"You're not supposed to get what you want."

I'm really enjoying this season. Taken as a whole, it has been remarkably strong, and although some episodes have been stronger than others, even the weaker episodes have tended to be better than the fizzlers of previous seasons.

Having said that, though, I find myself rather dissatisfied with this one. I had reservations after my first viewing, but hoped that re-watching and the recapping process might smooth over those initial concerns. It hasn't worked – quite the opposite, in fact. The closer I look at the episode, the less satisfied I am with it. Too much of the humour either doesn't work, being forced as it is, or is used to mask deeper conceptual flaws. The balance and pacing are all off, the a- and b-plots have no connection with each other whatsoever, and the final product is decidedly disjointed.

I want to like the episode. It has some strong moments and is very funny in places, when viewed on a purely superficial level. The problem is that I like to take this show and these characters rather more seriously than that. I think they deserve it. But this episode falls short of the standard I expect, overall. Still, it does have its stronger moments.

Then

"I dragged you out of hell," Castiel voiceovers as Dean crawls out of his grave. "I can throw you back in. You should show me some respect."

Sassy psychic Pamela Barnes had her eyes burned right out of her head. Dean used a fire iron to disperse a spirit. Neither of these events has anything to do with this episode.

Castiel warned Dean that in the coming months he would have more decisions to make.

Sam asked Dean what hell was like, and Dean told him that he had blacked out all those memories and didn't remember a thing. However, viewers are aware, even if Sam isn't, that Dean has been troubled by intermittent flashbacks of his time in the Pit.

Castiel introduced fellow angel Uriel, a 'specialist', and the Winchester brothers were shocked to learn that the angels planned to destroy a town.

Uriel told Sam that the only reason he was still alive was because he had been useful. "The moment that ceases to be true, I will turn you to dust." He further suggested that Sam "ask Dean what he remembers from hell."

Now

A young woman enjoys a shower, blissfully unaware that someone is watching. The naked figure of a pasty teenage boy lurks outside the shower, watching lustfully – but vanishes the moment the woman shuts the water off and turns around.

As the woman gets out of the shower and wraps up in a towel, unseen by her, a handprint appears in the condensation on the shower door and then wipes itself off. Wet footprints mark the passage of an unseen someone across the floor. The woman hears something and is puzzled, but brushes it off since she can't see anyone. She takes the towel off her hair and tosses it randomly across the room for no apparent reason – but instead of falling to the floor, the towel instead ends up hanging over the head of the invisible voyeur.

"Umm…hello…Mrs Armstrong?" quavers a nervous voice.

Mrs Armstrong screams.

Titles

Diner

Dean knocks back a shot – one of three lined up in front of him, at least that I can see, one already empty and another still to go – while Sam nags that it doesn't make any sense. "Why would Uriel tell me you remember hell if you didn't?"



We are not told how much time has elapsed since the end of the last episode, but however long it has been, the context suggests that Sam has spent most of that time nagging Dean about his memories of hell, or lack thereof. His persistence probably explains the amount of liquor Dean is knocking back in this scene, allied with the fact that they are not currently working a job.

Dean grumbles that maybe it's because Uriel is a dick, half-cut and positively radiating I don't want to talk about this, don't make me talk about this. Sam argues that Uriel is still an angel, and Dean snips that this angel was ready to level an entire town.

We still don't know the nature of the field test that whole job turned out to be, in terms of the angelic involvement. But I suspect that their smite-happy proposal is going to be ammunition against them, from both brothers' point of view, for some time still to come.

Before Dean can go on, a marvellously, maddeningly goofy busboy wanders over to see how the brothers are doing. He is wearing braces to hold up his trousers, and those braces have badges pinned all over them. Some of the badges even have flashing LED lights. Says it all, really. Both brothers are irritated by the interruption, as the relentlessly chirpy goofball tries his level best to tempt them with fryer bombs or a chipotle chili-changa [sp?] before they manage to chase him away.

Dean cocks an eyebrow after the man as he leaves, no doubt musing on the craziness of mankind, and then picks right back up where he left off. "Sam, honestly – I have no idea why Uriel told you what he did. Okay?"

He downs his last shot. Sam eyes the shot glasses and his brother sceptically, which makes Dean bristle defensively. "Okay, fine," Sam presses. "Then look me in the eye and tell me that you don't remember a thing about your time down under."

Sam, honey – he was in hell. Not Australia.

Dean rolls his eyes. Sam glares at him, waiting. Dean sets his resolve, leaning forward to look his brother firmly in the eye. "I don't remember a thing from my time down under," he snarkily parrots. It is Sam's turn to roll his eyes, not believing a word, and Dean explodes. "I don't remember, Sam!"

"Look, Dean, I just want to help," Sam wearily insists, and he reminds me so much of his season two self right now, hammering on Dean's defences while totally unprepared for what he is likely to find once he breaks them down.

"You know everything I do," Dean insists. "Okay, that's all there is!"

Busboy interrupts again. "Outstanding! Dessert time, am I right? Listen bros, you have got to try our ice cream extreme. It's extreme!"

The brothers are absolutely not in the mood for him, but can't avoid a bit of back and forth about their lack of desire for any extremities before they manage to get the check. Dean rolls his eyes again at the funny little man's departing back, and then asks his brother where they go from here.

There's a question that could have a double meaning. He could be referring to their relationship, given that Sam doesn't believe Dean's denials and Dean is refusing to budge, which makes for a pretty cyclical conversation. But in fact he is changing the subject, asking where they need to go to find their next job.

While a pretty woman wandering past distracts Dean, Sam shrugs that it's all been pretty quiet, lately – no demonic omens or portents at all, that he can see.

"Good news for once," Dean allows, finishing his beer. On top of the shots he just downed. I hope Sam is driving.

Sam hauls the laptop out to show his brother as he reports "the usual smattering of crank UFO sightings, and one possible vengeful spirit […] up in Concrete, Washington. Eye witness reports of a ghost that's been haunting the showers of a women's health facility."

Dean splutters into his beer and doesn't so much as glance at the website Sam has just pulled up to show him, instead hurriedly closing the laptop and reaching for his wallet as Sam continues that the victim claimed the ghost threw her down a flight of stairs.

"I can see you're very interested," Sam deadpans.

"Women. Showers," Dean deadpans right back at him, tossing a handful of notes onto the table by way of payment. "We've got to save these people."

Concrete, Washington. Day

What a pretty Canadian location.

Dean drops Sam off at Lucky Chin's dim sun restaurant. I love the sign: good things happen to those who eat. Perfect motto.



Inside, the camera lazily takes in a large Buddha fountain water feature as it follows a couple around the restaurant to their table: a beautiful young woman fawning all over a rather geeky man.

It's Ted Raimi! Excellent.

Finally, we reach Sam, who is sitting with Mrs Armstrong. She has an arm in a sling and natters away about how she really isn't surprised the spirit world chose to make contact with her, since she considers herself to be something of a natural sensitive.

Sam nods gravely, working very hard not to laugh in her face. "I can sense that about you, Candice. That whole…sensitive thing," he deadpans. Sam is the utter, utter straight man throughout this episode.

Candice asks what he is calling his book. So that's the cover identity of the day. Sam flounders slightly. "Well, the working title is…Supernatural," he awkwardly offers. Heh. Nice bit of self-referentialism for the Show there. It's that kind of episode – arty, rather than gritty. "Yeah, I've been crossing the country, gathering stories like yours…"

Well, there's some truth in that, if not the whole truth!

Sam quickly diverts Candice's attention away from his fake book and back to her encounter, and luckily she needs little prompting to talk about herself some more, explaining that when she saw the apparition, she started to run…. She stops talking, noticing that Sam is distracted. His attention has instead fallen on Geek Guy at a nearby table exchanging passionate kisses with his young Beauty, clearly wondering how a guy like that could possibly manage to get a girl like that, which is a little prejudiced, really.



Sam remembers himself and resumes questioning, reminding Candice that she had said the ghost chased her. She nods and says that it even knew her name. "It kept yelling: 'Mrs Armstrong! Mrs Armstrong!' And that's when I hit the stairs and fell."

Sam is surprised to hear this, since her earlier statement claimed that the ghost pushed her. Candice hastily backtracks and hedges that she isn't really sure but thinks it might have pushed her. Maybe.

Sam asks if she felt like the spirit was violent and meant to hurt her. Candice just scoffs that it was a ghost and she is lucky to be alive. "I was at the bottom of the stairs, and that's when it got weird," she confides. "It helped me up."

Sam is rather staggered by this, because this is Supernatural and in this universe spirits are almost universally aggressive, rather than in any way benevolent or concerned. Candice continues that the ghost kept asking her over and over not to tell its Mom.

"Yeah, that's weird," agrees Sam.



Health Club

Sam finds Dean sitting on the steps waiting for him, reading a newspaper – the front-page headline is about a lucky lottery winner by the name of George Neuman. Dean reports no EMF in the shower or anywhere else, and Sam snorts and says he isn't surprised. "I kind of got the feeling back there that crazy pushed Mrs Armstrong down the stairs." Ooh, bitchy!

Dean: "I've got to tell you, I'm pretty disappointed."
Sam: "You wanted to save naked women."
Dean: "Damn right I wanted to save some naked women."

A group of boys sprint past, the bulk of the group chasing the little guy out in front. "Run, Forrest, run!" Dean bellows after the group. That's kind of insensitive. Dean's usually more concerned about kids that look to be in trouble or distress of any kind.

As the brothers head back to the car, Sam sighs and says he doesn't think anything is going on around here, but Dean draws his attention to an argument going on nearby. A man with a bloody gash across his forehead is trying to convince the local sheriff that something attacked him out in the forest: it grabbed him from behind and threw him into the trees. Dean notes that maybe something is going on, and the brothers head on over to find out more. As they approach, the aggrieved man, Gus, is firmly insisting that it definitely was not a bear that attacked him, that it was Bigfoot.

The brothers neatly interject themselves into the conversation, waving FBI badges despite the lack of suits, and claim that they are here to investigate…this. Well, it's sort of true. Ish. The sheriff is rather amazed, given that Gus is just reporting the incident now. However, pleased that someone is taking him seriously, Gus is only too happy to tell the boys where the attack happened.

Forest

As Dean and Sam make their way to the spot where Gus was attacked, they wonder what the hell is going on in this town. "First there's a ghost that's not real, and now a Big Foot sighting?" Dean disbelieves.

"Well, every hunter worth his salt knows Big Foot's a hoax," Sam agrees. Heh. The expression 'worth his salt' takes on a whole new meaning when you apply it to hunters!

"Maybe somebody's pumping LSD into the town water supply," Dean remarks, prompting an amused grin from Sam.

But then…the brothers are brought up short, for there, before them, are the tracks left by the creature that attacked Gus. They are paw prints, and they are huge. The brothers boggle.



"Okay. What do you suppose made that?" Dean wonders.

"That…uh…" Sam flounders. "That…is a big foot."

Path

Dean and Sam follow the muddy big footprints, to see where they lead.

Where they lead turns out to be a liquor store. It is closed, despite being broad daylight, so I'm not sure what day this is supposed to be. The back door has been ripped right off its hinges, the muddy footprints leading inside.

Liquor store

The brothers investigate. The place has been ransacked, with broken bottles and bags all over the floor.

"So, what? Bigfoot breaks into a liquor joint jonesing for some hooch?" Dean summarises the evidence thus far. "Amaretto and Irish Crème. He's a girl drink drunk." Heh.

While Dean continues to poke around the liquor, helping himself to a bottle of whisky in the process, Sam notices something else and calls his brother over. It seems that their mysterious Bigfoot has also cleaned out the porno rack, leaving behind a hunk of fur.

"Well, I'll say it again," grumbles Dean. "What the hell is going on in this town?"

Outside

The brothers flop onto a handy bench outside the store and silently try to make sense of the nonsensical situation they have uncovered, their confused expressions and reactions priceless.



"I got nothing," Dean admits at length.

"It's got to be a joke, right?" Sam offers. "Some…big-ass mother in a gorilla suit?"

Dean snarkily counter-offers that it could actually be a Bigfoot, and he is "some kind of alcohol-o porno addict. Kind of like a deep woods Duchovny." He snickers at his own joke, and then hastily re-composes himself as Sam turns to frown at him.



A little girl on a bike comes sailing past the brothers and around the corner, a magazine flying out of the milk crate strapped to the back of her bike as she goes. The magazine is Busty Asian Beauties.

The brothers are more perplexed than ever. "A little young for Busty Asian Beauties," Dean rhetorically notes.

Around back of the store, the little girl leaves a big box full of booze and porn magazines with a note saying sorry, and then cycles away again.

Hilariously, Dean and Sam poke their heads out from behind a nearby tree to watch her go.



Here's as good a place as any to nod to the direction of this episode, which is positively littered with shots of the brothers side by side in some arrangement or another and/or exchanging meaningful glances. It all feeds into the rather stylised format of the episode.

House

The Impala pulls up outside a house, the little girl's bike parked in the yard. "What is this, like a Harry and the Henderson's deal?" Dean wonders as the brothers approach the door and knock.

Little Girl answers the door. Both brothers promptly slap on huge smiles and overly fake jovial attitudes, and I swear: if this child's parents had taught her anything at all about stranger danger she would slam that door in their faces instantly.

Little Girl's parents are not home, she explains. Curses, foiled again flits across the faces of both brothers as they realise they are going to have to tread very carefully and question the child on her own, and are uncomfortable about it. Dean starts to ask if she has seen a really furry…

"Is he in trouble?" Little Girl blurts out, worried. Well, that answers that. Surprised, Sam assures her that her furry friend is not in trouble and they just wanted to check that he is okay. Little Girl explains that he is her teddy bear, and leans toward them to confidentially whisper that she thinks he is sick.

Dean and Sam struggle manfully to contain their confused and disbelieving reactions. "Wow. Amazing," Dean offers. "Cause you know that? We are teddy bear doctors." Brandishing a health inspector ID he just happened to have in his pocket, he gestures at Sam, who picks up his cue very quickly and pulls out his own ID, grinning in a way he probably hopes is convincing and reassuring.



Man, this child is gullible. She should be running for the hills by now! Instead, she invites these total strangers into her home so that they can take a look at her teddy bear.

The look on both brothers' faces are priceless as Little Girl turns to lead the way – cautious relief that the ruse worked, because whatever is going on here they can't leave this child alone with it, but also discomfort over just how dodgy this is.

Little Girl leads the brothers upstairs, explaining that Teddy is in her bedroom, but is pretty grumpy. She knocks, calls to Teddy that some nice doctors are here to see him, and opens the door.

"Close the frigging door!" Teddy screams.

And it is, indeed, a teddy bear: a seven-foot tall teddy bear, all velvet plush and glass eyes. Dean and Sam blink, completely stunned by what they just saw – their reactions and facial expressions are the best part of this episode.




"See what I mean?" Little Girl sighs. She explains that all she ever wanted was a teddy that was big, real and talked. "But now he's sad all the time – not ouch sad but ouch in the head sad – does weird stuff and smells like the bus."

Not quite sure how to react to all this, Dean starts to say something, addressing Little Girl as Little Girl just as I've been doing. She corrects him that her name is Audrey, with another world-weary sigh. Dean asks how exactly her teddy became real. Audrey explains that she wished for it at the wishing well.

Dean thinks about that for a moment, and then opens the bedroom door to take another look.

"Look at this!" Teddy quavers, gesturing at the television, sitting on the bed rocking. Dean looks. It is a news report, probably from Iraq, showing the site of a bomb blast and reporting mass casualties. "Can you believe this crap?" Teddy wails.

"Not really," Dean admits, although he is talking more about the man-sized teddy and less about the news.

"It is a terrible world," Teddy groans. "Why am I here?"

"For tea parties!" Audrey shouts, frustrated.

"Tea parties?" Teddy almost laughs his despair. "Is that all there is?"

Withdrawing from the room, Dean and Sam exchange further wtf expressions of where the hell do we go from here? Little Audrey just looks so sad, as if her innocent wish has brought the weight of the world down on her tiny shoulders. Sam asks her to give them a second, and he and Dean step all of two feet away from her. Because this is TV-land, this automatically means that she won't hear the whispered conversation that follows.

While Dean stares off into space trying to let the insanity of the situation sink in, it takes Sam several attempts before he finally manages to spit out a question. "Are we going to kill this teddy bear?"



"How?" Dean wants to know. "Shoot it? Burn it?" Sam suggests maybe both, since he doesn't have any better ideas, but Dean is sceptical. "How do we know that's going to work? I don't want some giant, flaming pissed-off teddy on our hands."

Sam has to agree, adding that he suspects Teddy isn't really the core problem here. He turns back to Audrey and asks where her parents are.

"My Mom wished they were in Bali," Audrey explains, with the innocent acceptance of a child. "So I think they're in Bali."

So this child is all alone with the drunk, porn-obsessed giant Teddy and his existential crisis, and has been for who knows how long – for all that it is played light and humorous, that's really kind of dark. And if the parents suddenly found themselves in Bali, dressed for winter, with no money or passports, and minus their child, they must be going crazy.

This means that Audrey is now effectively Dean and Sam's responsibility, seeing as how they are the only adults who know and fully understand her situation. Sam tells her that Teddy is sick, but runs out of inspiration when he tries to explain just what is wrong with him. Dean comes to his rescue, offering 'lollipop disease' by way of explanation.



Now, here, part of me thinks: okay, cute and funny, move along. But the other part of me wonders what happened to the Dean who was so good at dealing with children on their own level and never, ever talked down to them? The Dean who would have told Audrey the truth here, at least as much of it as a) he currently understands and b) she is capable of understanding.

They are humouring her, I know, because she is just a little kid and they want to protect her as far as possible, keep her innocent. Because Teddy is very real to her and was even before he became alive and life-sized, and she is worried about him. So, okay, in one sense it could be argued that this is her level.

But…although Audrey is very young and innocent, she also seems fairly clued in to Teddy's depression and is very accepting of this whole bizarre situation. So why lie to her at all? Why pussyfoot around with cutesy misleads that aren't necessary? Why not just level with her and tell her that they will do what they can to fix Teddy, but that in the meantime she needs someone else to look after her until her parents get home? She might be very young, and does seem gullible enough to swallow the lollipop disease business, but I'm pretty sure she would accept the truth, as well, and it would feel more in character for the boys.

I get that it's a joke. 'Lollipop disease' sounds like a suitably childish explanation, and is funny: just a light-hearted bit of throwaway fun for this episode – and also a post-modern commentary on the fact that the brothers will say just about anything and pretend to be just about anyone in order to gain access to witnesses and vital information. It is amusing as a passing joke, all surface and no substance…but that's kind of the problem right there. It is all surface and no substance, just a cheap gag that doesn't entirely suit the characters, being more of an exaggeration of who they are, for the sake of impact, than an entirely accurate reflection of who they are.



Audrey looks really bummed out, and who can blame her, as the brothers waffle on about how lollipop disease is really contagious. Then they ask if there is a grown-up she can stay with while they treat him. That's sensible, recognising that she shouldn't be left alone and that the best option is to find a responsible adult to take care of her, one she is familiar with. They are in no position to take care of her themselves, since a) they have the case to work, b) they are complete strangers to her, and c) it would be extremely inappropriate.

Audrey offers that maybe Mrs Hurley down the street might let her stay there, and agrees to ask. I wonder how she might go about asking for that favour and what kind of trouble her parents could get into if it got out that they had left her home alone? I sincerely hope that the brothers plan to hang around long enough to make sure the neighbour is at home and agrees to look after her.

Dean then gets around to the most pertinent question of all in terms of solving this bizarre case: where is the wishing well?

Lucky Chin's

A camera beneath the water shows the little boy who was running from bullies earlier tossing a coin into the well. Well, no – it's actually a decorative water feature with a Buddha on top, rather than a well. But we'll call it a well, just to get into the spirit of the episode.

The kid makes his wish and then leaves, just as Dean and Sam wander in. They regard the well contemplatively. Dean wonders if it works, so Sam asks if he has a better explanation for Teddy. Dean concedes the point, and then notes that there is one way to find out, digging in his pocket for a coin. Instead of suggesting that empirical testing might not be the best idea, since they have no idea what they are dealing with, Sam asks what he is going to wish for. Dropping a coin into the water, Dean shushes his brother, pointing out that you aren't supposed to tell.

Seconds later a delivery guy enters the restaurant and asks if someone ordered a foot-long Italian with jalapeño. Wish granted.

I love that Dean wished for food. Not only is it immensely in character, Dean's appetite being what it is, but it is also practical: something very simple and seemingly completely safe by way of an immediate yes/no answer to the question of whether or not the well grants wishes. It probably seems foolproof, and is extremely smart and sensible…right up to the moment he actually eats the sandwich.

Later

Beauty and the Geek sit cooing over each other.

Nearby, Dean and Sam are now seated, Dean chomping his way through his wish-supplied sub, right there in the restaurant. He notes that the well seems to work – his wish was pretty specific, and here it is. Sam tots up the evidence so far: Teddy and the sandwich. He forgot about Bali, but it's connected to Teddy, so we'll let that one slide.

Dean pulls out the newspaper he was reading earlier and points to the lucky local lottery winner as another probable beneficiary of the wishing well. Sam nods at Beauty and the Geek, guessing their relationship to be wishing well forged, as well, and Dean agrees that it definitely goes on the list.



Dean asks what they are supposed to do – stop people's wishes from coming true? He thinks it maybe seems like a douche-y thing to do. Sam, however, points out that things like this never come without a price tag, usually a deadly one. I'm glad he's noticed that – it has been a recurring theme of this show since the beginning. Dean plays devil's advocate, noting that his sandwich is really good. Still, he agrees that they need to put a hold on any more wishes until they can figure out what is going on.

The manager comes scooting over at this point to protest about Dean eating 'outside food' on his premises. Dean instantly glides onto the offensive, counter-protesting that he certainly isn't going to eat the 'inside' food. He digs into a pocket for his ID….

Wrong one. Holding up a finger to ask the manager for a moment's patience, he tries another pocket and this time locates the health inspector badge already used successfully on Audrey. He then announces that the restaurant has a rat infestation and that they have to shut the place down "under emergency hazard…code 56c." Making it up as he goes along, his stern attitude selling the flannel.

You know…it works. The restaurant closes, which means that the wishing well becomes out of bounds to the general public, which prevents the mayhem of mass wishes. But when you think about it, it's kinda cruel – they might not be real health inspectors with any weight of law behind them, but the owner not only loses custom while his restaurant is closed, but far more damagingly faces loss of reputation. Yet the impact on his livelihood is never once addressed, and Show does usually at least nods at the collateral damage along the way of any given case.

This is a good example of just why I struggle to fully enjoy this kind of humorous episode, in any show. They require the audience to disconnect from the reality of the universe these characters live in and disregard the fact that actions have consequences, undoing all the effort that goes into establishing that reality in other episodes. It's shallow and superficial, all surface and no substance.

I much prefer the depth of the episodes that don't try so hard to be deliberately and self-consciously funny, but instead allow humour to flow naturally from the sequence of events as and when appropriate, mingling seamlessly with action and emotion.

Later

Dean sifts through the coins at the base of the drained well, but can't see anything unusual down there. The restaurant owner – we'll call him Chin, to match his restaurant – indignantly protests that that's because they keep a clean place here. He is treated by the episode as comic relief as much as anything, but this is his livelihood, so it bugs me. Sam immediately says that they are going to have to ask him to leave during the preliminary investigation, just brushing the poor man aside.

With Chin out of the way, Dean tosses a coin at his brother and asks if he isn't even a little bit tempted. Sam scoffs. "No. Wouldn't be real. Wouldn't trust it." Sensible.

Dean points out that the bear seemed pretty real. "Come on – if you could wish yourself back before it all started. Think about it: you could be some big yuppie lawyer with a nice car, white picket fence."

Does Dean really believe that Sam would wish for that, or that his brother really aspires to that kind of life any more? Does he really believe Sam would make such a dangerous wish when they know so little about the source, other than that something doesn't seem right? I very much doubt it. What he is doing here is prodding at his brother in hopes of catching a glimpse of the old Sam, the one that existed before all the death and sacrifice and horror scarred him so very deeply.

As much as he loves his brother, and always will, I imagine Dean would dearly love for Sam to be his old self again, as if the past year or so never happened. This new Sam, who is so ruthless and actively uses his powers rather than shying away from them…this new Sam worries Dean on a whole new level. He has always been made responsible for Sam, and still is – by angelic order, no less. But the more Sam changes, the more ruthless and independent Sam grows, the less influence Dean has over his brother…and consequently also less control over whether or not he can succeed in discharging that particular part of his heavenly orders – with Sam's life at stake if he fails.

Sam just laughs, so far past his old desire for 'normality' that the very idea is nonsensical to him now. "Not what I'd wish for," he shrugs. "It's too late to go back to old lives, Dean. I'm not that guy any more."



No, he really isn't, and Dean can't deny it. It is one of the many issues they have been skating around all season rather than dealing with, burying their heads in the sand and pretending that all is as it was rather than facing up to the true impact of everything that has happened.

"Well, what then?" Dean wants to know. "What would Sammy wish for?"

Not such a gratuitous use of the 'Sammy', there. He's still poking at Sam in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Sammy he once knew beneath the surface of the man his brother has become.

"Lilith's head on a plate," Sam answers, gazing into the well. "Bloody."

Ouch. Having said his piece, he lifts his eyes to meet Dean's, unrepentant. Dean tries to smile, but his face kind of falls.

Sam's desire for Lilith's head is totally not about how dangerous she is to the entire world right now, given her Apocalypse-inducing actions. It's about what she did to Dean, and both brothers know it. Sam was forced to watch as her hellhound ripped his brother to bits and dragged his soul to hell, and he wants to exact vengeance, just as John pursued Azazel for over 20 years in a quest to avenge Mary's death. Sam is so very much his father's son in moments like this.

Dean is back now, out of hell and whole once more. Yet Sam still hasn't let go of his desire for vengeance. Having his brother returned to him has not assuaged the pain of losing him in the first place, and the new realisation that maybe Dean remembers something of his torment in hell can only be adding to Sam's burning anger for the demon responsible.

So, what would Sam wish for, if he could have just one thing? Lilith's head on a plate, bloody. That says it all, and he is not afraid to let Dean know it. There is something very honest and deliberate about that confession: a clear statement of this is who I am and how I feel, and there is no going back.

Trying not to let it show how disturbed he is about Sam's ruthless desire to exact bloody vengeance on his behalf, Dean casts his eyes toward the drained well once more, fidgeting uncomfortably…and notices something odd among the assorted coins.



It is some kind of old coin, Sam observes once Dean has uncovered it. He recognises the markings, he says. Recognises, but can't identify, apparently.

Dean can't manage to pick the thing up, however. Sam chuckles and teases his brother to lift with his legs. Dean rolls his eyes and tries harder, but the coin won't budge, seeming welded to the base of the well.

Later

Dean and Sam return to the restaurant armed with a crowbar and mallet. Chin is alarmed and scurries after them to the well, wondering what on earth they are going to do now.

Dean tries the crowbar, but the coin still won't budge. Chin wails that they are going to break his fountain, but Sam immediately slaps him down. "Sir, I don't want to slap you with a 44-slash-14 but I will," he threatens. Chin is cowed and backs off, while Dean and Sam make faces at one another in acknowledgement of the fact that they are both making up the health code legalese as they go along, but understand completely that a suitably authoritative attitude will sell just about any amount of blather.

Dean now tries a crowbar-mallet combo. On impact, the top breaks right off the mallet and goes flying through the air all of two inches past Chin's head, much to everyone's shock and alarm.

"Coin's magical," Sam breathes, as if he only just figured that out. I love it when Sam is taken by surprise and is amazed by something, because that's when we catch that glimpse of Sammy-that-was that Dean's been fishing for. Dean agrees, sounding slightly less surprised, since it was rather obvious from the moment they couldn't pick the coin up that something magic was afoot. He adds that the coin's hoodoo must be protecting the well and that he doesn't think they can destroy it.

Sam has an idea. He pulls out paper and pencil and takes a rubbing of the coin. From the brief glimpse we catch, it doesn't look like the clearest rubbing ever, but still he hands it off to his brother and suggests that Dean look into it. Dean wonders what Sam is going to do.

"Something just occurred to me," Sam vagues, and takes off without any further explanation. Every time he does something like this, I think about John and about how much Sam hated it when his father behaved so cryptically, and wonder if he even realises that he is behaving in the exact same way.

Left behind none the wiser, Dean offers Chin an awkward thumbs up by way of thanks for his cooperation.

Cascade Women's Fitness Centre

A towel-clad young blonde woman is brushing her bone-dry hair in the mirror. Actually, she looks bone-dry all over, so what's up with the towel?

Wet footprints mark the passage of an invisible someone across the floor. The woman remains blissfully unawares….

Sam strides into the room and, without any ceremony, lays a hand upon an invisible shoulder – rather impressive that he knew the exact spot to grab, no? The Invisible Man instantly materialises, revealing himself as a pasty teenage boy. Blonde spins around, alarmed, but Sam quickly flashes his health department ID at her by way of reassurance, so very stern and severe you'd think he was carved from granite. The woman grabs her makeup bag and runs out of the changing room, still wearing only a towel.



It kills me that Sam gave himself the ladies changing room assignment and stuck Dean with research.

Sam glowers disapprovingly at Peeping Tom, noting that he can turn it on and off at will. Peeping Tom stammeringly wonders how Sam knew he was there.

"You actually walked up to a wishing well, dropped a dime and wished to be invisible, so you could spy on women in the shower," Sam summarises, his voice dripping with contempt.

Hands strategically placed, the embarrassed Peeping Tom tries to deny it. Sam's eyes are dragged downward as if by magnets. He rolls his eyes in disgust and glowers at the boy again. "Put on some pants. And stay visible." He punctuates his words with a few sharp jabs to the boy's chest. Peeping Tom meekly complies, his naked backside just visible in the mirror as he slinks out of shot. Sam looks exasperated.

Why is the kid naked? You'd think it would be cold, if nothing else! It is probably a Sue Storm kind of deal, wherein his body can turn invisible but not the clothes he is wearing, so that in order to remain unseen he must strip. This is never explained in the episode, though. He is just naked, a cheap visual gag.

Street

Dean is wandering along, presumably back to the motel – I'm guessing Sam took the car, then – when he sees a gang of boys running along again, just like before. This time, however, the little kid they were chasing earlier is the one chasing all of them. Dean stops and stares.

"You'd better run!" the little kid bellows after his fleeing peers. Then he sees Dean gaping and scowls. "You've got a problem, mister?"

Dean is taken aback by such belligerence, and the kid races off in pursuit of his erstwhile bullies. No prizes for guessing what he wished for, then.

Dean starts to continue along his way…slightly hindered by the beginnings of intestinal distress. So, turns out he does have something of a problem after all…



Motel

Sam arrives back at the brothers' room to be greeted by the delightful sound of someone vomiting, the bathroom door firmly closed. He calls out to ask if his brother is all right, which, just from the sounds of it, I'm gonna go with no.

"The wishes turn bad, Sam," Dean calls back, voice hoarse. "Wishes turn very bad."

The sandwich, Sam realises. Like I said: a safe, sensible wish right up to the moment Dean ate it.

Pulling the flush, Dean emerges from the bathroom looking drained. "The coin is Babylonian. It's cursed," he wearily informs his brother, and I am delighted to see that Show has remembered that Dean is perfectly capable of the research-fu when he puts his mind to it, for all that the chore of exposition falls to Sam more often than not.



Dean gestures toward the laptop, explaining that he found some fragments of a legend, then breaks off and turns back into the bathroom, fighting the urge to hurl again and firmly repressing it. Coughing, he heads for the fridge instead. I thought he'd go for water, after throwing up, but instead he grabs a can of something. It is probably beer, which would fit with the rest of the episode content, but the can looks wrong to my UK-based eyes, although it's hard to make out with his hand in the way. So I can comfort myself with the thought that instead he is replacing lost electrolytes with a soda, perhaps.

Dean continues that the serpent engraved on the coin is Tiamat, the Babylonian god of primordial chaos, and guesses that her priests were working some serious black magic. They made the coin, Sam realises, sifting through his brother's paperwork. Dean nods, explaining that it was designed to sow the seeds of chaos. "Whoever tosses the coin in the wishing well and makes a wish, it turns on the well. Then it starts granting wishes to all comers."

But the wishes get twisted, Sam realises: so a little girl asking for a talking teddy…. Gets a bipolar nutjob, Dean continues. And Dean gets e-coli, Sam adds, amused rather than concerned by his brother's brush with food poisoning. Dean rolls his eyes.

Dean explains that this thing has hit more than one town over the centuries, even wiping a few of them off the map completely. "I mean, one person gets their wish, it's trouble, but everybody gets their wish…"

"It's chaos," Sam finishes. How many times in one scene can they finish each other's sentences? Count – they do it over and over. On the surface, working a job like this, they are absolutely in tune with one another, brainstorming like old times. In other regards, however…not so much. They just aren't dealing with or even acknowledging those other regards if they can help it.

Sam asks if there is any way to stop it and Dean nods that there is just one way: they have to find the first wisher. Whoever dropped the coin in and made the first wish is the only person who can pull it back out and reverse all the wishes. And in the meantime: "for now we've got a couple of nutso dreams come true, but once the word gets out about the well, things are just going to get crazier and crazier."

Well, shutting down Lucky Chin's should slow that process a little, which buys them some time.

Audrey's house

'Life is meaningless, signed T. Bear' reads the little girl's blackboard.

Sitting alone in the darkened room, Teddy whimpers and sobs as he points a shotgun into his mouth. I would ask where and how he got that…but then I realise that I really don't want to know. The camera pans over into a corner of the room and stays there for a really long time, focusing on nothing, before the gun goes off and an explosion of stuffing fills the air.

The camera pans back to reveal that despite the massive hole in the back of his head, Teddy is still very much alive and filled with despair. "Whyyyyyyyy?" he roars.

Yeah. It's very surreal!

Motel

Sam sits quietly at the desk going through some papers, while the camera pans over to the bed, where Dean is sleeping off his bout of food poisoning. Said camera very kindly pans all the way up his body, from boots to belly to face, and I'm sure we're all very grateful.



So many times this season we have seen Dean asleep, and not once has he been in bed, resting comfortably. He just keeps going until he can't stay awake any longer and then crashes, fully clothed, on whatever bed-like surface is most handy.

Today, Dean has taken the bed by the window, furthest from the door, to collapse onto. Once again, he is not enjoying a restful rest, his breathing shallow and rapid as his sleep is tormented by flashbacks of hell. Flashes of panicked eyes, blood and screaming – this time drawing a whimpered "no" that catches at the back of his throat…

"Dean, wake up." Sam's voice rings out, loud and firm, and Dean snaps awake, jerking upright and fuzzily wondering what's up.

This is the most unfocused we've seen Dean yet, post-flashback: every other time he has snapped back to himself straight away, with little or no lingering disorientation. That it takes a few seconds longer to refocus this time could be interpreted as a sign that the flashbacks are getting worse and that his memories of hell are becoming clearer and more intense, staying with him when he comes back to himself instead of fading immediately. But it could just as easily be simply because he was more deeply asleep this time, and also finds it a little awkward be under Sam's close scrutiny. It isn't clear.

What should be mentioned briefly at this point is that the seven episodes prior to this have seemed to indicate that Dean has very little conscious memory of hell, beyond the brief flashbacks that we've seen. The hallucinations dragged from his subconscious in Yellow Fever did confirm to both him and us that the full set of memories is buried somewhere in his mind. However, the ease with which he has been able to shrug his flashbacks off, and the strength and confidence we have seen from him all season, strongly imply that the bulk of his memories remain firmly repressed, buried deep, and that he has little or no conscious awareness of their actual content. That is our understanding of his situation up to this point.

"Sleep well?" Sam pointedly asks. By way of reply, Dean presses the heel of his hand into an eye and reaches for the half-consumed bottle of whisky he pinched from the liquor store yesterday, knocking back a quick mouthful as he blearily grates out that he is rested and ready. Sam sighs and shakes his head. "Dean, come on, man. You think I can't see it?"

Dean turns to look at his brother, radiating innocence. "See what?"

"The nightmares, the drinking," Sam reels off. "I'm with you 24/7 – I know something's going on."

Okay. This is kind of a bump in the continuity from previous episodes, rather than following on smoothly. Prior to this episode there has been absolutely nothing whatsoever to indicate that Dean has been drinking more heavily than usual. He has always drunk more than Sam, but has also always had an iron constitution and been very good at holding his liquor, and there has been no change in that pattern at all this season. The one time in the season we have seen him drinking to excess was when he was in the grip of ghost sickness in Yellow Fever, and the circumstances there were far from normal. One isolated incident does not make a pattern!

Equally, it has been clear throughout the season so far that Sam had not noticed anything wrong with Dean at all until Uriel put the idea in his head at the end of the last episode. We, as viewers, were aware that Dean was experiencing flashbacks and did not seem to be sleeping well, but never once was it suggested that Sam had spotted anything amiss, preoccupied as he has been with his own concerns. In fact, it seems certain that if he had picked up on his brother's disturbed sleep or other troubling symptoms he would have started asking questions a lot sooner.

Sam's claim here to have picked up on a clear pattern, therefore, doesn't quite ring true, contradicting what we know to have happened so far this season. Still, as previously noted, we do not know how much time has passed since It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester. However long it has been it is clear that Sam has thought hard about Uriel's comments and started watching his brother closely. No doubt he has cast his mind back over recent days and weeks and maybe recalled a few details that at the time he disregarded entirely, details that he now realises point toward his brother's disturbed sleep patterns.

It is also clear that Sam has been nagging Dean for an explanation ever since Uriel spoke to him. We all know that he is like a dog with a bone when he wants something, and it is most likely that Dean's heavy drinking in this episode is something very new, a knee-jerk reaction to the pressure Sam is putting him under – to the fact that Sam is trying so hard to make him talk about memories whose existence he hasn't even been able to admit to himself. Sam hammered away at his emotional defences in similar heavy-handed fashion in season two, and we all remember how badly worn down Dean was by it, his emotional needs at that time being in direct opposition to Sam's. And it is very in character for Sam to seize upon this new symptom, which was indirectly caused by him, and use it as ammunition for his argument.

Dean tosses the bottle aside. "Sam, please," he wearily protests. Sam is asking for something Dean can't give him, because he has to keep his memories of hell repressed in order to function. Saying something out loud makes it real. He is asking his brother to back off, needs his brother to back off, but Sam isn't listening.

"Uriel wasn't lying. But you are. You remember hell, don't you?" Sam insists. Like a dog with a bone. All he sees is the goal he has set for himself, which in this instance is an admission of the truth from Dean.

Sam needs complete information in order to fully assess a situation and develop a coping strategy; that's how he has always operated. From his point of view, Dean's evasions are merely an obstacle that must be overcome, and he is very good at wearing his brother down. Just as in season two, however, there is no sign that he is really prepared at all for what he might find on the other side of Dean's defences once he gets past them. I doubt he is thinking that far ahead, beyond a vague idea that getting Dean to open up would be the start of some kind of healing process for them both.

"What do you want from me, huh? What?" Dean evades, frustrated. From Dean's point of view, there is absolutely nothing to be gained from telling Sam about his flashbacks and nightmares. All it can achieve is more pain for both of them. I doubt he sees any reason why Sam should need to know and every reason why he is better off not knowing.

"The truth, Dean," Sam presses. "I mean, I'm your brother, I just wish you'd talk to me."

Okay, I have to comment here on the hypocrisy inherent in that statement right there, given everything that Sam hasn't wanted to talk about or own up to this season. The Winchesters have always been good at double standards.

"Careful what you wish for." Dean lightly brushes it off, sticking firmly to his no big deal schtick.

It's worth pointing out that not once in this scene does Dean deny his returning memories or try to lie about them. He just refuses to answer Sam's questions, which are meant with the very best of intentions but strike at all kinds of raw nerves. Dean can't face up to his memories. Facing up to them means exploring them means re-living them, so instead he just shuts his brother down.

It is also worth pointing out that for all Sam is having a go about Dean's drinking, we've not actually seen him drinking that much in this episode, taken as a whole, and we're not seeing him drunk on duty at all. Since they started working the case he hasn't drunk any more than we've seen in any previous episode or season, certainly not enough to impair his ability to work the job, especially here at the research stage – he drank far more heavily than this in Blood Fever, way back when, and retained full possession of all his faculties. We've only seen him drinking to excess at the very start of the episode, when the brothers were off-duty between jobs (and Sam was relentlessly harassing him).

Sam snorts, dismayed at his brother's refusal to open up. Dean sighs. "Come on – can we stow the couple's therapy, huh? We're on a job. I want to work. What've you got?" Sam sighs and looks away. Dean tries cajoling. "Please?"

Repression and denial have always been Dean's coping strategies of choice. Any larger issues that he has no control over get buried deep and instead he focuses hard on whatever job is at hand, something tangible and constructive that is within his power to achieve. He needs it.

While Dean glances through the newspaper again, Sam concedes defeat in this round and summarises the wishes they know of so far. "We've got Teddy Bear, Lottery Guy, Invisible Pervert Guy – they all must have wished sometime in the last two weeks. But who wished first and how are we supposed to know who wished for what when?"



Poor Sam. He sounds so depressed. Dean needs to keep his memories of hell buried deep, but Sam needs to know. Right now, all he has is Uriel's vague assertion, which has resulted in him spotting all these clues he had previously overlooked. He must be wracked with all kinds of guilt right now: guilt that he didn't realise anything was wrong until Uriel pointed it out to him, and guilt because it was for his sake that Dean went to hell in the first place. He is so well meaning here. He just wants to help, no doubt believes that he can even if he hasn't put much thought into how, but he keeps running into this brick wall because from Dean's point of view he is only making things worse.

"Well, it helps when they announce it in the paper," Dean perkily offers, coming over to show Sam an article he has spotted. It is an announcement of the surprise engagement of Wesley Mondale and Hope Lynn Casey after a whirlwind month-long romance. Beauty and the Geek. "Ahhh. True love," Dean snarks, and Sam agrees that it is the best lead they've got.

Okay. I need to say this now and get it over and done with. The entire month-long relationship between Wesley and Hope came about as a result of a wish that Wesley made. That's very dubious ethical ground Show is treading on there, given that this girl's mind is being controlled and she therefore has absolutely no way of giving consent or otherwise to anything that she and Wes have done together during that time.

The darker implications there are not so much as nodded at within the episode, however. Show usually does at least pay lip service to the moral consequences of supernatural events…but this episode just glosses over the surface of everything, without ever acknowledging the dark core within. It doesn't sit well.

Mondale house

Elsewhere in town, Wesley Mondale snoozes in front of the TV while Ms Hope Lynn Casey bustles around his kitchen. Picking up a platter, she comes through to the lounge and wakes him…although Wesley, being a guy, immediately claims that he was 'just resting his eyes' rather than sleeping, per se.

I do appreciate the colour coding of this couple. Wesley's clothes and home décor are uniformly drab, with Hope's bright colours and vivacity standing out in stark contrast. It is a clear visual statement of exactly why he wanted her so much, and also exactly why he could never have believed himself capable of winning her, or any girl like her, without making that wish.



The ethical connotations of their fake relationship remain highly dubious, but you can kind see what the writer was driving at here, if you squint: regarding this, as with everything else in this episode, as more of a surreal metaphor than something that should be taken seriously along with all implications and consequences for the individuals concerned. Again, that disconnect from the reality of the Show's universe is one of the reasons I often struggle with this kind of 'humorous' episode.

"I thought you might want a snack," Hope beams, and Wes goggles at the full roast dinner she has prepared by way of said 'snack', immediately protesting in alarm that she didn't have to do that. "I wanted to," Hope insists. "Well, no…I had to. Because I love you more than anything, lover."

She looks positively radiant, but Wes seems rather less delighted. He is clearly having second thoughts about having wished for her devotion, for much the same reasons that Sam stated earlier: because it isn't real, and he knows it.

Wes asks Hope to sit down, and she obliges. Looking troubled, he asks if she is happy. Hope merely repeats that she loves him more than anything, as if she totally didn't understand the question. Clearly, this one fact, that of loving him more than anything, has been programmed in by the wish as the central core of her being, overriding any and every other consideration.

Wes wearily nods that he knows and gently assures her that he loves her, too, very much. "That's why I want you to start doing things that make…" he picks his words very carefully. "That made you happy before."

This is how Wesley's wish has been warped. He loved Hope from afar and wished for her to love him too. However, by making her enforced love for him the core of her being, the wish has stripped away everything about her that made her her, that made him love her in the first place.

Despite making that wish in the first place, Wes is clearly a decent and caring enough man that this distresses him, for all that he seems quite happy to revel in the attention in public. He adores her, and the relationship created by the wish has obviously brought a lot of joy into his life, joy and happiness he'd never thought possible, so he doesn't want to risk losing it. He either hasn't comprehended the moral implications of what his wish has done to her or is in denial about it. But he clearly loves her enough to want her to be happy, to not want her happiness to revolve so completely around him.

Still not comprehending what Wes is trying to say, because that fateful wish is controlling her thought processes so completely, Hope bemusedly smiles that she will try to be happier, that she'll start right away. As she drops to her knees in front of him, Wes tries to explain that that isn't what he means, with all the incompetence of the socially inept, but he doesn't get very far because while he's stuttering Hope is rather more articulately pleading with him not to be angry with her.

Her distress is so great that he has to drop the whole line of conversation to assure her that he is not angry, and that sends her off on another passion-trip, draping herself all over him as she seductively offers to make it up to him. Wes kind of cringes and protests, but really has no resistance against her persistence and no way of escape. And this has been going on for a month now, probably starting out innocuous and innocent enough but then gradually escalating to this point.

Saved by the bell – the doorbell, that is. Hope rushes to get it, eager to please, and as soon as she is gone, Wes drops his head into his hands, wondering what the hell he is supposed to do. Because, of course, he wants to keep her love – but he also doesn't want it to remain so all-consuming. He wants her to be herself and still love him. But no wishing well wish is ever going to give him that.

I really wish this episode wasn't so shallow, just played for laughs. There was so much more they could have drawn out of the concept, starting with making the point that what Wes really needs is to start believing in himself. He needs to change his image and get himself out and about more, to actually meet people and socialise and develop as a person, instead of watching from afar feeling sorry for himself. Because, you know, he must be in his 40s, but he behaves more like a socially inept teenager, someone who has never grown past who he was in high school.

We could have seen Wes learn a genuine lesson that change has to come from within instead of without, and thus end on a positive note, even though [spoiler] he loses the girl. Alas, the episode attempts nothing of the kind and the plot remains weak and ill conceived. It makes me wish Ted Raimi wasn't awesome and didn't make Wes so very likeable!



"Wes! You didn't tell me that you called the florist for the wedding," Hope enthusiastically chides as she ushers Dean and Sam into the lounge. Florists? Heh – as fake identities go, that's a new one! Wes, of course, hasn't the faintest idea what she is talking about, since he did no such thing, but Hope doesn't notice his confusion, being full of joy, and rushes off to get her folder.

Wes is left alone with Dean and Sam. "Wesley. How's it going?" Dean greets him, the words amicable enough while the tone is anything but, Sam fuming visibly at his side, shaking his head at the gall of the man who had to wish for a woman to love him.

Wes starts to protest that he is known as Wes rather than Wesley, but trails off and sinks back into his chair as the brothers take a menacing step or two toward him. Then he recognises them from Lucky Chin's and rallies. "Aren't you the guys from the health department?"

Yes, they are. "And florists, on the side," Sam explains.

"Plus FBI", Dean adds, "And on Thursdays we're teddy bear doctors." Hee. "It doesn't matter who we are. What matters is what we know," he continues.



Sam rather pointedly observes that Wes is a coin collector, eyeing the various framed displays around the walls, and Wes uncomfortably explains that his grandfather left them to him. Dean asks if he happened to lose one lately. "And by lose I mean drop into a wishing well at Lucky Chin's and make a wish on it."

Wes tries to pretend that he doesn't know what they are talking about, but he isn't a very good liar.

Hope reappears, arms full of folders, and starts to talk wedding plans, so enthusiastic no one can get a word in edgeways, explaining that she has a lot of ideas but they don't have much money, since Wes is between jobs right now…which leaves more time for her. Wes squirms, while Dean and Sam offer tight smiles and make the right noises in response to Hope's floral ideas.

"So, Hope," says Sam, full of mock sincerity, every word a dig at Wes. "Tell us how you two lovebirds met."

Hope enthuses that it was the best day of her life – but was the funniest thing. They both grew up here, but she never really knew who he was, not by name anyway. "Till one day last month…it's like I just…saw him. For the first time, he was just…glowing. Oh, just glowing…."

She's fawning all over him, all sexy and seductive, with the brothers' eyebrows shooting up, and Wes deeply uncomfortable because he knows that they know. Desperate to get her out of the room, he asks her to get them some coffee, and she agrees, but then starts kissing him. And kissing him. And kissing him. Over and over and on and on, Wes muttering uncomfortable okays between kisses.



Dean and Sam lean toward one another, eyebrows shooting up into their hairlines, astounded and deeply bemused. Their reactions are the best part of this episode.



Wes finally manages to get Hope out of the room, and then has to face the music. Sam cuts a long story short. "Wes, we know. So tell us the truth."

That's pretty much the same argument he tried on Dean earlier, but this time it actually works.

In the kitchen making coffee, Hope hears the conversation, as Wes explains that his grandfather found the coin when he was stationed in Africa during World War II and brought it back. He said it was a real wish-granting coin, but that nobody should ever use it.

If he didn't think anyone should ever use it, he really shouldn't have told anyone the story!

Anyway. Wes continues that his grandfather was all he had, and when he died Wes just thought why not give the coin a shot? There's a parallel to Sam buried in there somewhere: the urge to use a forbidden dark power born out of grief and despair. It's pretty oblique, however. The episode might have been stronger if it had played more on that parallel, perhaps.

"Yeah, well now you're going to wish it back," Sam grimly insists, and in the kitchen Hope gasps in shock.

That reaction kind of implies that Hope understands that her entire relationship with Wes is based on a wish, and yet no one has said anything of the kind within her earshot. All she has heard is that Wes made a wish that came true and that these men want him to take it back. There has been nothing to connect it to her, and she has been absolutely deaf up till now to all suggestions that there could be something wrong with the relationship. But maybe her recognising that they are talking about her here is also connected to the wish, since the coin was designed to generate chaos.

"Oh, ha, ha. No, I'm not," Wes immediately snarks. He might recognise that his relationship with Hope is based on a lie, but that doesn't mean he is willing to let go of it. It might not be real, but it's all he's got.

"If you don't stop it, something bad is going to happen," Dean firmly tells him.

"Something bad, like us," Sam finishes. Bad cop and bad cop.



Wes isn't especially impressed by the threat, until Dean shows him his gun by way of emphasising the point. "We really wish you'd come with us," he menaces. Wes is startled, and rightly so, because…that's kidnapping, in effect.



It's all very stylised, an exaggerated version of the normal Show. An interesting exercise in terms of creative writing, I daresay, taking what is considered normal for the Show and for the brothers in terms of going about their work and then twisting it to its most extreme. And yet it is all kept light, for humorous effect, the episode asking itself no searching questions whatsoever about the lengths necessary to get the job done, such as gave last week's instalment its strength. It is all very non-standard to watch – and we've had a lot of non-standard episodes already this season. For me, this one is something of a misfire.

Road

The Impala drives along, Dean and Sam in the front and Wes slumped disconsolately in the back. He grumbles that he doesn't get it. "So my wish came true – why does that have to be a bad thing?"

"Because the wishes go south, Wes," Sam informs him, exasperated. "Your town is going insane."

"Come on, you're going to sit there and tell me your relationship with Hope is functional?" Dean chips in. "That it's what you wished for?"

Now, what the boys should be pointing out is the fact that this woman has been brainwashed into believing that she loves this man, and how intensely unethical that is. They steer well clear of that point, however.

Wes leans forward. "I wished she would love me more than anything."

"Yeah," Sam agrees, scathing. "And how is that going? That seem healthy to you?"

Wes protests that it is a hell of a lot better than when she didn't know he was alive.

"You're not supposed to get what you want, man," Dean firmly says. How's that for a worldview, huh? Dean always has been fatalistic. "Not like this. Nobody is. That's what the coin does: it takes your heart's desires and it twists it back on you. You know, the whole 'be careful what you wish for'?"

The Impala bumps, as if it hit something, and everyone is distracted, wondering what the hell that was, and agree that none of them saw anything. They continue on their way.

Once the car is out of sight, Peeping Tom turns visible again, whimpering in pain and clutching at his back, for it was he that they hit without realising it, what with him being invisible and all. I suppose this was written in as his punishment for running around naked and invisible spying on women, and not having taken heed of Sam's warning. Or maybe it was just intended to be funny, with no more thought going into it than that. It isn't funny to me, though. Another joke that falls flat.

Car

"'Careful what you wish for'," Wes mocks, glum. "You know who says that? Good-looking jerks like you guys. The ones who've got it so easy because you happen to be handsome."



"Easy?" Dean and Sam chorus, glancing at one another and scoffing in reaction to this observation, since nothing in either of their lives has ever been even remotely easy, although Wes has no way of knowing that. Hooray for the jinx!

Wes sticks to his point, which is that women look at the brothers, notice them…and he does have a point there.

"Believe us: we do not have it easy," Sam firmly tells him.

"We are miserable," Dean continues. Man, they do that so many times in this episode, finishing one another's sentences. It's all part of the stylised format the episode takes. "We never get what we want. Fact, we have to fight tooth and nail just to keep whatever it is we've got."

You're not supposed to get what you want. We have to fight tooth and nail just to keep whatever it is we've got. Dean's basic belief system summarised in a nutshell. It's been the story of his entire life.

Sam suggests to Wes that maybe that is the whole point. "Yeah," Dean agrees. "People are people because they're miserable bastards. 'Cause they never get what they really want." Well, there's an insightful and very Dean bit of social commentary for you!

"Right," says Sam, joining his brother in fatalism. "You get what you want; you get crazy."

Dean points at Michael Jackson as the perfect example of this, and he has a point there. David Hasselhoff is his other example, which is also a fair point but also kind of a cheek, since he has used the man's name by way of fake identity in the past…

Slumped in the back seat like a sulky teen, Wes protests that Hope loves him now, completely, and it is awesome. He didn't seem to find it so awesome when he was alone with her, but it is understandable that he would feel defensive about it when challenged. He invites the brothers to look around, wondering where is all the insanity they were talking about.

Street

The gang of bullyboys are all crammed into the front of a large SUV, yelling at one another. The scrawny little kid they were tormenting earlier, and who then wished for the strength to get his own back, paces around outside the car, snarling. The other boys yell even louder as he starts pushing at the car, rocking it. It is clear that they are terrified of him, and with good reason.

Nearby, the Impala stops at a junction with a perfect view of proceedings, just in time to see Scrawny Kid tipping the car over onto its side, the boys trapped inside screaming their terror.

I love how the random passer-by in the background ignores the whole scene completely.

In the Impala, Dean gasps that this should cover the insanity angle.

"Kneel before Todd!" Scrawny Kid bellows. "Kneel before Todd!"



So…Scrawny Todd's wish for super-strength has basically turned him into a cartoon villain? I daresay it makes sense that that would be where he drew his inspiration…

I wonder if his parents have noticed?

Seeing young Todd continuing to shake the downed vehicle, tormenting his terrified erstwhile tormenters, Dean hurriedly hops out of the Impala, suggesting that he will handle Todd while Sam gets Wes to Lucky Chin's.

Shocked by the scene of childish violence, an expression that always makes him look all of five years old, Sam slides across into the vacated driver's seat, while Wes leans forward to get a better look, gaping at the super-strong little boy.

Left behind, Dean calls to Todd, asking if they can talk for a second, and the boy turns a hostile glower upon him.

As witnessed earlier, young Todd's aggressive belligerence clearly extends to absolutely everyone he meets, rather than merely the boys who have been bullying him. He wanted to feel powerful, and that means having power over everyone and everything. Dean immediately holds his hands up in a non-threatening gesture and adopts his most placatory tone, bending down to address the boy on his own level, which is about half Dean's height. He says that he knows the score: those boys have been bullying Todd.



Todd responds fairly well to the interest being shown in his plight. "Every day," he angrily explains, defensive. "Every day, you do not know what it's like."

Well…we have never seen any school-based flashbacks of Dean and Sam, nor heard that many anecdotes about their school days. John's rigorous training would have stood them in good stead against physical bullying, but still it seems reasonable to assume that they didn't have the easiest of school careers, either one of them, given that they moved around so much, tended to live out of grimy motels and led such different lives than their classmates. Like Wes earlier, Todd is automatically assuming that because Dean is tall and strong now, he must have had an easy life all his life.

I suspect there is some kind of commentary buried away in there about forming snap judgements of someone based on appearances. Again, it is very oblique, however. See, though, that kind of angle could have been tied to Wes's development, if he was given any, to tell a story about how appearances can be deceiving and there is usually more to any given person than meets the eye. So just because someone happens to be strong and handsome doesn't mean they have things easy, and just because someone comes across as geeky and physically unappealing doesn't have to mean they are unattractive. A missed opportunity to add a bit of much-needed depth to this episode.

Rather than getting into a discussion about his own history, which is not the issue here, Dean concedes that he can't know what Todd has gone through at the hands of these other boys. "But you're you and I'm me," he adds, which is kind of drifting toward the realms of being patronising. Dean used to be better with kids than this. "So…"

Todd despairingly admits that he couldn't stop them, couldn't do anything…and then young Audrey told him the wishing well works.

Dean processes and tries to find the right angle to approach the problem. "Look, I get it," he sympathises. "They are mean little jerks. But they're not super-human, like you. You see, with great power, comes great responsi–"

He was doing reasonably well up till that moment, making progress, but he gets no further, as Todd punches him so hard he goes flying through the air and lands hard in a pile of rubbish bins and bags. Clearly, the child was willing to listen to sympathy but not to any criticism of his aggressive tactics.

Lucky Chin's - outside

Sam and Wes jump out of the Impala, Wed still marvelling at the sight of a child turning over a car as if it was nothing. "Should have seen the teddy bear," is all Sam has to say. "Now, come on. Fun's over: time to pull the coin."

Sam is very hard-line in this episode: brusque, businesslike and unsympathetic, just wanting to get the job over and done with as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Wes hangs back and Sam calls him again, impatient. Wes explodes. "Why can't we just get what we want?" he all but wails.

Sam huffs, frustrated. "'Cause that's life, Wes."

He has no sooner spoken than a teeny tiny cloud appears out of nowhere to slam him with a bolt of lightning. Sam sizzles and falls to the ground, leaving his shoes behind, probably melted to the sidewalk. Yikes!



He's dead? Again? Man, these boys can't stay alive for five minutes together!

Wes gapes at Sam's sizzling body in disbelief, and then steels his resolve and marches into the restaurant.

Lucky Chin's - inside

Hurrying into the restaurant, Wes finds Hope standing at the fountain. "I had to do it, didn't I?" she pleads. "He was going to make you wish away our love."

Wes stares at her, despondent.

Street

Winded, Dean slowly regains his senses and clambers back to his feet. He turns hard eyes upon young Todd, who is heading for the upturned car once more.

"Hey, kid," yells Dean, angry now. No more Mr Nice Guy. Todd turns back to him with a scowl. "I didn't want to have to do this," says Dean, and punches the kid in the face, which is decidedly troubling to watch…but he might as well have struck a steel post for all the impact he has on Todd. There's even a corroborating sound effect to emphasise the point.

Cartoon violence. That kind of sums up the attitude of this entire episode: it believes it can get away with absolutely anything, because none of it is real. The characters aren't real and the situations aren't real: they are all just the means of telling a funny story, and therefore the violence doesn't matter because it, too, isn't real. It is completely and utterly superficial, totally disconnected from the reality of the Show's universe.

Dean doubles over in pain, clutching his bruised hand, and Todd grabs him by the throat. Hey, it's Dean's turn to get throttled for once! Dean chokes, and Todd looks murderous.

Lucky Chin's - inside

"You wished a man dead?" Wes disbelieves, marching furiously toward Hope. She simply repeats once again that she loves him more than anything. Despairing at the outcome of his wish, Wes shouts at her to stop saying that.

Hope just sobs that it is true: she loves him more than anything. "More than me. More than life. Oh, Wes, don't hate me."

Wes can't bear to see her upset, and gives her a very tender hug and kiss. It mollifies her…but he is hugging and kissing her goodbye. "It'll be okay," he promises. "I'll make it okay. It's gonna be okay."

Then he reaches into the wishing well and picks up the fateful coin of Tiamat, amid an ominous rumbling sound.

Street – two locations

We get quick shots of Dean on the ground with Todd strangling him, and Sam lying dead outside Lucky Chin's.

Lucky Chin's - inside

Wes pulls the coin out of the water, and the rumbling stops. He looks over at Hope with a hopeful, wistful half-smile. He knows what is going to happen but is dreading it, and longs for her to remember something – to remember him.

Street

Todd releases Dean, who collapses, choking and coughing.

Sam's eyes snap open, and he finds himself sprawled on the pavement. Sidewalk. Whatever you want to call it, that's where Sam rather unexpectedly finds himself, and he is a little confused.

Young Todd is equally confused, staring at his hands in shock, while Dean gulps down enough oxygen to regain control over his breathing. They gaze at one another in something like trepidation, and then Dean's eyes drift past the little boy to the upturned car, the bullyboys still inside. Dean never holds a grudge, especially when an insane supernatural force was controlling someone's actions, and he thinks fast. "Okay," he wheezes. "Follow my lead and you won't have a problem. Come on."

The bullyboys are just clambering out of the car, none the worse for their fright, when Dean drifts into shot, backing away from someone off-screen looking terrified, pleading for mercy. He glances sideways at the boys. "I wouldn't mess with this kid any more, if I were you," he advises, and then walks away looking pleased with himself.

The bullyboys back away in fright as Todd approaches. Todd barely so much as spares them a glance, smiling happily to himself and then strolling away.



Yeah. I can see what Dean was trying to do there, what the writers were trying to achieve – similar to the way he took young Ben Braeden under his wing in The Kids Are Alright. And yeah, it kind of works, in the short-term at least. But there's the rub right there. This is hardly a long-term solution. How long will it take for these boys to realise that Todd doesn't have super-strength any more? To forget all about his brush with superpowers? To start victimising him again?

Then again, maybe the experience of having that power for a while will give Todd the confidence he needs to stand up for himself in the future. Dean is doing what little he can for the boy in the very small amount of time available to him, because the episode wants this particular sub-plot over already. It just feels decidedly rushed, and doesn't track that well. There's an awful lot crammed into this episode, and the balance is badly skewed.

Lucky Chin's - inside

Hope stands looking confused. Wes straightens and calls her, but she merely frowns in still greater confusion. "Do I know you?" she wonders without any interest, and Wes's face falls. I think even if she had remembered what had happened and hated him for it, he'd have preferred it to this. At least that way she'd have known who he was.

Hope turns and walks out of the restaurant without another word, as if Wes isn't even there, no doubt still wondering what she was doing there in the first place but not interested enough to ask any questions.

Wes is left all alone once again: right back to square one. The biggest problem with his storyline – other than the highly disturbing ethical questions, that is – is that everything he learns from this experience is negative, reinforcing his belief that he will never be loved and never be happy. A subtler approach with the writing might have found a way to make sure he took something positive from it all.

Then again, a subtler approach with the writing might have avoided the minefield of this particular sub-plot entirely!

Lucky Chin's - outside

Hope passes a confused Sam in the street – and him she notices, just as Wes said. She continues on her way, and Sam turns to see a despondent Wes emerging from the restaurant.

Wes holds out the wishing coin that caused so much trouble, and Sam takes it. The two men exchange a look, Sam silently acknowledging that Wes did the right thing in the end, and then Wes sadly walks away.

I must admit: the first time I watched this episode through, I wondered at this point if Sam would maybe use the wishing coin to get Dean to open up. It would tie in with their conversation earlier and the whole 'be careful what you wish for' thing, and would link the two sub-plots in a way that the episode as it stands is sorely lacking.

It wasn't to be, however. As things stand, there is little or no connection between the two sub-plots. To make matters worse, emotionally the two are hugely disparate, so that the episode swings erratically from the light-hearted humour of the case to the intensity of Sam's attempts to get Dean to open up about hell, and there is no balance between the two whatsoever.

Pier

Dean sits on a bench reading the latest newspaper, which announces that the lucky local lottery winner has been revealed as a fraud.

Young Audrey wanders past clutching her teddy bear, which is now normal-sized and has red tap semi-binding the hole in the back of its head. Her parents are with her, looking sunburned and confused. All wishes reversed. Audrey waves at Dean as she passes, but he waits until she is past before waving back, which seems a waste of effort since she can't see it.

Sam arrives and announces that the coin is melted down and therefore shouldn't cause any more problems. We've only got his word for that, however, for all that Show seems to intend us to take him at face value here. Dean notes that Audrey's parents are back from Bali, and it looks like all the wishes are gone. "And so are we."

The brothers start to wander back along the pier, but after a few paces Dean hesitates and calls Sam to hang on a second. Sam wonders what's up. Dean hesitates. He's made a decision to say this, but spitting it out isn't easy.



"You were right," Dean tells his brother at length. Sam is none the wiser, wondering what he was right about. "I shouldn't have lied to you," Dean elaborates. "I do remember everything that happened to me in the Pit. Everything." His tone is grave but calm, very controlled. He drops his eyes and looks away from Sam. It was for Sam that he went. Then he drags his eyes back to see his brother's reaction.



Sam's eyes have gone wide, and viewers are equally startled. Dean remembers everything? Since when?

This is a fairly major bump in Continuity Road. As I mentioned earlier, so far this season there has been nothing to indicate that Dean's memories of hell were returning to him as anything more than fleeting flashbacks, easily brushed off and repressed, with full conscious memory locked away buried deep.

Are we supposed to infer from this episode that Dean has been lying right from the start about his lack of memory, that he has always remembered what happened to him in hell? I can't see it, somehow. If he had emerged from the Pit with his memory intact he would have been an absolute mess, no two ways about it. He wouldn't have been functional at all, but instead he hit the ground running. So, no. I firmly believe that when he claimed in Lazarus Rising to have blacked out his memories of hell he was telling the truth.

What I'm struggling to understand, therefore, is just when Dean is supposed to have gone from having very fleeting flashbacks that he barely even seemed consciously aware of to having what he now says is total recall? I daresay we are supposed to have understood from previous episodes that his memory has been slowly returning, with Yellow Fever maybe intended rather more clearly than came across as the moment he stopped denying it to himself and realised consciously that yes, he does have full recall, buried beneath those layers of denial. It's not entirely clear, however, because even last week it came across more as fleeting flashback, there one second and gone the next, than part of any larger, more permanent, conscious memory.

The problem I'm having is that these returning memories have had very little impact on Dean, from what we can tell. The flashbacks have been easily shrugged off, as if conscious memory wasn't really there at all. His sleep has been disturbed, and we have seen him zone out completely while awake just once or twice, and that's it. Beyond that, he has seemed remarkably strong and confident all season, with no sign of any post-traumatic stress whatsoever.

There has also been no change as time has gone by, no sign that post-flashback distress was starting to linger longer and longer, nothing to indicate that the content of those flashbacks was starting to become clearer and to stay with him after the fact. Nothing to indicate that the full horror of those repressed memories was starting to make itself known to him on a conscious level.

So now they want us to believe that at some point between Lazarus Rising and now Dean regained full memories of hell? I really needed stronger evidence in previous episodes to mark this transition, more of a gradual deterioration to indicate the return of conscious memory, or at least some kind of halfway house between there and here. Maybe for Dean to say that he has been starting to remember more and more lately, instead of coming out with 'I remember everything' so abruptly, or something.

Ah well. We'll see where the storyline is taken from here.

"So tell me about it," Sam suggests, all choked up with emotion.

"No," Dean firmly says, looking him right in the eye, and Sam is taken aback. "I won't lie any more," Dean tells his brother. "But I'm not going to talk about it."



Dean is still very calm and still very controlled. This is about getting Sam off his back, pure and simple, by telling him what he wants to hear on Dean's terms, not Sam's. So he is admitting the bare minimum that Sam asked for and no more. After all, how can he talk to Sam about hell when he can't even acknowledge his memories to himself? How can he talk to Sam about hell when it was for Sam's sake that he went? How can he talk to Sam about hell when his brother effectively threw that sacrifice back in his head by working with Ruby to unlock his powers? So many cans of worms, and Dean has never been fond of opening those.

So how much of what Dean is saying here is completely true and how much is he exaggerating to make his point? Does he really remember everything, in detail? Or is it more that he has become painfully aware that the memories are there, sitting at the back of his mind nagging away like a toothache, but is still very firmly repressing them, consciously and deliberately, rather than examining them? The pain only becomes acute when you probe it.

Sam fidgets. "Dean, look, you can't just shoulder this thing along. You've got to let me help."

Dean manfully refrains from rolling his eyes. "How?" he pointedly asks. "You really think that a little heart-to-heart, some sharing and caring, is going to change anything, huh? Somehow…heal me? I'm not talking about a bad day, here."

Upset, Sam says that he knows that, but Dean presses on, struggling now to maintain his steely composure and getting a little choked up as he is forced to go into a little more detail than he is comfortable with just to make his point clear. "The things that I saw? There aren't words. There is no forgetting. There's no making it better. Because it is right here." He taps the side of his head, almost breaking down but managing to swallow it. "Forever. You wouldn't understand. And I could never make you understand. So I am sorry."



You can't understand and I can't make you understand. He is repeating Sam's words from Metamorphosis back at him, here. Each has experienced something that is entirely unique to him and neither feels able to share it with the other, knowing that there is nothing comparable in his brother's experience that will allow him to relate. Hopefully the course of this season will see them finding a way to bridge that divide, learning that they can support one another and lend each other strength even if they can't fully understand.

It's interesting that what Dean specifically mentions here is what he saw, rather than anything else he might have experienced down there. Every flashback we've glimpsed has focused on his eyes. Now, clearly that is a directorial choice that stems from budgetary issues…but could it also prove significant somehow?

Or is it just that Dean finds it slightly easier to give voice to the fact that he saw horrific things than to admit out loud any other, worse forms of suffering he now remembers enduring? Easier both for him to say and for Sam to hear.

Throughout this little speech, rather than seeing Sam's reaction, we've been watching Dean, watching him struggle to keep up his defences as he comes as close as he has all season to actually confronting what he remembers about hell. Now we switch to Sam, only to find that he has absolutely no reaction to offer.



This is what Sam wanted. He wanted Dean to admit the truth behind Uriel's cryptic comment, wanted Dean to say out loud that he remembers his time in hell. No doubt he meant well and genuinely believed it would be for the best, healthier than bottling it all up. But now that he has succeeded in getting what he wanted, once again he finds that he wasn't actually prepared for it at all, just like in Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things, way back in season two. There is just nothing he can say.

The camera pulls back to a long shot as Dean, having said his piece, starts walking away once more, and a subdued Sam follows.

November 2008

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