Robin’s Rambles by Robin Vogel
It’s night, very dark. Sam is wildly running, apparently in upstate New York where Castle Storage, John’s storage container, is located. It appears a police car is chasing him. He leans against a door that says DELIVERY ENTRANCE ONLY and backs in. “We’re closed,” says Robin, the girl behind the counter of the bar. “Just give me a second,” says Sam, breathless. “Sorry, pal, we open at noon,” she says. “You don’t understand,” he says, peering out at the passing cop car. Spotting the car, she says, “I think I understand just fine: I don’t need this kind of hassle, so seriously, just get the hell out.” He begs her for a moment to think, and he’ll be out of her hair. She’s reaching for a bat behind the counter as he says this. She stares at him a moment, gasping for breath, at his puppy dog eyes that have won over so many before her, and puts the bat back where it was. “What’s your name?” she asks. “I don’t know,” he answers. “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Robin asks. “I mean, I don’t remember,” he answers, “I don’t remember anything.” They gaze at each other in consternation.
Robin opens and hands him an El Sol beer. “Come on, you’re dickin’ with me,” she says, “nothing?” “Blank slate,” says Sam. “Wallet, ID?” she asks. “I wish I did,” says Sam. She asks the last thing he remembers. Cops shoving a flashlight in his face as he slept on a park bench, says Sam, tried to take him in. So you ran, she guesses. No, he says, I knocked ’em out cold, both of them. At the unhappy look she gives him, he says, “Look, I didn’t mean to, it just happened really fast, you know, instinct, or something. “Some instinct,” she comments darkly. “Tell me about it,” agrees Sam, “I mean, who even knows how to do something like that?” “We’ll go to the ER, the quacks will hash it out,” she says. “No,” he says. “Try YEAH,” she insists, “the bats have flown the belfry, you need to see a doctor.” Sam rises from the bar stool, forehead puckered. “No, I don’t have time,” he says, “it’s hard to explain, I just feel I have to BE somewhere, there’s somethin’ I gotta stop.” “Like a wedding or train?” she asks. “No, something like life or death,” he says. “Relax,” she says, “you can’t poop it out, so, it’ll come to you.” Sam nods, gives her a nervous grin, and takes a book from a nearby shelf: H. P. Lovecraft’s THE HUNTER IN THE DARK. “Horror fan?” Robin asks. “I think so,” says Sam, “I REALLY think so. Something about this. . .” A brief montage passes through his mind–him, Dean, Bobby, Balthazar, capped by a motel sign: THE NITE OWL. He apparently comes close to passing out, scaring Robin, who says, “Seriously, we are taking you to a doctor.” “Do you have a computer?” he asks shakily. “WHAT?” she says, incredulous. He finds the Nite Owl Hotel two towns over. “Do you think you’re staying in this dump?” she asks. Sam doesn’t know. “Maybe you’re a hooker,” she suggests. (I’ve got a thousand bucks!) Sam blushes and laughs. “I guess I’ll find out,” he says. “Thanks for everything,” he says, standing. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asks. He assures her he’ll be fine. “Says the head case who just slumped over a minute ago,” she reminds him, “is there any way I can convince you to go to a hospital?” “No, apparently I’m stubborn,” says Sam. (He is SO cute!) “So am I,” she says, “grabbing a sweater, “I’m driving.” “That’s really nice of you, but not necessary,” Sam insists. “Your eggs are scrambled, but. . .” she begins. “But,” Sam says. “Nothing,” she says. “I mean, I’m just some guy,” Sam says, “I could be ANYBODY, you gotta be nuts.” “I’ve been called that,” she says–“look, I can’t let you go out alone, I won’t be able to sleep at night–and honestly (smiling) I’m dying to know how it all turns out.”
NITE OWL HOTEL – Walking in front of the building, Robin asks where they should start. “Ground floor, corner room, nearest to the fire escape,” says Sam, “that’s the one I’d pick for the quickest getaway.” “And WHY do you know that?” she asks, suspicious. “I just do,” says Sam, with a huff. In a hallway, Sam passes a guy who, from the back, looks just like Bobby, cap and all, but there is no recognition on either side. Sam knocks at 107 but gets no answer. “You got a credit card?” he asks Robin. “Why–are we, uh, checkin’ in?” she asks archly, teasingly holding it back a moment. (Hey, the woman isn’t stupid, and Sam is SO hot!) “Sort of,” says Sam, plucking the card from her hand and using it to jimmy open the lock. Taking back her card, Robin says, “Dude, who ARE you?” “Good question,” says Sam. They enter the room. Pictures and article are hung all over the walls (like Bobby and John work a case). “These all yours?” Robin asks. “I don’t know,” says Sam, “I guess.” “I LOVE what you’ve done with the place,” she quips, it’s very it’s A BEAUTIFUL MIND meets SE7EN. . .sorry, I talk when I’m nervous.” Finding a batch of ID cards, she adds, “I guess we know your name–nice to meet you, Jimmy Page, and us, Neil Peart, and Angus Young. Listen, no offense, but I’m really starting to freak out.” “You and me both,” admits Sam. Sam spies a photo of Ellie in a newspaper article about her disappearance and passes out. “Where is she?” he hears Dean’s voice ask. “She said to meet her here,” says Bobby. He, his brother and Bobby are walking together down a street. “I’ll try her again,” says Bobby, flipping open his phone. They hear Ellie’s phone ringing just feet away from them, in an alley, and find her leaning against what looks like a bed frame. “Ellie,” says Bobby, pressing his hand to her face. “I guess I could have used your help after all,” she says. “Just be still,” says Bobby. “What happened?” asks Sam. “They took me,” she says, proudly adding, “I got away.” Opening her coat, Bobby sees a spreading blood stain on her stomach. “Oh, Ellie,” he laments, “what have they done to you?” “Everything,” she says, smiling, “the demon I could’ve handled, you know, but when the angel stepped in, I. . .” Bobby exchanges a look with the brothers. “I told then, Bobby,” Ellie confesses, “they have enough to crack Purgatory wide open.” “Tell me–I need to know,” insists Bobby. “They need virgin blood,” explains Ellie, “that’s a milk run for them. And they need the blood of a Purgatory native–well, they got plenty of that now. . .” She indicates herself. “Have they opened it yet?” demands Dean. She shakes her head. “Tomorrow,” she says, “the moon, the eclipse. Sorry, Bobby.” “That’s okay,” he assures her, “tell us where they are.” But Ellie dies. “El?” says Bobby, and sweeps one hand over her face and closes her eyes. Over the brothers’ shoulders, Cas appears. “I’m sorry this had to happen,” he says, “Crowley got carried away.” Bobby tries to move between Sam and Dean to get at the angel. “Yeah, I bet it was all Crowley, you son-of-a-bitch!” snarls Bobby. “You don’t even see it, do you?” asks Dean angrily–“do you have any idea how off the rails you are?” “Enough!” says Cas–“I don’t care what you think” (ouch) you won’t listen, so let me make this simple–please go home and let me stop Raphael. I won’t ask again.” “Well good,” says Dean, “because I think you already know the answer.” “I wish it hadn’t come to this,” says Cas sadly, “rest assured when this is all over, I will save Sam–if you stand down.” “Save Sam for what?” asks Dean. Cas disappears and reappears right next to Sam. He touches the side of his temple. Everything goes white.
“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Robin asks. “Sam–my name is Sam,” he says. Later, as he tosses cold water on his face and looks at himself in the mirror over the sink, she asks, “So, what do you remember?” “It might sound pretty strange if I said it out loud,” he says, drying his face with a towel. “It couldn’t get any stranger,” she assures him. “Don’t be so sure,” he says. “It’s all pretty spotty. I remember I was with two guys, one was like a male model type (now we know how handsome Sam thinks Dean is), the other was an older guy named. . .Bobby.” He leafs through a booklet. “Bobby Singer, that’s gotta be him!” “Is there a phone number?” Robin asks. “Just an address,” says Sam, “Sioux Falls, South Dakota.” This is where Robin has to get off. “Of course, no problem,” says Sam. “How’re you gonna get there?” she asks He picks up a set of keys. “I guess I’ll take my car,” he says. Outside, he points to the gorgeous ’67 Impala. “That’s mine,” he says with certainty. “Are you sure?” she asks. “Oh yeah,” he says. “Look, Sam,” she says, I don’t feel right about you going off like this.” “Don’t worry, you’ve done way too much for me already,” he insists. “I’ve got a bad feeling,” she says, “those ID’s and that shady-ass hotel room–whatever you’re looking for, you might not like what you find.” “What other choice do I have?” he asks. “Search a bit longer, get your head straight, instead of going off. . .” she suggests. Something–the way her voice gets echoey, perhaps–causes Sam to quickly drop the two of them to the ground, Robin underneath him. Gunfire shoots out the Impala’s passenger window. “What was that?” cries Robin. “Stay down,” orders Sam. Kneeling, he looks around. Their shooter? RoboSam! Behind him, Robin calls, “Sam! Sammy!”
There are strange flashes, and we are abruptly with Dean. “Sammy,” he says, sitting over Sam’s unconscious body in Bobby’s panic room, begging him, “Snap out of it,” as the fan above swirls, making weird patterns on Sam’s slack face. Dean gulps, trying not to cry, looking like he hasn’t had any sleep in quite a while.
(So I realize this is taking place in Sam’s mind, that Cas is responsible, the SOB, and wonder just who Robin is, and if the writers named her after me, LOL.
I feel awful about Ellie, who apparently had a nice relationship with Bobby at one time. She was from Purgatory, yes, but intended no harm to anyone, and she even tried to help against the dragons. Another gal bites the dust on SPN. It’s a shame.)
“Play With Fire” by the Rolling Stones opens this scene with Dean pacing, staring down at Sam. “Anything?” asks Bobby. “I can’t just sit here, Bobby,” says Dean, desperate, “I’ve got to help him–dreamscape his noggin–SOMETHING!”(DREAMSCAPE is a 1984 horror movie in which two scientists invent a technique by which psychics can enter people’s dreams. Dean and Sam previously dream-walked in Bobby’s mind in “Dream a Little Dream of Me.”) “You know what Cas did,” Bobby reminds him, “the dam inside your brother’s head is GONE and all hell’s spillin’ loose; we don’t know what’s goin’ on inside.” “We have got to do SOMETHING!” Dean insists. “And we WILL!” promises Bobby,” but right now we got 16 hours until they pop Purgatory; I’m down one man, I can’t afford to be down two, Dean.” “How’s that going, huh?” asks Dean–“we’ve got no light on Crowley, we’ve got no light on Cas, Balthazar’s M.I.A.–I mean, all we’ve got is Sam, going through whatever the hell this is!” “You know,” says Bobby quietly, pouring Dean a stiff drink, “this is exactly what Cas wants–for you to fall to pieces. Just try and think what Sam would want.” Dean takes the glass. “Find Cas, Bobby,” says Dean with cool anger, “find him now.” Bobby nods; they both drink.
Sam, driving in the Impala with Robin, asks, “Do you smell whiskey?” “Sam, would you focus?” she asks nervously. “Sure, sorry,” he says. “Who shot at us?” she asks. “I didn’t really get a good look,” he lies. She wants to go to the cops, but he want to get to his friends, “They can help us, I know it.” “You don’t know if they’re your friends, you don’t know anything!” she protests, “you don’t know anything about anything! Turn around.” He refuses: “You’re safer with me,” he says. “How do you know that?” she asks–“you’re scaring me.” He doesn’t answer her, making her even more frightened.
Dean shines a flashlight into Sam’s eye, causing a bright light to blind Sam, who’s driving the Impala. He screeches the car to a stop. “What? No way!” he exclaims, climbing out of the car. Robin does, too, demanding, “WHAT was THAT?” “What do you mean?” he asking, pointing upward, “it’s daylight!” “YEAH?” she says. “It was night, and now it’s day,” says Sam. “It was ALWAYS day,” insists Robin. “Nonononono, it wasn’t,” counters Sam. “They stare at each other across the top of the Impala. “What the hell’s going on here?” he asks. “Okay, so I am ALLLL filled up on crazy for today,” she says, “you know what, Sam, I’m out–see ya.” She starts walking away. “Wait, he says, “get in the car.” He tilts his head, indicating something isn’t right, and she climbs back in the car. Sam stares around, paranoid, then takes a look in the trunk, filled with guns, knives, brass knuckles and other assorted, scary weapons. “Wow!” he says, checking out a sawed-off shotgun and a revolver. Keeping the sawed-off, he checks the surrounding countryside for RoboSam–who presses a gun to his neck first, slams him in the face, and wrests his weapon away from him. Souled-Sam rubs his face; RoboSam cruelly says, “My God, am I really that gawky? Howdy.” “This is impossible,” says Souled Sam, barely able to breathe. “Cold–try again,” urges RS. Rubbing his face and pushing his hair aside, Souled Sam guesses, “I’m hallucinating.” “Warmer,” says RS, “but normally, you’re awake when you’re tripping balls. (‘Tripping balls’ is to be really high on a hallucinogen like LSD or magic mushrooms.) “I’m dreaming?” asks SS. The two of them begin circling each other. “And someone just won a copy of the home game!” says RS–“we’re inside your grapefruit, Sam–son, you’ve been juiced.” “I don’t remember anything,” says SS, distressed. “Or your BFF Cas brought the hell wall tumbling down and you, pathetic infant that you are, shattered into pieces,” says RS.” He points to himself–“Piece”–and to SS–“Piece.” “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about,” says SS. “Why would you?” says RS–“you’re Jello, Pal, unlike me.” “What are you?” asks SS, frightened. “I’m not handicapped,” says RS, “I’m not SADDLED with a soul. In fact, I was skipper of this meat boat for a while, it was smooth sailing. I was sharp, strong. That is, until they crammed your soul back in. Now look at you–same misty-eyed milksop you always were. That’s because souls are weak. They’re a liability. Now, nothin’ personal, but, run the numbers–someone’s gotta take charge around here, before it’s too late.” He starts shooting at SS, missing, and goes after him, letting the bullets fly. SS runs and realizes he’s got a gun in his own hand. “Come out come out wherever you are!” calls RS, his voice echoing grotesquely. SS races toward a stream. Spotting Souled-Sam’s jacket sticking up near a dead tree trunk, RS figures he’s hiding there and fires three bullets into the jacket with a cold smile. Moving closer, however, RS sees that he’s shot holes into ONLY the jacket, not the man. SS stands behind him, firing, and RS falls. Souled Sam gasps in fear as Soulless Sam turns over and says, “You think I’m bad–wait till you meet the other one.” He falls. White-blue light emanates from his body and hits Souled Sam squarely in the chest as the two of them merge.
Back at Bobby’s, Sam lies on the cot, struggling violently, arching his back as if in agony. “Sammy!” cries Dean, going over to help him through the seizure or whatever it is. But Sam lies still and Dean is terrified.
Sam, holding his shot-up jacket in his hand, returns to the Impala and Robin, who is leaning against the driver’s side door. “I remember who I am,” he says, sounding a lot like RoboSam, “the things I did this past year–and I remember YOU.”
Flashback: A red-eyed demon holds Robin captive, warning RoboSam, who’s holding a gun on him, “Walk away or the girl dies.” She looks at RS, pleading for her life. RoboSam shoots her dead. The demon drops her to the floor, shocked by RS’s actions. “There goes your leverage,” says RS. (Whew, that’s how cold RoboSam’s choices were! He had NO concern for the life of others. Talk about ruthless!)
Robin and Sam stare down at her shirt and see a spreading crimson bloodstain. “Didn’t I tell you to turn back?” she says regretfully– “that you wouldn’t like what you found?” “I’m sorry. . .I’m so sorry,” Sam says. “Not as sorry as you’re gonna be,” she promises, and disappears. Sam looks puzzled, then sighs.
Dean is sitting in the panic room, nursing his drink. “Look what the cat dragged in,” announces Bobby, ushering in Balthazar, who says, “At least you mudfish got the angel-proofing right.” He points to Sam. “How’s sleeping beauty? You didn’t steal any kisses, I trust?” (Ahh, that sexual innuendo, they never let it go!) Dean stands inside the panic room, the angel outside. “What the hell took you so long?” he demands. “Honestly?” asks Balthazar–“I was having second thoughts.” “ABOUT?” asks Dean angrily. “About whether or not to help you,” says Balthazar, “I was thinking maybe. . .maybe I should rip out your sticky bits instead.” “And what did you decide?” wonders Bobby. “Well,” says Balthy, handing Dean a slip of paper, “Cas and Crowley are there–that’s where the show gets started.” (221 Piermont Ave., Bootback, KS?) “Give us a minute to pack up, then zap us there,” says Dean. Balthazar refuses: “I’m betraying a FRIEND here,” he reminds them, “a very powerful friend, we all are, so I think I’ve stuck my neck out far enough already. Good luck.” He flies off. Bobby and Dean look at each other, then Dean gazes at Sam.