INT. BUNKER’S DUNGEON
[SAM slaps DEAN]
Sam: Hey … hey, Dean! Come on. [DEAN opens his eyes.] Come back, come back to me. You there? Hey, Dean, you okay?
Dean: Yeah, if you … say that drowning in your own sweat while your blood boils okay?
Sam: Look, I can’t stop doing this.
Dean: Sure you can, you just stop! There’s no point in trying to bring your brother back now.
Sam: Oh, I will bring him back.
Dean: In fact, your a … guilt-ridden, weight-of-the-world bro, has been MIA for quite some time now, but I’m loving the new model. Lean, mean Dean.
Dean: You noticed that I tried to get as far away from you as possible, away from your wining, your complaining. I chose the King of Hell over you. Maybe I was just tired of babysitting you, or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire since forever. Or, maybe … maybe there’s a fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for you. That your very existence sucked the life out of my life!
Sam: This isn’t my brother talking.
Dean: You never had a brother! Just an excuse for not manning up, but, guess what, I quit.
Sam: No. No, you don’t. You don’t get to quit. We don’t get to quit in this family. This family is all we have ever had!
Dean: Well then we got nothing.
Sam: Would you say that to dad?
Dean: Dad? Oh, there’s a prize. There’s a man who brainwashed us into wasting our lives fighting his losing battle. [SAM picks up a syringe of human blood.] Oh, ooh, is this you manning up?
Sam: This is me yanking your lame ass out of the fire. [SAM injects DEAN in his arm.] You’re welcome.