Dean is sleeping in bed. He wakes up suddenly, and automatically looks at Sam’s bed, which is empty. He hears Sam’s voice, and sits up a little to listen. “That’s what I’m telling you,” Sam is saying into his phone. “No storm, no bad crops, nothing. Yeah, yeah we’ll keep looking. You keep looking too, okay? Bye. Talk soon.” He hangs up. Dean immediately lays back down, pretending he’s asleep. Sam comes out of the bathroom and looks at Dean, then sits down on the opposite bed, shaking Dean lightly. “Hey – up and at ‘em, kiddo.” Dean opens his eyes. “You’re up early,” he says. “What’re you doing?” “Nothing,” Sam says. “I was in the can.” “Yeah?” Dean says disbelievingly. “Yeah,” Sam repeats. “Want me to draw you a picture?” “Nah, I’ll pass,” Dean replies, rubbing his eyes. “Found a job,” Sam says, picking up a newspaper. “Bedford, Iowa. Guy beat his wife’s brains out with a meat tenderizer.” “Yikes,” Dean says, taking the paper. “And get this – third local inside two months to gank his wife,” Sam goes on. “No priors on any of them, all happily married.” “Yeah. Sounds like Ozzy and Harriet,” Dean says. “More like The Shining,” Sam says. “Yeah alright – well I guess we’d better have a look,” Dean says, tossing the paper aside. The headline is “Bedford Woman Bludgeoned to Death”.

“Why does the PD keep sending you guys? I already said I don’t want a lawyer.” The husband who killed his wife is sitting in front of Sam and Dean, wearing the orange suit of a prisoner. “They’re lining up the firing squad,” Dean reminds him. “I’m pleading guilty,” the man says firmly. “Look, you don’t want us to represent you, that’s fine. In fact, it’s probably not a bad idea, between you and me,” Dean says, but stops when Sam clears his throat. “We just want to understand what happened,” he finishes. “That’s all.” The man is silent. “Mr. Benson,” Sam says, “Please.” Benson looks at him. “What happened was… I killed my wife. And you wanna know why? Because she made plans without asking me.” Dean blinks. “When it happened, how did you feel? Disoriented? Out of control?” Sam suggests. “Like something possessed you to do it?” Dean offers. “I knew exactly what I was doing, I was crystal clear,” Benson replies. “Then why’d you do it?” Dean asks. “I don’t know,” Benson says. “I loved her. We were happy.” Sam nods at Dean, and Dean reaches into his briefcase and pulls out some papers, then pushes them across the desk so Benson can see them. “Nine Gs,” he says. “That’s a hefty bill.” “Where’d you get that?” Benson asks immediately. “Doesn’t matter, we have it,” Dean says calmly. “See certain charges – ones you don’t want the Mrs. to know – they show up under shady names like M&C Entertainment.” “Yeah I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Benson says, looking away. “Oh, dropping plastic at a nudie bar for instance,” Dean suggests. “We just wanna know the truth, Mr. Benson,” Sam cuts in. Benson sighs. “Her name was… Jasmine.” “She was a stripper?” Sam asks. Dean smirks. “Dude, her name was Jasmine.” “I didn’t mean for it to happen, I don’t like to go to strip bars – my buddy was having a bachelor party, and… there she was,” Benson goes on. “Jasmine?” Sam asks. “She came right up to me,” Benson says. “And… I don’t know, she was just… perfect. Everything that I wanted.” “Well you pay enough, anybody’ll be anything,” Dean says. “It wasn’t about the money! It wasn’t even about the sex. It was… I don’t know. I – I don’t know what it was. It’s hard to explain,” Benson says. “And, your wife found out?” Sam asks. “No, she never had a clue,” Benson says. “Then why did you kill her?” Sam asks. “For Jasmine,” Benson says. “She said we would be together forever. If – if only Vicky was… After, me and Jasmine were supposed to meet, and she never showed. I don’t know where she lives, I don’t know her last name, I don’t even know her real first name. I’m an idiot.” “And you didn’t think to tell this to the cops?” Sam asks. “What for?” Benson asks. “The stripper didn’t do it, I did it. And I know what I deserve. Judge doesn’t give me the death sentence, I’ll just do it myself.” Dean and Sam exchange glances.

Hospital

A woman in a white lab coat is taking some pills as she sits behind her desk. The name on her window is “Dr. Cara Roberts”. The door opens, Sam stands there. “Rough night?” he asks, watching her wash the pill down. “Fun night,” she replies, putting her fingers on her temples. “Rough morning. Can I help you?” “Uh, yes. Special Agent Stiles, FBI,” Sam says, coming into the room and showing her his badge. “You’re Dr. Cara Roberts?” “Far as I know,” she says. “You do some work with the sheriff’s department?” Sam asks. “Yeah, when I’m not slogging it through the ER,” she replies. “It’s a small town, we multi-task.” “Well I have some questions about a case,” Sam says. “About several cases, actually. Do you mind if I sit?” He sits. “Adam Benson, Jim Wiley, and Steve Snyder?” “Oh yeah, the men who killed their wives?” she says. “You handled the work-ups, right?” Sam asks. She tells him she did the autopsies on the wives, and there was nothing odd about them at all. “What about the husbands?” Sam asks. “Can I… see your badge again?” she asks, looking at him. Sam obliges, and she looks closely before saying “There was one thing. An anomaly in the bloodwork. I remember thinking how strange it was that it showed up in all three men.” “What showed up?” Sam asks as she takes out her reports. “Oxytosin,” she says. “And their levels were crazy high.” She passes him the papers. “Oxytosin?” Sam asks. “It’s a hormone that’s produced during childbirth, lactation, and sex,” She smiles at Sam. “People call it the love hormone. You know how it feels when you first fall in love, the whole weak-in-the-knees, tattoo-on-my-chest thing? That’s oxytosin.” Sam smiles. “Of course it eventually fades, and then you’re stuck with every relationship ever. That and the painful regiment of tattoo removal.” She smiles again at Sam, who smiles back. The door suddenly opens, and in walks Dean. “What did I miss?” “Uh, this is my partner, Agent Murdoch,” Sam says quickly. “This ‘Agent’ sounds so formal. You can call me Dean,” Dean says, holding out his hand. She shakes his hand. “I’m Dr. Roberts.” She turns back to Sam immediately, leaving Dean looking a little surprised. “So, um, can I help you with anything else?” “Uh, sure. Just one more thing. This chemical, oxytosin, what would cause those high levels you found?” Sam asks. “Nothing that I’ve ever seen,” she replies. “Okay, that’s it. Thanks Doc,” Sam says, and she smiles at him again. The boys stand up. As they leave, Sam pauses. “By the way. Try a greasy breakfast. Best thing for a hangover.” She laughs. “Watch it buddy, I’m the only MD here.” She smiles as he leaves. Outside, Dean looks at him. “Dude, you totally c-blocked me.”

“So, Wiley and Snyder fessed up, huh?” Sam asks as the boys walk out of the hospital. “One emptied his IRA, the other his kid’s college fund. All on the same thing,” Dean replies. “Live nude girls?” Sam asks. “Club called the Honeywagon,” Dean says. Sam asks if Jasmine was involved again, but Dean says that each guy was with a different chick. “So what, these girls all connected somehow?” Sam asks. “Well they all describe their stripper in the same way, the exact same way. Perfect, and everything they ever wanted,” Dean goes on. Sam comments that it seems they were under some sort of love spell, and Dean agrees. “Which caused them to become totally psychotic,” Sam says. “Absolutely,” Dean says. “You seem pretty cheery,” Sam comments as they reach the Impala. “Strippers, Sammy,” Dean says, grinning. “Strippers. We are on an actual case, involving strippers. Finally.”

The Honeywagon

Dean flashes his badge, and heads inside the strip club. “I’m looking for three girls – Jasmine, Aurora, and Ariel,” he says to the man who owns the place. “You seriously think those names mean anything to me?” the guy asks. “One’s a red head, about five-nine, the other ones Asian, about…” Dean begins, but the guy cuts in. “Do you have any idea how many girls I deal with? Fake names, fake hair, fake…” Dean says he must have some sort of way to keep track of the strippers. “Please. Exotic dancers. Independent contractors working for cash. I stay out of their hair, they stay out of whatever little I have left,” the owner says. “Three of your customers murdered their wives. And you don’t think that that’s weird?” Dean asks. “Yeah, I think that’s super friggin’ weird,” the owner says. “But you know what it ain’t? My problem.” He walks away. Dean sighs, but then spots Sam across the room and heads over.

“Any luck?” Sam asks. “No. You?” Dean replies. “A little. I just talked to Bobby, we officially have a theory,” Sam begins. “Siren.” “Like Greek myth Siren?” Dean asks, staring at Sam. “The Odyssey?” Sam stares back at him. “Hey I read,” Dean says. “Yeah, actually,” Sam says. “But the Siren’s not actually a myth, it’s more beautiful creatures that prey on men. Entice them with their siren song.” “Let me guess, ‘Welcome to the Jungle’,” Dean says with a grin. “No no – Warrant’s ‘Cherry Pie’.” “Their song is more of a metaphor, like their call. Their allure, you know?” Sam says. “So they shake their thing, and the guys zombie out?” Dean asks. “Basically, yeah. Sirens lived on islands, sailors would chase them, completely ignoring the rocky shores and dash themselves to pieces,” Sam replies. “Sounds like Adam and his buddies,” Dean agrees. “Yeah. If you’re a siren in ’09 looking to ruin a bunch of morons, where would you set up shop?” Sam says. “So whatever floats the guy’s boat, that’s what they look like?” Dean asks. “Yeah, see sirens can read minds,” Sam says. “They see what you want most, and then they can kind of cloak themselves. You know, like an illusion.” “So it could all be the same chick?” Dean asks. “Morphing into different dream girls?” Sam nods. “Yeah, probably. Sirens are usually pretty solitary.” Dean looks annoyed. “How do we kill it?” “Bobby’s working on it,” Sam replies. “Even if we figure that out…” “How the hell are we gonna find it,” Dean finishes. “It could be anybody.”

A young man in the same club is sitting at a table, waiting. A stripper walks over to him and sits down. “Hey Belle,” he says. “I thought you’d never come,” she says, pulling him up. They leave together.

In the young man’s house, he checks on someone before closing the door. “It’s okay, she’s asleep,” he says, turning around, where Belle is standing. “Lenny – you’re amazing,” she says. “Taking care of her like this? Most guys would have put her in a nursing home.” “It’s no big deal,” Lenny says, smiling. “She’s my mom.” “Like I said. Amazing,” she says again, and then unzips her dress. She steps out of it and goes towards him.

A short time later, they are laying in his bed, making love. In the mirror near the bed, her reflection is not that of a beautiful woman, but instead a horrible grey creature with sunken eyes no hair, and sharp teeth.

Later, they lay in bed. “Baby, I love you so much,” Belle says. “The way you take care of me and your mom… you’re so sweet. And strong… I just wish you didn’t have to carry it all. I mean, your mom takes up all your time. As long as she’s around… we can’t really be happy.” “She’s not so bad,” Lenny replies. “I could be with you… forever,” Belle says anyway. “If only your mom wasn’t here. Don’t you wanna be with me forever?” “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you know I do.” “Then bash your mother’s brains in. Baby, do it for me,” she says. “Do it, baby.” He smiles. “Yeah, okay. If you say so.” He sits up, and pauses. “I love you,” she says, and he smiles and gets out of the bed. He picks up a poker near the fire, and heads into his mother’s room. A few moments later, there are cries of pain from the room. Belle smiles, pulls on her dress, and leaves.

Motel

Dean is sitting in the motel by himself, looking at Sam’s cellphone, which is laying on the table. Finally he gives in and picks it up, looking at the recent phone numbers Sam has called. There’s his own name, and Bobby’s name, and then just a number. He calls it, and puts the phone to his ear. A moment later “Hey Sam. Sam? You there?” It’s Ruby. Dean hangs up and puts down the phone. Sam walks in a second later. “Lenny Bristol was definitely another siren victim.” “You got in to see him?” Dean asks. “Yeah. He said he brought a stripper home named Belle. A couple of hours later, he offed his mother. Belle, of course, went MIA,” Sam tells him. “Wait, he killed his mom?” Dean asks. Sam shrugs. “She was the woman he was closest to.” Dean shakes his head, and then Sam’s cellphone rings. “Yeah, you forgot your cellphone,” Dean says, picking it up and handing it to Sam. Sam looks at him a little oddly, then takes the phone and answers it. “Hey Bobby.” “Find her yet?” Bobby asks. “No. And doesn’t seem she’s slowing down any. What about you?” Sam asks. “Got anything?” “Uh, some lore from a dusty Greek poem,” Bobby replies as he looks at a book. “Shockingly, it’s a little vague.” Sam puts him on speaker so Dean can hear too. “It says you need a bronze dagger, covered in the blood of a sailor under the spell of the song,” Bobby reads. “What the hell does that mean?” Dean asks. “You got me. We’re dealing with three thousand years of the telephone game,” Bobby replies. “Best guess?” Sam asks. “Well, the siren’s spell ain’t got nothing to do with any song,” Bobby says. “It’s mostly some kind of toxin, or venom. Something she gets in the vic’s blood…” “That makes them go all Manchurian Candidate,” Sam finishes. “What do you think, she infects them during sex?” “Maybe,” Bobby says. “Supernatural STD,” Dean nods. “Well, whatever happens, once it’s done, the siren’s gotta watch her back. If she gets a dose of her own medicine…” Bobby says. “It kills her,” Sam says. “Like a snake getting iced by it’s own venom,” Bobby agrees. “So we just gotta find a way to juice one of the OJs in jail?” Dean asks. “It’s not that easy. None of those guys are under the spell anymore,” Bobby explains. “I haven’t got a clue where you’re gonna get the blood you need.” “I think I might have an idea,” Sam says. “Be careful. These things are tricky bitches,” Bobby says. “Wrap you up in knots before you know what hit you.”

Hospital

Sam heads into the hospital again, followed closely by Dean. “Dr. Roberts,” he says, as she walks up. “Agent Stiles?” she smiles. “Can’t stay away, huh.” Sam smiles. “Actually, we’re here on business. About the blood samples. You know, the ones with the high… uh, oxytosin?” Dean looks disbelieving. “Do you still have them?” She nods. “Good, we need them.” “What for?” she asks. Just as the boys are about to reply, a man in a suit walks up. “Excuse me, Dr. Roberts.” “Excuse me,” Dean says, and the boys pull out their badges. “We’re a little busy here, buddy.” The guy pulls out his own badge. “Yeah, so am I, pal.” “Doc, could you give us a sec, please?” Sam asks, and she leaves. “What’s your name?” Dean asks. “Nick Monroe, what’s yours?” he asks. “I’m Special Agent Sam Stiles, this is my partner Dean Murdoch,” Sam cuts in. “What office you from?” “Uh, Omaha, Special Crimes Unit. My CC sent me down here to see about the murders,” Nick says. “You?” “DC. Our Assistant Director assigned us,” Dean replies. “Which AD?” Nick asks. “Mike Keiser,” Sam says. “What are your badge numbers?” Nick asks. “You’re kidding, right?” Dean says. “I’m just following protocol,” Nick says. “Look man whatever, just call our AD, he’ll sort things out, huh?” Sam hands Nick a card. He takes it and walks away, dialing the number on his cellphone. “Hello?” “Yeah, Assistant Director Keiser please,” Nick says. “Yes sir, hello, it’s Agent Nick Monroe, I’m calling about two of your men – Stiles and Murdoch. It seems they’ve been put on my case by mistake.” “You questioning my authority?” It’s Bobby, who is wearing a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron and making burgers. “Uh, no no sir I’m not questioning…” “Well you coulda fooled me,” Bobby cuts in. “Last time I checked, son, DC has jurisdiction. Or am I wrong?” “Uh, no sir,” Nick says quickly. “Well good. So the next time you wanna waste my time with stupid questions, don’t.” He hangs up. On his wall are a bunch of phones, all labeled with different things, like “FBI” and “Police”. “Idjits,” he mutters as he walks away.

Nick hangs up and walks back over to the boys. “I’m sorry guys.” “Yeah, just don’t let it happen again,” Dean says with a smirk. “So where you at with this?” Nick asks. “Well where you at with this?” Dean asks. “Well I feel like I’ve found something,” Nick says quietly. “It connects all the murders.” “Really?” Sam says. “They were all bangin’ strippers. From the same club.” “You don’t say,” Dean says. “What do you say we go down and check it out?” Nick suggests. “Well here’s the thing, Nick,” Dean begins. “We’re kind of lone wolves, you know…” Sam cuts in. “You know what, that sounds like an excellent idea. Just give me a second with my partner, and I’ll… one sec. Come here.” He pulls Dean away. “You gotta stay with him,” he says quietly. “What?” Dean says incredulously. “Keep him out of the way,” Sam goes on. “Why me?” Dean asks. “Cause I gotta get the blood samples,” Sam says. “What the hell am I supposed to do with him?” Dean asks. “Just take him to the strip club,” Sam says. “Keep an eye out for the siren.” Dean looks annoyed. “Come on Dean, just focus on the naked girls. You’ll forget he’s even there.” Dean nods. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for the girls.”

Outside, as they walk up to the Impala, Dean says “Alright, we’re taking my ride, and no complaining about the tunes.” “No way, you drive an Impala?” Nick says, surprised. “Yeah,” Dean says. “It’s a sixty-seven, right?” Nick says. “It’s a three-twenty-seven four barrel.” “Yeah, actually,” Dean says, looking surprised too. “It’s a thing of beauty,” Nick says, grinning. “Thanks,” Dean smiles. “How the hell did you talk the bureau into letting you drive your own wheels?” Nick asks as they climb in.

Back in the hospital, Dr. Roberts is taking out the papers. “You want this blood because…?” “Uh, we’d like to run some tests,” Sam says. “You know, I’ve run every test there is. It’s my job,” she says. “Notice the lab coat.” Sam smiles. “We know a specialist who’d like to try out a theory.” She stares at him a moment, then gives in. “If you say so.” She goes to the fridge and and pulls out a tray, then stops. “What the hell! The blood’s gone!”

The Honeywagon

Dean and Nick are having drinks. “Nobody’s Fault But Mine,” Dean says. “Oh oh oh – Zeppelin recorded it in ’75, it was a cover of a Blind Willy Johnson tune,” Nick says. “Nice!” Dean grins. “You Shook Me!” Nick says. “Oh, ’69 – debut album, written by Willy Dickson,” Dean replies. “And?” Nick says. “And what?” Dean asks. “Written by Willy Dickson, J.B. Lenore,” Nick finishes. Dean nods. “Dude, dude! You know, for a Fed you’re not a total dick.” “Aren’t we both Feds?” Nick says. “Yeah, I know, it’s just – there’s not a lot of Feds as cool as us,” Dean replies. “So what the hell with this case man, how does a girl talk four different Johns into murder?” Nick says. “It’s a crazy world,” Dean says as he watches a girl across the room. “Hey can I level with you?” Nick asks. “I found something kinda weird.” “Well, you’ve brought your weird to the right spot,” Dean replies. “Lay it on me.” “I went to the crime scene this morning, and I saw them bagging this up,” Nick says, passing Dean something in a plastic bag. It’s a couple of purple flowers. “So I went back through the files, it turns out a flower just like that was found at every crime scene.” “Like it was left on purpose?” Dean wonders. “I mean, you know sometimes a serial killer will leave an object behind, like a calling card, but with this case? To tell you the truth, I got no idea what’s going on,” Nick admits. “I think I might,” Dean says suddenly, remembering. “I’ve seen a flower like this before.” Hospital

The same flowers are sitting in a vase in Dr. Robert’s office. She’s sitting down, watching the security tapes with Sam. “We’ve watched them twice – whoever took the blood…” she begins. “Must’ve tampered with the tapes,” Sam finishes. “Who has access to your office?” “Everybody, I don’t lock it,” she replies. “You what?” Sam says. She laughs. “I’ve never had this problem before. What is so important about the blood anyway?” “I think someone drugged the men,” Sam replies. “Made them commit murder.” “What? What kind of drug?” she looks disbelieving. “Um, I’m not sure yet,” Sam replies. “I don’t know. I mean I interviewed those guys, and they had their reasons,” she says. “Yeah but they all loved their victims,” Sam says. “I’m sure they did,” she agrees, then laughs. “Come on. Haven’t you ever been in a relationship where you really love somebody, and still kinda wanted to bash their head in?” Sam laughs. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” She smiles. “Yeah.” She heads behind her desk to a cupboard. “Look, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” Sam quickly says. “It’s okay,” she replies. “I was the one who brought it up.” She puts a bottle of liquor on the table and two glasses. Sam looks. “Really.” She nods, smiling. “It’s medicine. I’m a doctor.” She holds a glass out to Sam, who takes it after a moment and joins her on her side of the desk. “His name was Carl,” she says suddenly. “We were married.” “So what happened?” Sam asks. “Life happened,” she says. “I dunno, I mean I loved him… still do, I guess, but um… I dunno, it’s like one day I looked up and I was living with a stranger and… you know what I mean, right?” Sam shrugs. “I guess. Or I mean… I dunno. Maybe.” She smiles. “People change. I know I did. But it’s nothing to feel guilty about. It happens.” “So you two split up?” Sam asks. “Yeah, I suppose that’s a word for it,” she says, pouring herself and Sam more to drink. Sam smiles, and then his phone rings. He goes to answer it, but then stops. “You gotta get that?” she asks. “No,” Sam answers after a moment, hanging up. “Not right now.” Cara watches him, smiling, then says “Whatever. We’ve all got our old sad stories, so… screw it. Have fun, no regrets, and live life like there’s no tomorrow.” They drink again, and then she puts down her glass quickly and leans forward near Sam’s ear. “For instance, I have been thinking about you all night. Well. Parts of you.” “Just parts?” Sam asks, smiling. “Mmhmm. Like your lips. They’re very distracting.” She moves in front of him. “It’s a problem.” She pulls off his tie. “And I can’t stop thinking about… kissing them.” “Is that so,” Sam says. She nods. “So. What the hell, huh?” Sam smiles and kisses her, and then they begin to pull off each other’s clothing.

Motel

Sam opens the door to their room, it’s empty and the lights are off. He calls Dean. “Sam! Where the hell have you been?” Dean says angrily when he picks up. He’s driving. “With Cara,” Sam replies. “Oh it’s Cara now. And you’re not picking up your phone!” “We were trying to find the blood samples,” Sam says. “Someone stole them.” “Yeah I’ll bet,” Dean says irritably. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam asks, sitting down. “Nick found flower petals at the crime scene. Hyacinths.” “So?” “Hyacinths? From the Mediterranean? From the island where the whole frigging myth started in the first place?” Dean says. “Okay,” Sam agrees. “Sam, Cara had hyacinth flowers,” Dean reminds him. “You think Cara’s the siren?” Sam asks, laughing a little. “Well I did a little checking up on her. She’s only been in town for two months,” Dean says. “And she has an ex-husband – a dead ex-husband – Carl Roberts. Dropped like a stone, no warning, supposedly a heart attack.” “Well maybe it was a heart attack,” Sam replies. “You’re kidding me,” Dean says. “Look, I just don’t think it’s her,” Sam says calmly. “And what makes you so sure?” Dean asks. “I dunno, a hunch,” Sam answers. “A hunch? I’m giving you cold, hard facts here and you’re giving me a hunch?” Dean repeats. Sam is silent. “Did you sleep with her?” Dean asks finally. “No,” Sam says. “Holy crap you did,” Dean says, shocked. “Middle of Basic Instinct and you bang Sharon Stone? Sam you could be under her spell right now!” “Dude, I’m not under her spell,” Sam argues. “Unbelievable man, I just don’t get it,” Dean says. “What?” Sam asks. “Nothing,” Dean replies. “No, say it,” Sam insists. “No, it’s just… first it’s Madison, and then Ruby, and now Cara. What is with you and bangin’ monsters?” Dean says finally. “Look Dean, I’m telling you, it’s not Cara. I feel fine,” Sam says. “I’ll bet you do,” Dean says. “You don’t trust me?” Sam asks. “No, because this could be the siren talking!” Dean says loudly. “Look, just tell me where you are, I’ll come meet you and we’ll figure things out,” Sam replies. A moment passes, then Dean says “No.” “Are you serious?” Sam says. “I wish I weren’t. I gotta handle this, Sam. By myself.” He hangs up. Sam angrily throws his phone at the wall.

Impala

“Sam’s in trouble, Bobby. I think the siren’s worked her mojo on him,” Dean says into his phone. “Give me a call as soon as you get this.” He hangs up, then dials Nick. “Hey man, what’s up?” Nick says. He’s in his own car. “I need your help,” Dean says. “Uh, sure. With what?” Nick replies. “Canvassing. We’ve gotta find somebody,” Dean says.

Outside

Nick is sitting in his car outside a pub, watching. He sees Cara get out of a taxi and walk in. A moment later, Dean gets in the car next to him. “She went in just a second ago,” Nick says. “Nice work,” Dean says. “Should we follow her in?” Nick asks. “No no no –I don’t want to tip her off,” Dean says. “Let’s just wait and see who she comes out with.” Nick sighs. “So you think… what? She’s drugging these guys?” “Pretty much,” Dean nods. “Uh huh,” Nick nods. “I know how it sounds,” Dean says. “Are you sure about that? Cause it sounds like crazy on toast,” Nick replies. “All these different strippers, they’re magically the same girl, but then they’re not strippers at all, it’s Dr. Quinn.” “It’s kind of hard to explain, but I have my reasons, and they’re good ones. So you’re just gonna have to trust me,” Dean says. Nick nods. “Yeah okay. I guess.” Dean looks surprised. “Thank you. That’s actually nice to hear.” He takes a drink from his flask and then hands it to Nick, who grins and takes a drink. “So, let’s say she is drugging her vics. How’s she pulling that off?” he says. Dean takes another drink. “She could be injecting them. Or passing the toxin through physical contact,” Dean says. “Or it could be… her saliva,” Nick says. Dean nods, then freezes. “You really should have wiped the lip of that thing before you drank, Dean,” Nick says. Dean stares at his flask. “I should be your little brother,” Nick goes on. Sam? You can’t trust him. Not like you can trust me.” In the rearview mirror, a horrible grey face looks back. “In fact, I really feel like you should get him out of the way. So that we can be brothers. Forever.” Dean looks at him for a bit, then looks away. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Motel

Sam opens the door to their room and walks in. “Nick – what’re you doing here?” he asks. Nick is sitting at the table, watching him. Suddenly, Sam is grabbed from behind. Dean wraps an arm around Sam’s neck and holds a knife to his throat. “Dean?” Sam says in shock. “I gotta tell ya,” he says as Nick walks over. “You’re one butt ugly stripper.” “Maybe,” Nick nods, holding up a purple flower. “But I got exactly what I wanted, I got Dean.” “Dean, come on man, this isn’t you. You can fight this,” Sam says quietly to Dean. “Let me go.” Dean doesn’t budge. “Why don’t you cut him, just a little, on his neck, right there,” Nick says to Dean, who obliges. “Dean’s all mine,” Nick says. “You poisoned him,” Sam accuses. “No, I gave him what he needed,” Nick replies. “And it wasn’t some bitch in a G-string. It was you. A little brother that looked up to him, that he could trust. And now he loves me.” Sam struggles uselessly. “He’d do anything for me. And I gotta tell you Sam, that kind of devotion… like watching someone kill for you… it’s the best feeling in the world.” “Is that why you’re sluttin’ all over town?” Sam says angrily. “I get bored,” Nick says. “Like we all do. And I wanna fall in love again. And again, and again.” “I tell you what, I have fought some nasty sons of bitches but you… are one needy, pathetic loser,” Sam growls. “You won’t feel that way in a minute,” Nick says calmly. He grabs Sam’s face and spits venom onto his mouth. Sam wipes off his mouth hurriedly, but it’s too late. Dean takes away his arms, and Sam stands up. He walks towards Nick. “See, I know you two have a lot you wanna get off your chests,” he says. “So why don’t you discuss it, and whoever survives can be with me… forever.” Sam turns to face Dean. “I don’t know when it happened,” Dean says, “Maybe when I was in Hell… maybe when I was staring right at you. But the Sam I knew is gone.” “Is that so?” Sam says. “It’s not the Demon Blood, or the psychic crap. It’s the little stuff. The lies. The secrets,” Dean goes on. “Yeah? What secrets?” Sam asks. “The phone calls to Ruby, for one,” Dean says. “So I need your say so to make a phone call?” Sam shoots back. “That’s the point. You’re hiding things from me,” Dean says. “What else aren’t you telling me?” “None of your business,” Sam says coldly. “See what I mean?” Dean growls. “We used to be in this together. We used to have each other’s backs.” “Okay fine. You wanna know why I didn’t tell you about Ruby? How we’re hunting down Lillith? Because you’re too weak to go after her, Dean. You’re holding me back. I’m a better hunter than you are, stronger, smarter. I can take out demons you’re too scared to go near,” Sam says. “That’s crap,” Dean says. “You’re too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself,” Sam cuts in. “Whining about all the souls you tortured in Hell. Boo hoo.” Dean throws the knife at Sam, and lunges at him, hitting him in the face. Sam recovers quickly and begins punching Dean as well. He throws him backward through a glass divider, and moves forward again. “You’re not standing in my way anymore.” He grabs Dean, but Dean swings him around so Sam has his back against the door. The siren stands up, watching. Dean lunges at Sam, knocking him through the door and onto the floor behind. Dean gets up, and sees an axe in a glass case nearby, with “Emergency Use Only” written above. He glances at Sam, who is still laying there, and then shatters the glass with his arm, and takes out the axe. “Do it,” the siren says. “Do it for me, Dean.” “Tell me again how weak I am, Sam. How I hold you back!” Dean says loudly. He raises the axe, but before he can bring it down, Bobby grabs his arm, stabs the back of his shoulder with a knife, and, as the siren begins to run down the hall, he flings the knife into it’s back, effectively killing it. The boys look on in shock, and then look at each other silently.

Outside

Bobby grabs some bottles out of his car, and walks around to join Dean and Sam by the Impala. “Soda?” Dean asks as Bobby hands them the drinks. “You boys are driving, ain’tcha?” Bobby asks. They drink. “Thanks Bobby,” Sam says. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did…” “You’ve done the same for me – more than once,” Bobby replies. “Of course you could’ve picked up a phone. Only took one call to find out Agent Nick Monroe wasn’t real.” Bobby watches them for a moment as they stand silently. “You boys gonna be okay?” “Yeah, fine,” Sam says quickly. “Yeah, good,” Dean says right after him. Bobby nods. “See ya.” He walks a little ways away, then turns back. “You know, those sirens are nasty things. If it got to you… that’s not reason to feel bad.” He drives away. “You gonna say good bye to Cara?” Dean asks a moment later. “Nah. Not interested,” Sam says. “Really, why not?” Dean asks. Sam shrugs. “What’s the point?” “Well look at you, love ‘em and leave ‘em,” Dean comments. “Dean, look you know I didn’t mean the things I said back there, right? That it was just the siren’s spell talking?” Sam says. Dean nods. “Of course, me too.” “Okay,” Sam nods. “So… so we’re good?” “Yeah, we’re good,” Dean replies. He walks around the other side of the car, and they get in.

Synopsis by Deanandhisimpala