( BAD MOON RISING )

CAFE
[ ☾]

Dean clicks on "Corporate Contact" on the Bicklebee Realty web page. A message pops up reading "We're sorry, the site you are trying to access has been blocked."

"Son of a bitch." Dean makes a call to Frank. The scene alternates between the café and Frank's trailer.

Frank is eating from a can. "This better be good." He says.

"Frank, hey, I don't mean to double-dip in your crazy sauce. No offense." Dean says.

"None taken, fudge pop." Frank says.

"But I think I found something." Dean says.

"My silence is your cue, Dean."

"All right, so, there's this new company that's buying up a whole bunch of, uh, mom-'n'-pops in Portland, but I hit a firewall when I tried to access its site. Think you can crack it?" Dean asks.

"Can a dog play poker?" Frank asks.

"I don't..."

"The answer is yes. What's the company name?" Asks Frank.

"Uh, Geothrive, Inc." Dean says.

On the laptop screen above the firewall message is the company logo, which reads: "Geothrive Inc. Innovative Technology for the Future."

ROAD
[ ☾]

Sam is driving while clearly very sleepy. He almost overshoots a bend, blinks several times, then nods off. A large truck is coming towards him and the driver honks the horn. Sam nearly collides with the truck before he wakes and veers sharply to the side.

"Sam!" Elena yells.

COFFEE STAND
[ ☾]

The Barista puts two pumps of something into a coffee cup. "Wait! I said one pump sugar-free, not two." George says.

"Extra pump's on the house."

"That's very nice, but my boss is gonna be able to tell, okay, so please just make me a new one." Says George.

"There's people in line, and I'm here all alone, so... enjoy the free pump." The Barista says.

"How 'bout make me a new one?"

"How 'bout you eat me?" Says Te Barista.

"Don't tempt me. You're lucky I'm late." George says.

"So lucky. Next."

"Can I get a, uh, a-a triple red-eye, please?" Sam asks.

"It's your funeral." The Barista says. George turns and looks at Sam, then hurries away.

STREET OUTSIDE
ANTIQUE STORE
[ ☾]

Sam gets out of the pick-up truck, which is parked outside the antique store. Scott comes to the door of the store. "What are you talking about, George? Where's my coffee?" Joyce asks.

George is watching from across the street. The scene alternates between the street and Bicklebee Realty. "I am seriously not kidding." He says.

"And you're sure it's him?" Asks Joyce.

"Of course I'm sure. Sam Winchester and Elena Gilbert are going into that antique shop we just bought." George says. Sam and Elena walk into the store, carrying a wooden box.

"Y-you think they're here for us?" George says.

"No. Trust me. If the Winchesters were here for us, we'd know."

"I am going to enjoy this." George says.

"Enjoy? Enjoy what, George?"

"Well... eating him is pretty much what I was thinking." George says.

"What?! No!" Joyce hangs up.

"No?" George asks.

"Come back to the office. Now."

BICKLEBEE REALTY
[ ☾]

"We have a chain of command here, George. You see a Winchester, you don't eat him. You tell me, and I eat him." Joyce says. "What do you think, I'm gonna tell Dick, "I think he ate him, but I didn't see it"? What, I'm supposed to vouch for you, George? Like you're not one dumb move away from a bibbing already? Come on."

"But I—"

"Oh, no!" Joyce yells.

"But—" George says.

"No!" Joyce holds up her hand to forestall any further protests and makes little hand motions while soundlessly saying "No, no, no, no, no, no." George starts to speak, but Joyce cuts him off. "Hoo!" She takes the coffee from George and takes a sip. "Ohh! Two pumps. Really, George?"

CAFE
[ ☾]

Dean is looking at a pie in display container while talking on the phone. The scene alternates between the café and Frank's trailer, where Frank is sitting in front of his computers. "Frank, tell me you got something." Dean says.

"No, I'm calling with the Lakers-Celtics score." Frank says.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Course I got something. I figured out why you hit that firewall."

Dean walks back to his table. "My silence is your cue, Frank." He says.

"Oh, touché. So, you were trying to access the Geothrive internal site, and the reason why you couldn't is 'cause, if you dig down deep, it's all Dick." Frank says.

"Yeah, well, that'd be helpful if you didn't say that about everything."

There is a picture of Dick Roman on Frank's computer screen. "Yeah, except I'm operating on hard fact now, wise-ass." He says.

"So you're tellin' me that Geothrive is part of Roman, Inc.?" Asks Dean.

"It's a conglomerate within a subsidiary within a conglomerate. It's all tied together, Dean."

"So, what, Leviathans are—are Walmart-ing mom-'n'-pops?" Dean asks.

"And bingo was his name-o. Ahh!" Frank yells.

"So, we've got a big ol' field in Wisconsin and a bunch of friggin' shops in Portland?" Dean asks. "What the hell are they up to?" Sam pulls up and parks outside the café.

"Beats me. All I know is it's corporate and smelly as the day is long. If I were you, I'd get out of Dodge, pronto." Frank says.

"People are dying here, Frank." Dean says.

"Sure, every second. Check the obesity stats. That town ain't nothin' special." Frank says.

"Well, we're not done here, okay, and, hey, we might get some answers." Dean says.

"Fine. Call me if you don't die."

Sam joins Dean at the table. "So?" He asks.

"Well, that'll work." Dean says.

"Um, how's it going?" Sam asks.

"I just got off the phone with Frank. Apparently, we have a bit of a Leviathan issue in this town." Dean says.

"Leviathans, here?" Asks Elena.

"Yeah. We're lookin' at a big, old giant nesting doll of Dick, as far as property sales go." Dean says and Sam looks away and sighs. "Hey, you hearing me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm sorry." Sam says.

"Okay, you know what? Enough with the insomnia crap. All right, Pacino?" Dean asks. "You need to crash. I'll keep working. You find a motel and get some sleep. Okay?"

"It doesn't matter what I do, Dean. Lucifer will not shut up." Sam says.

"Even now?" Dean asks.

"He's singing "Stairway to Heaven" right now." Sam says.

"Good song." Dean says.

"Not 50 times in a row." Sam says.

"Hmm."

Sam's phone rings. "Hey, Scott." He says. The scene alternates between the café and the antique store.

"Please, Sam. Y-you got to help me." Scott says.

"What's happening?" Sam asks.

"I looked in one of my mom's old mirrors, and now I want to rip my face off! I think it was cursed." Scott says.

"All right, hold tight. Uh, we're on our way." Sam says.

"Let me guess. He touched something he was not supposed to." Dean puts some bills down on the table.

"Course he did." Sam says.

"Uh."

ANTIQUE STORE
[ ☾]

"Was, uh... was that okay?" Scott asks. Joyce and George are in the store, standing with their arms crossed.

"Well, not exactly Oscar-worthy, but... I was convinced. Not that it matters, because you don't have any more lines." Joyce takes off her scarf and stuffs it into Scott's mouth.

"Now what?" George asks.

"Now we wait for meal service."

Scott is taped to a chair. George tapes his mouth shut. "So... one more body we're gonna have to spirit away, huh?" George asks.

"Actually, no. As you so helpfully pointed out earlier, Dick doesn't like making the papers." Joyce says.

"Right, so what's the plan?"

"Well, we can't have Scott here running his mouth. Loose lips, yada, yada, yada. We will kill him." Joyce says and Scott makes a noise. "But that doesn't mean anyone ever has to notice he's dead. Pack your bags, Georgie. You are turning into one Scott Freeman..." She crouches down next to Scott and strokes his cheek. "...for the next, oh, 30-some-odd years. Right, Scotty?"

Sam, Elena and Dean pull up outside the store in the pick-up, with the U-Haul attached. Sam is driving. They hurry inside. "So much for the cursed mirror." Dean says.

"Sam, Elena and Dean. It is such a pleasure to make your acquaintances." Joyce says. "Now, just so you can put names to the faces that'll be eating you, I'm Joyce, and this is my assistant, George."

"Oh, you're the – you're the lady from the real-estate signs." Dean says.

"Yes. You like my photo?" Joyce asks.

"Oh, you might want to lay off the whitening strips." Dean says.

"Oh, Dean. I am gonna enjoy picking you out of my teeth." Joyce's face transforms. She grabs Dean and throws him into a glass cabinet. George throws Sam over a desk and then Elena. Sam punches George and Dean hits Joyce with an urn. George grabs Sam around the throat.

"There's a bucket of that stuff that you love throwing at us right there. Dunk me, before she sees." Joyce throws Dean onto a table, which breaks. Sam dunks George's head in the bucket. Joyce looks disgusted.

George lifts his head. His face is burning. "The sword." He says and Joyce throws Dean through some glass doors. "The sword!" Sam breaks a display cabinet holding a sword.

As Joyce is advancing on Dean, Sam uses the sword to cut off her head. "Uh. Thanks." Dean puts Joyce's head in a bag and puts the bag in the safe.

"Okay, I get that these things mean business, you know, but I can't just, like, uproot my life." Scott says.

"Sure you can. It's not as hard as you think." Dean says.

"Look, Scott. These big mouths don't like to leave loose ends." Sam says.

"So don't you look back till you get someplace where you don't speak the language." Dean says.

"All right. I'm going. Thank you, I guess." Scott says.

"Don't mention it." Sam says. "One minute. That's how long you have to explain to us why you helped us."

"Because I am dying to know what that bitch tastes like." George says.

"Wait, let me get this straight. You want to eat your boss?" Dean asks.

"You got a better way to make her stay dead?" George asks.

"So, what? So now you're – you're on our side or something?" Sam asks.

"Yeah. No. But if Joyce is alive, then I spend the rest of my life cleaning her messes. Or worse, I get eaten. Or bibbed. So, thanks... for chopping her head off for me. Taking her on solo – yikes. So, really, thanks for the assist there. And, of course..." George turns to Dean. "...you're welcome... for saving you... before she ripped into your ass like a Christmas present. Win-win, right? So how 'bout that head?"

"Yeah, not gonna happen, Georgie." Dean says as Sam holds the sword to George's throat. "Now... what the hell is Dick Roman building in Wisconsin?"

"I don't know. I barely know where Wisconsin is. I'm a West-Coast representative."

"You gonna keep killing people who don't sign on the dotted line?" Elena asks.

"All right, take it easy." George touches the sword and tastes the blood it leaves on his finger. "Mmm. Killing people isn't part of the agenda. Joyce just kept getting impatient. You – you got nothing to worry about with me. Don't you get it? You guys are freaking out about the wrong thing."

"Oh, you think?" Dean asks.

"A couple of real-estate deals? Come on. Big picture, guys. You – you think it's just here? It's everywhere." George says. "And it's a lot more ambitious than this little project. My advice – keep your heads down and stay down."

"Listen to me, you gooey son of a bitch. You're gonna tell us what you're building here, or I'm gonna wash your mouth out with soap." Dean says.

"Hmm. I was hoping we could play nice. But if you must know... it's going to be a research center."

"Research for what?" Asks Dean.

"Disease. This, gentlemen, is where we are going to cure cancer." George says.

"Wait. That doesn't make any sense. I mean, why would Dick Roman want to cure cancer?" Elena asks.

"'Cause we're only here to help."

Dean closes the door of the U-Haul, which contains the safe. "Monsters cure cancer. A sentence I never thought I'd say. Why does it make me so nervous?" He asks.

"Yeah, I hear you. So, what do we do now?" Sam asks.

"You are gonna sleep on it – all the way to Frank's. Capiche?" Asks Dean.

"I wish I could." Sam says.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Elena asks.

"Yeah. Yeah. A little. I-I don't know." Sam says.

"Well, we'll find you a soft-rock station. Always knocks you right out." Dean says. Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Bad Moon Rising" plays. They get into the pick-up and drive away. ♪ I see a bad moon rising

WOODS
[ ☾]

They pull up outside Frank's trailer and get out. "Hey, Frank!"!Dean pounds on the door. "Devereaux! What the hell is he doing in there?" Dean knocks on the door again. "Frank! Don't shoot! We're coming in!"

FRANK'S TRAILER
[ ☾]

There is bloody, broken glass on the floor. The trailer has been trashed and there is blood on the walls and the computer screens, one of which still displays Dick Roman's picture. "Not good." Dean says.