Suite des "sides" :
Part III, pages 12, 13, 14, 15
SAM: Lore says the anti-Clause walks with a limp and smells like sweets.
DEAN: We chasing Pimp Santa? Why sweets?
SAM: Smell like candy, the kids come close.
DEAN: Okay. That’s creepy. (pause) How’s this thing know who’s been naughty and who’s been nice?
SAM: Don’t know yet.
DEAN: (looking ahead) Actually. Maybe we do.
The boys have arrived at Santa’s Court. A line of kids wait eagerly to sit on Santa’s lap. Santa, in this case, is a dodgy-looking guy we’ll call GRIMY SANTA. Grimy Santa sits on a throne surrounded by more bored teenage elves. A little boy, RONNIE, sits on his lap. Grimy Santa creepily strokes Ronnie’s back and looks deep into his eyes.
GS (GRIMY SANTA): So, Ronnie…have you been a good little boy?
Ronnie nods yes. GS cracks a creepy smile.
GS (cont’d): Oh, I’ve got a special present for you.
Dean and Sam exchange looks. Could be our guy. Just as a cheery female elf, 17, steps in front of them.
CHEERY ELF: Welcome to Santa’s Court! Can I escort your child to Santa?
DEAN: Oh, no. My brother. Sorta been a lifelong dream of his.
CHEERY ELF: (to Sam): Aw, I’m sorry…no kids older than twelve.
SAM: That’s okay…he’s joking. We just want to watch.
The teenaged elf shoots a questioning look at Dean, who just shrugs – “don’t look at me”. She looks at Sam in disgust.
CHEERY ELF: Ew.
Cheery elf takes off. Dean loves it.
SAM: (calling after her): Not what I meant! (to Dean): Thanks for that.
Dean: Check it out.
GS has stepped off his throne and now walks past them. He moves with a distinctive limp.
DEAN (cont’d): You seeing this?
SAM: Lots of people limp…right?
DEAN: Tell me you didn’t smell that. That was candy, man.
SAM: Dude. That was ripple. (unsure) Had to be.
DEAN: Maybe. We gotta take that chance?
Off Sam, wondering: is there really an anti-Clause?
EXTERIOR GRIMY SANTA’S HOUSE/SANTA’S VILLAGE -- NIGHT: Santa’s Village is long-closed for the night and the farm is still. The boys take out the old farmhouse where GS lives on the farm. Dean stifles a yawn. Sam passes him a thermos.
SAM: Caffeinate.
DEAN: What time is it?
SAM: Same as the last time you asked. Late.
Dean tries to pour himself some coffee…it’s empty.
DEAN: Wonderful (after a moment) Man, you know how to hold a grudge.
SAM: Huh? Because of Christmas?
DEAN: Yeah. Celebrate with me.
SAM: Nobody said you can’t celebrate. Just leave me out of it.
DEAN: That’ll be fun. Me and myself can make cranberry molds.
SAM: (shrugs) Knock yourself out.
ANGLE ON: Grimy Santa’s house. A light turns on. GS appears at a window, peers warily outside, then draws the curtain tight. ANGLE ON: The boys, who throw each other a look. A scream sounds from inside the house. The boys draw guns and move to the front door where Sam begins to pick the look. Just as Sam is about to open the door, he looks at Dean, wry smile on his face.
DEAN: (whispering): Something funny?
SAM: Sort of. Mr. Gung-Ho Christmas is about to blow away Santa Claus.
Dean shoots Sam a fake smile – “Ha, ha, not funny, a$$hole.”
INTERIOR GRIMY SANTA’S HOUSE -- CONTINUOUS: The door swings open and the boys, guns up, step in to see: GS sits on a sofa, in wife-beater and Santa pants, sucking mightily on a 3 foot bong…while watching a Christmas themed porno movie playing on the TV. Which was obviously the source of the scream. The guy’s a pig, but not evil. Dean and Sam quickly tuck their guns behind their backs…just as GS notices them and freaks.
GS: The hella re you doing here!
Well…this is awkward. Neither brother knows what to say. And then, haltingly, Dean begins to sing.
DEAN: Silent night, Holy night…
Sam looks at Dean like he’s crazy. Dean shoots a look back – “Start singing, crapwad”. And Sam does.
SAM AND DEAN: All is well, all is bright…
They’re horrible, they don’t know the words, Dean keeps sneaking peeks at the porn… but GS buys it. He lounges back, expels an enormous cloud of smoke and enjoys.
INTERIOR CALDWELL HOUSE -- NIGHT: As “Silent Night” (a good, haunting version) continues to play, the camera fixes on the ceiling of the second floor hallway…when a loud thump sounds on the roof. The camera tilts down to pick up JIMMY CALDWELL, 8 years old, emerging from his bedroom and staring up at the ceiling, hoping against hope…
[color:add4=green:add4]INTERIOR CALDWELL HOUSE – LIVING ROOM -- MOMENTS LATER: Jimmy pitter-patters into the living room, wipes the sleep from his eyes. He stops in the middle of the room, looks around. The tree is dark, all is quiet. Dang must have been a false alarm. He turns to head back upstairs…when something catches his eye.
Part IV, page 17
ACT TWO
INT. CALDWELL HOUSE -- NIGHT: Dean, again pretexting as an FBI agent, interviews Cindy Caldwell, while Sam looks around the house. Cindy is the wife of the man taken the night before and she’s hurting.
CINDY: I guess there was a thump on the roof or something, that’s what my son says. All I know is I was asleep... and suddenly Al’s being dragged out of bed.
DEAN: Did you see the attacker.
CINDY: (no) It happened so fast...
Dean nods sympathetically, notices her son, JIMMY, drawing quietly in another room.
DEAN: How’s your son hanging in there?
CINDY: Besides thinking Santa Claus dragged his daddy up the chimney. Swell.
DEAN: I’m sorry. I know this is hard.
CINDY: (softening) It’s not your fault. It’s just, all you boys coming through here with all your questions, be nice if just one of you had an answer. Like, where my husband is?
Sam enters.
SAM: Excuse me, Mrs. Caldwell? Where’d you get the wreath that’s hanging over the fireplace?
Mrs. Caldwell returns Sam’s question with a disbelieving glare. Sam looks to Dean -- “what’d I say?”
Part V, pages 20, 21, 22
SAM: Right. Guess what a Mithras brings?
DEAN: Lapdances... hopefully?
SAM: Mild weather.
DEAN: Like no snow in the middle of December... in the middle of Michigan?
SAM: Yeah.
And that pretty much settles it.
DEAN: We know how to kill this thing yet?
SAM: Bobby’s working on it. But I found the one place in town that sells these wreaths. Might be worth hearing what they have to say.
Off Dean -- you're goddam right it is...
INT. CRAFT STORE -- DAY: If evil lurks here... it’s hiding behind a reindeer tea cozy. This place is all Christmas ornaments and dried flowers. Sam and Dean enter. A no-nonsense man, Mr. Siler, 40’s, stands at the counter.
MR. SILER: Help you, boys?
DEAN: Hope so. We were playing Celebrity over at the Walshes the other night, and he hasn’t shut up since about this Christmas wreath they had. (to Sam) What’d you call it?
Sam has no choice but to play along.
SAM: Fabulous?
DEAN: No...
Sam narrows his eyes. Dean’s just screwing with him now...
SAM: (through gritted teeth) ... Yummy?
DEAN: That’s it! (to Mr. Siler) We’ll take the yummy one.
Mr. Siler eyes the boys for a beat.
MR. SILER: ‘Fraid I’m all out. Walshes bought the last one.
SAM:
DEAN: Man! Hey, you wouldn’t know what those things were made of, would you? Maybe make our own?
MR. SILER: No idea. I just sell ‘em.
SAM: I think it’s Meadowsweet... isn’t it?
MR. SILER: Sure. Whatever you say, Will. (pointed) Or is it Grace?
Sam smiles... but he wants to deck the guy.
SAM: Actually, it’s --- it’s Sam. My brother, Dean...
MR. SILER: (not buying it) Uh huh. Look, you want to be asking Madge Carrigan. She’s the one who brought me the wreaths in the first place.
DEAN: Fantastic. Who’s she?
MR. SILER: Local lady. Said the wreaths were so special she’d give ‘em to me for free.
The boys exchange looks. That odd.
SAM: She didn’t charge you for the wreaths?
MR. SILER: Nope.
DEAN: Did you sell them for free?
MR. SILER: Hell, no. It’s Christmas. People’ll pay a bu++load for this crap.
DEAN: (takes a beat) That’s the spirit.
INT. MOTEL ROOM -- NIGHT. Sam and Dean walk in the door.
DEAN: So, waddya think? Some woman giving away thousand dollar wreaths for free?
SAM: I think it’s suspicious, that’s what I think.
As Sam moves past him to sit at the laptop, Dean decides to make another go. He puts on a smile.
DEAN: Hey, remember that Christmas when Dad brought home that dumpy-a$$ed tree he stole from the liquor store? He bought three ham dinners from Boston Market... remember that?
SAM: Yeah. Ain’t happening.
DEAN: Come on.