"Getting you on the phone, I got a better chance of winning the lottery"

Okay, so the opening montage and music is beyond cool. Carry On Wayward Son.* Fantastic.

Blue Earth, Minnesota. Meg wanders into Church in a flurry of flickering candles, and enters into conversation with the vicar. "Salvation was created for sinners," he reassures her, all gentle and paternal and kind, and she plays along, but not for long. I've never liked Meg. Oddly, though, she's more bearable when she gives up the sweet and innocent act, which she very quickly does here, flashing her demon black eyes as she confesses to murder…

Say hello to Pastor Jim. That name might rung a bell. It isn't mentioned in this scene, though – which is neat, that the writers allow the viewers to put the pieces together themselves, or not, depending on their memory for minor details, only confirming his identity at a later stage. He recognises her for what she is at once, takes a moment to be horrified that she has been able to step onto hallowed ground, and then swiftly gets over it and runs like hell. But he's not just randomly scarpering – turns out that locked away down in the basement of his church he keeps an entire arsenal that's just wicked. Bet his parishioners don't know about that.

Meg kicks the door in and stands there, all artistically framed in a glow of technicolour light streaming through a stained glass window at the top of the stairs. Pastor Jim gamely hurls a knife at her, but knife throwing just clearly isn't his strong point. She catches it, but he was going to miss by a mile anyway. Maybe he's just been caught off guard. Maybe the fighting isn't really his thing, despite the arsenal.

PASTOR JIM: "What do you want?"
MEG: "The Winchesters."
PASTOR JIM: "I haven't spoken to John Winchester in over a year."

A year ago would be about the time John did his disappearing act.. We already knew Pastor Jim hadn't heard from him in that time, since he's one of those contacts the boys have been checking in with regularly in hopes of hearing news of their missing father but who never had any news to give them.

Meg asked for the Winchesters plural, but he doesn't mention the boys, we notice, who he has been in touch with. He's known them since they were children, we learned that in Something Wicked. He's protecting them. He's been on-screen for all of three minutes, and he's already interesting enough to want to know better. Shame we never will.

PASTOR JIM: "You're wasting your time. Even if I did know where they were, I'd never tell you."
MEG: "I know."

She slits his throat. It is horrible, and for a guy who appears on-screen for only these scant short minutes, Pastor Jim's death packs quite a punch. We know what he means to our protagonists.

And…man. He's going to be found dead down there by some unsuspecting parishioner, surrounded by an arsenal of weapons that he couldn't explain away even if he was alive to do so. That's a harsh way to go.

Then onto the family Winchester, all together in Manning, Colorado, and John is imparting actual information. It's like a miracle! Pages and pages of John's research notes pinned all over the wall, they are holding a de-briefing session, and we actually learn stuff we've been wondering about all season. When John left a year ago he'd picked up the trail of the demon for the first time in over 20 years, maybe because it only then came out of hiding or hibernation, and he's been tracking it ever since.

I still want to know exactly what it was that John heard, or saw, or realised, that made him take off from Jericho mid-job the way he did. If we cast our minds back to the Pilot, we remember that he left in a hurry because he was scared of something. He'd littered his motel room with salt and cat's eye shells to keep something out, left there at a run, and he was running from something very specific. What was it that he came across so randomly while working an average haunting that spooked him so badly he had to go so abruptly into hiding from his sons and break all contact with them without explanation? What happened in Jericho? I really want to know.

Ahem. John explains what he's learned about The Demon during a painstaking, yearlong process of sifting through what evidence he's managed to glean. The trail has taken him through many states, a trail of homes burned to the ground. The Demon goes after families, every time.

SAM: "Families with infants?"

He already knows, deep down. The Demon's attacks have been centred around him, taking out the women close to him. His visions started when The Demon re-surfaced. It's all been about Sam – and others like him, such as Max. He already knows. But he has to ask, needs to hear the confirmation of his fears.

JOHN: "Yeah. The night of the kid's six month birthday."

Sam was exactly six months old the night Mary died. The Demon came for him, and his mother died, and then later his girlfriend died, because of it. He's suspected as much for a long time. Now it seems to be confirmed, and he reaches out and embraces the burden of his guilt, a burden he's been carrying anyway but now knows to be his alone. The reason for his family's pain.

SAM: "So…Mom's death, Jessica, it's all 'cause of me?"
DEAN: "We don't know that, Sam."
SAM: "Oh really? 'Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean."

Dean has tried to reassure Sam on this point before, rather more successfully back then because Sam didn't have the evidence to support his fears. Dean sees protecting Sam as his job, and part of that job involves chasing away the baby brother's fears and nightmares, trying to take that burden of guilt from him, not allowing him to carry it alone.

DEAN: "For the last time, what happened to them is not your fault."
SAM [yelling]: "Yeah, you're right – it's not my fault, but it's my problem."
DEAN [firm]: "No, it's not your problem, it's our problem."

Reassuring Sam is what Dean does. There's no denying any more that the demon came for Sam, although Dean would still dearly love to try, and Sam will always feel the burden of that. But that doesn't make it his fault, and that's what Dean is trying so desperately to get him to understand.

"Okay, that's enough." John shuts them both up and gets back to the point, and he says it mildly, almost gently. Where did the iron-fisted authoritarian go? This de-briefing session is a huge thing for John, too, and he seems to be really feeling it.

SAM: "So why is it doing it? What's it want?"
JOHN: "Look, I wish I had more answers, I do."

John has spent the entire year gathering his evidence, piece by piece, following that trail all across the country, but always arriving too late to save anyone, despite the intensity of his focus and search.

Maybe that's another reason why he couldn't allow Dean to be with him for that process. He passed a few cases onto the boys during the year, minor patterns he'd noticed while searching for clues to something larger, that he wouldn't allow himself to be distracted by but found serious enough to want someone else to look into. How many other potential cases did he perhaps turn a blind eye to, determined not to lose sight of his goal, unable to spare the time?

Dean couldn't have turned that blind eye. His focus is so different, and he can't ignore innocent lives in danger. Distraction from John's goal. But John could have at least tried to explain, instead of leaving his sons to worry.

There are signs to predict where the next attack might take place – cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms, and the like. Those signs were there in Lawrence before Mary's death, and Palo Alto before Jessica. And now the signs have started again. So, off they head to Salvation, Iowa, to try not to be one step behind this time.

Hang on a second. When did John notice these signs in Salvation, Iowa? Before or after taking his little detour to find out if the Colt was a real thing after learning of Daniel Elkins' death? And how long did that little adventure take? It was definitely at least a couple of days. If the signs only give a few days notice at best, he was cutting things awfully fine with that detour, in search of what amounted to little more than a myth, no matter how true it turned out to be.

John stops en route to tell the boys he's had a call from Caleb to tell him that Pastor Jim is dead, finally naming the victim of the teaser on-screen for viewers who haven't managed to take note of those names when they were mentioned earlier in the season and therefore hadn't made the connection. They aren't just random names. John took the boys to Pastor Jim after the Shtriga attack all those years ago that we learned about in Something Wicked, and Sam also mentioned calling him in Aslyum, seeking news of the then still missing John. Caleb was the guy who helped Dean figure out the Daevas in Shadow. You do have to really pay attention to get the references, though – a few more, or possibly even a glimpse or two of them earlier in the season, might have established them more securely in the minds of the audience as people our protagonists care about.

I assume John took this call while driving, which is illegal where I am, but presumably not over there. Definitely not safe, though. And – he actually answered his phone? When he's ignored his sons' every call all season? Bah! Also, why would Caleb even call him at all, when he's been completely un-contactable for a year now? Maybe Caleb was expecting to have to leave a message, as usual, and was as surprised as me when John actually answered? The boys are with him again and they are on the trail of The Demon itself: the rules have changed.

John is wonderfully emotional about Jim's death, which is nice to see. He tends to be so stern, so driven that, like with Dean, it's great to see the chinks in the armour now and then. Pastor Jim had his throat slit, and John believes it's because The Demon knows they are on its trail.

JOHN: "Now we act like every second counts."

Way to amp up the tension, as if we weren't already aware of barrelling fast toward the finale.

John's plan revolves around checking out every single child about to turn six months old. Sam questions, as per usual, but the belligerence of last episode is gone and their interaction feels healthier. John is now working with his sons instead of expecting them to follow him blindly, and what a difference it makes. It probably helps also that, with the demon finally in their sights, John and Sam are now both fully focused on the same single objective, for once.

John looks interestingly damp throughout this scene. It is raining. Yet the boys manage to remain completely dry. Interesting.

John is really upset about Jim's death, and it comes across beautifully. I like that as they all turn back to their respective vehicles, Dean sees just by John's stance from the back that he's struggling emotionally and calls to ask if he's okay. He clearly isn't; that isn't the point. It's the same tactic we've seen Dean using with Sam many times throughout the season. Ask the question; open the door. John responds in the same way that Sam usually does to that gentle prompting – he takes the opportunity offered to admit how he feels, and that simple act of sharing allows him to draw strength. That's what Dean does. If John is the head of this family, then Dean is the backbone. I love it, and it reminds us not only that John and Sam are very alike, but also of those four years John and Dean spent working together side by side while Sam was away at college. Just the two of them: father and son, commander and lieutenant, but also adult and adult. They interact on a level that Sam hasn't reached yet. It's about intimacy. It's about trust.

Sam doesn't have that kind of relationship with his father, not yet. Just as Sam and Dean have spent this year getting to know one another once more and learning to interact as adults, now Sam and John must make the same adjustment. Always supposing they get the chance.

JOHN: "This ends. Now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes."

That's kind of ominous.

The stash of fake ID's in John's car amuses me immensely. This is where Dean gets it from, as if we didn't already know that. An ID to suit all purposes.

They split up to visit the two local hospitals and health centre and research all infants about to turn six months old – do hospitals really just hand over that kind of information like that? Wow. Makes you wonder what their cover story is this time. And, as if on cue, Dean flashes what looks like a police ID. Which helps but, again, I'm wondering what kind of cover story provides access to that kind of highly confidential information.

RECEPTIONIST: "Is there anything I can do for you?"
DEAN [longingly]: "Oh, God yes… Only, I, uh – I'm working right now, so…"

Dean can't not flirt. But he also has his priorities in the right order. Work comes first when lives are in danger.

Sam then has a premonition while standing in the street all alone outside the Salvation Medical Centre – a premonition of the very demon attack about to take place that they came here to prevent. Although I should say that preventing the demon attack is probably a mere side effect of their true goal, which is to kill The Demon, rather than being their primary objective. Whatever, the premonition gives him enough information to locate the exact house and the family.

So, Sam clutches his head in pain while standing outside a medical centre, and no one comes to his aid. This bothers me. It also bothers me a little that instead of calling his brother or father, he heads off to check out this new lead all by himself, having enough clues from the vision to be able to work out roughly where to go, and strikes lucky as the appropriate mother-with-pushchair happens to be walking along the street just as he gets to their house.

He should have called, in the spirit of information sharing and also of knowing how debilitating the visions can be. But maybe Sam needs very much to stretch his wings a little, all the more especially now that John is back on the scene. He left for a reason. They are stronger as a family, and they need to work through this together, but Sam also needs to fly solo now and then, if only to prove to himself that he can. This series is telling the story of Sam's imram, Sam's journey to maturity.

Always love Sam working his 'I'm so trustworthy, why not befriend me on the spot and tell me everything about yourself?' puppy eyes thing on the unsuspecting – it works every time, no matter what the lies pouring out of his mouth. Little Rosie's mother Monica falls for it hook, line and sinker. It seems that baby Rosie is exactly six months old, and Sam is left in no doubt at all that it is this family The Demon is coming for that night.

Monica and her little family are just about impossible not to like, in the very little we see of them. It's that apple-pie life that Sam aspires to: the stable home and family, loving husband and wife, doting father and mother. You'd almost think they were designed to be likeable so that viewers would sympathise with their impending doom… Sam certainly does, seeing in them what his own family once was, before that happy stability was torn away from them in fire and blood so long ago, and what he'd once perhaps hoped to build again with Jessica, only to lose her, too, to The Demon.

Jared's acting of Sam's post vision migraines always convinces. That's migraine hangover, spot on. Maybe it's not so different to actual hangover.

I really, really love that neither son has mentioned Sam's visions to John before now. When have they had the chance? And this is not a family that likes to talk about such sensitive and personal matters.

It does occur to me, though, that John should have already known something about Sam's psychic tendencies since Missouri referred to them in her conversation with him in Home. It also occurs to me that the perfect opportunity for telling him presented itself right at the start of the episode, when they had that de-briefing session during which the question was asked: why did The Demon come after Sam, and those other babies. Sam and Dean already had an inkling of what the answer to that question might be, after their run in with Max. They probably should have mentioned something to John then. It's completely understandable that they didn't. It's all been pretty overwhelming.

It amuses me that they are both so matter-of-fact about Sam's visions now, in the face of John's incredulity.

JOHN: "When were you going to tell me about this? All right, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me."

That recrimination is aimed directly at Dean, not at Sam himself. The implication is clear: Sam might be an adult now, but ultimately Dean is still expected to be responsible for him, end of story. This is the root of that whole hero complex Dean has about always taking the lead. Because, no matter how much Sam might resent it, Dean was appointed his protector a long time ago, the one who is responsible for them both, not just for himself, and that simple fact comes as automatically to John as it does Dean himself. Hard to break the habit of a lifetime.

Although Sam doesn't react to it here, it was the cumulation of a lifetime of tiny moments like that, the automatic use of military-style chain of command, that made him so frustrated as a teenager desperate to take control of his own life, such a huge part of the reason he left in the first place. How can Sam ever be truly responsible for himself when someone else already is? Sam is protected. Shielded by the older sibling standing in front of him, his entire life. He's benefited a lot from that. But it's also stifling. Both a pro and a con. It's also not the best example of parenting ever, taking responsibility from one child and giving it to the other, overburdening the one while disempowering the other.

And as for calling…I love that Dean calls John on that one. Finally.

DEAN: "Call you? Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence. Sam called you when I was dying. Getting you on the phone, I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

It is canon. John never called back when Sam left him the message that Dean was dying – this same John we just saw so upset over Pastor Jim's death. He was told that his son, his firstborn, was dying, and he never called back.

Times like this, I really dislike John. I want to be able to empathise with him, for the boys' sakes, but in moments like these I just can't. Is his revenge more important to him than the lives of his children? He claimed in Dead Man's Blood that it was fear for their lives that kept him from them all year, but it wasn't fear for their lives that kept him away from Dean's deathbed, his last chance to say goodbye to his son, miracles notwithstanding. That was perhaps a different kind of fear, and one far less forgiveable.

That little speech of Dean's is also proof that the boys have talked about the phone calls Dean mentions – Dean has told Sam about calling John in Home, although that was already confirmed in Asylum, and Sam has told Dean about calling John in Faith. How I'd love to have seen those conversations!

Sam's face is likewise a picture, and John is forced to concede the point.

"You're right," says John, and Dean looks slightly surprised to hear that, but doesn't say so out loud, unlike the last episode when he was so much less certain of his right to speak out. Or possibly just less indignant. He already knows he's right; he just didn't expect to hear his father admit fault. "Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

New tone? I'd say it's more of a shifting of the balance between them, from commander and subordinate onto a more level footing, moving toward equality. Strong support doesn't have to mean blind agreement; it was Sam who helped Dean to realise that, last episode. And I don't honestly know what John was expecting. He just disappeared without a word and left Dean to carry the load – did he really expect he could come back and have things just like they were before?

SAM: "Look, guys, visions or no visions, the fact is we know that the demon is coming tonight, and this family's going to go through the same hell that we went through."
JOHN: "No, they're not. No one is. Ever again."

That's kind of a grand and sweeping statement to make.

Then Meg phones, upping the stakes yet again. It tickles me that the first thing Dean does when he hears it's her is look out of the window, just in case. Meg demands to speak to John; Sam plays dumb and pretends he doesn't know where John is. It's not such an empty bluff – he hasn't known where John was all season. But things are different now, and they all know it. Meg demands again, and Sam hands the phone over. John is the head of the house and the commanding officer here, like it or not.

Meg strikes below the belt at once, gloating to John about Pastor Jim's murder, striking at a raw wound. Pastor Jim has clearly been a good friend for many years. His death is still fresh. It's a tactic designed to knock him off balance and it works. He's still just a man.

Meg is now in Lincoln, she tells John, visiting another old friend of his. Caleb. Same guy that called with the news of Jim's death earlier, and who John actually answered the phone for. Another good friend. And although we've never seen him before, we've heard of him a few times, and the scene of Meg murdering him while on the phone to John works well through the reactions of the characters. The stakes are being upped dramatically.

Why can't any of these people we've heard the boys refer to all season be allowed to live so we can meet them properly later and see how they interact with the boys in person?!

MEG: "We know you have the gun, John. Word travels fast. So as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties…. So, this is the thing. We're gonna keep doing what we're doing, and your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter…anyone you ever loved: they'll all die unless you give us that gun."

And John actually agrees, not willing to risk any more of his friends. So there is a sentimental side to John where his friends are concerned, and we've seen a fair bit of that in this episode. Just not so much of it where his sons are concerned, which is where I really want to see it.

There's so much about John that we don't know, only ever catching glimpses of his story, mostly through the eyes of his sons. Even now, agreeing to Meg's demands, how many possible endgames is he playing out in his head?

SAM: "So you think Meg is a demon?"

He sounds so incredulous. Why? I thought they'd established that back in Shadow. She's either a demon, or possessed by one, and John is determined to go to Lincoln for the meet she's just set up –

But this is John. Of course he isn't going to just hand the gun over. He's too driven, too focused for that. Revenge on the demon that killed Mary has been his primary motivation for the past 22 years, and he has sacrificed a lot in pursuit of it. Even the brutal murders of his closest friends and allies are not enough to make him let go of it; they succeed only in forcing him to alter course and re-draw his plans.A fake gun won't buy them much time, but he'll take anything he can get.

JOHN: "I just need to buy a few hours, that's all."
SAM: "You mean for Dean and me. You want us to stay here, and kill this demon by ourselves?"

There, now, isn't he glad he's got the family together again? After all, for one thing, if he didn't have the boys with him, they could also be used against him just like Caleb and Pastor Jim, just like they were in Shadow. Out of sight was never really any safer, it just allowed him to kid himself it was.

John: "No, Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home. I want Mary alive…. I just want this to be over."

Thank you! For almost the first time I'm really feeling for John – feeling the burden he took upon himself all those years ago and has been carrying ever since, weighing him down, holding him back – crippling both him and his family. That little speech tells us that the part of John which is a loving, caring father, buried beneath layers of head-nosed pragmatism and a festering desire for vengeance as it is, recognises the individual needs and desires of his sons.

And he chooses to ignore those needs and desires in his long-running pursuit of revenge at all costs.

Yup. There's that sense of doom building up and up nicely throughout this episode. The ominous music helps with that.

And, to add – while Sam argues, Dean stays quiet and just looks so sad.

Just as in Dead Man's Blood, Dean is the one who gets sent off to run errands – this time to procure the fake Colt. Is this because John automatically gets Dean to run his errands for him? Or is it John's way of spending some time alone with Sam after their long estrangement?

DEAN: "You know this is a trap, don't you? That's why Meg wants you to come alone."

John knows, but he's got a glint in his eyes now – target in sight. This is what he's waited for, prepared for, for so many years. He's totally focused, rattles off a list of the arsenal he's carrying. Confident. Over-confident, perhaps. Talking about inconsequentialities to avoid discussing what's really important. But Dean doesn't let him off the hook, and this is Dean, who avoids the subject of anything remotely personal like the plague. But this is too important. Masks off, and cards on the table.

DEAN: "Dad, promise me something. If this thing goes south, just get the hell out. Don't get yourself killed. You're no good to us dead."

And there's just enough of a hitch in his voice as he says it. Perfect. Keeping his family alive is what Dean cares about, over and above everything else, and he can see clearly where his father's obsession with revenge may well be leading him – and Sam, too, come to that. Where Sam and John are now completely in tune, with the demon in their sights, Dean's has become the voice of caution. And there really is a 'headlong into battle, come back bearing our shields or borne upon them' feel to all this.

There are only four bullets left in the real Colt, so they have to make every one count. And viewers everywhere start to wonder why The Demon is so worried about the darn gun, if there are only four shots left in it. Why not just manufacture reasons to have the remaining bullets wasted?

JOHN: "I've been waiting a long time for this fight, and now it's here, I'm not going to be in it. It's up to you boys now. It's your fight. You finish this. You finish what I've started. You understand?"

He hands the Colt to Dean. Second in command, as always, which, as mentioned earlier, is a large part of Sam's bone of contention, albeit unvoiced in those terms. If you join the army or sign up for a large corporation, you are there by choice and can work your way through the system. But your position within the family structure is assigned to you at birth, with no hope of promotion: it's yours for life. How do you spread your wings and learn to fly solo from within those confines when family and work are one and the same thing? That's the question Sam has struggled with for so long, with walking away completely the only answer he could come up with as a frustrated and rebellious teen. Within his family, Sam will always be the baby, no matter how old he is, no matter how experienced he is, and he's still young enough to find that deeply frustrating most of the time. But none of that matters here and now. No more arguing, no more questions – this time they are playing as a team, working toward a shared goal, and the stakes are too high for dissent.

On the phone to Meg, John said it was impossible to get to Lincoln in the time frame she specified. And then he waited around for Dean to get the fake gun. And yet he seems to make pretty good time on the road…. So, he was just stalling, playing games of his own to counter hers. How valid of a threat was it, anyway? 'Get here by midnight or we'll kill more of your friends' – I'm guessing his friends are all scattered across the country anyway. How quickly could the demon take them out? How quickly could John ring around them all and put them on their guard? How far and wide could this war spread? How ugly could it become before the end?

The point is, John gets to the warehouse for the meet long before Meg does, which gives him time to do a quick recce and get the lie of the land. Time to make preparations.

Meanwhile, Dean and Sam play stalker outside Monica's house. Because there's nothing suspicious about that. Both are tense. This is large, and all they can do is wait.

SAM: "We could tell them there's a gas leak. Might get them out of the house for a few hours."
DEAN: "Yeah, how many times has that actually worked for us?"

LOL – nice recognition of the fact that their cover stories rarely stand up to persistent enquiry.

SAM: "Could always tell them the truth…"
They look at one another.
BOTH, in unison: "Nah."

I love when they do that.

Sam is starting to get seriously wound up, unable to stop thinking about what is coming for these people, remembering what it has done to their lives. He's introspective. He can't help it; it's who he is. Dean, on the other hand, is a practical soul right to his very core, and promptly falls back on his lifetime's habit of telling his little brother whatever he needs to hear to calm him down and keep him focused. Dean is the backbone of the family; he's the one that holds everything and everyone together.

SAM: "Wonder how Dad's doing?"
DEAN: "I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up."
SAM: "I'd feel a lot better if he was here backing us up."

Which is, of course, the eternal dilemma of having two crises at once and being forced to divide your strength. Which is exactly what the demon wanted, and the whole point of Meg's little exercise.

Back at the warehouse in Lincoln, John finds a water tank and, well, blesses it. Make-your-own holy water, I guess, which is an interesting concept. Useful tip for wannabe demon hunters.

Sitting in the car outside that house in Salvation, Sam still just can't stop the introspection – can't not think about this moment they are facing, what they've been working toward all their lives, and what that means. He needs to say it out loud, talk it all through. Dean, on the other hand, won't let himself think about that – he has to approach it as just another job, just like any other: go in there and get it done.

SAM: "Dean, uh, I wanna thank you."
DEAN: "For what?"
He looks genuinely puzzled, as well, about where this is coming from. Chalk and cheese, these boys. Sam looks to the future; Dean lives very much in the here and now.
SAM: "For everything. You've always had my back, you know. Even when I couldn't count on anyone, I could always count on you. And, uh, I don't know – I just want to let you know. Just in case."

Aww. It's nice to hear him acknowledging his brother's steadfast support. Dean is the one person in Sam's life who has genuinely always been there for him, apart from those four years of estrangement when Sam was at college. Even then, though, you could make the case: if Sam had called to ask for Dean's help during those four years he was away, Dean would have been there like a shot, no question. I don't think the reverse is true, though, which is sad. The Pilot showed us that.

Anyway, we all know how well Dean takes the mushy stuff, even when things are at their direst… He's just not prepared to listen to this, to hear the implications. Not here, not now.

DEAN: "Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you kidding me? Don't say 'just in case something happens to you', I don't want to hear that freaking speech, man. Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody. Except that demon. That evil son-of-a-bitch isn't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?"

Dean is not prepared to lose any more of his family to this thing – where this demon is concerned, Sam and John have got a lot more in common with each other than either of them does with Dean.

It's interesting. This entire season has been telling us Sam's story, Sam's imram, Sam's journey, with the stories of those around him, his brother in particular, woven through it. And yet Dean's point of view tends to come across a lot more strongly than Sam's, especially so here in this two-part season finale. Maybe the writing intended it that way. Maybe it's due to the relative strengths and weaknesses of the actors. It's interesting.

Back to the warehouse. John has come alone. Meg hasn't, although her nameless companion isn't all that chatty. He's amusing, though – testing the gun on Meg wins him my approval. Her disgruntled reaction is priceless, and even John is shocked. He's in trouble now.

MEG: "You're dead, John. Your boys are dead."

Another low blow. The boys are John's biggest weakness, and that hasn't yet been used against him to any real effect, not even in Shadow. And it still isn't here. John bluffs and lies and evades, while backing toward the escape route he prepared earlier.

MEG: "I'm so not in the mood for this, I've just been shot."
JOHN: "Well, then, I guess you're lucky the gun wasn't real."
MEG: "That was funny, John. We're going to strip the skin from your bones, but that was funny."

Thus caught out in his ruse, without having bought much in the way of time for his sons at all, John takes the first opportunity he gets to make a break for it.

And his impromptu holy water really does work. I'm not sure why, though – Meg demonstrated earlier in the episode that she was perfectly capable of stepping onto hallowed ground and entering a church. But she's scared of the burn of a little holy water? The rules are very fuzzy. John hangs around to gloat over this success for way too long though. Again, this is where Dean gets his cockiness from.

At the house, just as Dean starts to fret about John not answering his phone and Sam takes his turn at offering reassurance, flickering lights, a sudden breeze, and EVP on the radio announce the imminent arrival of the demon. Not terribly stealthy, is it? And at this stage I start to resent cutting back to John's escape attempt – much as I want him to escape, despite not being his biggest fan – because I want to see the boys!

John's tyres have been slashed. Now, I know driving on four flat tyes wouldn't be the most comfortable experience in the world, nor the best thing for his car's health, perhaps, but surely it would work out at least marginally better than trying to escape on foot from those two deadly demons he's got on his tail? They've got him on the run and seriously rattled. Twenty-two years of searching, and yet he really isn't as ready for this as he thought he was.

The boys break into Monica's house. Dean picks the lock this time – isn't that usually Sam's thing? Apparently, they aren't quite as stealthy as they could have been, as Mr Monica seems tremendously alert and is instantly onto them. Maybe the flickering lights had him on his guard already. Dean has to tackle him out of sheer self-preservation, and then attempts to reason with him while Sam charges up to the nursery. John gave the Colt to Dean earlier. But it is Sam wielding it here at the crunch. He gets there just in time to shoot at The Demon and save Monica, who is already pinned to the wall and beginning her ascent to the ceiling.

However, The Demon – or incorporeal demonic figure, apparently – instantly turns to black mist and evades the bullet. That's a bullet wasted, right? Dean then comes charging in, and Sam hauls Monica out while Dean grabs the baby, not a second too soon, as the crib bursts into flames.

Dean skin! Okay, so it was for a split second, but still.

There's something tremendously appropriate about Dean yet again being the one to carry the baby out of the burning house. But what the hell is the point of the crib catching fire if the demon wants the baby? Maybe it's just pissed off at being stopped, in this instance. It's usually the body of the mother that catches fire, rather than the crib, as far as we know.

All those other fires, every other time – there has to be something just as important about the fire as about the age of the child and the murder of the mother. There is always fire, and therefore always the possibility of the child being immolated in that fire along with his or her mother. We remain in the dark about The Demon's methods and motivations.

Back to John's escape attempt and he hauls his mobile phone out, but before he can dial he is pinned onto and up the wall by an invisible force emanating from Meg's nameless companion. Caught.

Then back to the house – the windows blowing out in flame is pretty impressive. I'm guessing the demon isn't happy at missing its shot with the baby. I'm also guessing the ritual of slicing the mother on the ceiling above the crib on that particular night is pretty important, because, I mean, honestly – if it really wanted to kill them all and take the baby, it could do it with them outside on the lawn. It is clearly powerful enough. Taking the baby doesn't seem to be its thing, though. It didn't take Sam, and it didn't take Max. It doesn't take Rosie. Physical possession of these children isn't the agenda, but we don't know yet what is.

Mr Monica is already outside when the others come running out. So, his house was bursting into flame, with these strangers following his wife upstairs to the baby's nursery, and he didn't give chase to save them? He seethes, not knowing what the hell is going on. Monica doesn't know either, but she is clear on one thing – these mysterious midnight intruders saved both her and her baby. She thanks them. I knew I liked Monica.

Wonder what the future holds for little Rosie now? She was chosen by The Demon for a reason, just as Sam was, just as Max was. There's a link, a connection. It may never be explored, though.

Sam sees the demon still inside the burning house, boils over with rage, and tries to rush back inside, into the fire, to try to finish it off. Because shooting at it worked so well when he tried earlier. But Dean hauls him back before he can take more than a couple of steps.

DEAN: "It's burning to the ground, it's suicide."
SAM: "I don't care!"
Dean: "I do!"

Again, there's that clear and present distinction between them, such different outlooks on this thing. Sam wants that demon dead, at all costs, whereas Dean sees a price he's not willing to pay.

Back at the motel, Dean paces and frets about not being able to get through to John, while Sam sits and broods.

SAM: "If you had just let me go in there, I could have ended all this."

Nice work by Jared – anger and emotion just about choking his voice there. Right here and right now, with the memory of those flames tonight bringing back so many painful memories of another night that exploded into flame, all he can see is his need for revenge. It blinds him to everything else, the way it has blinded John for so many years.

Dean sees things differently. As usual. For Sam – and John, too – those flames are a reminder of their burning need for revenge. For Dean, those flames are a reminder of loss that he isn't prepared to experience again. He makes it clear that for all his dedication to the hunt, where his family is concerned there is a line that he will never cross.

DEAN: "Sam, the only thing you would have ended was your life."
SAM: "You don't know that."
DEAN: "So, what? You're willing to just sacrifice yourself, is that it?"
SAM: "Yeah. Yeah, you're damn right I am."
DEAN: "Yeah, well, that's not going to happen, not as long as I'm around."
SAM: "What the hell are you talking about, Dean? We've been searching for this demon our whole lives. It's the only thing we've ever cared about."
DEAN: "Sam, I wanna waste it. I do. But it's not worth dying over."
SAM: "What?"
DEAN: "I mean it. If hunting this demon means you get yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing."

How I love protective big brother Dean! And the irony is that he's telling Sam he shouldn't sacrifice himself for this thing, when Dean is always the first to sacrifice himself in other episodes. The difference being that Dean will risk his life to save his family, or other innocent lives; Sam wanted to risk his life not to save anyone, but out of blind desire for revenge. And Dean's point is completely valid: running into a burning house when you clearly have no chance at all is just dumb.

SAM: "That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom."
DEAN: "You said yourself, once, that no matter what we do, they're gone, and they're never coming back."

Full circle. Sam tried that line back in the Pilot, and Dean reacted there much the way that Sam reacts now. Anger and frustration boiling over, he grabs his brother and shoves him hard against the wall, furious, his voice thick with emotion.

SAM: "Don't say that! Don't you…. Not after all this, don't you say that."

The tremor in Dean's voice matches him perfectly as he makes no attempt to fight back or push Sam away. He just says his piece with a little hitch in his voice and those big, intense eyes. Excellent work by Jared and Jensen in an incredibly intense scene.

DEAN: "Sam, look. The three of us, that's all we have. And it's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, man. Without you and Dad…"

'It's all I have.' Dean very rarely asks for anything for himself, but he's asking now: asking for the lives of the people he cares about, asking them to put family ahead of revenge, to put life ahead of death.

And Sam snaps back to the here and now and the what's at stake once more – John should have checked in by now, he hasn't, so the could've and should've about what was or wasn't done can wait. And while Sam's getting his head around that, Dean just looks exhausted, and the night isn't over yet.

Dean rings John's phone again. And Meg answers…

…to be continued in the finale…

And…wow. That was an incredibly intense, exhausting and fantastic hour of television!



*And the lyrics, for anyone who's interested:

Carry on Wayward Son – Kansas

"Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Once I rose above the noise and confusion
Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion
I was soaring ever higher
But I flew too high

Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming
I can hear them say

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man, well
It surely means that I don't know

On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune
But I hear the voices say

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
No!

Carry on, you will always remember
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor
Now your life's no longer empty
Surely heaven waits for you"


August 2006

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