All language subtitles for Supernatural.S03E15.BRRip.x264-ION10

I got a year to live, Sam.
I'd like to make the most of this.

What do you say we kill evil
sons of bitches and we raise a little hell?

- You didn't tell Dean?
- What?

There's a new up-and-comer: Lilith.

She really, really wants
Sam's intestines on a stick.

Let Dean out of his deal right now.

I'm just a saleswoman.
I got a boss like everybody.

- Who holds the contract?
- I can't tell you.

Bela Talbot's her real name.
The Colt.

- Bela stole the Colt.
- I want it back, Bela.

Your little pistol, you mean? Sorry.

You understand
how many people are gonna die?

What exactly is it
that you think I plan to do?

Take the only weapon we have
and sell it to the highest bidder.

You know nothing about me.
Pack your crap.

- Why? Where we going?
- We go hunt the bitch down.

- I don't wanna go to hell.
- We'll save you.

I'm scared, Sam. I'm really scared.

And the only person that can
get me out of this thing is me.

And me.

Up for a drink? No, I can't.

I gotta be up at the crack of dawn.
Duty calls.

A boob job? I wish.

No, some crabby old broad
wants the works.

I need a forklift to get it all back up.

All that work to hack,
what, 15 minutes off their faces?

Staying young is a brutal business.

Hey, hey.

Help! Help!

Help! Help! Let me out of here.

Help!

Sir?

Please.

It's okay, sir.
Let me see what happened.

Don't you worry.
There's nothing I haven't seen.

- No, no, no.
- Let me see.

Stop.

You ready to talk?

I don't know. I don't know anything.

Oh, you hear that, Sam?
He doesn't know anything.

Yeah, I heard.

I'm telling you the truth.
Oh, you are?

My God, then I owe you an apology.

Allow me to make it up to you.

I'm gonna ask you one last time.
Who holds my contract?

Your mother.

Yeah, she, uh, showed it to me
right before I bent her over.

I want a name.

- Or else...
- Or what?

Hmm?

You gonna squirt your holy water
in both ends?

Please. Brother, that's like a flea bite...

compared to what's coming to me
if I tell you jack.

Do what you want.

The only thing I'm scared of
is the demon holding your ticket.

How's that feel? Does that feel good?

Go ahead.

Send me back to hell.

Because when you get there,
I'll be waiting for you.

With a few pals who are dying...

for a nice little meet and greet
with Dean Winchester.

Should I?

Send him someplace
he can't hurt anyone else.

You ran the prints twice? You're sure?

Okay. Yeah, just chalk it up to lab error.

Ha, ha, don't I know it. Okay, thanks.
Yeah, I'll tell the lieutenant.

Bury the body?

Yeah. Poor schmuck.

It's like these demons ride him hard
just for kicks.

Uh. What's the phone call about?

Remember that thing
in the paper yesterday?

- Stripper suffocates dude with thighs?
- The other thing.

Right, the guy that walks into the ER and
kneels over dead, his stomach ripped out?

His liver, actually.
Anyways, I found something interesting.

- What?
- The dead body?

Covered in bloody fingerprints.
Not the victim's.

Great, my man Dave Caruso'll
be stoked to hear it.

Those fingerprints match
a guy who died in 1981.

Really?

So, what are we talking?
Uh, walking dead?

- Walking, killing dead?
- Maybe.

Zombies do like
the other "other white meat."

Huh. Mm.

- What do you care about zombies?
- What do you mean?

You've been on soul-saving detail
for months...

now three weeks out and
you're interested in some zombie action?

You're the one
who's been gung ho to hunt.

- I just thought I'd be doing you a favor.
- No, no, no.

I didn't say I didn't wanna do it, okay?
Obviously, I wanna hunt some zombies.

Okay, fine. Whatever.

Yup, the rest of the body was intact.
The liver was the only organ missing.

Where the liver was ripped out, did you
happen to notice any teeth marks?

Can I see your badges?

Of course, sure.

Fine, so you're cops and morons.

Excuse me? No, no, we're very smart.
The liver was not ripped out.

It was removed. Surgically.

By someone who knew their way
around a scalpel.

Didn't you read my report?

Of course we did. It was, uh, riveting.
It's a real page-turner. Just delightful.

- You done?
- I think so.

- Please, go away.
- Okay.

Sure.

- What?
- Nothing.

So that punches a hole in our
zombie theory, huh, that scalpel thing?

Zombie with skills?
Dr. Quinn, medicine zombie.

Maybe we're on the wrong track, Dean,
looking for hacked-up corpses.

- What should we be looking for?
- Survivors.

This isn't zombie lunch.
This is organ theft.

I told the cops all of this yesterday.
I don't wanna talk about it anymore.

Just a couple questions, sir.

Hey, man, I just got my kidney stolen.
I'm tired.

We'll be out of here quick.
Don't you wanna get the guy?

Will it get me back my kidney?

- Sir, what's the last thing you remember?
- Feeding my meter.

I'm jumped from behind
and then I wake up strapped to a table.

And then the worst pain
you could possibly imagine, only worse.

And then I black out again, thank God.

And then I wake up screaming
in some no-tell motel...

in a bathtub full of ice.

Do you remember anything
about the surgery?

What the guy looked like,
any details about the room?

Now, let me think about that.

Yeah.

One thing is coming back to me.
You know what I remember?

Getting my kidney cut out of my body.

- So I got a theory.
- Yeah?

I talked to Mr. Giggles' doctor.

Turns out,
his incisions were sewn up with silk.

- That's weird.
- Yeah, nowadays it is.

But silk used to be the suture of choice
back in early 19th century.

It was problematic.
Patients would get massive infections.

The death rate was insane.

- Good times.
- Right.

So doctors had to do whatever they could
to keep infections from spreading.

- One way was maggots.
- Dude, I'm eating.

It actually worked because maggots
eat bad tissue and leave good tissue.

Get this, when they found our guy, his
body cavity was stuffed full of maggots.

Dude, I'm eating.
All right, let me get this straight.

- So people are getting ganked.
- Yeah.

A little Antiques Roadshow surgery,
some, uh, organ theft.

- Why is this all sounding familiar?
- You heard it before.

When you were a kid.

From Dad.

Doc Benton.

Real-life doctor,
lived in New Hampshire, brilliant.

And obsessed with alchemy,
especially how to live forever.

So in 1816,
Doc abandons his practice...

Right, yeah, nobody hears from him
for 20 years.

And people start showing up dead.

Dead or missing an organ, or a hand,
or some other kind of part.

Whatever he was doing was working.
He kept on ticking.

Parts would wear out,
he'd replace them.

Dad hunted him and took his heart out.

Yeah, I guess the doc
must've plugged in a new one.

All right, where's he doing the deed?

Benton's picky
about where he sets up his lab.

He likes dense forest...

with access to a river or stream
or some kind of fresh water.

- Why?
- Because that's where...

he likes to dump the bile,
and intestines, and fecal matter.

Lost your appetite yet?

Oh, baby, I can't stay mad at you.

Shh.

No, please.

No, no.

No.

No.

So these are all old hunting cabins.
They've been abandoned for years.

Then what the hell we waiting for?

- Bobby?
- Hey. I think I finally got a beat on Bela.

- I'm listening.
- Rufus Turner.

Is that like a Cleveland Steamer?

He's a hunter, or used to be.
And now?

Hermit, mostly.
Does a little selling on the side.

Anyway,
I put the word out on Bela months ago.

He just called, said a woman
got in touch, wanted to buy some things.

And he thinks it's Bela?
British accent.

- Went by the name Mina Chandler.
- She's used that before.

It's a sloppy move, getting in contact
with one of your old friends?

Friend?
Haven't laid eyes on him in 15 years.

And he's not the Christmas-card type.
I doubt she knows I know him.

Canaan, Vermont.

- Thanks, Bobby, we're on our way.
- One other thing.

Take a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.

Okay.

We're going after Bela.

- What? Whoa. Hold on a...
- Get your stuff, the clock's ticking.

Look, I think we should stay here
and finish the case.

- You insane?
- There's no way she has the Colt.

That was months ago. She probably
sold it the second she got it.

- Well, then I'll kill her. Win-win.
- Dean...

Sam, we're going.

- No.
- Why the hell not?

Dean, this here, now.
This is what's gonna save you.

- What? Chasing some Frankenstein?
- Chasing immortality.

Look, Benton can't die.

We find out how he did it,
we can do it to you.

- What?
- You have to die before you go to hell.

- So if you can never die...
- Wait, wait, wait. Wait a second.

Did you know that this was Doc Benton
from the jump?

No.

- I was hoping...
- So the zombie thing, it was lying to me?

I didn't wanna say anything until
I was sure. I'm trying to find an answer.

No, what you're trying to do
is chase Slicey McHackey here.

To kill him?
No, you wanna buy him a freaking beer.

- You wanna study him.
- I was trying to help.

You're not helping. You forget
that if I welch on this deal, you die.

- Living forever is welching.
- Whatever the magic pill is, I'll take it.

Oh, what is this, Sid and Nancy?
No, it's just like Bobby's been saying.

We kill the demon that
holds the contract, this wipes clean.

That's our best shot.

Even if you had the Colt,
who you gonna shoot?

- We have no idea who holds the ticket.
- I'll shoot the Hellhounds then.

- Now, you coming or not?
- I'm staying here.

No, you're not.

I'm not letting you wander in the woods
alone to track some organ-stealing freak.

- You're not gonna let me?
- No.

How are you gonna stop me?

Look, man,
we're trying to do the same thing here.

I know.

But I'm going.

So if you wanna stay, stay.

Sammy, be careful.

You too.

What?

Hi, uh, Rufus.

Yeah, even if I am,
the question is still the same. What?

Uh, I'm Dean Winchester,
I'm a friend of Bobby Singer's.

So?

You called him this morning.
So?

Uh, ahem, you told Bobby about
a British chick, made contact with you.

Yeah, and so?
Do you know where she is?

Yeah.
Could you tell me where I could find her?

- No.
- Of course not.

Ahem, look, Rufus, man, heh...

Look, let me point something out to you.

You are knocking at my door,
so don't "look, man" me.

I'm not your man.

I'm sorry, sir.

I'm gonna tell you a little story.
Once, Bobby called me.

Asked me to call him
if I got a whiff of Bela Talbot.

I got a whiff, I called. The end.

If you could just tell me where she is,
I mean, that'd be great, heh.

- Dean Winchester, right?
- Yeah.

Dean, do I look like I'm here to help you?

- I'm gonna say no, heh.
- Then get the hell off my property.

All right, hey, fair enough.
I got one more question for you, though.

See, I got this, ahem,
bottle of Scotch and, uh...

Is this considered good?

Well, bottoms up.

You know, I don't even bother drinking
unless it's this stuff.

- Nectar of the gods, I'm telling you.
- Yeah, it's a nice change, you know.

Most of my whiskey
comes from a plastic jug.

- So Bela was here because...?
- She wanted to buy a couple of things.

Which is gonna take me
some time to round up.

Where is she now?

Kid, can I ask you something?

- Sure.
- You got three weeks left.

Why are you wasting your time...

chasing after that skinny,
stuck-up English girl?

How do you know about that?

Because I know things.

I know a lot of things
about a lot of people.

That so?

I know ain't no pea shooter
gonna save you.

What makes you so sure?

Because that's the job, kid.

Even if you manage
to scrape out of this one...

there's just gonna be something else
down the road.

Folks like us...

there ain't no happy ending.

We all got it coming.

Well, ain't you a bucket of sunshine.

I'm what you've got to look forward to
if you survive.

Which you won't.

So, Bela.

Hotel Canaan. Room 39.

But watch your back.

I think I can handle Bela.

Oh, don't be so sure about that.

There are things
that you don't know about her.

Oh, and you do?

Right, because you know things.

- Yep.
- Let me guess, you lift her fingerprint?

Yep.

- And that got you jack.
- Yep.

She burned them off.

Probably years ago.

- Yeah, so you're right where we are.
- Nope.

- You do her ear?
- Sorry?

You do her ear?

Did I do her...?

Hey, man, I'll try anything once, but
I don't know, that sounds uncomfortable.

Ears are as unique to humans
as fingerprints.

No kidding.

Course, that don't fly in the courts
over here, but in England?

They're all over it.

A friend of a friend of a friend...

faxed me 10 pages
of confidential files within a day.

All I had to send him
was one clean shot off the security cam.

Right.

One clean shot of her ear.

The so-called Bela Talbot.

Shh, shh, shh.

It's okay, I'm here to help you.
I'm here to help you, I'm gonna help you.

Uh. Okay. Shh.

Okay. Shh, shh, shh.

Oh, God.

Sorry. I'm sorry. Okay. Shh.

Shh, shh, shh.

Okay, watch your head.
Watch your head.

Sorry.

It's gonna be fine, I promise you.

- Where's the Colt?
- Dean.

No extra words.

It's long gone.

Across the world by now.

- You're lying.
- I'll call the buyer. Speak Farsi?

What the hell are you...?

Don't flatter yourself.

- Don't move.
- I told you, I don't have it.

Oh, yeah, I'm definitely
gonna take your word for it.

Don't move.

It's gone.

Get on a plane if you must.

Track down the buyer.
You might catch up to him, eventually.

- Are you going to kill me?
- Oh, yeah.

- You're not the cold-blooded type.
- You mean, like you?

It's true.

See, I couldn't imagine
killing my parents.

- I don't know what you're...
- Yes, you do.

You were, what, 14?

Your folks die in some shady accident,
police suspected a slashed brake line...

but it was all too crispy to tell.

Cut to little Bela...

I'm sorry. Abbie.

Inheriting millions.

- How did you even...?
- Doesn't matter.

They were lovely people.

And I killed them.

And I got rich.

I can't be bothered to give a damn.

Just like I don't care
what happens to you.

You make me sick.

Likewise.

You're not worth it.

It worked.

He found me.

No, Sam wasn't with him.

But I know where they are.

- Dean?
- Yeah.

You get the Colt?
What do you think?

So does that mean Bela is, uh...?
No, no.

She deserves to die a dozen times over,
but I couldn't do it.

Dean...
I'm really screwed, Sammy.

- No, you're just...
- You were right, Bela was a goose chase.

The Colt's gone.
And this time I'm really screwed, Sam.

Maybe not.

Dean, I found Benton's cabin.

You okay? Was he there? Yeah.

Did you kill him? No.

What do you mean, no?
Listen for a second.

I found his lab book
and it has the formula.

What, the live-forever formula?
Yeah.

Let me guess,
I gotta drink blood out of a baby's skull?

No, that's the thing, it's not black magic.
There's no blood sacrifice or anything.

It's just science, Dean.

Very, very,
extremely weird science, but...

Wait, what are you saying? You think...?
I think it might be doable.

I know we've hit a lot of walls, but I think
this formula, I think it might be it.

This could save you.

Okay, so this formula...

Look, we're not in the clear yet,
there are still things that I don't get...

Sam?

Sammy?

You can relax.

It's all gonna be okay.

Ain't nothing gonna happen here
that you got to worry about, Sammy.

And your chances of coming out
of this procedure alive...

very, very high.

How do you know my name?

Oh.

I know.

You think I'm some kind of monster,
don't you?

Well, I gotta tell you, I have never done
one thing that I did not have to do.

This whole eternal life thing
is very high-maintenance.

Something goes bad, like my eyes here,
you gotta replace them.

And sometimes, things get damaged,
like when your father cut out my heart.

Now, that...

That was very inconvenient.

So I'm sure that you can understand
all the joy I felt...

when I read all about myself here
in his journal.

Kind of makes this whole thing...

just feel like some kind
of family reunion, don't it?

Well, I guess it's about time
that we get this thing started.

Shoot all you want.

A knife?

What part of immortality
do you not understand?

Pity about the heart, though.

It was a brand-new one.

Good.

Should be pumping nice and strong.

Sending this stuff
throughout your whole body.

See, I picked up your little bottle
upstairs and dipped the knife in it.

Oh, hiya, Doc.

Wakey wakey eggs and bakey.

Please. Please what?

You've been killing for over 150 years
and now you got a request?

- Shut up.
- You don't understand, I can help you.

I know what you need.

I'm gonna have to cut him into bits.
This immortality thing is a bitch.

I can read the formula for you.

You know, immortality...

forever young, never die.

Dean.

Sam.

What?

We're talking hell in three weeks or
needing a new pancreas in half a century.

You can't exactly get those
at a Kwik-E-Mart.

It's not perfect, but it buys us time
to think of something better.

We just need time, Dean.
I mean, please, just think about it.

No.

- Don't you wanna live?
- He isn't living.

- This is simple.
- Simple?

To me it is, okay?
Black or white. Human, not human.

You see, what the doc is...
He's a freaking monster.

I can't do it.

I would rather go to hell.

You don't understand. I can help you.

Now, I'm gonna take care of him.

You can either help me or not.
It's up to you.

No, no. Don't be stupid!

I can help you. No.

Enjoy forever in there, Doc.
I can save you.

Let me out! Let me out!

Let me out!

Let me out. I can save you!

No, don't! Don't!

No, let me out, let me out.

Let me out, let me out, let me out.

No!

Hiya, Bela.

Here's a fun fact you may not know.

I felt your hand in my pocket
when you swiped that motel receipt.

- You don't understand.
- I'm pretty sure I understand perfectly.

I noticed something interesting
in your hotel room.

Something tucked above the door.

An herb. Devil's shoestring?

Well, there's only one use for that.

Holding Hellhounds at bay.

I went back and I took another look
at your folks' obit.

Turns out, they died 10 years ago today.

You didn't kill them.

A demon did your dirty work.

You made a deal, didn't you, Bela?

And it's come due.

I can take care of them for you.

And it won't even cost you anything...

for 10 whole years.

So is that why you stole the Colt, huh?

Try to wiggle out of your deal?

- Our gun for your soul?
- Yes.

But stealing the Colt
wasn't quite enough, I'm guessing.

They changed the deal.

They wanted me to kill Sam.

Really? Wow. Demons untrustworthy.

Ha. Shocker.

That's, uh, kind of a tight deadline too.

Uh, what time is it?
Oh, look at that, almost midnight.

Dean, listen, I need help.

- Sweetheart, we are weeks past help.
- I know I don't deserve it.

You're right, you don't. But you know
what the bitch of the bunch is?

If you would've just come to us
sooner and asked for help...

we probably could've taken the Colt
and saved you.

I know, and saved yourself.
I know about your deal, Dean.

And who told you that?

The demon that holds it.
She holds mine too.

She says she holds every deal.

- She?
- Her name's Lilith.

Lilith?

Why should I believe you?

You shouldn't, but it's the truth.

This can't help you, Bela. Not now.
Why are you telling me this?

Because just maybe
you can kill the bitch.

I'll see you in hell.