Don't You Cry » Supernatural [7] | ✓

24

( ELIXIR )

BECKY'S APARTMENT BUILDING
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      Dean rings the doorbell. He is standing next to Elena and holding a box containing a waffle iron. The box is unwrapped but is tied with a red ribbon. Sam opens the door. "Us being supportive. Congratulations to you and the missus." Dean says.

      "Thanks." Sam says.

      "It's a waffle iron. Nonstick. Yeah, you just, uh..." Dean mimes closing the waffle iron and turning a dial. "I actually don't know how to use it. Are we good?" Sam shrugs and smiles briefly. "Good, 'cause I'm sniffing a case in this town. The score is... Guy wins Powerball, gets squished by a truck. Second guy went from the bench to the Majors. Oh, and one week later, his face was the catcher's mitt, huh?"

      "Our first thought was crossroads demons, but there's that 10-year time frame on collecting souls." Becky says from another room.

      Sam leads the way into the bedroom, where Becky is standing in front of a wall headed "Sam and Becky's Investigation." Below the sign is their research.

       "Then there's cursed object, like in "Bad Day at Black Rock," but we haven't been able to connect the vics yet." Becky says.

       "You're working this case... together?" Dean asks.

       "Yeah. I know. Right? I mean, I guess all those Chuck Shurley books paid off." Sam says.

       "All right, listen, Cookie, I don't know what kind of mojo you're working, but, believe me, I will find out."

      "Dean, that's...my wife you're talking to." Sam says.

      "You're not even acting like yourself, Sam!" Dean yells.

      "How am I not?"

      "You married Becky Rosen!" Yells Dean and Elena puts a hand on his chest.

       "What are you saying? I'm a witch? Or maybe I'm a siren. Ever occur to you we're just—I don't know—happy?" Becky says.

       "Come on, Sam! Guy wins the lotto, guy hits the bigs. All right, obviously, uh, people's dreams are coming true in this town." Dean says. "Don't you think this is a little bit of a coincidence?"

       "You know what, Dean? What Becky and I have is real. And if you can't accept that, that's your problem, not ours." Sam says.

        "Or maybe she's part of it. Because for whatever reason, you're her dream. If you really do care about her, I'd be worried." Dean says. "Because people who do get their little fantasies or whatever seem to end up dead pretty quick."

       "You know, I went after her, Dean. Maybe that's what's bugging you—that I'm moving on with my life." Sam says. "I mean, you took care of me, and that's great. But I don't need you anymore." Dean leaves the apartment.

        Dean is walking towards the Dodge. "I don't want another hunter, Bobby. Why can't you do it?" Dean and Elena get into the car. "Ugh! Fine. What's his name?"

       Becky is sitting on the edge of the bed and drawing a love heart in a journal in which "Sam loves Becky" has been written over and over. She raises the journal to her face and inhales deeply. This leaves red ink on her nose.

       "Hey. Uh..." Sam says and Becky closes the journal and stands up. Sam is leaning against the doorway holding a newspaper. He walks over to Becky, wets his thumb and rubs the ink off her nose. "I got you a present."