Supernatural: Swan Song

My Love is Like a Storybook Story
by Sylvia Bond
Supernatural Episode Review – Season 5, Episode 22
“Swan Song”

Season Five’s final ep opens to the strains of “Carry On My Wayward Son,” by Kansas, which is a good thing, because I think there’d be a fannish uprising if it didn’t happen. The song represents Sam and Dean, their story, and their struggles, and I only associate the song with them. A lot of songs, like “Silent Lucidity” by Queensryche, are that way for me, Show having ruined them for anything else. But a fangirl likes to be ruined now and again, so I’m okay with it.

And I’m very okay with this ep, though I felt a bit maudlin after I watched it the first time, on account of it’s the last ep of the season, and who knows if TPTB will really come through and give us a sixth season. What if this is all there is? In truth, I know there’s a world out there, a real one, but it’s filled with people paying their bills and feeding their fish, and frankly, some weeks, it’s all too much. That’s when I need this, my little treasure that is Show and Sam and Dean Winchester, so I’ll loll here for as long as I can. Luckily, there’s plenty to see.

In the opening scene in MB’s scrap yard, Sam poses on the hood of the Impala like a sleek and self-aware cat, drinking a beer (probably a PBR) and waiting, as the brothers so often do for each other. Dean comes out, grabs himself a PBR from the green Coleman cooler; props to the Props Team for continued use of this silent character. And I like the boys in natural light like this, drinking beer, leaning against the Impala, acting like their scruffy, brotherly selves.

Sam and Dean’s dither is pretty big, because in it Dean says he’s on board with Sam saying yes. He has things to say about Sam being grown up enough to make his own decisions, even though he’s “only little” in Dean’s eyes, and will forever be considered thus, as is the way with big brothers. Dean also indicates that he needs to grow up too, because the time has come, etc.

The conversation is all about them trying to move beyond their familial roles even though that’s impossible. Dean’s making an effort, though, and acknowledges that maybe this time it’s Sam’s turn to save the world. I think (as I always have) that both Sam and Dean would prefer to save the world together (as they have done so many things), but it’s come down to this: Sam let Lucky out, so it’s Sam’s job to lock him back up. Even though both boys have a shared responsibility for the whole thing, Sam’s guilt level is a wee bit higher, so this doesn’t surprise me at all.

Then the story gets dark and dank from there. Sam and the gang drain a few demons for their blood, and it quickly becomes obvious that Sam means to drink it. All. Which, seeing as there are four gallon jugs of coagulating blood is staying a lot. MB and Dean talk about how the apocalypse is soon upon them, but it’s obvious that for all his talk about letting Sam do his thing, Dean still keeps a watchful eye on little brother.

Sam and Dean drive off in the Impala. In the rain. There’s some cool chiaroscuro lighting on rain-dappled faces, and for me it really doesn’t get any better than this. The boys discuss Dean’s bad feelings about their plans, and then Sam talks seriously to Dean, but not about last words of goodbye. It’s not that all the words between them have been said and there’s nothing more to say. It’s that between them they are saying it, and have been saying it, hello, and goodbye, and I love you, every minute of every day. So there’s no point saying it if it’s already being said. I really liked this scene, obviously.

Sam insists that after Sam goes, that Dean go to Lisa’s and have BBQs and football games, the whole works. This is Sam’s dream for himself, of course, but you can tell Sam means it to be something good for Dean. There’s no grandstanding here, no flinging himself upon the barricade in the dramatic second act. For him, this is all there is, his destiny and this quiet moment with the person he loves most in the world, that is to say, Dean. Personally, I think that Sam’s not saving the world, per se, he’s saving the world because in doing that, he can make sure that there’s a Dean in it. His Dean. And that, as they say, is all that she wrote for Sam.

Dean argues that of course he will save Sam, or die trying. He doesn’t promise Sam that he will do what Sam asks about Lisa, however. It’s a bit ironic, of course, that Sam yearns for something he’s never had, and that Dean has had, and doesn’t really yearn for. I mean, if you ask some die hard Deangirls, they might tell you that underneath it all, Dean does want those things, too. It’s just that Dean never espoused settling down, whereas Sam did. You could get a room full of fangirls, of both (or all) varieties, and statistics might split the discussion down the middle, or into thirds, at any rate, there’s no predicting what they’d say. Still, it’s fun to think about.

The gang pulls up in Detroit, Michigan and thusly begins the goodbye scenes. Sam exchanges a hug with MB, who is entirely too choked up about all this for my tastes. And then Sam turns to the Soap Angel, who is appropriately confused about a goodbye handshake, which should be accompanied by well-wishes and manly comments. The Soap Angel doesn’t know this (which is appropriate for a fallen angel), and even when he finds out and tries to lie, he mangles it so badly that Sam is forced to smile and tell him to shut the hell up. For Dean, Sam has no goodbyes, not only because there aren’t any, but because Dean is going with him into the devil’s lair.

I especially liked the bit where Sam stands next to the open trunk of the Impala, and without looking at Dean, asks big brother if he minds not watching him drink the demon blood. Dean of course obliges, but it says to me that Sam is very aware of what he is doing, not only how gross it might be to watch him swallow lumpy, clotted blood, but what it represents, which is the penultimate act in going darkside. Then, when he’s finished, Sam strides from around the back of the Impala, his mouth stained red. The change between the diffident, round-shouldered little brother to this long legged, broad shouldered, hulked out fighting machine happens in a blink, and it is marvelous.

It’s not groovy tunes being in a room with The Prince of Darkness, however, especially since Sam is going to say yes, and Dean will pretty much never see Sam again. Even if he does, Sam will never be the same again, so it’s the end of everything as they know it. However, Mark Pellegrino is again oozing devilish charm as he welcomes the pair. Even though this is the last time Show will probably use him as Lucky, my hat’s off to him for putting his stamp on this iconic character, making him low-key and creepy and dangerous and frankly mesmerizing enough so that you can’t take your eyes off him.

Dean in this scene is pretty as a picture and twice as sweet. Dean is prepared to have Sam say yes, but really, Dean’s in way over his head. And, as in the last few eps, Ackles has Dean being very aware that he’s in a room with pure evil. I love the perplexed, wary expression, and those eyebrows, signaling like the best semaphore, that he wants to get the hell OUT and take Sam with him. Not to mention get them both as far away from the Devil as possible.

Sam, on the other hand, is spitting into the wind, tugging on Superman’s cape, and IN the Devil’s face. His is a scream and dive approach, because if the end is coming, what difference do company manners make? But maybe what gives Sam this nerveless courage is the fact that his faith in Dean is intact and that Dean will rescue him as he always has. I mean, if you’ve grown up knowing your fabulously brave, handsome, and strong big brother will always (always) look out for you, then you would feel at liberty to take on the three biggest bullies on the block. Or think you can take down the Devil.

In this momentous scene, at least two seasons come down to the moment as, with a spit and a snarl, Sam says yes to Lucifer. Yes, to being his meatsuit. And yes, finally, to ending the apocalypse, thank goodness. Because in a way, because of his delay in making up his mind, it’s probably Sam’s fault that the situation on the planet (with the foreclosures, skyrocketing prices, oil spills, and volcanoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, and such) has gotten so out of hand, all because Sam wasn’t going to say yes, and Dean wasn’t going to let him. (So it’s Dean’s fault too! Ah, those brothers, they share everything, don’t they?)

There’s a flash of light, and Sam’s on the floor, looking dark and fabulous, and Dean’s wondering what the hell happened, all angsty and messed up. Then, Dean opens the door into hell with the Magic Rings, and there’s brotherly clutching as he helps Sam to his feet. There’s a hellish wind blowing through Sam’s Samhair as Dean encourages him to do what he came to do. All of a sudden, Sam turns and smirks and by GOD, it’s Him. The Devil. He was only fooling when he made Dean help him to his feet, when they were clutching at each other, struggling against the suck from the pit of hell. Only fooling, and oh man, all fooling should be like this, and oh, my god, is Padalecki beautiful here.

Padalecki’s Lucky is purring and smirky and gliding and inky black silk and ashy smoke and just about as marvelous as I have ever seen evil embodied. Part of it is that the Lighting Guys use that glowing filter to light up Padalecki’s skin eggshell white and smooth, making his eyes glitter like diamond fire. And Padalecki plays it like Pellegrino did; Lucky is the Morning Star and he doesn’t have to flair and rant and pitch smoke through his nose nor stamp his cloven hooves to get attention. The Devil needs no announcement; his coming has long been foretold. He simply arrives, simply IS, and that is enough. Add to that the glint in Sam’s eye (there’s a lot of glinty eyes in this ep), the nasty curve of that normally friendly mouth, and is it any wonder so many have fallen for the temptation of evil and sin? No, it is no wonder, not when it is so handsomely wrapped.

Padalecki’s echoes of Mark Pellegrino, plus his own charm, clearly mark the differences between Sam and Sam as Lucky. This contrast is brought about, I believe, by Padalecki’s treatment of Sam in recent eps. But it’s only in retrospect that I can see that he took Sam’s character back to a slightly more inexperienced version of Sam, so that when he switched to this, the cooler, smokier version of himself, it was effective and startling. It’s a testament to Padalecki’s attentiveness to what he’s doing.

After mocking Dean, Lucky pops himself away, leaving Dean in distress that he’s failed miserably in his Prime Directive, and that is looking after Sam. Baby brother has now met his worst only fate of going completely darkside. Is Dean still thinking of The Dad’s injunction of Dean shooting Sam if he can’t save him? I doubt it, because it’s gone far beyond that, in retrospect, simple order.

Now, even worse, it has come to the point that Dean must not only allow Sam to go darkside, he must help him do it, and then stand by while Sam destroys himself to save the world and get killed in the process. If Dean, as it appears, is not the one to save the world, his job is almost harder. He is the one who is left behind, the only one who is aware of the cost of that saving, of the sacrifices he and his brother made. After all, I think the “we do what we do, but we don’t talk about it” motto is still firmly in place, in spite of everything else.

Lucky arrives in a dark room, populated with people who might be alive or might be dead. He marches into the light, chest straining at the pearl snap buttons, flexing and bunching various muscles, smiling and prideful, and perfectly at ease. He has what he wants in the way of Sam saying yes, so the world is his oyster.

Lucky strides towards the mirrors at the end of the room. At first I thought he meant to pose and preen, as you imagine the Devil might want to do, wanting an audience for his success. Instead, as he gets closer, as Sam’s soul is caught inside of Lucky, so Sam’s soul can be seen in the mirror.

So, okay, let’s talk about Sam and mirrors. Way back in Season 3, in the ep “Fresh Blood“, I began to notice Show’s use of mirrors, and the placement of Sam in them and wondered at that point, if there was any significance to it, or just some really clever camera work by a bored camera operator.

Since that time, there’s been more scenes like it. I’ll just bring up one that comes freely to mind as an example, and that is “Mystery Spot“. In one scene, Sam comes in and rips off his shirt (GUH), and proceeds to stitch up the rip in his side, without help, and without anesthesia. Any fangirl worth her salt knows the scene I’m talking about. Manliness and first aid aside, a part of this scene was filmed by looking at Sam through the mirror, as if we were to focus on this other version of Sam’s darker, more self-reliant, and scarier self. Whether Show did this originally on purpose, or whether it developed because of fans pointing it out, as I’m sure I’m not the only one who noticed, I don’t know. The important thing is the ongoing theme that we are never able to see Sam as a whole, connected person, and, what’s worse, he’s not able to see himself that way.

The differences between the two characters, though played by the same actor, are marked. All the while Lucky is talking to Sam via his reflection in the mirror, some clever person decided that Sam’s face would be presented in broken pieces in the cracked, shadowed mirror, while Lucky’s face would be glowy and intact, with some really close close-ups. Lucky is lit in such a way that you can see every eyelash, every pore, every glint in his eye, every smirk of that lush wide mouth. His Samhair, or in this case, his Luckyhair, curls around darkly from behind his ears, and he’s so full of confidence and swagger that you just want to smack him. That or date him.

In full contrast, is Sam. Sam’s shoulders are rolled, his chin is tucked down. Add that to the fact that the lighting is from above, and you can hardly see any of his features. What’s more, his beautiful Samhair lies flat against his head, so he comes across as a terrified, much younger Sam, out of his depth, and simply freaking out. It’s one thing to think about saying yes, but actually being there inside of Lucky, it’s obvious to see that Sam is scared to death; all the training in the world couldn’t have prepared him enough for this.

Sam and Lucky have a conversation about what Sam needs and wants and is and has, and it’s almost typical bad guy stuff. Except in this case, Lucky knows all of Sam’s buttons and he pushes them one by one. First off is the idea that Sam wasn’t running away from home all those times he ran away from home (which, apparently, wasn’t just the few times that we saw or heard about, but many, other times we, heretofore now, didn’t know about), rather he was running TO home. The Family Winchester was just foster care, and Sam is told that the bottom line is that no one loves him, or, what’s worse, knows him better than Lucky does. His whole life has come down to this moment, and good luck trying to escape fate, kiddo.

Lucky presents Sam with the people who we soon learn stood out in Sam’s history, only not in a good way. Chief among them is Rachel the Prom Date, who, as you might recall, was asked by Sam to the Prom, only she ended up sleeping with Dean. There’s also some reference to what happened with some guy named Doug from that time in East Lansing, Michigan, as well as some teacher who probably gave Sam pure hell. As it turns out, they all were part of the YED’s group, set in place to torment Sam.

Lucky invites Sam to eke revenge and proceeds to do so for him (ripping and tearing off-screen) until here’s a heap of bodies on the floor. Lucky’s hands are covered with blood and he sits on the edge of a stage, looking regal and in charge and exactly like the Prince of Darkness should look, admiring himself and his carnage, just two seconds away from calling for his crown and his scepter and his minions.

Then we see Sam’s reflection in the mirror. He’s a shaking mess, diminished from his broad shouldered mighty striding Sam-ness and spattered with blood. Sam felt he was up to it. He drank nearly four gallons of demon blood but apparently while that was enough to get him invited to the dance, to stay awake and aware, it’s not enough to control Lucky. Facing Lucky must be a bit like facing his worst fears, or, worse, facing the darkest corners of his own soul.

I can’t say enough about this marvelous acting job of Padalecki’s as plays both roles. Sure, go ahead and tell me that duh, that’s what actors do. But seriously, I’ve not seen many opportunities for actors to do what Padalecki is doing here, plus, I’ve not seen any to do it with such verve and confidence, and frankly, all out sexiness. Plus, he’s so devastatingly awesome when he plays evil, his eyes get narrow and sharp, his voice gets low and smoky, and he gets this “I win, so I win” smirk on his face, so you just know he’s loving playing this part.

Dean and the gang are in the street, watching TV monitors in a store window as the apocalypse unfolds across the land. MB makes some teary eyed comment about the end of the world, and I’m like, c’mon people! This isn’t Bobby!! MB is much tougher than that, and should have said something along the lines of, “Guess the Devil’s going to have all our balls filleted for breakfast,” or something equally as brusque and grizzled, to offset Dean’s angst or the Soap Angel’s appropriately flat affect.

Dean, ever on the job, calls Chuck the Prophet to get a location on the final battle between the Archangel Mike and Lucifer. Chuck supplies it, and in spite of the Soap Angel and MB’s protestations, off Dean goes to save his brother, and maybe the world. And seriously, just as saying yes to Lucky was Sam’s destiny, saving Sam is Dean’s destiny, and you can’t have one without the other and neither would I want it.

Stull Cemetery. It’s real and it’s only a few miles from Lawrence, KS. There is a Keep Out/No Trespassing sign, on account of those foolhardy kids who love to sneak in come Halloween night. There are fewer trees than we see here, and Show left out the fact that the fence and gate are chain link and the gate is padlocked, but the idea is the same: it is a desolate and forgotten cemetery that is, according to Wiki (and other sources) an entrance to hell. Also, it’s a known no-flyover zone for the Pope, on account of he’s afraid that the Devil will drag him under by the sharp lapels of his checkered vestments. Naturally, Mike and Lucky would choose it for their encounter.

Tall and graceful, Lucky waits in the cemetery for Mike, who soon shows up and the two of them go at it. They talk about what their Heavenly Father wants from each of them, and what the point of their encounter is. There’s stuff about who The Father loves best, and how Mike is a “good son,” and how Lucky thinks they should think for themselves and not follow orders so blindly.

Show has always placed a heavy focus on family dynamics, particularly sibling rivalry and the pecking order among siblings, so naturally, their conversation eerily echoes the many similar conversations between Sam and Dean over the years. No one likes it much when the Youngest thinks differently than his position in the pecking order allows, and it seems to be no different in Heaven.

The battle between evil and good is an old one. I’m sure that this isn’t the first time that these two have come together to clash swords and cut off each other’s heads because there can be only one. Oh, wait, that’s Highlander, isn’t it, but the idea is the same. Evil will rise and Good must also rise to combat it, otherwise, Evil will take over. And then, everything settles until it’s time to have this particular battle again. And then again and so on, ad infinitum.

But here’s an idea…if Sam is playing Lucky and Adam is Mike (even if it was supposed to be Dean), doesn’t that make The Dad the ideal candidate to represent The Heavenly Father? I’m sure I’m not the only one who sees the parallel there. And, I’ll wager, every single fan of the Show would be willing to contribute at least one dollar to The Brittany Foundation if Jeffrey Dean Morgan could be arranged to be on Show and portray God. After all, he’s played a ghost, so it wouldn’t be a far step at all to have him play another, albeit more significant, supernatural being.

Alternately, and less enjoyably, Show could find a nice bramble and set it on fire to represent the Burning Bush and have some actor with a voice like Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s speaking through it. But I think that Morgan himself, with a five o’clock shadow, scruffy boots and jeans, a ragged flannel shirt, and a glint in his eye would make a much better El Shaddai.

Soon, and in brilliantly iconic style, Dean and The Impala arrive at Stull Cemetery. Appropriately, Dean is not only crashing a party to which he’s not been invited, he’s irreverently playing “Rock of Ages” by Def Leppard, and not on a CD either. No, Dean’s using his good, old fashioned cassette version of the song. And just like Dean used to attempt to umpire the fights between The Dad and Sam, he’s just in time to break up the fight between Mike and Lucky.

While I admire Dean’s verve and style, what I really liked here was the look in Lucky’s eyes as he watches Dean arrive. It was kind of shiny and fond, almost as if he was a little in love with Dean at that moment for having the brass balls to waltz into a heavenly convocation which will surely either end in fire or in ice. (Or, perish the thought, the world will freeze-frame on endless reruns of the Olsen Twins in Full House forever and ever until Jesus comes again). I’m thinking, there’s nothing that the Devil enjoys more than bravado and bad decisions made with style. And Dean’s got both of those, so I can’t blame Lucky for being in love. Or, at the very least, having a huge (albeit momentary) mancrush on Dean.

MB and the Soap Angel, aided by the distraction of a marvelously brave and ballsy Dean, arrive in time for the Soap Angel to lob a Molotov cocktail of holy fire at Mike. He disappears in screaming flames. Then, Lucky promptly explodes the Soap Angel into a gabillion bloody globs. Then, when Bobby tries to interfere, Lucky snaps MB’s head right round his neck. So, Magical Bobby is dead, and it’s about damn time.

Meanwhile, Lucky grabs the lapels of Dean’s leather jacket, and for one unholy second I actually thought that there was going to be wall slamming, or at least car slamming, since there is no wall. That or there was going to be kissing. And not the good kind, no, in this case, I thought Lucky was going to deliver a Judas kiss right before Lucky dispatched Dean with unhealthy ease. Because weren’t we foretold that there would be the death of a “beloved character” in this ep? Yeah, sure, MB and the Soap Angel are dead, but they aren’t beloved by me, so at this point, with only Dean and Sam left, I was freaking because with a promise like that, I’m pretty sure Show meant to keep it.

But anyway, while there is no kiss, there is whumpage, and normally I’m on board for that, as you know. Except this time around, what starts as the good kind of whumpage (artistic and heroic and manly and entertaining) quickly turns into the bad kind of whumpage. Lucky goes at Dean and starts talking about snapping bones, and keeps pounding on Dean, and all the while Dean is telling Sam (in horribly well-done broken tones) that he’s not leaving, he’s not going. Frankly, it’s horrible to watch because soon Dean’s face goes from attractively bleeding to a bloody, pulpy mess. I like my whumpage, but this went too far. Or it went appropriately far, if it was (as I think it was) Show’s objective to make this as un-fun and realistic as possible.

So what stops Lucky from killing Dean? Simply put, it is The Impala, which has been, lo these many years, a constant, in fact, the only contestant in Sam and Dean’s life. The sun reflects off the well-loved and highly-polished chrome and into Lucky’s green, green eyes, and it is The Impala and the boys shared history that stops Lucky right in his tracks.

Throughout the ep, the story of The Impala is recounted in a voiceover narrative courtesy of Chuck the Prophet. Show typically doesn’t do voiceovers like this, and while I would normally consider it as clunky as the tacked-on voiceover at the end of “Blast From the Past”, this time I thought it was brilliant and artfully crafted. Because in addition to the fact that Chuck’s voice is nice to listen to, we get background on the boys and an affirmation on the point of the story, and that is, them, their relationship, and their journeys together.

I loved that Show showed us this. Showed us Sam and Dean living in that car. There are some lovely, lovely details of the Wee boys stuffing toys where they ought not to go and carving their initials beneath the padding in the back seat. I loved watching Wee Sam stuffing an army man in the ash tray, and Wee Dean force feeding Legos into the heating vents. (Although, considering their characters, would it have been more appropriate for Wee Sam to be playing with the Legos, somehow being more in keeping with building a home, and Wee Dean to be playing with army men, being more in keeping with being a good soldier? Or were their destinies foretold all along?) Especially nice was the idea that when Dean rebuilt his Best Girl, that he put every rattle, every snap and crackle and pop right back into place.

And then the montage continues, a thousand images and more of brotherly interaction and love and fealty and more love and connection and on and on, like a very satisfying fanvid or fan fiction. A thousand miles to anywhere. A hundred thousand miles to jobs and concerts and motels and stars. All the sleeping and eating and talking (and not talking and stargazing) that went on in that car. Best of all, since the car was home, that the boys were never actually homeless. And then it is the final hug that saves Sam: the slow mo of Dean greeting Sam after Dean has sold his soul to bring Sam back.

The montage of the boys’ history was a storybook story, done from the perspective of someone who really cares about these characters and what happens to them. It was done with love. And, if Season Six doesn’t happen, then at least we have this, an homage to brotherly love and history and shared silences, and the endless two-lane highway that traces its way through the boys lives. Marvelous. Thank you, Show.

Post flashback, Sam comes back in control of his own body, aghast at what he’s done to Dean. Before he soldiers on with what must be done, there is goodbye between the bothers. It wasn’t long enough for me, but then, with imminent torture waiting for Sam in hell, I don’t think it was long enough for the brothers either. But really, there was no goodbye. The boys gulp for air and shake and angst, but it wasn’t enough. Of course, you could say that with the subtle and ever-present undercurrent of love between them, goodbyes that are spoken aloud are unnecessary. Still, I would like to have seen more than a nod of acknowledgement from each of them, which is pretty much all we got. Sam’s going to hell here, to save the frakking world (and Dean), so is a goodbye kiss, or even a touch, too much to ask for?

Sam spreads himself on the wind generated from the mouth of hell (kind of like Apollo in the Star Trek ep “Who Mourns For Adonais?”); he’s ready for his destiny. All of a sudden, Mike arrives and the two of them fall into the pit. Does that mean that Sam’s liable to get out of hell in one piece? Lord, I hope so; I couldn’t stand it if Sam were dead forever. (Even though what’s dead should stay dead is a good motto, it doesn’t, and never should include Sam and Dean.)

The Soap Angel arrives. He’s now been fully reinstated as a real angel, and he proceeds to heal Dean’s wounds, making him beautiful again (whew!), and then he brings MB back to life. I have a tip for Show. If MB’s death was the “death of a beloved character” (which I secretly suspect it was, in spite of my earlier snarky comments), the death of said “beloved character” would be imbued with a whole lot more meaning if said character stayed dead, and I mean dead forever. Otherwise, it ceases to be impactful. At the very least, as Chuck tells us, it’ll be a long time before Dean sees Magical Bobby again, thank goodness.

On his own, Dean drives to Lisa’s. Even though he never promised Sam out loud that he’d do it, I imagine that he still wants to honor Sam in this. Lisa’s pretty magical because (good woman that she is) she senses Dean’s distress. She invites him in, offers him a beer, and then accepts his wordless embrace. He hugs her tight but does not, I note, shed a single tear. But then, when his reason for living and dying and his joy (Sam, Sam, and Sam) has been taken away from him, well, some grief is too deep and painful for tears.

Soon we see Dean at the table, drinking whiskey, no ice, with doleful attentiveness. Outside in the street, a shadowy figure appears, and just as it does, the streetlight fizzles out, which is typical of unearthly arrivals. The figure looks a whole lot like Sam, but, since he doesn’t go right up and knock at the door, I suspect that it is not Sam, but Lucky. Or maybe it is Sam, only he’s hesitant to go break up what looks very much (from the outside) like a Happy Family. (I’ve heard that some fans are taking umbrage with the whole Lisa thing. But seriously, she’s a classy lady and Dean could do far worse. Plus, I have a good feeling that she is merely a way station for Dean, and next season, Sam will come back and the two of them will hit the road once more, saving people, hunting things.)

There is so much I didn’t say and wanted to about this ep, so much that was good and meaningful and that worked. (Not to mention I didn’t talk nearly enough about the Samhair, but it’s a given that it was perfect.) And I still have tons of questions I’d like answered, please. Like, for example, when Sam shows up, is he still Lucky? Will Dean and Lisa stay together long enough to make a baby? Will Jeffrey Dean Morgan ever get back to play The Dad again? And is Chuck the Prophet really God? Did Sam really avert the apocalypse, or will next year bring more of the same? And what would Dean rather have, peace or freedom? Overall, I loved this episode and secretly hope that Show will give Padalecki an opportunity to play Lucky a few more times before he gets killed off, although I think Show is MEAN to make us wait all summer for any of it.

Sylvia Bond is a ten-year technical writing veteran with too many degrees under her belt to count. She lives in Colorado, but does not ski, preferring instead to spend her money and time at the annual Great American Beer Festival, taking road trips across the United States, and reading historical fiction from the comfort of her fluffy green arm chair. She has been involved in fandom since 1993 and been writing fanfic since approximately 1993. What she finds most amazing about fandom (besides the open heartedness of fans and the sheer amount of creativity) is how visible fandom has become. “In my day,” she says, “we had to hide behind P.O. boxes to get fanfic. But nowadays, people wear t-shirts that shout their affiliation and share their shiny toys on the internet.” It’s a wonderful world.

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