( THE VISION )

SLEEPY LODGE MOTEL
[ ☾]

"So, these dreams James is having–he thinks that they're real?" Dean asks. "He thinks that he is actually killing people?" 

"I think so. At least that's what I picked up before he started blocking me." Portia says.

"What does that mean, blocking you?" Sam asks.

"Familiars and their masters–we can communicate telepathically. I can get inside of James' head anytime I want. But he shut me out."

"So, what, you think maybe there's something in there he doesn't want you to see?" Sam asks.

"Possibly, yeah–something dark, you know, that's destroying him." Portia says. "He can't go to the police, and he doesn't trust other witches."

"But he trusts us? You do know who we are, right?" Dean asks. "We're the last people that somebody like James needs to be telling his troubles to."

"This was my idea. I was the one who sent you the text under James' name. He doesn't know you're here. But...I think you're maybe all he has.

CITY PARK
[ ☾]

A blind man is walking through the park on the sidewalk using his white cane. A man is standing off to the side in the grass . The blindman hears the person rustling around. "Someone there?" He asks. James is suddenly right next to him and he grabs the Blindman with one hand.

James is seen choking the man so hard that he tears through his skin and the Blindmans' blood splatters allover his' face. James wakes up in his bed again terrified and shaking.

JAMES' HOUSE
[ ☼ ]

James and Portia are having an argument in a room off camera. "You had no right to do this." He says.

"I was afraid for your life!" Portia yells. The camera pans around the living room and you see Dean sitting in a chair and Sam sitting on a couch and listening to the argument between James and Portia.

"My life is none of their business!"

Portia as a dog walks out of the room they are arguing in and looks at the brothers. Sam cocks his head and Dean smiles and waves casually. She walks off camera James walks out of the room looking disheveled and stops a couple feet from where Sam and Dean are sitting. Sam and Dean stand up.

"Sam, Dean." James says.

"Witchcraft, James? Really? What the hell are you thinking?" Dean asks.

"You come to help or pile on?"

"I'm just saying, you screw with that stuff, you're gonna fry your wiring." Dean says.

"All right. Look, why don't you tell us about these dreams?" Sam asks. "She said people were dying in them. James "Dying"? They were torn to bits. I, uh, I could feel my fingers ripping into their flesh."

"But they were dreams?" Dean asks.

"Well, I, uh, woke up in my bed."

"Okay, so...Dreams?" Sam asks.

"I'm not so sure." James says.

"Not helping, James."

"Those people–they died. I checked with the precinct." Says James.

"All right, well, maybe you heard it, and it stuck in your head." Sam says.

"You're–you don't think I-I told myself all that? You don't think I didn't say, "that wasn't me. I couldn't have done such a thing"? James steps back and reaches to a bag sitting to his left and unzips a pouch and pulls out the blood stained shirt he found in his trashcan after having the dream about killing the prostitute. Sam looks surprised and Dean has an "I told you so" look as James presents it to the brothers.

"Is it yours?" Sam asks as James shows the initials embroidered on the pocket that are JMF.

"James Martin Frampton." James tosses the shirt on the coffee table and sits down in a seat across from the seat Dean was sitting in and places his hand on his forehead. "What's happening to me?"

Dean and Sam sit back down. "Well, how about this? Um, you pissed off another witch, and he or she hexed you and forced you to..." Dean starts.

"It's possible, I suppose, but I never heard of it."

"How many of these dreams have you had?" Sam asks.

"Four. The most recent one is last night. Uh, it was a blind man. I, uh... I was choking him, and, uh..." James starts.

"All right, James, we're gonna–we're gonna help you figure this out, but you're gonna have to do your part." Dean says.

"Which is?" James asks.

Dean tosses a bag onto the table and it makes a loud clanging sound as he unzips the bag and pulls out thick chains and hold them up while looking at James. "You're gonna have to stay put." He lets the chains drop back into the bag. "House arrest, my friend."

SLEEPY LODGE MOTEL
[ ☼ ]

Sam is sitting on his bed doing research on his computer about the case. On his screen you see an article about the killed prostitute. The title of the article reads "GRISLY REMAINS FOUND" Dean walks in the hotel room holding a plain, small paper bag. "Got the last of it." He says.

"All right. Well, I have been looking at the crime-scene reports, and they are exactly the same as James told us–vics, dates, location." Sam says. "The most recent one was a blind man, just like he said."

"That's not good." Dean looks down at the table where you see a bunch of ingredients in jars set up and ready to be used. He begins to take out the ingredients from the bag he brought in which appear to be chicken feet and some black stuff in a bag.

"Also, I looked into his record on the force. He went from rookie detective to lieutenant basically overnight, and in the last four years, his solve rate's been right at about 100%." Sam says.

"Of course. He's got the booga-booga on his side." Dean looks down at the ingredients on the table. "Man, you know that we've never actually seen this witch-killing spell of Bobby's work, right? I mean, this is not a sure thing."

Sam chuckles. "Is anything we ever do a sure thing?" He asks.

"Well, no, but I would just like to have the odds in our favor as much as possible."

"Right?" Asks Sam.

"Well, I'm concerned."

"Concerned about the, uh–the witch-killing spell... ...or that I'm gonna mess these trials up?" He asks.

"Look, we get too far down the road with this, we can't go back," Dean says and Sam chuckles softly. "And it'll be too late for me to jump in."

"Who says that you're gonna have to? You know, maybe I'll actually pull this one off."

"I'm just saying." Dean says.

"I know what you're saying, Dean. You've said it. You know, I've been going over this and over this, asking myself "why doesn't he trust me?" Sam says. "And it occurred to me, finally. It's not that you don't trust me. It's that you can only trust you."

"Are you done?" Dean asks.

"Yeah, I'm done if you're done."

Dean walks back over to the table and picks up an empty bottle. "You know, once I get this put together, we can't hesitate. If we got to use it, we use it." He says.

"You mean if we find the witch that's doing this to James?" Sam asks.

"Or if there is no other witch." Dean says.

"Or... it wouldn't be the first free pass we've given, Dean." Sam says.

"Look, I like James as much as the next guy, but people are getting ganked here." Dean says. "Besides, Benny, Kate–they were forced to be what they are. James chose this."

EAST ST. LOUIS
POLICE DEPARTMENT
[ ☼ ]

Sam is walking through the police station with a man in a white coat. "Vics were all torn up pretty bad." Sam says.

"Like someone shredded them with their bare hands." The Man laughs. "Like that could happen. Ed? Ed Stoltz. He's lead on the case. Special Agent Keith."

"Josh here tells me you don't have a lot to go on." Sam says.

"Yeah. Isolated parts of the city, vics who meant nothing to nobody, so..." Ed starts.

"Right. Well, uh, my partner and I had a look at the crime scenes." Sam says.

"Things really must be slow at the Bureau." Ed laughs. "Locations have already been knocked down."

"Well, we did manage to find this piece of fabric. Things get overlooked. It happens." Sam says. "Why don't you run the blood? It could be the vic. It could be the doers. Let's see if we get a match." Sam hands the fabric to Ed and Ed hands the piece of fabric, which was taken from the shirt that James showed Dean and Sam, to Josh, the man in the white coat.

"A witness did mention seeing a man in a suit and a white shirt leaving the area, so–" Ed says.

"You didn't mention a witness in your report. Anything else?" Sam asks.

"No. We'll get back to you on the lab work. So if that's all –"

"Sure, but this witness–" Sam starts.

"That's all that was said, Agent Keith. We really don't have a lot here, okay? We'll be in touch." Es walks away from Sam. Sam does his usual half smile that means he isn't happy and walks off irritated.

WITCH NIGHTCLUB
[ ☼ ]

Dean and Portia walk down a long flight of steps to the club. "Am I getting the stink eye in here or what?" Dean asks.

"They can tell you're an outsider."

"Are they all witches?" Asks Dean.

"And stuff. But if there's information out here about James, they'll know." She says.

"How did James find you, anyway?" Dean asks.

"Not the way it works. The familiar finds the master, and they become inseparable."

"Guess a lot of people feel that way about their pets." Dean says and Portia turns sharply to look at him. "What?"

Portia scoffs. "I'm not James' pet." She says.

"Well, not all the time." Dean says.

Portia steps toward Dean and pushes him in the chest. "Not ever. The master and the familiar–there's an unbreakable bond, like a melding of souls. We would die for each other." She says.

"Portia." A Man snaps his fingers. "Over here." Portia and Dean walk over to the man who is sitting in a chair.

"Dean, meet Philippe LeChat. Dean's a wiccan from Detroit." Portia says.

"Really? Well...Sit, sit." Philippe points to the couch across from him and Dean and Portia sit at the same time next to each other.

"Spencer here?" Portia says.

"Somewhere."

Dean sneezes and clears his throat. "That's weird. That only happens around cats." He says. 

"Tell me about James. Lot of buzz out there."

"All gossip. The community has a little attitude going." Portia says.

Philippe chuckles. "He brings it on himself. The whole cop thing–witch cop–is he nuts?" He asks.

"I said the exact same thing." Dean says. 

"Then there's you, babe. It isn't done, Portia, and you know it."

"I'm sorry. Uh, remind me, what–what isn't done?" Dean asks.

Spencer walks up. "Portia." He looks at Dean so Dean feels the need to explain himself.

"Uh, I'm a–I'm a wiccan. I'm from Detroit."

"Spencer's the man to ask." Portia says.

"Oh, okay. Uh... You ever heard of a-a spell where a witch can control the actions of another witch?" Dean asks and sneezes.

"No, I never heard of a thing like that. I don't think it's possible." Spencer looks at Portia with concern. "How's James?"

"Better. I'll tell him you asked."

"Philippe, it's time we were going." Spencer says.

"Of course." Philippe looks at Portia. "Good night." He then looks at Dean mockingly as his eyes change to cat eyes and his face becomes catlike. "So nice to meet you." Dean nods as Philippe turns completely into a black cat, surprising Dean.

Philippe climbs up on a table that is next to the couch he was sitting on and his master Spencer holds out his hand while Philippe nuzzles it, purring. Spencer walks off camera with him.

"I knew it." Deans' cellphone rings. "Excuse me. Yeah."

Sam speaks into a cellphone at the hotel room. "Where are you?" He asks.

"Some witch bar. Why?" Dean asks.

"Listen, I just got the lab work back from the blood on James' shirt." Sam says.

"And?"

"Not good. Blood's an exact match to victim number three." Says Sam.

"Well, that pretty much says it all, doesn't it?" Dean asks.

"Yeah."

JAMES' BEDROOM
[ ☾]

Portia attaches shackles to James' right ankle. She then moves up and begins shackling his right wrist. As the camera pans up you see his left side is already shackled. "I hate doing this to you." She says.

"It's okay. Really." James says.

"We don't have to. You know, they won't find out."

"Portia... If I believe I'm innocent, I have to do the right thing." James says. "And if I'm not innocent, I have to do the right thing."

Portia lays on the bed next to James' and puts her head on his shoulder. "Tell me one day this will be over." She lifts her head up and smiles as she looks into his' eyes. "I love you."

Portia and James begin kissing and Portia moves over James and straddles him while they continue to kiss. The scene continues to show them kissing and Portia caressing James.

Suddenly Portia has a vision and in the vision. She sees everything James has been seeing in his dreams and she looks terrified when she sees the different people being murdered.

Later, Dean and Sam quietly break in the front door and walk into James' house. Dean walks in first. The brothers walk down the hallway that leads to the bedroom as Dean pulls out the concoction from Bobby's witch killing recipe that they put together at the hotel. It looks like a clear flask filled with blood and has a piece of cloth stuffed in the top of it for a cork.

They slowly open James' bedroom door and Dean walks inside first. James is laying on the bed with his eyes closed but his eyes open as Sam and Dean move closer to the bed. James does not become upset even though he seems to know what is about to happen.

Dean clicks his zippo and sets the flame. He brings the flame closer to the cloth sticking out of the bottle as Portia steps out of the bathroom located in the bedroom. "No! No, Dean! You have to listen to me, please. It's not James!" She yells.

"Wow." Dean chuckles. "I, uh–I didn't expect that."

"We have an unusual relationship. Familiars aren't supposed to be sexually involved with their witches." She says.

"Understandable, you know, considering that you're a... ...well, and that he's... That's –" Dean chuckles and looks to Sam. "Little help here?" Sam shakes his head no. "No?"

"James and I–we hadn't made love in weeks. His agony ate him up, and he shut me out." Portia says. "But tonight, I saw his thoughts–memories of the murders."

"I'm sorry, is this you trying to talk us out of ganking James or–" Dean starts.

"Dean, that's all I saw–just the kills. No preparation, no thought process, no anticipation, no motive. Just the kills without context."

"No other awareness of the crimes?" Sam asks.

"No. Doesn't that at least suggest he's under another's control?" Portia asks.

"Spencer said that wasn't possible." Dean says.

"He said he'd never heard of it. James is chained. He's confined. At least take a shot." Portia sighs.