Supernatural

Look, Dad's gone now. We have to carry out his legacy.

And that means hunting down as many evil sons of bitches as we possibly can.

What just happened?

That's a Devil's Gate. A damned door to hell.

How certain are you that what you brought back...

...is 100 percent pure Sam?

Tell me who you are. Doesn't matter.

Just tell me who you are.

- You're a demon. - I wanna help you from time to time.

- Why would you help me? - I could help save your brother.

Back in 1835, Samuel Colt made a special gun.

This gun can kill anything.

One more.

That's all for tonight, Sister.

Come on. Let me walk you to your car.

Father?

- Andy? - Father...

...God's not with us.

- Not anymore. - Andy, of course he is.

- Why would say that? What's wrong? He can't help us.

And if he can...

...he won't.

Andy, wait!

Hey. - Hey, what's up?

Might've found some omens in Ohio. Dry lightning, barometric pressure drop.

That's thrilling.

Plus, guy blows his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop.

- Might be demonic omens. - Or it could be a suicide...

...and a psycho scrapbooker. - But it's our best lead since Lincoln.

- Where? - Elizabethville.

It's a half-dead factory town in the rust belt.

There's gotta be a demon in South Beach.

Sorry, Hef, maybe next time.

- How's it going, Bobby? - Slow.

Man, I tell you, it's sad seeing the Colt like that.

Only thing it's good for is figuring out what makes it tick.

So, what makes it tick?

So if we wanna go check out these omens in Ohio...

...think you can have that ready by this afternoon?

Well, it won't kill demons by then, but I can promise you it'll kill you.

- Come on. We're wasting the daylight. - See you, Bobby.

Hey, you boys run into anything, anything, you call me.

There's not much left for the insurance company.

It was a suicide. Saw it myself.

Well, this shouldn't take long, then.

That's where Andy did it.

It's the first time I'd seen him in weeks. He used to come every Sunday.

When did he stop?

Oh, probably about two months ago.

Right around the time everything else started to change.

Change how?

Oh, let's just say this used to be a town you could be proud of.

People cared about each other.

Andy sang in the choir.

And then one day he just wasn't Andy anymore.

It was like he was...

Possessed?

You could say that.

Gambled away his money, cheated on his wife, destroyed his business.

Yes.

- Like a switch had flipped. - Father, did you know the man...

...who killed those folks in the hobby shop?

- Sure, Tony Perkins. - Tony Perkins.

Good man.

Would you say that his personality suddenly changed one day too?

I never thought about it that way...

...but, yes.

About the same time as Andy, about two months ago.

Well, thank you, Father. Appreciate your time.

Two months ago, we opened up the Devil's Gate...

...all of a sudden this town turns into Margaritaville? It's no coincidence.

Richie.

- I don't believe it. - Hey, Dean Winchester, right?

Yeah. - Yeah.

Oh, um.

This is my sister, uh...

...Cheryl. Heh.

Hey. - Hi, Cheryl.

Here.

Well, you know, stepsister.

Come on in. This is my brother, Sam.

Hey, how you doing? Not too bad.

Yeah. - How do you two know each other?

- You were in school. - It was that succubus in Canarsie, right?

- Yeah, yeah. - Oh, man.

You should have seen the rack on this broad.

Frigging tragedy when I had to gank her.

Whoa, whoa, wait. Who...? Who killed her?

I remember your ass was toast until I showed up.

I forgot what a comedian this guy was.

Richie, I told you then, I'll tell you again.

You're not cut out for this job. You're gonna get yourself killed.

Talk to me.

FYI, Winchester. Words hurt.

Yeah. No, it's not a good time, baby. Later.

So you find anything in town anyway?

Oh, no, I got nothing.

Wait, you mean as in demons and whatnot?

- Yeah. - Yeah. No, I got nothing.

Typical.

- What about your sister back there? - Oh, honestly?

She definitely had the devil in her.

But she wasn't no demon. You know what I'm saying?

Right.

Seriously, church guy, hobby-shop guy, they were lunch meat...

...by the time I got there. Maybe they were possessed, but I can't prove it.

Yeah, that's where we are too.

Let's say that demons are possessing people in town, you know, raising hell...

Why would demon blow his brains out?

For fun? You know, he wrecks one body, moves to another.

- Like taking stolen car for a joyride. - Anybody in town that fits the profile?

- Nice guy turned douche, still breathing? - There's Trotter.

- Who's that? - He used to be head of the rotary club.

Then people say he turned bastard all the sudden.

Brought in the gambling, the hookers. He practically owns this whole town.

- You know where we could find him? - Oh, he'll be at his bar in a few hours.

I thought this was some boarded-up factory town.

It is. Or at least it's supposed to be.

Well, what are we waiting for? Let's do some research.

Richie, look at you. - Hey.

- Bringing satin back. - Oh, you like this?

Try Thai Silk. Canal Street.

You have to pay $300 for threads like these, easy.

Of course, to me? Forget about it.

- How much is "forget about it"? - Ah, forget about it.

That's Trotter over there.

- He sits there all night. Can't touch him. - So, what do we do now?

Don't know, but I'm gonna do a little investigating with that bartender.

Easy. Me and her, we got a little something-something lined up for later.

- Yeah, right. - Stings, don't it?

All right, I gotta hit the head. Release the hostages.

Be back in a few.

No way he gets a girl like that. I mean, look at her.

- You could fit that ass on a nickel. - You think so?

Oh, ha, ha. Sorry, Padre.

Knew you boys would find your way here. They all do.

No offense...

...but what are you doing here, Father?

Like it or not, you go where your flock is.

- Plus the clergy drinks for free. True.

And a certain bartender owes me a confession.

Not in this lifetime, Father.

I better see your butt on Sunday.

Nickel or no nickel.

- What can I get you boys? - What's your specialty?

I make a mean hurricane.

I guess we'll see about that.

- You drink hurricanes? - I do now.

- Hi, John. Reggie.

- Everything okay with you? I don't know.

- I'm just not feeling myself today. - Hey.

Help! Unh.

What are you doing?

He slept with my wife.

- The bastard slept with my wife. - Somebody call 911.

Behind your back.

- Too many cops here, I say we bolt. - Just be cool.

Poor jerk. Only thing possessing him was a sixer of Pabst.

So, what's the deal, then? People getting possessed or not?

I don't know. Maybe it is just what it is. A town full of scumbags.

- Yeah, maybe. You boys ready for your mug shots?

Photographer's gonna be here in a few and take your picture for the local paper.

Be an honor, officer. What a thrill.

Yup, time to go.

- Wait a second. Wait a second. - What?

Where's Richie?

So how's a bartender afford a place like this?

My parents left it to me.

I don't come out here much.

Mostly when I wanna be alone.

Wow, this is, uh, charming.

You sure you wouldn't be more comfortable in a bedroom?

Or, uh, my motel room?

I mean, not for nothing. But, you know, I got oils.

But I have toys.

Yeah, no, toys trump oils.

You don't, uh, get scared down here all by yourself?

Of course not. Not when I've got a hunter to protect me.

Thanks.

You do realize there's red meat within striking distance, right?

How many times I gotta tell Richie he's gonna get in trouble?

Dean, you're assuming he's missing.

- I mean, maybe he just bailed. - He's a moron.

He's a sweet moron, but he's not a coward. He wouldn't just bail.

- I gotta go find him. All right.

Meanwhile, I think I'm gonna trail this Trotter guy.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

I don't know. Something about the way he looked at me last night.

Maybe there is something going on here.

Cute piece.

- Who are you? - Won't stop a demon...

...if that's what you think. - How would you know?

Oh, I don't know.

Call it an educated guess.

Well, ain't I lucky, then?

Found a subject for a test fire.

Luck had nothing to do with it.

But, hey, by all means, take your best shot.

Are you gonna stand there like a pantywaist or are you gonna shoot...?

Ouch.