Sam: Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers — I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?
Dean: Yeah, I double-checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Look, Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, Sammy.
Sam: Well, I'm tellin' you, I looked, and all I could find was a big, steaming pile of nothin'. If Dad's sending us hunting for something, I don't know what.
Dean: Well, maybe he's gonna meet us there.
Sam: Yeah, 'cause he's been so easy to find up to this point.
Dean: You're a real smartass, you know that? Don't worry, I'm sure there's somethin' in Fitchburg worth killin'.
Sam: Yeah? What makes you so sure?
Dean: Well, because I'm the oldest, which means I'm always right.
Sam: No, it doesn't.
Dean: Yeah, it totally does.
Sam: Dude, dude, I am not using this ID.
Dean: Why not?
Sam: Because it says "bikini inspector" on it.
Dean: Don't worry, she won't look that close. Hell, she won't even ask to see it. It's all about confidence, Sam.
Sam: Hi, I'm Dr. Jerry Kaplan, Center for Disease Control.
Receptionist: Can I see some ID?
Sam: Yeah, of course.
Sam: So, you say you got six cases so far?
Dr. Hydecker: Yeah, in five weeks. At first, we thought it was garden-variety bacterial pneumonia—not that newsworthy. But now…
Sam: Now what?
Dr. Hydecker: The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep goin' down. Their immune systems just aren't doin' their job. It's like their bodies are wearing out.
Dean: All right, now, just a few more questions, if you don't mind. How do you think they caught pneumonia? Were they out in the cold, anything like that?
Miles: No, we think it was an open window.
Dean: Both times?
Miles: The first time, I don't really remember. But the second time, for sure. I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed.
Sam: So, you think she opened it?
Miles: It's a second-story window with a ledge. No one else could have.
John: All right. You know the drill, Dean. If anybody calls, you don't pick up. If it's me, I'll ring once and then call back. You got that?
Young Dean: Mmhmm. Don't answer the phone unless it rings once first.
John: Come on, dude, look alive. This stuff's important.
Young Dean: I know, it's just—we've gone over it, like, a million times, and you know I'm not stupid.
John: I know you're not. But it only takes one mistake, you got that? All right, if I'm not back Sunday night?
Young Dean: Call Pastor Jim.
John: Lock the doors and windows, close the shades, and most important—
Young Dean: Watch out for Sammy. I know.
John: All right, if somethin' tries to bust in?
Young Dean: Shoot first, ask questions later.
John: That's my man.
Dean: I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job.
Sam: So, what the hell is a shtriga?
Dean: It's kind of like a witch, I think. I don't know much about 'em.
Sam: Well, I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal.
Dean: Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin about sixteen, seventeen years ago. You were there, you don't remember?
Dean: Yeah, I guess he caught wind that the thing's in Fitchburg now and kicked us the coordinates.
Sam: So, wait, this…
Sam: Right. You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?
Dean: Yeah, maybe.
Sam: But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?
Dean: 'Cause it got away.
Sam: Got away?
Dean: Yeah, Sammy, it happens.
Sam: Not very often.
Dean: Well, I don't know what to tell you, I mean, maybe Dad didn't have his Wheaties that morning.
Michael: King or two queens?
Dean: Two queens.
Michael: Yeah, I bet.
Dean: What'd you say?
Michael: Nice car.
Young Sam: When's Dad gonna get back?
Young Dean: Tomorrow.
Young Sam: When?
Young Dean: I don't know. He usually comes in late, though. Now, eat your dinner.
Young Sam: I'm sick of Scabetti O's.
Young Dean: Well, you're the one who wanted 'em.
Young Sam: I want Lucky Charms.
Young Dean: There's no more Lucky Charms.
Young Sam: I saw the box.
Young Dean: Okay, maybe there is, but there's only enough left for one bowl, and I haven't had any yet.
Young Sam: Do you want the prize?
Sam: Well, you were right. It wasn't very easy to find, but you were right. A shtriga is a kind of witch. They're Albanian, but legends about 'em date back to ancient Rome. They feed off of spiritus vitae.
Sam: Vitae. It's Latin—it translates to "breath of life". Kind of like your life force or essence.
Dean: Didn't the doctor say the kids' bodies were wearin' out?
Sam: It's a thought. You know, she takes your vitality, maybe your immunity goes to hell, pneumonia takes hold. Anyway, shtrigas can feed off anyone, but they prefer—
Sam: Yeah. Probably because they have stronger life force. And get this—shtrigas are invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man.
Dean: No. That's not right. She's vulnerable when she feeds.
Dean: If you catch her when she's eating, you can blast her with consecrated wrought irons, buckshots, or rounds, I think.
Sam: How do you know that?
Dean: Dad told me. I remember.
Sam: Okay, so, assuming we can kill it when it eats, we still gotta find the thing first, which ain't gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they're not hunting.
Dean: What kind of human disguise?
Sam: Historically, something innocuous—it could be anything. But it's usually a feeble old woman, which may be how the whole witches-as-old-crones legend got started.
Dean: Hang on.
Dean: Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now, these are the houses that have been hit so far, and dead center?
Sam: The hospital.
Dean: The hospital. When we were there, I saw a patient — an old woman.
Sam: An old person, huh?
Sam: In the hospital? Whew. Better call the coast guard.
Dean: Well, listen, smartass, she had an inverted cross hangin' on her wall.
Woman: Who the hell are you?! Who's there? You tryin' to steal my stuff?! They're always stealin' around here.
Sam: No, ma'am, we're maintenance. We're sorry, we thought you were sleeping.
Woman: Oh, nonsense. I was sleepin' with my peepers open! And fix that crucifix, would ya? I've asked four damn times already.
Sam: "I was sleepin' with my peepers open"?
Dean: I almost smoked that old gal, I swear. It's not funny.
Sam: Oh, man, you should've seen your face, Dean.
Dean: Yeah, well, laugh it up, man. We're back to square one.
Michael: My brother's sick.
Dean: The little guy?
Michael: Pneumonia. He's in the hospital. It's my fault.
Dean: Oh, come on, how?
Michael: I should've made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't have gotten pneumonia if the window was latched.
Dean: Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault, okay?
Dean: We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?
Sam: Hey. How's the kid?
Dean: He's not good. Where you at?
Sam: At the library, tryin' to find out as much as I can about this shtriga.
Dean: Yeah? What do you got?
Sam: Well, bad news. I started with Fort Douglas, around the time you said Dad was there.
Sam: Same deal. Before that, there was Ogdenville. Before that, North Haverbrook and Brockway. Every fifteen to twenty years, it hits a new town. Dean, this thing is just gettin' started in Fitchburg. In all these other places, it goes on for months — dozens of kids, before the shtriga finally moves on. Kids just languish in comas, and then they die.
Dean: How far back does this thing go?
Sam: I don't know. The earliest mention I could find was this place called Black River Falls back in the 1890s. Talk about a horror show. Whoa.
Sam: Hold on. I'm lookin' at a photograph right now of a bunch of doctors standing around a kid's bed. One of the doctors is Hydecker.
Sam: And this picture was taken in 1893.
Dean: You sure?
Sam: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.
Dr. Hydecker: So, what's the CDC come up with so far?
Dean: Well, we're still workin' on a few theories. You'll know something as soon as we do.
Dr. Hydecker: Well, nothing's more important to me than these kids.
Dr. Hydecker: Just let me know if I can help.
Dean: I'll do that.
Sam: We should have thought of this before. A doctor's a perfect disguise. You're trusted, you can control the whole thing.
Dean: Huh. That son of a bitch.
Sam: I'm surprised you didn't draw on him right there.
Dean: Yeah, well, first of all, I'm not gonna open fire in a freakin' pediatrics ward.
Sam: Good call.
Dean: Second, it wouldn't have done any good because the bastard's bulletproof unless he's chowin' down on somethin'. And third, I wasn't packin', which is probably a really good thing 'cause I probably would've just burned a clip in him off of principle alone.
Sam: Gettin' wise in your old age, Dean.
Dean: Damn right.
Dean: This shtriga—it works through siblings, right?
Dean: Well, last night…
Sam: It went after Asher.
Dean: So I'm thinkin' tonight, it's probably gonna come after Michael.
Sam: Then, we gotta get him outta here.
Dean: No. No, that'd blow the whole deal.
Sam: Then you wanna use the kid as bait? Are you nuts? No! Forget it, that's out of the question.
Dean: It's not out of the question, Sam, it's the only way. If this thing disappears, it could be years before we get another chance.
Sam: Michael's a kid. And I'm not gonna dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook.
Dean: Dad did not send me here to walk away.
Sam: Send you here? He didn't send you here, he sent us here.
Dean: This isn't about you, Sam! All right, I'm the one that screwed up. It's my fault. There's no tellin' how many kids have gotten hurt because of me.
Sam: What are you saying, Dean? How is it your fault? Dean, you've been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now, talk to me, man. Tell me what's goin' on.
Dean: Fort Douglas, Wisconsin. It was the third night in this crap room, and I was climbin' the walls, man. I needed to get some air.
John: Sammy. Sammy. Sammy! Are you okay?
Young Sam: Dad, what's goin' on?
John: You all right? What happened?
Young Dean: I-I just went out.
Young Dean: J-just for a second. I'm sorry.
John: I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let him out of your sight!
Dean: Dad just grabbed us and booked—dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away. By the time we got back to Fort Douglas, the shtriga disappeared. It was just gone. It never resurfaced until now. Dad never spoke about it again. I didn't ask. But he, uh—he looked at me different, you know—which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn't listen. I almost got you killed.
Sam: You were just a kid.
Dean: Don't—don't. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. And he sent me here to finish it.
Sam: But using Michael? I don't know, Dean. I mean, how about one of us hides under the cover, you know, we'll be the bait?
Dean: No, that won't work. It's gotta get close enough to feed. It'll see us. Believe me, I don't like it. But it's gotta be the kid.
Michael: You're crazy! Just go away, or I'm calling the cops.
Dean: Hang on a second. Just listen to me. You have to believe me, okay? This thing came through your window, and it attacked your brother. Now, I've seen it. I know what it looks like. 'Cause it attacked my brother once, too.
Michael: This thing—is it, like… it has this long, black robe?
Dean: You saw it last night, didn't you?
Michael: I thought I was havin' a nightmare.
Dean: I'd give anything not to tell you this, but sometimes, nightmares are real.
Michael: So, why are you telling me?
Dean: Because we need your help.
Michael: My help?
Dean: We can kill it. Me and him, it's what we do. But we can't do it without you.
Dean: Well, that went crappy. Now what?
Sam: What'd you expect? You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid.
Michael: If you kill it, will Asher get better?
Dean: Honestly, we don't know.
Michael: You said you're a big brother?
Michael: You take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?
Dean: Yeah, I would.
Michael: Me, too. I'll help.
Michael: What do I do?
Dean: You just stay under the covers.
Michael: And if it shows up?
Dean: Well, we'll be right in the next room. We're gonna come in with guns. So, as soon as we do, you roll off this bed and you crawl under it.
Michael: What if you shoot me?
Dean: We won't shoot you. We're good shots. We're not gonna fire until you're clear, okay? Have you heard a gunshot before?
Michael: Like, in the movies?
Dean: It's gonna be a lot louder than in the movies. So, I want you to stay under the bed, cover your ears, and do not come out until we say so, you understand? Michael, you sure you wanna do this? You don't have to, it's okay. I won't be mad.
Michael: No, I'm okay. Just don't shoot me.
Dean: I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. I promise.
Sam: Hey, Dean, I'm sorry.
Dean: For what?
Sam: Well, you know… I've really given you a lot of crap for always followin' Dad's orders. But I know why you do it.
Dean: Oh, God, kill me now.
Dean: You okay, little brother?
Joanna: I've got some good news. Your brother's gonna be fine.
Joanna: Yeah, really. No one can explain it. It's a miracle. They're gonna keep him in overnight for observation, but after that, he's comin' home.
Dean: That's great.
Sam: How are all the other kids doin'?
Joanna: Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checkin' out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward's gonna be like a ghost town.
Sam: Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Hydecker?
Joanna: Oh, he wasn't in today — must've been sick or something.
Dean: Yeah. Yeah, must have.
Sam: It's too bad.
Dean: Oh, they'll be fine.
Sam: No, that's not what I meant. I meant Michael. He will always know there are things out there in the dark. He'll never be the same, you know? Sometimes I wish that…
Sam: I wish I could have that kind of innocence.
Dean: If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could, too.