Transcripts - Forever Dreaming

DEAN: So?

SAM: What?

DEAN: You find anything on the Seal of Solomon?

SAM: Well, I’ve been digging through the lore, but so far, nothing.

DEAN: Great. So we got Cas in Syria dodging b*ll*ts, trying to find fruit from the Tree of Life. We don’t know where Lucifer is, so we can’t get grace from an archangel. And uh, what’s the last ingredient of this spell we’re never gonna find?

SAM: Blood of a most holy man.

DEAN: A most holy man. What – what – what does that mean?

SAM: No idea. I’ve been thinking maybe, uh, blood of a saint?

DEAN: A saint?

SAM: Yeah.

DEAN: Yeah, should be easy to get.

SAM: Well, actually, uh, turns out there’s a huge market for religious relics. Hair of a martyr, um, nails from the True Cross.

DEAN: Okay, okay. One, ew. Two, where is this market?

SAM: Online.

DEAN: Ah. The internet. Not just for porn anymore.

SAM: Anyway, a lot of this is fake, obviously, but I-I did find one dealer who seems to be legit – Margaret Astor. Worth a shot?

DEAN: Yeah. Good. Why not? I don’t think I can take another one of these cold pieces of Papa Giovanni’s.

DEAN: Miss Astor?

MARGARET: Ms. will do.

SAM: Of course. Great. Uh, may we sit?

MARGARET: Please. So, gentlemen, what can I do for you?

SAM: Okay, we, um, we’re interested in obtaining a very rare religious artefact, and – and we were told that maybe you’d be the person to help us out.

MARGARET: Really?

SAM: Yeah.

MARGARET: Who told you that?

DEAN: The internet.

MARGARET: So… this is not a personal recommendation?

SAM: No. Um, is – is that a problem?

MARGARET: Personal relationships are very important to me.

[SAM reaches over and places his hand over MARGARET’s.]

MARGARET: What sort of help do you need?

SAM: We need, um… the blood of a saint.

MARGARET: Really?

SAM: Yeah.

MARGARET: What ever for?

DEAN : Does it matter?

MARGARET: I was asking...

SAM: Sam.

MARGARET: Sam.

MARGARET: So, Sam, what can you tell me?

SAM: Unfortunately, not very much. Just that it’s very, very important to us. To me.

MARGARET: Well, of course it is. Blood of a saint – very rare, very expensive. It just so happens I might know one person who would have such an item. Do I dare give you the name?

SAM: Please. I would be very much in your debt.

MARGARET: Well, that’s lovely. But know, Sam… I like to collect on what’s owed to me. His name is Richard Greenstreet. He lives in Seattle. I’ll provide an introduction, but that’s as far as I’ll go.

SAM: Perfect. Thank you.

MARGARET: Oh, don’t thank me yet. Greenstreet has all the trappings of a gentleman, but… I would advise caution.

GREENSTREET: Your names again?

DEAN: This is Sam. I’m Dean Vaughn. We’re from Rhode Island.

GREENSTREET: Rhode Island. My, you are a long way from home. Do you happen to know the Machin twins out of Newport?

SAM: The Machin twins? Uh, well, we don’t know them personally, but obviously, we know of them.

GREENSTREET: Mm. Interesting. Because to the best of my knowledge, there are no Machin twins from Newport. So who are you really?

DEAN: This is Sam. I’m Dean Winchester. We were told that you might have something that we need.

GREENSTREET: What might that be?

SAM: Blood of a saint.

GREENSTREET: Blood of a saint. Why… yes. I do believe I possess such an item. Cost me a small fortune to obtain.

SAM: Right. We need some for a worthy cause.

GREENSTREET: I gave up on worthy causes years ago. And as I said, the blood cost me a fortune. Judging by your Montgomery Ward suits and your cheap ties, I’m guessing you don’t have a small fortune, or for that matter, two nickels to rub together. So I’m quite afraid this has been a waste of your time, and more importantly, mine. Good day, gentlemen.

GREENSTREET: Wait.

GREENSTREET: I suppose we can be of service to one another. Since you had the nerve to come in here under false pretences, I assume you won’t be above a little bit of chicanery. Hmm?

SAM: Yes.

DEAN: We’re listening.

GREENSTREET: Sit.

GREENSTREET: A short while ago, a valuable item that I covet was removed from its ancestral home in Malta. I believe the thief was working for a man named Santino Scarpatti.

DEAN: Scarpatti, the mob boss?

GREENSTREET: You’ve heard of him.

DEAN: I’ve heard enough to know he kills people.

GREENSTREET: Oh, yes. I suppose he does. In any case, here is my proposal – you procure said item for me, and I will trade it for the blood.

SAM: And what kind of item is it that we’re talking about?

GREENSTREET: The skull of St. Peter.

DEAN: Okay… we steal the skull from the head of the Seattle mob. In exchange, you’ll give us the blood of…

GREENSTREET: St. Ignatius. Hmm. That’s correct.

DEAN: Yeah. We can do that. No problem. What else can you tell us?

GREENSTREET: Rumor has it, the skull is supposed to be turned over tomorrow night. Unfortunately, I don’t know the name of the thief or where the meet is supposed to take place.

DEAN: That’s not a lot to go on.

GREENSTREET: I have faith.

SAM: So, this is what we’ve come to? Thieves?

DEAN: Hey, you want the blood, right? Well… besides, the thing’s already stolen.

SAM: Really? That’s your rationale?

DEAN: Hey, I’m not perfect. And by the way, neither are you, okay? Oh, so, what? Now you’re above a little, uh, chicanery? Look, this isn’t a perfect world we’re trying to save, okay. And if I’m not perfect trying to save it, then so be it. Come on. You with me or not?

DEAN: Watcha readin’?

WOMAN: A book on the supernatural.

DEAN: Really? So, you’re into the supernatural?

WOMAN: I am.

DEAN: I should sit down.

SAM: Dean. Hey.

DEAN: [to the WOMAN] Excuse me.

WOMAN: Sure.

SAM: I got it.

DEAN: [annoyed] Nice timing. What?

SAM: Alright, get this. So, I hacked into airline records and checked the names of anybody and everybody who travelled from Malta to Seattle in the first three days after the skull was stolen. There were five people. The fifth guy named, uh… Antonio Miele. With little past I can dig up on him seems… checkered.

DEAN: Sounds a little thin, but you wouldn’t happen to know where this Miele guy is right now, would you?

SAM: As a matter of fact, I do. He checked into the Patricia Hotel right here in downtown Seattle yesterday.

SAM: Excuse me. I…

SAM: Alright.

DEAN: Hey.

SAM: Oh.

DEAN: Well, rest in peace, Antonio Miele.

DEAN: What the hell happened here?

FAKE COP: Hands up. No sudden moves.

DEAN: Take it easy, take it easy. Hold on just a second.

FAKE COP: Move towards the window.

SAM: Yep, yep. Of course.

FAKE COP: Now sit down. And cuff yourselves to the radiator.

DEAN: You know there’s a dead body over here.

FAKE COP: I see him.

SAM: What department are you with?

FAKE COP: Shut up.

SAM: Where’s your partner?

FAKE COP: I work alone. I said shut up.

DEAN: Maybe you should call this in.

FAKE COP: I said shut up!

FAKE COP: I’m gonna go call this in right now. Don’t you two go anywhere.

DEAN: You see that badge? It’s like he got it out of a cereal box.

SAM: Yeah. g*n looked real enough, though.

DEAN: I don’t think he’s coming back, but he probably is calling it in, so…

DEAN: Look at you. You’re like a Boy Scout. You’re always prepared.

SAM: Yeah. You’re like uh… I don’t know what you’re like.

DEAN: Yeah. Thanks.

DEAN: Alright, so if the dead guy on the floor up there, Miele, was the original thief, then who k*lled him?

SAM: I don’t know. Maybe Greenstreet got to him before we could. In that case, he probably has the skull.

DEAN: Well, then who’s the fake cop? Who does he work for?

SAM: Scarpatti?

DEAN: No, he was still looking for something. Why would Scarpatti whack the guy before he finds the skull?

SAM: “Whack”?

DEAN: It’s mob talk.

SAM: Mob… Well, colorful.

DEAN: Yeah.

DEAN: Call I help you, fellas?

MOB GUY: Mr. Scarpatti wants to see you two.

DEAN: I think we’ll pass.

MOB GUY: Yeah, that, uh, wasn’t a request.

SAM: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay, okay, okay.

MOB GUY: I’ll drive.

DEAN: I don’t think so.

MOB GUY: Again, not a request.

SAM: It’s good.

MOB GUY: Come on.

SAM: Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it.

MOB GUY: Nice car.

DEAN: Yeah. Enjoy.

SCARPATTI: Sit. Sit.

SCARPATTI: So… Sam and Dean Winchester. We uh… we done a little checkin’. You know? And, uh… you know, officially… you guys both died six years ago.

SAM: Well, it’s a funny story. So-

SCARPATTI: Hey, look, I-I don’t care.

SAM: Right.

SCARPATTI: You know, my point is that, if you were to get whacked now… relax. If I wanted you dead… you got my point, right?

SAM: Yep.

SCARPATTI: Good. So, so let’s talk. Alright? I understand you made a deal with Greenstreet?

SAM: How do you know that?

SCARPATTI: I keep any eye on my enemies. Now… that was your first mistake, working for him. Greenstreet… he’s – he’s a farabutto. You know, a scoundrel. He’s got no reverence for these sacred artefacts. He – he has no respect. Now me? You know, my motives are pure. I feel it’s my duty as a good Catholic to give these beautiful relics a home.

DEAN: Well… technically, the relic had a home, and then you had it stolen.

SCARPATTI: Now why would you get involved with a man like Greenstreet?

SAM: He has something we need. And the skull was our – our price we had to pay for it.

SCARPATTI: It’s a devil’s bargain.

SCARPATTI: Alright. So, I’m gonna tell you what you should know, okay? I made a deal with Miele. I paid half the price for the skull up-front and I agreed to give him the rest on delivery. But now he’s dead. And believe me, I didn’t k*ll him. So, the skull is missing. Now since I paid half of what was owed, I believe that skull rightfully belongs to me.

DEAN: But it was stolen. I don’t know, “rightfully belongs to you”?

SCARPATTI: You believe this guy? You got a set on you, pal. You talk to me like that in this room?

DEAN: And?

SCARPATTI: My point is, whatever the case is, you two now are in the middle of this thing, alright? So, I’m gonna make you a very nice proposition. You find my skull, and I will give you a handsome finder’s fee. And then you can buy whatever it is you need to get from Greenstreet, okay?

SAM: And what if we say no?

SCARPATTI: That would be your second mistake. And believe me, you probably won’t get a third one.

DEAN: Great. Deal.

SCARPATTI: Good. Very good.

DEAN: Now… what happens if we can’t find the skull?

SCARPATTI: As they say at NASA, failure… is not an option.

SAM: Alright, tell me, why are we here again?

DEAN: Gotta start somewhere. Key to this whole thing is in that room. I can feel it.

SAM: Oh. Oh, you can feel it? Why didn’t you say so?

SAM: What?

DEAN: Cop.

SAM: Great. Any ideas?

DEAN: Stay here.

SAM: [to himself] Really, Dean? You can feel it.

DEAN: Alright. We’re good to go.

DEAN: Sam? Sammy!

DEAN: Sure you’re not drowsy? How many fingers am I holding up?

SAM: I’m fine.

DEAN: Okay, I’m just saying, you’re taking a lot of sh*ts to the head lately. I mean, I know that Disney Princess hair gives you some padding, but, uh…

SAM: Yeah, that’s him. Or at least I think that’s the guy.

DEAN: Alright, well, if he clocked you, then who clocked him?

DEAN Where is it?

SAM: The piece of paper you took off me – where is it?

MAN/FATHER LUCCA: I don’t… He took it.

SAM: He? He who?

MAN/FATHER LUCCA: The other man. I-I don’t know. I didn’t see his face.

DEAN: Great. That’s awesome.

SAM: Okay, okay. Let’s start from the beginning. Who are you?

FATHER LUCCA: My name… my name is Lucca Camilleri.

DEAN: Uh, Father Lucca Caman… yeri.

SAM: You’re a priest?

FATHER LUCCA: Si.

SAM: Why are you here?

FATHER LUCCA: I’m searching for something.

DEAN: Let me guess – about yea big, used to be some holy dude’s brain basket?

FATHER LUCCA: The skull of St. Peter. It was stolen from a nunnery, my parish, eight days ago. They asked me to get it back.

SAM: Really?

FATHER LUCCA: Our local police can’t handle something like this, and the sisters, they have faith in me.

DEAN: How’s that working out for ‘em?

SAM: So, what? You just thought you’d uh… come here and steal it back?

FATHER LUCCA: No. I was gonna buy it. Thieves only understand one thing – money – so I-I-I brought money. All the money that we had.

FATHER LUCCA: My village is a small place, and Miele… when he vanished after the skull went missing, we all knew what he’d done. So, I followed him here.

DEAN: And k*lled him.

FATHER LUCCA: No, mio Dio (my God). No, I would never do that. When I arrived, he was already dead. I… and I didn’t know what to do.

SAM: So you hit me?

FATHER LUCCA: The skull was gone. When I saw you found something, I-I-I lost my head, okay? Look, that relic means everything to my congregation. And I understand that sounds strange to you, but… Imagine you woke up one morning, and this thing you loved, this thing you and your parents and your children saw every week, this thing you prayed to since you were old enough to form words, was just gone. What would you do?

SAM: Try to get it back.

FATHER LUCCA: And I did. And I failed. And – and this never should’ve happened.

DEAN: Yeah, well, the world’s a screwed place, padre. What are you gonna do about it?

FATHER LUCCA: Change it.

DEAN: Yeah, good luck with that.

FATHER LUCCA: It’s not about luck, son. It’s about effort. All the time, I hear people saying the world’s not perfect. And they’re right. It’s not. But do you use that as an excuse? Do you use it to excuse your own sins? Your failings and your laziness? Do you use it to give a bad man power, because the world’s not perfect? Or do you work? Do you try and improve things in whatever way you can? Guys, the world will never be perfect, but if good men do good things, it can be better. Every day can get better.

FATHER LUCCA: I-I’m sorry, I know I talk too much. I just… I just wanna go home.

DEAN: Without the skull?

FATHER LUCCA: Yes.

SAM: No. What if we get the skull back for you?

DEAN: Sam – excuse me. Can I talk to you?

SAM: What?

DEAN: The hell are you doin’?

SAM: We have to find it anyways.

DEAN: Yeah, and give it to Greenstreet and then get our fill up on Jesus juice.

SAM: Or we get the skull back and then we arrange a meet and then…

DEAN: What? Double-cross him?

SAM: Why not?

SAM: Okay, look. Look at this. Father Lucca Camilleri, born in Malta. He spent the last two decades of his life doing charity work all over the world – Africa, South America. He – he – he’s a good guy. And what he said… I believe him.

DEAN: Great. So do I. But Friar Tuck over there, we don’t owe him anything. Sammy, he sucker-punched you.

SAM: And I get why. I mean, if-if somebody, uh, if somebody stole the Impala, what would you do?

DEAN: m*rder. I’d m*rder ‘em all.

SAM: Right. My point being, I… I don’t want a d*ck like Greenstreet or Scarpatti to win. Not this time.

DEAN: There’ll be t*rture first. There’ll be, like, a lot of t*rture, and then there’d – it would end up with death. If I can’t have it, nobody can.

SAM: Were you even listening to what I was saying? Scarpatti and Greenstreet? What did I say?

DEAN: Alright. It’s a party. The guy who jumped you – you remember anything about him?


FATHER LUCCA: No. I-I’m sorry.

DEAN: Okay, what about security cameras?

SAM: Nope. There aren’t any.

DEAN: Great. So we got nothing.

FATHER LUCCA: Wait. We got the number on the paper.

DEAN: The what?

FATHER LUCCA: SE-143382-IT99.

DEAN: Wow. That’s some memory. Okay, well, what is it? A combination? Coordinates, maybe?

SAM: No, no, no. It is, uh… it’s a tracking number… for a package sent from Valletta, Malta, five days ago.

FATHER LUCCA: Where is it now?

COURIER: Can I help you?

FAKE COP: You can say that.

DEAN: There he is.

SAM: That’s fake cop.

DEAN: Yes, it is.

FATHER LUCCA: Why did he bring the relic here?

DEAN: Don’t know. Don’t care. Alright, here’s the play – we head in there and we kick fake cop’s real ass.

SAM: Yeah. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Look at this.

DEAN: What the hell?

DEAN : Oh, look, it’s your girlfriend.

SAM: So much for simple.

MARGARET: Everything’s on schedule?

FAKE COP: Yes, ma’am, even with all the complications.

MARGARET: Complications are what I pay you for.

FAKE COP: Maybe we should talk about a raise.

MARGARET: No. We really shouldn’t. Mr. Scarpatti, thank you so much for coming.

SCARPATTI: What can I say? When somebody’s screwing me, I like to look into their eye.

MARGARET: No one’s screwing–

SCARPATTI: Really? If it wasn’t for me, that wouldn’t even be here. Alright? I already made a deal.

MARGARET: With a dead man.

SCARPATTI: Well, he wasn’t dead at the time.

MARGARET: Times change. Mr. Miele was the competition, so…

SCARPATTI: Yeah, so… you k*lled him?

MARGARET: I cornered the market.

SCARPATTI: Really? So I, uh, I suppose you don’t plan on, um, honoring his price.

MARGARET: Oh.

SCARPATTI: So what if I say no?

MARGARET: Oh, if you won’t pay, he will.

SCARPATTI: Who’s “he”?

SCARPATTI: Huh. You know the deal’s crap when we start drawing flies.

GREENSTREET: If that’s what you think, there is the door.

SCARPATTI: Yeah, well, fat chance.

MARGARET: Now then… shall we begin?

FATHER LUCCA: You’re worried.

DEAN: You’re not?

FATHER LUCCA: I… God will see us through.

DEAN: Yeah, he really won’t.

FATHER LUCCA: You’re not a believer.

DEAN: Oh, I believe. Hell, I know. God? He doesn’t give a damn about you or me or anyone else. So, if you’re expecting some sort of a-a miracle to happen, well… good luck.

FATHER LUCCA: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that God would reach down and protect us. Of course, that’s not going to happen. But I believe that all good things are God’s things. And what your brother’s doing, it’s a good thing.

DEAN: Yeah, or a stupid thing.

FATHER LUCCA: Or both. Many times, they can be the same.

SAM: Yeah, I got it. I got it. Just go easy.

SAM: Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it easy. Easy. I’m not here to fight.

FAKE COP: Then why are you here?

SAM: Just… may I?

SAM: I’m here to buy. So… let’s make a deal. Okay? It’s just business.

DEAN: He’s in. Let’s go.

MARGARET: Sam! So very, very good to see you again.

GREENSTREET: I’m sorry. I thought you were working for me.

SCARPATTI: And I thought you were working for me.

SAM: Right, yeah. Turns out I’m working for me.

GREENSTREET: I don’t trust him.

MARGARET: Oh, I don’t know. I’m quite fond of Sam. And besides, money’s money. Hmm?

FATHER LUCCA: Pardon me.

HENCHMAN: The hell are you doing here?

FATHER LUCCA: Creating a distraction.

DEAN: “Creating a distraction”?

FATHER LUCCA: Lying, it’s a sin.

FATHER LUCCA: Is he okay?

MARGARET: Alright. I wanna make this simple. I want each of you to think of your price, your very best price, and write it down on a piece of paper. The one with the most zeroes wins. Agreed?

SCARPATTI: Yeah, whatever.

SAM: What he said.

DEAN: Alright, that’s all of ‘em.

FATHER LUCCA: What now?

DEAN: You stay here and you stay down.

FATHER LUCCA: I’ll say a prayer.

DEAN: Yeah. You do that.

MARGARET: [to SAM] Good luck.

MARGARET: If you would.

FAKE COP: Sure. From Lurch [he points at SAM] over here, $634,000… and 2 cents.

SCARPATTI: 2 cents.

FAKE COP: [to SCARPATTI] from the boss, $3 million.

GREENSTREET: Yeah, well, you tried. That’s the most important part.

SCARPATTI: Really?

FAKE COP: [to GREENSTREET] and from Fats over there… nothing.

[FAKE COP holds up the paper which has a ‘0’ on it.]

SAM: What?

SCARPATTI: Nothing?

MARGARET: Is this a joke to you?

GREENSTREET: Oh no. I intend to buy the skull… just not from you. k*ll her.

SAM: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy.

GREENSTREET: Hand me the relic, and I will pay you $1 million cash right now.

MARGARET: Mr. Cromarty has been working for me for years, and I can assure you–

FAKE COP/MR. CROMARTY: Really should’ve talked about that raise.

SAM:

No![SAM sh**t FAKE COP/MR. CROMARTY and he falls to the floor. SAM and DEAN rush over to FATHER LUCCA.]

SAM: Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. You alright?

FATHER LUCCA: I think I got shot.

DEAN: Looks like he just grazed you. A few more inches to the left and, uh…

FATHER LUCCA: It’s a miracle.

GREENSTREET: I didn’t know this would happen. I… I’ll give you anything you want, huh?

DEAN: The blood, where is it?

GREENSTREET: It, uh… doesn’t exist.

SAM: You… what? Wait a second. You told us–

GREENSTREET: Exactly what you wanted to hear. It was just a bit of…

DEAN: Chicanery?

GREENSTREET: Exactly.

DEAN: Well… chicane this.

GREENSTREET: No, no, no, no. Wait. Don’t – you – you – you’ve made a mistake.

SAM: Are you sure you’re going to be okay?

FATHER LUCCA: I am. Grazie mille. Thank you for everything.

DEAN: You know it’s just a hunk of bone, right?

FATHER LUCCA: I do, but everyone, we all have faith in something, even if it’s just “a hunk of bone.”

SAM: By the way, I-I-I was reading about you. Um, what is, uh… Apostolic Protonotary Supernumery?

DEAN: A what now?

FATHER LUCCA: Oh. It-it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a title the Pope gives for good works.

DEAN: The Pope gave that to you? What – you met the Pope?

FATHER LUCCA: Yeah. He called me un uomo santissimo.

SAM: What does that mean?

FATHER LUCCA: “A most holy man.”

FATHER LUCCA: What?

DEAN: Before you go, we’re gonna need one more thing.

DEAN: Well, one down, three to go.

SAM: Yeah.

DEAN: What?

DEAN: Come on. I know that look. What’s on your mind?

SAM: I don’t know. Nothing. I mean – I mean, you know… You ever feel like we’re – we’re doing nothing but playing defense? You know, bouncing from one apocalypse to the next?

DEAN: Well, it’s not exactly our call.

SAM: I know that, and I’m not saying we don’t do good. But – but no matter how many people we save, there will always be more people that need saving. No matter how many monsters we k*ll–

DEAN: There’s always gonna be another one around the corner.

SAM: Exactly.

SAM: You think we could ever change things? I mean, really change things? You know, stop all the monsters, all the bad?

DEAN: That would be nice.

SAM: Yeah. So, what are you thinkin’? Think that’ll work?

DEAN: I have faith.