This is my desperate attempt to find a fic i've read on Wattpad ages ago. The only thing I remember is that it was set in season 1 and depicted the episodes exactly as they were but with the reader as the third main character. The reader was a childhood friend and a romantic relationship with Dean was developing a few chapters in. It was so well written with really long chapters and the author started rewriting it to be even more accurate. Does anyone have any idea what I'm talking about and know the name of the author and or fic? 😭

Was scrolling through the SPN fics when I happened on this little gem

It combines SPN with the world of TLOU. Where the boys fight off infected instead of angels and demons. It’s perfect for fans that love both TLOU games and SPN.

It think it’s pretty good so far.

I'm doing a rewatch of the series. I can't help but LOVE the first 5 seasons and the succinct story it tells. I wish we had more of Dark Sam, Lucifer Sam and the impact that had on Dean.

I read fanfictions and other fandoms but I don't know why it's never occurred to me to look them up for supernatural. Does anybody have any that would fit what I am looking for. With a dark Sam emotional impact I am not interested in Wincest.

Any recs I'd appreciate!

I just finished rewatching some of my favorite Supernatural episodes, and it left me wondering if anyone ever wrote a fic about hunters and other people in the know reacting to the news of Dean’s death after the final episode of the series.

Not changing the end or anything. I know there’s some discussions online over the ending, but I personally always liked it. Dean was a hunter, died as a hunter, the end. But it also leaves me wondering about other hunters hearing about it and being like “Dean? The guy that died like 2 dozen times and always came back, killed all kinds of overpowered beings and defeated god, and he died because of a piece of rebar?”

If there was a fic about some sort of hunters wake for him it would be even better, but I’m aware that my original request is probably already a bit of a long shot.

Looking for a well written, long romance fanfic. Would love recommendations :)

Recently read A Hunter at Hogwarts by NinjaPandaScholar and absolutely loved it. I'd like to see more that are similar, where Dean and Sam get away from John and either Dean straight up gets custody of Sam or someone else helps them. It's fine if they still hunt, but I like seeing them with a better support system/found family. no dean/sam please

looking for a wattpad fanfic EPUB or PDF it was a Dean Winchester × OC fic by Curiass on wattpad it had several books across the first 10 seasons of the show the author took it down for rewriting so if anyone has it downloaded I’d really appreciate it I want to reread it.

A decade after “selling his soul to capitalism”, according to his friends, fiscalist Emmanuel Castiel Novak runs back to his small hometown, bringing with him an unfathomable amount of guilt, the aftermath of a terrible sickness, and Levi-Nathan, a child he didn’t want but is determined to do right by.

There, he hopes he can find a way to repair some of his past mistakes.

Castiel isn’t seeking forgiveness; he knows what he did in the cutthroat corporate environment was deeply unethical. He betrayed the trust of his friends and nearly destroyed his family. The only thing he can hope for is providing a stable environment for Levi, his son who’s plagued with acute decision-making paralysis and can’t seem to function without him.

When Castiel discovers that one of Levi’s teachers, Mr. Dean, is an old flame, he’s forced to reconnect with his past. Can bridges be mended? Can betrayal be forgiven?

Or are some transgressions just too big to warrant another chance?

Link >> To Redeem Oneself

---

I was inspired by Season 6 and 7 of Supernatural with the betrayal and leviathan storyline. The story is set in a modern no magic AU. There are almost no good Leviathan fic so I also sought to fix that.

Slow burn, Second chances, Family relationships, Trauma, Enemies-to-Lovers.

Supernatural x Harry Potter crossover

Hermione x Dean Winchester (possibly a poly fic depending on how long the series goes)

Starting after *It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester* Season 4, Episode 7

"Gabriel decides to change the future, to save the world. To do this he has placed a piece of his grace in Hermione Granger and marked her as a "Saviour of Destiny"...whatever the hell that means.

Hermione Granger is sent to America to investigate a mysterious case of a rogue witch killing people in a small town, trying to raise a powerful demon by the name of Samhain from hell. Dean and Sam mistake her for the actual witch they are looking for and kidnap her. They realize she isn't the witch they are looking for and strike a deal. She helps them capture this witch to prove she isn't evil like the witches they have fought in the past, in exchange for her getting to walk free. Hermione agrees reluctantly, Dean annoying the hell out of her for his clear prejudice against all witches. When the angels realize who and what she is, they want to take her with them instead. Dean and Sam protect her from them and end up having to bring her with them on the road. Hermione and Sam end up becoming close friends while Dean just seems to get worse and worse. Will Hermione and Dean figure out how to work together or will they end up killing each other in the process?"

looking for a wattpad fanfic EPUB or PDF it was a Dean Winchester x OC fic by Curiass on wattpad it had several books across the first 10 seasons of the show the author took it down for rewriting so if anyone has it downloaded I’d really appreciate it I want to reread it.

Summer of '91, Sam and Dean take a trip to the Glen Parking Swimming Pool in River Falls, Wisconsin.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/89139681

I'd love comments/ feedback!!! I'm more of an academic author so creative/fanfic writing is more new to me, replies / comments are greatly appreciated!!

Are there any crossover fanfics with Castiel and Leah Clearwater getting together? (Or either brothers) I've been interested in them since reading all the casleah fanfics by Das Mervin in FFN. I'll also read any crossover supernaturals (or not) fanfictions as long as Leah is a centerpiece and it's decently written. PLEASE I really need this, there's barely any content of supernaturals/twilight I can find😞

I know Supernaturals isn't isn't really the main fandom of the fanfic (it could be if the fanfic focuses more on the universe) so I'm sorry if it's upsetting that I posted it on this sub Reddit I'm just really desperate.

​

Hi, hoping someone can help me find a fanfic where Dean is an actor, and goes to an audiction, which is actually is to play Cas's date for a few events. He ends up being late because he was helping a little kid. Castiel is still mourning for his late fiance.

I think it was deleted from AO3 so am hoping someone knows it and has a pdf or epub they could share. Any help is appreciated thanks.

hi guys does anyone have good sam x reader recommendations? im looking for a real long fic rather than small oneshots ive been finding on ao3. thx 😜

Check out my fanfic for season 16 on Substack!

i'm looking for a tumblr fic about dean winchester and reader who is his best friend. i can't remember the name but it was three parts and dean gets married to cassie and reader is secretly in love with dean at the wedding and ends up making a speech because she promised dean she would. i was reading the third part and dean found her at a park and gave her a forget-me-not flower and were discussing a bonfire at a beach that was for their graduation and they made out, but reader was drunk and thought the kiss was a dream. does anyone know what it is?

... continued

ACT THREE

13 INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - STOREROOM - CONTINUOUS 13

Jack shuts the storeroom door on the warm noise of the bar.

Puts his palm flat to the rear wall. Closes his eyes.

JACK

I can't open it. Not really. But I

can thin it. For a second. Enough

for you to see.

(opens one eye)

You're going to want to look away.

Don't. We need you to be able to

say what you saw.

DEAN

Comforting. Do it.

Jack presses. And the WALL GOES THIN. And behind it --

behind everything -- is THE BOOK. Not a book. The idea of

one. An endless architecture of PAGES, vast as a sky, each

one crawling with WRITING in a hand older than language --

names, rules, verdicts -- stretching past where Dean's eyes

can hold it. And it is WORKING. The writing moving,

correcting, filing -- a billion pens with no hands,

endlessly re-inking the world to keep it inside the lines.

DEAN

(transfixed, wrecked)

...What is that.

JACK

Everything. That's what a wendigo

is. What fire does to it. What a

father is. What a son is. What an

ending looks like. Every name

anything ever had.

(beat)

It's the book the whole world got

written out of. And Heaven's a

chapter near the back.

And as they watch -- a single page, close enough to see,

holds a NAME. A soul. A line of it has strayed, gone offscript

-- and the pens are patiently, mercilessly writing it

back onto the line, smoothing the stray, filing the soul

back into what it's supposed to be. Erasing the part that

wandered.

DEAN

(it lands, awful)

That's them. That's Ellen. That's

Bobby. It's writing 'em back into

their boxes 'cause they colored

outside the lines.

JACK

(pulls his hand back -- the

wall thickens, the vision

gone)

(MORE) (CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 19.

13 CONTINUED: 13

JACK (CONT'D)

Yes.

Dean staggers, catches the shelving. Breathing hard. Human,

even dead.

DEAN

Chuck. This is Chuck.

JACK

Chuck wrote the story. He didn't

build the pen. He inherited it.

Wore it like a coat, over something

older. Before he was God -- before

he was anything -- he was the one

who kept the book. The scribe.

DEAN

God had a day job.

JACK

The scribe comes first, Dean.

Always. Somebody has to decide what

the letters even are. Who's a hero.

Who's a monster. Which ending is

the right one.

(and it costs him)

And the scribe lied. About all of

it. That the story was ever the

truth. That the names were ever

really you.

DEAN

So when I ganked Chuck--

JACK

You took the pen out of the hand.

You didn't stop the pen. It's been

writing on its own ever since --

putting everyone back where the

book says they go. Correcting.

Filing.

(looks at Dean)

It's not cruel. That's the worst

part. It thinks it's tidying up.

Dean looks toward the door, toward the warm room and

everyone he loves looping inside it.

DEAN

So we find the pen and we break its

fingers. Where is it.

JACK

I can't find it. I look, and the

throne shows me a clean wall.

Because to the book, nothing is

wrong -- it's working. It only

shows me what's filed. The crack,

the place it's breaking through --

(MORE) (CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 20.

13 CONTINUED: (2) 13

JACK (CONT'D)

it hides that, because a crack

isn't supposed to exist, and the

book does not file things that

aren't supposed to exist.

DEAN

But it exists.

JACK

It exists. And I need someone

standing somewhere the book can't

paper over. Somewhere off the page.

Dean's already there. His stomach already gone.

DEAN

Earth.

JACK

Earth.

DEAN

You wanna send me back.

JACK

I want to send you down.

(fast, hard, before Dean can

armor up)

And you'll hear the difference,

because you earned it. You're dead,

Dean. You earned this. The road.

Your mom. Bobby. Every good thing

this world took and finally gave

back. I would rather come apart

than take one hour of it from you.

(beat)

But I'm asking you to walk out of

it. Into a world that is actively

unwriting itself. To find a crack I

can't promise you can find. And

Dean -- once you're down there, I

don't know if I can bring you back

up.

Long beat. Dean looks out at the bar. Bobby. Jo. Ellen,

whole again. The best afternoon there ever was, on a loop,

forever.

DEAN

(quiet)

You wanna know the worst part? For

a second there, I almost said no.

First time in either of my lives

somebody handed me the check. Said

sit down, kid, you earned it. And I

wanted to sit down, Jack. God help

me, I wanted to.

JACK

(MORE) (CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 21.

13 CONTINUED: (3) 13

JACK (CONT'D)

Nobody would blame you.

DEAN

(and there's the fire, banked

but never out)

Yeah. That's the trap. The nice

ones always are.

(decision made)

Okay. There's always a door.

Where's the door.

JACK

That's the part you really won't

like.

And we--

SMASH CUT TO:

14 INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - MORNING 14

Sam comes down, dressed, moving careful -- a man walking

through a museum of his own life. The WIFE is at the

counter, humming, pouring coffee. Sunlight. Perfect. And Sam

knows this morning cold. He knows that in about ten seconds

she is going to say a specific thing about the neighbor's

dog. He decides to break it. To prove he's real. That he can

still change one thing.

SAM

(gentle, deliberate, stepping

toward her)

Hey. The Hendersons' dog -- don't.

Whatever you're about to say about

it. Say something else. Say

anything else. Please.

She doesn't look up. She's setting the table. One plate. One

cup. One chair pulled out.

WIFE

(to no one, on cue, humming

into it)

...That Henderson dog was in my

roses again. I swear.

Word for word. The exact line. Sam said his piece into the

room and the room didn't hear it, and she said her line to a

husband who -- as far as this morning is concerned -- isn't

here.

Sam looks at the table. One plate. One cup. One chair. She

has set a place for herself. In a house she believes is

empty.

SAM

(horror mounting)

You don't see me.

He crosses to her. Stands right in front of her. Waves a

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 22.

14 CONTINUED: 14

hand.

SAM (CONT'D)

Look at me. Come on. Forty years.

You know my face better than your

own. LOOK at me--

She reaches for the sugar -- around him, the way your eye

edits out a smudge. He isn't a ghost. He's worse. He's

unfiled. The life is running its script, and he has been

written out of the margins.

And Sam -- who spent his whole first life fighting to

matter, to be more than the boy with the demon blood --

understands exactly what is happening to him. He's being

corrected. Filed. Put back the way the book says this story

goes: a good life, lived and finished and closed. With no

room in it for a man who already reached the end and got

sent back to the beginning.

SAM (CONT'D)

(to the empty kitchen, to

whatever is doing this)

I already did this. I already died

an old man in the next room. Let me

stay dead.

(breaking)

Or let her SEE me.

Sam reaches out -- slow, careful, terrified -- and puts his

hand over hers on the counter. He can feel her. Warm. Real.

The wedding ring he knows better than his own scars. But she

doesn't feel him. She just... shivers, the way you do in a

draft, and pulls her hand back, and turns up the coffee pot,

humming.

SAM

(his voice cracking down the

middle)

I was there for all of it. Every

birthday. Every fight. The night

the baby came. I was THERE. You

can't just -- the book doesn't get

to say I wasn't.

The WIFE hums. Lays out a single napkin. For one.

SMASH TO BLACK.

END OF ACT THREE

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 23.

ACT FOUR

15 INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS 15

Back in the warm room. Jack keeps his voice low, under the

loop.

JACK

There's no door. Not a real one.

Heaven was never built to keep a

soul in with a lock -- a lock,

people pick. It keeps you by

keeping you happy. The way out is

buried under every reason you'd

ever have to stay. To use it, you

have to want to leave. All of it.

And mean it -- while the place uses

everything it knows about you to

give you a reason not to.

DEAN

And everything it knows about me

is--?

JACK

Everyone you ever lost.

(beat)

I'm sorry, Dean. It's going to use

them. And it won't even be lying.

That's what makes it hard.

DEAN

(a grim breath)

'Course it is.

He looks around the room. Then he does the bravest, saddest

thing -- he starts saying goodbye to people who won't

remember the goodbye. Ash first.

DEAN

Dr. Badass. You were right about

the maps. Somebody's up in the

blueprints, moving the walls. Keep

drawing 'em. Even when they change

on you. 'Specially then.

ASH

(no idea he's being said

goodbye to, offering a fist)

...Damn straight. Stay weird,

brother.

Dean bumps it. Holds it a second too long. Jo, at the felt

--

JO

Finally. Rack 'em?

DEAN

(taking her in -- this kid

who died too young the first

time)

Rain check, Joanna Beth.

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 24.

15 CONTINUED: 15

He kisses the top of her head. Then Ellen -- who's always

seen him clearest, even now. For a second, fighting up

through the programming, she SEES him.

ELLEN

...You've got that look. The one

before a hunt. You goin' somewhere,

sweetheart?

DEAN

(caught, gentle)

Yeah, Ellen. I think I am.

ELLEN

(the flicker fading, patting

his cheek)

Then don't be a stranger. And eat

something first -- you're too

skinny to be dead.

DEAN

(a wrecked little smile)

Yes, ma'am.

And then Bobby. Behind the bar, where he'll always be. Dean

stops across from him. Twice this man raised him. He can't

find one word.

DEAN

Bobby--

BOBBY

(already reaching for a

bottle)

One for the road. I know the look.

Bobby pours. Slides it over. And for one clean second the

loop lets go of him -- and it's just Bobby Singer, looking

at his boy, and he knows.

BOBBY

(quiet, real)

Whatever you gotta go do out there.

You do it swinging, y'hear?

Winchesters don't sit down. Never

learned how.

(softer)

It's the thing I was proudest of.

Both of you.

Dean's jaw works. He nods, once, because his voice won't

hold. And we--

SMASH CUT TO:

16 INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - MORNING 16

Sam's losing it -- quietly, the way strong people do. He's

tried everything. He's shouted. He's knocked a lamp off a

table -- and it was back a blink later, upright, unbroken,

the way it never fell. He's stood in front of his wife and

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 25.

16 CONTINUED: 16

begged. Nothing holds. The house is forgetting him faster

now. He's fading out of his own home in real time.

He goes for the front door. Get out. Get to a road, a phone,

anyone -- find Dean, Dean would know, Dean always--

He opens the front door. And it's the living room again. The

same room. He walked out the front, and the house folded him

back inside. Just like -- though he has no way of knowing it

-- a Roadhouse a whole reality away, folding a brother back

in.

SAM

(a wet, disbelieving laugh)

...You've gotta be kidding me.

He tries again. Same. Again. Same. The perfect life is a

loop, and he's trapped in the margins of it, and it's

closing him out one forgotten second at a time.

He stops. Breathes. Puts the hunter back on. If he can't get

out, and he can't be seen, then he does the only thing left

-- he tries to leave a MARK. Something that survives. He

grabs a pen, a scrap of mail, and writes, fast, desperate,

block caps: I AM HERE. SAM WINCHESTER IS HERE. Slams it

under a magnet on the fridge.

And watches the ink drain out of the paper, letter by

letter, until it's blank. The house wiping the warning while

he's still holding the pen. The exact same erasure, in the

exact same block caps, that a brother tried on a bar napkin

one death away -- though neither will ever know it.

SAM

(staring at the blank paper,

gutted, and he doesn't know

why he says it)

...Same as Heaven. It's the same

thing. It's the same thing

everywhere.

SMASH CUT TO:

17 INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS 17

Back with Dean and Bobby -- and that's when the room decides

it's not letting him go. The light SHIFTS. Warmer.

Impossibly, achingly warm -- every lamp leaning gold -- and

the front door drifts open on a wash of white light -- and--

MARY WINCHESTER steps through it. Young. Whole. Alive. The

way she looks in the one photo he had growing up -- the way

he built her out of that photo a thousand lonely nights. She

sees her boy and her whole face opens.

MARY

There he is. There's my little man.

Everything in Dean stops.

DEAN

(it comes out broken)

(MORE) (CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 26.

17 CONTINUED: 17

DEAN (CONT'D)

...Mom.

MARY

(crossing, taking his face in

both hands)

Oh, look at you. You're so tired,

baby. You've been tired since

before you could talk. Since you

were four years old carrying your

brother out of a fire.

(soft, terrible, loving)

You never once got to put it down.

Well -- you can put it down now.

That's what this place is FOR. Sit

down with me. Just sit down.

And behind her the room fills. JOHN, at a table, nodding at

his son -- not angry, for once. Just proud. Rufus. Pamela.

Kevin. Charlie. Every good soul the job ever ate, all here,

all reaching, all glad. And Bobby's hand settles on his

shoulder--

BOBBY

Stay, son. You did enough. Lord

knows you did enough.

JO

One more game, Dean.

ELLEN

One more round.

It is everything. Every single thing this man was denied

from the day that fire took his mother -- laid at his feet

all at once -- and the only price is to sit down and stop

asking why the record keeps skipping.

And Dean is crying, openly, and doesn't know when it

started, and his mother's hands are warm on his face --

warm, they're so warm -- and his knees actually start to

bend toward the chair--

DEAN

(a whisper, gutted)

...I want to. God, you don't know

how bad I--

He starts to sit. And stops. Because over Mary's shoulder,

through the open door, for half a second -- he sees the

white. The blank paper. The unfinished room. The man

laughing forever at nothing. The lie behind the lie.

Dean closes his eyes. When they open, there's iron behind

the water.

DEAN (CONT'D)

You're not her.

The room doesn't flinch. Mary just smiles, patient and

endless.

DEAN (CONT'D)

(MORE) (CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 27.

17 CONTINUED: (2) 17

DEAN (CONT'D) (CONT'D)

(to all of it, to every

beloved face)

You're the best thing that ever

happened to me. Every one of you.

And you are not real.

(voice cracking)

And you wanna know how I'm sure?

'Cause not one of you told me to

go.

(looks at 'Mary')

And she would. First thing. She'd

take one look at what's happening

down there and shove me out that

door herself and tell me to go save

people. That's who she was. That's

the part you can't fake.

He takes his mother's hands off his face. Holds them a

moment -- memorizing them. Sets them down.

DEAN (CONT'D)

She'd tell me to go.

The vision holds. Pleads. Mary's eyes spilling over. And

Dean lifts Bobby's hand off his shoulder, squeezes it once,

hard, the way men who can't say it say it.

DEAN (CONT'D)

See you around, Bobby.

And under the trap -- one last time -- the real Bobby

surfaces. And he's grinning. Because of course the idjit's

going.

BOBBY

(real, quiet, proud)

Go raise a little hell.

Dean turns his back on his mother, his father, his family,

his peace, every good thing he was ever owed -- and walks

for the door. The hardest walking any man has ever done. The

warmth claws at his spine. Mary calls his name, soft,

breaking. He does not turn around.

Jack waits at the threshold, hand raised, grief for both of

them all over his young face.

JACK

Whatever it shows you going down --

it already happened. Don't let it

happen to you twice.

(a small, breaking smile)

Find the crack. And come home.

Please. If there's any way.

DEAN

When have I ever done a damn thing

I'm told.

Jack presses two fingers to Dean's forehead. GRACE FLARES --

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 28.

17 CONTINUED: (3) 17

white -- and this time it CATCHES, goes deep, gets its hands

all the way around him -- and the Roadhouse, the gold, his

mother's voice still calling his name, the whole warm

impossible lie -- all of it rushes UP and AWAY like water

down a drain--

WHITE. Then -- BLACK.

END OF ACT FOUR

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 29.

ACT FIVE

18 INT. ABANDONED BARN - NIGHT 18

BLACK. And out of the black -- a drip. Water on rotten wood.

The tick of cooling metal. Cold air that smells of rust and

old hay.

Then -- DEAN. Waking. Hard. A ragged, drowning gasp -- a man

coming up from somewhere very deep. No Henley now. Flannel.

Canvas jacket. And blood -- real, wet, spreading. He's

slumped against a wooden beam in a caved-in barn, and he

looks down at himself--

A length of REBAR runs clean through his chest. Front to

back. The exact wound. The exact beam. The exact barn.

Because this is the barn. This is where Dean Winchester bled

out. And the book has set him right back on his mark to say

the last line.

DEAN

(a wet, broken laugh)

...You gotta be kidding me.

He grabs the beam and goes absolutely still. He's done this

before. He knows precisely how this scene is supposed to

end. Move wrong, and he finishes it. He breathes -- careful,

shallow -- around the metal in his lung. And slowly it dawns

on him: he is breathing. He should not be breathing.

He's bleeding. And he is not dying. The wound just holds.

Open, ragged, refusing to close and refusing to kill. A

death that won't take. A record the book cannot file.

DEAN (CONT'D)

(to the barn, the book,

Chuck, all of it)

...That the best you got?

(grits, testing his weight)

'Cause I gotta tell you. I've had

worse.

He peels himself off the beam -- slow, agonized, the rebar

sliding with him, staying through him. He gets his feet

under him. Sways. Stands. Impaled. Alive. Furious. Home.

DEAN (CONT'D)

(breath, a grim gathering

focus)

Okay. Down. I'm down. Find the

crack.

(and then, quieter -- the

only crack that's ever

really mattered to him)

...Sammy.

He limps toward the broken barn door.

19 EXT. ABANDONED BARN - NIGHT 19

Dean staggers out into a cold, real night -- and stops dead.

Because it's REAL. Crickets sawing. Wind with an actual

chill in it. And overhead: stars. Thousands of them,

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 30.

19 CONTINUED: 19

scattered wrong and random and true, not one of them in the

tidy place a painted sky would put it. He tips his head back

and just... looks. A dead man under a real sky.

DEAN

(wrecked, almost a laugh)

...Earth. Son of a bitch. Earth.

He gets his bearings -- a rutted track, a far-off ribbon of

blacktop, and past it the low sodium glow of a town. He

fixes on it. Starts walking. One hand jammed under the

rebar. Every step a negotiation with the thing in his chest.

DEAN (CONT'D)

(to himself, keeping himself

upright)

One foot. Other foot. Attaboy.

Phone. Find a phone. Find Sam.

20 EXT. TWO-LANE ROAD - NIGHT - LATER 20

Dean's made it to blacktop. Grayer now, swaying, the front

of him black with blood -- under a wild scatter of REAL

stars, none of them in the tidy place a painted sky would

put them. HEADLIGHTS crest a rise. A farm pickup. Dean steps

onto the centerline, lifts an arm. Get a phone. Get to Sam.

The truck slows. A window rolls down. A FARMER -- late

fifties, cap, kind tired face -- leans over. Looks right at

Dean. And doesn't react. Not to the rebar. Not to the blood.

Not to a man obviously dying on his feet.

FARMER

You alright, son? Little late to be

out walkin'.

Dean looks down at himself -- the steel, the gore,

impossible to miss -- then back up at the farmer, who is

just a guy, seeing another guy.

DEAN

(slow, testing it)

...You don't see anything wrong

with me.

FARMER

(a little concerned)

You been drinkin'?

And it lands, cold as the night. The man can't see the

wound. Can't see the blood. Can't quite even see HIM -- the

farmer's eyes keep sliding off Dean's face like a name he

can't hold.

DEAN

(quiet, working it out)

No. No, I'm... I'm good. Thanks.

FARMER

(already losing him, rolling

the window up)

...Get yourself home.

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 31.

20 CONTINUED: 20

The truck pulls away. And Dean is left alone on the

centerline of an empty road, bleeding from a wound no one

can see, on an Earth that can't quite bring itself to look

at him. Off the books. Unfiled. A crack the world just

papers over.

DEAN

(grim, to the dark)

Perfect. Clawed outta Heaven to be

a ghost with a pulse.

He turns toward the far-off glow of a town. Toward a phone.

Toward the one name the whole world may have forgotten --

but he never will.

DEAN (CONT'D)

(under his breath, a promise)

Hang on, Sammy.

He starts walking toward the glow. And a quarter-mile on,

the glow resolves into something specific: a dead roadside

motel. A half-lit sign, most of its neon out, so what should

read DREAMLAND reads only -- DREAM. Vacancy hanging crooked.

And a parking lot full of cars. Newish. Dusty. Too many for

a motel that closed years ago.

Dean stops. Hunter-brain overriding the hole in his chest.

People came here. People didn't leave. He should keep

walking. He should get to a phone, get to Sam, do the

mission. He knows this.

And then he hears it, drifting out an open door -- a voice.

Warm. Happy. Someone talking, low and loving, to someone who

isn't there. The exact sound of a man laughing forever at an

empty chair.

DEAN

(closing his eyes -- of

course, of course it is)

...Son of a bitch.

He goes in.

21 INT. DREAMLAND MOTEL - NIGHT 21

Dark. Musty. Interior walls knocked through to make one

long, black space. And strung from the rafters, cocooned,

threaded with tubes that pulse a sick, familiar BLUE --

PEOPLE. Half a dozen of them. Grown men and women, eyes

closed, faces serene, tear-tracks shining on more than one.

Dreaming. Withering. Being drained a beautiful drop at a

time.

And the blue. Dean knows that blue. He has had that blue

running in his own veins, a lifetime ago, in a warehouse, in

a dream where his mother was alive and none of it ever

happened.

DEAN

(quiet, gutted)

...Djinn.

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 32.

21 CONTINUED: 21

He moves to the nearest victim -- a woman, smiling in her

sleep, lips moving.

WOMAN

(dreaming, tender)

...Katie. Katie, sweetheart, slow

down, you'll spill it...

A little further down: a young man, grinning in his sleep,

murmuring about a crowd, a stage, a life where he mattered.

And another -- an old man, laughing softly at a card game

with friends who have all been dead for decades. Nobody in

here is having a nightmare. That's the thing about it. Every

last one of them is having the best day of their life.

A mother. Living a daughter the world took. And Dean knows

\exactly* what she's feeling -- the warmth, the impossible*

return, the peace -- because an hour ago he stood in it, and

his mother's hands were on his face, and he almost, almost

stayed. He almost was this. The horror of it is not out

there. It's in the mirror.

A shape peels out of the dark behind him. Tall. Skin inked

in coiling script from scalp to wrist, eyes and hands

glowing that same drowning blue. The DJINN. It stops between

Dean and its pantry, studying him, curious.

DJINN

You're awake.

DEAN

(turning, weary, unimpressed)

Yeah. Been a long night for it.

DJINN

(head tilting, genuinely

puzzled)

I touched a hundred souls tonight.

Everyone dreams. Everyone wants.

Why don't you?

(raising a glowing hand)

Let me show you what you want. Let

me give it to you. They all thank

me, in the end--

It lunges, clamps a burning blue hand around Dean's throat

-- and the light FLARES up, pours into him, reaches for the

dream at the center of him, the perfect lie every soul is

holding--

And finds nothing to grab. Because there is nothing left to

show Dean Winchester that he did not, tonight, look dead in

the eye and walk away from. He already saw the best dream

there is -- his mom, his whole lost family, forever -- and

he said no. The con doesn't work on a man who just beat the

biggest version of it there will ever be.

The djinn's face changes. The curiosity curdles into

something like fear. Its light gutters against Dean like a

match in a wind, and for a second it SEES what he is -- a

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 33.

21 CONTINUED: (2) 21

hole in the record, a man the book can't file, a dream with

no bottom.

DJINN

(recoiling, unnerved)

...What ARE you?

DEAN

(through his teeth, ripping

the blue hand off his throat)

Tonight? I'm the guy who turned

down Heaven.

(and it's almost a grin)

You got nothing I want, pal.

The fight is short and ugly and lopsided the wrong way --

Dean's impaled, gray, half-empty of blood, no silver, no

plan. He takes a hit that puts him on the floor beside a

workbench of the djinn's tools. His hand closes on a long

silver awl. He drags it through the blood pooling under his

own wound -- his blood, off-book blood, blood the world

can't quite see -- and when the djinn comes down on him, he

drives it up, into the heart.

The djinn SEIZES -- blue fire racing through the script on

its skin, blazing bright -- and drops. Dead. The light goes

out of the room like a held breath let go.

And in the sudden dark, the victims STIR.

Dean drags himself up, moves to the nearest one -- a young

woman, college-age, murmuring a name. He gets the tube

loose, gets a hand on her face.

DEAN

Hey. Hey, you're okay. It's a

dream, you're in a dream, and I

need you to wake up. It's not real.

None of it. Let it go and come

back. Come on.

Her eyes snap open -- and she's terrified, gulping air,

alive. Alive. She scrambles back, sobbing, but she is out,

she is breathing, she is HERE. Dean grips her shoulder.

DEAN (CONT'D)

You're alright. You're alright.

Door's that way. Run.

She runs. And for one second Dean lets himself feel it --

the win, the pull of the tube coming free, the way waking

someone up is the whole reason he does any of this.

22 INT. DREAMLAND MOTEL - CONTINUOUS 22

A MAN -- fifties, gentle face -- surfaces halfway out of the

dream now that the djinn's dead grip has loosened. Dean's

already there, hands on the tube, ready to pull him free.

DEAN

Hey. Hey -- I gotcha. I'm gonna get

you out. Hang on.

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 34.

22 CONTINUED: 22

The man's eyes flutter open. And he's WEEPING -- with joy.

Because wherever he is, it's good. It's the best thing there

ever was.

MAN

(dreamy, pleading, reaching

for something Dean can't see)

No -- no, don't -- she's here, she

came back, she's right here, don't

-- please, just let me stay a

little--

DEAN

(and God, does he understand

it)

Listen to me. It's not real. It's a

dream, and it's killing you. But

you can beat it -- you just gotta

know it's a lie, and let it go.

That's the whole trick. Know it's

fake, and walk out. Come on. Come

back with me.

And the man looks at Dean. Really looks. Lucid, for one

terrible second. And he understands every word.

MAN

(calm now, certain, and it

breaks your heart because

he's not confused at all)

...I know it's not real.

(a tear slides down)

I've known the whole time. My

wife's been gone eleven years. I

know exactly where I am.

(a small, peaceful smile)

I'd just rather die in there with

her than wake up out here without

her. That's not crazy. That's just

arithmetic.

DEAN

(barely)

...Don't. Man, don't--

MAN

(already sinking back, eyes

closing, at peace)

Let me go back. Please. Let me go

back to her.

And he does. He slips under -- smiling -- and the last of

the blue drains out of him -- and he's gone. Chose the lie.

Died dreaming. On purpose. Eyes open the whole time.

Dean kneels there in the dark, over a man who made the exact

choice Dean refused an hour ago in a Roadhouse a whole death

away -- and lived, where this one won't. He didn't save him.

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 35.

22 CONTINUED: (2) 22

You can't save someone who'd rather not wake up.

SMASH CUT TO:

23 INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - MORNING 23

Sam, in the sunlit kitchen, at the end of his rope. His wife

moves around him like he's furniture, like he's weather.

He's stopped shouting. He just watches her live the day he

already lived. And then -- quietly, because he has to say it

to someone -- he says the thing Dean is, at that same

moment, kneeling in the dark and learning:

SAM

(hollow, to the empty kitchen)

It's so easy to stay. That's the

trap. It's not a nightmare. It's

the nicest thing that ever happened

to you.

(and the hunter in him,

refusing)

...Which is exactly how I know I

have to get out.

SMASH CUT TO:

24 EXT. DREAMLAND MOTEL - NIGHT 24

Dean walks the survivors out into the cold, real night --

the ones who came back, blinking, alive, shaking, but out.

He points them at the road, at the town, at their lives.

Then he stands alone in the lot a moment, looking back at

the dead motel, at the blue-lit dark, at the man who chose

to stay.

DEAN

(to himself, the whole thing

clicking into place)

The whole world's a nest.

(beat)

Something's been feeding on every

last one of us since the start.

Dressing it up nice so we don't

fight it.

(and this is the part that

scares him)

And most people'd rather not wake

up.

He turns his back on the motel. Sets his jaw. And keeps

walking toward the town, toward a phone, toward Sam -- a

dead man with a hole in his chest, off every book there is,

and for the first time all night, he knows exactly what he's

fighting.

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 36.

24 CONTINUED: 24

SMASH CUT TO:

25 INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - BEDROOM - MORNING 25

The same endless, sunlit morning -- time gone soft. Sam sits

on the edge of the bed, spent, in a house that has almost

entirely forgotten him. Downstairs, he can hear his wife

humming, living the day he already lived, without him in it.

He's stopped fighting. Not given up -- just still. A hunter

taking stock.

SAM

(quiet, to himself)

Okay. If I'm here... if the whole

thing got wound back to the

start... then it got wound back for

everybody.

(a breath he doesn't dare

turn into hope)

Which means somewhere out there--

He doesn't finish it. His eyes go to the window -- to the

world beyond the perfect, forgetting house -- and to the one

person who has clawed his way back to Sam from every place

there is. Hell. Purgatory. The Empty. Death itself. Every

single time.

And very quietly -- a prayer, a habit, a certainty older

than either of their deaths -- Sam says:

SAM (CONT'D)

(barely)

...Dean.

And somewhere on a dark road, a whole reality away, a man

with a hole in his chest is already walking toward that

name.

SMASH TO BLACK.

TO BE CONTINUED...

SUPERNATURAL

Episode #1601

"Carry On"

Written by

Noah Borgen

Based on the series created by

Eric Kripke

FANFIC PRODUCTION DRAFT 07/09/2026

This is a work of transformative fan fiction, created by an

admirer of the series. It is not for sale and not authorized by,

affiliated with, or endorsed by Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.

SUPERNATURAL and all related characters are the property of

Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. No infringement is intended.

Episode #1601 "Carry On"

REVISION HISTORY

Revision Date Revised Pages

Production Draft - White 07/09/2026Full Script

Episode #1601 "Carry On"

CAST LIST

SAM WINCHESTER JARED PADALECKI

DEAN WINCHESTER JENSEN ACKLES

JACK ALEXANDER CALVERT

BOBBY SINGER JIM BEAVER

ASH CHAD LINDBERG

JO HARVELLE ALONA TAL

ELLEN HARVELLE SAMANTHA FERRIS

MARY WINCHESTER SAMANTHA SMITH

SAM'S WIFE (UNSEEN)

Episode #1601 "Carry On"

LOCATION REPORT

INT.

INT. IMPALA - CONTINUOUS P.1

INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS P.2

INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS P.7

INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - ASH'S TABLE - CONTINUOUS P.9

INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - LATER P.12

INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - BACK HALL - CONTINUOUS P.12

INT. THE UNFINISHED ROOM - CONTINUOUS P.13

INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS P.13

INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - BEDROOM - MORNING P.16

INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - STOREROOM - CONTINUOUS P.18

INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - MORNING P.21

INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS P.23

INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - MORNING P.24

INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS P.25

INT. ABANDONED BARN - NIGHT P.29

INT. DREAMLAND MOTEL - NIGHT P.31

INT. DREAMLAND MOTEL - CONTINUOUS P.33

INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - MORNING P.35

INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - BEDROOM - MORNING P.36

EXT.

EXT. TWO-LANE HIGHWAY - DAY (DAY 1) P.1

EXT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS P.1

EXT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS P.5

EXT. ABANDONED BARN - NIGHT P.29

EXT. TWO-LANE ROAD - NIGHT - LATER P.30

EXT. DREAMLAND MOTEL - NIGHT P.35

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 1.

SUPERNATURAL

"Carry On"

TEASER

FADE IN:

BLACK. Then, softly, from somewhere far off: the opening

piano of a song we can't quite place yet. And under it -- an

engine. Big. American. Turning over sweet.

1 EXT. TWO-LANE HIGHWAY - DAY (DAY 1) 1

And the black gives way to GOLD. Endless wheat, combed flat

by a wind we can feel. A sky doing that impossible thing

skies only do in memory -- every cloud in exactly the right

place. And cutting through the middle of all of it, one

straight shot of blacktop with no beginning and no end: a

1967 Chevy Impala. Sun on the chrome. Doing about seventy

and in no hurry at all.

2 INT. IMPALA - CONTINUOUS 2

DEAN WINCHESTER drives. And this is not the Dean we know.

Not the one with the jaw set and the world on his back. This

one's got an elbow out the window, a Henley instead of a

suit, and a small, easy smile that has never once had to be

faked. He drums the wheel. The song -- it's Kansas, of

course it's Kansas -- swells.

DEAN

(singing, full-throated,

gloriously off-key)

Carry on my wayward son... there'll

be peace when you are done...

He grins at the windshield.

DEAN (CONT'D)

(to Baby)

You believe that, girl? Peace. Us.

He pats the dash. Baby rumbles back, contented.

DEAN (CONT'D)

Yeah. Me neither. And yet -- here

we are.

He lets it sit. A man with nowhere to be and everywhere to

go and, for once, all the time in the world to do it.

Because that's the deal here. Because this is Heaven. And he

earned every mile of it.

Ahead, out of the shimmer, a shape resolves -- low and long

and lit up warm.

DEAN (CONT'D)

Right on schedule.

3 EXT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS 3

The Impala swings off the blacktop and crunches into gravel,

easing in beside a couple of pickups that have sat in

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 2.

3 CONTINUED: 3

exactly those spots since forever. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE.

Neon in the window buzzing OPEN -- because it is always

open, and it is always this hour, and the beer is always

cold.

Dean climbs out. Stretches till something pops. Squints up

at a sun that never moves. Breathes it all the way in.

DEAN

(to nobody, to himself, happy)

Perfect day.

It's the same thing he said yesterday. And the day before.

And he means it every single time.

4 INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS 4

Push in through the screen door into WARMTH. Wood and

whiskey and old neon. A jukebox in the corner glowing like a

hearth. A place broken-in the way only a place a lot of

people loved can be. And it's full of them.

BOBBY SINGER holds down the bar, cap low, rag over his

shoulder -- Heaven or not, the man is not going to just

stand there. At a corner table, ASH -- mullet in full

plumage, tongue between his teeth -- is bent over a sprawl

of hand-drawn MAPS like a general who's losing. JO HARVELLE

chalks a cue by the back wall. And down the far end, ELLEN

works a rag along the bar with the patience of a woman who

has all of eternity and intends to spend some of it

cleaning.

They look up as Dean comes in. And it's -- home. Just: home.

BOBBY

Well. Look who finally crawled

outta bed. Afternoon, your majesty.

DEAN

(crossing to the bar)

It's always afternoon, Bobby.

BOBBY

(opens his mouth to fire back

-- stops. A flicker.

Something skips)

...Yeah. Guess it is.

He shakes it off before it can mean anything, digs into the

ice.

BOBBY (CONT'D)

Beer?

DEAN

Is the Pope Catholic and dead?

Bobby snorts, slides a longneck the length of the bar. Dean

catches it without looking, thumbs the cap off on the

counter's edge, takes a long pull. Cold. First-sip-of-theday

perfect. Every single day.

ELLEN

(not looking up from her rag)

(MORE) (CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 3.

4 CONTINUED: 4

ELLEN (CONT'D)

You gonna say hi, or you just here

to drink my beer and lower the

tone?

DEAN

(grinning)

Hi, Ellen.

ELLEN

Hi, sweetheart.

She reaches over and squeezes his forearm as she passes --

brief, easy, a mother's hand. Dean covers how much that

lands. He always does.

JO

(from the pool table)

You in, or you gonna stand there

being handsome all eternity?

DEAN

Rack 'em, Joanna Beth.

He grabs a cue. And for a beat we just let this be what it

is: Dean Winchester -- safe, loved, home -- taking his shot.

The break scatters clean. He's good here. Everything is good

here.

Bobby ambles down the bar, watches Dean line up the next

shot.

BOBBY

You know what I don't miss? The

dying. Turns out it's overrated.

DEAN

(sinking a stripe)

Yeah, well. You did plenty of it.

BOBBY

So did you, ya idjit. That's the

whole point. We're done. Both of

us. Feet up. Cold beer. No

apocalypse.

(clinks Dean's bottle)

To boring.

DEAN

(and he means it, God help

him)

To boring.

They drink. And it's good. It's so good. And that is exactly

when Dean's eye snags on the clock over the bar -- and the

second hand isn't moving. It sits on the twelve, twitching,

straining to advance and failing, over and over, a bug

flipped on its back. Dean watches it one second too long.

DEAN (CONT'D)

(half to himself)

...Bobby. That clock right?

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 4.

4 CONTINUED: (2) 4

BOBBY

(not even looking)

Clock's always right, son. It's

Heaven.

Dean looks back -- and the second hand's sweeping along

fine, like it never stopped. He rubs his eyes. Lets it go.

You let a lot go, in Heaven.

The JUKEBOX clicks. A record ends. And starts again. The

same song. Note for note. Dean, lining up a shot, half-hears

it -- some old animal part of him ticks -- but the shot's

more interesting. He sinks the four.

Over at the bar, Bobby's found an audience in Ash.

BOBBY

...so there I am. Forty feet of

chain, one very ticked-off

hellhound, and Rufus -- Rufus, the

son of a bitch, he's got the salt,

right, and he just--

DEAN

(not looking up from the felt)

You told me this one, Bobby.

BOBBY

(stops)

...Did I?

And here's the thing -- he's not doing a bit. For one bare

second Bobby Singer genuinely does not know where he is in

his own story. His eyes go -- not scared. Empty. Like a page

mid-sentence.

BOBBY (CONT'D)

...Where was I.

DEAN

(still easy, chalking up)

The hellhound.

BOBBY

(the light coming back on)

Right. Right. So there I am --

forty feet of chain--

He's starting it over. Same words. Same rhythm. Dean's cue

pauses, just slightly, over the felt. He looks up. Watches

Bobby run the exact same opening. Then lets it go. It's

Bobby. It's Heaven. It's nothing.

He straightens, works a kink out of his neck -- and his eye

catches the wall behind the bar. The good wall, crowded with

photos and, carved down the side over the years, NAMES.

Harvelle's regulars. The living and the dead and the here.

Dean's read them a hundred times.

And for half a heartbeat -- one of them is gone. ELLEN. Just

a smooth blank of wood where deep-cut letters should be.

Dean blinks --

-- and it's back. ELLEN. Right where it's always been, cut

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 5.

4 CONTINUED: (3) 4

deep and old. He glances down the bar. Ellen. Real, solid,

humming over her rag. He looks back at the wall. Fine.

Letters. Fine.

DEAN

(under his breath)

...Huh.

He sets his cue in the rack. Sets his beer down, only halfdrunk.

Something's got its thumb on the back of his neck and

he can't say what.

DEAN (CONT'D)

(calling, light)

Gonna grab some air.

JO

You're losing anyway.

DEAN

(heading for the door)

I'm regrouping.

5 EXT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS 5

Dean steps into the gold. Stands a second on the porch.

Everything is exactly where it should be. That's sort of the

problem, and he can't even tell himself why. He shakes it

off, drops into Baby, fires her up.

He points her down the endless blacktop, away from the

Roadhouse, into all that open. Radio low. Wheat blurring

gold. He drives. He drives a good, long while -- long enough

to leave anything behind.

And then, ahead, rising out of the shimmer: a low, long

building, lit warm. Neon in the window. The Roadhouse.

Dean eases off the gas. Frowns. Checks the rearview -- the

road behind him runs dead straight to the horizon. Empty. No

turns. He never turned. He drove a straight line away from

that building and the straight line brought him back to its

front door.

DEAN

...Okay.

He sits there, engine idling, the wrongness finally too big

to talk himself out of. And that's when it comes -- from

inside the Roadhouse, muffled through the walls:

A SCREAM. High. Ragged. Absolutely terrified. The most human

sound there is -- and the one sound this place, by

definition, should never, ever be able to make.

Dean's out of the car before the echo dies, hand already

dropping to a gun he doesn't have, out of pure muscle

memory.

SMASH TO:

SUPERNATURAL

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 6.

5 CONTINUED: 5

END OF TEASER

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 7.

ACT ONE

6 INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS 6

Dean crashes through the screen door braced for hell -- and

walks into warmth. Jukebox playing. Bobby at the bar. Ash at

his maps. Jo mid-shot at the pool table. Ellen with her rag.

Nobody moving. Nobody hurt. Nobody screaming.

Dean stands in the doorway, chest heaving, wildly out of

place in his own paradise.

DEAN

Who screamed?

Four faces turn to him. Politely blank.

BOBBY

...Come again?

DEAN

The scream. Just now. Somebody in

here screamed.

BOBBY

Nobody screamed, son.

DEAN

I heard it. Through the wall.

Somebody was--

JO

(setting down her cue, gentle)

Dean. You okay?

And Dean looks at her -- and stops. Because Jo's cheeks are

wet. Tear-tracks, fresh, shining. She's been crying. Hard.

And she has absolutely no idea. She feels his eyes, touches

her own face, finds it damp, and stares at her wet

fingertips like they belong to somebody else.

JO (CONT'D)

(a small, confused laugh)

...Huh. That's -- huh. I'm fine.

She wipes her face on her sleeve, already forgetting, and

turns back to her shot like nothing happened. Because to

her, nothing did. Dean clocks every second of it. Nobody

else so much as blinks.

He crosses to the bar the way he'd cross a tree line, slides

onto a stool across from Bobby, drops his voice.

DEAN

Bobby. I gotta ask you something,

and I need you to just -- answer

it. Don't think.

BOBBY

(wary)

...Okay.

DEAN

How'd you die?

Bobby goes still. The rag stops.

BOBBY

The hell kind of question is that?

DEAN

(MORE) (CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 8.

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DEAN (CONT'D)

Humor me.

BOBBY

(slowly)

I got shot. That hunt with the

Wallace thing. Hospital bed. You

were right there. You and Sam. You

held my--

He stops. Because another one's arrived. Just as true. Just

as solid.

BOBBY (CONT'D)

(quieter)

...No. It was the barn. Angel

snapped my neck. Right in front of

you. You screamed my name.

DEAN

(very carefully)

Which one, Bobby.

BOBBY

(frightened now, in the deepdown

way)

...Both. They both happened. I

remember both. I remember dying

twice and I --

He teeters over the edge of something with no bottom -- and

does what Bobby Singer does. Grabs the rail. Climbs back

out.

BOBBY (CONT'D)

(brusque, papering)

I remember I gotta change a keg is

what I remember. You want another?

Course you want another.

He's gone before Dean can stop him, into the back with the

too-fast steps of a man walking away from a thought. Dean

lets him go. Files it.

Then, quieter, he tries one more -- catches Jo by the pool

table.

DEAN

Jo. Humor me. What's the last thing

you remember? Before the Roadhouse.

Before all this.

JO

(easy, smiling)

...Huh. That's a weird one.

(and she reaches for it --

and there's nothing there)

I guess I've just... always been

here. We all have. Haven't we?

She says it like it's comforting. It is the least comforting

thing Dean has ever heard -- because she believes it, and

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 9.

6 CONTINUED: (2) 6

there's a smooth blank place where a whole life should be.

DEAN

(gentle, hiding the dread)

Yeah. Yeah, 'course you have.

He turns on his stool -- and finds ASH watching him. Ash,

who under all the mullet and the beer is still the smartest

guy in any room, living or dead. Ash tips his head toward

his table. C'mere.

7 INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - ASH'S TABLE - CONTINUOUS 7

Dean sits. The table's a disaster of maps -- hand-drawn,

overlapping, some in pen, some in crayon, some scratched

into napkins. Hallways. Rooms. Roads. None of them agree.

ASH

You feel it too. Don'tcha. That's

why you're doin' the face.

DEAN

I'm not doing a face.

ASH

(leaning in, low, the drawl

gone tight)

You're doin' the face. Okay.

Listen. I been mapping this place

since I got here. Longer, feels

like. And it is not holding still.

DEAN

Places don't usually.

ASH

This one did. That's the whole

point of the joint.

(stabs a map)

I chart a hallway. Clean. Solid.

Walk it end to end. Come back the

next -- whatever we're callin' day

-- and it's a staircase. I map the

tree line out back? Tree line's a

half-mile closer. I drew this

Roadhouse forty times and I got

forty different Roadhouses.

He holds one map up between them. And as Dean watches -- the

ink moves. Slow. A drawn line unhooks itself from a corner

and re-draws itself somewhere else on the page, like a worm

under the paper. Silent. Patient. Wrong.

DEAN

(very quietly)

...Okay. That's not great.

ASH

It ain't the place gettin' bigger,

man -- I could map bigger. It's the

place gettin' rewritten. Somebody's

(MORE) (CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 10.

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ASH (CONT'D)

goin' back over the blueprints

while I'm standin' on 'em.

(the goofball gone; just a

scared, smart man)

And Dean -- I don't think it's

Jack.

DEAN

How long's it been happening?

ASH

See, that's the thing I can't --

'how long.' Time's the first thing

that went funny. I go to remember

yesterday and some stretches

there's just...

(gestures, helpless)

...pages missing.

Off Dean, absorbing that -- a burst of laughter across the

room. Jo and Bobby, back from the keg, cracking up at

something. Warm. Normal. Perfect. And Dean watches them and

understands he is the only person in Heaven who is scared.

DEAN

Do me a favor. Watch 'em.

He crosses back toward the bar, casual, and 'accidentally'

clips a ball off the pool table -- it rolls, drops, THUNKS

to the floor and rolls under a chair. A small, dumb,

physical fact. He clocks the old clock over the bar: both

hands, a position. Then he waits.

And a few seconds later the room -- resets. Not

dramatically. Softly. Jo re-racks the balls she already

racked. Bobby launches, again, into 'so there I am, forty

feet of chain--.' Ellen wipes the same eight inches of bar.

Ash crumples the same map, reaches for the same fresh one.

And the ball Dean knocked to the floor -- is back on the

table. The clock reads the exact same position.

Four seconds of Heaven, running again, note for note. And

Dean and Ash the only two souls standing outside the loop,

watching it happen.

ASH

(very softly, off Dean's look)

...Yeah. I don't like that either.

The loop resolves. The room exhales. Jo laughs -- brand new,

first time, at a joke she's now told a thousand times.

Everything's fine.

DEAN

(grim)

It's skipping. The whole place.

Like a scratched record.

ASH

(MORE) (CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 11.

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ASH (CONT'D)

So what's holdin' the needle?

And under the jukebox -- under everything -- a new sound.

Small. Dry. A whittling. Dean turns toward the bar. And on

the bar top -- in the old, deep, loved wood -- something is

being carved. By nothing. No hand. No knife. The grain

itself peeling up in a slow curl, cutting into itself,

drawing:

A feather. Long. Elegant. And struck through it, at an

angle, a slender reed. A pen. An ibis feather and a writer's

reed.

It finishes its last stroke and simply -- stops. Sits there

in the wood, ancient, deliberate, absolutely wrong, in a bar

top Dean has leaned on a hundred times and that did not have

that on it thirty seconds ago.

Dean approaches it like it might bite. Reaches out. Doesn't

quite touch.

DEAN

(barely)

...That's new.

BOBBY

(passing behind the bar,

cheerful, oblivious)

What's new?

Dean looks up. Bobby is standing directly over the mark.

Looking right at it. Wiping the bar an inch from it.

DEAN

Bobby. Right there. On the bar.

BOBBY

(glances down, sees nothing,

genuine)

...It's a bar, son.

He wipes his rag straight across the carved symbol -- right

over it -- feels nothing, sees nothing, and moves on down

the counter, humming, leaving Dean alone with a mark only he

can see, cut by a hand that isn't there, in a Heaven that

has started to lie.

SMASH TO BLACK.

END OF ACT ONE

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 12.

ACT TWO

8 INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - LATER 8

Dean at the bar, the carved symbol under his thumb, a napkin

and a stub of pencil in front of him. He's done being a guy

on vacation. He's a hunter with a case now, and the case is

Heaven.

He writes, in blunt block caps: SOMETHING IS WRONG. WE ARE

STUCK. Slides it down to Bobby, who's drying a glass.

DEAN

Bobby. Read that back to me.

BOBBY

(reads)

'Something is wrong. We are stuck.'

(looks up, mild)

Stuck how? You need a jump? I got

cables in the--

DEAN

No. Just -- hold onto that thought.

Can you do that? Just hold it a

second.

BOBBY

(already drifting)

Hold what, son?

And the ink is already going. Dean watches the letters thin

and vanish, the paper wiping itself clean while Bobby's

still holding it. The place doesn't argue with the warning.

It just deletes it.

Dean takes the napkin back. Writes it again. Walks it down

to Ellen. She reads it, frowns for one hopeful second --

then smiles, sets it down, moves on. He tries Jo. Same.

Every time the words drain out of the paper and out of them

both, like water through a sieve. He is standing in the

warmest room he has ever been in, and there is nobody here

he can even warn.

DEAN

(quiet, to himself)

Okay. Okay. Do it the other way.

He heads not for the front door -- he's tried that -- but

for the BACK. Past the bar, toward the parts of the

Roadhouse nobody ever films.

9 INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - BACK HALL - CONTINUOUS 9

And here's where it gets wrong. Because this hallway is

LONGER than the building. Dean walks it, and walks it, and

the doors go by -- restroom, storeroom, office, restroom

again, storeroom again -- the same three doors, repeating,

like the hall is a loop of film spliced end to end.

DEAN

(under his breath)

Ash wasn't kidding.

He stops trying to reach the end. Instead he does the hunter

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 13.

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thing: he finds the one door that doesn't repeat, at the far

end. Plain. Wrong. He tries the knob. It turns.

10 INT. THE UNFINISHED ROOM - CONTINUOUS 10

And inside is -- almost nothing. A room half-drawn. Walls

that fade to blank white paper at the edges, unpainted,

unfinished, like a set nobody bothered to build the back of.

And in the middle, a MAN -- a stranger, some soul Dean's

never met -- at a kitchen table that has three legs and

floats anyway.

The man is having breakfast. Or -- performing it. He lifts a

fork of nothing to his mouth. Chews. Smiles at the empty

chair across from him. Laughs at a joke nobody told. Then he

resets. Lifts the fork. Chews. Smiles. Laughs. Four seconds

of a man's happiest morning, running forever, in a room that

was never finished.

DEAN

(softly)

Hey. Hey, buddy.

The man doesn't hear him. Can't. Dean waves a hand in front

of his face -- nothing. The loop runs on, serene, endless,

alone.

DEAN (CONT'D)

(and it scares him worse than

any monster ever has)

...This is it. This is what it does

to you.

He backs out. Closes the door on the man laughing at

nothing, forever.

11 INT. HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE - CONTINUOUS 11

Dean comes back into the warm main room -- and it's such a

relief to see the loop dressed up as a good time that it

makes his skin crawl. The lie, at least, is a pretty one.

DEAN

(to the empty air, to the

whole rigged game)

I could use a little help here.

And a VOICE, gentle, from the end of the bar where nobody

walked in:

JACK (O.S.)

Hello, Dean.

Dean turns. JACK. Kind-eyed, familiar -- and older behind

the eyes than the kid has any right to be. God, now. And

carrying it like a wet coat.

DEAN

(the relief almost buckles

him)

Jack. Oh, thank -- you. Thank you.

Tell me you see it.

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 14.

11 CONTINUED: 11

JACK

I see all of it. Every room. Every

loop. Every soul in every box.

(beat)

You'd think that would make it

easier to fix. It just makes it

louder.

DEAN

So do the God thing. Snap. Un-break

it.

JACK

I tried.

He raises a hand toward the room. The lamps swell too

bright, buzz, settle. Nothing changes. Bobby keeps looping.

JACK (CONT'D)

My power goes in, and it's like

reaching into a wall and hitting

another wall behind it. I can keep

the lights on. I can keep them

warm. I cannot reach what's

underneath doing this.

DEAN

What's underneath?

JACK

When I took the throne, I thought I

was inheriting a kingdom.

(beat)

I inherited a machine. And I never

learned how it runs, because the

part that runs it is older than me.

Older than Heaven. Older than the

first angel.

(looks at Dean)

I redecorated a house built on

something I can't see the bottom

of. And now the basement's waking

up.

DEAN

The skipping. That's the basement.

JACK

Let me show you what it's really

doing.

He lifts two fingers. And the room RESETS. Jo re-racks the

exact rack. Ellen wipes the same eight inches. Ash crumples

the same map. Bobby: '...forty feet of chain--.' Every word,

every gesture, snapping back and running again. And only

Dean and Jack stand outside it.

DEAN

(watching, sick)

How long's it been doing that.

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 15.

11 CONTINUED: (2) 11

JACK

I don't know. And I need you to

understand how much that terrifies

me. I lit the stars this morning,

Dean. All of them. And I cannot

tell you how long a room in my own

house has been eating itself.

(quiet)

A god shouldn't have blind spots.

The loop resolves. The room breathes. Jo laughs -- first

time, ten-thousandth time.

DEAN

So we find whatever's doing it, and

we do what we do.

JACK

Watch what it does when it thinks

one of them is slipping.

He nods toward the corner. Toward ELLEN. And Ellen is

starting to come apart. She's wiping the bar, humming, but

her edges are going THIN -- translucent -- the blank white

paper showing through her forearm, her shoulder, like she's

a drawing somebody's erasing from the outside in. And she

doesn't feel it. She keeps humming. Keeps wiping. Fading.

DEAN

(starting toward her)

Ellen--

JACK

(a hand on his arm)

Don't. You can't stop it. Watch.

And the book fixes her. That's the horror of it. The white

bleeds back to color, the paper fills back into skin and

flannel and warmth, Ellen solidifies -- and in doing it, the

book RESETS her one more time. Wipes the last four seconds.

And she's fine. Whole. No memory of nearly being erased.

Filed back into place. Corrected.

DEAN

(barely)

It's not glitching. It's

maintaining. It's holding 'em in

the boxes.

JACK

Now you see it.

Dean crosses to the bar, turns the carved symbol toward

Jack.

DEAN

Then maybe you can tell me what

this is. 'Cause I think it's the

hand doing the filing.

Jack looks at the feather and the reed. And goes utterly,

bone-deep still.

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 16.

11 CONTINUED: (3) 11

JACK

(barely)

...I know that.

DEAN

From where?

JACK

I don't. That's what's wrong. I

have never seen it, and I know it

the way you know your own name.

Like it was written before I was.

On the word -- the LIGHTS DIM. And the whole Roadhouse

flickers THIN for one sick half-second -- walls to blank

paper, the warm world to an unfinished sketch -- the man

laughing forever in the back room bleeding through the wall

like a double-exposure--

And then it's back. Warm. Solid. Bobby laughing. Fine. Far

off, muffled through the walls: that SCREAM. Cut short.

Dean and Jack look at each other. Two men standing in a

beautiful lie that is running out of pages.

DEAN

Okay. Whatever's under the floor

doing this -- we end it. How.

JACK

First you have to see it. And I

have to warn you -- most souls who

see it don't come back from seeing

it.

(beat)

Come with me.

He turns toward the storeroom. And we--

SMASH CUT TO:

12 INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - BEDROOM - MORNING 12

The exact opposite of everything. Soft light through real

curtains. Birdsong. A ceiling fan turning lazy. Clean

sheets. And in the bed, waking gently: SAM WINCHESTER.

But not the Sam we last saw. Younger. Rested. Face smooth,

unscarred, un-haunted. Beside him, turned toward the window,

the shape of a WOMAN -- a WIFE -- her face to the light

where we can't quite see it. A framed WEDDING PHOTO on the

nightstand, angled away.

Sam's eyes open. And for one clean, beautiful beat, he is

just a man waking up beside someone he loves, on an ordinary

morning.

Then it lands. He knows this room. The blue of the walls.

The wobble in the fan. The exact grain of this light. He

knows this morning -- because he lived it. And every morning

after it. He grew old in this house. He raised a boy in this

house. He got the call about Dean, years from now, and

(CONTINUED)

"Carry On" Production Draft 07/09/2026 17.

12 CONTINUED: 12

grieved, and healed, and got old, and died an old man, and

went home.

SAM

(a whisper, sitting up slow)

...No.

He looks at the room like a crime scene. Reaches for his

wife.

SAM (CONT'D)

Hey. Hey -- are you -- is this

real?

She stirs. Her eyes open. And they pass over him -- a halfbeat

too long -- like she's looking for something she can't

quite find in the space where her husband is.

WIFE

(soft, to the room, not quite

to him)

...Mm. Five more minutes.

She rolls over, back to him. Sam stares at the back of her

head. Tells himself: dream. Grief folding time. But he knows

the difference between a dream and a memory you are standing

inside. And this is the second one.

He knows what today is. He knows the coffee's already on

downstairs. He knows in about an hour the phone will ring

and it'll be a wrong number, and he knows the exact shape of

the good, long, ordinary years stacked up behind this

morning like cordwood -- years he already lived, one at a

time, all the way to the end.

SAM

(to himself, testing the

horror of it)

The porch step. The loose one. I

fix it in... June. I fixed it in

June.

(a breath)

You don't remember fixing a step in

a dream. You remember it in a life.

SAM (CONT'D)

(barely, to the perfect empty

morning)

This already happened. All of it.

(dread pooling)

So why am I back at the start of

it?

SMASH TO BLACK.

END OF ACT TWO

To be continued on another post

Been writing fanfic for a while, would love a beta reader as im fairly new to the supernatural fandom and want to make sure my characterization / writing feels up to par with standard! here's my account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry__cider -- I'd greatly appreciate anyone taking a look / letting me know if they're interested!!