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( THE CURIOUS CASE OF
DEAN WINCHESTER )

LIVING ROOM
[ ☼ ]

       A Woman, Mrs. Xavier, is reading the Weekly World News, headline: "LEADING PSYCHICS AGREE: THE APOCALYPSE IS HERE! Experts confirm the end is upon us!" She Chuckles. The door opens.

      "Hey, babe." She says. Mr. Xavier hurries upstairs without a word. "Nice to see you, too."

BATHROOM
[ ☼ ]

      Mr. Xavier rushes into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He turns on the water in the sink and leans forward, staring into the mirror. He is a young man, but ages rapidly, skin wrinkling, hair going gray and falling out, eyes going white-blind. He stumbles backward into a cabinet, smashing glass.

LIVING ROOM
[ ☼ ]

      Mrs. Xavier hears the crash and looks up. "Honey?" She says. Mr. Xavier collapses. Mrs. Xavier drops her magazine. "Are you okay?" She rushes upstairs. Mrs. Xavier opens the bathroom door, takes one look, and screams.




HOSPITAL[ ☼ ]

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HOSPITAL
[ ☼ ]

       Sam, Elena and Dean, in business attire, hold up CDC badges. "You expect me to believe you're CDC?" The Doctor asks. Dean looks at Sam.

       "Excuse me?" Sam asks.

       "It's just that you're a day early. First time in history I haven't sat on my ass waiting for you people." She says.

       "New administration. A change you can believe in." Says Dean.

       "Right."

MORGUE
[ ☼ ]

      The Doctor pulls the corpse of Mr. Xavier out of a freezer. He looks like a dead eighty-year-old. "Meet Xavier. Date of birth, April third, nineteen eighty-four." She says and exchanges glances with Dean, Elena and Sam. "I know. I ran the DNA twice. That's definitely him."

       "Well, he wasn't big on the sunscreen, huh?" Dean asks.

       "So, what's your theory?" Elena asks.

       "All I know is, decedent's male, twenty-five years old and he died of old age." The Doctor walks away. Sam and Dean glance at each other.

HOSPITAL CORRIDOR
[ ☼ ]

      Sam, Elena and Dean leave the morgue. Dean is on the phone. "You were right about this one. It's definitely a job." He says.

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