Supernatural 4.15 Death Takes A Holiday

"We're talking the end of the world, here."

Man, this is a powerful episode. Powerful and intense, dark, bleak and painful, it's a solid instalment crammed with meaty, angsty character exploration and forward plot movement. One thing's for sure: it's going to be a rollercoaster of a downward spiral from here to the finale!

Then

Bobby introduced Sam and Dean to Pamela Barnes, "the best damn psychic in the state."

Dean encountered a demon he recognised from his time in hell – grand inquisitor Alistair.

Lilith was trying to break 66 out of a possible 600 Seals to free Lucifer, who would then bring the Apocalypse.

Infected by a siren, Dean and Sam spat venomous home truths at one another. Dean lamented how much Sam has changed and called his brother on all the secrets he has been keeping and lies he has been telling, sneaking around behind Dean's back with Ruby. Sam vindictively countered that Dean was holding him back, claiming to be a better hunter and accusing Dean of cowardice. Later when it was all over, Sam was quick to retract his words, and Dean agreed that they were okay.

Now

A couple of random guys wander out of a bar bickering amiably about a football game and fantasy football league. As they round a corner, however, a mugger with a gun confronts them, and one of the men ends up getting shot right through the heart. Yet just moments later he opens his eyes and gets up, insisting that he feels okay. He opens his shirt to reveal a neat little bullet hole, but not so much as a trace of blood. His shocked friend wonders how he is even alive, but the man does not know.

Titles

In a random diner someplace, Dean is fretfully messing around with the jukebox, trying to get it to work, while Sam sits nearby talking with Bobby on the phone.

As Sam hangs up the call, Dean gives up on the jukebox and returns to the table for an update and the remainder of his burger and fries. Sam, tapping away frantically at the laptop, explains that Bobby has found something in Wyoming – a small town where no one has died in the past week and a half. Dean queries just how unusual this is and Sam elaborates that the way in which these people are not dying is what suggests this could be a valid case: one guy with terminal cancer strolled out of the hospice, while another "gets capped by a mugger, walks away without a scratch." He reads out a news article explaining that Mr James Jenkins from the teaser was shot in the heart at point blank range and that locals are calling it a miracle.

"Okay," shrugs Dean, who keeps shooting pensive side eyes at his brother throughout this scene. He knows that he can't trust Sam any more and it is weighing heavily on him, no matter how determined a façade of normal they are putting on.


"It's got to be something nasty, right?" Sam concludes, eyes lighting up with something like excitement at the prospect. "People making deals or something?"

He is awfully quick to jump to that conclusion. Dean looks very dubious and plays devil's advocate, but Sam can't see what else it would be. Sam wants it to be demons because he likes fighting demons, has immediately closed his mind to any other possibility. Dean shrugs again that he doesn't know what it is, and although he seems willing to agree that this is probably a legitimate case, he doesn't seem in any rush to solve it.

Sam, on the other hand, is eager for some action, mind racing. He hastily starts cramming the laptop back in its case and nods at the remains of Dean's meal. "All right. Get that to go. Come on," he briskly instructs his brother.

My, Sammy is getting more and more autocratic by the day, isn't he? More and more like John by the day: dictatorial, obsessive and secretive.

Dean glances down at his plate and then off into space, doesn't move. He looks utterly miserable, his stasis a stark contrast to Sam's sudden bustle of movement. This moment totally encapsulates their whole situation at present: Sam charging full steam ahead while Dean wants to stand still. Dean has never been a fan of change.

Sam is halfway to the door before he realises that his brother hasn't moved. He turns back and snaps out an irritated, "What?"


Dean swallows a mouthful of burger. "You sure you want me going with you?" he very bluntly asks.

And just like that it is clear that however hard they lied to themselves at the end of the last episode, the siren and what it brought out of them has not and cannot be brushed under the carpet so simply. What was said still rankles, quite bitterly. Dean knows that everything he said was true, which implies that everything Sam said was also true, and that must hurt like hell, feeding into his deep-seated insecurities.

It's interesting to see the way the two brothers are handling what happened. Where once Sam would have been the one who wanted to talk through whatever issues were raised, while Dean would have preferred repression and denial, their traditional roles have reversed completely. Sam is locked into pretending that it never happened, that it's over, behind them, and meant nothing. Dean, on the other hand, can't let go of it, too disturbed by all that was laid bare and aware that the issues raised are too big and too important to just drop, even if he isn't prepared to push too hard just yet. I still can't see him being willing to open up to Sam about his feelings any time soon, and the off-hand tone he adopts here supports that, but he is attempting to open up at least some kind of discourse on the subject, albeit in a brusque and almost accusatory manner. Opening the door for Sam to come clean and tell the truth, or at least to meet him halfway – even to walk away if that is what he really wants – because painful honesty would still be better than carrying on like this. At least then everything would be out in the open and they could begin to deal with it.

"Why wouldn't I?" Sam impatiently asks.

Dean takes another bite. "I don't know. I wouldn't want to be holding you back."

Sam rolls his eyes, frustrated beyond measure that Dean won't let this go. "Dude, I've told you a hundred times – that was the siren talking, not me. Can we get past this?"

Sam's frustration is born of his inability to face up to what happened and what it means, what the implications might be, but his attitude here can only make Dean feel worse worse. Sam's irritation that his brother is returning to this issue instead of immediately complying with what he has decided serves only to drive the point even further home for Dean, who is already feeling betrayed and insecure. Too much truth or half-truth came out of the siren incident – Sam's lies and the fact that Dean knows about them, Sam's arrogant ruthlessness and how Dean feels about it, how Sam feels about Dean's post-hell trauma. All massive issues that they need to address before they can even begin to heal and move forward, but all Sam wants to do is deny and repress. Dean especially cannot get over the potentially unforgivable things Sam said to him without talking them through openly and honestly with his brother, even if it hurts. The more Sam denies it all the worse Dean is going to feel, because he knows it is a lie, just another breach of his trust.

His point made, and seeing that Sam is not going to budge from this stance, Dean gives up, dropping his burger as if it tastes bad all of a sudden. "Yeah," he bitterly mutters. "We're past it."

Greybull, Wyoming. Jenkins house

"Now, you two said you were bloggers?" says Jim Jenkins, the man who got shot in the teaser, as he sits down with Dean and Sam. Bloggers, huh. That's a new one.

"Yes, sir," Sam agrees, in his most virtuous tone. "Floored by the lord dot com." Hee! He says it with a totally straight face, too.


"All God's glory, fit to blog," Dean chips in. Heh.

Sam gets down to business, remarking that people around town are saying that what happened to Jenkins was a miracle. Jenkins agrees that it was, and Sam wonders how he can be so sure. Jenkins points out that there is no other explanation – the doctors certainly can't explain why his heart is still pumping away with a bullet lodged in it. Dean asks how he explains it.

Jenkins glances into the other room, where a little girl is sitting colouring at the table, watched over by his wife. "Look, honestly," he begins. "I was nobody's saint. Not exactly father of the year, either. But when that guy shot me and I didn't bleed a drop? I just knew the Lord was giving me a second chance."

Dean, who really has been given a second chance by divine intervention, for reasons unknown, lifts an eyebrow appraisingly, trying not to let it show that the man's words strike home hard. "That so?"

The camera stays on Dean's tense face and strained reaction as Jenkins continues. "I had this feeling – like angels were watching over me. I wouldn't expect you guys to understand."


He has no way of knowing that Dean understands better than anyone in the world, because the angel hanging over his shoulder is 100% real, not just wishful thinking. Rather than a source of life-affirming inspiration, however, Dean finds the angelic intervention in his life deeply troubling, and is torn between knowing that this man's situation is not the same as his and wishing he could believe that it is. "Well, we'll just have to try," he offers, since some kind of response is required.

"You wouldn't have happened to have swung by a crossroads in the past week or so?" Sam pointedly asks, determined to prove his theory. Jenkins is confused by the question and says no, but Sam isn't about to let it drop that easily. "Maybe you met someone? With black eyes? Or red?"

Once upon a time, Sam used to work hard at trying to sound sane while questioning witnesses, while Dean came out with all the crazy questions that he couldn't frame in any way that sounded reasonable. Here, though, it seems Sam doesn't care how insane he sounds as long as he gets the information he needs, while Dean hangs back and worries. Their role reversal is striking in this episode.

Unnerved by such a bizarre line of questioning, Jenkins suspiciously asks who the brothers said they were again. This is Dean's cue to cut the interview short, thank the man for his time, and get out of there, while Sam just looks annoyed that his question wasn't answered.

Motel


Dean is working away at the laptop, looking subdued and thoughtful, as Sam comes back into the room to announce that the cancer survivor was clinically dead but is now taking his wife out for their 20th anniversary. Sam is still sounding very gung-ho about this case, chomping at the bit to get out there and at them, with Dean's very pensive mood standing in stark contrast. Dean quietly asks if there was any sign of a deal and Sam has to admit that there wasn't, sounding almost annoyed about this lack of evidence for his theory, before he asks what Dean has found.

It's interesting that Sam interviewed the second miraculous survivor alone while Dean returned to the motel to research. I wonder whose idea that was, if Sam preferred to go it alone on the interviewing or Dean just couldn't face hearing another person potentially talking about miracles and guardian angels.

Dean has learned that the last person in town to die was one Cole Griffith, a 12-year-old boy who died 10 days ago. Puzzled, Sam asks what he is thinking. Dean shrugs that maybe it is what the people say it is.


"Miracles?" Sam snorts, sitting down at the laptop as Dean rises to pour himself a coffee. "Dean, our experience – when do miracles just happen?"

"There's no deals," Dean points out. "There's no skeevy faith healers. These souls just ain't getting dragged into the light."

Dean would really like to believe. He knows better, but he wants it. Because Jenkins believes that what happened to him was a miracle, angels watching over him, and if that is true it means that Dean is no longer unique, which would potentially be an enormous weight off his shoulders.

Hearing Dean's description of what is happening, Sam realises something. "Maybe 'cause there's no one around to carry them," he suggests, and Dean wonders what he means. "Well, Grim Reapers, that's what they do, right?" Sam thinks aloud. "Schlep souls. So if Death ain't in town…"

"Nobody's dying." Dean still looks sceptical. "So, what? The local Reaper's on strike? Playing the back nine? I don't know, Sam."


Sam suggests that they talk to somebody who might have a better idea – namely, young Cole Griffith, the last person to die in town. Taken aback, Dean points out that the kid is dead, which is likely to make conversation a little one-sided, but Sam is undeterred since that was pretty much his point. "If he's the last person to die around here, then maybe he's seen something. We should talk to him."

Dean sips his coffee. "I love how matter of fact you are about that," he sighs. "Strange lives."


Cemetery

Dean sits on a tombstone, quietly browsing John's journal, while Sam gets set up for a séance over Cole's grave. Dean asks if his brother is sure this is going to work and Sam has to admit that no, he isn't. "But if his spirit's around, this should smoke him out."


If his spirit is around? So…this whole plan is based on a mere possibility that the spirit might be lingering rather than having moved on? Or does the séance summon spirits even after they have moved on? I would assume the latter, in which case if shouldn't be an issue.

Dissatisfied, Dean shuts the journal with a bang and sits staring disconsolately off into space.

"What?" Sam snips. Sam's attitude toward Dean is pretty erratic in this episode. On the one hand there are moments where his concern and affection for his brother shine through, but on the other hand he is frequently impatient and irritated, usually in unguarded moments that can only reinforce Dean's fears and insecurities, after the siren incident.

"This job is jacked, that's what," Dean frets. "You want me to gank a monster or torch a corpse – hey, let's light it up, right. But this? If we fix whatever this is, people are going to start dropping dead. Good people."


Sam looks torn between frustration and understanding. "Look, I don't want them to die either, Dean," he huffs. "But there's a natural order."

"You're kidding, right?" Dean scoffs. "You don't see the irony in that? You and me, we're like the poster boys of the unnatural order, all we do is ditch death."

"Yeah, but the normal rules don't really apply to us, do they?" says Sam, oh so earnestly, and he believes what he is saying 100% and it takes my breath away.


The normal rules don't apply to us. Oh man. That is a scary, scary line for Sam to be arguing. Remember the Sam of season two, who begged his brother to kill him if he ever turned into something he wasn't? That Sam wouldn't even recognise himself any more. Damn but he is freaking his brother out, more and more with each passing day.

Dean laughs out loud in horrified disbelief. "We're no different than anybody else!" he exclaims. Dean never believed that a normal life was possible for his family and has always had different standards for them than the rest of the world. But he considers them special purely because they are his, because of what they know and what they do, not for what they are. They are special, but not different. Average people. Human. That life seems to have singled them out for unnatural purposes he finds intensely disturbing, because he can't understand why, and here is Sam talking as if it is a good thing, only right and proper.

Sam can't quite believe his brother doesn't agree with him on this. "I'm infected with demon blood," he points out. "You've been to hell. Look, I know you want to think of yourself as Joe the Plumber, Dean, but you're not. Neither am I. The sooner you get that, the better off you're going to be."

This is Sam. This is Sam who has fought with all his might against being called or considered a freak his entire life. And now he has changed tack completely, embracing his apparent freak status rather than rejecting it, because with Sam it has to be all or nothing. There is no middle ground. It is terrifying.

The sooner you get that, the better off you're going to be. It sounds perilously close to being a threat, my way or the highway, although Sam doesn't necessarily mean it that way. It is patronising, a blanket statement of I'm right and you are wrong, end of story. Sam's tunnel-vision has always been absolute when he is set upon something. Having decided to follow this path, this slippery slope toward the dark side, he has become absolutely blinkered, cannot see the validity of any argument or point of view but his own.


Dean listens to this lecture with a resigned expression on his face, as if he would dearly love to be anywhere but here, which no doubt he would, puffing out a breath just so he can watch it condense in the cold air – for all the world like a bored kid being lectured by his father. But he isn't, this is worse: this is Sam confirming just how dangerously off the map his thinking has become, everything Dean doesn't want to face up to because he has no way of changing or resolving it, and he deeply regrets getting into the conversation in the first place. "Joe the Plumber was a douche," he grumbles by way of changing the subject.

End of conversation. Sam gets the message and asks if Dean is going to help him finish up. Dean puffs out another breath and stands up, wearily resigned. He has never felt more trapped or helpless, and it shines through loud and clear in his subdued attitude and reluctant body language, throughout this episode. He hates everything about his life and situation right now, but has absolutely nowhere to turn for either solace or escape.

Sam has always been Dean's bright, shining hope. No matter how screwed up his own life was, he considered Sam the one thing that was right, put all his effort into making sure that his brother would do better, would have better. He gave his life so that Sam could live and his soul in an attempt to save Sam's. But now it seems all that endeavour and sacrifice was for naught.

Dean has to save Sam, both by his own inclination, John's command, and on threat of angelic justice; he has been told that keeping Sam in line is his responsibility, and just because the angels are willing for the time being to make use of his brother in the ongoing war doesn't mean that they will let him live indefinitely. The further off the rails Sam slips, the more likely it is that he will eventually be considered too much of a threat and eliminated. And yet there appears to be absolutely nothing Dean can do to pull his brother back from his plunge into the abyss, watching him slide further and further away with each passing day. It must be devastating.

Dean also has a sword hanging over his own head, so to speak. He was pulled out of hell, but that rescue was conditional, and he knows that the angels will call in his debt sooner or later. Struggling to live with his memories of hell, he dreads the thought of going back there if and when he dies again, or if the angels decide he is no longer useful or has not lived up to his end of the bargain. Even if his salvation is permanent rather than merely a temporary reprieve, there is an Apocalypse on the horizon and he doesn't believe they can prevent it. Whichever way he turns, all he sees is doom.

Before the brothers can begin the séance, an angry voice calls out to them and they turn in alarm to see a man coming toward them wielding a flashlight and wearing a suspicious expression. He demands to know what they are doing here, and both brothers flounder hopelessly, unable to come up with a good explanation.

"This is not what it looks like," Dean offers, at length.

"Really?" the man accuses. "Because it looks like devil worship."

"What?" Dean is taken aback and protests innocence, but still can't come up with a good excuse to offer and eventually gives up the attempt. "This is…this is the…. I don't have a good answer."

Sam frowns his frustration as he politely tells the man that they are leaving.

But the man menaces, "You're not going anywhere, ever again – Sam."

Whoa.

While Sam straightens his shoulders, realising the demonic danger standing right before him, the man turns to Dean showing off white eyes. Dean recognises him at once. Alistair.


Wow, Dean looks pretty in this scene. Absolutely stunning. ♥ The lighting and direction in this episode show him off to his absolute best.

"I thought you got deep-fried, extra crispy," protests Dean, his expression the perfect blend of fear, dread and defiance. This demon tortured him for the subjective equivalent of 30 years and then turned him into a torturer himself. When you think about it, it is nothing short of remarkable that after all that he still has the ability to face Alistair down and spit defiance at him, in spite of his deeply ingrained horror of the demon – and Sam had the nerve to call him a coward.


"No, just the paediatrician I was riding," Alistair mocks. "His wife's still looking for him. It's hilarious."

So if even a blast of pure angelic power like that can't destroy him – what the hell can?

Sam's lip curls with utter hatred, his standard reaction to anyone responsible for hurting Dean.


"Anyway," the demon drawls. "No time to chat – got a hot date with Death."

Without any further ado, Alistair flicks his wrist dismissively and Dean goes flying through the air to crash headlong into a gravestone and fall to the ground unconscious. Sam yells in alarm, and then turns furious eyes back upon Alistair, who tries to do the same to him.

Last time Sam came face to face with Alistair he was bested with ease, and he looks a little nervous now…but this time around Alistair's powers have absolutely no effect on him. It is Alistair's turn to look slightly alarmed. "You're stronger, Sam. You've been solar-flexing with your little slut?"

"You have no idea," Sam grates out as he flicks his own wrist and sends the demon flying backward, pinning him against a wall.


Whoa, that's a new trick! A very demonic trick, at that. Oh, Sam. He's positively plummeting down that slippery slope now, straight into a dark, dark abyss. Can he really claim to have his eyes wide open, to have fully accounted for all the potential consequences when making his decision? I don't think he can, and he is deluding himself if he thinks he has. And he can't say that he wasn't warned, because he has been, over and over and by so many different people.

Sam stretches out a hand to exorcise the demon, but Alistair is too fast for him, beating a hasty retreat out of the body he's riding and away. A very nifty camera technique follows the cloud of black smoke up into the air and then pans around and back down onto Sam's face.

There is not a hint of regret at being pushed into using his powers once again. Sam is no longer pretending that he doesn't enjoy the power that he wields, or that its use is an option of last resort only. It seems to have become his option of first resort – although it would be interesting to see how he might have handled this situation if Dean had been conscious to witness his actions. As it is, the only emotion he displays is utter fury that the demon has escaped.


Motel

Dean is sprawled across the bed holding an icepack to his head as Sam wanders back into the room and asks how he is doing. It is nice to see Sam showing concern for his brother, since his predominant emotion throughout most of this episode is anger, or some variation on that theme, from mild frustration or irritation through blazing fury, directed at a variety of targets, including Dean.


You know, some time I would really like to see a connecting scene where the brothers pick one another up post-skirmish and run triage, manhandle each other back to the motel if necessary, because I'm now wondering how long Dean was unconscious for and how long Sam waited with him to assess his head injury before heading back out. We only ever really see the before and after scenes, such as these here.

"I'm in pain, that's how I'm doing," Dean wearily mutters without looking up, self-diagnosing, "I think I have a concussion." Sam offers aspirin, but Dean turns it down. "No thanks, House," he groggily dismisses, hauling himself into a sitting position to discuss the case. "So, demons, huh."

"So much for miracles," Sam points out, like way to rub it in. Frowning, Dean asks his brother to go over what happened with Alistair again, and Sam explains – sort of. "I told you, he tried to fling me, or whatever, and it didn't work, so he bailed."

Despite being groggy, Dean is thinking clearly enough to know that his brother isn't giving him the full story. "How come he couldn't fling you? He chucked you pretty good last time," he points out, and he's got that look in his eyes again, the same look we saw earlier on in the diner, the same look that we saw in Sex and Violence when he overheard Sam's illicit conversation with Ruby and when he looked at Sam's phone – a deeply troubled look born of doubt and fear and trepidation. He hates not being able to trust his brother, but knows that he can't.


For a second time in this episode Dean is offering Sam the opportunity to come clean and tell the truth, to clear the air and at least begin the slow and painful process of healing the ever widening gulf between them. But Sam can't do it – won't do it.

"No idea," Sam lies, smoothly and fluently, and that's the real kicker: that he has become so good at lying, that he can see that look on his brother's face, after everything that's happened, and still lie to him. When every falsehood that he tells is just another nail in the coffin of Dean's trust and self-respect, and Sam knows it, and still he persists.

"Sam, do me a favour," Dean tiredly says, keeping his tone as light and conversational as he can manage, just like in the diner, to mask how he really feels. "You're going to keep your little secrets and I can't really stop you, but just don't treat me like an idiot, okay?"


Damn. Just damn.

Sam hesitates, just for a second, the accusation cutting deep because it is true and he knows it and he has no defence, so opts for denial. "What? Dean, I'm not keeping secrets," he lies yet again.

"Uh huh." Dean holds the eye contact for a long moment, knowing damn well that his brother is still lying to him, withholding dangerously important information, deceit heaped upon deceit. How much longer can they go on like this? "Whatever," he dismisses at length, too tired and hurt to press the issue any further, again unwilling to risk deepening the rift between them by pushing too hard. Yet.

Sam looks conflicted. The deep and painful divide between the brothers hurts him, too, but he has brought it on himself and has no defence. Sam is trapped in a web of his own making now, trapped by his own lies. He hasn't got a leg to stand on if he comes clean and he knows it. Dean is right. He is right about the secrets and he is right about the lies – right in what he says now, and right in what he said in Sex and Violence, when infected by the siren's toxin. But Sam can't admit it because if he admits that what Dean said under the siren's influence was true, that means that what Sam said was also true, and Sam said some unforgivable things that he is desperate to retract. And he also can't admit that it is true because that would bring his carefully constructed walls of denial crashing down around his head like a house of cards, forcing him to face up to consequences and implications that he currently refuses to acknowledge.


Having had yet another attempt at pressing the issue shot down in flames, Dean changes the subject, asking if Sam went back to Q&A the dead kid. Sam says no, he didn't have to. "Bobby called," he explains, waving a small book. "He did some digging. He thinks I'm right: the local Reaper's gone. Not just gone – kidnapped."

So there's only one Reaper working the town? Is that realistic? What if two people died at once? Can a Reaper be in two places at the same time…? Actually, yes – the events of Faith indicate that they probably can! How they are organised, or not, remains utterly obscure, though.

Dean wonders why demons would kidnap a Reaper, and Sam holds up the book again, reading out a rather cryptic passage by way of explanation. Dean is none the wiser, so Sam clarifies. "It's from a very obscure, very arcane version of Revelations."

Damn, they've done it again. It is Revelation, with no s!

Dean sighs. "Which means what I think it means?"

"Basically, you kill a Reaper under the solstice moon – tomorrow night, by the way – you've got yourself a broken Seal," Sam nods.


Solstice moon? That's in June, but I'm pretty sure it shouldn't be June in the show's timeline just yet, since Sex and Violence took place in February. Maybe Sam means the spring solstice – or equinox – which is March 20, and sounds a bit more like it, although still a bit of a jump from one episode to the next.

"How do you ice a Reaper?" Dean wonders. "You can't kill death."

"Maybe demons can," Sam shrugs. "Where the hell are the angels, is what I want to know – we could use their help, for once."

"Looks like we're going to have to take care of this one ourselves," Dean sighs again, looking thoughtful.

"What are we going to do? Just swing in and save the friendly neighbourhood Reaper?" Sam mocks.

"You've got a better idea, I'm all ears," Dean very sombrely replies.

"Dean, Reapers are invisible," Sam patronises, as if speaking to a six year old, as if he has forgotten that Dean has come face to face with Reapers more than once now and does actually know something about them. "The only people that can see them are the dead and the dying."

Damn, Dean looks tired. How hard must it be to keep going on like this? "Well, if ghosts are the only ones that can see 'em," he says. "Then we become ghosts."

Sam sighs. "You do have a concussion."

"Sounds crazy, I know," Dean allows. But not that much crazier than Sam suggesting they talk to a dead child earlier.


"It is crazy," Sam points out, but Dean is serious and Sam stops arguing and takes him seriously. "How?"

Motel. Later

Sam opens the door to allow Dean to escort a disgruntled and disapproving Pamela Barnes into the room. "I can't even begin to tell you how crazy you two are," she immediately proclaims, and I'm going to guess that Dean has already heard everything she has to say about his plan in the car on the way here, but now she gets to say it all over again for Sam's benefit.


Where does Pamela live? How far would Dean have had to travel to pick her up and bring her back here? They are on a tight deadline! Perhaps we shouldn't ask these questions.

"Well, Pamela, you're a sight for sore eyes," Sam falters, taken aback by her antagonism.

"Oh, that's sweet, Grumpy," Pam heckles, taking off her shades to show the blind eyes beneath. "What do you say to deaf people?"

Wow, she's in a bad mood. Sam shuffles, embarrassed, while Dean smirks his amusement at his brother's faux pas.

"Which one of you brainiacs came up with astral projection?" Pam wants to know, and Dean admits that it was his bright idea. "Of course. Chachi," she snorts.

Dean blinks and mouths 'Chachi?' at Sam, who can only shrug. Heh, in the face of Pam's censure, this is the most united we've seen the brothers in a while now.


"So let's be clear," says Pam, feeling her way around the room. "You want to rip your souls out of your bodies and take a little stroll through the spirit world? Do you have any idea how heavy-duty insane that is?"

"Maybe," Dean allows. "But that's where the Reaper is, so –"

"So, its nuts," protests Pam.

"Not if you know what you're doing," Dean wheedles.

"You don't know what you're doing," Pam points out.

"No. But you do," Dean counters.

"Yeah. I do. And guess what?" Pam snaps. "I'm sick of being hauled back into your angel-demon Soc-Greaser crap!"

Dean looks annoyed. "Well, look. I'd love to be kicking back watching Judge Judy too," he begins, prompting Pam to grumble about the blind jokes again. Dean refuses to be distracted by her negativity and hostile attitude. "We're talking the end of the world, here. Okay?" he growls. "No more tasselled leather pants. No more Ramones CDs. No more nothing. We need your help."

That was quite a speech, offering strong motivation for going through with this apparently insane plan. This is what keeps Dean going, in spite of it all, because he absolutely believes what he just told Pam: that no one in the know has the luxury of opting out of this war, however ill-equipped they feel, however hard it is, however hopeless it seems. The stakes are too high not to fight.


It is easy to see where Pam is coming from, though. Her bitterness about her blindness appears to be increasing over time, rather than decreasing as she adjusts to her disability, and she has never faced up to her own culpability for the injury. Bobby brought the Winchester boys to her, at least a part of this war appears to be centred around them specifically, and it was Castiel who burned the eyes right out of her head, and so all of them come in for their share of blame, in Pam's estimation. But she knew what she was getting herself into when she agreed to help back then, just as she knows what she is getting herself into this time. Castiel warned her to turn back before it was too late and she chose not to heed that warning. She wanted to show off what she could do, and was arrogant enough to believe that she could handle anything and everything. Her over-confidence was her downfall, and for that she has no one to blame but herself.

The fact that Pam feels bitter about her injury and wants someone to blame for it is a very human reaction, however. She is a deeply flawed individual with an abrasive personality, and even those who don't like the character must surely appreciate how very real and human she feels. And to be fair, for all her grumbling, hostility and negativity, she has come to help when she was asked, again, even though doing so has worked out badly for her in the past. She didn't have to do that, could have just slammed the door in Dean's face. Even by trying to talk the brothers out of it, she is trying to help, because she knows that what they are proposing is extremely dangerous and is concerned for them. Her attitude isn't exactly geared toward ease of persuasion, but that's just who she is and how she feels.

Unable to talk the brothers out of their plan, and unable to argue against playing her part in it, because the stakes really are too high for anyone to have the luxury of opting out, Pam looks sullen but resigned.

Motel. Later

Some time later, the brothers get set up for their proposed out of body experience. Sam draws the curtains while Dean lights up a few candles. The motel they are staying in looks even grungier than usual, peeling paint everywhere. What a dive! Maybe it is abandoned and they are squatting again.

"Tell me something, geniuses," Pam snarks, determined not to offer even the slightest bit of encouragement, even though she has agreed to help. "Even if you do break into the veil and you find the Reaper, how are you going to save it?"

"With style and class," says Dean, fed up with Pam's negativity. She really did whine his ear off in the car, you can tell.


"You're going to be two walking pieces of fog," Pam snorts. "You can't touch or move anything. You'll be defenceless, hotshot."

"I seem to recall a bunch of ghosts beating the crap out of us," Sam points out, fully on board with his brother's crazy plan and prepared to defend it against all Pam's arguments.


Pam reminds him that those spirits had plenty of time to practice, unwavering in her resolve not to approve of this plan in any way, shape or form, so Dean shrugs that they had better get cramming, equally determined not to be put off.

"Oh, wow. Couple of heroes," Pam mocks. "All right. Lie down. Close your eyes"

Motel. Later

A few minutes later, the brothers are lying on the beds – Sam has the one nearest the door this time, by the looks of it, and he has had to lie across the bed at a diagonal in order to fit. Sam's tall, yo! Being a few inches shorter, Dean fits lying straight.


Pam sits at the foot of the beds chanting a Latin incantation, and then leans back. "Okay, guys, that's it. Show time," she murmurs to the empty room, quieter and more serious now that the brothers are under and there is no longer any need to maintain her hard-as-nails front.

Dean sits up and sighs. "Well, nothing like shooting blanks. What's Plan B?" he remarks, assuming at first that the ritual didn't work. Pam doesn't react and Dean looks back at the beds, seeing both Sam's body and his own still lying there. Sam's spirit materialises at Dean's shoulder, and Dean is impressed. "Oh, I am so feeling up Demi Moore," he snarks.

Heh. Dean made a Ghost reference back in In My Time Of Dying, as well. That was, of course, the last occasion on which he wandered around as a disembodied spirit, although he doesn't remember that experience and Sam has never referred to it again.

So, the ritual worked, and the brothers' souls have been extracted from their bodies. The blue colouring used for the scenes in which they wander around as spirits is very nifty. The direction and cinematography of this episode are gorgeous.


"All right. So I'm assuming you're somewhere over the rainbow," says Pamela, addressing thin air as she stands up to walk toward Sam's body. But, you know, she's meant to be psychic, so shouldn't she still be able to hear them? Whatever. "Remember I have to bring you back. I'll whisper the incantation in your ear," she explains, leaning in to whisper in the ear of Sam's comatose body. "You have got a great ass."

On the other side of the room, Sam chuckles, the words echoing in his ear. Unable to hear words whispered for Sam's ears only, Dean plaintively asks what she said.

Street. Morning

It appears to be early in the morning now, as the brothers wander down the street. As they reach an intersection, a jogger jogs straight through Sam, much to both brother's shock and amazement.

Always one to take pleasure in the moment and in small things, Dean is greatly amused by this aspect of the out of body experience and promptly shoves his hand into Sam's chest, just because he can, to see what it feels like.


Sam just looks at his brother, says nothing. Dean regards him evenly. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" he deadpans.

"Get out of me," Sam sighs.

"You're such a prude," Dean teases, and Sam rolls his eyes.


This is the most brotherly exchange of the entire episode. Even now, Dean can't resist poking at Sam in search of the little brother he used to have, because in moments like this it is possible to catch a glimpse of him. For all his coldness and deceit, however much he has hardened his heart in general, Sam is still capable of having fun, of sharing light-hearted moments like this with his brother, and so it is moments like this that give Dean hope that his little brother is not yet lost.

Another street. Later

"Come on, man, we've been spooking this town for hours," Dean sighs, fed up of wandering the streets aimlessly. "There's no demons, no black smoke… I say we hit Victoria's Secret and get our peep on, huh?"

But Sam isn't listening any more, as he has spotted something, finally. In one of the nearby houses a young boy sits gazing glumly out of an upstairs window – and he is looking right at Sam and Dean, who should be completely invisible, being spirits.

Dean recognises the boy as Cole Griffith, the last person to die in this town, and it's a nice touch that Sam is observant enough to spot the boy, while Dean is savvy enough to recognise him from his picture. It's a nice example of how well they work as a team, even now when they find themselves working side by side rather than together.


The brothers head on into the house. Alas, though, we don't get to see them walking through the walls!

Griffith house

In the house, the grieving Mrs Griffith tentatively enters her son's bedroom and calls out to him. "Cole? It's Mom. Your Dad thinks I'm crazy…are you here? A picture frame fell over, I could have sworn it was you, baby. Are you still here with me?"

Over on the sideboard, a soccer ball starts to spin, all by itself, and then flies through the air, past Mrs Griffith's head to slam against the door. Gasping in fear, she flees the room, running right through Dean and Sam as they arrive.

The brothers enter the room to see young Cole flinging more balls at the door, and Dean yells at him to stop. "How are you doing that?" he wants to know, impressed.

Unnerved, Cole wants to know who the brothers are. "Relax, Cole, its okay," Sam soothes, but that just alarms the boy all the more, as he demands to know how they know his name. "This isn't going to be easy to hear," Sam tells him. "But…you're dead. You're a spirit. Us too."

Cole rolls his eyes. "Yeah, thanks, Haley Joel. I know I'm dead. What do you want?"


Young Cole follows in a long line of excellent child characters in this show, both well written and well acted, bringing the character vividly to life. He is a frightened child, terrified of what is happening to him. He is also playful at times, takes delight in being able to teach something to adults like the Winchester brothers…but there is also a slight edge to him, because he is a spirit, trapped in limbo – and this is how angry spirits are born. Cole isn't dangerous yet, but if he was left in this situation indefinitely he soon could and would be.

Downstairs

A disconsolate Cole watches glumly as Mrs Griffiths pours herself a drink. Behind him, Dean and Sam sit at the table, also watching.

How come they can sit on those chairs and lean on the table, and Cole can lean against the door, if they are just spirits and can move through surfaces?

Watching his grieving mother, Cole quietly explains the circumstances of his death: he'd been playing outside, and the cold air triggered a fatal asthma attack. "It happened so fast. I called out for my Mom, but nothing came out, everything started spinning…and then I was just standing there looking down at my body."

Dean's looking ever so pretty again for this scene, incidentally – the lighting and direction of this episode really suit him!


Sam guesses that's when Cole saw 'the man'. Now, Cole hasn't said anything yet about seeing a man, but Sam knows that this case is connected to a Reaper and his only experience of Reapers is the one Dean saw in Faith, which was described to him as a creepy old man in a black suit, so he is assuming that Cole would have encountered the same thing. As coincidence has it, the Reaper who came for Cole pretty much fits that exact description: another creepy old guy in a black suit. "Wanted me to go with him, but I didn't want to go."

Sam asks how Cole got rid of him. He automatically assumes that it is about fighting, that if a Reaper comes to take a soul and that soul resists, the Reaper must be fought off with physical (or metaphysical) force. That isn't how it works, however. It isn't about fighting. It is about making a choice – choosing to hang on to a life that has already ended or making the decision to let go and move on. Dean learned that once, but he doesn't remember it now.

Cole nervously explains that he didn't get rid of the man – the black smoke did. "It was everywhere. I hid in the closet, and when I came out it was gone and so was he."

Dean leans forward to ask if Cole knows where the black smoke went. Cole says no, but he does know where it is.


Just then the lights start to flicker. Cole about jumps out of his skin with fear, while everyone else – including Mrs Griffiths, out in the kitchen – looks around in consternation. Fearing that 'they' are back, Cole flickers out of existence, leaving Dean and Sam alone in the room. A fierce wind blows through the room as a ghostly figure flies upstairs. Another Reaper, Dean realises, rushing to the stairs and calling after it.

A moment later, a young woman walks downstairs, cool and composed. It is Tessa, the Reaper Dean met in In My Time Of Dying.

"Dean," Tessa serenely greets him, but of course Dean does not remember their previous encounter and so wonders bemusedly if he knows her. "We go way back," she enigmatically smiles.

Dean looks more than a little freaked out by the implication.


"You don't remember me," Tessa observes, leading the way back into the sitting room.

Unnerved, Dean opts for bravado. "Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a girl say that. You're going to have to freshen my memory."

It seems Tessa is only happy to do just that. Stepping right up close, she kisses him gently on the lips…triggering a flashback of his time as a spirit in In My Time Of Dying. Just another memory he was better off without, on the whole, although his regaining it brings marvellously poignant closure to that storyline. Damn, the look on his face as she steps away again. He looks shattered.


"Tessa," he remembers, and she coolly replies that it is one of her names.

Sam is starting to look decidedly alarmed. "So you do know her?" he frets. If Dean knows a Reaper by name…well, there are several past scenarios to choose from, but none of them are good.

Holding eye contact with Tessa, Dean explains that he knows her from the hospital after the accident, and Sam puts the pieces together at once. "So this is the Reaper that came after you," he bristles, glaring at Tessa – pretty much the same reaction he had to Alistair earlier, resentment of someone he believes to have harmed or threatened his brother in some way.

Tessa is as cool and collected as ever, showing no sign of interest in just what Dean and Sam are doing wandering around the spirit world, since she has a job to do and would like to get on with it, thanks all the same. Dean calls her back to argue that she can't take Cole, and she demands to know why. "Demons are in town, that's why," he insists. "They've already snatched your Reaper pal – the kid knows where."

"So?" Tessa is not the slightest bit interested. She is what she is, she is Death, and ushering lost souls into the beyond is the only thing that matters to her.

"So, you should shag ass," says Sam. "For all we know they could try and snatch you too."

Both brothers are kind of missing the point with this line of argument. Tessa does not care about her individual existence any more than she cares about the Apocalypse, because neither falls within her remit. She isn't an individual so much as a function. She is what she does and what she does is usher the souls of the deceased into the beyond. Nothing else matters. "Except that this town is off the rails," she calmly states. "And someone has to set it straight."

So now I'm wondering how Reapers are organised, and having visions of Dead Like Me! Did Tessa decide herself to come here, noticing something wrong, or was she sent by a higher power? However they are or aren't organised, fellow Reapers in general have taken their time noticing what's going on here.

Mrs Griffiths wanders past, oblivious to the debate, as Dean argues that these are special circumstances. "What? Your whole angel-demon dance-off," Tessa lightly scoffs. "I could care less."


Man, I really hate that so commonly mangled saying – if you could care less then you are saying that you do care, and that's the opposite of what the phrase is supposed to mean. What Tessa means is that she could not care less, i.e. doesn't care at all. "I just want to do my job," she firmly states. Her job is the only thing that matters to her.

Sam tries to argue that they want to help her do her job and that's why they want her to bail town, but Tessa firmly refuses and Sam looks annoyed. Dean compromises by asking her to just hold off until they fix this. "Please," he wheedles.

Tessa gives in. "All right. But just so we're clear – when I start reaping again, I'm starting with the kid."

Sam agrees to those terms, and heads off to find Cole. Dean calls him back to ask just what he thinks he is going to say to him, and Sam looks conflicted. "Whatever I have to," he admits. At least he's telling the truth, for once, but he either doesn't see or chooses to ignore how disturbed his brother looks at the admission, no doubt wondering again just where Sam's ethics and compassion have gone.


Upstairs

Sam wanders into Cole's bedroom, which is a fantastic set – the designers have done a great job kitting it out to subtly tell us who Cole was when he was alive, adding layers to his story. The room draws a clear picture of Cole as a lively, active young boy: there are trophies, balls, pictures of Cole as a scout, framed samples of knots, skateboard, computer, keyboard – even a couple of oars leaning against the wall.


Sam goes and sits down alongside the closet, which is where Cole is hiding – just he hid there last time, as he told the brothers. "This all must be pretty overwhelming, huh," Sam begins. "Pretty scary, too." Cole admits that the worst is his mother, and Sam guesses that it must be hard seeing her like this.

"She's always coming in here, talking to me, telling me how sad she is," Cole sadly explains. "I knocked some stuff over to let her know I'm here, but she only gets sadder." And so, in his frustration, he threw that ball at her. This is how angry spirits are born. It is a subtle and timely reminder that Cole cannot be left like this. It would only be a matter of time before he became truly dangerous. Persuading him to let go and move on before that happens is as much a valid part of this case as saving the captive Reaper, however insignificant the spirit of a frightened child might seem alongside the impending Apocalypse.

Sam mildly suggests that Cole might want to ease up on the flying soccer balls, but the boy counters that he isn't going to tell where the smoke is. Enough with the small talk.

We are given an intense close-up of Sam's face as he steels himself to say whatever he feels it will take to get Cole to talk – to get Cole to talk sooner rather than later, moreover. He does not want to invest any more time in reassuring him than necessary, regarding the boy as merely incidental to the bigger picture, a means to an end, where once upon a time finding a way to end the child's suffering would have mattered intensely to him, no matter what else was going on. This is the contradiction that Sam has become this season. He is still Sam, still capable of sympathy and at least an outward show of sincerity, easily able to convince and persuade…but his ruthlessness seems to know no bounds these days, with no limit to the lies he is prepared to tell in order to get his way. He might argue that it is necessary, but it is a slippery slope and he is skidding down it apace.

"What if I told you that if you helped me, you wouldn't have to leave here, ever," he offers, lying through his teeth because Tessa is going to take this boy's soul no matter what and he knows it, knows also that Cole will be better off that way than left here in limbo, but nonetheless prepared to tell the boy what he wants to hear if it will persuade him to talk. "Tessa? She wouldn't bother you. No Reaper would. You could just stay here with your family for as long as you wanted."

He isn't even trying to reason with the boy, to do what is best for Cole. All he sees is his goal and the fastest route to attaining it; the little people who get trampled along the way have become incidental and inconsequential, it seems.

"You can do that?" Cole tremulously asks, and Sam confidently claims that he can. "You swear?" Cole presses.

Sam sets his resolve, cold and implacable. "I swear."


Remember Roadkill, back in season two, how much Sam hated misleading Molly, even though it was necessary to resolve the case and set her spirit at rest. Now he doesn't so much as flinch, he has so accustomed become to ignoring his conscience.

Downstairs

"I'll tell you, life is funny," Tessa conversationally remarks as she and Dean wait for Sam. "You and me, together again […] You're the one that got away, Dean. You'd be surprised how little that happens to me."

Dean eyes the Reaper pensively. "Can I tell you something, between you and me?" he asks, and she points out that she doesn't exactly have anyone to spill any secrets to. Thus encouraged, Dean presses on, and Tessa regards him evenly, no judgement, easy to confide in. "After our little, uh, experience…for that whole year I felt like I had this hole in my gut, like I was missing something. I didn't know what. But you know what it was? It was you. The pain of losing my father. And Sammy. I just…I wish I'd gone with you, for good. But I guess things are different now."


He's tearing up as he speaks, finally verbalising – or at least attempting to – what we've watched him go through over the seasons since his miraculous recovery. It has always been clear how bitterly convinced he was that he should have died that day, and that he traces all the pain and suffering in his life since back to that moment. He was reluctant to go with Tessa when he first encountered her because he couldn't let go of his family and his deeply ingrained need to support and protect them, but the downward spiral ever since has been devastating. Dean was restored to health only to immediately lose his father in exchange for his life, and his guilt and despair were crippling. All his efforts to protect Sam were ultimately in vain and he was forced to watch his baby brother die in his arms. Worse still, his own death, coming as it did as a result of his desperate, grief-stricken attempt to redress the balance, ultimately became the trigger for Sam's descent into darkness.

'Dad brought me back, Bobby, I'm not even supposed to be here,' Dean brokenly told Bobby in All Hell Breaks Loose in an attempt to justify making the deal to restore Sam's life. He believed, with all his heart, that he should have died, and that by restoring Sam's life at the cost of his own he was also restoring the natural order, ridding himself of the burden of his borrowed life. The sacrifice that he made seems only to have made things worse, for both brothers, but the driving motivation behind it remains intact, maybe stronger now than ever. I wish I'd gone with you, for good. Dean believes that he should have died first, before any of this happened – maybe preventing any of it from happening – and wishes with all his heart that he had.


But things are different now. 'It's an honourable death – a warrior's death,' Tessa said in In My Time Of Dying, but I doubt Dean believes that such a peaceful, honourable death is a possibility for him any longer, after everything that he has been through and done, no matter how much he craves it. Yet he knows that he was pulled out of hell for a reason, and can still only speculate what that reason was.

"What? The angels on your shoulder?" Tessa lightly scoffs.

"So you know about that, huh," Dean remarks. "Well, don't get me wrong, most of the ones I've met are dicks with wings. But still. You know, I've done things. Horrible things. And someone, upstairs, still decided to give me a second chance. It just makes me feel…" He can't find the words for it, too choked up to continue anyway. "I don't know."

He remains utterly focused on what he did in hell, so stuck on the awfulness of his own actions that he hasn't even begun to process what was done to him, to bring it about. All he knows is that he did not deserve to be given this second chance, and does not understand why or what for. The angels have work for him, he was told, but the nature of that work remains shrouded in mystery. He was instructed to keep Sam on the straight and narrow, has been warned about the forthcoming Apocalypse and asked to help with the odd battle or two along the way, but not once has he been told this is it, the requirement or condition upon which his salvation rests and the price that must be paid for his restored life. Without that understanding he remains stuck in limbo, waiting for the other shoe to drop and left to interpret his unique rescue as best he can.

Sam clears his throat to warn that he is on his way back into the room with Cole, and I wonder how much of that he heard – I very much doubt Dean would have wanted him to hear any of it, especially not after the last episode.


Cole looks alarmed to see Tessa, but she smiles and assures him that she isn't going to hurt him, and Sam offers more reassurances before prompting the boy to tell the others what he saw. Cole tentatively explains that he saw the black smoke at his funeral – not the cemetery, but at the funeral home.

Just then the lights start to flicker once again, much to the consternation of everyone except Tessa, who serenely says that she isn't responsible but doesn't seem at all curious or concerned to know who is.

Thick black smoke comes rushing in the front door, engulfing the quartet. When the smoke clears, Tessa is gone. Another Reaper lost to the demons.

"How the hell are we supposed to fight that?" Dean wonders, frustrated.

"I don't know. Learn some ghost moves," Sam suggests, equally frustrated.

"By tonight?" Dean disbelieves, sarcastic. "Yeah, sure. I'll meet you back at Mr Miyagi's!"

"Who's Mr Miyagi?" Cole pipes up, and the brothers turn appraising eyes upon him.

Outside

Mr Miyagi is Cole, in this instance, it seems.

"It's not going to move if you don't concentrate," the boy teases as Dean stands and stares at a little windmill toy fixed to the porch fence. Dean grumbles that he is concentrating and tries again, while Sam lounges behind him looking slightly bored, since it isn't his turn.

Does Sam remember the glass smashing incident from In My Time Of Dying, I wonder, or understand that it was Dean who did it? He doesn't seem to.

Dean finally manages to make the windmill turn – just one rotation, but he is elated with his success.



Cole is unimpressed, however, and to prove his point turns on a highly impressive display, spinning the windmill, rocking the swing, and making the wind chimes chime madly. Sam and Dean are very impressed, which kills me because under normal circumstances they'd be reaching for the rock salt right about now!

It is rare, on the show, for a spirit to be portrayed as a fully self-aware and sentient individual in the way that young Cole is. The majority are mere fragments of the person they once were. But the fact that Cole has become so strong already, less than two weeks since he died, suggests that if he were left like this it would not be long before he started lashing out in anger. There is a reason spirits are meant to move on once they depart their bodies.

"Dude!" Dean crows. "You are so Amityville."

Cole is delighted. "This isn't even the good stuff."

Inside

Back in the sitting room, Cole punches Sam hard in the stomach and chirps that if the brothers want to hit something they just have to get mad. Like Dean did prior to smashing that glass in In My Time Of Dying, in fact. Cole invites Dean to take a swing at him, but Dean can't bring himself to do it. "I think I'll just stick to picking on somebody my own size."

He didn't hold back from hitting a much smaller child in Wishful Thinking. Even if that child did have super strength, the out of character behaviour still rankles, all the more when held up against Dean's usual manner toward children, such as seen here. I really don't like Wishful Thinking.

Chortling his delight, Cole smacks Dean in the face, loving the opportunity to teach and show up a couple of grown-ups as only a pre-teen can. Sam laughs out loud, but the shoe is soon on the other foot as Cole turns back to him and invites Sam to hit him as hard as he can.


"Dude, I'm not going to do the Fight Club with a twelve-year-old," Sam snorts, talking down to the boy in much the same way that he tends to talk down to Dean, and Cole punches him hard in the face almost before he's even finished his sentence. "All right, cut it out," he snips, not enjoying the game any more.

"Make me," Cole taunts, taking another swing. Sam quickly blocks the blow this time, and takes a swing of his own – not so hard to persuade him to hit the child after all. But Cole vanishes before Sam's fist can connect and reappears, grinning, on the other side of the room.

"Whoa. Whoa, you've got to teach us that," Dean enthuses.

Street. Outside funeral home

The outside of the funeral home is covered with glowing symbolst. Dean and Sam gaze at it in disbelief, observing that none of the people wandering the streets seem able to see it, as if it is demonic invisible ink so that only those in the veil can see it. Neither has any idea what it is all for, so they head on inside.

Inside funeral home

Inside, the brothers split up to look around, and then regroup to head deeper into the building.

In the chapel, Tessa and the other Reaper lie unconscious inside a large symbol painted on the floor. Dean and Sam stop short upon seeing them – and the demon standing guard over them. "Dude, check me out," Dean grimly tells his brother, striding toward the demon. He flickers out of existence as he walks and reappears right behind the demon, taps him on the shoulder and punches him as hard as he can.

The demon recovers and swings…but Dean is no longer there. He turns around full circle, but the room is empty. Then another hand taps him on the shoulder. Sam this time, with the same result, but this time Dean is right behind the demon as he staggers backward from the force of the blow. The brothers tag-team to beat the demon down and he scrabbles away behind the coffin on the dais.


The brothers follow, enjoying their success and team-work…but at that moment another demon races out of hiding, yelling in pain as it drags a heavy chain across the front of the platform they are standing on – a chain that already wraps around the back of the platform and now encircles the brothers completely. The demon they were fighting, expecting this development, reacts fast, rushing away before the circle is closed. The chain is made of iron, which has burned the hands of the demon wielding it, and as spirits the brothers can't cross it – they are completely trapped.

Another demon walks into the room, cool and calm and sardonic. "Boys," he drawls, eyes shining white. "Find the place okay?"

The brothers' individual reactions to Alistair's presence are perfect: Sam positively seethes with impotent rage, while Dean freezes, absolutely rigid, like a statue. This is the creature that tortured him for, subjectively, longer than he had been alive, the creature that turned him into a torturer. The relationship between a torturer and his victim is always very intense and very twisted.


One of the demon minions hands Alistair a shotgun, which is apparently loaded with rock salt. Without saying a word, he casually fires at Dean, who disappears with a yell. Because casual pot shots at Dean purely for the sake of causing pain is an entertaining habit to fall back into, after their time together in hell.

"Rock salt's not so much fun any more, is it?" the demon smirks at Sam, who is practically incandescent with fury.

Dean reappears again with a gasp. "Alistair, you bastard," he grunts, blazing with defiance.

Alistair turns his attention to Sam. "Well, go on," he taunts. "Why don't you try some of your mojo on me now, hotshot? It's hard to get it up when you're not wearing your meat."

The fact that Sam is unable to access his powers as a spirit stands as further evidence, if such were needed, that those powers originate from his demon blood and are not a part of who he is in spirit, his human soul.

"Go to hell," Sam fervently but rather lamely retorts.

"Oh, if only I could," Alistair sighs, rather bitterly. "But they keep sending me back up to this arctic crap hole."

"To kill Death?" Dean questions, neatly prompting the demon to explain what all this is about.

"To kill Death twice," says Alistair, explaining willingly enough that it takes two to break a seal and that he had figured another one would show up eventually. "They're like lemmings."


It took almost two weeks for the second Reaper to notice there was a problem and come to pick up the slack, though – Alistair was lucky, really, that it didn't take any longer or he'd have been out of time for this ritual, since it has to be tonight.

Having explained this much, Alistair casually fires at Sam, his turn to be blown away by the rock salt for no other reason than it amuses the demon. Left alone with his nemesis, Dean tenses, anxious and dismayed as Alistair taunts that it is good to see him again.

"You can shoot us all you want, but you can't kill us," Dean defiantly declares as Sam reappears, gasping.

"Oh, that so?" Alistair knowingly and ominously smirks.

Motel

Back at the motel, Pamela is still sitting around waiting with Dean and Sam's abandoned bodies, which leads me to wonder just how she is supposed to know when it is time to bring them back and also what condition their bodies are in. Are they even still breathing, without their souls? How does the spell keep their bodies alive? Just how dangerous is this?

What is pretty clear is that all three occupants of the room are extremely vulnerable. Dean and Sam's bodies are comatose and therefore completely defenceless, and the only guard they have is a blind woman, whose ability to defend even herself is limited, never mind protecting her charges. There is no sign of any anti-demon defences having been set up around the room. Rock salt might have been problematic since Dean and Sam had to get in and out of the room, but there is no evidence that ghosts are affected by devil's traps or the like, which would afford some protection at least and have been used very effectively in the past.

Hearing a creaking sound and strange wind, Pamela stands up to investigate, feeling her way to the door, which she locks.

Mean to tell me the door wasn't locked right from the start? Sheesh! Pam having to lock it now adds suspense and drama to this scene, but makes both her and the boys look really, really sloppy in their preparations.

The wind is still blowing – and a window appears to be open, yet another hole in the defensive perimeter. Seriously! Or are we meant to conclude that the window was closed previously and has now been opened, by an unknown agent. We saw Sam closing the curtains earlier, but didn't get a good look at the window behind. Either way, Pam looks nervous.

Funeral home

Alistair turns a sickle over in his hands and holds it up to admire, remarking that the moon is in the right spot and the board is set. He is standing right in front of Dean, whose eyes are glued to him – so subtly done, the way the demon keeps toying with Dean, if only by maintaining uncomfortable proximity, knowing that it won't take much to get under his skin just enough to unsettle him, just for fun, because of their history. "Let's get started, shall we?" he grins, as we catch a quick glimpse of Sam standing nearby looking furious still.

Dean hangs on to his defiance as the only weapon currently available to him. "You're going to kill a Reaper with that?" he sardonically disbelieves. "It's a little on the nose, don't you think?"


"Is it?" Alistair looks at the sickle again. "An old friend lent it to me. You know, he doesn't really ride a pale horse. But he does have three amigos, and they're just jonesing for the Apocalypse. It pays to have friends in low places, don't you think?"

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? Really? Well, why not, I suppose! The point is that this is no ordinary sickle. If it is really meant to be the weapon of Death, of course, it should perhaps be a scythe, long-handled, but this short-handled sickle is a little more practical for close-up work like this.

Alistair strides over to the circle, going to the old man first. Kneeling, he hauls the man up by his lapel, and the Reaper wakes just enough to know what is happening, but seems unable to struggle or resist in any way. Bound by the symbol he lies within just as the Winchesters are caged in by that iron chain and unable to resist in any way. Holding the sickle to the Reaper's throat, Alistair starts to chant in Latin, or some such language, and then viciously cuts the Reaper's throat.

A blinding flash of white light crackles through the room, demonstrating the power of this ritual.

Alistair drops the first Reaper. There's no blood, of course. This is just a form the Reaper assumes, which is visible only on a spiritual plane, not a physical body, and Alistair's execution of it is mystical rather than material.

One down, one to go. Alistair stands, looking triumphant. Trapped on the dais, Sam casts his eyes around the room in desperation, searching for something, anything, he can use to stop this demon. He doesn't have access to the powers afforded him by his demon blood, upon which he has become so accustomed to falling back in demonic encounters. But he does have his newly acquired ghostly abilities. Looking up at the ceiling, he sees a chandelier, hanging right over the circle.

Tessa's turn. Alistair hauls her up and sets the sickle at her neck, and she rouses enough to gasp a protest. Dean casts frantic eyes at Sam, who flicks a glance up at the chandelier. Message received and understood. Both brothers focus their attention on that chandelier, working in tandem in a way we rarely get to see these days.

Alistair begins to chant.

Motel

Back at the motel, Pamela closes the window and starts to prowl around the room, checking the perimeter – which must take some guts, given that she is blind and pretty much defenceless against whatever might have got into the room with her. She grits out angry, defiant invective by way of masking her fear as she feels her way around the room…but it is very, very easy for the demon invader to hide from her, smirking.

Pamela is a psychic, however. She knows it is there, even though she can't see it, and dashes to Sam's bed to frantically recite the recall incantation into his ear. The demon grabs her before she can get it out, however, and a desperate struggle begins.

Funeral home

As Alistair chants, Dean and Sam strain desperately in their attempt to move the chandelier, firmly bolted to the ceiling though it is. It starts to rattle and shake with their combined effort. Alistair is oblivious, focused on his Seal-breaking ritual.

Just as Alistair's chant reaches its conclusion, the chandelier comes crashing down – very conveniently scraping enough paint to break the circle that is holding Tessa in place. Impeccable timing. Tessa immediately flickers out of the demon's grasp and reappears to remove the iron chain trapping Dean and Sam.

"Bye-bye," Dean grimly smirks as he and Tessa flicker away, Sam just a second behind them.

Street

Dean and Tessa materialise in the middle of a random street, but there is no sign of Sam. Dean tells Tessa to get out of there, while he goes and looks for his brother.

Motel

At the motel, Pam is desperately fighting for her life. She manages to kick the demon away long enough to frantically rattle through the whole incantation this time, screaming it at Sam as the demon hurls her across the room. Winded, she has no time to recover before the demon plunges a hefty knife deep into her gut and up into the diaphragm. Yikes!

Sam finally snaps awake on the bed and takes just a second to realise, with horror, what is going on. The demon pulls his knife out of Pam's abdomen, bloodless because there are still no active Reapers in this town, and then leaves her to collapse to the ground while he turns his attention to Sam.


Sam doesn't hesitate for so much as a second. Stretching out a hand, he flings the demon away, pinning it to the wall, then stands and stretches out his hand again, curling it into a fist as if crushing the demon out of the host body. He grimaces his effort and anger, but there is no sign whatsoever of the strain, pain and nosebleeds of yore. This exorcism is effortless and instinctive and Pam, on the floor gasping in pain, looks deeply disturbed by what she is sensing.

Damn, Sam is scaring me, spinning out of control and he can't even see it. He is so powerful now, and doesn't hesitate for even a second to use that power – it has become an automatic reflex. He still believes that the end justifies the means and that his intentions are good, and we have only ever seen him using his powers against demons, thus saving lives and eliminating enemies…but how long before that instinctive, kneejerk reaction backfires on him? How many lines will he cross before he realises that he has gone too far, and will it be too late by then to find his way back?


The moment the demon has gone, Sam turns back to Pam, anxious and alarmed. She snorts out an un-amused laugh, because of course she can't die, not in this town, not at the moment. As proof, she shows Sam her wound, which is not bleeding. "Quit your worrying, Grumpy," she dismisses Sam's concern. "Why don't you make me a drink, huh?"

"You need a doctor!" Sam worriedly counters, but Pam won't hear of it, furiously telling Sam to make her that drink, instead.

This is one of the few scenes in this episode that doesn't quite sit right. Why wouldn't Pam allow Sam to get medical treatment for her, if there was any chance of saving her life? The implication is, I suppose, that she knows damn well it is a mortal wound and that even if Sam rushed her to hospital before the Reaper starts reaping again they would not be able to save her.

Street

Elsewhere, Dean is still wandering the streets trying to find his brother, looking tense and nervous about being out there on his own in the dark, relatively defenceless, with a whole horde of demons – Alistair – still out there somewhere. And with Sam nowhere to be found.

"You can't run, Dean," Alistair menacingly drawls, lurking around a corner just as Dean reaches it. The accent all the actors give him is annoying, perhaps, but renders the character instantly recognisable in any new body, and this one also makes him sound kinda snakelike, which seems fitting.

Dean stops dead, face to face with his dreaded nemesis, alone and defenceless.


"Not from me," Alistair gleefully continues, stepping toward Dean, who backs away instinctively. "I'm inside that angsty little noggin of yours."

I'm inside that angsty little noggin of yours. Hell's grand inquisitor, Alistair was the cause of immense suffering for Dean, both physical and psychological, a lifetime's worth of it. As I said earlier, the relationship between a torturer and his victim is an intense and twisted one. 'There is no forgetting,' Dean told Sam in Wishful Thinking. 'There's no making it better. Because it is right here. Forever.' Alistair knew exactly what he was doing down there, devising the perfect torture for Dean, one that continues to torment him even now.


All Dean's defiance has bled away and he has absolutely no comeback, not now, not for this demon, which spent so long taking him apart in every possible way. Alistair keeps on coming, smirking, and Dean keeps backing away…and then a lightning bolt crashes down on Alistair's head and he vanishes completely!

Dean is stunned. "What the hell?" he gasps.

"Guess again," says an even voice behind him and he spins to see Castiel, who hasn't been seen since the debacle with Anna in Heaven and Hell. Has he been avoiding, Dean, maybe disappointed with him? Or has he just not had any reason to make contact during the interim? With Castiel, it is impossible to tell.

"What just happened?" says Castiel. "You and Sam just saved a Seal. We captured Alistair. Dean, this was a victory."

Victory. Dean and Sam have saved a Seal – it is the first Seal we have known to be saved all season, in fact, after fifteen full episodes! At least thirty-four Seals have already been broken, so it is a minor victory, a battle won while the greater war is still being lost. But still a victory.

Dean's not feeling it, though. He looks astounded, mind racing with the implications. "Well, no thanks to you," he hisses at the angel, as indignant as in Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester at being left to struggle through alone when angelic assistance might have saved a lot of pain and effort.

Castiel narrows his eyes, which are intently focused on Dean, as always when the two are in the same place. Dean intrigues him so, a puzzle that he has never yet managed to solve. "What makes you say that?" he asks, that simple question laden with meaning. A little affronted, even, at the implication.


Dean puts two and two together. "You were here the whole time," he realises with great bitterness. "Well, thanks for your help with the rock salt!"

Castiel calmly states that the angels could not penetrate the script on the funeral home – anti-angel defences mounted by the demons, apparently, which is interesting. The two sides really are digging in, off-screen. "Why do you think I recruited you and Sam in the first place?" Castiel evenly enquires.

Dean smells that rat immediately. "You recruited us?"

It wasn't Bobby who called, Castiel explains, either to point the brothers toward the case in the first place or to tell Sam about the Seal.

Dean understands, and is furious. "If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?" he demands. From Dean's point of view, this is just another betrayal of trust by someone he had tentatively considered an ally, of sorts, undermining the fragile understanding he and Castiel had been establishing, in fits and starts. Yet another person supposedly on his side lying to him and manipulating him for his own ends, treating him like an idiot. Worse, this admission means that even Bobby's voice on the end of a telephone can no longer be trusted.

No doubt having anticipated such a reaction, Castiel defends himself, resolute in his conviction that he was right. "Because whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite."

From Castiel's perspective, his strategy made strong logical sense and proved remarkably effective. He is a soldier, first and foremost – a soldier fighting a desperate war. However much he has come to sympathise with Dean, his duty to the mission remains his top priority, and he has encountered too much fundamental difference of outlook and opinion with the human in the past not to have been cautious in his approach this time. The solution that he came up with was both practical and successful, the end justifying the means; it's all about the big picture. Dean has objected to his methods and openly defied his judgement in the past, and he was not prepared to risk something similar happening again here, or to take the time to find out, one way or the other, so he found a way around the problem.

It sounds reasonable. But on the flip side…isn't that more or less Sam's exact approach to young Cole earlier, lying to him because that made it easier to get the result he wanted than to invest time and effort in reasoning with the boy? In both cases the strategy made strong logical sense, when viewed in terms of the big picture, but both cases involved betraying the trust of the persons concerned, treating them as a mere means to an end rather than as individuals deserving of respect and/or aid in their own right.

Do the needs of the many always outweigh the needs of the one, or can the two be balanced? Does the end always justify the means? That depends whose perspective you approach the situation from – and how closely alternatives have been considered.

Dean has disagreed with Castiel's judgement in the past where human collateral damage was concerned – not wanting to smite an entire town in hopes of destroying a witch hiding somewhere within it, for example. In that instance, the town was saved but the Seal was lost. Big picture versus little picture. It has been clear for some time that the angels, coming from a heavenly perspective spanning millennia, are prepared to accept a level of collateral damage that Dean, from his very human perspective, considers wholly unacceptable and unjust. Viewing people as mere pawns to be sacrificed on a giant chessboard makes you no better than the enemy, he would argue, and if you are willing to kill innocents in order to win, what the hell are you even fighting for? Better even just one more day of life for those individuals than to knowingly sacrifice human life even in the pursuit of a greater good.

On this occasion, though, if Castiel had come to Dean and explained what was going on, the odds are good that he would have cooperated. After all, he has successfully resolved the case even without that insider information, remained committed to it even after he knew that the dreaded Alistair was involved and that saving the Reaper would cause death in this town to resume. Castiel chose not to trust his judgement on this matter, however, preferring to take the easy road by manipulating him from afar rather than debating face to face. Expedient, perhaps, but potentially damaging to the tentative relationship the two have developed, as well as to Dean's confidence and self-respect, while also eroding the angel's claim to the moral high ground.

Dean doesn't bother arguing because they have had that debate before and it gets them nowhere. "So what now, huh?" he snips. "People in this town, they're just going to start dying again?" Castiel says yes, but Dean is not satisfied with that answer. "These are good people," he objects. "Don't you think you could make a few exceptions?"

It could be argued that this is one reason Castiel lied about the case, that he anticipated Dean might object to loss of human life and was reluctant to have this conversation in advance of the mission, potentially jeopardising it. However, even without the angel's input, Dean knew in advance that saving the Reaper meant people would start dying again, and he still didn't hesitate to do what had to be done to save the Seal. So if that was part of Castiel's reasoning he was selling Dean short – maybe an example of how much he still has to learn, and potentially an ominous omen for the future. Castiel's apparent lack of faith must be disheartening for Dean, even if it is supported by previous disagreements. The angel pulled him out of hell for a reason, but also threatened to throw him back in if he stepped out of line, so every time they disagree must be a reminder of how fragile his salvation might be.

But Dean's question here isn't about the rights or wrongs of freeing a Reaper to resume its duty, or even about whether or not people in general deserve to die. This is about Dean's continued discomfort with his own situation. He alone, in all the world, has been chosen for a second chance at life, pulled out of hell itself, and he still does not know why. He knows that his salvation was conditional, although the terms have not yet been made clear, but the fundamental question still remains: why me? His encounter with Jenkins earlier really drove it home, hearing the man rationalising his miraculous survival as heaven-sent and then being confronted by the painful realisation that it was in fact a mere by-product of demonic plans and that none of the man's wistful hopes would save him when the Reaper started reaping again. If there really could be such a thing as a miracle for men like Jenkins, it would allow Dean the tiniest, tiniest grain of hope for himself.


"To everything there is a season," Castiel grimly quotes.

"You made an exception for me," Dean points out, still utterly unable to understand why that exception should be made for him, who he considers so undeserving, but not for anyone else. Because being rescued from hell feels like a reward, albeit for services not yet rendered, and he does not know what it means. His deepest, darkest suspicions must be that he was chosen for a sinister reason, but for as long as the reasoning behind it remains unknown he can cling to a glimmer of hope that maybe he is being given the opportunity to prove himself somehow, to earn that salvation, that his value might prove positive rather than negative…but if he was no longer unique, if an exception could be made for someone else, the pressure would be right off, and what a relief that would be.

There is a long pause, the camera focusing past Castiel and on Dean's face, filled with honest and hurt incomprehension. Finally Castiel turns to look at him again. "You're different," he states.

The normal rules don't really apply to us, Sam said earlier, and Dean rejected that statement outright. Once upon a time he revelled in his status as an outsider to society, but now the thought of being different is terrifying to him, all the more so each time it is reinforced.

With that, the angel vanishes amid a flutter of wings, leaving Dean to stew. But Tessa steps right into the spot Castiel just vacated, so that Dean doesn't have so much as a moment to absorb what he learned from that intense conversation. He is so distracted by the encounter that he doesn't see Tessa at first and startles when she calls to him. Smiling softly, she asks for his help.

Griffith house

The grieving Mrs Griffith sits weeping over Cole's baby book, with Cole standing nearby gazing miserably at her. He jumps when Tessa calls to him, and turns to see her standing behind him, Dean at her shoulder. She has changed from the blacks of her social interaction outfit into a white dress for the Reap, just as she did last time we met her.


Dean can't be too worried about Sam if he has taken this detour from his search for his brother. It's about priorities. Helping this little boy is more important right now. After all, Sam has already more than demonstrated his ability and willingness to take care of himself!

Cole immediately realises what they are here for. "Tell your brother thanks for nothing," he spits at Dean. Got Sam's measure immediately – the promise he made was completely empty and worthless.

Tessa gently prompts Cole to look at his mother, pointing out how unhappy she is. Cole miserably says that this is why he wants to stay with her, but Tessa explains that for as long as his mother can feel his presence she will be in pain, unable to let go and move past her grief. "Because you won't let go of her."

"Why won't anybody tell me what's on the other side?" Cole fearfully asks. Tessa suggests that maybe nobody wants to ruin the surprise, and Dean smiles to himself, able now to remember that she said something similar to him once, too. Cole immediately cries foul, fiercely pointing out that it isn't an answer.

"She won't answer you, Cole," says Dean. "Reapers never do."

No, they don't, it seems. Perhaps they don't even know – or care. The passage of each individual soul from one plane of existence to the next is their sole function and concern.

"But trust me," Dean continues. "Staying here is a whole lot worse than anything over there."


Damn, that hurts just as much as his conversation with Tessa earlier, emphasising again how deeply and bitterly he regrets having his life restored by John's deal, now with the intensely painful added regret of not having chosen to let go just that little bit sooner.

I'm not sure it would have made any difference, however, even if Dean had chosen to go with Tessa sooner, instead of arguing and hanging on long enough for John to make his deal. John had no way of knowing what was going on with his son in the precise moment he made the deal, after all – dying or already dead, it was all the same to him: unacceptable either way. Even if Dean had gone with Tessa and died before John had time to make the deal, he still would have gone ahead with it, and Dean's soul would still have been hauled back to his body. Whether Dean realises that or not, however, his sentiment now remains the same: staying is a whole lot worse than going. It is devastatingly depressing to contemplate, but tells us exactly where the character's mindset is at present.

"Why?" Cole wants to know.

"Because one day your family will be gone," Dean explains, simple and sincere and oh-so heartfelt, speaking from experience both past and present. "And there'll be nothing left here for you. It's okay to be scared –" Cole interrupts to sullenly protest that he isn't scared, all pre-teen bravado, but Dean is having none of it. "We're all scared. That's the big secret. We're all scared."


Simple words offering honesty rather than false comfort, showing enough respect for the boy to tell him the truth rather than patronising or insulting him with platitudes. That's all it takes to persuade him as to the right thing to do. It hasn't taken long, either – no longer, really, than it did for Sam to lie to him earlier. Once upon a time Sam might have taken a similar approach and tried to do what was best for the one as well as for the many, before his heart became so hardened and his mind so blinkered.

Cole stares into Dean's eyes for a moment, weighing up his words, and then tentatively asks if he is coming, hoping for company to support him on his journey into the unknown.

Dean smiles ruefully. "Oh, I'm sure I'll be there sooner than you think."

It isn't the first time Dean has expressed a belief that he will die young, again – he has been pretty consistent in that attitude for quite some time now.

Cole casts one last, long, worried glance back at his mother, and then, still fearful, steps forward into Tessa's embrace, glowing white as he fades away into the afterlife, whatever that is.

In the other room, Mrs Griffiths looks like she can feel the difference already.

Tessa turns back to Dean, who wearily asks her to look out for that boy, always thinking of others.

"Look out for yourself, Dean," Tessa tells him, and he wonders what she means. "I've been around death from the get-go," she says. "You know what I see most? Lies. He's in a better place. At least they're together now. You all lie to yourselves, Dean. 'Cause like you said, deep down, you're all scared. Stop lying to yourself, Dean."

Although he's been solemnly nodding along to the lecture till now, accepting the validity of the Reaper's wisdom, Dean is a little taken aback now, wondering what she means.


"The angels have something good in store for you?" Tessa shakes her head. "A second chance? Really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure, deep down, you know something nasty's coming down the road. Trust your instincts, Dean. There's no such thing as miracles."

Dean sets his jaw, grim. "What are you saying?"

But without another word, Tessa vanishes, leaving Dean alone and perturbed.

Stop lying to yourself. Trust your instincts. Those two statements point to the mess of contradictions spinning around inside Dean's head of late. On the one hand he is convinced that his life will end early and bloody, again, that he does not deserve anything good and will end up back in hell, and that the angels can't necessarily be trusted because they care only about the many and not about the one. That's his instinct. But he has also talked about his renewed life as being given a second chance and has expressed a wistful desire to believe in miracles. He knows that his rescue was conditional, but until that debt is called in he can comfort himself with the thought that it might be in some way benevolent, a constructive means of somehow earning his salvation, rather than something that will only destroy him all the more. That he won't be discarded when the task is complete. He wants desperately to hope for a better ending this time, that his life can someday be more than pain and loss and will not inevitably end up back in hell. That's the lie, Tessa is saying. It is an internal dichotomy Dean has been struggling with all season, swinging back and fore between the two positions, tentatively daring to hope and building up a fragile web of wishful thinking to keep himself going, while all the while being unable to really believe there can ever be such a thing as a happy ending.

But although the Reaper appears to be a cool and impartial advisor, wise and serene, we must query just how qualified she actually is to judge. She has admitted that she has no interest in anything but her work and she has displayed utter disinterest in the angel-demon war and forthcoming Apocalypse. No matter what happens in the world, her function remains the same. Sooner or later everyone dies, whether in war or at peace, and she and her kind shepherd then those souls on to the afterlife. What happens to those souls after that is not her concern.

Tessa might be right in her warning for Dean not to trust the angels to have his best interests at heart, but that does not necessarily mean that it is wrong for him to hope for a better future. Surely giving in to despair and losing all hope would be the most dangerous thing for him of all.


Once again, though, Dean has no time to digest the implications of the conversation, as Pamela's voice echoes in his ear, reciting the incantation to restore him to his body.

Motel

Wearily finishing the incantation, clutching at her stomach in pain, Pamela allows Sam to help her get settled on his bed to wait for Dean to wake up.

Pam seems to have been in pain from the moment she was stabbed, even though she couldn't die – but the guy who got shot in the heart felt no pain, so that's not very consistent!


Sam urgently suggests that all they have to do is talk to Tessa and all will be well. It's interesting that he refers to Tessa by name, although Pam shouldn't know who she is, since I doubt they've taken the time for an in-depth debrief of any kind. She could work it out from the context, and is psychic, of course, but still.

Sam is so earnest, so convinced he could persuade Tessa to "hold off Reaping until we get you better," but Pam knows better and informs him that the Reaper has already started up again. Her wound has started to bleed heavily, and she tosses back a mouthful or two of whisky from the flask Sam has given her by way of painkiller.

You know, up till this moment there was still a remote chance that Pam might have been saved, just maybe, if Sam had called an ambulance or taken her to hospital before the wound became active and started to bleed. That would have left Dean stranded in limbo, however, and if Pam had then died anyway there might have been no way to bring him back. Moreover, it is clear that Pam has insisted that Sam do nothing. Maybe she can feel that it is a mortal wound. Maybe she foresaw her own death, being a psychic, knows that there is nothing anyone can do – maybe that was the reason for her bad temper earlier, because she had foreseen something like this and knew that by helping the boys she was sealing her own doom. Still, it doesn't seem in character for her to just give up without a fight

On the other bed, Dean wakes up with a massive gasp, as if he hasn't been breathing all the time his body was comatose, and again I wonder how that works. It takes just a moment for him to see what is going on and he is alarmed, asks what happened.

He doesn't suggest calling for help though. Maybe he can see that it is a mortal wound. Maybe he's assuming that Sam has already called an ambulance and it just hasn't arrived in time, or that Sam has assessed the wound and declared it hopeless – who knows?

Sam asks where Tessa is, still holding onto the possibility that they can somehow persuade the Reaper to undo this. It is a vain hope, however. Dean doesn't even have to say it: Tessa is back on the clock and it is curtains for Pam. "Pamela, I'm so sorry," Sam murmurs, giving in to the inevitable. Pam blearily protests for him to stop, but he ploughs on, "You don't deserve this."


"Yeah, I don't," she bitterly agrees. "I told you I didn't want anything to do with this!" Talk about a guilt trip! Pamela might have given in to the inevitable without fighting for her life, but that doesn't mean she is going to go quietly. No, she's going to lash out with blame and reproach to the bitter end. It's a refreshingly realistic attitude, in some ways, but painful and unkind – neither of these boys needs any more guilt to weigh him down. "Do me a favour," Pam continues, half coughing and half sobbing the words. "Tell that bastard Bobby Singer to go to hell for ever introducing me to you two in the first place."

Dean rather lamely and helplessly falls back on trite altruism of the kind that Tessa was just talking about. "Take it easy, Pamela. If it's any consolation, you're going to a better place."

He means it, too. Earlier he asked Castiel to make a few exceptions by sparing lives that would otherwise inevitably be lost, because he can't cope with being singled out in the way that he has been. This statement for Pamela, however, stems from an entirely different set of issues and follows on from his conversations with Cole and Tessa: better to die when it is your time than to have your life unnaturally extended and have to face the devastating consequences. Staying here is a whole lot worse than anything over there.

"You're lying," Pam protests, and yes, this is one of the lies that Tessa mentioned earlier, but Dean isn't lying. He really means it. "But what the hell, right?" Pam gasps. "Everybody's got to go sometime, right? Come here," she beckons Sam, and Dean warily wonders to himself what that's all about.

Sam leans in close, probably expecting more commentary on his great ass, because Pam has always been a bit sleazy like that, but she has a very different confidence to share now. "I know what you did to that demon, Sam," she whispers, almost sobbing. "I can feel what's inside of you. If you think you have good intentions, think again."


'Ruby's just jerking your chain down the road. You know what it's paved with and you know where it's going,' Dean told Sam back in No Rest for the Wicked. Sam has been telling himself all season that he can get away with what he is doing because his intentions are good, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions. He thinks he knows what he is doing, but is deluding himself if he really thinks that purity of intention will protect him, allow him to remain himself while embracing his demonic legacy or spare him from the bitter consequences that are surely on the horizon. How pure can he even claim his intentions to be? He justifies his actions by the fact that he can save lives, and arrogantly believes he can prevent the Apocalypse…but it is increasingly clear that over and above such seemingly altruistic considerations he enjoys and revels in how it feels to wield such power.

At the end of the day, if Sam was really sure in his heart of hearts that he is making the right choice, he would not be hiding it from Dean, denying the truth even after his brother confronted him with it, deeply reluctant to hold his actions up against his brother's moral compass, knowing that they will be found wanting. It is the behaviour one might expect from an addict: rationalising his actions while hiding their extent, sneaking around, lying to cover his tracks, angry and defensive when challenged. That fact in itself belies any purity he might claim for his motives.

Sam's continued use of his demon-given powers is changing him, more and more as time goes by. He is becoming ever colder and harsher, arrogant and unfeeling. The normal rules don't apply to us, he told Dean – Sam, whose humanity was so important to him, now considers himself set apart from his fellow man. What he once considered a curse he embraces as a source of pride.

Pamela's history qualifies her, in a way, to offer this critique. She applied her psychic gift to a situation in which she was out of her depth, was over-confident in her belief that she could control what would happen, arrogantly chose to ignore all warnings, and paid the price accordingly. The parallels with Sam's situation are plain to see, although I doubt Sam will recognise that.

All hope is not yet lost. There is still time for Pamela's warning, and all other warnings, to make a difference. But the will has to be there. Sam has to be willing to take the warning on board and internalise it, has to be prepared to admit that he is wrong and to change – to stop. The chances of that happening any time soon, however, look pretty remote at this time.

Pamela starts coughing up blood, and moments later she is dead, leaving two deeply disturbed Winchester boys behind. More collateral damage, just another casualty left at the wayside of this war, the brothers' safety net of allies growing smaller and smaller all the time.


Dean worriedly wants to know what she said, but Sam can't tell him, of course he can't. He can't even look his brother in the eye.


Close on the brothers, troubled. They are sitting side by side, and yet have perhaps never been further apart. And that hurts, it is deeply unsettling to see them so divided, such tension between them, but it is working wonderfully for the show as it continues its slow march towards seemingly near-inevitable doom.

The episode ends with a tribute to the late Kim Manners, which is beautiful in its simplicity and sincerity.

March 2009

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