|EPISODE 511: SAM, INTERRUPTED
|Dr. Fuller: You were referred to me by a Dr. Babar in Chicago.
Sam: That’s right.
Dr. Fuller: Isn’t there a children’s book about an elephant named Babar?
Dean: I don’t know. I don’t have any elephant books. Look doctor, I think the doctor was in over his head with this one (points at Sam). Cause my brother’s... (whistles and makes circles with his finger).
Dr. Fuller: Okay fine, thank you, that’s really not necessary. Why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling, Alex?
Sam: I’m fine. I mean, okay, a little depressed, I guess.
Dr. Fuller: Alright – any idea why?
Sam: Probably because I started the apocalypse.
Dr. Fuller: The apocalypse?
Sam: Yeah. That’s right.
Dr. Fuller: And you think you started it.
Sam: Well yeah. I mean, I killed this demon – Lilith – and I accidentally freed Lucifer from Hell. So now he’s topside, and we’re trying to stop him.
Dr. Fuller: Who is?
Sam: Me. Him. And this one angel.
(Dean looks on, rolling his eyes).
Dr. Fuller: Oh, you mean like an angel on your shoulder.
Sam: No no. His name’s Castiel. He wears a trench coat.
Dean: See what I mean, doc? I mean the kid’s been beating himself up about this for months! The apocalypse wasn’t his fault.
Dr. Fuller: It’s not?
Dean: No. There was this other demon, Ruby? She had him addicted to demon blood, and near the end he was practically chugging the stuff. My brother’s not evil. He was just... high. So, could you fix him up so we could get back to traveling around the country and hunting monsters?
(Doctor smiles weakly, then picks up his phone).
Dr. Fuller: Urma? Cancel my lunch.
|Dean: I've seen Cuckoo's Nest so don't try any of that soul-crushing, authoritarian crap on me.|
|Karla: What are you boys doing in here?
(Dean pulls down his pants)
Karla: All right, 'cmon you two.
Dean: (to Sam) Crazy works.
|(after Wendy kisses Dean)
Sam: You cannot hit that.
Dean: Oh, I'm so torn.
|Dean: I just got thraped.|
|Dr. Cartwright: Eddy? I’m Erica Cartwright, I’ve been assigned your case.
Dean: You’re my shrink? (smiles) Well, lucky me.
Dr. Cartwright: And you’re my... (opens the file) paranoid schizophrenic, with a narcissistic personality disorder and religious psychosis. Lucky me.
(Dean smiles weakly)
|Dr. Cartwright: Can we talk?
(she sits down across from him).
Dean: Yes – I’ve actually got some questions for you.
Dr. Cartwright: What a coincidence. I’ve got some for you, too.
Dean: Well, quid pro quo, Clarice.
Dr. Cartwright: Okay, Hannibal, I’ll go first. How many hours a night do you sleep?
Dean: Three or four, every couple of nights. What can you tell me about the recent suicides in here?
Dr. Cartwright: They were tragic.
Dean: But did you ever notice anything... strange? Like, I dunno, black smoke, sulphur...?
Dr. Cartwright: No, why? What’s that supposed to mean?
Dean: Demon signs. I hunt demons. Monsters, that kind of thing.
Dr. Cartwright: How many drinks do you have a week?
Dean: Well, I gotta sleep sometime, so uh... (counts, muttering silently to himself) somewhere in the mid fifties. You ever feel any cold spots, or get a chill walking through the hospital?
Dr. Cartwright: Not that I can remember – if I had?
Dean: Means there’s a ghost around.
Dr. Cartwright: Okay. When was the last time you were in a long-term relationship?
Dean: Define long-term.
Dr. Cartwright: More than two months.
Dean: Never. Have the patients reported seeing anything weird?
Dr. Cartwright: In here? (laughs) All the time.
|Dr. Cartwright (to Dean): So, let's talk about your father.|
|(Dean is looking up at the mirror, watching everybody walk by. Dr. Erica Cartwright walks up).
Dean: What’s up, doc?
Dr. Cartwright: You tell me.
Dean: Hunting. A wraith, actually. Could be anybody.
Dr. Cartwright: So, I could be a monster.
(Dean checks the mirror).
Dean: No. You’re clean.
|Dr. Cartwright: Why you?
Dean: Why me what?
Dr. Cartwright: Why do you have to hunt monsters? Why not let someone else do it?
Dean: (smirking) Can’t find anybody else that dumb. (a second later). It’s my job. Somebody’s gotta save people’s asses. Yours included.
Dr. Cartwright: So is there a quota? How many people do you have to save?
Dean: All of them.
Dr. Cartwright: All of them? You think you have to save everyone?
Dean: Yep. Whole wide world of sports.
Dr. Cartwright: How? (Dean hesitates). Believe me, whatever you’ve got, I’ve heard weirder.
Dean: It’s the end of the world, okay? And it’s a damn biblical apocalypse. And if I don’t stop it, and save everyone, then no one will, and we all die.
Dr. Cartwright: That’s horrible. I mean, apocalypse or no apocalypse... monsters or no monsters – that’s a crushing weight to have on your shoulders. To feel like six billion lives depend on you? God. How do you get up in the morning?
Dean: (suddenly pensive) That’s a good question...
|(after kissing Sam)
Wendy: I want him now. He's larger.
|(Dean picks the lock and enters Sam’s room. Sam sits limply on the bed).
Dean: You okay?
Sam: No... (mumbles, rolling his head). No, I’m not okay. I – I – I – am... awesome!
Dean: (suspiciously) They give you something?
Sam: Ah yeah, they gave me everything! (drunkenly) It’s spectacu-lacular! (chuckles)
Dean: You always were a happy drunk (shakes his head. Sam grabs Dean’s arm and pulls him closer)
Sam: (suddenly heated) Dean! The doctor! He wasn’t a wraith!
Dean: I know. I don’t understand it. I mean, I saw it in the mirror. It wasn’t human.
Sam: Or you’re seeing things... (amused) M-maybe you’re going crazy!
Dean: (categorical) I’m not crazy!
Sam: Well, come on! I mean you’ve been at least half-crazy for a long time. Since you got back from Hell, or since before that... we’re in a mental hospital (laughs loudly). Maybe you finally cracked! Maybe now, you are really – for real – crazy!
Dean: (coldly) I made a mistake. That’s all. I’ll find the thing.
Sam: Okay. Yeah yeah yeah, I know, I know! (encouragingly, grabs Dean’s shoulder comfortingly) It’s okay. Hey, hey! Look at me. It’s okay! ‘Cause you’re my brother! And I still love ya! (Dean smiles weakly. Sam grips his shoulder, then touches the end of his nose) Boop!
|Dean: Crazy is the clue.|
|(after Dean's killed the wraith)
Sam: You still crazy?
Dean: Not any more than usual.
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