Supernatural 5.0 Good God, Y'All

"It's hard not to notice how different things are between you guys these days."

This is more like it.

In terms of basic plot structure this episode is highly reminiscent of Croatoan, since it similarly features a small town under siege, with once perfectly ordinary townsfolk turning on one another as a result of a supernatural influence of some kind. The production value of the episode is a lot stronger than Croatoan, however, the stillness and sense of isolation wonderfully atmospheric from the moment the brothers arrive in the deserted little town, very effectively creating a real sense of danger, while the tension of the siege atmosphere is equally impressive. Likewise, the character movement through the episode is superb, building consistently throughout until the heartbreaking yet deeply satisfying final scene is reached, for once developing naturally and fluidly out of what has come before rather than being tacked on at the end. Nice job, Show.

The Road So Far

Sam was a badass psychic who could kill demons with his mind. His eyes went demon-black as he killed Lilith. Alas, though, it transpired that Lilith was the final Seal, and killing her unlocked the door to Lucifer's cage and set him free.

A nifty little musical montage reminds us of Sam's downward spiral in season four, as he began drinking demon blood to boost his psychic powers and swiftly became addicted.

Castiel killed two of his fellow angels to help Dean and Sam escape their clutches.

Zachariah declared that Dean was 'the Michael sword' – which turned out to be a fanciful way of describing his apparent status as the Archangel Michael's intended vessel.

Way back in season three, Dean met a reclusive hunter by the name of Rufus Turner.

A demon-possessed Bobby tried to kill Dean, but managed to overpower the demon within just long enough to stab himself instead, thus killing the demon but resulting in his own permanent incapacity.

Castiel carved an Enochian sigil into Dean and Sam's ribs to hide them from all angels and demons.

Way, way back in season two, Dean and Sam met Ellen Harvelle, the widow of a hunter, and her headstrong daughter Jo, who wanted to become a hunter, much to Ellen's dismay.

At the end of season four, as his demon blood addiction and quest to destroy Lilith came to a head, Sam physically beat Dean down and then walked out on him.

"You chose a demon over your own brother," Dean sadly recalled. "I just don't think I can trust you."

Now

Looking small and frail and miserable, Bobby sits hunched over in a wheelchair in his hospital room, staring glumly out of the window, sunk deep in depression.

Sam stands in the doorway watching him, sombre and contemplative.

Dean wanders up holding an x-ray envelope and peers appraisingly into the room. "It's been, like, three days now," he observes. "We've got to cheer him up. Maybe I'll give him a back rub."


Inappropriate humour by way of emotional defence – that's very Dean. He may have changed in many ways over the past few seasons, but he is still essentially the same guy. Also, though, as glib as the actual suggestion may be, it is actually rather more pro-active than Sam just standing there.

Three days, Dean says. That gives us a timeline of sorts for this episode. Three days since Bobby's injury (or at least since he gave in to depression over his injury), which happened in the immediate aftermath of Lucifer's release. That means it is still less than a week since the dramatic events of the season four finale. Tensions and emotions are still running high, and it is important to bear that in mind in order to understand the various characters' actions and reactions. All their emotional wounds are wide open, fresh and raw and not even beginning to heal yet.

Sam rolls his eyes in weary protest against the weak humour and Dean sighs. "Well, what then?"

"Look," Sam quietly murmurs. "We might have to wrap our heads around the idea that Bobby might not just bounce back this time."

Ah, Sam. He sounds so much more like his old self already – but, you know, Bobby is sitting right there, and he might be crippled but he isn't deaf, so discussing him openly and within earshot probably isn't the most sensitive thing ever.

Also, I still wish Show would clarify exactly what caused Bobby's paralysis: Zachariah's interference or his own self-inflicted injuries.

Sam changes the subject, asking what's in the envelope Dean has in his hand. Me, I think the word 'x-ray' stamped across it is probably a clue, although I daresay Sam is looking for a little more detail than that.

Dean explains that he has "been down to radiology – got some glamour shots." He shows Sam his x-ray, which is, frankly, awesome: Castiel's Enochian sigil clearly visible, neatly etched into every one of his ribs, with additional symbols trailing down his sternum. "Let's just say the doctors are baffled," he snarks. I should just about think they are!


"Holy crap!" Sam exclaims, whereupon his brother points out that Sam, of course, has a matching set, since Castiel did the same thing to him.

It is perhaps telling that it was Dean who made the effort to get x-rays taken in order to find out exactly what his angelic ally had done to him, rather than Sam. Sam is still reeling, too shell-shocked by his guilt to really process clearly, while Dean has been in pro-active mode ever since Zachariah abducted him and locked him away in heaven's waiting room. Castiel might be an ally and the protection afforded by the Enochian sigil might be immeasurably valuable to the brothers, but carving it into their bodies without asking permission first was a fairly massive liberty to take – a violation. Dean has had other beings taking liberties with his body, blithely assuming that they have the right to do whatever the hell they want to him regardless of how he feels, too many times already. He was tortured in hell for the subjective equivalent of decades. Castiel branded him for life while dragging him back out of hell – and all his old scars were removed when he was resurrected, deeply personal evidence of his life history completely wiped out. And that was just last season.

Dean made no protest when Castiel carved that sigil into his chest, not that protesting would have made a difference anyway. He accepted it in the spirit with which it was meant: a practical defensive measure that will be of great benefit. But he still needed to see it with his own eyes, to know exactly what it was that had been done to him. Seeing, touching, actively experiencing – it is how Dean has always processed, and doing so here allows him to reclaim control over his own body.

Under normal circumstances, Sam relies on information gathering in order to process, craving knowledge because with knowledge comes power and with it control. In theory this should require him, too, to seek greater understanding of what Castiel did to him the other day in the name of protection. That it has evidently not occurred to him to do so speaks volumes for his hesitant and uncertain state of mind.

Sam's cell phone rings. That should be turned off in the hospital! He is befuddled in the extreme to find Castiel on the other end.

"Speak of the devil," remarks Dean. Somehow I don't think Castiel would appreciate that if he heard it!

Why did Castiel call Sam instead of Dean, we wonder? Maybe it was just that Dean had turned his phone off for the trip to radiology.

Confused, Sam replies to what was clearly a fairly terse question by explaining that they are in St Martin's Hospital…and Castiel ends the call immediately, leaving Sam hanging mid sentence, more bewildered than ever.

The brothers flick mildly irritated eye rolls at one another as, moments later, Castiel comes striding purposefully down the hallway to join them.

"Cell phone, Cas? Really?" Dean snarks. "Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?"

Just an episode ago Dean did not hesitate to declare Castiel a friend. It was a statement made as an obituary to a fallen comrade-in-arms, and it was easy, then, to overlook Castiel's shortcomings and focus instead on the fact that he had made the ultimate sacrifice in support of anti-Apocalyptic efforts and deserved to be honoured for it. It is a lot less easy, however, to deal with the reality of the newly restored angel back in the borrowed flesh, high-handed, enigmatic and infuriating as he can be. The cavalier way in which he carved those Enochian sigils into the brothers' ribs without so much as a word of request or upfront explanation was the perfect example. Therefore, although Dean trusts that Castiel is now well and truly on the same side as him and considers him an ally, he is unable to feel entirely comfortable around the angel, remaining off-balance throughout most of their interactions – and that definitely informs his attitude toward the angel in this episode, light-hearted enough here, but always with something of an edge.

"You're hidden from angels now. All angels," Castiel impatiently points out, thus very helpfully answering the question I asked as soon as he gave the brothers those Enochian sigils; he has very effectively hidden them from himself, as well as their opponents. "I won't be able to simply –"


"Enough foreplay," Bobby rather unexpectedly growls from over by the window, having been silently listening the whole time. "Get over here and lay your damn hands on." All three regard the back of his head with some astonishment. He then turns to look at them for the first time. "Get healing! Now!"

Bobby has not been speaking to the brothers for several days now, according to Dean. They are his family and therefore are on hand to bear the brunt of his misery, sunk in depression as he is over his injury. That he is breaking his silence now for Castiel is somewhat intriguing, since he has met the angel only once before, way back in Lazarus Rising, an encounter that lasted only seconds before Castiel rendered him unconscious in order to speak to Dean privately; he might know of him extremely well, based on reports from Dean and Sam, but doesn't know him personally. Yet he has no qualms whatsoever demanding that the angel grant him a fairly enormous favour, demanding healing as an entitlement rather than the gift it would actually be. He could at least say please!

I understand completely where Bobby is coming from – he was injured in the line of duty and is facing a terrifyingly uncertain future just as the Apocalypse breaks all around him; his depression and bitterness are entirely natural, and I love seeing it as much as I hurt for him, reminder as it is that Bobby, too, is only human. But it wasn't Castiel's fault he was injured and the angel doesn't owe him anything, so any healing that was given would be an act of compassion, and as such deserves to at least be asked for politely.

Bobby just isn't in any state of mind to see it that way.

Castiel sighs. "I can't."

Shocked and furious, Bobby turns the wheelchair so that he is facing the angel. "Say again," he growls in that tone of voice that usually means death.


Rather than point out that hey, a bit of courtesy might be nice, Castiel is filled with compassion for the hunter's situation and sounds both deeply sympathetic and apologetic as he explains his limitation. "I am cut off from heaven. Much of heaven's power. Certain things I can do. Certain things I can't."

I would if I could but I can't, he is saying, in effect. Hmm. That's an interesting concept to ponder – and nicely vague, too, by way of get-out clause for future writing. After all, he can still hop about from place to place in the blink of an eye, and he can reach into peoples' chests and carve mysterious symbols into their rib cages. He just can't heal Bobby's paralysis.

Then again, he claimed to be unable to heal Dean's injuries in On The Head Of A Pin, as well, and offered no explanation for this shortcoming on that occasion at all, even though Dean was at death's door at the time and we knew even then that the angels needed him alive. So…maybe Castiel can't heal Bobby for the reason he gives: he has been cut off from the main power source of heaven, and this has limited his abilities (although it must be pointed out that he hasn't even tried). Maybe healing was never really in Castiel's remit to begin with (although he managed to resurrect Dean in Lazarus Rising, even to the extent of removing all trace of injuries past).

Maybe it's just a plot device that we shouldn't examine too closely. Regardless of the how and why, the end result is that Bobby is left to live with the consequences of his actions, thus reinforcing the impact of the Apocalypse on a very personal level and driving home the gravitas of the situation all around. As convenient a plot device as it is, it is important that the Apocalypse is seen to have such consequences for our regular characters, so that its scale may be truly felt.

"You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap for the rest of my life?" Bobby demands, and the quaver in his voice betrays the terrible fear behind his belligerence.

Castiel says that he is sorry, sounding as apologetic as we have ever heard him. Unlike apparently every other angel in the heavens that we have met thus far, he cares about mankind, cares about Dean and therefore Dean's family by extension, and evidently really does regret not being able to help in this instance.


Bitterly disappointed, Bobby growls at him to shove it up his ass and turns his chair away again.

Dean looks at Sam and shrugs. "Well, at least he's talking now." With his back still turned to the room, Bobby promptly snarls that he heard that, and Dean fidgets like a naughty school kid caught in the act.

Castiel turns back to Dean. "I don't have much time. We need to talk." Dean says okay, so Castiel presses on. "Your plan. To kill Lucifer."

What plan? Last we heard he didn't have one. He announced his intention of trying to kill Lucifer, sure, but it really wasn't a plan, merely an objective.

"Yeah, you wanna help?" Dean shrugs, rather than point out the difference between a goal and a strategy.

"No," Castiel scowls. "It's foolish. It can't be done."

"Oh, well, thanks for the support," snips Dean, irritated by such pessimism.

"But I believe I have the solution," Castiel fervently declares, staring intently at Dean, as is his wont, while Sam stands off to one side, watching the angel closely – and Bobby, with his back still turned, is also listening hard. "There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the Apocalypse."

It is worth pointing out that Castiel has never once suggested that if Dean really wants to save the world and protect humanity he should give in to Zachariah and become Michael's host. This suggests that he has either decided to fully respect Dean's right to choose to retain his autonomy, along with sharing his mistrust of Zachariah – or perhaps that he knows something about Michael that Dean and the rest of us don't.

I would still like an explanation as to why the entire heavenly host can't just gang up on Lucifer without involving human vessels at all. I am having an extended logic glitch on that issue.

Castiel pauses for dramatic effect, until Sam eventually gives up and gives him his cue. "Who's that?" he asks.

Castiel switches his intense regard to Sam. "The one who resurrected me and put you on that aeroplane, the one who began everything," he declares – although, of course, this is still conjecture, since just because Castiel believes it doesn't mean he is right. He turns back to Dean, fervent and impassioned, to announce: "God. I'm going to find God."

Dean and Sam are taken aback, as well they should be.

Titles

Dean wastes no time slamming shut the door of Bobby's room before any passing doctors can overhear this discussion and have the lot of them dragged off on a psych hold. "God?" he incredulously repeats. Castiel says yes. "God?" Dean continues to disbelieve. Castiel says yes again, while Sam paces around looking gobsmacked.

"He isn't in heaven. He has to be somewhere," the angel is certain.

Dean can't get past his scepticism, and also can't resist quipping, "Try New Mexico, I hear he's on a tortilla!"

Castiel, bless his heart, ponders this suggestion quite seriously for a moment before earnestly protesting, "No, he's not on any flatbread."

Heh.

Watching his weak joke fly clean over the angel's head without registering, Dean shakes it off and then tries to make his objection a little clearer, not even trying to be tactful, because Castiel keeps wrong-footing him and the concept of God fills him with ire and he absolutely does not want to believe. "Listen, chuckles. Even if there is a God, he is either dead – and that's the generous theory –"

"He is out there, Dean," Castiel insists.

"Or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us," Dean angrily rants. "I mean, look around you, man – the world is in the toilet! We are literally at the end of days here, and he is off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut, all right?"


Dean's determinedly maintained agnosticism in the face of all the evidence he has seen is born of bitter anger. In much the same way that Bobby, confronted by a devastating injury, expected angelic intervention to fix things for him and reacted angrily when a miracle was not forthcoming, Dean, after all the horror and atrocity he has both witnessed and experienced, believes that a responsible divinity should intervene to repair the damage caused by his fallible creations, and since no such intervention appears to be forthcoming reacts with bitter recrimination and resentment. He does not want to believe in a God who allows bad things to happen to good people, and so, feeling hurt, confused and abandoned, closes his mind to all other possibilities.

Of course, it is worth bearing in mind that it would be unlikely for anyone to get this angry at a being they genuinely don't believe in at all.

Enraged by such blasphemy, Castiel rounds furiously on Dean. "Enough! This is not a theological issue. It's strategic. With God's help we can win."

"It's a pipe dream, Cas," Dean insists.

Fuming, Castiel gets right up in Dean's face. "I killed two angels this week," he hisses. "Those were my brothers. I am hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you. And you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world. And I lost everything. For nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself."

Yikes.


Okay, let us look at where this rant is coming from. Since having his life miraculously restored, Castiel has appeared to be full of confidence and determination, blazing with faith and righteousness…but all of that is merely surface impression. Scratch that surface and you find a being that, after millennia of unquestioning obedience to a higher order, now finds himself in the absolute freefall of self-determination for the very first time, everything of which he was once certain now cast into doubt. He has broken rank with heaven, the only yardstick for righteousness he has ever known, and burned all his bridges behind him quite comprehensively, and he made that decision based on the desperate hope that the Apocalypse could be prevented at the eleventh hour – only for that hope to immediately fail, leaving him completely stranded. Without the faintest idea where to go from here, and with no chain of command to turn to for guidance, he is beyond terrified. With Dean's angry atheism hitting such a raw nerve, it is no wonder the angel is lashing out.

On the other hand, though, however frightened and confused he might be, I feel it is completely wrong of him to heap all the blame for his situation upon Dean's head, without so much as a nod of acknowledgement for his own culpability. Dean never promised that he would succeed, he asked only for the opportunity to try, and that he failed was at least in part down to Castiel himself. It is completely unreasonable for Castiel to now be angry with Dean for being unable to pull off a miracle when Castiel himself had helped stack the odds against him so enormously in the first place. He actively sabotaged Dean's efforts at saving his brother by letting Sam out of the panic room, withheld vital information about the final Seal until it was too late to do anything about it, and aided and abetted Dean's imprisonment in Zachariah's green room until again it was effectively too late to make any difference. He has actively manipulated and deceived from a position of greater power and knowledge and most certainly is no innocent victim in all this.

The fact that Zachariah could have used any angel for some of these errands is immaterial, as the point remains that Castiel, as an individual, had the power to change the outcome by making different choices along the way, and therefore is every bit as culpable as either of the Winchester brothers, maybe even more so, because he was the only one out of the three of them who had full information upon which to base his decisions. You and your brother destroyed the world, he tells Dean here, a breathtakingly audacious statement to make, placing full responsibility upon their shoulders, as if they did it on purpose, as if no one else played any part in it whatsoever. Yet Dean didn't even know that such a thing as Seals existed when he broke under the most horrific torture imaginable in hell. Sam completely believed that killing Lilith would prevent the Apocalypse, rather than facilitate it. But Castiel knew that what he was doing would contribute to Lucifer's release and he did it anyway. He had good reason for every choice that he either made or shied away from, perhaps, but then again so did the brothers, and therefore if he is going to hold them so very accountable, then not applying the same standard to himself makes him something of a hypocrite.

Castiel's claim here that he did it all for Dean, specifically and personally, is also interesting, since…yes, he rebelled because Dean asked him to, but in Lucifer Rising it seemed fairly apparent that he found Dean's argument compelling and that was why he made the decision to act, because he believed that saving the world was the right thing to do, rather than simply as a personal favour for Dean himself. This again stands as further evidence of Castiel's continued inability to take responsibility for his actions and how afraid he still is of self-determination. It is very consistent characterisation. He really is out there on his own now, no going back, and is struggling badly to come to terms with having made that decision, now that reality has set in. And so he denies his own responsibility by placing it all on Dean. You told me to do this and so I did it because of you, rather than admit that he weighed up the evidence himself and made an active choice according to the dictates of his own conscience.

Castiel has lost everything and is both devastated and terrified, I understand and sympathise. But the reason he lost everything was not because Dean failed him by being unable to single-handedly pull off a miracle at the eleventh hour, but because Castiel himself acted against his own conscience and better knowledge for too long and only decided to do the right thing too late to affect the final outcome. It is hard for him to face up to his personal responsibility, never having had to face the consequences of self-determination and failure before. But that is precisely why it is so important to me that he does face up to and openly confess his personal culpability, preferably sooner rather than later. Accepting and acknowledging his own role in the Apocalypse instead of placing all the blame on others is a vital step in the character's development, without which I will find it difficult to fully engage with him – not to mention that I believe it is important to his developing relationship with the brothers that he tell the truth, to himself as well as to them, instead of approaching them from a false position of self-righteousness as he currently is.

Bottom line, then, the confrontation between Dean and Castiel in this scene is about Dean's fear and anger and Castiel's fear and anger clashing, since neither has any truly adequate outlet for his emotional turmoil, so instead they take it out on one another.

To his credit, Dean retains eye contact throughout Castiel's guilt-tripping tirade and does not argue, accepting that he has crossed a line and pressed a button that he should not have pressed – and willing to bear the burden of responsibility without complaint or excuse. Castiel could learn from that example, I feel.


"You didn't drop in just to tear us a new hole," Bobby dryly interjects, and I love him for saying 'us' there, a statement of solidarity. "What is it you want?"

Castiel doesn't take his eyes off Dean, still right up in his face. "I did come for something," he says. "An amulet."

Looking curious, Bobby shrewdly asks what kind, suddenly taking an active interest now that he has been given something to think about other than his own incapacity. And with the tension thus successfully broken, Dean is able now to step back away from the angel's wrath and breathe again, having faced Castiel down throughout his rant without flinching.

"Very rare, very powerful," Castiel explains, turning his attention to Bobby. "It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him."

"Like…God EMF?" Sam disbelieves.

"Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got nothing like that," Bobby dismisses, automatically assuming that it was he Castiel was expecting to provide such an artefact.

"I know. You don't," Castiel agrees, refocusing his attention on Dean – or, more precisely, on Dean's chest, the necklace thereon.

Dean follows the line of Castiel's vision to take in his amulet: the one we almost never see him without, the one Sam gave him for Christmas one year when they were just children, claiming that Bobby had told him it was 'real special'. I'll bet Bobby never knew just how special, however!

It is a little bit of a retcon, this. Fans have speculated for years as to the possible significance of Dean's amulet, and show creator Eric Kripke always stated that it was significant, but somehow I doubt that this is what he meant, way back at the beginning – after all, the whole angel and God storyline only began to be born at the beginning of season four! The sentimental significance of the amulet was established back in season three's A Very Supernatural Christmas, and I was satisfied with that. Although this new, retconned mytharc significance on top of the sentimental feels rather contrived, I can live with it, especially since in this scene it is used for more sentimental symbolism anyway, but I sincerely hope the payoff is eventually worth it!

"What, this?" frowns Dean, taken aback.


"May I borrow it?" Castiel politely asks.

"No!" Dean immediately, indignantly denies: an instinctive gut reaction. Heh! I love it.

"Dean. Give it to me," Castiel insists, rather less politely.

Dean tries to argue, but sees how serious Castiel is and knows that he can't deny the request, since the fate of the entire world is at stake and all. His reluctance to part with the amulet, however, remains intense, even as he takes it off, murmuring, "All right, I guess."

Dean has never before parted with that amulet by choice; it has only ever been taken from him by force and he always makes sure to reclaim it again later – it is incredibly special to him, simply because it was a gift from Sam, symbolic of the love and trust of their fraternal relationship. So that he should be made to part with it voluntarily, just at a time when his relationship with Sam is falling apart…wow, that's painful symbolism!

Dean holds onto the amulet for a moment or two longer, eyeing it wistfully, his body language and reluctant posture speaking volumes for how very much he does not want to hand it over. Castiel holds out a hand, and Dean goes to give the amulet to him, but then pulls it back to deliver a heartfelt condition first. "Don't lose it!"


Without agreeing to this request or promising to be careful, Castiel takes the amulet, and Dean is visibly bereft. "Great. Now I feel naked," he grumbles.

"I'll be in touch," says Castiel, and with that he is gone.

"When you find God, tell him to send legs," Bobby bellows at the empty space where the angel was standing just seconds earlier, while the brothers roll their eyes and sigh their disgruntlement.

Hmmm – this God-hunt is an interesting twist, and it is fairly brave for the show to actually be going there. It is very notable, however, that Show is becoming more and more heavily reliant on overtly Judeo-Christian mythology and iconography, or at least their own variations thereof, and a) as a Christian this still makes me a little nervous and uncomfortable, and b) I miss the days when a much wider variety of religious beliefs were drawn upon. Heck, I miss the variety of standalone storylines Show used to have, period. Not that the current mytharc-heavy focus isn't compelling, just rather narrow. So, it'll be interesting to see where this storyline leads.

Riverpass, Colorado

The reclusive hunter Rufus Turner appears to be caught up in the middle of an all out war in what appears to otherwise be a perfectly normal small town. After shooting grimly at an unknown target, he reaches down to drag a young man with an injured leg behind a nearby car and then strips off a belt for use as a makeshift tourniquet for the wound, much to the kid's agony. Then, leaving the kid to collapse once more, he pulls out a chunky satellite phone of some kind and makes a call – on speed dial, let us note.

St Martin's Hospital

Bobby's cell phone rings. It is Rufus, but Bobby can barely hear him.

"I need a little help. Seems I'm up to my ass in demons," Rufus shouts. "This whole damn town's infested!"

Bobby manages to make out the gist of this and asks where Rufus is. By dint of much shouting over the static connection, they manage to establish that Rufus is in Riverpass, Colorado. Then Rufus sees more demons approaching and drops the phone to shoot at them.


Bobby hears shots firing before the line goes dead, and is deeply perturbed, turns to Dean and Sam in alarm.

Being so very laid up, of course, Bobby is completely incapable of responding personally to the SOS. Lucky he has his two surrogate sons on hand to deputise!


Riverpass, Colorado. Day

The Impala zooms into town…

…at least, it zooms as close to town as is possible, given that the bridge leading into town rather unexpectedly drops away into the river below, so that the approaching Impala is forced to first slow down and then halt altogether.

Dean drives right up to the broken edge of the bridge and the brothers disembark to take a closer look at the wreck – and presumably the tangled, twisted mess of steel and concrete is CGI, rather than an actual devastated bridge, but the effect is so seamlessly achieved you'd never know the difference, so kudos to the special effects team. The cinematography of this scene really is gorgeous.


"This is the only road in or out," Dean observes.

Again with a town having only one road in or out – what's up with that? Every small town in American can't really be an island. At the very least there must surely be other bridges across this river, even if there is a large detour to reach them.

Sam pulls his cellphone out and waves it around experimentally. "No signal," he sighs.

"Rufus was right. Demons have got this place locked down," Dean observes…except, you know, that Rufus so did not say that.

"Looks like we're hiking in," Sam concludes, and Dean wrinkles his nose in distaste.

"The hits just keep on coming," he grumbles, turning back to the Impala to grab his gear.

And then, as the camera pulls back for a rather visually stunning shot of the ruined bridge, Norman Greenbaum's version of 'Spirit in the Sky' kicks in on the soundtrack and continues as the shot cross-fades to the brothers making their way into town on foot, and lo! it is fabulous.


The town is absolutely deserted, with evidence of chaos and violence just about everywhere the brothers look – an overturned car here, an abandoned car there, and blood all over the place. The brothers investigate very cautiously – and it is worth noting that despite all their personal problems they still operate very efficiently as a team, their non-verbal communication remaining as effective as ever as they proceed in search of either survivors or clues as to what may be going on here.

Dean silently notes the presence of a sporting goods store along the main drag before he and Sam take turns to warily examine the interior either side of a car that's flipped on its back and smoking ominously in the middle of the road. There is not so much as a single living soul anywhere in sight, although evidence of inhabitation lies scattered all around – garden sprinklers continuing to water immaculately mown lawns, littered with children's toys. Whatever hit this town, it hit hard and it hit fast.


The brothers silently take in the scene as they continue their search. Up ahead, they approach a sedan, hastily abandoned with doors still ajar – and 'Spirit in the Sky' very neatly flips diegetic on the car radio until Sam, tiring of the musical accompaniment, reaches in to turn the engine off, keeping his gun trained on the car's completely empty interior the whole time, as if afraid the radio might turn on him or something!

The camera pulls back for a very nifty aerial view of the brothers proceeding through town – this also providing us with a nice view of a very familiar church, one that has appeared a couple of times, I believe, most notably way back in season one's Dead In The Water; either that or one remarkably like it.

Dean notices and admires a bright cherry red mustang parked randomly along the street as he passes.


Further along, the brothers pause to examine yet another hastily abandoned vehicle, this one with its windshield caved in, a mangled pushchair beneath a front wheel – very nasty detail that – and a sizeable pool of blood staining the road alongside it.

There is evidence of chaos and carnage throughout town – but not a corpse in sight.

The ever-recognisable click of a handgun being cocked ready to fire sends both brothers whirling around in alarm…to see Ellen Harvelle, of all people, standing nearby levelling said handgun right at them.


Yay! I have wanted to see or at least hear of Ellen again for the longest time now. It has been a source of regret since the start of season three that she was dropped so very completely, without so much as a mention of her, after she had been such a valuable contact for the brothers throughout season two. It weakened the continuity of the show and depth of its universe to lose her so abruptly and for no internal reason – even just name-dropping her as a contact once in a while would have sufficed, with the actress unavailable. Equally, I do feel that it is important that the brothers retain human contacts and companions in their lives, perhaps especially now as recurring supernatural characters are increasingly so noticeably, while I have also missed the variety that various encounters with the hunting community have brought to the show in the past. So I am very glad to see Ellen again now.

The brothers gape at Ellen in astonishment. She greets them evenly. They continue to gape. Then, unhurried, she lowers the gun and approaches, as Dean urgently asks what the heck is going on here. The words are barely out of his mouth before Ellen flings a measure of holy water in his face and levels her gun at him again.

Dean blinks. Sam is startled. Ellen waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Instead, exasperated but unflustered, Dean calmly assures her that, "We're us."

Ellen regards him for a moment longer, then drops the gun and silently leads the way over to that little white church nearby. Shaking their heads in disbelief and bemusement, the brothers follow.

So far so good…except, you know, that really speaking the brothers should reciprocate Ellen's defensive measures, just in case!

Church

Inside, the church is all kitted out for war, the doorway protected by salt lines and a hefty devil's trap.

As soon as all three are inside and the door is safely closed behind them, Ellen's stony façade crumbles. "Real glad to see you boys," she quavers, flinging her arms around Dean for a massive hug…which she promptly follows up with a slap to the face!


While Sam silently reacts in the background – Sam does a lot of silent reacting in this scene – Ellen proceeds to vent a little pent up anger and frustration. "The can of whup-ass I ought to open on you – you can't pick up a phone?" she rants. "What are you, allergic to giving me peace of mind? I've got to find out that you're alive from Rufus?"

Although the tirade is aimed generally at both brothers, it is meant specifically for Dean, since he has been dead since the last time she saw him. So, if the brothers haven't been in touch with her since Dean's return, being preoccupied with other concerns, that would explain her absence last season – but doesn't explain why contact with her was lost in season three, for no good reason. Besides, it's a two way street – she could also have picked up the phone to touch base with them!

Also, if it was Rufus who told Ellen about Dean's resurrection, that suggests that she hasn't been in contact with Bobby, either, which is rather more curious, since Bobby should surely have had no hesitation in passing on the news and was considered a good enough friend that Ellen went straight to him after destruction of the Roadhouse – and it isn't as if any of the trio has made the slightest attempt at keeping Dean's resurrection secret. Clearly, however, both Ellen and Rufus knew of Dean's death, and clearly Rufus knew of his resurrection to pass the news on to Ellen. So I am now picturing Bobby trying to pick his way through the absolute minefield that particular conversation must have been!

It is actually rather fascinating to consider how the hunting community at large might have reacted to the news that one of their number had been raised from the dead after four months in his grave – you'd think such an intensely paranoid bunch would have found that kind of thing deeply suspicious! It is also fascinating to ponder what the larger hunting community may or may not know all around, in fact. We know that Bobby sought advice from his contacts upon first learning that an angel was responsible for Dean's resurrection, so just how all that has since been explained is anyone's guess. It has been implied that Rufus, at least, has been smart enough to put the evidence together, recognising the breaking of the final Seals as signs of the Apocalypse. Has he drawn the connection between Dean's miraculous, angelic-induced return from the grave and the dawn of the Apocalypse? Does he wonder that it means and why? How much has Bobby told him? And how much has he passed on to other hunters?

From the context of this episode, it seems clear that the hunting community knows something of what is going on – knows at least that they appear to be living in the end of days – but that they do not know everything about what has happened, at least where the Winchester brothers and their deeply personal connection to the Apocalypse is concerned. That's very interesting – and it is especially interesting to ponder how the hunting community at large might react if and when the truth comes out, especially bearing in mind that Gordon Walker has already planted seeds of doubt regarding Sam's humanity.

Instead of the smartass deflection he might once have employed at this point, Dean simply offers a solemn apology.

"Yeah, you'd better be," Ellen fumes, in tones that will brook no dissent. "You'd better put me on speed dial, kid."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean gravely agrees.


Ellen looks as if she would dearly love to say more, to really drive her point home, but she is holding Dean's eyes, which are completely serious, not so much as a hint of his brash, cocky former self in evidence at this minute. She can see the change in him only too clearly – she knows where he has been, but there is too much that she doesn't know, too much that isn't her place to question. Her expression softens, and instead of chastising either brother any further, she turns to lead them down the stairs.

Behind her, Dean and Sam lift their eyebrows at one another in half-cowed, half-amused and overall hilarious 'the hell?' reaction to the tirade. Heh. Maternal authority is not something that either is the slightest bit familiar with.

As they head on downstairs, Dean asks what's going on. "More than I can handle alone," Ellen very honestly but rather vaguely admits, so Sam asks how many demons there are. "Pretty much the whole town," she explains. "Minus the dead people and these guys." She gestures at the door they are in front of, and then turns back to the boys with sombre, worried eyes. "So. This is it, right? End times?"

The brothers look at one another and fidget for a moment before Sam admits that yes, it seems like it. Well, it more than seems like it, he knows damn well that it absolutely is, but what else can he say? There's not much Ellen can say in response. She just nods that this was pretty much what she thought and then turns to knock at the door. "It's me."

Someone peers cautiously through a peephole before opening the door to allow entry.

Ellen leads the brothers into a large room containing a little under a dozen extremely scared looking people, including a reverend, a couple of pregnant young newlyweds and an edgy-looking young man holding a gun. Refugees of a war they cannot begin to understand.

"This is Sam and Dean. They're hunters. Here to help," Ellen announces.


"You guys hip to this whole demon thing?" Gun Guy asks.

"Yeah? You?" Dean tosses back at him, mildly surprised, since the average case tends not to involve innocents who actually know or understand what is going on.

"My wife's eyes turned black. She came at me with a brick," murmurs another man we will later learn is called Roger, who is sitting at the table looking lost and distressed. "Kind of makes you embrace the paranormal."

The brothers take in the implications of all this, then turn to Ellen. "All right. Catch us up," Dean asks.

Ellen doubts she really knows much more than the brothers. "Rufus called, said he was in town investigating omens. All of a sudden the whole town was possessed. Me and Jo were nearby –"

"You were hunting with Jo?" Dean disbelieves, and who can blame him given that mother and daughter were barely even speaking last time he spoke to either of them.

"Yeah, for a while now," says Ellen, offering no more explanation than that. And there is no reason she should, this being neither the time nor the place for storytelling, but just this sparse detail paints enough of a picture for our imaginations to fill in, which is how hers and Jo's story has always been told. She concludes that when they got here, the place was pretty much as Dean and Sam have seen – they couldn't find Rufus, and then they got separated. Ellen was out looking for her when she ran into the brothers.

Ellen looks almost disappointed to have found the brothers instead of her daughter, understandably enough. Although she is mostly succeeding in keeping a tight lid on her emotional turmoil, she must really be going through her own very personal hell here.

Also…it's interesting to hear that Rufus called on the Harvelles to assist with the suspicious circumstances in town. Why those two specifically, I wonder, out of the whole spider's web network of hunters out there – it is interesting to ponder that web of overlapping and interwoven alliances and contacts, who knows who, how and why, who turns to who in time of trouble, who keeps tabs on where others are at any given time, etc.

It is also interesting to ponder Rufus's return to active duty as a hunter. When we first heard of him, back in season three's Time Is On My Side, he was pretty much retired and lived mostly as a hermit, dabbling in a little selling on the side; Bobby hadn't seen him in 15 years, and barely even maintained contact with him. Last season, however, it became apparent from the mention of his name once or twice – notably in When The Levee Breaks – that Rufus was keeping a sharp eye on escalating Apocalyptic omens and was pursuing contact with Bobby on the subject. Now, it seems, in the face of full-blown Apocalypse he has shrugged off his hermitage and is getting back out there on the field of active duty, with Bobby on speed dial, even.

"Don't worry, we'll find her," Dean immediately, gravely promises, because he may have changed in some respects, but not in this one – that was classic Dean.

"Anyway, these people cannot just sit here. We've got to get them out, now," Sam interjects. Compassionate yet practical – that is very Sam.

However, Ellen explains that it isn't that easy. "I've been trying. We already made a run for it once." Sam asks what happened. "There used to be twenty of us," she baldly replies.

Twenty. And there are now less than a dozen. Says it all.

I'm still wondering why there are no corpses littering the streets, given the reported carnage, however. Has someone taken time out from the crisis to be civic-minded enough to get them all tidied away someplace?

Dean gathers his resolve and points out that there are three of them now, but Ellen quavers that he doesn't know what it's like out there, with demons everywhere, that they won't be able to cover everyone. She is holding up well, but is in way over her head here and she knows it. She is not an experienced hunter, for all her familiarity with their world, having existed on the fringes of it for more than 20 years at the Roadhouse without much in the way of active participation. She has taken up active hunting because of Jo and because she had nothing else left, with the Roadhouse gone, and this situation here is most likely like nothing she has faced since the devil's gate opened in Wyoming – or ever wanted to face again. She is not backing down and she is not running away, but she is very afraid and unsure of herself, although trying not to let it show. Her relief at having the brothers here to share the responsibility is palpable.

"What if we get everyone guns?" Sam suggests.

"What, you're going to arm up Baby Bump over here?" Dean disbelieves, gesturing toward the pregnant woman.

"More salt we can fire at once, more demons we can keep away," Sam quite correctly points out. His confidence might be at its lowest ebb, but he is still thinking clearly and realistically. Arming civilians is not ideal, but in a crisis you do what you must to survive and to enable those in your charge to survive.

Dean runs his eyes over the frightened people in the room and concedes the point, remembering that they passed a sporting store on their way into town and suggesting they could pick up a supply of guns there. Sam tells Ellen to stay and watch the group while he and Dean go out to gather supplies, and Ellen promptly starts to argue, but Sam assures her that if Jo and Rufus are out there, he and Dean will bring them back.

It occurs to me that Sam has never met Rufus, so I wonder how much he knows about him.

Gun Guy unlocks the door to let the brothers out and then secures it again behind them.

Dean hesitates at the foot of the stairs, however, thinking fast. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. Why don't I just go?" he proposes. Sam blinks bemusedly at the idea of his brother going out there alone, but Dean pushes his suggestion, trying hard to make it sound reasonable. "Someone's got to stay here and start giving 'em Shotgun 101."


"Yeah. Ellen," Sam points out, heading for the stairs.

Dean gets in his way to hold him up again. "It's going to go a lot faster if you stay here, okay?"

"While you go get guns and salt and look for Jo and Rufus? It's stupid," Sam scathingly protests. Dean insists that he can handle it, and Sam suddenly suspects what this is likely about and bristles. "You don't want me going out there." Dean protests that he didn't say that, but Sam elaborates on his point, "Around demons." Rather than press the issue, Dean repeats that he didn't say that, so Sam tersely snips, "Fine. Then let's go."

I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting; I just don't think I can trust you, Dean admitted to his brother at the end of Sympathy for the Devil. Here, just a few no doubt tense and awkward days later, on their first case since Lucifer's rise, we are beginning to see what that means in practice. Dean is anxious at the prospect of his brother putting himself in temptation's way again so soon, his knee-jerk instinct being that the thought of Sam on his own in the vicinity of demons just a scant few days after coming off demon blood is alarming, but is also reluctant to admit that concern aloud for fear of Sam's reaction, torn between being afraid to trust Sam and afraid not to trust him, unsure how best to juggle his brother and the situation. Sam meanwhile, hypersensitive and uneasy within himself, reads judgement and mistrust in his brother's slightest difference of opinion with him, and although that mistrust has been well and truly earned, Sam having no one to blame for it but himself, his knee-jerk reaction is anger and defensiveness.

Passive-aggression versus open aggression, each of them reacting rather than reflecting, and the result is conflict in which one must win and the other lose – in this instance, Dean is forced to back down and Sam gets his way – rather than a negotiation that stands any chance of achieving a win-win outcome in which both feel that their concerns have been heard and understood. More than anything, this comes across as a continuation of the negative behavioural patterns they have fallen into, last season in particular, evidence of how far they still have to go before the damage stands any chance of being repaired.

Street

Outside, the same conflict arises again for a second round, with exactly the same outcome. Sam proposes that he'll go get the salt while Dean gets the guns, but Dean immediately argues that they should go together. Sam seethes that the store is right there. "Can we at least do this like professionals?" he snaps.


Sam's irritation and impatience with Dean's perceived lack of trust is interesting to consider. He has said his apologies and meant them absolutely sincerely, is only too willing to admit his fault where the demon blood addiction, breaking that final Seal and allowing Ruby to lead him astray are concerned. We saw how hard it hit him at the end of the last episode to hear just how great an impact his actions have had on his brother, as it appeared to sink in for the first time just how badly he had hurt Dean, he was desperate to make amends and devastated to hear Dean admitting that he was struggling to forgive and forget. Yet here, in the very first case the brothers have worked together since the breaking of the final Seal, we see that accepting his responsibility in theory and living with the consequences in practice are not quite the same thing, as Dean's inability to trust his brother again so soon after such an immense betrayal is already grating on Sam, and as soon as this mistrust appears to become evident as something that actively affects their working relationship Sam reacts to it with anger instead of contrition. It no doubt feels as if he is having his nose rubbed in his error, which is an incredibly uncomfortable position to be in. He brought it on himself, however, and Dean cannot be blamed for struggling to move past it all so soon, and therefore I find Sam's annoyance and impatience rather ungracious.

I think…Sam was expecting to be blamed and condemned openly and severely for his role in bringing about the Apocalypse; he had steeled himself for such a reaction, and was somewhat blindsided when it failed to manifest as such. Dean's mistrust, however, is much harder for him to bear: more personal and specific, earned in ways that I don't feel Sam has yet even begun to face up to. His reaction against it is all the more vehement because he cannot actually deny the validity of it, and I really can appreciate the difficulty of his situation – however it would be nice to see him accepting these earned consequences of his actions with a little more grace, as a sign that he has truly learned from his past mistakes and is maturing as a result.

Sam stalks off to the local mini-mart, leaving Dean to worriedly watch him go, and I cannot help but remember the point I made in the recap for Sympathy for the Devil, after Sam left the brothers' motel room on an unknown errand but returned having constructed hex bags to Ruby's design, with Dean not having known he was going to do it. The point is that even now Dean cannot be entirely sure when Sam goes off alone that he will actually do what he said he was going to do, and after the extent to which Sam broke faith with him last season…I think he wants to trust, he really does. But he can't, because that trust was just too badly eroded by Sam's lies last season – which for Dean was a matter of mere days ago, let us remember.

And really, the trouble here is that they are both right, in a way. Sam is right that it might be counter-productive to reduce their efficiency by overcompensating for his addiction now that he has seen the error of his ways – although it really would not hurt him to acknowledge the validity of his brother's concerns, or at the very least show a little grace about it – and Dean is right that Sam potentially exposing himself to demons and demon blood without backup within a few short days of coming off the stuff might not be the wisest idea. Both, however, are too raw and hurt for compromise to be possible.

Store

In the mini-mart, Sam carefully loads up a carrier bag with cartons of rock salt. Hearing the bell above the door chime, he cautiously peers over the shelf to see a pair of teenager boys with black eyes enter the store, wielding baseball bats.

Sam crouches behind the shelf, keeping a careful eye on the apparently demon-possessed boys in the security mirror, and silently curses himself for having tucked his gun away on a nearby shelf, atop a bunch of tin cans, instead of keeping it within easy reach – he really should know better than that!

One of the boys comes to the end of Sam's aisle and begins to stuff bottled water into a backpack while Sam, behind him, attempts to reach for his gun without drawing attention to himself. Inevitably, however, he accidentally knocks over a couple of tins, alerting the boy to his presence.

Eyes shining demon black, the boy turns and sees Sam and a desperate fight for life begins. Turns out, however, that Sam still sucks at the old hand-to-hand, so after knocking one another around a bit, the boy manages to get Sam by the throat…although it's a bit of a stretch. Sam promptly starts to grunt out the words of an old-school Latin exorcism. Aww, it's been a while since we saw him doing that! He also attempts to get the lid off the salt canister in his hand, but the boy kicks it away.

All attempts at non-lethal defensive measures thus thwarted, Sam gets a hand free, pulls the demon-killing knife out of his belt, and stabs the boy with it.

Hang on a second. If the demon-killing knife is in Sam's possession, that means that Dean is both alone and effectively defenceless in a town they believe to be full of demons – and of the two of them, Dean is the one the demons are actively seeking to kill. So really, splitting up wasn't the most sensible idea after all. As it transpires, Dean accomplishes his errand without encountering any demonically enhanced townsfolk, and it eventually turns out that there aren't any actual demons in town anyway, but the brothers had no way of knowing or predicting any of that up front. They were both so focused on Sam that they forgot to weigh up any other pros and cons of the situation in general. Working together would have delayed them no longer than a few minutes, which would hardly make much difference in the grand scheme of things, and might actually have been safer all around, in fact, but between them both they turned it into a huge issue of trust or lack thereof and splintered their partnership unnecessarily.

Anyway. The apparently demon-possessed boy collapses to the ground, dead…but there is no telltale crackle of red fire to indicate the demise of the demon within. That is a very large clue, right there. Sam is too busy worrying about the other apparent demon to notice, however. Frantic, he ducks back down behind the shelf, keeping a careful eye on the security mirror – but seeing no sign of the other boy in it.

That's because the boy has crept up behind him. This second kill is far quicker and easier, however, as Sam does not even attempt to save the host this time. Ducking the baseball bat as it is swung at his head, he rams the blade of the knife straight through the boy's neck.

Again, there is no telltale crackle of red fire. Again Sam doesn't notice, agitated as he is by the desperate struggle. Gasping for breath, he stares down at the corpses at his feet, lying in a massive puddle of blood.

Blood – demon blood, moreover, or at least so the black eyes would appear to indicate. And Sam has a dependence on demon blood that has given every sign of being both physiological and psychological.

It was disappointing in the last episode to see the story glibly sidestepping the issue of Sam's addiction, employing a cheap deus ex machina (possibly even a very literal one!) to circumvent withdrawal symptoms and thus avoid another detox storyline, even as a subplot, so soon after When The Levee Breaks. It is reassuring, therefore, to see Sam's temptation here as a sign that although the physical symptoms of withdrawal were evaded, the fallout of Sam's addiction will still be dealt with, such lasting consequences lending weight and depth to the storyline as a whole.

Sam's eyes drift toward the knife in his hand and he lifts it higher for a closer look at the blood-coated blade, reaches out to run his thumb through the blood and then stares at it a little longer.


Will he taste? Or will he be strong enough to resist?

As it turns out, neither he nor we will ever know whether or not he might have given into the temptation, for the bell above the door chimes again and Sam is well and truly distracted from the blood by the prospect of another life-or-death struggle. Panicking, he hastily ducks back down out of sight once more, glancing up at the security mirror to see who has entered this time.

It is Dean, laden with bags full of guns, come to see what is taking so long. "Sammy?" he gruffly calls.

Relieved – and also abashed – Sam stands up again to make his presence known.

Dean rounds the corner and sees his brother standing there, breathless and agitated, with the knife in his hand dripping blood and the corpses and puddle of blood at his feet.

Yeah. It isn't a sight that's what you might call calculated to set Dean's mind at rest.

Neither brother says anything. They don't have to. Sam's shame and Dean's suspicion are written all over their faces.

Church

Training montage! Shotgun 101 is in full force, as the brothers and Ellen teach their frightened band of survivors how to load and fire the assorted weapons Dean has managed to scavenge.

Dean presents a rifle to Gun Guy, asking if he knows his way around a gun at all, and Gun Guy promptly proceeds to expertly disassemble the weapon by way of answer. Dean smirks a little, impressed and somewhat pleased to know that there is at least one other person here capable of looking after himself to some degree, and correctly identifies the man as a veteran. "Where'd you serve?" he asks.

Gun Guy confirms that he returned from two tours in Fallujah a little over a year ago, adding, "Takes one to know one. Where'd you serve?"

A wry little smile pulls at the corner of Dean's lips and his eyes are shadowed as he very honestly replies. "Hell."


Gun Guy snorts. "No, seriously."

Dean looks him right in the eye. "Seriously. Hell."

The POW/war veteran imagery for Dean has been used a lot in fanfiction and has been mentioned by Eric Kripke in interviews, but has not previously been made so overt on-screen. What is really remarkable here is how very open Dean is about his experience, whether the guy is inclined to believe him or not; it says quite a lot that he can just say it now, no flinching: a simple statement of fact. If this is the end of days, and these people already know as much as they do, what's the point of even trying to hide the truth?

A little later, Dean notices Sam sitting off by himself brooding, and takes time out to go sit beside him and quietly ask what's wrong. However tense and strained things might be between them at the moment, they are still brothers, still deeply concerned for one another.


Sam doesn't try to deny anything, although it takes him a moment to find the words for what is bothering him – or rather, what is bothering him most just at the minute. "It's just…at the store. Those demons were possessing teenagers. I mean, I had to slit some kid's throat."

"Come on, Sam, you had to," Dean immediately reassures him, and just for a moment it feels almost like old times.

"I know. I just…used to be, like…" Sam falters. "I just wish I could save people. Like I used to."

And just like that, the moment is over and the tension is back.

"What: when you were all hopped up on demon blood?" Dean pointedly asks.

"I didn't say that," Sam immediately evades, and it is certainly true that he could have meant several things – but the blood and his powers have got to be foremost on his mind, and just like Dean earlier he is sidestepping the allegation rather than actually denying it.

There is such a bittersweet tang to Sam's comment about how he misses being able to save people, because on the one hand he sounds like his old self again, the caring, sympathetic Sam of early seasons, but on the other hand, Dean is right that he is probably referring more to his psychic exorcism mojo than anything else – and by the end of last season he really wasn't using it to save anyone any more, because he was killing instead of exorcising, and to hell with the host.

It is so hard to watch how difficult and tense things are between the brothers now, and yet deeply satisfying because it has to be that way, of course it does, with everything that is hanging between them, as yet unresolved. Dean's snarky accusation is not especially helpful and Sam's defensive reaction is not especially helpful, but both reactions are very honest, natural and understandable, demonstrating clearly that however much they both want to get past all this, as things stand their respective neuroses clash too badly and their raw nerves are jangling too much in opposition to each other, so that they remain completely incapable of helping one another to move forward.

Ellen interrupts to announce that she will be back, and Dean immediately asks where she is going.

"I can't sit here on my ass," she growls. "My daughter is out there somewhere. I'm not back in half an hour, go – get these people out of here."

"No, wait. I'll go with you," Sam suggests…but Dean doesn't like that idea, either, and asks to speak to his brother privately for a moment.

The brothers retreat out into the hallway to talk. Dean takes the softly, softly approach to kick off with, asking if Sam really wants to go out there again, which Sam brushes off. Dean then suggests that he'll go instead, but Sam insists that it's fine – Dean can stay here and get the survivors ready to run for it while he covers Ellen.

"Why's it got to be you?" Dean pointedly asks, giving up on subtle.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Oh, that's right. I forgot. You think I'll take one look at a demon and suddenly fall off the wagon. As if after everything I haven't learned my lesson."


Again, this is Sam in full-blown defensive mode, snippy and supercilious with it, as well, and although I agree with him that Dean's mistrust is unhelpful both where working the job and rebuilding their relationship are concerned, I have to be honest and admit that it is with Dean that my sympathies predominantly lie here. Although Sam's defensiveness is completely understandable, his angry and impatient overreaction to the slightest sign of mistrust is just as unhelpful as the mistrust itself, while being a lot less justified. Dean is right to be wary and concerned, and I empathise completely with his position: worried about Sam putting himself in temptation's way again so soon but not wanting to say so out loud for fear of driving his brother away, torn between being afraid to trust Sam and afraid not to trust him, not knowing how to handle him for the best, and trying to balance all of the above with the pressing priority of both the unfolding Apocalypse and the current crisis. It is still no more than a week since Dean saw Sam so out of control that he openly drank blood from a demon he was fighting, no more than a week since Sam was seizing and hallucinating in Bobby's panic room. And all the lies and deception that led up to that moment are still also painfully fresh, not to mention the enormity of Sam's betrayal of his brother. It is clear that Dean is trying to get past it, but it really, really isn't as easy as that; the degradation of his trust was immense and only time and patience can heal that damage – not to mention, perhaps most importantly of all, clear and consistent proof that Sam really has changed and that it is safe to trust him once more. Sam's word alone can no longer be sufficient after everything that has happened.

Sam just doesn't seem willing to be patient or to allow the time that the healing process needs, though, or to put in the hard yards that will truly prove his renewed trustworthiness – he wants his word, his statement of contrition, to be proof enough, completely missing the point that he has lied too many times for that to be possible. In a sense, the brothers are at cross purposes still. Sam is focused on the intellectual, reasoning that since it is obvious that he understands now why drinking demon blood was wrong, Dean no longer has any reason not to trust him. Dean, however, has always operated on a more instinctual level, and knowing that Sam's situation has changed now simply does not undo the immense damage caused by those months of lies. Once bitten, twice shy.

The bottom line is that Sam was the one who broke faith and therefore Sam is the one who is going to have to go the hard mile to rebuild that faith, and that means living with the hard-earned consequences of his actions, no matter how unpleasant they might be, and doing whatever it takes to prove himself, instead of reacting with anger and aggression whenever he feels those earned consequences confronting him. It means making allowances for the damage he has inflicted on the trust his brother once had in him, and being prepared to swallow his pride and put Dean's needs ahead of his own on this issue. He just doesn't seem willing to do that, wants his apology and statement of having learned his lesson to be all it takes to repair the damage, so that he can move on immediately without looking back. Unfortunately, it is not going to be as easy as that, and nor should it be.

Dean does not back down. "Well, have you?" he asks.

Damn, but that hurts, from both of their perspectives, because it hurts Sam so much to know that he isn't trusted, but it hurts Dean, too, to know that he can't trust him.

This argument is highly reminiscent of a similar argument the brothers had way back in Metamorphosis, at the beginning of season four. Then, too, Sam claimed to know the difference between right and wrong, reacting with anger to the merest suggestion that he might not, and Dean backed down and believed him – only for it to later be revealed that by then Sam had already started drinking demon blood to boost his psychic powers, and although he gave up the habit after the events of that episode, knowing the difference between right and wrong did not stop him resuming that habit later, the start of the terrible downward spiral that was the second half of last season. Like I said, once bitten, twice shy. It all feeds into the reason why it is so hard for Dean to fully accept that Sam now truly understands where he went wrong, enough to never go there again.

Stung, Sam reacts violently, shoving his brother hard into the wall – but his reaction is violent precisely because he knows that Dean is right and that the question is very, very valid. He was and is tempted, because recovering from an addiction is never as simple as merely understanding that it is bad for you, but he doesn't want to admit that even to himself. And it is all very male and testosterone-fuelled – but worth bearing in mind that the last time the brothers came to blows, which for them was only a few days ago, Sam ended up strangling Dean. And then, too, his aggression stemmed from his reluctance to back down and listen to the truth of what his brother was saying.

Ellen's attention is drawn by the commotion, and she shoots a puzzled and concerned frown at the brothers through the open door.

"If you actually think I…" Sam splutters with indignation, but he doesn't manage to finish the sentence, not with Dean staring him down, grave and unyielding. Denying his temptation would be a lie, and for all his resentment he can't bring himself to lie to his brother again, not after everything, after the damage his lies of last season caused. But that does not mean that he is prepared to back down, take his brother's concerns on board and negotiate accordingly. Sam has never found compromise easy. So instead of arguing the point, he turns and marches back into the room, leaving Dean fretful and frustrated.

Street

Having got his own way again, being decidedly more prepared than Dean appears to be to make a big scene and throw his weight around on this issue, Sam walks down a random Riverpass Street with Ellen, both of them armed and extremely alert. As they walk, Sam asks where Ellen last saw her daughter, and she vaguely mentions that it was just up ahead, before proceeding to stick her nose in most marvellously.


"So, what's up with you and Dean?" she boldly asks, wary side eyes from Sam prompting her to continue, "Well, it's hard not to notice how different things are between you guys these days." Sam cannot deny this, but is also quite clearly not inclined to talk about it. Ellen nods understandingly. "Lot of bad road down, huh? What happened? Some girl come between you, or something?"

That would be a natural enough assumption for most ordinary families in ordinary circumstances, I suppose…and in a way, it is actually true here, too. But then again…if only she knew!

It's actually quite impressive how private the brothers have managed to keep their troubles – that lack of contact with anyone but Bobby last season has paid off there, at least. It must seem especially odd to someone who knows how close they were and knows also of Dean's remarkable resurrection, that he should come back and immediately fall out with his brother on this scale. No wonder Ellen is so curious.

"Just…stresses of the job, you know how it is," Sam uncomfortably attempts to brush it off, because where would he even begin? She's a friend but she is also an outsider, and there is too much that he can't even begin to explain. "I'm kind of surprised, you and Jo hunting," he adds by way of flipping the uncomfortable subject back onto Ellen. "Didn't you always think she couldn't hack the life?"

"She can't," Ellen bluntly agrees – which is not exactly a vote of confidence in her hunting partner there! Also, as I recall, Ellen's objection to Jo hunting was less about not thinking she could 'hack the life' and more about being terrified of losing what little family she had left to the vocation that had already claimed the life of her husband. "But if she's going to do it anyway…"

"You want to keep an eye on her," Sam nods understandingly, since that is a line that is hugely familiar to him, in more ways than one. For one thing, after all, there have been numerous occasions when one or other of the brothers have wanted to give up but nonetheless kept hunting to support the other, while now especially he is acutely aware of Dean keeping a close eye on him.

It feels good to know that Ellen and Jo have reconciled and are now working together, even if only because Ellen doesn't want her daughter hunting alone. There are so many issues crammed into that simple dynamic: Ellen's aversion to active hunting overcome for the sake of ensuring that her daughter has backup, Jo's thirst for independence reined in for the sake of a restored relationship with the mother she could so easily have lost when the Roadhouse burned down, trust, loyalty, love, compromise – the list goes on and on. I'd love to see more of their story, but even just this snippet is enough to please and to tantalise me.

Sam notices something up ahead – smoke coming from the chimney of a random house – so they head on over to check it out. Lurking in the garden, they see a black-eyed man at one of the windows, and Ellen notes that they seem to have found base camp. Sam is puzzled, however, wondering why demons would need to light a fire, since they don't get cold. "Makes you wonder what they're burning."


Before they can investigate any further, however, Ellen is grabbed from behind, and before Sam can rush to her defence he too is attacked. While Sam wrestles with one apparently demon-possessed man, another pins Ellen against the nearby wall and a gun-wielding Jo pops up behind her, snarling, "Don't move, you evil skank!"

Sam continues his fight – coming off a very definite second best at first, but then he rallies and begins to gain the upper hand, so that the man pinning Ellen comes over and weighs in to the fight. Jo takes his place, pressing her shotgun against Ellen's throat to hold her in place, eyes now shining beetle black.

"Don't you hurt her," Ellen frantically pleads. "Don't you –"

"Give me my Mom back, you black-eyed bitch," Jo rather unexpectedly snaps.


Huh. So clearly, they each believe that the other is possessed. It's a Clue!

Rather than puzzle over this curious turn of events, Ellen breaks free of her daughter's hold, wresting the shotgun out of her hand and using it to club her to the ground. Having just about managed to take down both of the men he was fighting, Sam then yells at her to run – just as a third man clubs him down from behind.

Ellen has enough sense to do as she is told, and legs it.

Dazed, Sam rolls over to see his captor – Rufus, with demon-black eyes. "Got you now, you bastard," the old hunter growls, just as Sam passes out.

House

Some time later, Sam comes around to find himself securely tied to a chair in front of a roaring wood fire. He is alarmed to see Rufus and Jo standing before him, both sporting demon-black eyes. He strains against his bonds, but Rufus shrugs that there is no way he is getting out of them, having tied the knots himself. "You're stuck right where I want you, you evil son of a bitch," he menaces, smacking Sam resoundingly around the face.

Jo follows this up by throwing water over him – holy water.

This is decidedly odd behaviour for demons. Again, something clearly isn't right, here.


Both Rufus and Jo look puzzled and a little alarmed when Sam fails to react to the holy water. Undeterred, Rufus grabs Sam's jaw to force his mouth open, while Jo hurries to hold his head, and then despite Sam's frantic protestations Rufus pours vast quantities of salt into his mouth, while murmuring the words of an exorcism.

This is the point where I start to fear for Sam's health – they are going to give him salt poisoning or a heart attack at this rate!

Curiouser and curiouser.

Church

Stuck in the church basement babysitting the room full of frightened survivors instead of out there keeping an eye on his brother and combating the demon menace, Dean is pacing fretfully when Ellen knocks on the door to be allowed back in.

"Where's Sam?" Dean immediately asks.

Ellen just looks at him, shakes her head looking tearful.

You know, she really needs to say the word 'captured' aloud here, because the immediate assumption, based on her sorrowful attitude, should be that Sam is dead, given that so many in town have died in battle already.

Oh, in a nice touch, one of the other women silently offers Ellen a bottle of water as she sits. Nice little detail. I like it.

"They took him?" the pregnant woman fearfully squeaks, just to clarify the point, since Dean was looking alarmed. "Demons took him?"

Again, why would they assume that Sam has merely been captured when everyone else lost to the apparent demons has been killed?

The pregnant woman starts to panic, fretting that the demons could be right here in the room, and the reverend is quick to ask if demons could get in. "No," Dean assures him, thinking hard, his instinctive Sam's gone panic written all over his face.

Dean grabs a gun, instructs everyone to sit tight and storms off toward the door, because when Sam is in danger Dean always charges after him, every time, always has…but then he checks himself at the door, stops and thinks and weighs up the situation, the fact that he has a room full of defenceless people here who are all relying on him, that he has a responsibility to more than just Sam, who is a highly skilled hunter more than capable of looking after himself. He looks back and fore between the people and the door a few times, visibly fighting with himself, and then gives in to his better judgement and returns to the table. "We need to get a plan together," he reluctantly but urgently announces, asking Ellen to tell him everything.


Wow. This is a huge moment for Dean – he really has been maturing exponentially over the last few episodes, truly becoming the leader of men he was always capable of being, and it is amazing to see. As much as it is visibly tearing him apart to leave Sam in danger for a moment longer than absolutely necessary, the fact is that Sam is generally capable of looking after himself even in the stickiest of situations, whereas the townsfolk hiding here in this basement are completely defenceless and are relying on Dean to help them survive – Ellen, relatively inexperienced as she is, has already admitted that she can't cope with this situation alone. The decision Dean has made here was clearly very difficult, but is most assuredly the mature and responsible thing to do, thinking with his head instead of his heart for once. It is far better to gather as much information as possible and then form a strategy accordingly than to simply charge off half-cocked based on panic alone, and Dean not only understands that better than he once did, but also, more importantly, has come to understand the importance of applying that principle in practice even where Sam is concerned. He is right at the forefront of this war, which means he has to weigh his priorities very carefully at all times, and Sam simply cannot always be number one any more – and nor does he necessarily need to be

As much as we have all loved the fierce co-dependence of the brothers, this change in pattern is fabulously healthy to see. Dean has been through the fires of hell in more ways than one, and come through it all so much stronger than he ever knew he could be. I look forward to Sam achieving a similar maturity as a result of his own personal ordeals.

House

Back at the house, the still black-eyed Rufus and Jo are still pouring salt into and over Sam's mouth – and therefore I am still concerned for his health – Rufus still intoning the words of an exorcism, while Sam gasps and splutters and protests as best he can around the mouthful of salt.

"Look. Something's not right. You see that?" Sam gasps as Rufus finishes reciting his exorcism and steps back, looking confused as all heck that it hasn't worked. Not listening, Jo picks up her flagon of holy water and throws it over Sam's face again, which at least serves to wash the worst of the salt off. "Come on," he protests. "Stop. Listen."


Then he sees someone standing in the doorway – and recognises the man. It is Roger, the man who said his wife came at him with a brick, and who should surely be holed up in the church basement still, rather than hanging out here with the apparently demon-possessed Rufus and Jo.

Peering around the doorway, Roger twists the ring on his finger, just a little, while Sam despairingly strains at his bonds and gazes up at the intricate devil's trap painted on the ceiling above him. "Look, listen," he begins again, but it is no use.

"Why isn't it working?" Jo hisses at Rufus, who can only shrug that he doesn't know, gazing back at Sam – who from their perspective is the one with demon-black eyes, not them; they are just two hunters trying to save an ally who has got himself possessed.

And you know, I kinda regret that we don't get to see that much of Jo in this episode, since Sam was possessed the last time she encountered him, as well, and it might have been interesting to explore what it means to her to find him in apparently the exact same situation again now.

"Look. Listen to me, something's not right," Sam pleads, but his eyes are black and they both know what that means, therefore are not prepared to listen to a word he says. "You can see that. Please. Just listen to me."


"He's not as strong as he thinks he is," Rufus growls.

Church

"Dean, one of them's in Jo," Ellen anxiously explains as she tells the story of how she came to lose Sam – or, rather, to beat a hasty retreat and leave him to his fate. "We've got to get it out without hurting her."

Ever since the devil's gate opened – still more now that the Apocalypse is unfolding – there have simply been too many demons walking the earth for any hunter to be delicate about their disposal. Those using friends or family as hosts remain the exception to that rule, however, wherever humanly possible. It is a natural reaction.

Disbelieving, Ellen continues. "It called me a bitch!" Dean points out that she pretty much got off lightly there, but that isn't what Ellen means. "It called me a black-eyed bitch," she elaborates. "What kind of demons are these? Holy water and salt roll right off. My daughter may be an idiot but she's not stupid. She wears an anti-possession charm. It's all kind of weird, right?"

Dean is thinking hard, assessing the evidence. "The whole thing's off," he agrees.


"What's your instinct?" Ellen asks – keeping him focused and trusting his judgement both.

"My instinct?" Dean sighs. "My instinct is to call Bobby and ask for help. Or Sam."

Bless. Dean is so used to functioning as a member of a team, he feels totally off-kilter without that backup.

I wonder, though – would either Ellen or Rufus know about Bobby's disability? It only happened a few days ago. Rufus didn't show any sign of knowing when he called to ask for help – which he surely wouldn't have done if he knew – and if Ellen hasn't been in touch with Bobby in a while (which, again, she can't have been if she only heard about Dean's resurrection from Rufus) she wouldn't know either. Unless the brothers have found time to tell her since they got here, which seems unlikely. With the phones all out of action, however, she doesn't need to know about it to know that Dean can't just call Bobby for help with this problem.

"Well, tough," Ellen snips. "All you've got's me and all I've got's you, so let's figure it out."

Luckily, finding patterns in the bizarre based on very little is something Dean is very good at, and he rises to the challenge thus issued with aplomb. "All right," he readily agrees, prompting a ghost of a smile from Ellen. "Do you know why Rufus came to town? Was there a specific omen?"

I really love the way Dean interacts with Ellen, who on the one hand is a parent figure that he reacts against, chafing against the maternal authority that is so alien to him, and on the other hand is a parent figure that he can relate to, having himself been both mother and father to Sam in so many ways.

I also love the way the two of them support one another in this scene, each of them silently understanding that the other needs that support. Ellen is talking plural, offering to figure it out together, which is reassuring to Dean, and I think she knows that, knows that he is fretting as badly as she is in the absence of his usual support mechanisms. On the other hand, though, Ellen is actually pretty useless at the whole figuring it out thing and she knows that, too. She has been here longer than the brothers and has not managed to solve the puzzle herself, is afraid and desperate, and although she is talking plural what she pretty much wants is for Dean to take over and solve it for her.


All Ellen knows about what initially brought Rufus to town is that it had something to do with water, which isn't exactly helpful, so Dean turns to the reverend for elucidation and he stammers that the river ran polluted all of a sudden. Dean asks when and Gun Guy chips in to say that it was last Wednesday – which, I am going to guess, was the day Lucifer rose – and the demon thing started up the next day.

Still thinking hard, and managing to sound very authoritative even if he is still in bits on the inside, Dean asks if there was anything else, anything at all. "Maybe," shrugs Gun Guy, looking uncertain. "But it's pretty random."

"Good. Random's good," Dean encourages.

"Shooting star. Does that count?" Gun Guy offers. "Real big. Same night. Wednesday."

Yes, that definitely counts, Dean murmurs, pulling all the pieces together at lightning speed. He leaps up, grabs a Bible off a nearby shelf, opens it at Revelation, and starts flicking through in search of a particular passage – demonstrating rather startling familiarity with the book in the process. He has clearly been reading up over the past few months since Bobby started quoting it as a reference guide to the Apocalypse.

"So, uh – you think that all this comes from outer space?" Gun Guy scathingly disbelieves, and quite rightly too, since that is exactly what Dean doesn't think.

"This isn't X-Files, pal," Dean rather absently dismisses, scanning pages until he finds the one he was looking for. He reads aloud. "And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon a river, and the name of the star was Wormwood, and many men died."

Ellen, let us note, looks shocked by the implication even before the priest identifies the passage as Revelation 8:10 – and hallelujah, someone on this show finally said the name of that book right!

"Are you saying that this is about the Apocalypse?" Bless, the reverend's voice rises about a full octave as he struggles to get the words out, torn between considering it a preposterous notion and being petrified at the thought of it.

Dean regards him sombrely, and doesn't bother trying to hide the truth any more than he bothered to sugar coat his past with Gun Guy earlier. "You could say," he confirms. "These specific omens, they're the prelude to what?"

Of course, since he knows the verse so well, he should already know this – but maybe is just encouraging his audience to play along so he doesn't have to handle all the exposition alone.

I really love seeing Dean being smart and putting all the clues together to figure out what is really going on. He always has excelled at drawing together random fragments of information and deciphering the pattern therein, and his expertise shines through marvellously here, reflecting his newly re-established determination and mission-focus – a wonderfully effective contrast with the way his post-hell trauma left him unable to function effectively as a hunter throughout the middle section of last season.


"The Four Horsemen," the reverend shakily replies.

"And which one rides the red horse?" Dean asks, mind still whizzing along at a mile a minute as he figures it all out. War, the reverend answers, and Dean turns to Ellen. "That cherry mustang parked on Main," he says, and she nods her agreement.

The reverend starts to splutter that a car couldn't possibly be equated to the horse of one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but Dean just shrugs.

"That's the way I roll," he says, deadly serious and now understanding what the hell is going on here. "I mean, think about it – it all makes sense. If War's a dude and he's here, maybe he's messing with our heads."

"Turning us on each other," Ellen nods, understanding.

"You said Jo called you a black-eyed bitch," Dean reminds her. "They think we're demons, we think they're demons – what if there are no demons at all. We're all just killing each other."

Man, that's a depressing though, given the body count implied by the episode – especially since it includes the two teenagers that Sam killed earlier, who we now know were not demon-possessed at all, but were merely two scared kids trying to survive.

You know what else I love about this scene? I love the way the two hunters are just bouncing all these ideas off each other, perfectly in sync and understanding one another completely, because all this is fairly standard for them – but the civilians are, understandably, having trouble keeping up. It reminds us of the vast divide between hunter and civilian and how differently each would define normal.

"Wait, back up," the reverend interrupts. "It's the Apocalypse?"

Dean is sympathetic. "Sorry, Padre."

The reverend just stands there, horrified, struggling to absorb the enormity of it all.

House

Sam is sitting alone in his impromptu prison, silently contemplating how very trapped he is – and possibly also reflecting on how salty his mouth still tastes, how thirsty he is as a result, and how unpleasant all that salt caked onto his face feels – when the door opens and Roger comes in. Sam instantly snaps onto the offensive. "Who the hell are you?" he demands. "What are you?"

Roger – or, rather, War – takes off his specs, since he doesn't really need them, is just wearing them for show. "You caught me. I popped in to watch," he cheerfully admits.

"So the Roger everyone around here knows?" Sam presses. "The real Roger?"

Buried in a ditch, War shrugs, closing the door behind him the better to keep this conversation private and pulling a chair over to sit opposite Sam.


Hang on. Has no one at the church noticed that he is gone? That's sloppy!

"So who are you?" Sam asks again, implacable.

"Here's a hint," War offers. "I was in Germany. Then in Germany. Then in the Middle East. I was in Darfur when my beeper went off. I'm waiting to hook up with my siblings; I've got three. We're going to have so much fun together."

Having it all spelled out for him like that, Sam gets it – because Sam, like Dean, is smart. "I know who you are," he realises, and War cheerfully applauds him. "There aren't any demons in town, are there?" Sam continues.

War happily admits that there are not. "Just frightened people, ripping each other's throats out. I really haven't had to do too much – take out a bridge here, lay in a little hallucination there, sit back and pop some corn. Watch the show. Frankly, you are really vicious little animals."

Sam is stung, and shakes his head in furious denial. "No. You're doing this."

"Please," War eye rolls. "Last week this was Mayberry. Now these people are stabbing each other's children."

"'Cause you made them see demons!" Sam spits.

"Honestly? People don't need a reason to kill each other," says War, which is a line that rings depressingly true at times, given the headlines – although it would be more true to say that they don't need much of a reason to kill each other. "I mean, you seen the Irish? They're all Irish." Sam still looks furious and War sighs. "You think I'm a monster. I'm jello shots at a party, I just remove inhibitions."

"I'm going to kill you myself," Sam seethes.

"Oh, that's adorable," War chuckles. "Considering you're my poster boy."

Sam is taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean?"


"You can't stop thinking about it," says War. "Ever since you saw it dripping off the blade of that knife."

And we're back to the demon blood again – even though it wasn't even real demon blood, we now know. What matters is that Sam believed it was, and he wanted it.

Sam tenses and stills, breathing hard. "You're wrong," he denies, even as the truth of the allegation is written all over his face.

"Save your protests for your brother," War condescends. "I can see inside your head, and it is one-track city in there. Blood. Blood. Blood."

All Sam can do is sit there, staring, tense and desperate, confronted with the ugly truth he has been denying throughout. You think I'll take one look at a demon and suddenly fall off the wagon, as if after everything I haven't learned my lesson, he spat at Dean earlier, but the truth is now written all over his face, spelled out for him by War – that compulsion, that desire, remains as strong as ever, no matter how well his lesson has been learnt, because his need for the blood, both physiological and psychological as it is, is deep-seated. Now that he knows the truth he intends to give it up, wants to give it up, in much the same way that Dean wants to be able to trust him, but undoing damage that severe is going to take a lot more than merely wanting to, on both counts. The wanting to merely gives them the place to begin.

War leans forward conversationally. "Lust," he continues. "Power. Same song – you want to be strong again. But not just strong: stronger than everybody. Good intentions, quick slide to hell, buddy boy."

Sam looks devastated, unable to deny the truth of any of it. He has wanted, so badly, to believe that it was as simple as saying 'I know now that drinking demon blood was the wrong thing to do and therefore will not do it again', but has not for a moment even begun to confront all the issues that caused him to develop the habit in the first place, which means that he is still vulnerable. Sam wants to be in control of his own life, wants to be strong enough and powerful enough to ensure that no one can ever take that control from him again, and that is an issue that he desperately needs to work through, because it was so easy for Ruby to sneak that control out from under him by providing him with a mere illusion of it. Sam believed that he was in control of the blood even when it was obvious that he wasn't, simply because he wanted to believe that he was in control of it – and he still wants to believe that he is in control, that he controls the blood habit rather than it controlling him, that it is as simple as saying no once and then it is all over and the problem is solved. But that is a dangerous mindset, and his temptation in this episode has demonstrated that.


"You feel bad now," War chuckles. "Wait till you're thigh deep in warm corpses. Because, my friend, I'm just getting started."

With that, War stands up once more and reaches into a pocket, and Sam tenses and shies away, fearing an attack. War is a lot subtler than that, however, and merely pulls out Roger's glasses and replaces them on his face. "Showtime for the meat suits," he declares. "Watch this."

With a twist of his ring, blood starts trickling from his head, much to Sam's alarm, and then War kicks the empty chair over and drops to the ground with a yell, bringing Rufus and Jo running. War accuses Sam of attacking him. "He said they're coming, he said they're coming to get us!" he yells.

Sam frantically protests his innocence, but all they see are the black, demonic eyes and heed not a word that he says, Rufus silencing him with a heavy blow to the jaw.

Church

The confused and traumatised band of survivors is struggling to keep up with the pace of developments and revelations.

"So now you're saying that there are no demons and that war is a guy?" Gun Guy disbelieves.

"You believed crazy before," Dean points out, but before he can go any further someone starts hammering at the door. It is Roger – or, rather, War in Roger's guise.

Again, I wonder when Roger left and why no one stopped him leave.

"I saw them," he gasps upon being allowed back in. "The demons. They know we're trying to leave. They said they're going to pick us off one by one."

Dean immediately smells a rat. "Wait, wait, wait. What?" he puzzles, while Gun Guy reminds him that he said there are no demons. "There's not," he firmly states, rounding on Roger with a fierce, "Where did you go?"


Yes, and who opened the door to let him out, alone and unarmed, and why did they think it was a good idea? He could, I suppose, have teleported himself out secretly – but it still speaks volumes for the state of mind of everyone else that no one noticed he was missing.

"I thought someone should go out and see what's going on," Roger defends.

"Where did you see the demons and what did they say exactly?" Dean demands, while Gun Guy flatly states that if they just sit here they are all going to die. "No, we're not," insists Dean, trying desperately to retain control of the situation.

"They're going to kill us. Unless we kill them first," War offers in his guise as Roger, just to stir things up some more, sowing the seeds of dissension and paranoia that have already proved so fruitful.

Dean tries to calm everyone down, but panic has set in now, Gun Guy deciding that he is going to take charge and that the able-bodied should go hunt some demons.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow your roll – this is not a demon thing," Dean insists again, but they are no longer listening to him…and then War catches his eye and smirks, and Dean realises who he is, knows also that War knows that he knows, and that they both know he can't do a thing about it.

War holds up his ring by way of taunting Dean, and then inflames the situation still further, backing away from the two hunters in feigned fear and trembling. "Look at their eyes! They're demons!" he gasps, and the surviving townsfolk all turn toward Dean and Ellen…and see demon-black eyes.


Seeing the reverend instantly fumbling with a gun and Gun Guy also bringing his around to bear, Dean hustles Ellen to the door and out of there, narrowly avoiding a shotgun blast to the back.

War looks intensely satisfied with his work.

Later

With Dean and Ellen now gone, Gun Guy has most definitely taken over as leader of the pack, determinedly gearing up for a demon hunting expedition.

War watches him loading a gun and mildly points out that he is using real bullets instead of rock salt. Gun Guy calmly says that Dean and Ellen might have been demons the whole time and that all their talk of salt and holy water is therefore discredited. War asks if he is sure and Gun Guy shrugs. "It's them or us."

People don't need a reason to kill each other, War told Sam earlier, and the situation here certainly is proving his point for him. All he has to do is sow the seeds of doubt and fear, and then rampant paranoia does the rest of his work for him. It's them or us, says Gun Guy here, no longer caring for any other distinction. The enemy has been defined, the flight or fight stress reaction has overruled all higher brain functions, and therefore all he is interested in now is survival, is prepared to do whatever he believes it will take to ensure that, no matter what, no second guessing allowed.

War gives him another nudge along that dark road. "I think I saw some knives in the kitchen…"

"Great. Go," Gun Guy flatly orders, and War, delighting in his work, is only too happy to oblige.

House

Rufus and Jo, meanwhile, are laying booby traps for any demons that try to get into their impromptu stronghold, because they, too, have defined their enemy and have decided that they are willing to do whatever it takes to ensure the survival of their group.

Or, rather, Rufus is laying booby traps, setting tripwires and bombs at the window, with Jo handing him whatever he asks for by way of assisting.

We don't see enough of Jo in this episode to get a really clear view of her development since we last saw her. From what we do see, however, she comes across as a capable and competent hunter – but then, she always had the potential for that, it was just that back in season two she had considerably more enthusiasm than experience in the field. She has a bit more of that experience under her belt now, and it shows – not least in her willingness to defer to the expertise of a veteran hunter like Rufus, where back in season two her determination to prove herself saw her resenting the authority of those more experienced than herself. She has visibly matured.


Also, of course, since she believes her mother to be possessed and fears the worst accordingly, like Dean and Ellen earlier she needs support and reassurance – and Rufus is giving it to her, as unlikely as that may seem, from what we know of him from his previous appearance on the show. He appears to have completely taken her under his wing, while also treating her with respect as a fellow hunter. It is rather an intriguing dynamic, in fact.

Sitting holding a bomb in each hand while Rufus sets the wire, Jo looks troubled. "Hey, Rufus," she begins. "Pipe bombs won't kill a demon."

"Right," he agrees, concentrating on the task at hand. "But in my experience, demons come at you slower if they're in a body with no limbs."

Eh, that's nasty. Take no prisoners tactics indeed! Even if the townsfolk were possessed, which we now know that they aren't, their host bodies would still be innocent and would deserve to be given every chance to survive. But the trouble is that in a time of war when positively drowning in enemies, there is just no time or space for delicacy.

"One of them is in my mother," Jo protests, because however much pragmatism may say that there is no choice but to do whatever it takes to destroy the enemy and survive, the line between them and us always gets blurred when one of them is also one of us.

Rufus turns from his preparations to regard her solemnly. "Jo, listen to me," he gruffly says. "You know I'm going to do everything I can. Your mom's going to be okay."


Jo nods, and manages to fight back the tears she desperately wants to shed. "Unless she comes through that window," she baldly states. And that just about sums it up, really: the harsh realities of war.

Rufus has no more comfort to offer, instead holds out a hand for a bomb, and Jo hands it to him, committed to this however desperately worried and afraid she is.

Church

Gun Guy leads a heavily armed team of vigilantes out in search of demons.

House

Jo and Rufus load their shotguns, ready for battle.

An explosion suddenly rips through the other room – someone has tripped the trap Rufus set. The two of them exchange wide-eyed stares for a second, and then cautiously move to investigate.

Rufus goes first…but as he cautiously peers out of the ruined window, someone pops up, grabs him, and drags him out!

Jo yells in alarm – and is promptly seized from behind.

What? Did they not set any traps on the front door, after taking such care with the window? Anyone could just walk right in? Careless!

I love, though, that Dean and Ellen anticipated the traps and circumvented them.

While Dean struggles with Rufus outside, Ellen wrestles Jo against the nearest wall and pins her there. "Now you listen up, Joanna Beth Harvelle," she says – but from Jo's perspective it is a black-eyed demon doing the talking, and she continues to struggle.

Outside, Dean likewise gets Rufus pinned against the wall – likewise sporting demon black eyes from the other man's perspective – and starts talking. "Listen to me. I'm not a demon," he insists. "Rufus, think – all those omens –"


"You go to hell," Rufus snarls, kneeing him in the groin, since hunters do not fight fair, and following it up with a few hefty punches that send Dean reeling.

Dean recovers fast and dives for Rufus as Rufus dives for his shotgun, grabbing him and slamming him against the wall again. "Rufus! The polluted water, the shooting star, the red mustang – it's War," he urgently attempts to explain. "I'm telling you. It's War."

Yeah, from Rufus's perspective, that sounds more like a declaration of war than anything else. Dean never was the most articulate of guys. "You're damn right it is!" Rufus snarls, landing a heavy right hook before trying to go for the gun again.

Dean wrestles him to the ground and uses his full body weight to hold him down. "The Horsemen," he shouts, desperate to make the other hunter understand. "He's turning us against each other; you're hallucinating!"

Finally, finally Rufus begins to understand – stares hard at Dean and sees the black vanish from his eyes, replaced by his natural hazel-green, currently wide and anxious.


"Horsemen," Rufus mutters, slowly putting the pieces together. "War."

"Yes," Dean impatiently growls.

"Did you figure this out all by yourself, genius?" Rufus mutters, chagrined and anxious to save face.

Dean has enough grace not to point out that yes: he did, actually. Instead he pulls the older hunter back to his feet and they hurry inside.

You know, I really kind of love that this episode makes clear that Dean and Sam are so much better at all this than anyone else, since they each independently figured out what was really going on here, where all the other hunters remained hopelessly in thrall to War's little mind games. Of course, Dean and Sam do have the slight advantage, if you can call it that, of being on the inside track of the unfolding Apocalypse, and Sam, of course, had the benefit of War actively revealing himself to him, but still: Rufus, Ellen and Jo all had access to the same information that Dean had, but failed to put the clues together. So, well done, Dean.

Upstairs

Seated at an upstairs window, the curly-haired guy we saw Rufus rescuing way back at the top of the hour sees a whole bunch of heavily armed townsfolk heading for the house – Gun Guy and his band.

Downstairs

Ellen and Jo both swing around in alarm, Ellen with Jo's shotgun at the ready, as the door flies open and Dean and Rufus come charging in. "We all on the same page?" she asks, holding the gun steady – pointed at Dean, though, rather than Rufus, and she knows that Dean knows the truth.


Dean nods, and they all calm down very slightly, and then he quietly greets Jo with a soft smile, and she nods, murmuring a 'hi' right back at him. And that is the full extent of their interaction in this episode, which is a shame, really. Given how awkward and uncomfortable the circumstances were in which the brothers and Jo last parted company, it might have been nice to see a little more meaningful interaction between them all in this episode, but there just isn't space for that in the story. It might be nice, though, to see Jo again sometime, if we ever get the chance, and explore the dynamic a little further.

Dean begins to say that they have to find War before everybody in this town kills everyone else – but a series of shots cut across the statement, and they all hurriedly duck for cover as Gun Guy rakes the house with gunfire. Cursing, Dean asks where Sam is and then rushes upstairs to free him, leaving the others to take defensive measures, while Gun Guy instructs his troops.

Upstairs, Sam is just sitting there still, trapped, listening to the sounds of warfare outside, when Dean comes charging in. Frantic, Sam hastens to tell him that it isn't demons.

"It's War," both brothers chorus, each of them having figured this out independently when no one else could, because they are just that brilliant, and it warms the cockles of my heart to hear them jinxing like that again. As he cuts Sam loose, Dean adds that he just can't figure out how War is doing it, so Sam explains that it is the ring and Dean remembers seeing him turn it right before all the others started hallucinating. With that established, Dean hurriedly hustles his brother back downstairs to join the others.

The battle continues to rage. The curly-haired guy with the leg injury fires from an upstairs window. Gun Guy and his team shoot from behind their assorted points of cover, providing covering fire so that others can creep up around the back. Another of Rufus's armed civilians spots them and fires at them – until Rufus charges out onto the porch, bellowing at the man to cease fire, yanks the gun from his hand and lays him out with it. "I'm getting too old for this," he mutters.

Upstairs, a very frightened Injured Leg Guy sees the reverend dashing from one point of cover to the next and shoots him, much to the consternation of the young woman with him. With both now out of sight behind some bushes, Injured Leg Guy anxiously waits, gun in hand, preparing to shoot again if need be.

Outside, Ellen dashes over to the fallen reverend and begins to administer first aid.

Inside, Rufus disarms Injured Leg Guy. "Stop firing," he snaps. "Usually means stop firing."

Outside, Gun Guy drags Ellen away from Injured Leg Guy, aims his gun right between her eyes – still seeing those eyes as demon black, of course – and pulls the trigger!

Nothing happens. Out of ammo. Such a relief.

Ellen immediately takes advantage of the moment and fights, only for the guy to pull a knife on her, still seeing demon black eyes and caring for nothing else. Ellen struggles to hold him off.

Street

Satisfied that his work here is complete, War heads back to his cherry red mustang – only for Dean and Sam to sneak up behind him, their team work impeccable as they grab him and pin him.


War just laughs.

Outside the house

The tip of Gun Guy's knife hovers right above Ellen's throat as she continues to struggle to hold him off.

Where the heck are Jo and Rufus when she needs them?

Street

While Dean holds War tight, Sam pulls out the demon-killing knife, and War laughs again. "That's a sweet little knife, but come on – you can't kill War, kiddos."

"Oh, we know," Dean murmurs into his ear, as Sam grabs the man's hand – and slices his fingers clean off, ring and all! Ick!

Blood splatters across Sam's face, War yells, and several fingers and the ring bounce off the asphalt.

Outside the house

Gun Guy is confused as the hallucination suddenly wears off and he finds himself on the verge of murdering a completely normal, non-demonic woman, not a trace of black in her eyes. Shocked and confused, he backs off.

Inside the house

In the upper room, with all hallucinations of doom now at an end and grim reality settling back in, Injured Leg Guy is overwhelmed by the horror of it all and buries his head in his hands.


Presumably the rest of the surviving townsfolk are also reaching similar horrified realisations regarding their recent actions, but we don't get to see any of that, just as we don't get to find out if the unfortunate reverend actually survives his injuries or not.

Downstairs

Rufus and Jo relax now that the crisis is over and regard one another with relief.

Street

Dean picks up War's bloody ring and the brothers both gape at the empty street in which they now find themselves, both War and his cherry red mustang having disappeared without trace.


Picturesque random rest spot in the middle of nowhere

Hey, so the brothers have found themselves yet another ridiculously scenic location to stop and regroup after the frenzy of the case. Dean really does love these pretty, pretty locations – he seems to find them with remarkable regularity. The prettiness of it almost makes up for not getting to say goodbye to Ellen, Jo and Rufus, while although this stands as just another concluding scene tacked onto the end of the story plot, for once it flows fluidly and naturally from what has come before, instead of feeling disjointed as they so often do.


The brothers sit together at a picnic bench, Dean still contemplating War's ring. "So, pit stop at Mount Doom?" he suggests, trying to keep things light.


Although he makes the effort to huff a little almost-chuckle in response to his brother's humour, Sam is pretty much completely over playing at normal. He can't do it any more. It has only been a matter of days since Lucifer rose and he has been running full tilt for much of that times, has had no time to regroup and take stock of what he did and where his guilt lies. But this job, and War's observations in particular, have made him take a long, hard look at himself, and he is deeply troubled by what he saw.

"Dean," Sam begins.

"Sam, let's not," Dean immediately interrupts, reluctant to have this conversation and unwilling to deal with anything that has happened between them, preferring instead to keep playing at normal until it somehow becomes real. Dean always was king of denial, and even now those tendencies still tend to rear their head when difficult emotional situations arise.

"No, listen, this is important," insists Sam, and Dean stops arguing and listens, because although denial and avoidance are still his gut instinct he has matured enough to know that some issues have to be dealt with, however difficult it might be. "I-I know you don't trust me," Sam hesitantly begins, and Dean averts his eyes uncomfortably as his brother continues, "Just – now I realise something. I don't trust me, either."


Listening to this, Dean regards his brother intently, but keeps quiet, allowing Sam to finish what he needs to say.

"From the minute I saw that blood, the only thought in my head…" Sam can't quite finish that sentence, skips over it to get to the crux of his point, avoiding looking at his brother's face. "And I tell myself it's for the right reasons, that my intentions are good, and it feels true, you know? But I think, underneath…I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds. Which means I know how messed up I am. Thing is – problem's not the demon blood, not really. What I did, I can't blame the blood or Ruby or anything. The problem is me. How far I'll go. There's something in me. Scares the hell out of me, Dean. In the last couple days I caught another glimpse."

The problem is me, how far I'll go – there's something in me, scares the hell out of me. Way back in season one's Devil's Trap, Dean said something very similar: For you or Dad, the things I'm willing to do or kill, it just – it scares me sometimes. Both brothers have been surrounded by violence for much of their lives and have grown up to be violent men in certain circumstances, but while Dean has been aware of his inner darkness for some time now, Sam has never really faced up to his before – certainly never before acknowledged it as part of who he is, instead focusing on external factors by way of excuse. Throughout season two, for example, he dreaded becoming evil, but what he believed was that the Yellow-Eyed Demon would flip some kind of switch and force that change on him from the outside rather than it coming from within himself, and throughout season four we saw him blaming his inner darkness on the demon blood in his veins, using it as an excuse with which to justify and absolve his darker impulses, rather than admit to having made an active choice of his own free will.

Now, though, Sam appears to be beginning to recognise his own flaws, which is an enormously important first step toward taking full responsibility for his actions and choices. Here in the early days of recovery he is especially vulnerable, as the euphoric highs of the addiction are replaced by cold harsh reality, which is one hell of a come down. Unhappy as he is, weighed down by the magnitude of his guilt, the illusion of control offered by the demon blood is enormously appealing, and this episode has revealed that danger to him. Only by confronting the issues within himself that led to his errors in judgement – the reasons he craves that control in the first place, for example – can he truly be sure of not repeating them. Recognising that he has a real problem and that he needs to take a step back in order to deal with it is a hugely responsible step in the right direction, and I am enormously proud of him for it.


I have to add, however, that where his conflict with Dean in this episode is concerned, Sam is still missing the point slightly. He is still, understandably perhaps, focused almost wholly on the demon blood, reasoning that Dean was right not to trust him around demons because the nature of addiction means that he can't yet necessarily be trusted not to relapse in spite of understanding how wrong it would be. On that note, this little speech here demonstrates more self-awareness than we have seen in Sam in a long time. However, as well as self-awareness, he also needs to develop rather better awareness of his brother (and, more to the point, what he did to his brother last season) if they are to rebuild a healthier relationship from the wreckage of the old. He needs to get to a point where he can not just say 'you were right not to trust me because I can't necessarily be trusted yet', looking inward, but also look outward and acknowledge that Dean was equally justified in not trusting him because he has proved himself untrustworthy, and that he must invest time and effort in repairing that damage instead of getting angry with Dean for not being able to get over it yet.

It may seem petty of me to keep harping on about it, criticising Sam repeatedly for being so aggressively defensive in this episode, but it is important to me that this issue is addressed because until then it is likely to keep arising, for example if Dean is still struggling to regain his faith in Sam once Sam has again decided that the blood addiction has been resolved to his own satisfaction. The issue of whether or not Sam can be trusted isn't just about Sam recovering and thus removing his reason for lying, but is also about Sam repairing the damage he has caused, which takes a lot more than simply saying sorry and hoping or expecting that everything will then go back to normal. Sam needs to understand and accept, quite separate from whether or not he has recovered from his addiction, that Dean will be unable to fully trust him until he has proved beyond a shadow of doubt that his word can be relied on once more, however painstaking that process might be, because until that happens their relationship is likely to remain on rocky ground.

Dean regards his brother gravely and thoughtfully and there is not so much as a hint of judgement in either his face or his voice as he quietly asks what Sam is saying.


"I'm in no shape to be hunting," Sam concludes, and it is a very honest self-appraisal, laying himself completely bare before his brother in earnest hope of winning his understanding. "I need to step back, 'cause I'm dangerous. Maybe it's best we just…go our separate ways."

Sam is shuffling nervously in his seat and flicking anxious little half-glances toward Dean now, trying to gauge his reaction without looking too closely for fear of what he might see. Dean has an abandonment complex the size of Alaska and Sam knows that, so it is important to him that Dean understands that this is about recovery, not rejection. Having recognised that he really does have a problem that is interfering with his life on all levels, Sam has also recognised that he needs to remove himself from the situation that created that problem in order to fully assess and resolve it, allowing himself time and space to heal, even if it means splitting up with his brother. The events of this episode have demonstrated clearly that until both brothers have begun to heal as individuals, they will remain unable to repair their relationship, so that is what Sam is proposing. It isn't about running away from Dean and it isn't about running away from the Apocalypse, but rather acknowledging that until he resolves his problems he will be a potential liability in that fight, and also accepting that this is something he has to do by himself, for himself – rediscovering who he really is simply is not something Dean can help him with, even if it were possible for Dean to walk away from anti-Apocalyptic efforts at the moment.

Dean looks away and thinks for a long, hard moment, closes his eyes as if in pain, more than a little shattered that they have come to this, but then steels his nerve, although he can't look at his brother as he replies. "Well, I think you're right."


Man, the brutal honesty of this scene is amazing, from both brothers.

Sam is surprised. He thinks he is right, too, but that Dean should let him go without as much as a word of argument hits him hard. "I was expecting a fight," he admits, dismayed, because Dean has never let Sam go without a fight, and however much Sam believes that this is the right thing to do, a part of him still wanted his big brother to reassure him of their continued bond by arguing against such a separation, the way he always has in the past.

But Dean, too, has been forced to change and grow as a result of everything that has happened. He would never have proposed this separation himself, not least for fear that such a suggestion might be taken as rejection and drive Sam away, but now that Sam himself has stepped up and taken responsibility, Dean is prepared to acknowledge the truth of what Sam has said: that Sam has a problem, that Sam is the only one who can deal with that problem, and that as things stand this means that they will be better off apart for a time.

"Truth is I spent more time worried about you than about doing the job right," Dean admits, his turn to be brutally honest, however much it hurts – and it does, it hurts them both, but that doesn't mean that it shouldn't be said. They can't keep burying their heads in the sand. Confronting this head on is the only way it will ever be resolved. "I just, I can't afford that, you know? Not now."

Neither brother suggests that they both stop hunting together for a while, if Sam isn't fit to be hunting, both because that wouldn't actually help Sam deal with his problems and because it really isn't an option for Dean at the moment. They are both too fractured to be able to help one another right now. No one can help Sam overcome his problems except Sam himself; there is nothing Dean can do to help him recover from his blood addiction, and while Sam is focused on his own very essential healing he will remain unable to effectively build bridges with Dean. Not to mention that Dean is right at the forefront of the Apocalypse and cannot walk away from that responsibility even for Sam's sake, and Sam both appreciates that and can see his brother's strength now where he couldn't just a matter of days now – where even Dean himself couldn't just a few days ago. They have come so far already.

It saddened me to see fandom deeply polarised in the wake of this episode, most viewers apparently concluding either that Dean completely hates Sam and he deserves it or that Sam is badly hard done by and Dean is being unreasonable. Neither is true. This might be painful development, for them as much as for us, but it is earned and it is healthy and is therefore immensely satisfying. They can never again be who they once were, Dean said at the end of the last episode – but rather more to the point, they shouldn't be who they once were. Who they were was incredibly screwed up, their co-dependence intensely unhealthy, and they both know it. What we see here is recognition of that fact and a deliberate attempt to break out of those negative behavioural patterns and establish something new. For the very first time they are separating not in anger but in love, understanding that they are in very different places at the moment and that each has very different needs, and thus they are able to let one another go in peace, albeit also in sorrow for all that has fallen between them. As a result, they have the opportunity for real growth as individuals and will hopefully be able to come back together much stronger for the separation, able to build a new and healthier relationship – and it is exciting to think that the writers have been brave enough to allow them to take their relationship somewhere new like this, allowing them to learn from the pain they have suffered over the last few seasons, instead of automatically reverting to their old patterns. I am really proud of them both and look forward to what I hope will be the final outcome of this slow reconciliation process: a truly equal partnership, brothers who are also friends and who choose to work together because they want to and have chosen to, rather than out of any warped sense of obligation or co-dependency.

Sam nods, fighting back tears. "I'm sorry, Dean," he whispers.


"I know you are, Sam," Dean immediately assures him. This isn't about either blame or about judgement, it is about the fact that the brothers are in different places right now, they each need different things, and cannot heal one another this time – they need to heal themselves apart in order to find their way back to one another, better and stronger.

As Sam begins to stand, Dean speaks up again. "Hey. You, uh – want to take the Impala?"


Oh, wow. That is massive, the ultimate gesture of love and fraternity and wonderfully symbolic, and Sam knows it. That car means everything to Dean, his most valuable possession, representing home and security and the last link he has with his father and their shared past. That he is willing to give it away speaks volumes, the mere offer of it telling Sam everything that Dean is unable to actually verbalise – 'I love you' and 'be safe' and 'I am with you' and 'we'll see each other again soon', all wrapped up in this one enormous yet simple and oh so sincere little gesture. Oh, boys. ♥

Having said that, of course, their entire arsenal is in the trunk, and since Dean is going to be hunting and Sam isn't, he needs it rather more than Sam does. But that was entirely beside the point. It is a symbolic gesture of their continued family connection – that car represents home to them both – and it is beautiful.

Sam receives the message loud and clear, but shakes his head and says that it's okay, then stands and walks a few paces away before turning back. "Take care of yourself, Dean," he softly says by way of goodbye.


"Yeah, you too, Sammy," Dean murmurs in the gruff tone that means he is trying really hard to fight back his emotion, and they can still barely look one another in the eye, even now – especially now. It is all too hard and too painful.

Nodding, Sam quietly turns and walks away, retrieves his bags from the Impala, gently runs his hand along her trunk one last time, a silent gesture of goodbye that says everything he, too, is unable to verbalise.


Sam hitches a ride with a caravan just pulling out of the stop, and Dean sits and silently watches his brother leave and my heart breaks for them both all over again.


This is good, right development that will benefit them both – but that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. It is not an ending, however, but a beginning. In the wake of the terrible downward spiral of pain and betrayal that was season four, this is the start of the healing process for both brothers. They need to let each other go in order to find their way back to one another again, having rediscovered how much they both still want to be together. It is likely to take quite some time, still, not to mention no doubt plentiful misunderstanding, slipping and sliding along the way, but this is an important first step in the right direction for them both, allowing them to sweep away the debris of the past in order to build a stable foundation for a new relationship, hopefully stronger and healthier than the old, but similarly based upon mutual love and support. ♥



October 2009


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