All language subtitles for Supernatural.S09E16.1080p.Bluray.x265-HiQVE_movieddl.me

Henry Winchester.

- That's our grandfather.
- You're Men of Letters, correct?

Our father taught us
how to be hunters.

You're legacies.

Preceptors, beholders,

chroniclers of all that which
man does not understand.

Larry Ganem and Albert Magnus.
All deceased.

Albertus Magnus.

His was the alias we'd use
when going incognito.

Here's the deal.

You're gonna tell us
how to hack an angel,

and I'm gonna give you
some human blood.

Word is you're jonesing for it.

The Knights of Hell
aren't exactly the dying kind.

But there is something
that can kill a knight.

The First Blade.

It's the bloody Mark of Cain.

Without the Mark,
the Blade is useless.

The Mark can be transferred
to someone who's worthy.

But you have to know,
with the Mark comes a great burden.

So, where is the Blade?

I threw it to the bottom
of the deepest ocean.

You can't search the bottom
of the ocean, but I can.

So, I'll find it and
bring it to its new owner.

(LINE RINGING)

Come on, Crowley.
Pick up!

Where the hell is he?
It's not like he's got a social life.

Are you actually worried?

CROWLEY (VOICEMAIL):
Too busy inflicting pain to answer.

Leave a message.

Guy's got one job.

Find the First Blade, bring it back.

- How hard is that?
- It's Crowley.

He's not exactly a team player.

Yeah, but his ass is on the line, too.

He goes missing for weeks
on end without a peep?

Well, not one
that makes sense, anyway.

Listen to this.

CROWLEY (RECORDING): Dean, um...

(MUTTERING GIBBERISH)

Wait a second.

Did he...
Drunk-dial you?

Come on.

(RINGING)

(MAN, WOMAN PANTING)

Lola?

My King?

My apres-consummation treat.

On it, sire.

(MUFFLED GROAN)

(GROANING IN PAIN)

(QUIET EXHALE)

Pantry's almost empty.

We'll need another volunteer.

You should add that
to your "to do" list.

(GROANING)

(EXHALES)

Lola, pet?

I do believe I'm ravenous.

WOMAN, ON TV: And a weakling.

No.

Richard, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, but...
You are our last hope.

- If you don't help us...
- (SNIFFLING)

...Victor Laszlo
will die in Casablanca.

MAN (ON TV): What of it?
I'm gonna die in Casablanca.

It's a good spot for it.

Now, if you...

My name is Aldo.

My intel is for Abaddon...

Minion.

And she appreciates
the work you've been doing.

(SCOFFS) At great peril.

But she is tied up securing her place

as new leader of the kingdom.

She assures you that
all relevant information

can be conveyed to me.

So, update?

The King is off his game.

Except for sex, pizza,

and human blood,
he has no interests.

He can't function without me.

- Well played.
- I should mention

he keeps getting phone calls
from those Winchesters.

They leave voicemails for him.

Saying?

Mostly, they're rude.

One mentioned something
called the First Blade.

Interesting.

Follow how this develops
and report in.

Oh, I will.

And when I do,

I expect to report directly
to the next Queen of Hell.

Capiche?

(SPRAY PAINT CAN HISSING)

All right, do it.

Daemon...
(SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

Winchesters.

Is that...

Well, that explains a lot.

Okay.
Look, Snooki.

Can I call you "Snooki"?

No.
It's Nicole now.

Okay, then.
Nicole.

We can do this one of two ways.

The easy way.
You talk.

Or...
The easier way.

- You still talk.
- I vote for number two.

We just want some basic
information on Crowley. That's it.

Google him.
Are we done?

Whoa! Not the face!
Are you crazy?

Listen, guys, what happens
in Hell stays in Hell.

I got nothin'.

But you do have a pretty sweet deal
with Crowley in charge.

If Abaddon wins,
you can kiss all that goodbye.

All the fancy cars, the book deals.

Showbiz can be tough.

I'm doing fine.
Thanks.

Well, good luck

landing your next gig
inside a Devil's Trap.

What do you want to know?

Where is Crowley?

Last time I heard, he was
somewhere in the western Pacific.

- Makes sense.
- NICOLE: Really?

Floating around in the ocean while
his kingdom goes up in flames?

Meaning?

Hell's gettin' crazy.

Even the loyalists
want to sign on with Abaddon.

She's gonna make her move.

Are we done?
I got a thing.

(SPEAKING IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

Seriously?
An exorcism?

- We had a deal!
- See ya, Snooks.

(CONTINUES SPEAKING
FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

(DOOR BEEPS, UNLOCKS)

Honey, I'm home.

Hello, pumpkin.

Did you have a nice day?

Lola did some shopping.

Looks like Lola did
a lot of shopping.

But not all of it's for me.

Looky, looky.

I hope it's a good vintage.

Well, you look like you
could use a little pick-me-up.

I just love
what it does for you.

Do you?

(GRUNTING)

You tried to play me?

I play the tune!

Everyone else dances to it.

- Got it?
- Yes!

I'm your slave.

You're my rodent.

My little rodent
who went scurrying off

to Abaddon to rat on me.

No! No.

Do you really think
some other lowlife

wouldn't sell you out?

I thought you were a smart girl.

A girl I could've helped.

You're joking, right?

You help me?

Look at yourself.

You couldn't help anyone.

(SCREAMING)

(BODY THUDS)

Hey.

So, Cain said
the First Blade was tossed

in the deepest ocean, right?

That's the Mariana Trench.

Maybe Crowley found it,
and it's a double-cross.

That doesn't make sense.

He wants me to power it up
and kill the ginger.

He set it up.

Okay. Assuming
he does show up with it

Crowley is only useful to us
until we have the Blade.

Yeah. So?

So...

There's nothing stopping us
from using it on him, right?

Nothing at all.

(CELL PHONE RINGING)

- Speak of the devil.
- (PHONE BEEPS)

Did you find the First Blade?

Not exactly.

Well, then, what, exactly?

I'm in...

A jam of sorts.

Thought you might help.

Hello, boys.

And what do you call this?

Refreshments?

- What's in the bag, Crowley?
- Nothing.

Really?
Maybe I can...

What, are you knocking over
blood banks?

Come on, guys.

Look at you.
You're a mess.

You know, we were counting on you.
You let us down.

Your slimy followers were
counting on you to kill Abaddon,

and you let them down.

The man with all the mojo.
Captain Evil.

It's pathetic.

What is this?

An intervention?

You need to focus, Crowley.

Get a grip!

What, you just gonna
let Hell go to Hell?

You don't know
what it's like to be human!

It's your DNA.

It's my addiction,

my cross, my burden!

All right, take it easy.

I see the darkness of it now,
the Anthony Weiner of it.

It makes you needy.

I needed her.

Lola used me.

She reported everything I did
back to Abaddon.

Crowley.

Did you tell her
about the First Blade?

I don't know.

Things get a trifle blurry
when I'm medicated.

Great.

If he told Lola,
she definitely told Abaddon.

Which means that Abaddon's
in the hunt for this thing, too.

All right, you know what?
This crap ends now.

You're cut off.
Okay?

Kicking it.
Cold turkey.

Back in this fetid pit.

Could at least have added
some throw pillows.

Focus.

Okay.

You swept the Mariana Trench.
And?

And the First Blade was not,
as hoped, in the trench.

It had, in fact, been scooped up
by an unmanned sub

from whom it was stolen
by a research assistant

who reportedly sold it
to Portuguese smugglers

who in turn, lost it to Moroccan pirates
in a poker game.

What?

Poor moose.

It's always a little tricky
keeping up, isn't it?

(KEYBOARD CLICKING)

What are you doing?

I'm still a little tainted
by humanity.

Makes me sentimental.

Well, stop.

You and I both know we shared
a mo back in that church.

And on some level, we are bonded.

Crowley, the only reason
you are alive

is that we need your help
to deal with Abaddon

'cause she is an even worse
pile of crap than you are.

And that is the extent
of my concern for you.

Got it?

Okay. What happened
after the pirates?

What is Crowley doing?

- Stealing candy.
- He's...

He's stealing candy.

You know, at least
when Cass was human he was an...

okay guy.

Should've known Crowley
would be a douche version.

(BANGING)

Hey. Hey!

Cut it out, man!

Image!

You're the king of rotten.
Act like it.

You really think
this guy's gonna show up?

I mean, this isn't exactly a place
where million-dollar deals go down.

Look, word is,
this Andre Develin character

bought the Blade from the pirates,
and he's been shopping it around.

That's all I know.

Hey, heads up.

Mr. Develin,
we spoke on the phone.

You said you represent
a serious collector

with an interest
in a private transaction.

Did he? Oh.

Well, what he meant
to say was is that we are with

the FBI.

- Then good evening.
- Wait a second.

We just want some answers.

Read Sartre.
Jean-Paul Sartre.

I'm merely a facilitator between
the buyer and the seller.

A conduit.

So, unless I'm being detained...

So, am I?

Being detained?

Not at the moment.

No, but we've got our eyes on you.

National Institute of Antiquities.

(CHUCKLING)

Gin.

Again.

(GRUNTING)

(BEEPING)

Brought you guys something
for your shift.

What's going on?

(GASPING)

(CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKING)

I don't have much for you guys.

The guards were good men.

They'd been here for years.
Vetted, honest.

- But...
- But?

Security camera shows
a research assistant

caught them breaking into
vault number one.

That's her?

Gets weirder.

MAN: Like I said.

Anything special about
the particular vault they opened?

Vault number one is where
they keep rare, new acquisitions

while they're being examined.

So what was stolen?

That's the kicker.
Nothing.

The curator, Dr. McElroy,
said the vault's been empty for weeks.

WOMAN: Excuse me.
Detective?

Okay, so, just connecting
the dots here.

The Blade was likely put
in there when it first got here.

The guards were
obviously demons, so...

What? When the vault
turned out to be empty,

they killed their guard meat-suits
and smoked out?

And reported back to who?

Abaddon?

She's closing in.

So, the First Blade
was never on display?

No authenticated item by that name
was ever on these premises.

"Authenticated."

Dr. McElroy, this Blade was stolen
and smuggled into the US

in violation of treaties
with several governments.

We can compel you to speak.

"Compel"?

And what might that involve?

All right, look, I did acquire
the so-called First Blade.

And carbon dating did peg it
to biblical times,

but the authentication
proved unreliable.

So it was in the vault.

I removed it myself.

- The guards didn't know.
- And where is it now?

Several weeks ago a confidential offer
was made to purchase it.

I was afraid we would never
authenticate the thing, so...

Who was the buyer?

Sorry.

The buyer insisted on absolute secrecy.

Well...

Federal statutes
trump your little deal.

So, the buyer?

And you'll get it out of me one way
or another, won't you, Agent?

I never did know his real identity.

He called himself "Magnus."

Don't ask me where he lives.
I have no idea.

But I do have a meeting.

So, here is my number,
should you need anything else.

What?

Did you catch that?
"Magnus"?

"Albert Magnus"?

The name the Men of Letters used
when they want to be incognito?

Yeah, but we know that all of
the Men of Letters are dead.

Do we?

(DOOR OPENS)

Turndown service?

I'd like a mint on my pillow.

What do you know about
the Men of Letters massacre of 1958?

We know Abaddon missed
our grandfather and Larry Ganem.

Was there anybody else?

Let me get this straight.

You keep me locked up
in this closet,

ignore my suffering,

and then come barging in here
and demand my help?

More or less, yeah.

Did I or did I not keep my end
of the bargain the other night?

Quite brilliantly, I might add.
We are partners!

- And you owe me!
- "Owe" you?

I wouldn't be in this mess
if it wasn't for you two.

You shoot me up.
You make me a junkie.

You keep me stashed away for months
while my kingdom falls apart!

What do you want?

It's not a very good scotch, is it?

Okay, Crowley, we have gone
through the records

for the entire membership
in 1958.

Every single name matches
the men who were killed.

That would be the active
membership, correct?

Were you two dropped
on your heads a great deal?

Like I told you, rumor has it

that a rogue member
was tossed out on his ass.

Does that make him "active"?

Seriously, boys, how did you
ever function without me?

Well, hello, Miss Ichigatsu.

"Infamati et obliterati."

"Dishonored and forgotten."

Wow.

This guy was something.

- Tough name.
- Yeah, Cuthbert Sinclair.

I'd have just gone with "Magnus."

Looks like he designed most of the
warding that keeps the bunker safe.

Says here he was named
"Master of Spell",

right after he initiated.

I guess his work got a little crazy.

The leadership called it
"eccentric" and "irresponsible".

Good. So these are the projects
that he proposed

the last two years he was here.
Look at this.

"Rejected."

"Rejected."
"Rejected."

CROWLEY: So difficult.

Brilliant, ahead of your time,
despised for it.

Trust me, I know.

"Formal separation
from Men of Letters, April 1956."

He missed the massacre.

I never knew his name,
but I heard someone was out.

Did my damndest to find him.

Thought he might be
my way inside this joint.

So where'd you look?

(RUSTLING)

So this is where
your demons tracked him to?

Exact spot.

My boys never could find him.

I'm sensing nothing,
so if he's here

he's warded up to the gills.

Well, he was a genius at it, right?

Sure as hell ain't gonna be
found by a bunch of demons.

Like he's gonna
open his heart to you lot,

because you're such prizes?

Better.
We're legacies.

All right, if he's so bent on hiding,
maybe he's watching.

Give it a shot.

Cuthbert Sinclair.
Uh, Magnus, whatever.

We're Sam and Dean Winchester,
Henry Winchester's grandsons.

And Men of Letters, ourselves.

We know what happened
back in the day.

We don't necessarily agree with it.

We figured...

Maybe you want to tell
your side of the story.

(HISSING, FIZZLING)

♪ (MUSIC PLAYS ON RECORD PLAYER) ♪
SAM: Which way?

(GROWLING)

(SLOW CLAPPING OVER SPEAKER)

MAN: Bravo!

Well done.

Sorry about all the theatricality.

I just wanted to see
what you two were made of.

So, what, are we underground?

No.

No, my fortress is right where
you were standing.

But it's invisible.

Then you must be Cuthbert Sinclair.

(GROANS)

I haven't gone by
that moniker in, oh...

57 years now.

Well, you're looking good
for a guy pushing... 90?

Well, thanks, sport.

There's a spell
for damn near everything.

I am impressed, though.

You did exactly
what you should've done.

Though I am gonna miss
those two from my zoo.

Your zoo?

Gentlemen, you are in the midst
of the greatest collection

of supernatural rarities
and antiquities on the planet.

I'm sorry.

Did you say
that you were Men of Letters?

I thought that whole thing
died out after '58.

Well, we are...
We are legacies.

But actually...

We're hunters.

(CHUCKLES) Hunters?

Ha ha! Wow!

Hunters.

With the key to the kingdom!

The boys must be spinning
in their graves.

Damn snobs.

Bunch of librarians,
if you ask me.

Although I was always fond of Henry.

I was his mentor, you know?

Yeah, till the squares
gave me the boot.

Yeah.

'Course, he came here
to visit me, in secret.

Called out to me, same as you did.

Oh, yes.

Quite the wild hair,
your grandfather was.

Listen, Magnus.

We got ourselves a little situation.

Abaddon,
the last knight of Hell,

is looking to up her pay grade
and take over the place.

Things never change, do they?

I kept telling the boys
over and over again.

I would say,
"We could stop all this.

We could rid the world of monsters
once and for all

if we just put our minds to it."

But, "oh, no," they said.

"No, no, no.
It's not our place.

We're here to study.
We're here to catalog."

Yeah, yeah, no, we get it.
They're, geeks.

But she can be stopped.

But we need something
that we hear you have.

The First Blade.

Hm. I see.

Interesting.

But if you'd really done
your homework, you would know that

it's absolutely useless,

unless, of course,
you're possessing the Mark...

The Mark of Cain.

Oh, my.

How did you come by that?

Listen, if Abaddon takes over,

the one thing she wants
more than anything

is to make hell on Earth.

Not even you can escape that.

And they say
all hunters are morons.

It's right there behind you,
gentlemen.

Listen, if you're serious
about taking action, this...

This is taking action.

You loan us that Blade,
and we will stop the bitch.

Hm...

Let me think about it.

All right,
I've thought about it.

(SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

Magnus has Dean.

What did you do with my brother?

Don't worry.
He's fine.

But I did what any
good collector would do.

I separated the ordinary
from the extraordinary.

I had the First Blade.

And now I have the Mark of Cain
to complete the set.

Yeah, well, problem is,
it's attached.

So how about you loan me the Blade
and I take care of business?

Dean, I am offering you
the moon here.

To be part of the greatest collection
of all time,

to be young forever.

Let me teach you my secrets. Hm?

Be my companion.

I have to be honest with you,
it has gotten lonely here over the years.

When you were saying any of that,
did it feel at all creepy?

Yeah. I'm just gonna
grab the Blade and go.

One little design flaw to the place.

No windows, no doors.

Well, in that case...

- I'll just make my own.
- (SPEAKING IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

Hey.

- DEAN: Ah!
- Huh?

Tricky little spell,
that first one, right?

Chinese.

Cheap magician's trick on that one.

Picked your pocket.

Nice gun.

Welcome to the collection, Dean.

You mind?

Who would have thunk it, eh, Moose?

You and me, same team,
in the trenches.

When this is over,
we can get matching tattoos.

Just to be clear, Crowley,
we are not on the same anything.

By the way,
since the place is warded,

your powers are useless,
which means you are useless,

even more so than usual.

You're gonna need another
set of hands when you get in there,

unless you have
other volunteers in mind.

Thanks. Pass.

If memory serves me,

I'm the one
who helped your brother

find Cain so that we could
find the Blade,

so that Dean
could receive the Mark.

I'm the one who flushed that lout,
Gadreel, out of your noggin.

So, lately, big boy,
I've seen more playing time than you.

Crowley, will you please
shut the hell up?

You're a really sorry
piece of work. You know that?

Holed up in here, doing nothing.

You bitch
about the Men of Letters.

You're way worse.

Should we fire it up?
What do you say?

Go to hell.

Come on, Dean.

This is the object of your quest.

Tell me

Henry Winchester's grandson
isn't curious to see if it works.

Give me your hand.

Give me

your hand.

That's it.

Good.

Next time, it'll be easier.

You'll get used to the feelings,
even welcome them.

SAM: Here's something.

Apparently,
he wanted to make the entire

Men of Letters bunker invisible.

All physical points of entry
were to be eliminated,

"and entrance
would only be gained...

...by spell."

Ooh.

We're gonna need some things.

You actually might turn out
to be useful, Crowley.

MAGNUS: You'll come to understand,
Dean, nothing can stop us.

Anything, anyone we want
to own or destroy is ours.

Well how about this, Magnus?

How about I take a knee?

Then what are you gonna do?

Huh?
You gonna kill me?

'Cause without this thing
on my arm

that Blade's nothing
but a hunk of bone with teeth.

Hm.

Well, I'm not asking you
for your cooperation.

I'm just taking it.

(CHANTING IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

Interesting effect, huh?

All thought, all will just...

Drained out of you.

I do this enough,

you'll be ready
for whatever I have in mind.

I did good, eh, Moose?

Everything on the list.

You're welcome.

Remember,
stay close, do what I say,

and shut the hell up.

I'm growing on you, aren't I?

(SPEAKING IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

Love what he's done
with the place.

Take me to my brother.

Sam! No!

Shape-shifter.

You see?
There are benefits to keeping a zoo.

You know, I discarded you
far too quickly, Sam.

You're way more valuable
than I thought you were.

Why would I knock myself out
trying to sap your will?

I think Sam here will get you
to see things my way.

Magnus, I swear to God...

What?

What are you gonna do?
What is he gonna do?

Huh?

(GRUNTING)

Yeah, look, look, Sam,
I'm not gonna kill you.

Of course not.

But I am gonna make you suffer
unimaginably, all right?

(GRUNTING)

(CLATTERING)

SAM: Dean?

Dean.

Hey, it's over.

He's dead.

Drop the Blade, Dean.

Dean!

Drop the Blade.

Brilliant, I must say.

I'm speaking of myself, of course.

All you two managed
to do was get trussed up.

Combine a little derring-do
on my part,

a little dumb muscle
from Squirrel,

a little bleeding from Moose...

Happy ending.
Roll credits.

No, no!

Come on.

What the hell?

That's sulfur.
Demons.

Ah!

Abaddon's.

Well, she's just one jump behind us.

Guess she couldn't find
Magnus' joint, either.

- What about the trunk?
- Safe.

Warding kept them out.

Demon mitts all over my baby.

Come on!

Now they're keying cars?

What language is that?

It's Enochian.

The message isn't for you.

It's for me.

"Be afraid. Your Queen."

Abaddon's getting more brazen.

She thinks I'm losing my grip.

Dean.

Dean.

Listen, you said Crowley was
only useful till we got the Blade.

We got the Blade.

(BOTH GRUNTING)

You know, boys,
I'm in debt to you.

You forced sobriety on me,

and now I can see the situation
for what it is.

Dean, you are quite the killing machine.

And it occurs to me that Abaddon
is not the only name on your list.

My name must be up there, as well.

It's no good to you without me.

Yes, but as long as I have it,
it's no good to you.

Now, this is the way
it's going to go.

I'll hang on
to old donkey teeth here

until such time
as you locate Abaddon.

Then you'll destroy her.

You're right, Moose.

You can't trust me.

But sadly,
I can't trust you, either.

(English US - SDH)