Snarky Supernatural Recap: "It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester"

In the “Supernatural”-verse, everyday is Halloween. The Winchesters seek out the scariest creatures and dispatch them with their trademark style. But what would they do when confronted with the very founder of Halloween, Samhain? That is what “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester”, the first Halloween-centric episode since the show’s debut in 2005, poses in a very special episode that takes place on the days surrounding October 31st. Let the slaughterin’ begin!

It’s two days before Halloween in a picturesque, suburban town that clearly loves the holiday. Kids spookify their front yards into haunted cemeteries or and hang homemade ghosts and goblins from trees. Susan Soccer Mom carries a pumpkin and a bucket of Halloween candy into her own festive home furnished by Martha Stewart, judging by the crisp greens and grays of the foyer and kitchen. Inside, Scott Soccer Dad feeds his infant son a vibrantly orange slop that I hope is baby sweet potatoes and not the disgusting strained carrots. They chatter amiably about her trip to the market, and Halloweentown’s mad rush to stockpile candy. Susan tells her husband that he cannot have any of the Halloween candy until after the trick-or-treaters have come and gone. Their conversation is so pathetically boring that I remind myself to never get married and live in the suburbs. She takes her toddler upstairs for a bath. Predictably, the husband sidles over to the enormous bucket of candy and wastes no time eating one. He grunts in satisfaction and grabs a few more pieces. Suddenly, his eyes widen, he puts the candy back in the bucket, and reaches into his mouth, alarmed. For a second, I think I’m watching “CSI: Miami” as the shot switches to a mouth’s…eye view of Scott Soccer Dad’s index finger and thumb tactilely examine the roof of his mouth. His fingers graze a razor blade that was in the candy and has now embedded itself in the roof of his mouth right by his molars. He draws his bloody fingers back before gathering enough courage to it out, which of course, allows blood to flow freely. Immediately, he folds to his knees in pain and spits out another razor blade and splatters the hardwood kitchen floor with crimson. In a series of stylish quick cuts, we see poor Scott Soccer Dad hacking up blood and choking before face-plants on the floor and dies. Susan Soccer Mom must have heard the choking or the thuds for she ventures into the kitchen with the little one, asking her husband what’s wrong. She, of course, finds him dead-eyed on floor and promptly screams while the child she’s holding sucks on his rattle completely unaffected. We fade to black before David Caruso and Sunglasses of Justice arrive.

Kick-ass title card. One day before Halloween. David Caruso and his Sunglasses of Justice have sadly departed, after handing the case over to Fed-Like Sammy and Un-Fed-Like Dean. Sammy’s wonderfully broad shoulders and strong back cut masculine lines in his dark blazer. Dean discreetly canvases the kitchen, searching for any supernatural evidence, while Sammy questions the widow. “So how many razorblades did they find?” He asks. Susan Soccer Mom, despite her customary grieving widow ensemble of dark, shapeless layers, doesn’t seem all that broken up about her husband’s death as she answers Sammy, “two on the floor, one in his stomach, and one was stuck in his throat. He swallowed for of them, how is that even possible?” Fed-Like Sammy makes an adorable face that screams, “if you only knew.” Both Fed-Like Sammy and Susan Soccer Mom turn their heads to gawk at Un-Fed-Like Dean as he noisily examines the oven. “The candy was never in the oven,” Susan snipes. “We just have to be thorough, Ms. [Soccer Mom].” Fed-Like Sammy asks if there were razorblades in the rest of the candy, but Susan says there wasn’t. Un-Fed-Like Dean rummages through the fridge, which the candy definitely wasn’t in, but he’s just looking for some beer tenderloin to swipe for later. The widow continues to not have a nervous breakdown about her husband’s terrible demise and answer Sammy’s questions while Dean sees fresh scuffmarks on the floor, indicating that the fridge had recently been moved. He discovers a hexbag behind it. Behind the widows back, he shows it to Fed-Like Sammy, who immediately adjusts his line of questioning to see if Scott Soccer Dad had any enemies who may be female, because they suspect a witch was responsible for the murder. Susan Soccer Mom, of course, is outraged, and then points out the obvious, “if someone wanted to kill my husband, don’t you think they’d find a better than that a razor in a piece of candy he might eat?” And scene!

Motel room. I have realized with great sadness that “Supernatural” has stopped creating the over-the-top theme motel rooms. In the past, the boys always checked into hotel rooms that were as refreshingly tacky as they were impeccably designed. I still covet the trippy, psychedelic, black and white wallpaper from the ‘70s disco room in “Provenances.” This season has opted to use the same two layouts, even the same table by the window and just change the flooring, bedspreads and walls. I’m sure it saves money for more important things, like Jensen Ackles’ mascara or Jared Padalecki’s big and tall wardrobe, but those tasteless hotel rooms will be missed! This room, however, is still visually offensive with its red and black-checkered floor, green couch and purple crushed velvet bedspreads. But I digress, a lot. Sorry. Dean enters the motel enthusiastically opening Halloween candy. Sammy sits on a vibrantly green couch, engrossed in his research on the contents of the hexbag. “Really, after that guy choked down all those razorblades?” Sammy questions. With his mouth full, Dean shrugs with a groovy, “it’s Halloween, man.” “For us, every day is Halloween.” “Don’t be a downer,” Dean says. Straight-Laced Exposition Sammy proceeds to totally bring the room down by explaining the contents of the hexbag: “Goldthread, an herb that’s been extinct for 200 years; a Celtic coin that’s 600 years old” and “the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby,” Sammy says, referring to the small, blackened object that Dean is currently sniffing and touching. Gross! “Witches, man, they’re so freakin’ skeevy,” Dean recoils with a shudder. His hatred for witches was made known in “Malleus Maleficarum,” and that was before the witch tried to kill him with a torture spell that nearly made him cough up his lungs. “It’s a pretty powerful one to put a bag like this together. More juice than we’ve ever dealt with before,” Sammy says. While Sammy was researching, Dean was investigating the late Scott Soccer Dad. The results: “He was so vanilla that he made vanilla seems spicy. I can’t find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead,” Dean laments.

Cut to the most boring basement Halloween party ever. The basement is as festive as the rest of this Halloween-loving town, but there are only about twelve kids at this bash and no one is dancing, making out or smoking weed. In other words, it’s like all the parties I went to in high school. Two girls, a brunette and a blonde, stroll through the lamefest. The brunette is wearing a slut-tastic nurse outfit, complete with red garter and a red patent leather accents. Her friend, who I immediately recognize as a grown up Abby Devreaux from “Days of our Lives” is wearing the cheapest cheerleading uniform I’ve ever seen. It’s nothing more than a tiny blue pleated skirt and a skimpy tight tee-shirt with a WW and a megaphone emblazed across the bust. Go Team Winchester! And the skanky cheerleader stereotype continues to live on. Abby and Slutty Nurse sidle up to Justin, a kid in a clothes and tireprints across his chest and face, and hope he got into his parents liquor cabinet, but it’s triple-locked. He’s a skinny, awkward kid and brags about how he’s going to get “so baked” at the mausoleum party on Halloween night. Instantly, we see the love triangle. Justin stares at Abby as she laughs and Slutty Nurse laughs too hard at while making eyes at him, “Well, it’s gotta be better than this G-rated ass-fest.” Stop with the pseudo-trendy slang, “Supernatural” and kill someone please, preferably Abby. And it suddenly clicks, Slutty Nurse is wearing a SLUTTY NURSE COSTUME very much like the one our poor, flambéed Jessica Moore wore in the series premiere. She’s toast! Boo! I liked her.

Anyway, Abby boasts that this party isn’t that bad, and she struts over to a tub filled with water and apples, and kneels down, inviting Justin to check out assets (which are about as round and supple as a pancake) and skillfully surfaces with a shiny red apple in her mouth. She bites it while making eyes at Justin. Jealous of the attention Justin is giving only Abby, Jessica 2.0 decides to give it a try. The water-cam shows her trying to complete the task in the same way that Abby did, but the apples bounce away when she bites for them. On the third try, she submerges her entire face in the water. There is a magical woosh on the soundtrack and Jessica 2.0 struggles like some force has locked her underwater. Justin compliments her on her ability to hold her breath. Dumbass. Jessica 2.0 (who’s real name is JENNY) starts flailing, her shoes scrape against the basement floor and her hands open and close against the rim of the tub. Abby and Justin call for help, and tug at her shoulders and hands, trying to get her out of the water before she drowns.

Common sense would tell these kids to knock the tub over or at least scoop the water out so she could breathe. They continue to tug at her and scream as The Tragic Re-Embodiment of Sammy’s Girlfriend fights for her life. What happens next is the strangest, wrongest thing I could ever imagine. The water stars BOILING! That’s right, folks, the tub of water launches into a rolling boil, poaching Jessica 2.0’s pretty face until it is golden brown, flaky and a well-done 212 degrees. Yummo! Underwater, Jessica 2.0 is screaming in agony. Above water, Justin wonders what the hell is going on. Mercifully, Jessica’s 2.0’s hands relax and her feet, strapped into some fetching white heels, go slack and flop against the basement floor. Abby cries as Justin pulls Jessica 2.0 out of the tub, and cradles her in a way that she would forever remembered and cherished if, you know, her face hadn’t just been boiled off. God, I thought drowning was the worst way to go. The show spares us a close up of the carnage. I can’t tell if I’m relieved or disappointed.

Fed-Like Sammy and Un-Fed-Like Dean enter the crime scene. Dean takes one look at the petite blonde “Days of our Lives” album, Abby, puts a hand on Sammy’s chest, and says, “I got this one” and then licks his plump lips. Sammy warns his older brother who has now turned into a dirty old man, because he’s thirty-years-old (if it wasn’t so annoying to type, I’d call Deano Milo Ventimiglia for the remainder of this recap), and is about to hit on a high school cheerleader, “Two words: jailbait.” It’s one word, Sammy. One. “I would never!” Dean barely dredges up faux outrage before Sammy shoots him a prim bitchface with pointedly wide eyes. Dean definitely would and probably has. Eagerly, he approaches her for questioning, while Sammy moves around the basement to search for hexbags. And I need to interject. I love the writer’s decision to subtly hint at Sammy’s past by putting Jessica 2.0 in the slutty nurse costume. I imagine that was blatant choice and point of discussion in the writing room and it was made for a very specific reason. Naturally, I was disappointed when there was no trace of the body at the crime scene, and thus, no chance for Fed-Like Sammy to look at the dead girl in an outfit that is painfully similar to one of the last things his girlfriend wore, and be affected by that for a moment, but “Supernatural” isn’t a soap opera. Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives! The melodramatic reunion of the two “Days” alum is everything I ever thought it would be, complete long-winded declarations of how strong their love is and patented John Black facial expressions. Except it’s really not because Jensen Ackles left the soap opera years before Ashley Benson (Abby) was cast (and eventually replaced because she’s not that great of an actress. She just so happens to be blonde and pretty.) All he does is ask if she knew the late Scott Soccer Dad. She vehemently denies it. Sam finds the hexbag in the couch, and they roll out without any lingering looks of betrayal or suspicion.

Motel. Dean finds that “both of these vics are squeaky clean. There is no reason for wicked bitch payback.” Sammy, with his face buried in a book, suggests that maybe the victims aren’t dying because of revenge, but maybe their deaths are a part of a bigger plan. “’Three blood sacrifices over three days. The last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest.” According to the Celtic calendar, the last day of the harvest being…all together, kids, HALLOWEEN! The witch is slaving over her proverbial cauldron to raise “Samhain” or “Sam Hain” as it’s pronounced on this show, which is fine with me, because I have no clue how you pronounce the traditional spelling that has more unpronounceable symbols than consonants. Although I’m disappointed Dean didn’t make a snarky comment about Sam Hain’s name to Sam. But then I guess since Sammy’s about fifteen episodes from turning evil, it wouldn’t be all that funny. Moving on. After Jared does his adorable lip purse, flashes his dimples, and simply looks gorgeous, Straight-Laced Exposition Sammy continues, “Sam Hain is the damn origin of Halloween. The Celts believed that October 31st was the one night of the year when the veil between was thinnest between the living and the dead. Masks put on to hid from him. Sweets left on doorsteps to appease him. Faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago.” Breathe, Sammy, breathe. Halloween traditions stuck except now it’s about “kids, candy and costumes.”

Dean still isn’t as impressed or as bright-eyed as our Stanford Grad Sammy, “So some witches want to raise Samhain and ‘Take Back the Night?’” Wet Blanket Sammy to the rescue! “Dean, this is serious. We’re talking heavyweight witchcraft. This ritual can only be performed every six hundred years!” And you all know when the 600th anniversary is, right, kids? HALLOWEEN! Good job! You get a gold star. Apparently, once Sammy Hain “is raised, he can do some raisin’ of his own,” which sounds vaguely dirty. “Raising what exactly?” Dean asks. “Dark evil crap, and lots of it.” This line tickled me for no reason. Sammy isn’t so straight-laced during the mandatory exposition of this episode, and the looseness given to the character (FINALLY) makes the scene more fun and compelling. Kudos to writer Julie Siege. I really love when the show takes something firmly rooted in history and use it in the show, with artistic license, of course. And they do that with more than you could ever imagine. “They follow him around like the friggin’ Pied Pipper.” And now we’re no longer talking about Sam Hain, but R Kelly. Can they go after him instead? Dean quizzes Sammy on all that could be raised, which is pretty much everything, and also bashes leprechauns. “Those little dudes are scary, small hands!” He says, holding up a fist. And I’m definitely not touching that one. Annoyed, Sammy breaks it down for his smart ass of an older brother, “It just starts with ghosts and ghouls. By night’s end, we’re talking about every awful thing we’ve ever seen. Everything, we fight, all in one place.” The gravity of the situation finally sinks in on Dean’s pretty, pretty face, but he isn’t as scared as he is intrigued. He gives me some much-needed eye porn by blinking slowly, and declares, “it’s going to be a slaughterhouse.” Yay! Massacre is the new black! The episode is off to a running start, and so is The Battle of the Pretty!

Metallicar. Halloween afternoon. Alone, Dean stakes out the Widow’s Soccer Mom’s house and apparently passed the time by devouring roughly four pounds of Halloween candy, judging by the wrappers covering the front seat. He pops another piece into his mouth, and then adorably clutches his stomach in discomfort. I’ll rub it for you, Dean! Sammy calls to checks in. “I talked to Mrs. Razorblade again. I’ve been sitting outside of her house for hours, and I’ve got a big steaming pile of nothing,” Dean recaps. Sammy is convinced that there has to be some sort of connection between the victims. “Well, I hope we find them soon because I’m starting to cramp like a…sonofabitch!” Hee! Dean’s period is right on time. “Quit whining!” Sam shoots back. “No, Sam, I mean, Son of a bitch!” He corrects as he watches Abby enter Susan Soccer Mom’s house (and walks right past a life-sized ghoul I honestly thought was real person) and takes the infant from her arms.

Moonlight Motel. Sammy is still researching, stretched out on the bed. And after rewinding this part several times, I can honestly report that for Jared Padalecki to actually lounge on the bed, he has to rest his hips all at the head of the bed in order for the nine feet of his legs stretch out to the foot! I notice stupid, inane things like this because I’m a short freak of nature, and I love tall men. Jared Padalecki, and therefore Sammy Winchester, is the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Mama like! Dean enters to the hotel to announce that Abby is the Soccer Family’s babysitter. Dean, a man who lies for a living, is apparently outraged that someone would actually lie to him. Hypocrite, much? “Interesting look for a centuries old witch,” Sam notes. Good news is she’s fair game for Deano, right? “Well if you were a 600-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn’t you go for a hot cheerleader?” Dean asks rhetorically, and then sinks into his dirty old man daydreams. “I would…mhmm.” He imagines that cheerleader doing all sorts of bendy things until Sam gawks at him with a deeply furrowed brow because he’s imagining sesky time with a murdering, demon-raising witch. Sammy’s research uncovered that Abby wasn’t nearly as vanilla as they first imagined. “Apparently, she got into a violent altercation with one of her teachers, got suspended from school.”

Local High School. Fed-Like Sammy and Un-Fed Like Dean stroll into the impressively outfitted high school art room. A variety of exotic and masks of both human and the supernatural masks hang from the ceiling. Dean studies them. The scariest mask looks as f it was carved in stone with severely hooded eyes and a nose, and no mouth. Gooey blood is caked around its orphises, and upon second glance, it looks like a face-meat is melting off the skull like wax off a candle. The camera alternates between tight shots on Dean’s pretty, pretty face and an equally close shot of the mask accompanied with the jarring combination of people screaming and the growl of some kind of monster. Dean’s eyes are large and they narrow slightly as he stares at the mask. “Brings back memories?” Sammy asks. That’s when I realized our poor Dean was having sensory flashbacks of his time in hell. Poor Deano, he suffers from Supernatural Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome (SNPTSD). “What do you mean?” He asks, jerkily looking around. He hides whatever horror he was reliving quite well while still conveying distress to the viewer. This is what critics called a “nuanced performance”, I just called it AWESOME. “Being a teenager, all that angst.” Sammy answers as if their lives are completely angst-free, and they make ice cream for a living. I’ll take the angst of not being able to go to prom over stopping the impending Apocalypse. “What did you think I meant?” Sammy wonders, and grins because he has not a clue as what just happened to Dean. Poor stupid, giant Sammy. Dean shakes his head, “nothing.” He watches a skid-mark free Justin trying to fit a pottery bong into one of the kilns. “Now that brings back memories,” he smirks. “Dude,” Justin says to no one in particular, “I’m gonna need a bigger kiln!” The art teacher enters the room, and is immediately pegged as the Generic Cool Teacher who encourages his students to sculpt pottery bongs and call him by his first name. He’s even wearing the Generic Cool Teacher Uniform: button down shirt, blazer and jeans. Don expresses remorse about Abby’s suspension, but says that if another teacher hadn’t walked by Abby would have “clawed his eyes out” because he “just wanted to rap with her about her work. Yeah, he actually said “rap” because in this town, it’s still 1995. “It had gotten inappropriate and disturbing.” Dean scoffs, and points to the rows of scary masks, “more disturbing than those guys?” “She would color page after page of these bizarre Celtic symbols.” This catches Sammy’s attention. “And then were the drawings: detailed images of killings—gory, primitive--and she would depict herself in the middle of them, participating.” This is a double DUN! The symbols were Celtic, matching the engravings on the ancient coins found in the hexbags and he establishes a pattern for “primitive” violence in Abby’s past. We all know demons love dispatchin’ folks old school style. The teacher goes onto to tell our boys that Abby was an “emancipated teen” with her own apartment. Oh, did anyone find it odd that the teacher specifically identified the coins as Celtic? I did. Hmm.

Motel Exterior. The Metallicar rumbles into the empty parking lot of the Moonlight Motel. Sammy and Dean return from trying to find Abby, but no one seems to know where she is. Dean complains, “it’s like the bitch hopped a broomstick.” Sam conveys the importance of finding her, because the third sacrifice could happen anytime. A rather large child in an elaborate astronaut costume approach the Winchesters with a polite “trick-or-treat.” “This is a motel,” Dean says, “We don’t have any candy.” Dean, the greedy, bow-legged heathen who is literally taking candy from a baby, cuts Sammy off when he begins to say they have a ton of it in the Metallicar. “We did but it’s gone,” he snaps. “Sorry, kid, we can’t help ya.” The camera switches to the child’s point of view, shooting through the helmet of his costume as Dean says, “I want candy.” “Well, I think you’ve had enough,” Dean says to the brat. And yes, he probably needs a nutritionist more than a Nestle’s Crunch, but you can’t say that to kids! The kid glares at Dean and actually bumps his shoulder as he angrily waddles off in his cumbersome costume. Dean looks at him and spreads his arms out, hilariously ready to rumble with a nine-year-old.

Sammy enters the dark hotel room and instantly draws his gun on two unseen figures, who have somehow broken into their room. Honestly when are they going to start booby-trapping the door? The camera slides to the right, to the right to reveal…HOLY MOTHER OF MARY WINCHESTER…it’s Castiel perched on the edge of one of the beds. His face is holds an expression of infinite anguish, and his large eyes are a beautiful crystalline blue, but incredible sadness or maybe guilt? Dean runs in, “Sam, wait! That’s Castiel, the angel.” After three seasons of Sammy being a bit wary about using weapons, and being the more sensitive of the two he finally mans up to the trigger-happy plate and ends up drawing down on an angel. Hee! Dean pushes Sam’s gun down and eyes as another figure in the corner. In a simple, but ridiculously stunning shot, a man who challenges Sammy in the Tall, Dark and Handsome competition, stands stoically in front of the white chiffon curtains in a black suit, back to the boys…and angel. “Him, I don’t know.” We know from “Houses of the Holy” that Sammy has a great deal of faith, and eyes the two figures in the room with unabashed slack-mouthed wonderment of a child on Christmas morning. Aww! “Oh, my God!” Sammy gasps, dumbfounded. He quickly stumbles to apologize for using the Lord’s name in vain. Sam steps forward, thrilled. “It’s an honor. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he extends his hand for Castiel to shake. Castiel seems hesitant and regards his hand like it’s coated in angelic kryptonite, but he eventually shakes it. “And I you,” he replies in a voice that is deep and rich and a pleasure to listen to through headphones. Ever since Ruby 2.0 challenged Sam about him not fearing the angels, I wondered if they would ever meet and how such a meeting would go down. Out of the 513 scenarios I concocted, I never thought that Castiel would simply offer polite salutations. “Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood,” he announces pointing out the irony of their meeting. There, that’s more like it. Castiel gently shakes his hand and places his left hand ontop of his. After watching this fabulous scene many, many times, I cannot pinpoint why he did it. Is that how angels shake hands? Is he trying to gage Sam’s faith like he did with Dean in the season premiere? Does he see how much Sam believes in him? I honestly have no clue, but it’s an important gesture nonetheless. “Glad to hear you’ve ceased your…extracurricular activities.” “Let’s keep it that way,” Tall, Dark and Rude says his back still facing the group. He has yet to introduce himself. Poor Giant Sammy now feels like more of a freak than he ever has.

Dean frowns, “Who’s your friend?” Castiel ignores him. “This raising of Sam Hain, have you stopped it?” The angel asks Sam. “Why?” Dean asks. “Dean, have you located the witch?” “Yes, we’ve located the witch,” Dean answers, irritably. “And is the witch dead?” “We know who it is,” Dean says, subscribing to the glass-half-full philosophy for the first time in his life…both of them. “Apparently the witch knows who you are too,” he produces a hexbag. “This was inside the wall of your room. If we haven’t found it, surely one or both of you would be dead.” I need to interject for a moment. After Dean’s last encounter with the mostly harmless witches in “Malleus Maleficarum” that involved an extremely well hidden hexbag and Dean in excruciating pain and Sammy almost meeting his maker (again), why on earth do they not take extra precautions to protect themselves? Stupid boys. Back to the action. Dean reiterates that they don’t know where the witch is right now, and Castiel methodically says, “That’s unfortunate.” He announces that the raising of Sam Hain is another one of the sixty-six seals that need to be broken so Lucifer can walk free. “The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs,” Castiel says. Dean shrugs, “Okay, great. Why don’t you tell us where the witch is, we’ll gank her and everybody goes home,” Dean simplifies. “We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful. She’s cloaked even our methods,” Castiel explains. Sammy pipes in that they should work together, and Tall, Dark and Rude finally decides to come out and play. “Enough of this!” He yells. “Who are you and why should I care?” Dean snaps back. “This is Uriel. He’s what you might call…a specialist.” Castiel ominously introduces. Crap, that can’t be good. Uriel turns around, and sadly looks much older than I imagined like a veteran gangster who is desensitized to pretty much everything, except anger. “What are you going to do?” Dean questions. There is underlying fear in his voice and you know that he truly doesn’t want to know the answer. “Both of you need to leave this town immediately,” Castiel advises, “because we’re about to destroy it.” And that, my friends, is a motherfuckin’ DUN!

We return from commercial break, and all four men are standing in the checkered floor like living chess pieces. And I will note that Castiel is huddled with the boys while Uriel is standing on five feet away. “So that’s your plan, you’re going to smite the whole friggin’ town?” “We’re out of time. This witch has to die. The seal must be saved,” Castiel explains. “There are a thousand people here,” Sammy implores. And wow does his hair look really, really good. “One thousand two hundred and fourteen,” Uriel coldly corrects. “And you’re willing to kill them all?” Sammy gasps in horror. Uriel is unfazed by the idea. “This isn’t the first time I’ve…purified a city.” This angel has a unique, almost lyrical cadence to his deep, deep voice that makes him quirkily creepy. I forgot to mention that our new angel is black and bald. The part of me who took that damn Media Studies class in college and simply cannot turned off what I learned, wants to point out that he is doing a fantastic job of reinforcing the Intimidating Black Man stereotype TV loves so much. The part of me that’s a snarky recapper tells the other part to shut the hell up. “I understand this is regrettable. We have to hold the line, too many seals have been broken already,” Castiel says. “It’s the lives of 1,000 versus of lives of 6 billion. There’s a bigger picture here.” Needless to say, the tension in the hotel room steadily rises as decisions are being made that will somehow affect the future of the entire world. Sammy, who has just encountered the angels, currently reels quietly as the weight grows on his ridiculously broad shoulders. “Right, ‘cause you’re bigger picture kinda guys,” Dean snarks, which is dumb, because they really are. Castiel, who is probably all of 5’8’’, steps forward and does the Tough Guy Eskimo Kiss with Dean, and he still has to look up. There’s no way he could pull that crap with Sammy without a step ladder. “Lucifer cannot rise. He does and hell…rises…with him.” Castiel’s face twitches when he utters the word “hell” as if it causes him physical paid to say it. “Is that something you’re willing to risk?” Dean is speechless. But he senses that Castiel could be a contender for The Battle For The Pretty For This Episode, and licks his lips to prevent that from happening. Well played! Sammy cuts in, and he promises that they’ll kill the witch and protect the seal. Uriel is bored and wants to commence with the smiting. “We’re wasting time with these mud-monkeys.” Media Studies Kira and Recapper Kira think it’s effin’ AWESOME that a black man refers to the human race as (mud)monkeys, a known slur for black men, and that it got on network television. Sammy winces at Uriel’s derogatory term for human life. And I pretty much want to kiss his badass bald head.

“I’m sorry, but we have our orders.” Castiel says. Sammy’s is at his wit’s end. “But you can’t do this…y-you’re ANGELS.” Uriel laughs at him. It’s obvious that Sam, like most people, subscribes the homogenized and pasteurized Hallmark school of thought and believes that angels embody mercy and grace, wear shapeless white robes and communicate with humans through grand acts of benevolence. Biblically, angels are God’s Warriors who protect His creations through a mighty smiting, and those are the kind of angel “Supernatural” wisely has decided to use. The power of this storyline lies in the dichotomy between the two vastly different beliefs. So, we understand when Sammy’s divine disappointment morphs into holy indignation. “You’re supposed to show mercy!” “Says who?” Uriel smirks. God, this angel is an asshole. I love him. Castiel, now gazing away from Dean with his beautiful eyes, assures Dean that he has no choice. Dean argues that of course they have a choice, “You never questioned a crap order? What are you, just a couple of hammers?” Castiel’s decidedly un-cherubic face tightens with contained anger. “Even if you can’t understand it, have faith. The plan is just. It comes from Heaven.” Castiel continues to drive his point home and aligns his need to follow orders with Dean’s obedience to Papa Winchester. “Tell me something, Dean. When your father gave you an order, you obey?” Bad move, Castiel. Dean’s hero worship for John Winchester died the second he told him he had to off his baby brother. Dean’s face never flinches or changes, but that question pushes Dean to play a card of his own, and we immediately know it. “Sorry, boys, it looks like the plans have changed.” “You think you can stop us?” Uriel scoffs. “No, but if you’re going to smite this town, then you’re going to have to smite us with it, because we’re not leaving.” Sammy’s all “Um, I want to leave! I’ve died before too, and it kinda sucks.” Well, okay, not really. Dean approaches Uriel, unafraid. “You went to the trouble of busting me out of hell, I figure I’m worth something to the man upstairs. Go ahead, see how he digs that!” “I will drag you out of here myself,” Uriel promises. “Yeah but you’ll have to kill me. I mean, come on, you’re going to wipe out a whole town for one little witch? Sounds like you’re overcompensating for something!” ZING! That’s the Dean Winchester I love…intense, determined, with a popped collar and offering up his life for the greater good. “We can do this!” He says, channeling Notre Dame’s Rudy, because they are extreme underdogs, but they’ve accomplished more with less. “We will find that witch, and we will stop the summoning!” Dean’s brazen disrespect has finally ruffled Uriel’s feathers (HEE!) and he is about to go off on the elder Winchester, but Cas reigns him in. “I suggest you move quickly.” CHECKMATE.

Exterior of motel. The Metallicar has been defiled, streaked with a gloppy white substance that looks more like paint than eggs. Silently, Dean surveys the damage, pauses to keep himself from tearing the hotel apart to throttle a pudgy nine-year-old, and rages, “ASTRONAUT!” through the empty parking lot. And it’s kind of sexy. His jaw is clenched and his nostrils are flared and I really wish this moment last a lot longer, but it doesn’t. Dean, still seething, gets into the car where Sam is fidgeting the hexbag and broodily quiet. Sam confesses that he thought the angels would be different, “righteous,” and Dean’s positively sparkle as he says, “They are…that’s kind of the problem. Of course, there’s nothing more dangerous than an a-hole who thinks he’s on a holy mission,” and we know that that is a pointed statement. Hee! Sammy remains understandably morose, “I mean this is God and heaven? This is what I’ve been praying to?” He wonders pessimistically. And we feel for him, because he’s seen tremendous evil, and needed to believe that angels and heaven were as divinely good as demons and hell are fiendisly bad. And Castiel and Uriel just destroyed that belief, and further grayed Sammy’s black and white philosophies. Ever the big brother, Dean does his best to reaffirm Sam’s faith while establishing a bit of his own. “Look, man, I know you’re into the whole God thing—Jesus on a tortilla and all that—just because there’s two bad apples doesn’t mean the whole barrel’s rotten. Don’t give up on this stuff. Babe Ruth was a dick but baseball’s still a beautiful game,” he argues in a way that is unusually patient for our Deano. But it fails on me because I think baseball is a stupid game. Sammy half-smiles as he plays with the charred infant’s metacarpal bone from the hexbag, but doesn’t say anything, which irritates me. Does Jared Padalecki have a clause in his contract that limits the amount of words he can say per episode? “You gonna find a way to track down this witch or are you just going to sit there fingerin’ your bone?” Dean snarks. Hee! Wet Blanket Sammy again has no smartass reply to that. I grit my teeth. Does Jared Padalecki have a clause in his contract that limits the amount of words he can say per episode? For an episode that’s supposed to center on Sammy’s crisis of faith (which is a very clever first step of Sammy’s step toward Darth Sammy) and the anniversary of his girlfriend’s death, he was written as blandly as he as been in previous episodes. Anyway, he realizes that it would take an extreme amount of heat to char the bone, something hotter than your average oven, something like the kilns in the high school art room.

The next scene is really boring, so I summarize. Straight-Laced Exposition Sammy points out that the hexbag didn’t show up in their room until they spoke with Don, the cool teacher, not after they spoke with Abby, who they first suspected. Sammy finds a locked drawer, breaks it open with a HAMMER and finds a bowl full of uncharred bones of children. Creepy. But it means the witch performing the summoning is a none other than Don, the dude-witch.

In one of many artful and lush shots, we cut to adorable trick-or-treaters moving down a misty path littered with giant trees. Uriel and Castiel sit near a bench, watching the Norman Rockwell-ian image unfold. “The decision’s been made.” Castiel says, indicating that we’re joining them in the middle of a conversation. “By a mud-monkey. What? That’s what they are,” Uriel gripes,” just plumbing on two legs.” Strangely, it’s not that hard to me believe that angels, who were seemingly created to protect humans, don’t exactly love their “savage” charges, especially since they have a bird’s eye view of the wars and the ethnic cleansing and the Republican National Committee. “There’s a reason we were sent to save him. He has potential, he may succeed here.” Castiel says. “Either way, it’s out of our hands.” Castiel suggests that they can go rogue, get Dean to safety and “wipe this insignificant pinprick off the map.” “You know our true orders. Are you prepared to disobey?” Um, DUN? What are their true orders? I hope it’s to smite that heinous beige jacket Sammy wears all the time. THAT thing is pure evil!

Trick-or-treaters flood Halloweentown. A mother-daughter pair of classic witches—pointy hat, stringy hair, and black robes—move by a darkened home that belongs to none other than Don, the dude-witch. Very cute! In the basement, MIA Abby is gagged and bound with her arms above her head. I don’t know if that’s a DUN! or not, but I’d prefer that he killed her as to spare me the torture or recapping her upcoming villain soliloquy. After a “Matrix”-y slide jump-slide that is needless, but cool, we find Dude-witch is performing an incantation over a dark alter. And he’s going to sacrifice recently vindicated Abby in order for Sam Hain to rise. Yay! I have not idea what language it is and I’m not going to waste hours googling to find out. It’s Witch-ease. Another “Matrix”-y slide jump and Dude-witch does the Standardized Evil Knife Torture and gingerly glides the blade around her neck and down her breasts sadistically as she shudders and cringes and cries. That shit’s not even scary because he’s doing it wrong! Get Evil Sammy to show you how to do it! Just as he raises the knife, a bullet blasts through his chest just below his collarbone, followed by another, then another. And you’ll never guess who killed him. Nope, it’s not Sarah Palin who mistook him for a moose or even Dick Cheney who mistook him for a Democrat. It is our very own Trigger-Happy Sammy! Dude-witch faceplants onto the cement floor below, dead. Now it’s time for Abby to show us all why she was booted from “Days of our Lives” and has to settle for throwaway bit parts. Take it away, Abby! She flings off her gag and shrilly faux-rages, “that sick sonofabitch!” Um, sweetie, the Magic Winchester Catchphrase doesn’t work for shitty actors. While I grit my teeth in the effort to fight not to fast forward, she reveals that she is in fact a witch by sneering, “did you hear how sloppy his incantation was?” Jensen Ackles, who was wincing at Abby’s thin, squeaky voice and unflatteringly blonde hair, remembers to react to this moment. Oh yeah, dude-witch was her brother so Don’s attack was nothing more than witch-sibling rivalry. Her speechifying screams of my high school drama club monologue except worse (and I was one of three kids who didn’t make it). Sammy and Dean attempt to unholster their guns, but Abby curses them with the binding spell all men fear: Cruciatius Crampyolis! Our poor heroes are thrown to the floor, unable to move or stop her from raising Sam Hain because they are doubled over with the DEE-MONIC Menstral Cramps of Doom! Hurts, don’t it? Sammy and Dean writhe in agony as Abby monologues hating her brother, but putting up with him for 600 years, blah blah yada yada snore. She collects blood from his corpse in her first edition pimp cup, continues with the incantation. I want to move on with the action so much that I’m not even going to question how a 600 year-old witch would be killed by three bullets or, in a few minutes, a simple neck snap.

Sammy, blinded by cramps and probably hankerin’ for a tub of ice cream, can’t stop her, so he crawls over to the corpse of Dude-witch, places his oversized mit into a pool of his blood and SMEARS IT ALL OVER HIS FACE? Okay, I’ve heard of some exotic facials, especially in Hollywood, but I can’t see that catching on. Dean asks what he’s doing. “Follow my lead,” Sammy deftly and enthusiastically paints Dean’s face in witch blood, and then flops on his back to play possum. The floor begins to rumble as Abby finishes the reverse exorcism and then it cracks, shifting tectonically as the demon-black smoke rises from hell and tornadoes into the corpse of her brother. I don’t really care what happens next because the next sequence is so fucking badass that I will super-summarize. Sam Hain is an ice-blue eyed, eerily quiet demon (that looks nothing like the ram-horned man-beast in the pictures we saw during the initial exposition) who snaps Abby’s neck for no reason. He is also in dire need of a trip to Lenscrafters, because his vision is extremely blurry. He sees the limp bodies of Sammy and Dean, faces covered in a makeshift mask of blood, in a muddled fashion and steps over them. Once he leaves, Sammy recounts Halloween lore, “people used to wear masks to hide from him” and he “gave it a shot.” Dean’s all “you gave it a shot?!” Hee. Done.

Sam Hain evilly walks through the streets of Halloweentown, and perceives the throngs of trick-or-treats as actual demons and other devilish creatures. Sammy and Dean scrub the blood off their now rejuvenated and pore-free faces, and figure out that the best place to start raising nightmare things would be the cemetery. They tear off in the Metallicar, and Sam uses this time to strategize. “So this demon’s pretty powerful,” he bushbeats. “Might take more the usual weapons.” Dean immediately clues in one what he’s suggesting and shuts him down. “Sam, no, you’re not using your psychic whatever. Don’t even think about it. Ruby’s knife is enough.” Dean makes some surprisingly good points about why he shouldn’t use them: the angels warned him not to, and just a few weeks ago, after dispatching our very own human-sushi loving Ruguaru, Sammy admitted that using his powers were like “playing with fire.” Sam argues that the angels don’t seem to be right about anything, even though they just saved their lives by finding the hexbag and resurrected his brother, but Sammy’s struggling with the reality of the angels, so I forgive him for that. Dean tells him to take the knife, and actually says “please.” Sammy, like you and I, can’t fight Dean’s sparkly green eyes, so he begrudgingly takes it. But I can tell by the look on Sammy’s gorgeous face that he has no intention of listening to Dean, but he will at least humor him. Dean’s critical sideways glance tells us the he is aware of the same thing.

Badass Sequence of Badassness. In a pleasing move of continuity, Sam Hain heads to the mausoleum and finds the kick ass Halloween party. The partygoers aren’t actually dressed as scary creatures, but slutty nurses, sailors, aristocrats, and superheroes. And there’s a lesson here: slutty costumes may be fun, but they’ll get you killed, kids! Guest star Don McManus has no actual dialogue, but does a fantastic job of making Sam Hain wickedly skincrawling. He slinks down the stairs and sees Skid Mark Justin and about twenty others in their wack costumes. He wordlessly closes the gate, smirking in a way that cannot be good for the teeagers. Skid Mark Justin recognizes his art teacher’s meat suit and panics. He is confused when he locks them in, and probably thinks he is keeping them there and notifying their parents. Sam Hain quietly away, trailing his fingers along the locked gate of the crypt. Suddenly, the cement lids housing the deceased vibrate and shake. The kids scream and move away from the shaking drawers. Skid Mark Justin backs away from the coffins in front of him. Behind him, an unidentifiable, scary bald creature pushes the cement grate off his grave, whips him inside the grave by his ankles, and juices him like a Florida Orange. An abundance of bloody pulp splatters out of the grave and poor young Skid Mark Justin is reduced to…well, a skid mark? Very clever! The kids now bang and shake the locked gate as Sammy and Dean arrive before the slaughterin’ can truly begin. I hate them! “Help them,” Sammy says, backing up. “Dude, you’re not going off alone!” “Do it,” Sammy orders and he runs off in search of Sam Hain. Dean blows off the lock with his pretty, pearl-handled gun, and orders the kids out. He steps into the crypt as two more cement grates shatter on the ground. Two corpses slither out of their tombs and dumbly stand upright. These are classic zombies, folks, not the rage-happy chick who broke Sam’s wrist from “Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things.” They shuffle forward like lemmings searching for braaaaains. And hey, it’s our very own Scott Soccer Dad! He’s back. And decomposing. Dean brandishes a metal stake, and engages, “Bring it on, stinky!” Only Jensen Ackles could make THAT line kick-ass.

Sammy, in that fucking heinous beige jacket, determinedly searches for Sam Hain in the halls of the elaborate mausoleum. Sam Hain is in another room, assumingly trying to raise more hell, which is strangely taking longer than it did before. Sammy narrows his pretty eyes at the back of Sam Hain. This is when I notice Jared Padalecki’s eyebrows are perfectly arched. And it’s weird. Because he’s a dude. After the Witch Blood Facial, did Jared get his eyebrows threaded by a gremlin? Anyway, Sam Hain whirls around and tries to vanquish Sammy with that nuclear burst of white light. The white light gobbles up Sammy, and eventually the entire screen. The light fades, revealing Sammy advancing unarmed and unscathed with a cocky swagger that’s hotter than anything really should be and also lets me know that he’s done this shit before back when Dean was dead. “Yeah, that demon ray gun stuff doesn’t work on me.” Sam Hain charges, enraged. Let the Sam vs. Sam Smackdown BEGIN! From Hain’s garbled point of view, Sammy awesomely launches an uppercut to Sam Hain’s chin and decks him with his left, then right. I LOVE THIS FREAKING SHOW! And Sammy Winchester’s Rating of Badassery just soared to 8.4! I swear I will never tease him for wearing that damn jacket again! Oh wait, Sam Hain blocks Sammy’s next punch and starts wailing on him like one of the drunk bitches from “The Bad Girls’ Club.” And seconds later, Sammy’s Rating of Badassery plummets to a dismal 5.7 because—surprise—Sammy’s getting choked!

Cut to mausoleum. Dean is violently subduing Stinky Scott Soccer Day just out of frame. Seconds later, the dead un-dead thing falls into frame with a metal stake in his belly. Dean expertly shoves it through him, thus pinning to his grave bed. Sort of. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees bony feet in some hideous stiletto heels venture towards him. Quickly, he snatches another stake from his knapsack, and jumps up to dispatch her, but she flickers like a malfunctioning hologram, disappears, and pops up behind him. She’s not a zombie. She’s a GHOST! And I understand why! She needs to haunt whoever buried her in those fugly shoes. Before Dean can react, she telepathically flings him into a wall and disappears again. “Zombie-ghost orgy, huh? Well that’s it, I’m torching everybody.” Scrappy Doo decides. He’s such a Pyro. And wait! Hold the phone. Dean promised me a slaughterhouse. So far, we have one human skid mark and a ventilated art teacher. Slaughterhouses require a six-corpse minimum! This is an outrage!

Yawn. Sammy’s still getting choked. He produces The Knife from his jacket pocket. How he managed to fight with it in his packet without shanking himself, I’ll never know. I’ve always thought the Winchesters were like the immortals from “Highlander,” and they have magic coats that store their weapons safely, regardless of the size. One day Sammy will pull a bazooka from his pants. Sammy attempts to stab Sam Hain with it, but the vile demon blocks that too. It does, however, shallowly slice his arm, which electrically pops and flickers with escaping life. Angrily, he bats The Knife away. And even SAM knows he’s about to be chucked across the room like the neighbor’s cat, and has mastered a magnificent “I’m about to hit a wall” expression. Seconds later, he does indeed careen into the stone wall. Now, Sammy is unarmed and overpowered. He scrambles to his feet, anticipating the demon’s next move. Sam Hain doesn’t hesitate to bumrush him. Reflexively and instinctively, Sammy lifts his hand, thinks real hard and stops him in his tracks. Sam Hain hits Sam’s telekinetic force field like an unseen brick wall, and is utterly baffled by it. And I am too, because he’s never done that before! What else can he do?! He dumbly pushes against the invisible thing holding him back as Sam cringes, but keeps his concentration. Sam Hain struggles helplessly as wisps of demonic black smoke seep from the three bullet holds in Dude-witch’s meat suit! And that is so freakin’ cool! Incensed, Sam Hain throws all of his evil power at Sam, whose face is painfully twisted in the mental effort it takes to keep the demon at bay. Both Sam and Sam Hain are digging into their reserves, hitting their opponents with everything they have and more. Sam Hain inches closer, feet sliding against the floor. Sammy holds his ground.

Dean rounds the corner, orange flicker of flames from the fire in the crypt reflecting off the far wall behind him. He deflates with heartbreak and disappointment as he discovers Sam working his mojo on Sam Hain. The brothers share a loaded look before Sam pulls his eyes away to finish the job. Sam Hain animalistically fights, engaged in the weirdest game of supernatural tug o’ war. Sammy’s head bursts with agony as he pushes his power farther than he’s ever taken it before. He grabs his head and the camera moves in tight as Sam’s NOSE STARTS TO BLEED. His face changes from one contorted in agony to superiorly wicked as if he finally gained control of the unadulterated energy pumping out of him, and he likes it. Fans have passionately debated whether Sam’s eyes turn black at this moment, and after dozens of viewings and an embarrassing amount of thought, I’m voting a resounding NO on Proposition Black-Eyed Sammy (like people should have voted for Prop 8). Black eyes would mean that that Sammy would be possessed by a lower-level demon, and not that he’s beginning the transition to the dark side. I also think if he was, it would be much more obvious for the folks in the back. Granted, just last week I realized Jared Padalecki’s eyes are blue, so take my observation for what its worth. Back to the action. At long last, Sam Hain’s demonic essence pours out of him and sizzles back to hell. Dude-witch’s body thuds against the floor, skin powder white and obviously dead and his evil ice-blue eyes snap back to their normal, dark color. Flushed, shaking and exhausted, Sam reluctantly meets Dean’s eyes. He looks ashamed and vulnerable and so young. Dean doesn’t look angry anymore, just worried about Sammy and the power that resides in him. Kudos to Jared Padalecki for doing an amazing job! Bravo!

Motel room. Day After Halloween. A positively ripped Sammy packs in solitude when Uriel abruptly appears on seated on the green couch behind him, and scares Sammy senseless. “Tomorrow, November 2nd, that’s an anniversary for you, right?” Uriel asks, and his tone is noticeably lighter, almost conversational. “That’s the day Azazel killed your mother and twenty-two years later, your girlfriend.” If you want to know how awesome the writers are, google November 2nd. And I know you’re too lazy, so here it is: traditionally, it is known as All Souls’ Day or a day to commemorate lost souls. Jessica’s death tragically honored that of Sammy’s mother. But I digress. Uriel seems almost sympathetic that Sammy is Boy, Interrupted, and has such a heavy “burden to bare,” but seamlessly transitions into an attack on Sam for “brazenly use the power [Azazel’s] given you.” Sammy explains that he had no choice because Sam Hain would have destroyed the entire town. Of course, Uriel doesn’t care, because he’s “been warned twice now.” “My brother was right about you. You are dicks.” Sammy’s upper lip twitches when he says it. Oh snap! Sammy’s Rating of Badassery is now 11.3, and his Rating of Stupidity is 15.7! Uriel cuts his eyes in Sammy’s direction, and we know he’s about to open an angelic can of Whoopass of Sammy that’s far worse than the Cruciatis Crampyolis. Sammy stumbles backwards and his hair flutters as the camera soars closer tight on Sam’s face. Uriel is now an inch away from Sammy, looking him directly in the eyes. In the wickedly cool and minimalist effect, Uriel just FLEW across the room to threaten Sammy’s life, “the only reason you’re still alive Sam Winchester, is because you’re still useful. The second that ceases to be true, one word, and I’ll turn you into dust.” Sammy gulps in fear, and we know it takes a lot to rattle Sammy Winchester’s resolve. Uriel steps back, but he’s not finished. “As for your brother, tell him to climb off that high horse of his. Ask Dean what he remembers from hell.” OH SNAP! Uriel flies away leaving Sammy confused and panicked, because not only are God’s Angels menacing, wingless freaks who want to obliterate towns, they now want him dead. Poor Sammy. And now I need to interject. I’m glad that the Halloween Special referenced Jessica’s death, but I feel that it was completely half-assed, and didn’t add anything to the story. Sammy Winchester never personally wrestled with The Angst that would understandably swirl around the time of her death. Dean never even brought it up when there were perfect places for him to mention it. It wasn’t a plot point until Uriel mentioned it. And damnit, I feel cheated! AGAIN! First, you deny me my slaughterhouse, and then you won’t even give me some Sammy Angst?! Suck it, Supernatural!

Playground. Dean might be risking a visit from Chris Mathews because he is sitting in a park watching the carefree kids play when Castiel abruptly appears. Are the angels playing divide and conquer? Hmm. Apparently, Sam and Dean are taking some time from each other to process everything that happened. I can imagine what transpired on Halloween night (even though I’d much rather SEE IT): Sammy’s head hurt him too much for Dean to punch him in it or scream at him, but Dean was too worried to do either, so they opted to avoid the Supernatural elephant in the room and have barely spoken since. Dean doesn’t want to hear Castiel’s lecture about not stopping the summoning. Castiel confesses, “our orders were not to stop the summoning of Sam Hain. They were to do whatever you told us to do.” Angels ARE dicks! LYING, MANIPULATIVE LITTLE DICKS! The only thing that makes them different from demons is that they’re on our side. “It was a test to see how you might perform in…battlefield conditions, you might say.” Shit. Dean seems insulted, and not terrified that he was plucked from hell to lead a war so big that that Castiel uses the fate of an entire town as a dry run. “It was a witch, not the Tet Offensive,” Dean says. Castiel seems amused, and almost laughs. Aww, they’re bonding. Dean assures Castiel that he would make the same exact decisions if Castiel were to “wave his magical time traveling wand” because “this: the kids, the swings, the trees, are all here because of my brother and me.” “You misunderstand me, Dean,” Castiel begins, “I was praying you would choose to save the town. These people, they’re all my Father’s creations. They’re works of art.” Finally, he says something profound sweet and sounds like the type of angel that will be topping my Christmas tree in two weeks. Regardless of Dean’s intentions, the seal was broken and they’re one step closer to literal “hell on earth. You of all people should appreciate what that means.” And Dean’s face darkens with a flood of hellish memories. Castiel then shares a secret with Dean, confiding in him in a way that makes him seem far more human that we’ve ever seen. He isn’t a hammer as Dean called him, but a being with “questions and doubts” and a serious mancrush on Zac Efron. You and me both, Castiel. You and me both! “I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, whether you passed or failed here.” I think Castiel realized that Sammy’s Sleight of Hand can be useful, and is may be a necessary evil if used for the greater good. But the Captial-I Iimportance of this moment is that Dean and Castiel have found improbable common ground. They sit side-by-side and feel the same smothering uncertainty and trepidation about the future. And because this is “Superntural,” Castiel has to completely ruin the moment with this little ditty: “In the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean.” Dean looks at the children for a source of courage and when he looks back, Castiel is gone.

“It’s The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester,” had some hiccups that worked against the story, but never negated the quality of the episode. This installment continues the fervent, dramatic and sophisticated trend the show has taken since the season premiere.

Snarky "Supernatural" Recap: Yellow Fever

“Supernatural” has always been a hit or miss. The Monster of the Week premise and the show’s mythology can make for some fantastic episodes (“What Is And What Should Never Be, “Born Under A Bad Sign,” “In the Beginning” to name a few) and some horrendous ones (“Ghostfacers,” “Red Sky At Morning,” “Route 66”). Thankfully, this season dove into a new chapter of the mythology with installments that are more intense, powerful and funnier than ever. Spoilers (yes, I read them) pegged this week’s episode, “Yellow Fever,” as one of the funniest installments in the show’s history. Yeah, well, we’ll see about that!

After a lengthy “THEN” montage that lets us know that the show’s mythology should be in play, “Yellow Fever” opens with a purposely familiar sequence: a panicked Dean tearing over shiny, wet asphalt and some unseen creature seems to be right on his heels. Hmm, that’s odd. This has to be a dream sequence, because Dean Winchester doesn’t run from anything that I can remember. Jensen Ackles seems to be exaggerating his stride by over-pumping his arms and it colors the pursuit with subtle comedy even as it conjures up much more horrifying nightmare (and eventual end to his life) that opened “No Rest For The Wicked.” Terrified Dean runs around a corner and careens over a homeless man’s shopping cart as what sounds like hellhounds and growl and snarl from somewhere behind him. Too scared to react to the pain—because damn, that looked like it hurt stunt double or not—Dean warns the bedraggled vagabond picking through the dumpster, “Run, he’ll kill you!” The homeless guy doesn’t seem to be at all afraid or even startled as he turns his head to reveal the hideous and hellish beat making Dean flee like a giant pansy. Is it Lilith in her true form? Sam gone darkside? Paris Hilton? Nope, a teeny, tiny shitzu with perfectly coifed fur and a pink bow lovingly attached to her little head. Ha. Dean bolts, screaming, and it turns into a Halloween-ish howl that comes from those motion-activated ghosts. Tinkerbell makes chase, adorably, of course.

Awesome title card. Metallicar ambles past the industrial landscape of Rock Ridge, Colorado as “43 Hours Earlier” flashes on the screen, indicating that the entire chase scene happens some time in the future. Sammy and normal Dean are Federal Agents Tyler and Perry. I know it is an Aerosmith reference, but it’s more fun to imagine that Sammy is a closeted Tyler Perry fan, “Diary of a Mad Black Woman” is his favorite movie, and he envisions playing Grit Ball with Ruby 2.0 when she does evil, blasphemous things like choking his recently resurrected brother. Sammy and Dean are visiting the county morgue to investigate the death of Frank O’Brien, a police officer and marathon runner who died of a mysterious heart attack. The brothers Winchester apparently have already done research and linked this death with the two others in a town over just yesterday. The coroner isn’t shocked or concerned that a 44-year-old athlete kicked the bucket so suddenly, “Everybody drops dead sooner or later, it’s why I got job security.” Ugh! I honestly can’t watch the rest of this scene, not because I am disgusted by the autopsy they convince the coroner to do, but because it is so inaccurate. The doctor makes a five-inch incision, cuts the ribs and pulls out the heart? Spare me, show! You had a perfect opportunity to show off some awesome gore, and you got lazy and sloppy. One episode of “Dr. G” and you’d know how delightfully gruesome autopsies can get, so I’m downright appalled that a horror show pass up the excuse to use a BONE SAW and a RIB SPREADER?! You could have flayed poor Frank’s torso open ala Claire from “Heros” in season one. So I must gloss over this egregious oversight and summarize or I’ll stop watching. After a lot of squishy, gross sound effects, Sammy and Dean both wish they hadn’t eaten those truck stop taquitos because Dean is forced to hold poor Frank O’Brien’s extremely healthy heart that is oddly free of blockages or malformations and smug Sammy gets nailed in the face with “spleen juice.” Ew. Again, this would mean a ton of paperwork and some bloodwork for Sammy as he was sprayed directly in the mouth and eyes, but they were going for comedy and realism, and it was pretty funny. Sam asks the doctor about the bloody scratches on Frank’s hands and forearms, that is missing his wedding band, but the inept coroner, who probably got his degree from Sally Struthers, attributes that to his heart attack, “When you drop dead, you actually tend to drop.” Unless this poor bastard dropped dead onto a whirring meat grinder, I doubt his fall caused such damage.

After the autopsy, Fed-Like Sammy and Un-Fed-Like Dean head over to the sheriff’s office, where a baby-faced deputy grins at Dean as they wait in the quiet, birds chirping in the background. Deputy Linus knows pretty when he sees it! The sheriff exits his office, reams the deputy for keeping the federal agents (HA!) waiting, and ushers them inside but not before he makes them take off his shoes. They pad into the office in their stocking feet. I immediately assume that Sheriff Al Britton is a lover of Asian culture, and would have an office decorated with ornate dragons and folding screens, novelty buddhas and a litany of satin throw pillows. Fed-Like Sammy and Un-Fed-Like Dean must have expected the same thing, because they survey his normally appointed office in confusion before introductions are made. Al reaches for a family-sized bottle of antibacterial gel, squeezes one-third cup of the stuff into his palm and vigorously rubs it in. It seems the town sheriff has a serious case of OCD, and not the mild, trendy kind made famous by Howie Mandel and Donald Trump. Finally, he sits down, “so what can I do for Uncle Sam?” He asks. Sam answers that they are investigating Frank O’Brien’s death and some of his men found Frank’s body. Frank and Al were friends and “gamecocks.” Dean snorts, because he has the emotional maturity of an eleven-year-old boy. Al levels him with a look of disapproval and explains that they are “majestic animals” and the mascot of their softball team. Al continues. He knew Frank since high school and that he was a “good man.” Dean pipes in, “big heart.” In the sanctity of my bedroom, I perform a fantastic spit-take of iced tea, because that little zinger was as awesome as it was shamefully wrong, and I never saw it coming. That almost makes up for the half-assed autopsy. Fed-Like Sammy nearly kills him with a stealthy bitchface. Then, he asks if Frank was acting strangely before he died. Al says that Frank was “real jumpy” and refused to answer his phone, so finally, he sent some of his men over to check on him, and they discovered his body. Sheriff OCD coughs into his hands and proceeds to shellack them in another hearty coat of antibacterial gel. Dean clearly thinks this man is a germophobic freak, and doesn’t do much to hide it. “So why the feds give a crap?” Sheriff OCD questions. Man, everyone in Rock Ridge is so eloquent and articulate, but this is obviously supposed to be an industrial town, and no one has time for fancy book-learnin’, so even the sheriff and the coroner talk like Joe the Plumber. Dean assures him that it’s probably “just a heart attack.”

And we all know he’s a bow-legged liar because...a second later, Dean shakes his head, “No way that was a heart attack,” Fed-Like Sammy and Un-Fed-Like Dean walking down the street. “Three victims all with strange red scratches, all went from jittery to terrified to dead within 48 hours,” Sammy summarizes. “Something scared them to death,” Dean concludes. But I have decided that I don’t really care what killed Frank or even what is going to happen in this episode. Our boys are doing a simple walk-and-talk scene, but they’re wearing exquisitely tailored suits, and Jared Padalecki’s pecs should be earning residuals because they are workin’ hard beneath his crisply ironed shirt. Jared and his perfectly chiseled pectorals execute a perfect GQ strut complete with one hand in his pocket, his back straight and his long tie billowing the Colorado (Canadian) wind. The Battle of the Pretty For This Episode has officially begun, and we’re only six minutes into it! Dean is facing some seriously hot competition. Back to the action. Dean says there are “a hundred” nightmare things that could scare someone to death with demons, witches and the always mentioned but never seen chupracobra being at the top of the list, so they need to start finding evidence and eliminating suspects. They decide to go visit the last person who saw Frank alive, his neighbor, Mark. Dean suddenly stops mid-stride, and admits that he doesn’t “like the looks of those teenagers down there.” Sammy double-takes at a group of suburban fourteen year-olds who look more like band geeks than badasses. Also, Sammy knows he and Dean could kill them all without even getting winded. I can tell by the pained and confused expression on Dean’s face that he can’t believe he is afraid of them, let alone acting on that fear in front of his giant of a lil’ bro. Dean suggests they walk another way, and leaves Sammy stunned as he crosses the street, putting distance between him and the Band of Badass Band Geeks. Dean gives me a little GQ strut of his own that is quite good even though Dean’s face is pinched with inexplicable anxiety. It almost looks like Tyra Banks’ patented ugly-pretty model face. Jared, you jus’ been served, sucka!

Mark’s house is apparently Rock Ridge’s only reptile sanctuary. The walls are littered with cages containing all kinds of creepy crawly critters, including lizards, a crocodile, frogs, and a fat boa constrictor is draped around Mark’s neck. “Tyler and Perry, just like the Tyler Perry films, right? I love ‘Tyler Perry Presents Family Reunion Written, Directed and Starring Tyler Perry!’” Mark completely doesn’t say. “Yeah,” Sam agrees curtly, surveying the apartment. The dwelling sounds like a noise machine, strumming with the ribbets of frogs and hissing of snakes. Dean is sitting on the couch, and is awfully uncharacteristically twitchy. His pretty, pretty face looks disjointed and odd. When asked, Mark, who is quite rotund with a goatee and a receding hairline, explains that Frank was scared of everything before he died, and specifies “witches,” immediately catching Sam and Dean’s attention. “’Wizard of Oz’ was on TV the other night, right? And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him,” Mark clarifies as he guides the head of his reptilian friend around with his hand. The Wicked Witch is definitely not the kind of witch they had in mind, although how cool would it be to have Sam gank her while Dean fights off the flying monkeys? Mark confesses that Frank was terrified of “Al Queda, ferrets, artificial sweetener, Pez dispensers with their dead little eyes,” while Dean grows increasingly more anxious as he notices more and more furry and scaled critters in the apartment. Sammy, unaware of Dean’s trepidation, forges ahead, asking what type of guy our dearly departed Frank was. And low and behold! Frank was “a dick and a bully” and who “taped half the town’s butt cheeks together.” Dean snorts in approval, and confirms what I have always believed: he was a major punk ass when he was a teenager and probably raised more hell than he exorcised. Deano regains his Un-Fed Like composure, and wonders if Mark believes that anyone would want to get revenge on Frank, the former dick. Mark insists that Frank “got better” and no one would want to hurt him, especially after his wife died twenty years ago.

Dean, who is breathing hard, eyes the snake around Mark’s neck. “Don’t be scared of Donnie,” Mark grins wickedly. “He’s a sweetheart. It’s Marie you gotta look out for. She can smell fear.” And now you get a hint of why Frank tortured this poor loser in high school. He’s a grown man who names his reptiles after Donnie and Marie Osmond and let’s them roam free in his apartment. Marie, true to her talent, follows the scent of fear and slithers up the back of the sofa. She is an Albino Boa Constrictor, and her yellow skin would make a fetching handbag. Sammy watches her, completely fine with it because HE FIGHTS MONSTERS FOR A LIVING! Dean, on the other hand, gasps in pure dread as Marie moves over his shoulder and down the inside of his thigh. Is it sick and wrong that I’m jealous of that fucking snake? Hilariously, Dean manfully gulps it down and tries to smile as the absolutely enormous reptile lithely glides down the length of his body. Dean’s facial expressions are hilarious as he endures the torture of being fondled by a snake. Hee! The fact that Sam doesn’t rattle off at least three Britney Spears/Slave 4 U jokes makes me think that he, once again, has been sidelined to Wet Blanket status. Again, really?

Nighttime. The Metallicar is parked on a quiet street. Inside, Dean scratches his forearm as he reads an article. He jerks as Sam opens Baby’s creaking door and climbs in. While Sammy was inside sweeping Frank’s home, Dean went to the county clerk’s office to do research on Frank’s late wife. “Jessie was a manic depressive. She went off her meds back in ’88 and vanished. They found her two weeks later, three towns over, strung up in her motel room. Suicide,” but Frank couldn’t have done it as “he was working a swing shift…airtight alibi.” Dean starts the car and begins to drive down a rain-soaked street. Sammy says that Frank’s house was clean, “no EMF, no hexbags, no sulfur,” which in layman’s terms means, “no ghosts, no witches, no demons,” Dean clarifies as he drives in an attentive manner. His eyes jump from mirror to mirror and his hands are in the 10-and-2 position.

The boys are running out of leads. Sammy sighs, and notices that Dean is practically driving Ms. Daisy by going at an aggravatingly slow twenty miles per hour. “So what, safety’s a crime now?” Dean fires back when confronted. His eyes are abnormally large, and his brow is stuck in a furrowed position. Sam says nothing as the Metallicar crawls down what I’m assuming is the town’s main drag right past the Bluebird Hotel. Sammy points this out, too. “I’m not going to make a left-hand turn into oncoming traffic, I’m not suicidal,” twitches the very man who personally knocked on death’s door in order to save his brother. Sammy looks at Dean as he has sprouted another head. And breasts. Dean mirrors his expression, “did I just say that? That’s kinda of weird.” He chuckles, on edge. A strange noise distracts Sammy from calling the men with the butterfly nets. “Do you hear something?” He tracks the noise to the EMF meter inside of his jean jacket, and it is signaling a significant amount of EMF activity. IN THE CAR. He points it experimentally towards Dean and the levels spike. Dean’s eyes flare, “am I haunted? Am I haunted?” He actually panics. What on earth is going on with Dean?

In the light of the morning, Sam ambles by a whimsical and colorful mural holding a box of donuts with his cell phone to his ear. He makes moves to enter the hotel when he hears the addictive beats to “Eye of the Tiger” rattling the paint off the Metallicar. Inside, Dean is lying on his back in the front seat air drumming to this song. I get the feeling this is how Dean has passed many a night when he was hunting alone while Sammy was at Stanford. It also illustrates how freaking huge the Metallicar actually is, because Dean’s legs aren’t bunched up or hanging out the window, but resting somewhere inside the enormous front seat. Unfortunately for Dean, who is burying his burgeoning anxiety with the awesomeness of “Eye of the Tiger”, and the viewing audience, who want to see Dean rock out Rocky-style, Straight-Laced Sammy bangs on the hood of the car, and startles him upright. Dean exits the car and shows Sammy the self-inflicted bloody welts on his forearm. Sammy hands Dean the box of donuts in hopes of comforting him. As expected, Dean smells them appreciatively and then he rips the box open…and, oh wait, what the fuck? Not only does he not cram one of those sugary glazed pastries of the gods into his smart mouth, but he doesn’t even OPEN THE BOX! Instead he tosses them on the seat of the Impala and refocuses on Sammy. Bedazzle your handbaskets, kids, because the apocalypse is coming sooner than expected. It is Sammy’s turn to be scared speechless because Dean just confirmed that he has lost his mind, and we all know he fucking has, because box of fresh donuts are sitting in the front seat of the Metallicar unmolested!

Sammy and Bobby worked together through the night to figure out what ails poor un-hungry Deano. “It’s Ghost Sickness,” Sammy explains, sounding more capable and knowledgeable about their diagnosis than the bungling coroner. Dean, however alarmed, looks absolutely delectable in the reaction shot. His eyes pop with green, echoing the color of the shirt he is wearing, and his skin is smoother than Ryan Seacrest’s. Suck it, black and white! “Oh God, no,” he sighs and swoons against the car. “I don’t even know what that is,” he deadpans, showing Sammy that the real Dean Winchester is still alive and…Holy Shit…did Jensen just blink like seven times in a row and lick those pouty lips of his? That’s one for the record books, folks. He is really fighting for the Pretty Title in this episode. But I digress. Sammy continues his exposition, “Some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses.” “Get to the good stuff,” Dean hurries for the sake of the audience. And bravo, Dean, because far this episode has been nothing but exposition. “The symptoms are you get anxious, then scared, then really scared…and then your heart gives out.” Sammy then bores us all by saying words that don’t make Dean shriek and flail like a 12-year-old watching “High School Musical 3” or run from three-pound puppies, so I must summarize. Yellow Fever can be transmitted through casual contact just like the flu. Frank O’Brien was the first to die, so he is the “outbreak monkey” and he must have passed the disease along to members of the Cornjerkers softball team when he played them at a tournament that weekend, hence the heart attacks in the first town over. Dean caught the disease from his corpse, and Bobby estimates he as twenty-four hours to live. This is all expressed with no Screamy Angst or Orchestra of Woe, so blah, blah, yada yada, snore.

Smart Dean wonders why his brother doesn’t have the fatal disease because he was “hit with the spleen juice” and Sammy eager to share his theory that all of the victims—a cop, a vice principal and a bouncer—were “dicks” who used “fear and intimidation” on a regular, if not daily, basis and as “weapons.” This part of the scene has caused rabid levels of rage and gruesome death threats on poor fictional Sammy Winchester’s life from the internet fandom. Dreamy Dean Winchester couldn’t possibly be a dick, because he saves lives and has pouty lips and beautiful green eyes and awesome one-liners like “I’m Batman.” “Kamakaze? I’m more of a ninja”, and adorably little bow-legs!111. The fact of the matter is, Dean has always been harsh, intimidating and downright cold when it comes to hunting, and as wisely alluded to earlier in this episode, he thinks bullies taping buttocks together is funny (which I think it is if someone's stupid enoguh to let you get THAT close). Also, if you remember in “What Is And What Should Never Be,” Dean was a complete prick who bedded Sammy’s prom date on prom night, stole money from him and missed his little brother’s graduation. I imagine when Dean isn’t saving lives or roasting in hell, he can be quite dickish indeed. And I’m okay with that. I’d rather be a “dick” and be Straight-Laced, Exposition Sammy. So there!

Where the writers, Anthony Dabb and Daniel Loflin, made the first of several fatal mistakes is by using the same excuse to excuse Sam from getting the same disease. I hate to say this, people, but despite those broad shoulders, dewy (blue? brown?) eyes, penchant for brooding to emo-ska, unfortunate hair, and undiagnosed manorexia, our Darling Sammy horrifies people right along side his bow-legged dick of a brother. So he’s a huge dick too. (I intend whatever puns you can get from that, nasty!) The difference between him and Dean is that he has demon blood in him and is immune to just about anything they can dish out, including the demonic warfare in “Croatoan” and Lilith’s lethal white light. Of course, Sammy wouldn’t succumb to silly Ghost Sickness, spleen juice or no spleen juice. The fact that the characters didn’t even consider that as an option is implausible and downright foolish on the writers’ part. Even poor Doomed Dean has a hard time swallowing that bit of shoddy writing. Moving on, Sammy says that if they “gank the ghost who started this whole thing,” it will cure the Yellow Fever outbreak, thus saving Dean’s second life. They immediately assume the ghost responsible is Jessie, Frank’s wife, because “no one really knows why she killed herself” even though we know that she was bipolar and off her meds. Sounds like reason enough to me! But they have no other leads, so…to the Metallicar! BOOM! BAM! THWAP!

Or not. This scene isn’t over yet?! Sam wonders why his brother was waiting in the car and not up in their room. Dean looks sheepish, “our room is on the fourth floor,” he begins, “it’s…high,” he gasps. Sammy bristles and pushes his lips together. His face aches to tease his brother, but realizes that he suffering, so he sighs, “I’ll see if I can move us down to the first.” “Thanks!” Dean replies graciously. Sammy departs and Dean moves his eyes back and forth shiftily, and climbs back into the Impala to retrieve his donuts. He opens the box, put then sets them aside, unable to eat. God, he is so sick, my poor Scrappy Doo!

Ever the dutiful hunter, Dean is trying to do some research on Yellow Fever inside the surprisingly tasteful and clean hotel suite that is presumably on the first floor. It includes a kitchenette and a cute living room decorated in olive greens. His anxiety grows. He glares up at the starburst clock as it beats louder. The sound of the clock ticking is irritatingly loud and paired with the beating of a human heart. Is Jackie Dahmer back? Nah, they are just borrowing the same sound trick, because it is quite effective. Jensen’s eyes are abnormally large and glassy as he tries to block out the noise and focus on the book. The photos and information definitely do not provide him any comfort. “[Those who suffer] from Ghost Sickness are affected by hallucinations…eventual horrible death,” Dean reads and he begins to the cough. The simple sounds of the room grows louder as he studies pictures of a poor eviscerated soul and another of a man vomiting up a river of blood. The lyrical chirping of blue birds now sound like the death squawks of predatory buzzards. “You’re dying.” Dean reads. “Again. Loser.” HA! The words are embedded in the text, but larger and bolder. Dean’s eyes pop even wider as his vision grows blurry at the edges and the images tremble, indicating for the folks in the back that he’s tripping. Get your glowsticks and your ring pops, everybody! He rubs them in an effort to snap himself out of the hallucination, but he has no such luck. The book continues to taunt him in bolded, evil Times New Roman, “You gonna cry? Baby gonna cry?” Dean grunts in frustration, and tears his eyes away from the book. He refocuses angrily on the clock that is still ticking incessantly. He can’t stop the Ghost Sickness or the hallucinations, but he can kill the Clock of Doom! The pretty starburst clock ticks boom three more times in slow motion before the screen fades to black and we are treated to a cathartic crunch of wood and the shatter of glass. Good to know Deano’s anxiety attacks mirrors my own…well, without all of the acidy trips and whatnot.

Sammy stalks back into the hotel room. His booted feet step directly behind the destroyed clock that will never tick again. Sam asks Dean if everything is all right. Dean is casually sitting on the couch, feet crossed at the ankles, drinking a beer. “Just peachy,” he snarks as he scratches his arm. Sammy discloses that Frank’s wife was cremated, so she mostly likely isn’t their ghost. Sammy sits down and nudges Dean’s feet with his large ones. “Hey! Quit pickin’ at that!” Hee! I like Big Brother Sammy. Dean obeys and slumps on the couch looking positively miserable. Concerned, Sammy asks him how he’s feeling. “Awesome,” Dean deadpans with his blistering fake smile. “It’s nice to have my head on the chopping block again. I forgot what that feels like…freakin’ delightful.” He complains as he takes another sip of beer. Sammy promises they will keep looking for answers. He doesn’t have a chance to offer the emo-words of encouragement we all know is coming because Dean swallows his beer and starts coughing. Sammy asks if he’s okay, probably thinking it’s just part of the sickness, just like I do. It’s not until Dean grabs his throat and gags that Sammy (and I) worry. Wheezing, Dean darts for the sink and vomits up something hard that hits the drain with an audible clang. Sam is two steps behind him, running to, I don’t know, hold Dean’s hair back. I’m definitely not going to stand front and center while anyone barfs, sorry. I’m not afraid of snakes or autopsies, but I have an embarrassing fear of being puked on. Dean rinses off the blood and bile coated thing he coughed up. It is a woodchip with some mystical shapes on the underside. Sammy is actually thrilled at this new development. I doubt Dean echoes his glee. “We’ve been ignoring he most important clue we have: you!” “I don’t wanna be a clue,” he pouts adorably. Hee! But Straight-Laced, Exposition Sammy is on a roll, “the abrasions, this…the disease is trying to tell us something.” “What? Woodchips?” Dean dumbly questions. Dude, you decipher convoluted ghost communication on a regular basis. You know it’s not that simple. “Yes, exactly!” Sammy agrees. Okay, maybe it is.

The beautiful Metallicar rolls over a bed of woodchips and into same industrial site they passed on the way into town. It is the now condemned Cassity and Sons Lumber Mill. The towering structures of yellow and silver steel are weathered and rusty from neglect. Other parts of the building are darkened in shadows and eerily quiet. Deano exits the car, “oh, I’m not going in there.” This moment is the first of several throughout the episode where I don’t recognize Jensen Ackles as Dean Winchester, because the presence of fear negates the presence of Dean Winchester as we know it. He is no longer the charismatic, self-proclaimed maverick, who fights demons with reckless abandon and a scrappy flair. Add fear to the mix, and Dean is you…and me, Eric Brady…and any sane person who uses the self-preservative emotion to gage how much their action endanger their actions. Fear tells us that exploring an abandoned lumber mill or letting a reptile that can grow up to fourteen feet long and can easily crush you to death slither around your nether regions is ridiculous and could end your life. Papa Winchester mercilessly trained and beat instinctive fear out of his sons, so it is rarely something they deal with beyond sarcasm and a bit of gun porn. Fear in the Realm of Winchester is far different than fear in plain ole reality. So naturally, Scaredy Doo is not going there. Sammy fires up his dewy (blue? brown?) eyes and prepares to drop the kindest, most uplifting speech on his yellow-bellied, wimp of a brother, one that would have Oprah doin’ the ugly cry. “I need back up, and you’re all I’ve got.” HUH?! Whereare Sammy’s sensitive poems about overcoming one’s challenges to emerge triumphant and alive? That’s it? Wait, he’s talking again. It’s coming now. Get your tissues, folks, it's going to be a doosey. “You’re going in, Dean!” That was…sweet? I’m starting to think that our Sammy has been kidnapped and replaced by our vampy shapeshifter from last week.

Dean does what any other heterosexual guy when faced with fear would do—he pulls a fifth of whiskey from his jacket pocket and takes a searing pull. “Let’s do this!” He growls in a complete parody of our Scrappy Doo. He puffs himself up to investigate the abandoned warehouse. “It is a little spooky, isn’t it?” he retorts, losing composure. Ha! They open the trunk arsenal, and our giant Sam has to lean all the way down to hand his brother his beloved pearl-handled 45mm as he grabs his trusty sawed-off. “I’m not carrying that. It could go off!” Dean says. “I’ll man the flashlight.” He smiles and seems proud of himself, because he’s going in that scary, scary place. Hee! The corners of Sam’s mouth twitch with thinly veiled frustration. Sammy is two seconds away from beating Dean’s ass.

Dean executes some stellar flashlight-fu, notably protected by the bulk of his giant of a little brother’s frame as they creep and stealth into the warehouse. Sammy’s trusty EMF meter signals from his pocket, but it is Dean’s sickness that is triggering it. It will be useless until he is better or dead, so Sammy tucks it back into his pocket. He then notices something on the floor, and reaches to grab it. The abrupt movement makes Scaredy Doo jump in fear. Beneath a scrap of fabric, Sam finds Frank’s missing wedding ring, indicating that Frank was at the warehouse before he died. More flashlight-fu down a dark, cinder block hallway. The boys hear rustling coming from one of the lockers and enter what used to be a breakroom. Sammy mouths to Dean that he’ll open the locker on the count of three. When he does, an adorable little tabby cat hops off the top shelf with a frightened meow. Dean lets loose a terrific bloodcurdling, girly scream that melds into hiccups of shrill shrieking. I’m so making that my ringtone! It stretches his face out until he resembles the black and white SCREAM mask. Meanwhile, Sam gapes at him and raises his eyebrows in pure incredulity. The entire sequence was predictable, but Jensen’s commitment kept it satisfyingly funny. “That was scary!” He enthusiastically admits with a toothy smile, panting.. Those three words are goofy delivery makes the entire moment golden and makes me giggle like the fangirl I am. Sam gingerly brushes past Dean, because he doesn’t know how to process his giant pussy of a brother. Dean whimpers and scampers after him.

More flashlight-fu into a destroyed office. The floor of the room is covered in dirt and furniture and papers are haphazardly strewn around the space. Sammy finds an aged work badge that belongs to Luther Garland, no, not Judy Garland, who played Dorothy in “Wizard of Oz” but LUTHER. Very cute, show! His picture is that of a menacing bald white man and not Liza Minelli’s mama. Dean investigates the papers on the desk on the far corner of the room, and finds aged drawings of Frank’s wife, Jessie. As soon as he pulls up a picture—ripping it in the process—the machinery mysteriously fires up even though the mill has been abandoned for at least a decade. Conveyors belts convey and whirly things whirl. Dean, of course, nearly pisses his pants in horror as Sam calmly observes. Dean uses his flashlight to pan around the small room. He passes over a hunched figure that skillfully blends into the drab room before he gulps and backtracks. The beam of light reveals someone cowering in the corner, his back to the boys. Scaredy Doo is literally paralyzed in fright, eyes as big as quarters. Sam follows Dean’s line of sight and lifts his gun at the apparition. He then approaches it. Wait, why is the ghost hiding?! Is it opposite day in “Supernatural” Land? Sam is the no-nonsense hunter. Dean refuses to carry a gun. And now, GHOSTS are hiding?! Since when do ghosts hide? Sam turns back, probably to ask Dean the same question, but through the swinging doors, we can see Dean hightailing it out of the factory, tossing his brother nothing more than a backwards look before he tears to the safe light of day. Finally, the terrified ghost remembers he’s a ghost and advances towards Sam, revealing he is Luther Garland, the man on employee badge. The poor ghost has bloody wounds on his face and hands. He takes another step and Sam blasts his undead self with rock-salt rounds. Outside, Dean is crouched behind the trunk of his baby, guzzling the last of his whiskey. Sammy runs out with Luther’s ID. “Looks like we got the right place.”

Fed-Like Sammy and Un-Fed-Like Dean are back at the sheriff’s office. Dean is standing a mandated five feet away from the counter, swaying. Deputy Linus has pulled the Garland file, and finds that his cause of death was ruled a vague “physical trauma” and our teenaged deputy is too young to remember any details of the murder. His boss, the OCD Sheriff, is out sick and therefore isn’t available for questioning. Linus notices Dean swaying, scratching and staring at his fingers in amazement, and discreetly asks Fed-Like Sammy if he’s drunk. Sammy, who once again looks amazing in his FBI suit and styled hair, glares his BLUE eyes at Dean and says he’s not. Dean offers an inebriated wink-thumbs up combo that proves he definitely is. Sam takes the Luther’s file, and leaves. Dean stays in his spot, probably because Sammy threatened one of the Metallicar’s headlights if he moved, and beams at Deputy Linus with glassy eyes. “You know what? You’re awesome.” Deangirl Linus smiles brightly. And wow, I am just now noticing that he looks like a younger Deano. “You too, I guess.” Sammy scruffs Dean by the back of the neck and hauls him out of the station. Sheriff OCD, who is apparently barricaded in his office, uses the intercom to ask who was visiting. And I definitely know that this kid is related to the Winchesters, because he just lied to them. Deputy Linus tells him it was the FBI agents who requested Luther’s file. Inside, the heartbeat of anxiety pumps as the sheriff SCRUBS HIS SKIN BLOODY WITH STEEL WOOL and loading his pistol. Poor Al is halluncinating. He points his pistol at the talking reflection of himself emanating from the trophy case. “They know what you did. And now they are going to make you pay,” his paranoia tells him.

Peaceful Pines Assisted Living. Very cute, show. Fed-Like Sammy and Un-Fed-Like Dean round the corner of the facility and Dean jumps, pressing himself against the wall as a feeble old woman with an IV bag shuffles past them. “This isn’t going to work. These badges are fake. What if we get busted, we can go to jail!” He nags. This is the second time that I don’t recognize this coward as Dean and I think he has been possessed by someone else. Sam urges him to calm down and take a deep breath (and I can see his bicep bulging through his suit jacket). Dean acquiesces, drawing in air and pushing it out through his ridiculously red, pouty lips. “Feel better?” He shakes his head, hopeless and child-like. Sam ushers him down the hall and tosses a “don’t scratch!” as they pass through the doors into the empty rec room to speak to Luther’s brother. Why is that so cute? Mr. Garland is a wiry man with graying hair and haggard appearance. He sits at a desk in a wheelchair and suspiciously wonders why the FBI care about Luther’s case. Dean gulps when Mr. Garland asks for ID, but they still manage to hand them to him simultaneously. The thin, stubbled old man holds them and studies them for an eternity for our poor sick Dean. “Those are real,” he assures him. Sam pointedly clears his throat, but Dean can’t stop himself. “Who would pretend to be an FBI agent? That’s just nutty!” Sammy stomps on his foot.

Finally, the boys sit down and ask about Luther’s death. In short, Luther was “too big and too mean lookin’.” But he was a gentle giant who likes to play with kittens. Luther’s brother failed to protect him from the town’s scrutiny. Mr. Garland and the whole town know that Frank O’Brien killed Luther, because Jessie, Frank’s wife, worked at the plant and was sweet to Big Luther, and he developed a crush on her. When Jessie disappeared, Frank was convinced that Luther was responsible. In a flashback the peppers this explanation, we see that Frank went to the lumber mill, found Luther’s drawings of Jessie and forced him out of the building at gunpoint. He knocks him down and hits him with the butt of his rifle before he wraps a chain around his neck. There is a tight shot of a car’s rear wheels and brakelights that tear away and reveal the coiled chain unraveling as a car zooms away until it snaps taut and we snap back into the rec room at Peaceful Pines. Awesome transition. “They found Luther with a chain wrapped around his neck. He was past dead.” Frank O’Brien was never arrested because he was “the pillar of the community” and Luther was the “town freak.” Mr. Garland has forgiven Frank because he grew to understand that Frank was operated on fear, and wait for it, “[fear] spreads and spreads.” The camera gets in tight on the old man’s face as he says this. He seems prematurely aged by a life of tragedy and it simply drives his point home…or justifies this needlessly complicated plot.

Outside of Peaceful Pines, Dean realizes that the marks on his arm are roadrash and the woodchips he coughed up are from Luther swallowing them when he was dragged down the road. “You’re experiencing his death in slow motion.” “Not slow enough. I say we burn some bones, and get me healthy,” Dean says. That’s the Dean we all know and love. God, I miss him! Wet Blanket Sammy explains that it won’t be that easy, because Luther’s “body was ripped to pieces” and “he’s probably scattered up and down that road. There’s no way they we can find all of the remains.” But really, it’s because the writers don’t just want show the boys burning bones—been there, done that—so we’re not going to even mention that even the murder occurred two decades ago, and the Luther-bits that weren’t buried probably eaten by animals or decomposed away years ago. Sammy promises that they will figure something else out and proceeds to not go all emo on Dean’s ass, which makes me sad. Stupid Sammy Shapeshifter! You can’t tell me he’s not one now!

The FEAR turns Dean into a stranger again as he delivers the monologue that makes this exposition-heavy episode completely worth it. “You know what? Screw this. What are we doing?” “We’re hunting a ghost?” Sammy duhs. “A ghost! Exactly! Who does that?” “Us,” Sammy duhs again. “And that is exactly why our lives suck! We hunt monsters, what the hell? Normal people see a monster and they run, but not us. We search out things that want to kill us. OR EAT US! (Big ups, to Jackie Dahmer, yo!) You know who does that? CRAZY PEOPLE! We are INSANE! And then there’s the bad diner food and the skeevy motel rooms and the truck stop waitress with the bizarre rash. I mean who wants this life, Sam? Seriously? Do you actually like being stuck in a car with me eight hours a day, every single day? I don’t think so. I drive too fast and I listen to the same five albums over and over and over again. And I sing along. I’m annoying; I know that. And you! You’re gassy. You eat half a burrito and you get toxic. You know what? You can forget it. Stay away from me, Sam, because I’m done with it. I’m done with the monsters and the hellhounds and the Ghost Sickness and the damn Apocalypse. I’m out. I’m done. Quit!” This is a rare moment when the show cashes in on its history in a way that is rewarding and fun for the fans. Dean poses the very same questions all fans have at some point. Jensen Ackles just devours this brilliant material, adding a bit of camp, while keeping it entirely grounded. His usually deep, gravelly voice is so high-pitched and cowardly and he actually squawks and overemphasizes words. He paces the length of the car with his super-large eyes wild with alarming epiphany. Jensen looks like he is having the time of his life, and I feel terribly because all that Jared was given to do is react and stutter.

Dean tosses Sam the keys to his most prized possession and stalks off into the night, which is a good thing since Dean has been drinking all day and probably shouldn’t be driving. We follow Dean up the road and hear the jingle of a collar and the padding of little paws. Dean slowly turns to find Tinkerbell seeking refuge from Paris Hilton. Hee! We are back at the beginning.

Cut to a sweaty Dean sitting on the edge of his bed in the darkened motel room. Sammy enters, relieved when he finds his brother. “I looked everywhere for you, Dean! How’d you get here?” “…ran…” Dean pants with bags under his eyes. He looks quite ill and I imagine since his heart will be stopping soon, he might regret his marathon. “What do we do now? I got less than four hours on the clock. I’m going to die, Sammy.” Dean confesses. I have been waiting for this sequence all week, especially after seeing the trailer for this episode. “Yeah you are,” Sammy says matter-of-factly. “It’s about damn time, too.” Dean’s vision blurs at the edges and bounces as he looks at Sammy as his eyes flash a demonic yellow then to a devilish white, and we know he’s imagining this. “The truth is you’ve been a real pain in my ass.” Dean attempts to move, but Badass Evil Sammy anticipates it. Without even turning his head, he lifts his hand, and telepathically flings Dean into the wall. “You get out of my brother, you evil son of a bitch!” He rages through clenched teeth. Stay in him, stay in him! He’s more fun when he’s evil. And more hot. Awesomely, Scrappy Doo overcome the silly fears of the Ghost Sickness, because this is the only mind-numbing, heart-stopping, soul-shattering fear he’s ever had: losing his brother to the very evil that killed his parents and grandparents.

The heart of fear is thumping away, which will never not be scary. The sound guys have exaggerated Sam’s voice, making it deeper, deliberate and far more sinister. Sammy laughs at the notion that he is possessed. “No one is possessing me, Dean. This is what I’m going to become,” Badass Evil Sammy says as he ventures towards him. “This is what I want to become.” Dean struggles and cringes and almost cries as Badass Evil Sammy places his hand around Dean’s neck, lets his eyes flip white, and then? Evil Sammy squeeze. That’s right folks, Sammy is strangling his brother, and I’m loving it! Get him, Sammy, get him! Dean fights for breath and suddenly, Badass Evil Sammy is gone (aww) and Regular Sammy is there with his hands on Dean’s shoulders, trying to pull him out of his delirium. No-Nonsense Sammy pops Dean’s shoulders sharply against the wall, and successfully knocks him back into reality. And I’m pissed! That entire sequence was basically in the previews from last week. I wanted more Badass Evil Sammy, and Jared Padalecki does too, because he actually gets to, ya know, act!

Next day. Lumber Mill. Sammy is sitting on the Metallicar’s hood as Bobby’s rusted out Chevelle ambles up the dusty path. He wonders where Dean is, and Sammy snorts, “home sick.” Cut to Dean sitting on the couch watching “Gumby” and scratching the bloody hell out of his arm. And I’m sorry. Ghost Sickness or not, claymation (and Claymates) is downright petrifying. He should just put in a snuff film! It would be less scary than MOVING CLAY. Dean jolts back when someone lassos Pokey (Bonus point for you, if you get the awesome reference!) and hauls him down a dirt road. Kudos to whoever procured this clip! “This isn’t helping,” Dean mutters. No Dean, that creepy shit isn’t helping. In fact, it’s making me scratch.

Back Sammy and Bobby. Sammy coldly calculates that Dean has about two hours before he dies. In a mildly amusing sequence, Sammy learns that Bobby can not only read, but speak Japanese, and that the thing causing the Yellow Fever is Buru-Buru, which is some kind of manifestation of fear. Since the writers won’t let them salt and burn the bones, Bobby says they have to do the next best thing: scare the ghost into the light. Huh? What? Who cares? Sammy calls Dean to breezily assure him that they have a good plan and he just needs to “ride out the trip” like Ghost Sickness is the teacup ride at Disneyland. As soon as Sammy hangs up, Bobby says “this is a terrible plan” and Sammy knows it is, but it’s all they have left to try. All right, I’ve had it, show! I have kept my feelings quiet throughout this recap, because I was waiting to see how the writers would handle Sammy’s fear about his brother’s impending demise. I do believe that when Dean was hallucinating Badass Evil Sammy, Real Sammy was actually lamenting about the entire situation, confessing some beautifully dark things about how he refuses to fail Dean again, but we didn’t get to hear that. And this is the perfect moment to confide in Bobby. Instead the writers stupidly continued with the “oh Dean’s dying again” nonchalance, and thus, Sammy’s sitting his giant ass on Dean’s priceless, precious baby and waxing stoic about how Dean has less than two hours to live. Whatever. The characters of Sam and Bobby need to reference whatever Sam’s emotions may be. I’m not asking for anyone to dust off the Orchestra of Woe or the Capital-M Melancholy that bogged down last season in lieu of Sammy getting his ass kicked by a titan of a ghost, but we need something. The fact they, yet again, don’t there ruins the entire episode. Comedy is awesome, but “SPN” has always been a pleasant mix of both, and the laughs ended seven minutes ago.

In a series of artful shots, Sammy creeps back into the lumber mill without Bobby and clutching his shotgun. We get several shots of him from various angles walking through dark shadows and contrasting milky light streaming in from outside. Luther’s hand suddenly slams onto a pane of glass the camera is shooting Sammy through and then focuses on the dusty pane of glass and Luther’s ghostly reflection. Yes, I jumped. Shut up.

Back at the hotel. Delirium has overwhelmed Dean, and he hears the snarl of demonic pitbulls, and fortunately for him, it’s not Sarah Palin. Not a second later, unseen forces beat against the door to his room, nearly rattling it off its hinges. Dean ducks down behind the armchair he was sitting in when finally the doorframe splinters and the sheriff enters the room with his pistol. Dean lifts his upper body up like a prairie dog to see who it is, and is relieved that he is not about to be mauled by hellhounds. Dean’s vision bounces and throbs throughout the scene and we can’t tell what is real and what isn’t. I do know that the confrontation between the two characters looks completely ridiculous regardless of how much the actors are trying to make it believable. Long story short: Al’s not one bit guilty for not busting Frank for brutally killing Luther because it the FEAR made him do it or whatever. I don’t care. Commence with the dying! Dean tries to tell the sheriff that he’s sick and needs to calm down. But again, stupid, because this guy was infected before Dean, so he should be dead right now. They struggle until Dean’s instincts take over, and he finally starts to kick some motherfuckin’ ass. He busts the sheriff in the face and knocks him back into the coffee table, which shatters, but sadly, doesn’t impale him. Boo! Al clutches his rapidly beating heart and dies gorelessly. Bad form, Al, bad form!

Lumber Mill. Sammy’s searching for Luther and talking to Bobby on his two-way. Sammy hypothesizes that he needs to make him angry in order to draw him out. He puts the gun down and proceeds to destroy Luther’s drawings of his beloved Jessie. Who’s the dick now, Sammy? LEAVE LUTHER ALONE!11 *sobs* The machines supernaturally power on. Sammy continues his demonic destruction. The camera slides over as Sammy stands upright, and we see Luther’s ghost seething behind him. Sic ‘em, Luther! Sammy senses big ole Luther, and when he turns around, he actually has to look up at the giant hulk of a ghost. Luther wastes no time and tosses the Formally Ginormous Sammy across the room like a rag doll. I’m rooting for Luther, y’all! I think he could win this one.

Motel. Dean has covered the sheriff’s corpse with the bedspread. He sits on the foot of the other bed, shaky and scratching the skin off his already bloody forearms. Apparently, he’s giving up on drinking, which is a shame, because alcohol is a depressant and might be able to buy him some time. His anxiety has finally reached critical mass; his mind is replaying Badass Evil Sammy’s creeptastic voice; his watch ticking is deafening; he hears hellhounds; and he can’t trust anything he sees. Desperate, he presses the Bible to his cheek and closes his eyes in fervent prayer. God or Castiel ain’t helpin’ you, buddy! “Hi, Dean!” A child-like voice greets. His eyes snap open audibly, and the camera does another reveal slide, so we can see the Lilith in Zoey’s meatsuit from “No Rest For The Wicked.” Remember her? She’s the little girl Lilith possessed and Sam almost killed. She’s wearing a puffy pink dress I would have cut a bitch for when I was nine. “Oh! No!” Dean cowers. His skin crawls and he visibly shutters as Lilith giddily hugs him and says, “it’s time go to back now,” she grins. I’m jealous of her too, now! And I still want that dress! Dean pries himself away and stands up, refusing to meet her eyes. “What’s the matter? Don’t you remember all the fun you had down there? Four months is like forty years in hell.” She estimates and then…DUN! Is it really the first one of the episode? “And you remember every second.” Come again? Did he LIE to Sammy when he said he didn’t remember? We get no confirmation either way, because Dean’s heart starts the wonky beat, and he crumples to his knees in pain. Dean asks why he got infected, and Lilith says he knows why, and starts torturing my pretty-faced baby to death. “Ba-Boom! Ba-boom! Ba-boom!” Dean’s heart sails into supraventricular tachycardia, which trust me, is as uncomfortable as it looks.

Lumber Mill. Sammy is getting his ass kicked. And that’s not exactly a rare occurrence on this show, but this time, Sammy’s purposely not fighting back. Luther literally hauls Sammy cross the room by his ankle, stomps on his back, cracks his head against the floor repeatedly. Ouch. It’s refreshing to see our giant Sammy crawling away from a force bigger than himself. Sam even smiles while Luther slams his hard skull against the cement floor. So his romps with Ruby 2.0 turned him into a sadist? I bet his safe-word is “Marzipan.”

Lilith continues “Ba-booming.” Dean has the slowest heart attack in the history of heart attacks.

Luther grabs Sammy’s collar, and Sammy retrieves a chain hidden in the sawdust that covers the floor, and wraps it around Luther’s neck, creating an iron noose. “Bobby, punch it!” He screams. Bobby shifts the Metallicar into gear and floors it. The chain jerks poor Luther’s ghost off Sam, out the lumber mill and down the road. Meanwhile, Dean’s still babysteppng towards the light. For the second time in Luther’s (after)life, he being dragged to his demise. Dean draws in a wheezing breath of finality. And stops. Stops breathing. Stops struggling. Stops living? Luther’s disintegrates in plumes of ghostly smoke. As his body falls away, we can only see the chain and Luther’s head, and he looks like Humpty Dumpty. Finally, his eye close and Humpty Dumpty has The Great Fall, leaving Bobby dragging nothing but chain. The machines skitter to a stop, and Luther is gone. Dean dead-eyes the camera for three agonizing seconds before he gasps back to life, coughing. The room is quiet and his forearms are completely healed. Exhausted, he flops against the luggage under his head and just breathes.

Lumber Mill. In front of an undeniably scenic ridge of evergreens and mountains, Dean, Bobby and Sam recap the day’s events. Dean offers Bobby a beer, but he declines. “So you guys roadhauled a ghost?” A fully recovered Dean asks. Sammy blahs about how it was an iron chain etched with spellwork, which is bullshit because iron dissipates even the strongest of ghosts (see 4.2 as reference), like rock salt does with demons. Those are hard and fast rules, show. “It was what he was most afraid of,” Sammy explains. Dean, back to being normal, doesn’t care what Sammy did to the ghost that was inadvertently killing people. “On the upside, I’m still alive, so go team!” Sammy asks Dean how he’s feeling. Judging by how he looks? I’d say pretty damn good. He’s wearing one layer, everyone, and it’s a tight grey shirt. He squints against the yellow sun like a model that’s "Too Sexy" for everything. Sammy also thinks he’s photo shoot for Stetson For Men, because he is artfully draped against the side of the Metallicar, one hip popped, hand in his pocket, and filling out his denim shirt the way all men should. Man, The Battle For The Pretty will have to be a tie. Again! If you’re keeping score, it’s Jared 1, Jensen 0, and two ties.

Dean’s bravado is back with a vengeance. “I’m fine! You want to go huntin’? I’ll hunt. I’ll kill anything.” He boasts, and that's HOT! Kill something, Dean! And do it shirtless! Sammy and Bobby tease him instead. Bobby has to leave, and pointedly tells he boys to drive safely since they are drinking beers while leaning against a car, which sends a bad message to the kiddies. After he drives away, Sammy wonders what Dean saw at the end. “Besides a cop beating my ass?” Dean jokes. “Seriously.” Dean looks down, mulling over if he should tell his brother the truth. He faces him and Sammy eyes fucking glow demonically (proving my theory that Sammy’s been a shapeshifter since episode five). Whether it is a residual hallucination or it actually happened we never know, but Dean swallows, and lies, “Howler Monkeys. Those things creep he hell out of me.” Sammy knows he’s avoiding, so Dean offers this, “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” End scene. Thank God that’s over! It was the funniest episode of “SPN” I’ve ever seen, but that doesn’t make it the best!

I’m not even attempting to recap Dean’s rendition of “Eye of the Tiger” because it’s so awesome, I can’t do it justice. Youtube it, y’all!