( THE TRICKSTER )

DINER
[ ☼ ]

Dean is eating and Sam is on the laptop; behind them the Man with the pancakes is reading a newspaper. A thing of pink syrup is visible next to his plate. "So the police report says Dexter Hasselback is a professor, but that's not all he is." Sam says.

"What is he?" Dean asks.

"I talked to his daughter. Guy's quite the journalist. Columns in magazines, a blog." Sam says and The Man leaves. "He writes about tourist attractions. Mystery spots, UFO crash sites-he gets his kicks debunking them. I mean, he's already put four of these places out of business. Here." Sam turns the laptop to face Dean.

Onscreen is the biography of the author of the blog "The Hasselback Report" with a picture of Hasselback and a headline Dean reads aloud. "Dexter Hasselback, truth warrior? More like a pompous schmuck, you ask me." He says.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I mean, I've read everything the guy's ever written, and he must have weighed a ton, he was so full of himself." Sam says.

"When'd you have time to do all this research?" Dean asks.

"Come on." Sam packs up the laptop. They get up. Dean laughs. "What?"

"I just, it's just funny, you know, I mean, this guy spends his whole life crapping on Mystery Spots and then he vanishes into one. It's kinda poetic, you know, just desserts." Dean says.

"You're right, that is just desserts." Sam notices the Man's abandoned plate; it has a partial pancake and pink syrup.

"What's wrong?" Elena asks.

Sam watches the Man walk by the diner windows. "Guy has maple syrup for the last hundred Tuesdays, all of a sudden he's having strawberry?" He asks.

"It's a free country. Man can't choose his own syrup, huh? What have we become?" Dean asks.

"Not in this diner. Not today. Nothing in this place ever changes. Ever. Except us."

Closeup of Sam's closed eyes.

Heat of the moment...

Sam's eyes open.Sam sits up in bed and stares around.

Telling you what your heart is...

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean is sitting on the other bed, tying his shoes. Sam looks around.

The heat of the moment Showed in your eyes...

DINER
[ ☼ ]

The Man is eating pancakes with maple syrup. Behind him, Dean is eating and Sam is watching the Man. "So you think you're caught in some kind of what, again?" Dean asks.

"Eat your breakfast." Elena says.

The Man leaves and Sam follows. "What's in the bag?" Dean and Elena follow Sam.

STREET
[ ☼ ]

The Man walks down the street. Sam grabs him, slams him into the fence, and puts the tip of a wooden stake at his throat. "Hey!" The Man yells.

"I know who you are. Or should I say, what." Sam says.

"Oh my god, please don't kill me."

"Uh, Sam?" Dean says.

"It took me a hell of a long time but I got it." Sam says.

"What?" The Man asks.

"It's your MO that gave you away. Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just desserts-your kind loves that, don't they?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, sure, okay." The Man glances nervously at the stake. "Just put the stake down!"

"Sam, maybe you should-" Dean starts.

"No! There's only one creature powerful enough to do what you're doing." Sam says. "Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops-in fact you'd pretty much have to be a god. You'd have to be a Trickster."

"Mister, my name is Ed Coleman, my wife's name is Amelia, I got two kids, for crying out loud I sell ad space-"

"Don't lie to me! I know what you are! We've killed one of your kind before!" Sam says.

The Man's face contorts to one of the Trickster. "Actually, bucko, you didn't." He says.

"Why are you doing this?" Elena asks.

"You're joking, right? You Chuckleheads tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn't I do this?" The Trickster asks.

"And Hasselback, what about him?" Dean asks.

"That putz? He said he didn't believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one." The Trickster laughs. "Then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town."

"So this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over again?" Sam asks.

"One, yes. It is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on you, Sam. Watching your brother die, every day? Forever?"

"You son of a bitch." Sam says.

"How long will it take you to realize? You can't save your brother. No matter what."

"Oh yeah? I kill you, this all ends now." Sam says.

The Trickster holds his hands up in surrender. "Oh-oh, hey, whoa! Okay. Look. I was just playing around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and it'll be Wednesday. I swear." He says.

"You're lying." Elena says.

"If I am, you know where to find me. Having pancakes at the diner." He says.

Sam looks at Elena and Dean, then back at the Trickster. "No. Easier to just kill you." Sam says.

"Sorry, kiddo. Can't have that." The Trickster snaps his fingers. Closeup of Sam's closed eyes.

Promise me I'll be back in time...

Sam's eyes snap open. Elena sits up in the bed as Sam does the same. 

Gotta get back in time...

"What, you gonna sleep all day?" Dean is standing by the bathroom sink.

"No Asia." Sam says.

"Yeah, I know. This station sucks." Dean says.

On a roll of the dice...

Sam stares at the clock radio. It says WED. Sam gasps. "It's Wednesday!" He yells.

"Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that thing off, will you?" Dean asks.

Sam grins. "What, are you kidding me? This isn't the most beautiful song you've ever heard?" He asks.

"No. How many Tuesdays did you have?" Dean asks. Sam throws a long-sleeved shirt over his T-shirt.

"I don't know. I lost count. Hey, wait. What do you remember?" Sam asks.

"I remember you were pretty whacked out of it yesterday and then I remember running into the Trickster." Dean says. "But no, that's about it."

"All right. Pack your stuff, let's get the hell out of town. Now." Elena says.

"No breakfast?" Dean asks.

"No breakfast." Sam says.

PARKING LOT
[ ☼ ]

Dean pulls a shotgun out of the secret compartment, puts it in a duffel bag, closes the compartment, puts the bag in the trunk, and closes the trunk. He hears someone behind him. "You sure we should just let the Trickster go?" Dean turns to face the person; it's Cal, not Sam.

Cal is pointing a handgun at Dean. "Gimme your wallet." He says.

"Whoa whoa whoa, buddy, just relax." Dean says.

"I am relaxed!" Cal is not relaxed.

"Okay, all right, nobody wants this to end the wrong way, let's talk about it a sec." Dean says.

In the hotel room, Sam and Elena are packing. Sam's head snaps around when he hears a gunshot. "Dean!" Sam yells.

STREET
[ ☼ ]

Cal runs around the corner. Sam hurries down the motel exterior stairs. Dean is on his side on the asphalt, blood on his shirt. Sam runs to him.

"No, no, no no no, hey, hey, come on, not today, not today, this isn't supposed to happen today, come on-" Sam realizes Dean isn't moving. He closes his eyes and waits. Nothing happens. He opens his eyes. Dean is still dead. "I'm supposed to wake up."

SIX MONTHS LATER

ROAD
[ ☾]

A car, probably the Impala, drives across the screen. Sam is at the wheel. Elena is nowhere in sight. Throughout this montage, he barely has any expression. The sound of a phone ringing.

"It's Sam. Leave me a message." Beep.

While Bobby speaks, flashes of Sam shining a flashlight around, the outside of a building, Sam firing a gun.

"Sam? It's Bobby. Heard about that demon thing you took care of in Death Valley. Nice job. Been about three months we talked, though. Be nice to hear your voice. Give a call. I'm here." Beep.

HOTEL ROOM
[ ☾]

Sam opens the room door. He pulls off his overshirt; his T-shirt is bloodsoaked. He cuts up through the bloodstain to reveal a bleeding wound. He pours hydrogen peroxide on it and goes into the hole with a pair of something resembling tweezers, with which he pulls out a bullet. He stitches the wound.

"Hi Sam, it's me." Elena's voice says on the answering machine. "I know it's been tough since Dean died, but I just wanted to give you some good news. Damon and I are getting married, so-" Sam changes to the next voicemail.

"Sam? Bobby again. Look, I'm worried about you." Sam cleans a gun, facing a wall of maps and newspaper clippings and security-camera stills featuring the Trickster, arranged in neat lines with none overlapping. "Just tell me you're not sitting alone somewhere obsessing over this damn Trickster. Call me, Sam. We can find it together. No one man should take something like this on alone. You hear me? By the way, that vampire nest in Austin, hell of a job."

Closeup of Sam's eyes. He sits up stiffly and makes the bed with military precision. He goes into the bathroom and brushes his teeth. "Sam? It's Bobby. I found him."

MYSTERY SPOT
[ ☾]

Bobby is kneeling on the floor turning the pages of a book, which is dead center of a chalked diagram with three candles and three bowls of unidentified substances. Sam enters the room behind him.

Bobby stands. "It's good to see you, boy." He hugs Sam, who doesn't respond. Bobby pulls back.

"What are we doing here, Bobby?" Sam asks.

"Well, it's the last place we're sure the Trickster worked his magic." Bobby says.

"So?"

"So you want this thing? I found a summoning ritual to bring the Trickster here." Bobby says.

"What do we need?" Sam asks.

"Blood."

"How much blood?" Asks Sam.

"Ritual says near a gallon. And it's gotta be fresh, too." Bobby says.

"Meaning we have to bleed a person dry."

"And it's gotta be tonight. Or not for another fifty years." Says Bobby.

"Then let's go get some." Sam turns to leave. Bobby doesn't move. Sam notices and turns back.

"You break my heart, kid."

"What?" Sam asks.

"I'm not gonna let you murder an innocent man."

"Then why'd you bring me here?" Sam asks.

"Why? Because it was the only way you'd see me! Because I'm trying to knock some sense into you! Because I thought you'd back down from killing a man!" Bobby yells.

"Well, you thought wrong. Leave the stuff, I'll do it myself."

"I told you, I'm not gonna let you kill a man." Bobby says.

"It's none of your damn business what I do!" Sam yells.

"You want your brother back so bad?" Bobby leans down and pulls a knife out of his bag. He holds it up to Sam. "Fine."

Sam eyes the knife. "What are you talking about?" He asks.

"Better me than a civilian." Bobby holds the knife out to Sam.

"You're crazy, Bobby. I'm not killing you." Sam says.

"Oh, now I'm the crazy one. Look, Sam, I'm old, I'm coming near the end of my trail. But you can keep fighting. Saving folk. But you need your brother. Let me get him back to you." Bobby says.

"Bobby-" Sam starts.

"You and Dean, you boys are the closest thing I have to family. I wanna do this."

Sam takes the knife. "Okay." He says.

"Good." Bobby turns around and goes to his knees. "Just make it quick." Sam waits. "Do it, son."

"Yeah, okay, Bobby." Sam pulls a stake out of his shirt. "But you wanna know why?" Sam grabs Bobby around the throat and shoves the stake through his back. The tip comes out Bobby's chest. "Because you're not Bobby." Sam twists the stake. Blood spurts out of the wound. Bobby goes still and falls forward.

Sam lets go of him, then stares at Bobby's corpse. Nothing happens. "Bobby? Bobby! Bobby!" Sam yells. Bobby's corpse vanishes. The stake falls over, then shoots over Sam's shoulder into the hand of the Trickster. Sam turns to face him.

"You're right. I was just screwing with you. Pretty good, though, Sam. Smart. Let me tell you, whoever said Dean was the dysfunctional one has never seen you with a sharp object in your hands. Holy Full Metal Jacket." The Trickster says.

"Bring him back." Sam says.

"Who, Dean? Didn't my girl send you flowers? Dean's dead. He ain't coming back. His soul's downstairs doing the hellfire rumba as we speak."

"Just take us back to that Tuesday-er, Wednesday-when it all started. Please. We won't come after you, I swear." Sam says.

"You swear." The Trickster says.

"Yes."

"I don't know. Even if I could-" Trickster says.

"You can." Sam says.

"True. But that don't mean I should. Sam, there's a lesson here that I've been trying to drill into that freakish Cro-Magnon skull of yours."

"Lesson? What lesson?" Sam asks.

"This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it. Just blood and pain. Dean's your weakness." The Trickster says.
"And the bad guys know it, too. It's gonna be the death of you, Sam. Sometimes you just gotta let people go."

"He's my brother." Sam says.

"Yup. And like it or not, this is what life's gonna be like without him."

"Please. Just-please." Sam says.

"I swear, it's like talking to a brick wall. Okay, look. This all stopped being fun months ago. You're Travis Bickle in a skirt, pal. I'm over it." The Trickster says.

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that's for me to know and you to find out." The Trickster snaps his fingers. Closeup of Sam's closed eyes.

Promise me I'll be back in time...

Sam's eyes snap open. He sits up in bed and stares around.

Gotta get back in time...

"What, you gonna sleep all day?" Dean is standing by the bathroom sink brushing his teeth. "I know, no Asia. This station sucks."

On a roll of the dice...

Sam checks the clock radio. It says WED. "It's Wednesday." He says.

"Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that thing off." Dean says. Elena also gets out of bed. Sam throws off the covers and goes to pull Dean into a hug. "Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?"

"Enough. What, uh, what do you remember?" Sam asks.

"I remember you were pretty whacked out of it yesterday. I remember getting up with the Trickster. That's about it." Dean says.

Sam nods. "Let's go." He says.

"No breakfast?"

"No breakfast."

"All right, I'll pack the car."

"Wait, you're not going anywhere alone." Sam says.

"It's the parking lot, Sam." Elena says.

"Just-just trust me." Sam, dressed, zips closed a bag. Dean opens the door, then turns back.

"Hey, you don't look so good. Something else happen?" Dean asks and Sam says nothing for a moment.

"I just had a really weird dream." Sam says.

Dean nods. "Clowns or midgets?" He asks. Sam looks up. Dean grins. Sam tries to smile. He picks up his bag. Dean leaves. Sam follows, stopping at the door to look back at the unmade bed. Sam turns off the light and closes the door.