( BLOODY SAM )
UNDERPASS
[ ☼ ]
Dean is on his cell phone, leaning against his car. He is fidgeting, clearly upset. Elena stands next to him. "Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him? I swear, it's like looking for my dad all over again. I'm losing my mind here. No, I've called him a thousand times, there's nothing but voicemail. I don't know where he went, or why. Sam's just gone." His cell phone beeps. "Hang on."
The phone shows another incoming call - Sam's cell. He answers it. "Sammy? Where the hell are you? Are you okay? Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Where are you? All right, don't move, I'm on my way."
MOTEL
[ ☼ ]
Sam hangs up the phone slowly, looking numb. His knuckles are bloody. Dean drives to reach Sam, passing a sign reading Twin Lakes.
Dean and Elena arrive at the hotel and parks, gets out. They walk frantically down a narrow hallway, checking door numbers until they reaches room 109. Dean knocks. "Sam, it's me. Sam!"
He tries the door - it's open. Inside, Sam hasn't moved, still sitting numbly on one bed. Elena runs to him, kneeling. "Sam? Hey." She says.
"Hey, guys."
Dean also kneels beside him. "Are you bleeding?" He asks.
"I tried to wash it off." Sam says.
Elena sees Sam's shirt covered in blood; she gropes at it, searching for a wound. "Oh my god."
"I don't think it's my blood." Sam says.
"Whose is it?" Dean asks.
"I don't know."
"Sam, what the hell happened?" Dean asks.
Sam finally looks up. "Dean. I don't remember anything."
Dean returns to the room, carrying a grocery bag. Sam has changed clothes and is looking a little less out of it. "What'd you find out?" Elena asks Dean as he comes in.
"You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora. Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan." Dean says.
"Dean." Sam warns.
"Your room's been quiet, nobody's noticed anything unusual." Dean says.
"You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood?" Sam asks.
"Yeah. That's what I mean."
"Then how the hell did I get here, Dean? What happened to me?" Sam asks.
"I don't know. But you're, you're okay, and that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with." Dean says.
Sam looks at him in disbelief. "Oh really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse?"
"Sam..." Elena starts.
"What if this is what Dad warned you about?" Sam asks.
"Hey, whoa, whoa, come on man, let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened." Dean says. "We've just got to treat this like, like any other job. What's the last thing you remember?"
Sam sits down. "Just me, you and Elena just, in that motel room in West Texas, going out to grab some burgers, and..."
"West Texas? That was, that was over a week ago." Elena says.
"That's it." Sam says and Dean looks stunned. "Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month."
"Okay. Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so..." Dean pulls back the curtain, he finds a bloody fingerprint on the window. "Hey."
Later, Sam, Elena and Dean walk outside the motel. It's daylight, but raining. "Recognize anything?" Dean asks.
"Not really." Sam says and they go towards a parking garage out back. "Wait."
"What?" Elena asks.
"I think I was here." Sam says.
"You remember?" Dean asks.
"Not really, it just feels familiar, you know?" Sam says. Dean shrugs, goes to the nearest garage. Sam looks over to the second, points.. "Try that one. Yeah."
Dean tugs on the padlock. "Okay." He says.
"Wait." Sam digs in his pocket, frowning. He pulls out a key, gives Dean a significant look.
Dean opens the padlock with the key, raising his eyebrows at Sam. He pulls the garage door open to reveal a filthy, beat-up VW Beetle. "Oh, please tell me you didn't steal this." Dean says. Sam fidgets.
They go into the garage and open both doors of the car, Sam on the driver's side. He touches the wheel, shows Dean his stained finger. "More blood." Sam says.
Dean points to something. "Sam. Back seat." Sam reaches down, picks up a blood-stained knife that sticks to the floor of the backseat. He stares at it.
"You think I used this on someone?" Sam asks.
"I'm not thinking anything." Dean says.
Sam looks around, rubs the knife handle off on the inside of his jacket. Elena picks up a pack of cigarettes. "Okay now, this is disturbing." She says.
"Come on, man, this couldn't have been you. Had to have been someone else, someone who..." Dean says and sniffs the pack. "smokes menthols."
"Here. Gas receipt. Few towns over." Sam says.
GAS STATION
[ ☼ ]
Sam, Elena and Dean pull up in front of a small gas station. "All right. Receipt's for ten gallons at pump number two. You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? God, this looks familiar, deja vu vibes?" Dean says and Sam shakes his head quietly. "Maybe someone inside will remember you. Come on."
They go into the convenience store; the clerk looks up in shock, then anger. "You. Outta here now, I'm calling the cops." He says to Sam.
"You talking to him?" Dean asks as he points to Sam.
"Yeah, I'm talking to him. Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging it." The Clerk says.
"This guy?" Dean asks and turns to Sam. "You're drinking malt liquor?"
"Not after he whipped the friggin' bottle at my head."
Dean still looks wary as he points to Sam. "This guy?" He repeats.
"What, am I speaking Urdu?" The Clerk asks.
"Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything..." Sam starts.
"Tell your story walkin', pal. Po-po will be here in five." The Clerk says.
Dean puts his hands up in a surrendering motion. "Wait, wait, put the phone down. Sam, go wait in the car."
"But Dean-" Sam starts.
"Go wait in the car!" Dean yells and Sam sighs, then leaves. "Okay, look, man. I just want to talk to you, that's it. Okay? Now, when he took off yesterday, where did he go?"
"Why don't you ask him?"
"Cause I'm asking you. Now please, you'd be doing me a huge favor." Dean says.
"Oh, do you a favor? Well, that is what I live for. You know, your buddy didn't pay for the booze. Okay? Or the smokes, which he also illegally lit up." The Clerk says.
Elena raises her eyebrows. "You saw him smoking?" She asks.
"Yeah. Guy's a chimney."
Dean clears his throat and pulls his wallet out, places some bills on the desk. "This, uh, ought to cover it." He says.
"Hmm. It's, uh, it's coming back to me now. He took two packs." The Clerk says.
Dean pulls out more money. "Of course he did." He says.
"He went north. Route 71, straight out of town." Dean nods, grabs two candy bars and leaves with a smirk.
ROAD
[ ☾]
Dean is driving down a dark road, and Sam is staring out the window. "What's going on with you, Sam? Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like me than you." Dean says.
"Dean, wait, right here. Turn down that road." Sam says.
"What?"
"I don't know how I know, I just do." Sam says.
Dean turns down a back road and onto a private property. It is a large house with plenty of emergency lighting and security cameras outside.
"Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises." Elena says.
"Should we knock?" Dean asks.
"Yeah, I guess."
Dean knocks on the front door while Sam pokes around the corner. "Hey Dean." Sam waves his flashlight at a window; it is broken, the ledge covered in shattered glass.
"I'm surprised the cops didn't show. Place like this you'd think it'd have an alarm." Dean says.
Sam finds a disabled alarm on the wall. "Yeah, you would."
They go into the house; the floor is covered in broken glass and scattered items. In a back room, they come across a body on the floor.
"Get the lights." Dean says and Elena turns the lights on as Dean kneels behind the body. He places a hand on it and turns it over; it is a middle-aged man with a deeply cut throat; he is dead, his eyes staring. Dean puts a hand over his own mouth.
Sam looks horrified. "Dean, I did this." He says.
"We don't know that."
"What else do you need? I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood?" Sam asks.
"I don't know, man, why don't you tell me?" Dean says. "Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a good reason; you know, self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something." He pats down the body. "He doesn't have any ID."
"I need your lockpick." Sam says.
"What?" Dean asks.
"I need your lockpick." Sam takes the lockpick and opens a double-door closet in the room.
Inside the room, one wall is covered in firearms, the others in charts and clippings. "Either this guy's a Unabomber..." Dean starts.
"Or a hunter. Dean, I think I killed a hunter." Sam says.
Dean sees a security camera near the ceiling. "Let's find out." He says.
Later, Sam is sitting in front of the desktop computer, Dean standing behind. He cues up the security tape. "Here we go."
On the tape, Sam is fighting the same man who lies dead on the floor behind them. The fight moves off camera and Sam drags the man back into the frame; he kneels, the man pulled up against his legs, and slits his throat.
Elena stares in shock as Dean pulls back from the screen and stands straight. Close on Sam, eyes downcast.