The Curse of Sight

51

[Clap Your Hands If You Believe...]

EXT. STREET

The four hunters were talking to a woman named Marion.

"Of course it's not UFO's," Marion said. "It's fairies."

"Fairies," Dean repeated. "Okay. Well, thank you for your input."

"What? Flying saucers not insane enough for you?" Sam asked.

Marion frowned. "What newspaper did you say you worked for?"

"Okay, if you want to add glitter to the glue you're sniffing, thats fine, but don't dump your whackadoo all over us. We'd rather not step in it."

"Okay, we're, we're done," Haven said said.

"The only thing you're missing is a couple dozen cats, sister."

Dean offered a small smile. "It's a blood sugar thing. Our apologies."

As they walked away, Sam questioned, "What?"

"What? You gotta ask? Right, yes, you do have to ask."

"Look, I'm sorry, but this is all a big joke, right, and we're not actually taking this UFO crap seriously?"

"No, man. ET is made of rubber. Everybody knows that. But there are four legitimate vanishings in this town. Something's going on. And Sam? By the way, it's not the lady's fault that she took the brown acid."

"Yeah! So?"

"Empathy, man," Sitka said. "Empathy. I mean, old Sam would've given her some, some wussified dew-eyed crap."

"Old Sam had a soul -- was a soul. Whatever."

"Right! Yeah, and, but you don't -- aren't. Whatever."

"Right."

"Right. You don't care," Dean stated.

"Well-"

"You have to care!"

"About what exactly?"

"About everything, man! About being human at least."

"Look, Dean. You, Haven and Sitka obviously care. A lot. And that's great. But I can't care about what -- I can't care about it, you know? What do you two want me to do, fake it?"

"Yes," Haven replied. "Absolutely. Fake it. You gotta fake it till you make it."

"What happened to you three wanting me to be all honest?"

"Hey, you wanna be a real boy, Pinocchio, you gotta act the part," Dean told him.

"I was faking it, Dean, Haven, Sitka! Ever since we got back on the road together, I was picking every freaking word. It's exhausting."

"Okay. All right. But until we get you back on the soul train, we'll be your conscience, okay?"

"So you're saying you'll each be my... Jiminy Cricket. And one of my consciences is a chick."

Haven narrowed her eyes. "Watch it. But yeah, you gigantic puppet. That's exactly what he's saying." She frowned, seeing an odd room of sorts.

BRENNAN'S WATCHWORKS

"Mr. Brennan?" Dean and Haven called.

"Mmm?" Mr. Brennan hummed.

"We're with The Mirror," Sam said. "We would like to ask you-"

"What? Is this about Patrick? Patrick's gone."

"Missing," Dean noted. "Right. Yes, that's what we want to talk to you about."