"Screw Cas!! Quit being Dalai frickin' Yoda about this, okay?" He punched his hand with his fist. "Get pissed!"

Sam sighed. "I'm too tired. This is what happens when you throw a soul into Lucifer's dog bowl. And you think there's just gonna be some cure out there?" He looked at his brother and friend sadly. Dean nodded and bit his lips and Francesca took his hand.

"Oh, you guys are having a moment," Hallucifer realized.

Dean and Francesca left the room.

Francesca placed a hand on Dean's cheek. "We'll find him help. Just have a little faith, Dee."

INT. HOUSE - DAY

Dean and Francesca were looking through a journal and talking on the phone.

"I'm a friend of Bobby Singer's," Dean said. "I'm looking for some info. If you could, uh, call me back. 785-555-0128. Thanks."

He hung up and crossed a name off a list.

INT. HOSPITAL - DAY

The nurse took Sam's blood pressure and temperature as Hallucifer looked on.

INT. HOUSE - DAY

Francesca spoke sarcastically into the phone. "Oh, I'm so sorry to have bothered you."

She shook her head and Dean crossed another name off the list. Eight names were crossed off.

INT. HOSPITAL - DAY

Hallucifer was reading from a large book. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from Hallucifer.

"Narcissistic personality disorder," Hallucifer said. "Okay, now, this one I could have."

The nurse entered. "Time for meds, Sam."

"Sets unrealistic goals. Check. But trouble keeping healthy relationships? Not so sure about that one. Thoughts?"

INT. HOUSE - DAY

Dean sighed and spoke into his phone. "Yeah. Thanks." He crossed out another name, closed the journal and picked up a smaller journal. He tossed the smaller journal onto a table as he walked to the refrigerator. As he took out the can, the journal fell to the ground. Saoirse, who was closest, picked it up. A business card for Mackey's Taxidermy had fallen out. On the back was a cell phone number.

Dean called the number. "Yeah, hi. Um... my name's Dean. I'm a friend of Bobby Singer's. I'm, uh, looking for some info. If you could call me back at 785-555-0128. Thanks." He hung up.

INT. HOSPITAL - DAY

Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed with his eyes closed.

Dr. Kadinsky entered. "Sam, how are we feeling today? Rib pain - scale of 1 to 10?"

"It's - it's not bad. Um," Sam cleared his throat, "three."

"You don't have to lie, Sam."

"I'm - I'm not."

"You've suffered terrible agony. I mean, your 10 must be astronomical."

"Yeah. I-I guess I have a high threshold."

"Yeah. But the worst is knowing that there's always a new 10."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I'm talking about the truly elegant torture I have prepared for you today..." he morphed into Lucifer, "...Sam."

Sam got up and turned away from Hallucifer. "Just stay the hell away from me."

"But it's - it's so nice chatting. Sam, I hate these one-sided conversations. Come on, buddy." He raised his fists. "Engage. Sam? You... me... locked ward. Is it me, or is this just like the Cage?"

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