My Wayward Son » Supernatural [2] | ✓

22

( CROSSROADS )

GREENWOOD, MISSISSIPPI
AUGUST 1938

SALOON
[ ☾]

      A black man plays music with a band. He hears the growling of a dog, outside. He pauses, then resumes. Again, he stops, hearing eerie barking that nobody else seems to notice, and seeing a dark shape flitting past the window.

      The cigarette falls from his mouth; he is terrified. He stands, clutching his guitar, and bolts from the room in terror. The Woman and several others follow. The man, Robert stops, listening for the dog. He hears it, drops the guitar, and runs into a wooden house and bolts the door behind him.

      He hears the scrabbling and barking of the dog and draws a chair across the floor, wedging it under the door. He backs up slowly, then sinks to his knees, weeping.

      The door rattles violently until it flies open; two men and the Woman from earlier enter to find Robert on the floor, convulsing. "What is going on?" One Man asks

      "Oh my God!" The Woman goes to Robert, runs her hands over him. "Get a Doctor. Run!"

      The Old Man runs. The Woman leans over Robert, patting his face. "What happened? Talk to me!" She yells.

      "Dogs..." Robert says.

      "Stay with us, baby!" The Woman yells.

      "Dogs...Black dogs..." He says.

      "Robert? Robert, don't you die on me!"

PRESENT

DINER
[ ☼ ]

      Sam, Elena and Dean are sitting at a table, Sam with his laptop open. Onscreen is a mugshot of Dean from the St. Louis Police Department. "So much for our low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database." Sam says.

      Dean grins. "Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something." He says.

      "Dean, it's not funny. Makes the job harder, we've gotta be more careful now." Elena says.

      "Well, what do they got on you guys?" Dean asks.

      "On me, nothing." Elena says.

      "I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet." Sam mutters.

      "No accessory? Nothing?" Dean asks

      "Shut up." Says Sam.

      Dean begins laughing. "You're jealous." He says to Sam.

      "No, I'm not!" Sam yells.

      "Uh-huh. All right. What do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you?" Dean asks.

      Sam shuts his computer, annoyed, and pulls out several pages of research. "Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed." Sam says.

      "Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?" Dean asks.

      "Two days earlier." Sam says.

      "Did he actually say Black Dog?" Dean asks.

      "Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town." Sam says. "After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive."