"You're all so connected, but you've never been so alone."

"I've got a year to live, Sam. I'd like to make the most of it. So what do you say we kill some evil sons of bitches and we raise a little hell?"

Then.

John Winchester died, and Dean struggled badly to come to terms with his loss.

Ruby admitted to Dean that she couldn't save him from the consequences of his crossroads deal, and Dean learned that when he went to hell he would eventually become a demon.

Sam promised to find a way to save his brother. With that end in mind, he confronted the crossroads demon, and killed her with the Colt on learning that Dean's contract was held by another demon whose identity she refused to share.

Ruby told the brothers all about the big new up-and-comer of the demon world, known as Lilith, and Dean was taken aback to learn that Sam already knew something about it but hadn't shared this information.

Now.

It's night, and there's a storm raging. A man named Ben is puttering around in his office drinking whisky and looking troubled. The phone rings, and he becomes distressed, answering with deep reluctance. The caller ID reads SHA33. Remember that. It will feature prominently throughout this episode. The caller is a woman Ben identifies for us as Linda, who pleads to talk to him. His face and voice are filled with grief as he insists that she can't keep calling him, and it is nicely misleading, as viewers automatically assume that he's been having an affair and is trying to bring it to an end now.

"Just tell me you've thought about it, at least," Linda pleads.
"I can't. You know I can't. My wife…" Ben almost sobs, distressed.
"I'm begging you. Come to me," Linda tearfully urges.

Ben stays strong and refuses, putting the phone down. It rings again immediately. Ben answers and begs Linda to leave him alone, and so far this is playing as a classic case of the jilted mistress stalking her married lover, but all is not as it seems. Linda pleads that she misses Ben, that they could be happy. He despairs that this is crazy. "I love you. Forever," Linda insists. "Don't you love me?" Ben has to admit that he does, but tells her he's sorry and hangs up again. Once you know the truth, that she is his high school sweetheart who has been dead 20 years or more, boy, it's all kinds of sad that although his life has moved on he has clearly never really got over it, if hearing her voice again can invoke such an intense reaction. You never forget your first love.

The phone keeps ringing. Ben slams the receiver down again and again, and then throws the whole phone across the room, ripping the plug out of the wall. But this is Supernatural. It is obvious that simply unplugging the phone is not going to help.

The broken telephone starts ringing again. Ben is horrified, and despairs of ever being free of the dead lover haunting him by telephone. Unable to silence the phone, he reaches into a desk drawer and pulls out a gun.

I'm kind of glad I don't live in a country where people so casually keep firearms around the house as a matter of course.

"Okay, Linda. You win. I'm coming," says Ben, and blows his brains out.

Titles.

Dean is sitting on a bench in the middle of some town square or other in the pouring rain, talking on his cell phone as Sam slouches his way across the square toward him. Finishing the call, and his snack, Dean tosses a can of something or other to his brother, who wasn't expecting it but reacts in time to catch the drink he now cannot open, because of the fizz.

"So?" Dean asks, and Sam has to admit that the professor he's been talking to doesn't know anything. "Shocking." Dean rolls his eyes, unsurprised, this reaction telling us everything we needed to know about just how well the brothers' deal-breaking research is continuing to work out. "Pack your panties, Sammy. We're hitting the road."

Sam is startled and anxiously asks what's up, no doubt automatically assuming that Dean's hurry to get underway is connected to a potential lead. Dean explains that he was just talking to Bobby, and we aren't told who called who, but Dean recaps the story of the banker blowing his head off in Ohio and explains that Bobby thinks there's a spirit involved.

"So you two were talking a case?" Sam can't believe it.
"No, actually, we were talking about our feelings. And then our favourite boy bands," Dean sardonically retorts. Heh. That, I would love to see! "Yeah, we were talking a case."

I've seen a lot of people assuming that it was Bobby who called Dean with this job, for whatever reason, which would seem incredibly callous and insensitive at this stage, since Dean's time is almost up and he and Sam have clearly been burying themselves deep in the search for a way out of the crossroads deal lately. We aren't told who called who, but I tend to think it is far more likely that Dean called Bobby, and said words to the effect of: "I'm going crazy here, man, you've gotta give me something to do to take my mind off all this," and that Bobby just couldn't find it in his heart to say no since it could easily be the last thing Dean ever asks of him.

I wonder if Bobby is hoping the boys will pay him a final visit before the end, or if they've already said their goodbyes – I tend to doubt the latter, Dean and Bobby being who they are, so the former is rather more likely. I'm going to guess that Bobby is highly likely to make an appearance for the finale, going on past form.

Sam is having trouble following all this, but not because there's anything hard to understand about the evidence pointing to a spirit. "But, Dean – we're on a case," he points out.
"Whose?" Dean looks genuinely perplexed. I doubt he sees his own situation as a case; it's a problem. Cases are what happen to other people.
"Yours," Sam firmly tells him.
Dean immediately turns away, uncomfortable. "Right. Yeah. Could have fooled me."
"What the hell else have we been doing lately other than trying to break your deal?" Sam pointedly protests.
Dean turns back. "Chasing our tails, that's what."
Sam sighs, unable to argue that one.
"Sam, we've talked to every professor, witch, soothsayer, and two-bit carnie act in lower 48. Nobody knows squat," Dean argues. "And we can't find Bela, we can't find the Colt, so until we actually find something, I'd like to do my job."

There's no heat here, no real anger with one another. The bickering is all low-level frustration, but with gut-wrenching anguish hiding behind it on both sides, just waiting to be unleashed. Sam looks tired – he's clearly been doing nothing but deal-breaking research for weeks with this only spinning him around in ever-decreasing circles, one desperate wild goose chase after another with no solutions anywhere in sight. And Dean clearly just cannot stand the focus on himself and what is about to happen to him any longer, needs action and diversion to keep his mind off his fast-approaching fate.

I'm a little curious to know why finding Bela and the Colt is so important in connection to the crossroads deal. Are they hoping the contract-holding demon will show up in person to collect, and stand still long enough for them to take it out? Or is the plan to try to shoot off a few of the hellhounds when they come snapping at Dean's heels? Either way, it seems a vain hope – but at this stage, any hope is better than none.

Sam says that there's one thing they haven't tried yet. Dean immediately argues against this without waiting to hear him say it, but Sam insists.

Sam: "We should summon Ruby."
Dean: "I'm not going to have this fight with you."
Sam: "She says she knows how to save you."
Dean: "Well, she can't."
Sam: "Oh, really. You know that for sure?"
Dean: "I do."
Sam: "How?"
Dean: "Because she told me, okay?"

Oh, man. Sam is shocked and dismayed. He was counting so much on that as the final ace up his sleeve, if all else failed. Dean is also dismayed – he really didn't mean to let it slip. "She told me, flat out, that she could not save me. Nobody can," he elaborates, unable to avoid explaining now that he's said this much. And he can't look Sam in the eye as he says it, because this is an admission of defeat. He's allowed Sam to hold on to that last tiny shred of hope for as long as possible, but now even that hope is crushed. Sam absorbs what his brother is saying, blinking back tears, his dismay crystallizing into resolve. "And you just somehow neglected to mention this to me?" he grits.

"Well, you know, I really don't care what that bitch thinks, and neither should you." Dean tries to brush it off. And yet for someone who distrusts any and every demon so intensely, he was awfully willing to believe Ruby when she told him there was no way of saving him, probably because it was what he expected to hear. He never believed that Sam could trust her oh-so convenient promises, and has never really believed that there was any way to save him, and everything that's happened in the last year, every dead end, has only served to reinforce that conviction.

"So, what – now you're keeping secrets from me, Dean?" Sam snips.
"You really want to talk about who's keeping secrets from who?" Dean counters.

Oh boy. That's a tiny exchange, just two short sentences, but it conveys so much. We, as viewers, know perfectly well that Sam has been keeping enormous secrets from Dean all season. Dean found out just a tiny portion of those secrets in Jus in Bello, with Ruby's reveal that Sam is a major target of the new Big Bad. After a minor dig at Sam at the time, he let that go. They had bigger fish to fry just then. And now, with that little swipe at his brother, we know that he knows – or at least suspects – that there is a lot more that Sam isn't telling him. There is. Of course there is. But he doesn't push for it. He can't. There just isn't time. He can't do it to himself, can't afford to spend what little time he has left locking horns with Sam or worrying himself sick about the mess he's leaving behind. Similarly, even if Sam were inclined to share what he knows – if Sam had room in his head to even think about any of that right now – this just isn't the time. Not when Dean has so little time left. So here Dean is simply letting Sam know that he knows, and using the guilt trip as a tool to get his brother off his back and cooperating.

Sam seethes a moment longer, then strides away across the square, flinging his unopened drink into the trash as he passes. Nice shot, but such a waste! Dean sighs and rolls his eyes and asks where his brother is going. Sam waves his arms and drama queens that he guesses he's going to Ohio. This is Sam's first breaking point in the episode, and it's awful because in a way giving in on this is an admission of defeat. Dean needs to do this, and Sam can't say no to his brother, but going along with the diversion states clearly that he doesn't have anything better to suggest. There is nowhere else to look. Ruby was the only card he had up his sleeve, and now even that has been taken from him. Oh, Sam. Oh, Dean.

Milan, Ohio. The Impala pulls up outside banker Ben's house. Inside, Ben's wife leads the be-suited brothers into Ben's study and explains where she found his body. Running appraising eyes over the room, Dean rather absently asks her to tell them everything she saw. "You mean besides my dead husband?" she snips. Sam quickly steps in to smooth the way, adopting his very best mild-manners and puppy-dog eyes to soothe and cajole her into cooperation, in a wonderful return to form. These particular roles have been reversed so often this season, it's good to see the brothers acting like their old selves while interviewing a witness!

Mrs Ben vagues that there was blood everywhere, and as an afterthought adds that the phone was ripped from the wall. Now, I'm no expert, and of course she is grieving and in shock and whatever, but me, I'd immediately assume the damage to the phone to be the kind of detail the cops were looking for. The brothers' interest is immediately piqued and Sam asks why the phone was ripped from the wall. Mrs Ben neither knows nor cares. Not the most cooperative witness ever. Sam asks if he can take a look at the phone and she pissily rolls her eyes as she assents.

Sam goes to look at the phone, as Mrs Ben bitches about how she already went over all this with the other detectives. Dean doesn't offer any excuses, just promises that they'll be out of her way in no time. Sam quickly finds the SHA33 caller ID and checks with Mrs Ben that the call was made at around about the same time Ben died, shortly after 11pm, tapping the phone to indicate to Dean that he's found something. Dean picks up the cue and asks about strange phone calls – interference, static, anything like that. Mrs Ben defensively denies anything of the kind, but Dean smells a rat and presses her.

"Mrs Waters, withholding information from the police is a capital offence," Dean warns. Mrs Ben frowns in bewilderment at the overkill and Sam hastily clears his throat to catch his brother's attention, so he can deliver a warning shake of the head: don't push it. Dean rolls his eyes and mutters: "in some parts of the world, I'm sure." Hee.

Mrs Ben sighs and gives in and admits that a couple of weeks ago she woke up one morning and heard Ben on the phone in his study. She picked up the other line because she was afraid he was talking to another woman. His use of the name Linda was something of a giveaway there. But when she picked up the other line, there was no one there – Ben was talking to nobody, and there was just static on the line. She admits that she never spoke to her husband about this strange call, and now regrets that.

Motel. Dean is researching on the Internet, while Sam lounges on the bed. That's not their usual habit. Also, Sam has taken the bed nearest to the door, we should note – it isn't the first time, but isn't usual. So far so abnormal. Dean's research reveals that Linda was Ben's high school sweetheart, who was killed when a drunk driver hit their car. For now, it looks like a standard haunting – dead flame calling to chat, for whatever reason – except that Linda was cremated, so there are no clues as to why she's still floating around, or why she's waited until now to start tormenting Ben.

Dean asks Sam about the caller ID – ah, apparently Sam was investigating that angle, presumably by means other than online, while Dean used the laptop to research Linda; Sam just finished first. Sam has learned that it is a real phone number – or rather, was. The number is about a century old. The brothers marvel at the weirdness of this, and agree that they need to run a trace on the number, although just how is another matter entirely.

Phone Company. An official by the name of Clark escorts Dean and Sam down into the basement, remarking that they don't get many visits from HQ. "Yes, well, the main office mentioned that there would be a lunch…" Dean offers. Aww. Dean angling for free food. It's like old times. The look Sam shoots his brother behind Clark's back is perfect. Sam has never come to terms with Dean's eating habits and love of free food. Dean shrugs it off. Clark schmoozes that he's sure something can be arranged, and explains that the man they need to speak to is right this way. As he speaks, a fly flies right into Sam's ear, causing him to recoil and flap at it in disgust. And that moment, right there, is when canny viewers know for sure that whatever is going on, the cause of it is right here at the phone company. On this show, flies are always a sure sign of trouble. Clark apologises that they have something of a hygiene problem down here, and carries on.

The brothers have changed into different suits than they were wearing to interview Mrs Ben – these look like the ones they bought way back in Phantom Traveler to impersonate homeland security.

Clark leads the brothers into a fly-infested server room wherein a little tech by the name of Stewie is enjoying himself with a spot of online porn. Being so rudely interrupted, he frantically tries to close all the windows, only for the pop ups to just keep coming and coming, betraying him. Both brothers look deeply amused. Clark introduces them to Stewie as Mr Campbell and Mr Raimi, for those of us keeping track of fake IDs. Stewie hurriedly crosses his legs as he swings around to face the visitors. Heh.

Once Clark is out of the room, Stewie asks if he can help the brothers. Dean nods at the screen behind him. "Is that bustyasianbeauties.com?" Stewie automatically denies it, but then turns to see that the porn site has popped back up on his screen. He rushes to get rid of it again. Dean cheerfully offers that the platinum membership is worth every penny. Bustyasianbeauties was the site Sam's laptop got stuck on way back in Tall Tales. Show has a long memory.

Sam cuts in that they are there to trace a number, and hands the details over. Stewie is amazed, all the more so when he hears that they took the number off caller ID, protesting that to be impossible. Dean agrees that the number hasn't been used in a few years. Stewie declares that the number is prehistoric and that nobody could possibly be using it any more. Sam politely asks him to run the number anyway. Stewie scowls a sarcastic reply, and Dean takes offence, as he always does when anybody disses his little brother.

"Listen, Stewie." Dean steps forward to tower over the little tech, who cowers in his seat. "You've got, like, six kinds of employee code violation down here, not to mention the sickening porn clogging up your hard drive. When my partner says run the number, I suggest you run the number."

Heh. Good cop and bad cop all rolled into one. I love it when Dean gets stern. Stewie nervously glances from Dean's glower, a couple of inches from his face, to Sam's equally severe expression, quails, and gets right on it. Dean takes a step back to grin at Sam in triumph, and Sam is equally pleased at how well the ruse worked. Hee. It's fun to see their reaction to their success in pulling off the assumed personas, all the more so having had the opposite point of view in the last episode, when we saw how it felt to be on the receiving end. Makes for a nifty contrast in perspectives. It is so easy to forget, watching them pull off fake identity after fake identity so effortlessly, that they have no legal authority whatsoever and rely on extremes of subterfuge for interviews like this, generally making it up as they go along.

Stewie quickly pulls up a list of ten houses that have been called by the mysterious SHA33 in the last two weeks, although he can't tell where it comes from. The most recent call on this list is dated 26^th April. We learned in Ghostfacers, the events of which took place on February 29^th, that Dean had just two months left to live, and the Season Two Companion further suggests that the crossroads deal will come due on Sam's birthday, May 2^nd. So if it is now the end of April, time is just about up. Dean is down to his last few days. That is…absolutely terrifying. No wonder Sam didn't want to take this case, wanted to keep his head down and continue to bury himself in frantic last minute research, no matter how futile, and no matter that every potential lead had already been exhausted. No wonder they both looked so defeated when Dean admitted that Ruby couldn't help him, for all her promises to Sam. No wonder Dean is so desperate to do something else, for distraction from their failure to come up with any solutions, for anything that would keep his mind off what lies ahead of him so very soon. Oh, boys.

Stewie is a midget alongside Dean and Sam. Just saying. Once he has handed the list over, he is keen for the brothers to leave him alone again, having been 'busy' when they arrived. They take his meaning and make themselves scarce.

Street. A rental car pulls up outside a random house, and Sam climbs out. Sam's driving a rental! A modern car with a remote! Sam! Rental! That has never happened before, ever, in three seasons. I mean, it's very practical, and all, using two cars so that the brothers can split up and cover more ground more quickly. It's just really, really strange to see. They must be feeling flush, somehow. They must also be making the most of not having the FBI on their tails any more.

I wonder if either brother has stopped to consider making provision for the fact that Dean has always been the breadwinner of the family and that when he is gone, as is looking highly likely at the moment, Sam is going to have to find means of his own for financial survival.

I'm a little surprised that Sam is so willing to let Dean out of his sight so much during this case. With eternal separation so imminent – not to mention the memories of Mystery Spot still very vivid – you'd think he'd want to make the most of every moment they can possibly spend together. On the other hand, though, the faster they resolve this case the faster they can get back to that futile deal-breaking research, just in case of last minute miracles. If dividing the workload gets the job done that much faster, so be it.

Sam knocks at the door, and a very normal middle-aged guy answers, a little boy at his side. Sam introduces himself as a representative of the phone company and smoothly lies that there have been a lot of complaints from the neighbourhood lately about dropped calls, static, even strange voices on the line. Without asking to see any ID to prove the veracity of the visit, the father shrugs that they've not experienced anything of the kind in his house. A teenage girl has come into the hallway behind him and looks alarmed, however. Sam notices, and is curious.

Sam heads back to the car. He looks really good in that suit. Just saying. He unlocks the car, opens the door, and is then surprised when the girl from the house pops up behind him to challenge that there is no way he works for the phone company.

Sam, Sam. You are supposed to be a badass hunter. So how come a stroppy teenage girl can manage to sneak up on you like that?

Sam shrugs that of course he works for the phone company. The girl, whose name is Lanie, snorts that there is no way a representative of the phone company would be driving a rental or wearing a cheap suit. Oy! Cheap or no, I like the suit. Sammy looks good in it. I'm surprised she doesn't rag on his hair, as well, since that's always a bit hit-or-miss, but it is looking pretty good in this episode. Sam is more amused by the challenge than anything, and suggests that maybe they are both keeping secrets.

Prickly and belligerent, Lanie asks why Sam asked about strange voices on the phone. Sam counters with another question: did she hear something? Lanie is quick to deny it – too quick, not unlike Mrs Ben earlier.

"My mistake, I thought maybe you did," Sam mildly bluffs.
"Well, I didn't, okay?" Lanie snits.

Sam still seems mildly amused by her hostile and defensive attitude. I can't help thinking in this scene that maybe she reminds him of himself at the same age, since everything we've ever heard about the teenage Sam has suggested that he sported much the same attitude as this girl is displaying here.

Lanie bristles and hugs her arms across her chest and is uncomfortable. Sam gives her a moment to think. "Because, you know," he offers at length. "If you did, then I would have told you that I've been right where you're standing right now. Hearing things, even seeing things that couldn't be explained. And maybe I would have been able to help out a little bit."

Oh, how I love seeing the side of Sam that is so good at dealing with people, so sincere and sympathetic, effortlessly able to win the trust of strangers. Lanie is convinced and fearfully confesses that she's been talking on the phone to her mother – her mother, who has been dead for three years. Sam asks how often these calls happen. Lanie says that it started a week ago and there have been a few calls now.

"I thought I was going crazy, or something," she admits.
"Well, I can tell you one thing for sure," Sam assures her. "And you're going to have to go with me on this, okay? You're not crazy."

Lanie is deeply relieved to hear this, and I love Sam for giving her that reassurance. This is a character trait we see in Sam over and over: however reluctant he is to take on a case, while working it he always commits 100%.

Later. Sam is driving along in his rental car when the phone rings. It's Dean, who announces that the dead are calling people all over town. "I just talked to an 84-year-old grandmother who's having phone sex with her husband, who died in Korea," he marvels. "Completely rocked my understanding of the word necrophilia." Heh. Oh and, brilliantly, there's a girl walking past just as he says it, and she is disgusted to overhear that line, but Dean just automatically turns around to check her out as she walks away without even registering her reaction to what she heard, because he's too busy continuing the conversation. She's just scenery. The brothers agree that they have no idea what is going on, but need to find some answers soon.

Dean also looks mighty fine in his suit, let us note.

Dean's phone rings the moment he hangs up the call. He glances at caller ID, so you'd think he'd take note of the SHA33 number and be on his guard, but he doesn't seem to suspect anything out of the ordinary as he answers. In fact, he expects it to be Sam calling back.

"Dean? Dean, is that you?" the voice of John Winchester can be heard over the static. Shame Jeffrey Dean Morgan's name in the credits spoiled the surprise.

But oh, man, the look on Dean's face. "Dad?" he gasps, and how anyone can cram so much conflicting meaning and emotion into one tiny word is beyond me. There's I'm sorry and how could you do it? and I miss you and did I do the right thing? and why did you leave me? and who will look after Sammy? and I'm so scared, Dad, all rolled up into those three short letters. Oh, Dean.

Motel. The brothers are back in civvies. Sam expresses bewilderment as Dean explains about his little phone call from their almost-two years deceased father. A very troubled Dean doesn't know what to think. Sam cautiously asks what John sounded like. "Like Oprah," Dean snarks, irritated. "Like Dad. He sounded like Dad, what do you think?" Still trying to sound the development out, even less certain what to think than his brother, since he wasn't the one who heard the voice, Sam asks what John said. Dean's name, and then the call dropped out, Dean explains.

Dean's posture in this scene is perfect. He's pacing around the room kind of hunched in on himself, deeply disturbed by those five words in his father's voice, and highly agitated. John always did have an incredibly powerful effect on him, and it is not really surprising that this would hold true even now, maybe especially now, when he's in such extremis. He's come a long way since John died, but that kind of conditioning just doesn't go away. We are always in thrall to our parents, one way or another.

Sam thinks for a moment, looking stricken, and then confusedly asks why John would even call in the first place. "I don't know. Why are ghosts calling anybody in this town?" Dean frets. "But I mean, other people are hearing from their loved ones. Why can't we? It's at least a possibility, right?" Oh man, he sounds so broken and looks so hopeful, so desperately hopeful. He just so badly wants for Sam to tell him this is okay, that it really was John and that everything is going to be all right, that it is possible that for once in their lives something good could happen. He's missed his Dad so very much.

But although Sam can't deny the possibility that this is real, he looks very worried, and just doesn't know what to do with the information and the expectation Dean is laying before him. There has never been anything in their experience to suggest that hearing from the dead can ever be a good thing.

Dean sits down on the bed opposite Sam, eyes wide and anxious and hopeful. "What if it really is Dad? What happens if he calls back?" Sam doesn't know what he means. "What do I say?" Dean asks, like a little kid, so uncertain of himself it hurts. This is the effect that John Winchester has on his son, and always has. Oh, Dean.

Dean has been the better part of two seasons coming to terms with his father's death and with who John really was, both the good and the bad, gaining badly needed independence and growing into his own man. Alone, or with Sam, he can be so confident and assured. But John changes everything. He hears John's voice, just a couple of words, and they tap straight into his fear and his pain, his grief and his guilt. And, with his situation being what it is, hearing that voice turns him right back into the 12-year-old we met in A Very Supernatural Christmas, who believes so absolutely that his father is a superhero because clinging to that belief is the only way he can hold his fears at bay. He wants so badly to believe that this is real, that his Dad really has called from beyond the grave and that this isn't a terrible and dangerous thing.

That first phone call from 'John' is the moment everything changes for Dean, where this job is concerned. He's been focused until now on working this case as if everything is completely normal, keeping his mind off his own problems for just a little while longer. It's how he's got through the last few months. Ever since Dream a Little Dream of Me he's seemed tremendously at peace with himself, with all his doubts and fears out in the open, able to take refuge in his old habit of compartmentalising and living for the moment, very firmly not thinking about what lies ahead. But then he hears his Dad's voice, and all that resolve comes crashing down, and oh man. His face. His voice. Little boy lost. He's only got a few days left to live, and he's going to hell forever, where his soul will be burned away until there's nothing left but a demon where there used to be Dean, and he is terrified.

Sam is struggling to process, and not really as sensitive to his brother's unease as you'd expect, but he has been badly wrong-footed by this as well. "'Hello'?" is all he has to offer.

"'Hello'? That's what you come back with? 'Hello'?" Having been looking for rather more substantial guidance than this on such a painful and sensitive topic, Dean is disgusted. Sam stutters and is unable to come up with anything more useful, biting back his frustration and anxiety. Dean gets up and grabs his jacket. '"Hello'," he huffs again, annoyed, and walks out of the room. Dean always does need space when he's in any kind of emotional distress.

Sam is left alone feeling useless, anxious and unhappy, and the moment his brother is out of the door you can see all the worry come crashing down. He's been unable to help Dean out of the crossroads deal, no matter how hard he's tried, and now he's apparently unable to even help him deal with the emotional turmoil caused by this alleged phone call from beyond the grave. This is not going to do much good for Sam's morale.

Later. Still alone in the motel room, Sam sits on the sofa working at the laptop, which is on the low coffee table in front of him so that he's practically folded in half to see the screen. The door opens, and Sam's head whips around so fast he should have whiplash. He's been waiting, worried. It's Dean, of course, and he asks if his brother has found anything. Sam reports that after three hours he has found no reason why anything supernatural would be going on in this town.

"Wow, you'd think that Stanford education and a high school hook-up rate of 0.0 would produce better results than that," Dean cheerfully mocks, looking highly pleased with himself. Sam offers a tight smile and a 'hilarious' in response, having been on the receiving end of similar jibes most of his life. "Sammy, you're just looking in all the wrong places, pal," Dean announces, pulling a leaflet out of his inner pocket that he picked up from the motel pamphlet rack. He's such a practical soul. Milan, Ohio was the birthplace of Thomas Edison, he continues. Sam is unimpressed with the history lesson. Dean tells him to keep reading, so Sam obediently looks over the pamphlet. It doesn't take him long to spot whatever caught Dean's attention, and he quirks an eyebrow, clearly reaching much the same conclusion as his brother, who smirks his satisfaction.

Museum. The brothers have tagged onto a walking tour led by the most annoying guide ever. 'Talking with Spirits', declares a large exhibit poster in the foreground, which tells us loud and clear that we've reached whatever the brothers have come to see. Walking over to stand beside this poster, the guide announces that this is one of the museum's most unique and treasured possessions: Thomas Edison's 'spirit phone'. She exaggerates the air quotes massively, continuing to overuse them as she explains that, as well as being one of America's most beloved inventor's, Edison was a devout 'occultist', and created this spirit phone convinced it could be used to 'communicate' with the 'dead'. All quotation marks there are hers, not mine.

"What's with the quotey fingers?" a bemused Dean asides to Sam. Heh. This episode teeters close to the edge of unbearable angst throughout, albeit without ever going over, so the odd moments of levity we are given are very welcome.

As the guide gathers up her flock and briskly walks them away, the brothers hang back for a closer look at the spirit phone. Sam whips out Dean's homemade EMF meter to scan the ancient phone, but doesn't get so much as a blip. Aww. He's wearing his season one hoodie, once associated with emo college boy Sam, but last seen on cold and ruthless post-Dean Sam in Mystery Spot. Such contrasting associations for one jacket! Sam concludes that the phone resembles nothing so much as an old pile of junk, and Dean can only agree, observing that it isn't even plugged in. Sam postulates that it may not work like that, willing to stick with his brother's theory in the absence of anything better to follow up on. Dean notes that the phone is about the same age as the caller ID, but Sam wonders why it would suddenly start working now. Neither has any idea. "But as long as the mouldy are calling the freshers around here, it's the best reason we've got," Dean summarises.

I suppose at this stage they should now start investigating possible reasons for the spirit phone to become active – changes in circumstance, and the like. That would be the usual form for a spirit.

"So maybe it really is Dad," Dean concludes, gazing at the rusty old spirit phone as if it contains the secrets of the ages. He wants it to be John, needs it to be John, is desperate for his Dad to come and make it all better. So the blinkers are on. He's searching for any evidence he can find to support that theory, no matter how slight, and disregarding any thoughts to the contrary. And, you know…he saw his Dad crawl out of hell to save him at the end of last season. It's not just blind faith; he knows that John's spirit is out of hell and moved on to parts unknown, which means that believing him capable of using this spirit phone to make contact now, since other spirits appear to be doing likewise, isn't such a huge leap.

Motel. Night. Sam is fast asleep in bed, and his is definitely the bed nearest the door, in a marked break from the brothers' usual sleep patterns. I think this is the first time in three seasons that we've seen Sam so fast asleep. We've seen Dean sleeping deeply a few times, but usually catch Sam just as he wakes up.

Dean is not sleeping this time. He's sitting at the table resembling nothing so much as a statue, coffee in hand, phone alongside him, waiting – hoping – for another call. What must be going through his mind right now? Just days away from death and hell, his life for his brother's – just imagine the thoughts, the fears, the what ifs and the if onlys.

The phone rings and Dean snatches it up to answer before the second ring, hurrying into the bathroom so as not to disturb Sam. He's back to a normal ring tone now, after the musical one he had in season two.

"Dad? Is it really you?" Dean asks, glancing back to make sure that Sam isn't stirring before closing the bathroom door.
"It's me," says the voice of John Winchester.
"How can I be sure?" Dean presses, because for now at least he is retaining enough common sense and scepticism to at least ask the question.
"You can't," 'John' replies. "Dean, how could you do it?"
Dean is taken aback. "Do what?"
"Sell your soul," John reproachfully replies.

Oh, that's clever. That's very manipulative. Dean wasn't fully convinced, was heeding Sam's caution and asking all the right questions, trying to be sure, so the creature we later learn is posing as John, a Crocotta, snatches the rug out from under his feet with that very hurtful rebuke. Dean saw Sam's death as a direct result of his own failure to take proper care of his brother, after he'd promised both John and Sam that he would. He's never really felt that he lived up to the expectations his father heaped upon his shoulders; we've seen that many times. It's a huge part of why he made that deal in the first place, the overwhelming sense of having failed in his Dad-given duty to look after his little brother no matter what. So, with his own fate stemming directly from that perceived failure to protect Sam, a giant mess of his own making…he'd never expect anything but censure for it.

"I was looking after Sammy, like you told me to." Dean's voice is very small, and there's a break in it, and right here, this is the moment the Crocotta has him. From this point on he's scrambling to make up for his perceived failure, to regain his father's approval, which means following instructions and allowing Superhero John to save his life, no doubt or hesitation allowed.

John loved his son; there is absolutely no question of that. But the show has made it clear that he was always quicker to criticise than to praise, made Dean feel like a failure more often than not, and that's why the Crocotta's manipulations are so very effective, because they tap into those old, old wounds. Dean has healed a lot in the almost two years since John's death, has grown so much and gained so much independence, but the scars run very deep, and they haven't gone away. With Dean's current situation being as desperate as it is, it is horribly easy for the Crocotta to open up these old wounds and twist.

"I never wanted this," notJohn disapproves. "Never. You're my boy; I love you. I can't watch you go to hell, Dean."
"I'm sorry," Dean whispers. "I don't know how to stop it."
"'Cause if you break the deal, Sam dies, right?" notJohn acknowledges.
"What?" Dean is surprised that his dead father knows so much.
"Well, I know a way out, for both of you." NotJohn dangles the bait like meat on a hook.
"How?" Dean has believed his situation to be hopeless for so long. The prospect of salvation – coming from his father – has to be intoxicating.
"The demon who holds your contract," notJohn tells him. "It's here. Now."

Yep, this creature is really good at what it does: finds the exact right spot to apply pressure. First the reproof Dean would be expecting, followed by the affirmation and offer of salvation he craves. Under normal circumstances a statement like 'I love you' coming from John would be cause for the deepest of suspicion – just look at Dean's reaction to words of praise from his father in Devil's Trap, or his unease with John's open affection in In My Time Of Dying. But these are not normal circumstances, and the combination is more than sufficient to throw him well and truly off balance and keep him there, in his current state of mind. He's seemed to be coping remarkably well with his situation, keeping himself in the moment and not thinking about the future at all. But there are only a few days left and he is absolutely terrified, and notJohn just stripped away all his defences and laid them bare with a few well-placed words. He can't do anything other than cling to the sudden, impossible hope he's been offered.

Lanie's house. Young Lanie is typing away on her computer, saying goodnight to a friend before bed. But suddenly a message pops up from the mysterious ghostly SHA33. Lanie is stricken at this communication from her dead mother, craving it and fearing it and needing it and doubting it all at the same time, just like Dean. SHA33 asks Lanie if she's thought about the question she was asked last night.

Lanie doesn't understand what her 'mother' wants. SHA33 presses that she does know, that 'she' wants to see Lanie. Lanie types that she went to the cemetery. A graveside visit wasn't what SHA33 meant. Lanie types that she is scared – rightly so, given what she is being asked to do. SHA33 replies not to be scared, that 'she' is right there with her. Then the screen goes blank and Lanie about jumps out of her skin when she sees her reflection in the screen – and her dead mother appears behind her.

Here seems as good a place as any to regret that the plotting and structure of this episode are rather weaker than last week; the MO of the Crocotta is inconsistent, and its abilities are never made clear. So far it has been implied that it can mimic a dead person by telephone or email, and now we find that it can conjure up an image of the dead, as well. We are never told just how these abilities work, but it seems clear that it does not have to be close by to manipulate a chosen victim, instead able to monitor events long-distance. We are also never told just how it acquires such complete information about its victims and their lost loved ones. It later implies that it can pick all the information it needs out of the ether, tapping into old emails and voicemails, but surely, no matter how detailed, those could not give it as much insight as it displays into a person's relationship with the deceased. It seems more likely that it is able to delve into the minds of the people it meets, as so many other supernatural creatures do, perhaps establishing some kind of telepathic link that remains strong even over some distance – not unlike a shapeshifter. However, we simply aren't told, as the monster isn't fleshed out in any way, existing only as a vehicle for the story. It just goes to show how much we rely on expository conversations between the brothers, even now, for our understanding of the supernatural forces they do battle with!

Still, having said all that, telephone and Internet stalking is creepy. It's not your typical Supernatural creepy, but still creepy, because it is something that happens far too often in real life, without any monster or ghostly involvement.

Lanie freaks out and turns the computer off, quick smart, backs away trying not to hyperventilate, and starts to sob. The computer switches itself back on, and the words 'come to me' appear on the screen, over and over and over until the whole screen is full.

Motel. Day. Dean is busily working away on the laptop when Sam comes in. He asks what's up, and Sam explains about young Lanie being so badly spooked by her mother's ghost last night. Without looking up from his work, rifling through a stack of papers, Dean absent-mindedly commiserates. Sam asks what he's doing. "I think Dad's right," Dean announces. "I think the demon is here." He hands the papers over to Sam for his perusal.

The papers contain a bunch of weather reports. Sam is bemused and wonders how they are relevant. Dean fervently tells him they are demonic omens. "Electrical storms everywhere we've been for the past two weeks."

Sam very carefully says that he doesn't remember any lightning storms. Dean sniffs that he doesn't remember Sam ever studying meteorology, either, and insists that the deal-holding demon has been tailing him, "wearing some poor dude's meat."

Still very cautiously trying to steer his way through this conversation, Sam wonders just why the demon would be following them. "I guess I'm big game," Dean smirks, but the smile is all bitterness, not a trace of humour. "My ass is too sweet to let out of sight."

Sam looks tired, but doesn't argue the point any further. He wants this to be real, for Dean's sake, despite the alarm bells ringing madly in his head. Dean sees his face, though, and grows frustrated at his brother's refusal to believe that this could be real. "Well, don't get too excited," he snips. "You might pull something." Ah, he's used that line before. I can't quite place the episode right now, but I know he's said it at some point.

Sam looks wearier than ever. Time is running out, he didn't want to take this job in the first place, and now Dean has been sucked right into the middle of it and is getting his hopes up, but they still don't know what is behind all this, and taking ghostly intervention at face value is always dangerous. "Dean," Sam attempts. "Look, I want to believe, this, man, I really do –"

I'm sure that's true. I'm sure Sam would absolutely love to be able to believe the information Dean has received from his mysterious ghostly caller, to believe that it really is their father providing a miracle from beyond the grave. But he's already tried so many avenues in his attempt to get to the point of hope Dean has so suddenly arrived at, and they were all dead ends, and if something seems too good to be true it usually is. He's despairing, fatalistic and defeated, and is trying to hold all that inside in the face of Dean's fervour, terrified of making the wrong move.

"Then believe it!" Dean shouts. He needs so badly for it to be true, because he doesn't have any other hope to cling onto, needs to believe that his Dad has come through for him this one last time to save the day. "I mean, if we get this sucker, it's Miller time."

"Yeah, that's another thing," Sam attempts, getting a little snippy; trying to swallow his frustration that Dean won't see reason. "Dad rattles off an exorcism that can kill a demon? I mean not just send it back to hell, but kill it?"

"I checked it out," Dean insists, grabbing some more papers. "This is heavy-duty dark ages. Fifteenth century."

Sam is unmoved, but his frustration of a moment ago has melted away into sympathy. "Yeah, I checked on it, too, Dean," he gently tells his brother, and kudos to Jared Padalecki because you can see so clearly that Dean's hope and excitement are breaking his heart because he just can't bring himself to trust the source. "So did Bobby."

He got Bobby to check it out behind Dean's back. Just…oh, boys.

Dean looks a little downcast. "Okay. And?"
"Look, it definitely is an exorcism, okay," Sam reassures him. "There's just no evidence that it can kill a demon."
Dean processes the negativity, bounces back. "No evidence it can't," he insists, determined not to give up on this newfound hope. It's the only hope he's got.

Sam sighs and rolls his eyes in despair; Dean's as blinkered here as Sam can be at his very worst. Dean points out that the only one of them that's actually been to hell is John and that he could have picked up some extra tricks down there, such as which exorcisms actually work. Sam concedes the point, assures his brother again that he hopes it works as much as Dean does, but insists that they have to be sure.

"Why aren't we sure?" Dean demands. The information came from Dad, and that's always been good enough for him. Even now, after everything. Dean has always, always placed his faith in his father, without question, whether John deserved that level of trust or not. He can't not believe in him now, when he most needs his Dad to be that superhero, still less continue to question whether or not it really is John. That last call knocked every last doubt out of his head.

"Because I don't know what's going on around here, Dean!" Sam insists, exasperated. And that's the crux of the matter, the reason Sam can't afford to get carried away by the hope Dean has embraced so fervently.

On the surface, Dean's argument is compelling. They have tried absolutely everything else, so why not try this, too? They've got nothing to lose, after all, if it doesn't work. But the fact is that they can't trust the source, have yet to positively identify the reason for all the ghostly phone calls, nor even confirmed that the alleged spirits behind the calls are genuine and not something else, and they simply can't afford to get carried away with excitement until the facts have been verified. One of them has to keep a level head here, has to keep his eyes on the job at hand; they can't both afford to lose sight of reality, and the reality is that something very strange and as yet unexplained is going on here, and no miracle comes for free.

Sam reminds Dean that they came here in the first place to investigate banker Ben's suicide, and that young Lanie is scared out of her wits – hardly evidence for the benevolence of this unexplained ghostly activity. "Wow, man, a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts," Dean heatedly snorts, equally exasperated. "Newsflash, Sam: people are supposed to be freaked out by ghosts!" Heh. Yes, people are supposed to be freaked by ghosts, but the Winchester brothers very rarely are; they've seen too many of them.

Sam sighs, and man, he looks so defeated. He's tried everything he can think of to save Dean, and met only failure at every turn, and now for the first time Dean has hope but Sam can't bring himself to trust it, and it is breaking his heart. He promised he'd find a way, so far has found no way of keeping that promise, and now this. He asks if 'Dad' told Dean where to find the demon. Dean waves his phone and snaps that he's waiting on the call. Man. He's just absolutely at the end of his rope. If this doesn't work, if it isn't real, he has got nothing left. No hope at all. Sam sighs again, torn between what his head and his heart are telling him. He tells Dean that he'd told Lanie he'd check in on her, and slowly turns toward the door to do just that.

The role reversal is striking. At the start of the episode Sam had no interest in taking on this job, wanted to concentrate on Dean's deal and nothing else, whereas Dean couldn't bear the focus on his imminent fate any longer and was desperate for the distraction this case afforded. Now, though, they have switched places completely. Ever since notJohn dangled the tantalising offer of salvation before him Dean has lost sight of the job completely, while Sam is now hanging onto it as the one thing that can possibly make sense of this situation. He might not have wanted to take the job in the first place, but one of them needs to continue to work it, because lives remain at stake, and the reason for all this otherworldly contact is still so very unknown. Working the job means finding out for sure if this is real or not, which he has to be sure about before he can get on board with Dean's newfound optimism.

I'm not sure leaving Dean alone right now is the wisest decision, but Sam is also at the end of his tether. He just does not know what to do. His carefully presented argument in favour of caution has failed to get through to his brother, he can't force Dean to slow down and think about this, still less to go with him to see Lanie, and he clearly doesn't want to fight, not now, not like this. Just like Dean at the start of the episode, he needs something concrete, something positive that he can do. Focusing on the civilians in danger gives him that.

Dean is taken aback, and snips at his brother to go on and hang out with 'jailbait'. "Meanwhile I'll be here, you know, getting ready to save my life."

That's a low blow, about as close as I can imagine Dean ever getting to reproaching Sam for his failure so far to fulfil the promise he made to find a way out of the deal – and closer than I ever thought he would get. Sam is stung, but lets it go, doesn't call his brother on the meanness of the remark. He knows Dean is desperate and hurting, just days away from eternity in hell – that eternity in hell being the price for Sam's own life. So he just waves his arms in a gesture of impotent frustration and turns back to the door, too emotionally scoured clean to respond in any way. He just doesn't know any more what to think or feel, what's right or wrong here. Every instinct he possesses, as an experienced hunter of the supernatural, has got to be screaming at him that this is wrong, but arguing that point too strenuously means stomping all over Dean's hope, which is the first real hope Dean has ever expressed, and he can't bring himself to do it.

Dean can't believe Sam is just going to walk away right here at the crux, and lashes out. "You're unbelievable, you know that?" he bites. "I mean, for months we've been trying to break this demon deal. Now Dad's about to give us the frigging address, and you can't accept it? The man is dead and you're still butting heads with the guy!"

This is Dean pushing Sam away, rather than having any kind of legitimate argument; Dean has always tended to lash out in anger when he's hurting. Sam never had the kind of close and intense relationship that Dean had with their father, and wasn't the one who took the call from his spirit, has no reason for blind faith in John's supposed words. But if he really believed it was John, no strings attached, although he might still question the hows and whys I don't doubt that he'd be a lot more willing to investigate the option. As it is, though, everything about this situation is unexplained and ringing loud alarm bells, and he's terrified of losing his brother before their deadline.

Stung, Sam swings back around, insists that's not what this is about. "The fact is, we've got no hard proof here, Dean," he angrily points out. "After everything, you're still just going on blind faith."

That's an old, old accusation, a season one accusation, and calls back to so many earlier episodes. Back then Sam never understood why Dean believed so strongly in their father. Later, he came to understand why Dean needed that belief system, but since John's death Dean has healed so much, come so far – it must be painful for Sam to see this regression, all the more so given the reason for it, the situation they are in.

Debates around the subject of faith have surfaced intermittently between the brothers for three seasons now, and the situation here is an exact reversal of that we saw in Houses of the Holy last season. Then, Sam was the one in desperate fear of the future who wanted so badly to believe in something more, in a greater power, while Dean was sceptical of anything for which he had no evidence. This time around, Dean's the one clinging to blind faith, but faith in his Dad rather than any kind of benevolent God, the Dad he always believed in so strongly, no matter what happened.

But although it is a step backward for Dean to slide so unquestioningly back into his old role of trusting and obedient son, it stems from a completely different set of insecurities than in the past. It's all about fear and need and raw, agonising desperation. "Yeah, maybe! Maybe that's all I've got, okay!" he yells, absolutely frantic. He's just days away from death, days away from eternity in hell, from having his soul burned away until there is nothing left but a demon where he used to be, and he is petrified.

And he doesn't believe that Sam can save him. That much is clear.

Sam, again, looks exhausted. He also looks crushed, because I don't think he believes he can save Dean either, but he's been trying so hard for so long, has given it his all, and Dean's lack of faith must hurt so, so badly. Sam desperately needs something to hold onto, as well, needs something to believe in, but the more Dean clings to this apparent lifeline thrown to him by the alleged ghost of their father, the more troubled and uncertain Sam becomes. "Please," he implores. "Please, don't go anywhere until I get back. Okay, Dean? Please."

Dean glares and broods and says nothing. He's not going to make that promise. Sam sighs yet again and leaves. Left alone, Dean huffs his frustration with his brother, himself, and the entire situation, and stomps over to the table, puts his phone down, and settles in to wait for that call he's so anxiously awaiting.

Lanie's house. Sam asks Lanie if she's told her father about any of this. Lanie snorts that she can't disturb him in work, and besides, he wouldn't believe her anyway, just chuck her into therapy. Sam asks what her 'mother' said. Lanie explains that her 'mother' wanted to see her and that at first she'd thought she should go to the cemetery, but nothing happened, and then the spirit started asking her to do other things. Bad things.

In another bedroom, Lanie's little brother Simon is playing with his cars. His toy telephone rings. He seems entirely unperturbed by this, and answers. It is, of course, the mysterious SHA33. Simon is delighted to hear from his supposed mother, too young to understand how disturbing this call from beyond the grave really is. And I'm not going to worry about just how the Crocotta has managed to make use of a child's toy in this way, unconnected as it is to any kind of actual phone line.

Motel. Dean sits and waits, staring at his phone. Oh, Dean. That look on his face right now? That is everything he's been holding inside about what lies ahead of him, so very soon, if this isn't real and doesn't work out. It has to be real and it has to work out, because if it doesn't he's got nothing left and it's all over, and that's why he refuses to even consider any other possibility, can't allow himself to doubt. The alternative is too awful to contemplate.

The phone rings. Dean snatches it up and asks where the demon is.

Dean has come a long, long way over the course of this season, from resigned acceptance of his fate while it was still a ways off, through rigid denial of the reality of what was going to happen to him, on to open admission of his fear and desire to live, and now finally hitting utter desperation, propelling him into action.

Lanie's house. Lanie sobs as she admits that her mother's spirit told her to go to her father's medicine cabinet and take all his sleeping pills. It wanted her to commit suicide, just as the spirit of Linda tormented banker Ben into suicide. Sam processes and is dismayed, weighing up what this means for Dean as well as for Lanie.

"Why would my Mom want me to do that?" Lanie sobs. "I mean, just so I could come to her?"

Sam freezes in his tracks, hearing those words, which ring a very loud bell. He presses Lanie for clarification, and she repeats the exact words the spirit used: 'come to me'. Impressively, Sam immediately realises what is behind all of this and starts to get very intense, in that way he always does when he's freaking out but trying to hold it all in because he can't afford to lose focus. I love CompetentSam. He assures Lanie that it was not her mother who called her.

Elsewhere. The Impala pulls up in a random suburban street near the address Dean was given by notJohn. Dean grabs his duffle bag of supplies from the trunk, glances around to make sure no one is watching, and heads for the house in question.

Lanie's house. Sam is swinging into action, rushing for the stairs to, no doubt, get back to his brother as fast as he can with this new information, and delivering an urgent string of instructions to Lanie as he goes: she is not to answer the phone, use the computer or do anything at all unless he says she can. Boy, does he sound like John: driven, focused, authoritative and impatient, demanding absolute, unquestioning cooperation and obedience because it is necessary to get everyone through this in one piece.

Lanie stops listening, though, when she realises that her little brother is not in his room.

House. Dean makes his way in round the back, presumably picking the lock, although we don't see him doing so. There's no one home.

Street. Young Simon marches along toward the promised meeting with his dead mother. Just what the creature told him we don't know, but whatever it was has robbed him of whatever sense a child that age possesses – he's moving like an automaton, eyes straight ahead, not even glancing at the traffic as he walks out into the roads he must cross on his way.

House. Dean prepares himself a nice big bottle of DIY holy water, then pulls back a rug and paints a devil's trap on the floor beneath. He's not letting himself think, not letting himself question, instead focusing absolutely on the task at hand.

Dean is acting alone here. He is acting alone in a very deliberate attempt to capture and kill the crossroads contract-holding demon in order to save himself from his crossroads deal. So, you have to wonder just how this very pro-active anti-demon mission ties in with the 'no weaselling out' clause on the deal. He isn't supposed to be able to do anything to try to get out of it, on pain of Sam's death; by so actively working to release himself from the deal, he's treading a very fine line here, simply because notJohn told him it was safe to do so. This is the first time in the show that we have ever seen Dean so heedless of Sam's safety, blind to the potential consequences of his actions for his brother.

Street. Simon marches out into another road, not noticing that a large truck is hurtling toward him. The driver of the truck fails to see the little boy until it is too late, being busy checking his work schedule. At the last moment, however, Sam comes swooping in out of nowhere to snatch the little boy out of the path of the truck. The truck driver completely fails to stop to check that they are both okay. Sam watches it go, breathing hard, and then looks back down at the child whose life he just saved.

It's kind of an abrupt and awkward scene, since we have no idea how Sam knew where to look – presumably he just took off in hopes of finding the child and struck lucky, picking the right direction first time. The main point of this little sub-plot is to keep Sam occupied while Dean takes off to follow notJohn's instructions, and to show us just how much Sam has got on his plate at the moment, trying to cover all angles. It's a good thing he's in such resoundingly competent form in this episode because, with Dean taking himself off on his desperate tangent, he has no back up. Sam has to do everything and save everyone, including himself, all on his own.

Rental. Sam makes a phone call to Dean while he drives. That's illegal in the UK, but apparently not in the US. He urgently tells his brother that it isn't their father who has been calling. Dean asks what it is, in that case. A Crocotta, Sam tells him. Dean quips that that's a kind of sandwich and…that's where the alarm bells should start to ring, because, although the joke is very typical of Dean's humour, he doesn't sound nearly upset enough about having his last desperate hope of salvation taken away. He doesn't sound upset at all, in fact, and he should be. He might try to mask it, but there's a difference between defensive snark and light-hearted wisecracks. Sam is wound up enough not to notice, however, explaining that the Crocotta is a kind of scavenger who mimics loved ones, whispers 'come to me' and lures you into the dark and swallows your soul. NotDean muses that this makes sense. Sam starts to apologise, knowing that this will be a devastating blow for his brother, but notDean interrupts to observe that these things live in filth, and reminds his brother of the flies at the phone company.

Again, this is clever on the part of the Crocotta, distracting Sam from his train of thought like that and nudging him in the direction it wants him to go. Sam doesn't realise he's in danger, because he's the one who made the call. But right here he is being manipulated every bit as much as Dean was manipulated earlier.

Phone company. It is now dark; another full day past of the precious few Dean has left. Sam arrives and starts snooping around outside. Peering through a window, he sees tech Stewie still messing around on his computers, but is then distracted by a loud bang nearby. When he looks through the window again, Stewie is heading for the door.

Sam hides out in the parking lot, and calls Dean again. This time, he gets voicemail. "This is Herman Munster. Leave a message." Hee. Sam breathlessly leaves a message that he's in the parking lot, that 'he's' here, and to hurry. If only Dean had actually been a part of the last conversation Sam believes he had with him, that might make sense. Not that Dean is taking messages right now, anyway. Sam turns his attention to Stewie, who has reached his car.

As Stewie unlocks his car, he is shocked and terrified to be attacked from behind. Sam slams him against the car and presses a knife against the back of his neck. "I know what you are, and I know how to kill you," he menaces.

"Please, wait. Wait. If we're overcharging you for the call waiting or something, I can fix that. I'm your friend," Stewie pleads. Heh. Sam pulls that hilarious face he always makes when he starts to realise that he might have made a mistake. Stewie continues to beg for his life, as the camera pulls back to show Clark creeping up on Sam with a baseball bat. He swings, strikes, and Sam goes down like a sack of potatoes.

Those boys really are racking up the head injuries. They should be more careful!

Stewie cheers and jumps about and thanks Clark for saving his life. What he isn't expecting is for his colleague to turn around and take him down, as well.

Later. Sam slumps unconscious in a chair, hands tied behind his back with cabling; his wrists look decidedly bruised and sore. Nice makeup job. Stewie is similarly bound in the chair opposite, already awake again and whimpering in fear as he desperately apologises to Clark for whatever he did to deserve this. Sam comes around, rather impressively going from unconscious to pleading for his fellow prisoner's life in about 0.2 seconds. Stewie sobs that Clark isn't a killer, that there is a good man inside him – it's actually a pretty impressive attempt at talking the kidnapper down, if only he actually were human.

But Clark only smirks and looks to Sam. "What do you think, Sammy?" he mocks. "Am I a good man?" Sam rather brokenly implores the creature to let Stewie go. Sam has seen too much death and defeat lately. Clark shrugs that he would, he really would, if only he'd had more than a salad for lunch. With that, he plunges Sam's knife into Stewie's heart. Sam bellows, but it's too late. Stewie expires, and Clark's face morphs to reveal his wicked Crocotta teeth as he leans in to suck out the soul. Nasty.

Sam is shaken. This is the second episode in a row that he has been forced to sit and watch while a civilian was murdered right in front of him. The episode before that, all the civilians that he and Dean tried so hard to save ended up dead. The episode before that, Sam was forced to watch his brother die, over and over and over. How hard it must be to keep going in the face of such setbacks and accompanying feelings of hopelessness and despair.

Sam has been working so hard for so long to try to save Dean from the crossroads deal, but the fact is that they walk a narrow path between life and death every day, and in their line of work either one of them could be killed at any time. They both could die here and now. Dean's death as a result of the crossroads deal is a certainty, barring a miracle, but the risk of losing one another is ever-present even without that.

Sam belatedly realises that his last call with Dean was in fact the Crocotta, setting him up. The Crocotta croons that some calls he makes, others he takes. "But you had to admit, I had you fooled for a while."

The Crocotta taps into human frailty; it finds the weak spot and then plays it for all its worth. Sam never questioned for a moment that it was Dean he was speaking to. It didn't even occur to him to doubt.

Laughing, the Crocotta wanders over to a nearby panel, presses his hands against it and kind of writhes in ecstasy as the board lights up. Sam is deeply disturbed and asks what he's doing. "I'm killing your brother," the Crocotta exults. "Or maybe I'm killing another guy. We'll just have to see how it goes."

Police station. A random officer is grabbing his jacket from the locket, getting ready to go off-shift, when his phone rings. He glances at caller ID and stiffens, hurries to the door as he answers so as to talk in private. Another recurring SHA33 call recipient, clearly. It is a little girl's voice on the other end, and Officer is clearly shattered to hear it. This is his daughter, his little girl, and she is dead. He has her picture taped to the inside of his locker; we just saw it. "I had to call, I know who killed me, Daddy. […] The man who killed me, he's at the house right now," the child's voice pipes, and Officer's grief hardens into rage.

Phone company. The Crocotta pulls Sam's knife out of Stewie's chest, and pushes him out of the way.

"You know, mimicking Dean's one thing. But my Dad? That's a hell of a trick." Sam probes for information about how this creature works, furious with it, but currently helpless to act, what with being tied up and all. But while he talks, he's busily working away at the cables around his wrists, which are bleeding from his efforts to free himself.

The Crocotta cheerfully explains that once he'd made the two of them as hunters, it was easy. "Found Dean's number, then your number, then your father's numbers. Then the emails, the voicemails – everything. You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'd be surprised at how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked."

That's a worrisome thought for all of us cyber-geeks!

"Dean's not going to fall for this. He's not going to kill that guy," Sam insists, and his faith in his brother is touching. Last season Sam was regularly afraid that Dean, in his grief, fury and misery, would go too far and cross the line. Now, though, for all Dean's desperation, Sam has absolute faith in his ability to pull himself back from the brink.

"Then the guy kills him," the Crocotta shrugs, not really caring either way.

House. The headlights of Officer's car alert Dean to the fact that he won't be alone in the house much longer.

Here again we see the consequence of the Crocotta's manipulations. Officer believes that he is coming home to confront – and try to kill – the man who murdered his daughter. Dean believes he is here to confront and try to kill the demon that holds the contract on his soul and is about to drag him into hell for all eternity. Neither has any evidence whatsoever, beyond what a deceased loved one told them on the phone, but for both of them that inexplicable contact from beyond the grave tapped into enough grief and rage and fear and desperation for the lack of supporting evidence not to matter.

Dean lies in wait in the darkened house, holy water at the ready, but is puzzled when Officer fails to come in through the front door, instead moving around to the back. He wasn't expecting the guy to have any warning of his presence, and so is taken completely by surprise when Officer bursts through the back door with a shotgun and fires at him.

Dean has lightning reflexes, so manages to dive out of the way in time to avoid being hit, but loses his bottle of holy water in the process. He regroups rapidly, seeing that Officer is reloading the shotgun, seeing that the holy water is out of reach, weighing up his options in a split second, and then acting. He sprints into the kitchen, throws himself at Officer, and manages to disarm the man before he can get the shotgun reloaded and brought back into play.

The fight between Dean and Officer is absolutely brutal, no-holds-barred, and is really hard to watch, knowing that they both believe they are fighting something that is pure evil, that they are both fighting for a lie, but that that lie means everything to them. It makes for very uncomfortable viewing as they each lay into the other with awful rage and intensity, real fight-to-the-death kind of stuff, first one and then the other gaining the upper hand. Dean finally manages to get the other man down and kicks him across the floor, and that part is the hardest to watch, I think. Because this man is innocent, trying to defend his home and avenge his child's memory, and the way Dean kicks him over and over could and maybe should cause pretty serious injury. Even if this was the contract-holding demon, the body it inhabits would still be innocent and undeserving of such treatment, and yet Dean's panic and fear and desperation are so great that they drown out all other considerations. He's just lashing out, trying to alleviate his own pain, wanting to punish this demon for what he's been going through in anticipation of his imminent fate, frantic with the need to save himself from hellfire and damnation.

Phone company. The Crocotta continues to wax lyrical about the wonders of technology and how it makes life so much easier. He strokes the bloody knife through Sam's hair, which is just creepy and gross, as he monologues on and on about how he used to hide in the woods for days and weeks, whispering to people, trying to draw them out into the night. But they had community, back then. People looked out for one another, and he'd be lucky to get one or two souls a year. Sam offers his best bitchface in silent response. Two episodes in a row he's been tied up, watched an innocent man murdered and then had to listen to the killer rabbiting on and on trying to justify himself. There's no reason at all for the Crocotta to not just kill Sam already, but he seems to enjoy playing with his food.

Maybe that's the ultimate explanation for the Crocotta's more inexplicable actions? Random sadism. There are all kinds of question marks over how the remote targeting of victims benefits it in any way, since it clearly needs to be physically present to eat the soul once the victim is dead, and there has to be a narrow time frame within which this is possible after death. You would think that it would be a lot simpler to just hang out in the less salubrious parts of town, luring down-and-outs into dark alleys and quietly snacking on them there, with nobody to notice that they had disappeared. But the emotional tormenting of victims seems to be an enormous source of pleasure for it. And who know? Maybe it was hanging around close by when banker Ben took his life, and while it tried so hard to persuade Lanie to do likewise, ready for the feast. Here, triggering the showdown between Dean and Officer while too far away to enjoy the spoils seems to be more about torturing Sam than acquiring a meal.

"But now," the Crocotta exults. "I simply make a phone call. You're all so connected, but you've never been so alone."

There's all kinds of social commentary in there, it has to be said, about the impact of modern technology.

Having finished talking at last, the Crocotta's jaw elongates once more, finally preparing to get around to eating Sam's soul. He raises his arm to strike a killing blow. But Sam manages to break free of his bonds at the last possible moment and dives forward, tackling the Crocotta to the ground and knocking the knife from its hand. It's a very striking contrast to Ghostfacers last week, in which Sam was similarly captured and bound and had to be rescued by Dean. This time, Dean isn't coming to his rescue, so he has to save himself.

The separate battles that the brothers fight here at the end of this episode are very symbolic of how they are about to be separated forever. Once Dean is gone, Sam will have to fight all his battles alone, with no one to rely on but himself.

Sam fumbles for the knife, but the Crocotta pulls him away and slams him against a wall before he can reach it, and the Crocotta retrieves the knife himself. He rushes at Sam…

…and we cut to Dean and Officer, smashing through a glass inner door together, still locked in their desperate tussle. Dean grabs the man's handgun from his belt, takes the clip out, and throws it away. As violent as he is in his frenzy – and at least a measure of that, we should remember, is the fact that demons are notoriously difficult to take down hand-to-hand, possessing super-strength, and all – he has no intention of shooting and killing the host. This is all about the demon he believes to be inside and wants dead. He pulls back the rug to reveal the devil's trap painted underneath, and his face is bruised and bleeding and just, man – his expression: raw, naked pain. This is it; this is all he's got, last throw of the dice.

Dean pulls out the sheaf of papers bearing the exorcism he believes came from John, as Officer slowly regains his senses and clambers back to his feet, bewildered, furious, outraged and grief-stricken. Officer demands to know what this is. "Your funeral," Dean barks, and starts to read the Latin, albeit rather falteringly, since he's out of breath, battered and emotional.

Officer steps out of the devil's trap. "You did this to my daughter, too?" he seethes, horrified, and when you look at this situation from his point of view, boy does it hurt.

Dean stares at him in disbelief, at first struggling to understand how a 'demon' could get out of the trap, but then shattering comprehension slowly dawns, and it is just cruel and awful. Last throw of the dice, all his hopes and fears pinned on this confrontation, and it was a lie. He stammers that this is a mistake, but Officer is well and truly out for blood now and hurls himself at the man he believes responsible for his daughter's death.

Phone company. Sam struggles with the Crocotta, who kicks him off and then faces off with him, knife in hand. Sam prepares to defend himself. The Crocotta strikes, and Sam fends him off, and they tussle. Sam swings him around, so that the back of his neck is just inches away from a set of wicked looking spikes set into the wall as coat hooks or whatever. We don't see Sam acknowledge the presence of these hooks in any way, but already know that he is very observant, and remember that when he thought Stewie was the Crocotta he kept the knife pressed against the back of his neck and said he knew how to kill him. Evidently the back of the neck is their Achilles heel – but since the brother's are not working in tandem, there has been no opportunity for exposition on that point! Anyway, Sam desperately holds the Crocotta off as it presses the bloody knife dangerously close to his face, and pushes it back and back and back, until…squick! Sam manages to break free and, with a couple of swift blows, the Crocotta is impaled on the coat hooks, right through the back of the neck. The Crocotta expires, and Sam takes a moment to catch his breath.

I really hope Sam also takes a moment to wipe the place down, so as not to leave any fingerprints lying around what will present to the police as a highly puzzling crime scene. He and Dean only just got the FBI off their tail – the last thing they need is to open that can of worms again!

House. Officer bellows that his daughter was just nine years old as he rains blow after blow down on Dean, fuelled by rage and grief. Dean no longer has his own desperation to drive him on, nor any more reason to give as good as he gets, which makes the fight highly uneven now. He can only attempt to defend himself while frantically insisting that he didn't kill the child. He keeps finding himself in the frame for crimes he didn't commit. Finally he manages to get hold of the shotgun and uses it as a blunt instrument to knock the man down and off him.

"Why did you kill her?" Officer sobs.
"I'm sorry. I didn't kill your daughter." Dean sounds absolutely shattered.
"Then what are you doing here?" Officer seethes.
The hopelessness in Dean's eyes is perfect. "I don't know," he all but sobs.

Motel. Dean is in the bathroom tending to his bruised and bloody face. Sam arrives and comes straight in to see what he's doing, gaping in amazement at his brother's battered appearance.

"I see they improved your face," Dean observes, since Sam doesn't look much better.
"Right back atcha," Sam snorts.
"So, Crocotta, huh," Dean remarks, wandering back out into the living area, very deliberately keeping his tone light. "That would explain the flies."

How does he know that? Have they consulted by phone since the end of their respective fights? I can well imagine that the first thing Sam would have done after killing the creature was phone his brother to check that he hadn't done anything stupid. The brothers perch on the ends of their beds, sitting side by side as so often this season.

"Hey, um…I'm sorry it wasn't Dad," Sam softly opens.
"I gave you a hell of a time on this one," Dean wryly admits. "You were right."
"Forget about it," Sam immediately tells him.
"I can't." Dean shakes his head, eyes glued to the floor at his feet. "I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way out of this. I mean, I'm staring down the barrel of this thing. You know, hell. For real, forever, and I'm just…"

"Yeah." Oh man, Sam's face here just kills me. He's playing this conversation perfectly. He's not pushing, he's not judging, he's not scolding, he's not offering empty platitudes – he's just listening, and making sympathetic noises in all the right places. Letting Dean say what he needs to say, and being here for him. It's all he has to offer. Sam has grown so much since Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things, when Dean opened up to him for almost the first time and he was unable to respond at all.

"I'm scared, Sam. I'm really scared." Dean turns to look his brother right in the eyes as he says this, which is huge. Dean has always, always backed away from emotional conversations, keeps his eyes averted when confessing to fear or weakness, tried to hold it all at arm's length. Ever since Fresh Blood, however, he has been trying hard to be more open and honest, and it has paid off both for him and his brother. And if ever there was a time for absolute openness, this is it.

"I know," Sam softly says. He's scared, as well, grieving already for what his brother is about to face, and for what he himself is about to go through once Dean is gone.
"I guess I was willing to believe anything," Dean admits, with a little chuckle that's almost a sob. "You know, last act of a desperate man."
"There's nothing wrong with having hope, Dean," Sam assures him.

That kind of hurts, because I'm not sure Sam even believes in hope any more. He used to. But hope has burned them both so many times now, it's hard to know what Sam believes in these days, other than his brother. And Dean, we know, has never really believed in anything but his father, and with John gone…he just has no hope left at all.

"Hope doesn't get you jack squat," Dean bitterly retorts. "I can't expect Dad to show up with some miracle at the last minute." Oh, Sam's face, because this is Dean admitting defeat, and preparing to walk to the gallows. "I can't expect anybody to, you know. The only person who can get me out of this thing is me."

The show has heavily implied in several episodes now that Dean could not be saved unless he wanted to be saved, but just whether this will be significant in any way when the clock runs out, or how it ties in with the Sam clause, remains to be seen. Just how, exactly, Dean thinks he can get himself out of this is anybody's guess. Maybe it is just words. We already know that there isn't a plan. And it isn't as if he can take the deal back – Sam would die, and I'm fairly certain Dean would also die anyway, since he was given what he asked for and payment would still be due.

"And me," Sam solemnly assures his brother, a resolute statement of solidarity.
There's a moment of silent eye contact. But Dean has now reached the limits of his tolerance for deep-and-meaningful for one day. "'And me'?" he mocks, taking refuge in light-hearted tormenting of his baby brother to defuse the moment. "Deep revelation, having a real moment here, that's what you come back with? 'And me'?"
"Do you want a poem?" Mwahah. Oh, Sam, for once able to respond to Dean's deflection in kind, because they've already said everything that needed to be said, and he needs the refuge of their familiar sibling banter as much as Dean does. And that's a great callback to Dean's poem jibe in Fresh Blood.
"Moment's gone. Unbelievable," Dean snarks, switching the TV on and pulling out a couple of beers.

The dialogue on the TV, let us note, is remarkably appropriate to the moment and their situation, although I have no idea where it comes from:
Man: […] 'So must I. I have a lot of work to do.'
Woman: 'Ah, at the rate you're going, it won't take long. You'll have everything carried up and be off again before we even get used to you!'
Man: 'Oh, I'll be around long enough for you and I to; ah…I'll be around.'

Sam takes the proffered beer with a wry twist of the lips, as he no doubt reflects on how little time remains to share moments like this with his brother. The clock is counting down to zero, fast.

The camera pulls back on the brothers sitting side by side, quietly having a beer together in what could be perhaps the last moment of peace they ever get. Time is almost up.


May 2008

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