What the hell does that mean?

Sam: Sam Wesson. I started here three weeks ago.

Dean: All right. You cornered me in the elevator talking about ghosts. And now...

Sam: Now what?

A pause.

Dean: Now nothing. I, uh...so you started working here three weeks ago, huh?

Sam nods.

Dean: Yeah, me too.

Dean unscrews the top of a bottle.

Dean: It's the Master Cleanse. You tried it? Phenomenal. Detoxes you like nobody's business.

Dean drinks.

Sam: When you were in that bathroom with Ian, did you see something?

Dean: I don't know. I don't know what I saw.

Sam: Wait. Are you saying that-did you see a ghost?

Dean: I was freaking out. The guy penciled his damn neck.

Sam: You did, didn't you? Okay, listen. What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something not natural?

Dean: So, what, ghosts are real? And they're responsible for all the d*ad bodies around here? Is that what you're telling me?

Dean and Sam finally sit down, in unison.

Sam: I know it sounds crazy. But yes. That's what I'm telling you.

Dean: Uh-huh. Based on what?

Sam looks for an answer.

Sam: Instinct.

Dean looks down, shaking his head, then back up.

Dean: I've got the Same instinct.

Sam: Seriously? You know those dreams I was telling you about? I was dreaming about ghosts.

Dean: Yeah.

Sam: And then it turns out that there's a real ghost.

Dean: So you're telling me that your dreams are special visions and you're some kind of psychic?

Sam: No. I mean, that would be nuts. I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So I've been digging around a little.

Sam pulls papers out of his bag.

Sam: I think I found a connection between the two guys.

Sam passes over the papers. Dean looks at them.

Dean: You broke into their email accounts?

Sam: I used some skills that I happen to have to satisfy my curiosity.

Dean: Nice.

Sam: Yeah. Okay. So it turns out Ian and Paul both got this Same email telling them to report to HR, room fourteen forty-four.

Dean: HR's on seven.

Sam: Exactly.

Dean: Should we go check this out?

Sam: Like right now?

Dean: No. No, it's getting late. You're right.

Sam: I am dying to check this out right now.

Dean: Right?

INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT

A Man in tech support yellow comes through, looking around. He finds door number 1444 and goes inside. It's a storeroom.

INT. STOREROOM - NIGHT

Man: Hello? Hello?

The door slams shut behind the Man. He rattles the doorknob; it's locked. He looks around, seeing no indication of anyone else. All the monitors abruptly come on, showing only static. His breath is briefly visible. Everything rattles.

INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT

Dean and Sam are coming down the corridor when they hear the Man yelling and hurry to room 1444. It's still locked.

INT. STOREROOM - NIGHT

Sam kicks the door open.

Dean: Whoa.

A shelf has fallen on the Man. Dean and Sam hurry over to lift it off him. The Old Man from the bathroom appears behind Dean and flings him into the wall, then shoves Sam over. His hands spark lightning. Dean gets up and swings at the Old Man with a wrench. The Old Man dissipates before he can touch the Man. The monitors shut off and everything stops shaking. Dean and Sam lift the shelves so the Man can scoot out from underneath.

Sam: How'd you know how to do that?

Dean: I have no idea.

INT. Dean's APARTMENT - NIGHT

Dean drinks his Master Cleanse.

Dean: Holy crap, dude.

Sam: Yeah. I could use a beer.

The room is now visible; it's all as upper-class expensive-looking as Dean's business suits and Prius.

Dean: Oh, sorry, man. I'm on the Cleanse. I got rid of all the carbs in the house.

Sam: Hey. How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?

Dean hands Sam a water bottle.

Dean: Crazy, right? And nice job kicking that door too. That was very Jet Li. What are you, like a black belt or something?

Sam: No. I have no clue how I did that. It's like...we've done this before.

Dean: What do you mean, before? Like Shirley MacLaine before?

Sam: No. I-I just can't shake this feeling like I-like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle.

Dean: I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that Same way.

Sam: No. Well, look, it's more than that. Like, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes. I don't like my own last name. I don't know how else to explain it, except that...it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you? You ever feel that way?

Dean: I don't believe in destiny. I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though.

Sam: All right, so, what do we do now?

Dean: We do what I do best, Sammy. Research.

Sam: Okay. Did you just call me Sammy?

Dean: Did I?

Sam: I think you did. Yeah. Don't.

Dean: Sorry.

Dean sits at one laptop at a corner desk and Sam at another laptop at a table.

Dean: Oh, jackpot.

Sam: What you got?

Dean: I just found the best site ever. Real, actual ghost hunters.

Sam goes over to see.

Dean: These guys are genius. Check it out.

Sam: Instructional videos.

Dean is looking at the Ghostfacers website. He pulls up a video. Ed and Harry of the Ghostfacers are wearing white lab coats.

Ed: We know why you're watching.

Harry: You've got a problem.

Ed: A ghost problem.

Harry: A ghost-related problem. A ghost-it's like a ghost-adjacent pr-it's like a problem that's-and the ghost is-

Ed: Whatever. You've come to the right place. The only decent place, really, because the Ghostfacers know how to solve it.

Harry: Period.

Ed: Watch and learn.

Harry: See, the first step in any supernatural fight: Ed and Harry

Figure out what you're up against.

Dean looks over at Sam. On Sam's laptop is an article about the death of Sandover's founder; it has a picture.

Dean: That's him. That's the ghost.

Sam: P. T. Sandover. Died 1916. Devoted his life to his work. No wife, no kids.

The article text visible next to the picture reads "Office 1444 was considered to be the center of the company's operations, with Sandover himself overseeing all details of any construction project the company undertook. / Considered to be a difficult person to work for, P.T. Sandover had an exceptionally high standard of quality, often marching onto construction sites and halting all work until he personally inspected each aspect of the structure. Aiming for perfection is perhaps why the Sandover legacy is so impressive, dominating the industry with the scale and scope of its projects."

Sam: Used to say he was the company, and his very blood pumped through the building.

Dean: Wow, okay. So slight workaholic. Maybe he's still here, you know, watching over the company, even k*lling for it.

Sam: Plus, turns out this isn't the first time people started k*lling themselves in the building. 1929.

Dean: Yeah, but lots of guys jumped off lots of high rises that year.

Sam: How many companies had seventeen suicides?

Dean: Phew. Okay, so P. T. Sandover, protector of the company. His ghost wakes up and becomes active during times of grave economic distress.

Sam: Well, I mean, the worst time we've seen since the Great Depression-

Dean: Is now. Yeah, now sucks. My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even wanna talk about it.

Sam: So Sandover's helping the bottom line-

Dean: By zapping some model employees.

Sam: Yeah. I mean, Ian and Paul. It was like he turned them into different people.

Dean: Perfect worker bees, exactly. So devoted to the company that they would commit hara-kiri if they failed it.

Sam: One more interesting fact. The building wasn't always that high. Used to be fourteen floors. And the room where the ghost att*cked, fourteen forty-four? Once upon a time, that was the old man's office.

Dean and Sam return to watching the Ghostfacers video.

Harry: Once you've got that thing in your sights-

Ed and Harry

You k*ll it.

Harry: Using special ghost-hunting w*apon.

Ed: First, salt. It's like acid to ghosts.

Harry: Burny acid.

Ed: Not LSD.

Harry: No. It's a bad trip for ghosts. Next up, iron.

Sam: That's why the wrench worked.

Ed: Pure power in your hand.

Harry: Dissipates ghosts instantly.

Ed: Next little trick. We learned this from those useless douchebags-

Harry: That we hate.

Ed: The Winchesters.

Harry: g*n.

Ed: g*n shell. Pack it up with fresh rock salt.

Harry: Very effective.

Ed: Very effective.

Harry: Winchesters still suck ass, though.

Ed: Affirmative. Suckage major.

Dean packs two pokers in a duffel bag that contains a salt shaker and unidentifiable items.

Dean: Where do we even get a g*n?

Sam: g*n store?

Dean: Isn't there like some kind of waiting period or something?

Sam: I think so.

Dean: Well, how in the hell-

Sam: I don't know. Seems pretty impossible, honestly.

Dean: Right.

Back to the video.

Ed: The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains.

Harry: Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry.

Ed: It's illegal in some states.

Harry: All states.

Ed: Possibly all states.

Sam: Sandover was cremated.

Dean: What? So what do we do now?

Harry: Now, if the deceased has been cremated-

Ed: Don't panic.

Harry: Don't panic.

Ed: Just gotta look for some other remains.

Harry: A hair in a locket, maybe. Fingernails. Baby teeth.

Ed: Milk teeth.

Harry: Genetic material. You know what we're talking about.

Ed: Go find it.

Harry: Fight well, young lions.

Ed: Godspeed.

INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT

Sam and Dean enter the elevator.

Dean: Set your cell phone to walkie-talkie in case we get separated.

Dean has his phone out; Sam gets his.

Sam: How the hell are we gonna find some ancient speck of DNA in a skyscraper?

Dean: Well, that creepy storeroom used to be Sandover's office, right?

Dean presses button 14.

INT. STOREROOM - NIGHT

Dean and Sam look through the things stored in 1444. Dean goes behind some shelves while Sam r*fles through the desk easily visible from the door.

Guard: What the hell are you doing here?

Sam startles. Dean ducks out of sight.

Sam: Nothing. I just-

Guard: Come with me.

The Guard grabs Sam's arm and shuts the door behind them.

Sam: Man, listen. Look. It's okay. I-I work here.

Guard: Whatever. Tell it to the cops.

The Guard takes Sam down the corridor and into the elevator, which descends several floors. The current-weather screen inside the elevator goes to static, and both men's breath is briefly visible. The elevator screeches to a halt. The Guard uses his elevator key to open the inner doors, then pries open the outer doors; they're stuck between two floors.

Guard: Well, come on.

Something makes an ominous sound.

Sam: What?

Guard: Last time this happened, it took them two hours to get here.

Sam: Let's just wait.

The Guard crawls out, nearly kicking Sam in the face.

INT. STOREROOM - NIGHT

Dean continues to search through drawers. He finds a framed picture of a Sandover bridge.

INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT

The Guard is out of the elevator and turns back for Sam.

Sam: Seriously, I'll wait.

The Guard leans back into the elevator.

Guard: Look, I don't have the rest of my life.

The elevator jerks downward abruptly, decapitating the Guard. Sam's face and shirt are covered in blood spray.

Dean over the phone

Hey. You okay?

Sam slowly reaches for the phone.

Sam: Call you back.

INT. CUBICLE FARM - NIGHT

Sam walks between the cubicles, talking into his phone. He's cleaning the blood off his face with a towel.

Sam: Dean, you there?

Dean: Yeah, listen, I think I got it. Meet me on twenty-two.

Sam: Okay, yeah. Just, uh, take the stairs.

INT. LOBBY - NIGHT

Dean is looking at the Sandover history display when Sam comes in.

Dean: Whoa. That's a lot of blood.

Sam: Yeah, I know.

Dean: Right. So, uh, in there.

Dean points to a glass case containing a pair of gloves.

Sam: P. T. Sandover's gloves.

Dean: Yeah, how much you wanna bet there's a little smidge of DNA in there? You know, like a fingernail clipping or a hair or two? Something.

Sam: So you ready?

Dean: I have no idea.

Sam: Me neither.

Sam and Dean both take a poker and Sam takes a container of salt.

Sam: Go for it.

Dean: Right.

Dean smashes the glass. Sam's breath is briefly visible. SANDOVER appears behind Dean and flings him into the wall, then Sam. His hands spark as he approaches Sam, who grabs the salt and flings some through him. SANDOVER dissipates. Dean gets up.

Dean: Oh. Nice.

SANDOVER appears behind Dean.

Sam: Dean.

Sam throws Dean the poker. Dean turns and swings it through SANDOVER, who dissipates again.

Sam: Nice catch.

Dean: Right?

Sam gets up and goes over to pick up the other poker. SANDOVER appears between Sam and Dean, who simultaneously h*t him with pokers; he dissipates. He appears behind Dean, who turns around to get him, then behind Sam, who does the Same, then between them, and throws first Sam, then Dean into opposite walls. His hands spark and he reaches for Dean. Sam sees the gloves and grabs them and his lighter. The gloves catch f*re and so does SANDOVER, who burns into nothing. Sam drops the burning gloves.

Sam: That was amazing.

Dean: Right? Right?

INT. Dean's OFFICE - NIGHT

Dean pulls a first-aid kit out of his desk.

Dean: Man, I gotta tell you, I've never had so much fun in my life.

Sam: Me neither.

Dean: Was a hell of a workout too, wasn't it?

Sam: We should keep doing this.

Dean: I know.

Dean looks through the kit and comes out with two gauze pads(?). He gives one to Sam.

Sam: I mean it. There gotta be other ghosts out there. We could help a lot of people.

Dean: Right, we'd be like the Ghostfacers.

Sam: No, really. I mean, for real.

Dean: What? Like, quit our jobs and h*t the road?

Sam: Exactly.

Dean: How would we live?

Sam: Uh...

Dean: You gotta be kidding me. How would we get by? With stolen credit cards? Huh? Eating diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a crap motel room every night?

Sam: That's all just details.

Dean: Details are everything. You don't wanna go fighting ghosts without any health insurance.

Sam: All right. Um. Confession.

Dean: What?

Sam: Remember those dreams I told you about with the ghosts?

Dean: Yeah?

Sam: I was fighting them.

Dean: Okay.

Sam: With you. We were these, like, hunters, and we were friends. More like brothers, really. I mean, what if that's who we really are? I mean, you saw us back there, working together. The ghost was scrambling people's brains. What if it scrambled ours?

Dean: That's insane.

Sam: Is it? Think about it for just one second. What if we think this is our life, but it's not?

Dean: Hey, man, the ghost is d*ad and we're still standing. I mean, I'm sorry, but-

Sam: Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be.

Dean: No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo.

Sam: When was the last time you talked to them? To any of them?

Dean: Okay, you're upset. You're upset, you're confused-

Sam: Yeah, 'cause I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital.

Dean: Okay. What are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on.

Sam: All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know-I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag. This isn't you. I know you.

Dean: Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go.

Sam leaves.

INT. CUBICLE FARM - DAY

A printer whirs and spits out a paper. A fax machine whirs and sucks in papers. An a*t*matic pencil sharpener whirs. Sam is in his cubicle filling out a form on a clipboard. The phone rings. Sam stares at it. He takes off his headset, picks up the poker he brought with him, gets up, and beats the phone to death. Everyone stares.

Sam: I quit.

INT. Dean's OFFICE - DAY

Dean is typing at his computer. ADLER knocks at the door.

ADLER

Got a minute?

Dean: Sure, of course.

ADLER comes in and shuts the door.

ADLER

How are you feeling, Dean?

Dean: Uh, great.

ADLER

You look a little tired. Been working hard, I gather.

Dean: Yeah.

ADLER

Ah, don't be modest. I hear everything. And I'm pleased with what I'm hearing.

ADLER sits down in front of Dean's desk.

ADLER

That's why it's important to me that you're happy.

ADLER pulls out a pen, grabs a piece of notepaper, and writes down a five-digit number.

ADLER

How's that for a bonus?

Dean looks at the paper.

Dean: That's very generous.

ADLER

Purely selfish. Wanna make sure you're not going anywhere.

Dean: Wow. Are you sure?

ADLER

Positive. You are Sandover material, son. Real go-getter. Carving your own way.

Dean: Well, thanks. I try.

ADLER

I see big things in your future. Maybe even senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes Division. Don't get me wrong, you'll have to work for it. Seven days a week, lunch at your desk, but in eight to ten short years, that could be you.

Dean takes off his headset.

Dean: Uh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It's, um...but...

Dean passes the paper back.

Dean: I am giving my notice.

ADLER

This is a joke. You're kidding me, right?

Dean: No. I've-I recently-uh, very recently realized that I have some other work I have to do. It's, uh, very important to me.

ADLER

Other work? Another company?

Dean: No, I-it's hard to explain. Um. It's just that this-this is-it's just-it's not who I'm supposed to be.

ADLER grins.

Dean: What?

ADLER

Dean, Dean, Dean. Finally.

ADLER stands up and presses two fingers to Dean's forehead. Everything goes from saturated color to dim. Dean looks around at the office and himself.

Dean: What the hell? Why am I wearing a tie? My God, am I hungry.

ADLER laughs.

ADLER

Welcome back.

Dean stands up.

Dean: Wait. Did I-did I just get touched by-you're an angel, aren't you?

ADLER

I'm Zachariah.

Dean: Oh, great. That's all I need is another one of you guys.

Zachariah: I'm hardly another one, Dean. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things.

Zachariah indicates his body.

Zachariah: But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row.

Dean: I am not one of your ducks.

Zachariah: Starting with your attitude.

Dean: Oh, so, what? This was all some sort of a lesson? Is that what you're telling me? Wow. Very creative.

Zachariah: You should see my decoupage.

Dean: Gross. No thank you. So, what? I'm just hallucinating all this? Is that it?

Zachariah: Not at all. Real place, real haunting. Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories.

Dean: Just to shake things up? Hm? So you guys can have fun watching us run around like ass clowns in monkey suits?

Zachariah: To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a hunter. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it.

Dean: Stop what? The apocalypse, huh? Lucifer? What? Be specific, man.

Zachariah: You'll do everything you're destined to do. All of it. But I know, I know. You're not strong enough. You're scared. You got daddy issues. You can't do it. Right?

Dean: Angel or not, I will s*ab you in your face.

Zachariah: All I'm saying is it's how you look at it. Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things.

Dean turns away.

Zachariah: Save people, maybe even the world. All the while you drive a classic car and fornicate with women. This isn't a curse. It's a gift. So for God's sakes, Dean, quit whining about it. Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than yours. So are you with me? You wanna go steam yourself another latte? Or are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?
{"type": "series", "show": "Supernatural", "episode": "04x17 - It's a Terrible Life"}