Originally aired: 23/10/2008

Writers: Andrew Dabb & Daniel Loflin
Director: Phil Sgriccia
Guest Stars: Jim Beaver as Bobby Singer


Official WB Description

Sam and Dean investigate the mysterious deaths of several men who apparently dropped dead of fright. They visit one of the victims in the morgue, and Dean becomes infected with the illness which starts as a general anxiety, then moves on to full-blown terror that eventually stops the heart. Sam and Bobby must find the root of the disease before Dean dies and is sent back to Hell.

Full Synopsis

Dean is running, looking behind him, obviously terrified of something. There is barking behind him, and growling, it sounds like a Hell Hound. Dean keeps running, and accidentally crashes into a pile of garbage, making a homeless man look up in surprise. Dean gets up and shouts, “Run! It’ll kill you!” pointing frantically at something beside the garbage. The man turns to look, and sees a tiny Yorkie. Dean looks horrified, and starts running again as the tiny dog runs after him.

Rock Ridge, Colorado, 43 Hours earlier
Dean and Sam are in a morgue, and the doctor unzips a body bag. “Agent Tyler, Agent Perry, meet Frank O’Brian,” he says. “He died of a heart attack, right?” Sam asks. “Three days ago,” the man replies. “But, O’Brian was fourty-four years old,” Sam goes on, then looks at a folder in his hands. “And according to this, a marathon runner.” “Everybody drops dead sooner or later, it’s why you got job security,” the man says. Dean replies that just yesterday two other perfectly healthy men dropped dead of heart attacks, in the same place. “Don’t you think that’s strange?” he asks. “Why does the FBI give a damn anyway?” the man asks. “We just wanna see the results of Frank’s autopsy,” Dean replies. “What autopsy?” the man asks. Dean smiles. “The one you’re gonna do.”

The man is cutting open Frank’s chest with a scalpel. “First dead body?” he asks. “Far from it,” Dean replies. “Well good. Cause these suckers can get pretty ripe,” the doctor says. “Hey, hand me those rib cutters, would ya?” Dean notices a mark on the dead man’s hand, and says “Is that from a wedding ring? I didn’t think Frank was married.” “Ain’t my department,” the doctor says. Sam picks up the Frank’s hand, and notices bloody scratch marks on his arm. “Any idea how he got these?” he asks. “You know what, when you drop dead, you actually tend to drop,” the man replies. “Body probably got scraped up when he hit the ground.” He makes a surprised sound, then says “I can’t find any blockages in any of the major arteries. He reaches inside and pulls out Frank’s heart, while Dean looks on in disgust. “Looks pretty damn healthy,” he says. “Hold that a second, would ya?” He hands the heart to Dean, who takes it, making a face. Sam smiles to himself. The doctor continues to fish around inside Frank, and suddenly there’s a loud squishing sound and blood splatters all over Sam’s face. “Awww, sorry. Spleen juice,” the doctor says as Dean smiles.

Sheriff’s office
Dean and Sam are waiting inside a police station for the sheriff to see them, there’s a young deputy at the desk, grinning at them. “Cow’s bells,” says an older man, looking out of an office nearby. “Linus, have you seen my -?” he pauses, seeing Dean and Sam. “Who are they?” “Federal agents,” Linus says. “And you kept them waiting?” the sheriff says. “You said not to disturb…” Linus begins, but the Sheriff ignores him and invites Dean and Sam into his office. “Shoes off,” he says before they walk in, and takes off his own. The boys follow suit, and follow him into his office, which has loads of trophies all over the walls. “Al Britton,” he says, shaking hands with them. As the boys sit down, the sheriff takes out a bottle of hand sanitizer and squeezes a bunch onto his hands. The boys exchange looks. “So. What can I do for Uncle Sam?” asks the sheriff. “Well, we’re looking into the death of Frank O’Brian,” Sam replies. “We understand some of your men found his body.” The sheriff has a strange look as he says “They did. Me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were Gamecocks.” Dean laughs, but the sheriff glares at him and he stops. “That’s our softball team’s name,” he says. “They’re majestic animals.” Dean looks lost for words. “I’d known Frank since high school,” the sheriff goes on. “To be honest, I just this morning got up the strength to go see him. Frank, he was – he was a good man.” “Yeah,” Dean says. “Big heart.” Sam gives him a look and says “Before he died, did you notice Frank acting strange? Like he was scared of something?” “Oh hell yeah. Real jumpy,” the sheriff says. “You know what scared him?” Sam asks. “No. Wouldn’t answer his phone. Finally sent some of my boys over to check on him and, well you know the rest.” He starts coughing hard, then squirts some more hand sanitizer into his hands. Dean looks at Sam and mouths “What the?” “So why the Feds give a crap?” Britton asks. “You don’t really think there’s a case here.” “No, no. It’s probably nothing,” Dean replies. “Just a heart attack.”

“There’s no way that was a heart attack,” Dean says as the boys cross the road. “Definitely no way,” Sam agrees. “Three victims, all with the same red scratches? All went from jittery to terrified to dead in 48 hours?” “Something scared ‘em to death?” Dean guesses. “Alright, so what can do that?” Sam wonders. Dean snorts. “What can’t? Ghosts? Vampires? Chupacabra? It could be a hundred things.” “Yeah, so we make a list and start crossing things off,” Sam says. “Alright, so who was the last person to see Frank O’Brian alive?” Dean asks. “Um, his neighbour, Mark Hutchins,” Sam replies. “Hang on, hang on,” Dean says suddenly, and Sam stops. “What?” “I don’t like the looks of those teenagers down there,” Dean says, eyeing a bunch of kids who are standing around on bikes near the Impala. “Let’s walk this way.” He walks away as Sam watches him with a look of shock.

Mark Hutchins’ house
Dean and Sam are sitting on the couch in Mark Hutchins’ house. He has tons of reptiles, all in tanks and cages. A big snake is draped around his shoulders. “Tyler and Perry! Like Aerosmith,” he says with a grin. “So, when was the last time you saw Frank O’Brian?” Sam asks as Dean eyes a Bearded Dragon uneasily. “Monday!” Mark says. “He was watching me from his window. I waved at him, but he just closed the curtains.” “Hmm. You speak to him recently? Did he seem any… different? Scared?” Sam asks. “Oh totally! He was freaking out,” Mark says. Sam goes to exchange looks with Dean, but Dean is too busy nervously watching a crocodile swim around in its tank. “You know uh – you know what scared him?” Dean finally asks. “Well yeah, witches,” Mark says. “Witches?” Sam asks. “Wizard of Oz was on TV the other night, right? And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him,” Mark replies. “Anything else scare him?” Sam asks. “Everything else scared him! Al Qaeda? Ferrets? Artificial sweetener? Those pez dispensers with the dead little eyes… Lots of stuff.” Dean is watching a tarantula, eyes wide. “So tell me, what was Frank like?” Sam asks. “I mean, he’s dead, you know? I don’t wanna hammer him, but… he got better,” Mark says. “He got better?” Sam asks. “Well in high school he was a … he was a dick,” Mark says. “Like a bully. He probably taped half the town’s butt cheeks together.” Dean laughs until Mark says, “Mine included.” “So he pissed a lot of people off,” Dean says. “Think anyone would’ve wanted to get revenge?” “Well I don’t… Frank had a heart attack, right?” Mark asks. “Just answer the question, sir,” Sam says. “No, I don’t think so. Like I said, he got better,” Mark replies. “And after what happened to his wife…” “His wife?” Dean says. “So he was married.” Mark nods. “She died, about twenty years ago. Frank was really broken up about it.” Dean nods, then eyes the snake around Mark’s neck uneasily. Mark looks down at the snake, then grins. “Don’t be scared of Donny! He’s a sweetheart. It’s Marie you gotta look out for.” He nods at a snake that is easing over the back of the couch behind Dean. “She smells fear.” Sam looks, then looks again, and Dean turns to look too, then freezes in fear.

Outside in the car, Dean is scratching his arm as he looks at the laptop. He jumps as Sam opens the door. “Hey,” says Sam. “Any luck at the county clerk’s office?” “Not sure I’d call it luck,” Dean says, handing Sam a piece of paper. “Frank’s wife was a manic depressive. She went off her meds back in ’88, and vanished. They found her, two weeks later, three towns over, strung up in her motel room. Suicide.” “Any chance Frank helped her along to the other side?” Sam asks. “Nah, Frank was working a swing shift when she disappeared,” Dean replies. “Tight alibi.” He puts the car in gear and starts it.

As they drive, Dean asks “So how was Frank’s pad?” “Clean,” Sam says. “I searched it top to bottom – no EMF, no hex bags, no sulphur.” “So probably no ghosts, no witches, no demons,” Dean says. “Three down and ninety-seven to go.” “Yeah,” Sam says, then looks at the spedometer. “Dude, you’re going twenty.” “And?” Dean asks. “That’s the speed limit,” Sam says. “What, safety’s a crime now?” Dean replies. “Dean that was our hotel back there!” Sam says suddenly. “Sam, I’m not gonna make a left-hand turn into on-coming traffic! I’m not suicidal!” Dean argues, then stops as Sam looks at him. “Did I just say that? That’s kinda weird.” “Do you hear something?” Sam asks, then realizes it’s the EMF going off. He pulls it out of his pocket, and tilts it around before realizing it’s going off right around Dean. “Am I haunted?” Dean asks. “Am I haunted?!”

“Yeah alright Bobby, keep looking,” Sam says, then hangs up as he walks back to the Impala with some donuts. As he approaches the car, he hears “Eye of the Tiger” playing. He looks inside to see Dean laying on the car seat, happily playing air-drums. He slaps the top of the car, and Dean jumps and sits up, then gets out of the car. “Dude! Look at this.” He shows Sam the bloody scratches on his arm. “I just talked to Bobby,” Sam says, handing Dean the donuts. “And?” Dean asks, sniffing the donuts then throwing them in the car. “You’re not gonna like it,” Sam says, looking a little shocked. “It’s ghost sickness.” “Ghost sickness?” Dean repeats. “Yeah.” Sam says. “Oh God no,” Dean says, leaning on the car. “Yeah,” Sam says again. “I don’t even know what that is,” Dean says. “Okay, some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease. Which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses, and started taking them off to funeral homes.” “Okay, get to the good stuff,” Dean interrupts. “Symptoms are, you get anxious, then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out,” Sam says. “Sound familiar?” “Yeah but Sam we haven’t seen a ghost in weeks,” Dean says. “Well I doubt you caught it from a ghost,” Sam replies. “Look, once the ghost infects that first person, the sickness can spread like any sickness. Through a cough, a handshake, whatever. It’s like the flu. Now Frank O’Brian was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero.” “Our very own… outbreak monkey,” Dean says. “Right,” Sam replies. “Get this – Frank was in Malamy over the weekend. Softball tournament. Which is where he must have infected the other two victims.” “Were they Gamecocks?” Dean asks. “Cornjerkers,” Sam replies. “So a ghost infected Frank,” Dean begins, “he passed it onto the other guys, and I got it from his corpse?” “Right.” “So now what, I have fourty-eight hours before I go insane and my heart stops?” Dean asks. “More like twenty-four,” Sam says. “Super!” Dean says. “Well why me, why not you? I mean you got hit with the spleen-juice!” “Yeah, see Bobby and I have a theory about that, too,” Sam says. “Turns out all three victims shared a certain – uh- personality type. Frank was a bully, the other two victims – one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer.” “Okay?” Dean says, waiting. “Basically they were all dicks,” Sam says, looking uncomfortable. “So you’re saying I’m a dick?” Dean says, gaping at Sam. “No no no, it’s not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon. And now this disease is just returning the favour.” “I don’t scare people!” Dean says. “Dean, all we do is scare people!” Sam replies. “Okay well then you’re a dick too!” Dean says. “Apparently I’m not,” Sam says. “Whatever! How do we stop it?” Dean asks. “We gank the ghost that started all this,” Sam tells him. “We do that, the disease should clear up.” “You thinking Frank’s wife?” Dean asks. “Who knows why she killed herself, you know?” Sam says. “Hey, what are you doing waiting out here, anyway?” Dean looks uneasy. “Our room’s on the fourth floor. It’s – high.” “I’ll see if I can move us down to the first,” Sam says, making a face. “Thanks,” Dean says. “Sure,” Sam says, walking away. Dean gets back in the car to wait.

In their hotel room, Dean is sitting with a book, but is watching the clock. He can hear his own heart beating. He blinks and goes back to reading, then his eyes widen as he reads. “Ghost Sickness victims are affected by hallucinations…” it reads. Dean starts coughing, then looks down at the pictures. One is of a man with his chest split open, the other is of a man throwing up tons of blood. Dean squints – some of the words are starting to stand out from the page in bold. “You’re dying…” one says. “Again.” “Loser.” Dean rubs his eyes. “You gonna cry?” it says on the page. “Baby gonna cry?” Dean’s vision goes blurry, he drops the book and looks up at the clock, which is extremely loud.

Sam walks into the room, the clock is shattered on the floor. He looks around and sees Dean, drinking a beer on the couch. “Everything alright?” Sam asks. “Yeah,” Dean replies. “Just peachy. Find anything?” “Yup,” Sam says. “Jessie O’Brian’s body was cremated. So I’m pretty sure she is not our ghost.” He sees Dean scratching his arm and says, “Hey! Quit picking at that.” Dean stops. “How you feeling?” Sam asks. “Awesome,” Dean smiles. “Except I have my head on the chopping block again. I’d almost forgot what that feels like. It’s freakin’ delightful.” “We’ll keep looking,” Sam says reassuringly. Dean starts to cough. “You okay?” Sam asks, but Dean keeps coughing. He stands up and runs to the sink, where he coughs something big up. He picks it up and rinses it off, holding it up. “We’ve been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have!” Sam says. “You!” “I don’t wanna be a clue,” Dean says miserably, looking at the thing in his hand. “The abrasions, this, the disease – it’s trying to tell us something,” Sam says. “Tell us what, wood chips?” Dean says, holding up the piece of wood. “Exactly,” Sam grins.

The boys pull up into an old mill. There’s a sign outside that says “Cassity and Sons Lumber Mill”. They get out of the car, Dean is eyeing it worriedly. “I’m not going in there,” he says. Sam looks annoyed. “I need backup. You’re all I’ve got,” he says, knowing this will work. “We’re going in, Dean.” Dean takes a big swig of whiskey. “Let’s do this!” As he unlocks the trunk he says, “Looks a little spooky, doesn’t it?” Sam doesn’t answer. He picks up his shotgun, then hands Dean his pistol. “Oh, I’m not carrying that,” Dean says, not taking it. “It could go off!” Sam stares at him. “I’ll man the flashlight,” Dean says, picking it up. “You do that,” Sam says.

Inside, Sam moves first, carrying a shotgun, while Dean follows closely with the flashlight. They hear the EMF going off, and Sam pulls it out. It’s going off because of Dean again. “EMF’s not gonna work with me around, is it?” Dean asks. “You don’t say,” Sam says, putting it away. “Come on.” They start moving again. “Look,” Sam says, reaching out to touch Dean’s shoulder, and Dean jumps badly. Sam holds up his hand, then kneels down to pick up a ring off the ground. “To Frank. Love Jessie,” he reads. “Frank O’Brian’s ring.” “What the hell was Frank doing here?” Dean wonders. “No idea,” Sam says. They keep moving until they hear a strange sound, and they reach some lockers. Dean shines the flashlight on the lockers, where the sound is coming from, looking terrified. “On three,” Sam mouths. On three, he pulls open the door and a cat jumps out. Dean screams loudly, and Sam stares at him. “That was scary,” Dean says.

They head into another room, there are papers all over the floor. Dean finds an ID that says Luthor Garland on it, and then finds a drawing of a girl. “Hey this is – uh…” He pulls out the picture of Frank’s wife. “This is Frank’s wife!” he says. He goes to pick up the drawing and accidentally tears it. Suddenly, the sawmill starts up. The boys jump, and Dean starts shining the flashlight around. He sees a big man standing in the corner, and just stands, staring, until Sam notices. Sam approaches slowly, with the shotgun ready. “Hey!” he says. Sam looks back, only to see Dean sprinting out the door. Sam shakes his head and looks back at the big man, who has turned around now. He has bloody marks all over the side of his head. He starts to come at Sam, but Sam shoots him with rocksalt, and he disappears.

Outside, Dean is leaning on the Impala and drinking whiskey. Sam runs out. “Guess we got the right place,” he says, holding up the ID Dean found.

Sheriff’s office
Linus, the young deputy from earlier, hands Sam a folder. “This is the Garland file.” “Thanks.” Sam starts looking through it. Linus sees Dean, who is standing a ways behind Sam and scratching his arm. “Is he… drunk?” he asks. Sam glances at Dean, who gives him a thumbs up, and then says “No. Deputy, according to this, Luthor Garland’s cause of death was physical trauma. What does that mean?” “Guy died twenty years ago… Before my time,” Linus says. “Sorry.” “Can we talk to the sheriff?” Sam asks. “He’s out sick today,” Linus replies. “Well if you see him, will you have him call us?” Sam tells him where they’re staying, and starts to leave, taking the folder with him and motioning at Dean to follow. Dean doesn’t come though, instead smiling at Linus and saying “You’re awesome.” Sam comes back and pulls him away. “Who was that?” the sheriff asks over the speaker phone. “It’s uh – those FBI guys,” Linus says. “What did they want?” “A file. Luthor Garland. Sheriff?”

In his office, the sheriff is taking a wire pad to his arms, scratching them viciously. He loads a gun. “They know,” a voice says. He whirls around to see his own reflection in the glass of his trophy case. “They know. They know what you did. And now they’re gonna make you pay.”

Dean and Sam are at a senior’s home. As they round the corner, a little old lady is walking by. Dean jumps badly, then follows Sam. “This isn’t gonna work!” he says. “I mean come on, these badges are fake! What if we get busted? We could go to jail!” “Dean, shhhh!” Sam says, stopping to face his brother. “Calm down, deep breath, okay?” He takes a deep breath, and Dean follows suit. “There, you feel better?” Sam asks. Dean shakes his head. “Just come on,” Sam says. “Don’t scratch.”

Inside, they head to a table where an elderly man is sitting. “Mr. Garland, I’m Agent Tyler, this is Agent Perry, FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your brother Luthor,” Sam says. “Lemme see some ID,” the man says. Dean makes a panicked face, but Sam pulls out his ID calmly. They hand them over, and Dean shifts uneasily as the man watches. “Those are real,” Dean says. “Obviously. I mean, who would pretend to be an FBI agent, that’s just nutty!” Sam steps on his foot, and he stops. Sam tells the man that his brother Luthor died of phsycial trauma, and the man snorts. “You don’t agree?” Sam asks. The man says that it doesn’t matter what he thinks, and Sam tells him they just want the truth. Mr. Garland says that everybody was scared of Luthor, they called him a monster. “He was too big, too mean looking,” he goes on. Just too… different. Didn’t matter if he was the kindest man I ever knew. Didn’t matter he never hurt no one.” He starts to cry a little. “A lotta people failed Luthor. I was one of them. I was a widower, with three young ones, and I told myself there was nothing I could do.” Sam pulls out the drawing of Frank’s wife, and asks if Mr. Garland recognizes her. “That’s Jessie O’Brian,” he says. “Her man Frank killed her.” “How do you know that?” Sam asks. “Everybody knows,” Mr. Garland says. “They just don’t talk about it. Jessie was a receptionist. She was always real nice to Luthor. He had a crush on her. Frank didn’t like it. Then when Jessie went missing, Frank was sure Luthor had done something to her. Turns out the old gal killed herself. But Frank didn’t know that.”

We see Frank going into Luthor’s office, and seeing all the drawings of his wife on the walls. He has a shotgun. He drags Luthor outside, ties a chain around his neck, and attaches it to his car.

“They found Luthor with a chain around his neck. He was dragged up and down that stretch outside of that plant, until he was past dead.” “O’Brian was never arrested?” Dean asks. “I screamed to every cop in town,” Mr. Garland says. He says that Frank O’Brian was a pillar on the town, and his brother was just a freak. “You must have hated Frank O’Brian,” Sam says. “I did for a long time,” Mr. Garland says. “But… life’s too short for hate, son. And Frank wasn’t thinking straight. His wife had vanished, he was terrified. It’s a damn shame he had to put Luthor through the same, but… that’s fear. It spreads and spreads.”

“Now I know what these are,” Dean says, motioning at his arms. “Road rash. And I’m guessing Luthor swallowed some wood chips while he was being dragged down that road.” “Makes sense,” Sam says as the boys stop at the Impala. “You’re experiencing his death in slow motion.” “Yeah well, not slow enough,” Dean says. “Huh? I say we burn some bones, and get me healthy.” “Dean, it won’t be that easy,” Sam says. “No no, it’ll be that easy,” Dean says. “Why won’t it be that easy?” “Luthor was road-hauled,” Sam replies. “His body was ripped to pieces. He was probably scattered all over that road. There’s no way we’re gonna find all the remains.” “You’re kidding me,” Dean says. “Look, we’ll just have to figure something else out,” Sam says quickly. “You know what, screw this,” Dean says, starting to walk away. “Whoa whoa whoa, Dean, come on,” Sam begins. “No, I mean, come on, Sam. What are we doing?” Dean says. “We’re hunting a ghost,” Sam says. “A ghost, exactly! Who does that?” Dean cries. “Us,” Sam says. “Us! Right,” Dean stares at him. “And that, Sam, that is exactly why our lives suck! I mean come on, we hunt monsters! What the hell! I mean normal people, they see a monster and they run! But not us, no no no, we search out things that want to kill us! Huh? Huh? Or eat us! You know who does that? Crazy people! We –are insane! You know, and then there’s the bad diner food, and the schemy motel rooms, and the truck-stop waitress with the bizarre rash –I mean who wants this life, Sam? Huh? Seriously! I mean do you actually like being stuck in a car with me, eight hours a day, every single day? I don’t think so! I mean I drive too fast, and I listen to the same five albums over and over and over again and I sing along, I’m annoying, I know that, and you – you’re gassy! You eat half a burrito and you get toxic! I mean, you know what…” He throws Sam the car keys. “You can forget it.” He starts to walk away. “Whoa, Dean, where are you going?” Sam asks. “Stay away from me, Sam. Cause I am done with it!” Dean says, pointing at Sam. “I’m done with the monsters, and the hell hounds, and the ghost sickness, and the damn apocalypse! I’m out, I’m done. I quit.” He walks away. Sam watches him go, vaguely surprised.

Dean walks along alone, and suddenly he sees the little Yorkie.

Motel
Dean is sitting on one of the beds when Sam comes in the door. “I looked everywhere for you, Dean!” he says. “How the hell did you get here?” “Ran,” Dean says quietly. He’s breathing a little hard and looks terrified. Sam’s face softens a little and he walks over to sit beside Dean. “What do we do now?” Dean asks. “I mean I got less than four hours on the clock. I’m gonna die, Sammy.” “Yeah you are,” Sam says. Dean stares. “You’re going back,” Sam says. “Back?” Dean repeats. “Downstairs, Dean. Hell,” Sam replies. “It’s about damn time, too. Truth is, you’ve been a real pain in my ass.” His eyes turn yellow. Dean starts to get up, and is thrown backwards against the wall. “No, you get out of my brother you evil son of a bitch!” he yells. Sam laughs loudly. “No one’s possessing me, Dean! This is what I’m going to become. This is what I wanna be. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” He puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder. His eyes go yellow again, and he grabs Dean’s neck. “Hey hey hey hey, Dean! Hey!” Sam is saying frantically, holding Dean firmly, one hand on his chest. “Dean.” Dean looks at him, Sam is normal, he looks worried.

Bobby pulls up in his car, Sam is sitting on the Impala by himself, out in the middle of nowhere. “Hey Sam,” Bobby says, getting out of his car. “Hey Bobby, thanks for coming up so quick,” Sam says. “Where’s Dean?” Bobby asks. “Home sick,” Sam replies.

Dean is sitting in the motel room, scratching his arm as he watches TV. He watches as a little cartoon horse is dragged along behind a car, he looks horrified. “Oh, this isn’t helping,” he says.

“So, have his hallucinations started yet?” Bobby asks. “Yeah, a few hours ago,” Sam says. “How we doing on time?” Bobby asks. “Well we saw the coroner about 8 am Monday morning, so uh – just under two hours. What about you, you find anything?” Bobby shows him an encyclopedia of spirits. Sam looks at it. “You can read Japanese?” he asks. Bobby replies in Japanese. “Anyway, this book lists a kind of ghost that could be our guy,” he goes on. “It infects people with fear. It’s called a Buru Buru.” “Say how to kill it?” “Same as usual,” Bobby says. “Burn the remains.” “Wonderful,” Sam says. “Uh, is there a Plan B?” “Well the Buru Buru is born of fear. Hell, it is fear. And the lore says, you can kill it with fear,” Bobby says. “So we have to scare a ghost to death,” Sam says. “Pretty much,” Bobby replies. “How the hell we gonna do that?” Sam asks.

Dean’s phone rings, he picks it up. “Hey.” “Hey, so just ride out the trip okay? You’re gonna be fine,” Sam says. “I got a plan.” Dean turns off the TV. “What is it?” “Just a good plan,” Sam says. “Alright? Hang in there.” He hangs up. “This is a terrible plan!” Bobby says as he picks up his shotgun. “Yeah tell me about it,” Sam replies. “I know I said scare the ghost to death, but this?” Bobby says. “Hey, you got a better idea, I’m listening,” Sam says. Bobby shrugs, and they head to the sawmill.

Sam walks inside, looking around. Luthor is watching him, although Sam doesn’t see him.

Dean rubs his head, and suddenly stops. He hears howling, then barking. Something slams against the door. He jumps up, cowering behind the couch. Suddenly the door breaks down. Outside is the sheriff. “Sheriff? What are you doing?” Dean asks, standing up. He sees a gun in the sheriff’s hand. “Why are you looking into Luthor Garland’s death?” the sheriff asks loudly. “Hey, you’re sick,” Dean says, noticing blood on the sheriff’s sleeves. “You’re sick, just like me, okay? You gotta relax…” The sheriff hits him hard across the face, knocking Dean backwards. “Frank O’Brian was my friend!” the sheriff says. “So he made a mistake. So I didn’t bust him, so what! And you’re gonna bring me down over that? No sir.” He goes to shoot Dean, but Dean knocks the gun out of his hand, and the sheriff attacks him. They fight for a second, and then Dean sees through blurry vision black eyes on the sheriff. He throws him backwards, then slowly approaches. The sheriff is clutching his chest, his heart is pounding wildly. “Get away from me!” he yells. “Al you gotta calm down!” Dean orders. “Get back!” he yells, and then chokes, and dies.

Sam edges inside another room in the sawmill. “Any luck?” Bobby asks over a walkie-talkie. “Nah, I dunno what’s wrong, Bobby. Last time he came right at us,” Sam says. “It’s almost like he’s scared.” He puts down his shotgun. “So now what?” Bobby asks. “Guess I gotta make him angry,” Sam replies. He grabs some of Luthor’s drawings, and begins tearing them up as he yells Luthor’s name. The sawmill starts up. Sam continues to tear drawings, and then he senses something behind him. He slowly turns around. Luthor is there, and he grabs Sam.

In the motel room, Dean is frantically scratching his arms. “You’re going back,” he hears Sam’s voice say. “It’s about damn time, too.” Sam laughs. Dean hears hell hounds barking. Dean notices a book on the floor, and picks it up. It’s the Holy Bible. He clutches it. “Hi Dean,” a little girl’s voice says. Dean looks out of the corner of his eye and sees Lillith, in the same little girl’s body as before. “No,” he says. “No.” “Yes! It’s me, Lillith,” she says, smiling. She hugs him. “Oh, I missed you so much! It’s time to go back now.” Dean pulls away and stands up, backing away. “You, you are NOT real!” “What’s the matter, Dean? Don’t you remember all the fun you had down there?” Lillith asks. “You do remember. Four months is like forty years in Hell. Like doggy years. And you remember every second.” Dean clutches his chest suddenly, then falls to all fours. “You are not real,” he says again. She grabs his face and makes him look at her. “It doesn’t matter!” her eyes are white. “You’re still gonna die. You’re still gonna burn.” “Why me? Why’d I get infected?” Dean asks. “Silly goose. You know why, Dean,” she says. “Listen to your heart. Baboom.” Dean flinches. “Baboom. Baboom. Baboom.” Dean falls back, clutching his chest.

Meanwhile Sam is still getting thrown around by Luthor. He can’t seem to get the upperhand, but then finally he grabs a chain off the ground and flings it around the ghost’s neck. “Bobby! Punch it!” Sam yells. Bobby starts up the Impala and drives, Luthor is dragged backward out the door.

Lillith is still screaming “Baboom!” at Dean. He is looking weaker and weaker.

Bobby continues to drag Luthor down the road, until finally he disappears slowly. The sawmill stops. Bobby stops.

Dean breathes, coughing painfully. Lillith is gone. So are the scratches on his arms. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“So you guys road-hauled a ghost,” Dean is saying as he passes beer to Bobby and Sam. They are outside, at the cars. “With a chain?” “Iron chain. That’s how the spell worked,” Sam says. “Hm. Well that’s a new one,” Dean says. “It’s what he was most afraid of,” Sam says. “Was pretty brutal though.” “Well on the upside, I’m still alive, so, go team,” Dean says. “Yeah. How you feeling by the way?” Sam asks. “Fine,” Dean responds. “You sure, Dean? Cause this line of work can get awful scary,” Bobby says. “I’m fine,” Dean repeats. “What, you wanna go hunt? I’ll hunt. I’ll kill anything.” “Awww,” Sam says with a grin. “He’s adorable,” Bobby says. Sam laughs. “I gotta get out of here. You boys drive safe,” Bobby says, heading for his car. “You too, Bobby. Thanks,” Sam says. Bobby drives away. “So uh – what did you see?” Sam asks. “Near the end, I mean.” “What, besides a cop beating my ass?” Dean asks. “Seriously,” Sam says. Dean looks at him, and for a moment Sam’s eyes shine yellow. “Howler monkeys,” Dean says finally. “A whole room full of ‘em. Those things creep the hell out of me.” “Right.” Sam takes a drink of beer. “No. Just the usual stuff, Sammy. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Dean takes a drink.

Synopsis by Deanandhisimpala

Episode Music

Eye of the Tiger by Survivor

Extras

Episode Trailer Episode Screencaps Inside The Legend Audio Clips Episode Review

Video Clips

Scared
Snakes
Adorable
Jensen does 'Eye of the Tiger'