SPN - "Death's Door"
So, I have my laptop back, and I have a Friday off. Which means that if I can focus, I can get the highlights of my review done.
There's a lot going on in this ep, so much emotion that really, I don't know that I can add much to it. A lot of it speaks for itself, no?
We do have the CSI innards cam going, to go "into" and "outside of" Bobby--into his mental world, and back to the outside world. The pain in the brothers' voices is heartbreaking, and we know we're in for a rough ride on this one. Sam is all efficient intensity while Dean, at the wheel, has a near panic in his voice and needs to know what's going on.
As we zoom back into Bobby's head, we're back in the forest tracking whatever is snacking on campers from last week. Part dream, mostly memory, Bobby knows almost immediately that something is wrong, and it only takes him a little time to figure out or to remember that he got shot in the head. Immediately, he remembers that there's something he needs to relay to Sam and Dean, something of great importance, and this becomes Bobby's last, important mission--make contact with the real Sam and Dean in the waking world, and give them the intel he discovered in Dick Roman's office. He can't grasp it entirely, but he remembers numbers, scribbles them down, and tucks them away in his pocket.
Suddenly, he's with Karen, in their bedroom, ready for a night of romance. Candlelight, wine, Karen wearing a silky white slip. Bobby remembers this.
But he doesn't remember a storm rolling in, and when he looks out the window, I think how cool the moon reflected on the glass is, and how it disappears like a mist of breath on glass, and how the fog hangs low to the ground and a boy comes running to the house from the shed. It doesn't take a genius to figure out Bobby is seeing himself as a child. (What we're seeing here is, I just now realize, is Bobby after making one of the most significant kills of his life.)
As the lightening strikes and the rain starts, Bobby finds himself on a job with Rufus. (Rufus! \o/) We get Bobby and Rufus one last time. \o/ Bobby knows he needs Rufus's help to figure out his messed up fruitcake.
And you know? I really kinda love Rufus. I love how he calls Bobby "baby boy." Because Bobby is just a wee!hunter in this memory, probably one of their early hunts together.
There's goes teen!Bobby running down the sidewalk in the rain, and then he's there, telling Bobby "God's gonna punish you" as a glass of milk shatters on a floor of red and black tile. I like the disjointedness of the scattered pieces, clues to Bobby's psyche and later, how he became more than the example he was given.
This hunt is in a church, and as Bobby stands watching the choir group, an earthquake hits, the choir people start to vanish, and the lights go out, one by one. Memories are disappearing, and the lights are going out.
And there stands . . .
Chuck? Is that Chuck? It doesn't sound like Chuck (I often recognize actors by their voices before anything else). But it sure looks like Chuck. O.o No, it's not Chuck. Reaper, then.
Ha! Yes. Reaper.
But he could certainly be Chuck's brother.
And he's apparently on a schedule, what with the pocket watch and all.
"Gin-soaked rat maze." I find that description to be quite . . . descriptive.
Bobby runs from the reaper into . . .
An everyday memory of Sam and Dean, being brothers and annoying the heck out of each other.
The house, when it was his, and with Sam and Dean there, this is Bobby's safe space, his haven.
And I love that Dean and Sam are arguing about Chuck Norris vs. Jet Li. Sam taking the side of analysis of the situation and criteria, while Dean is all down with the practical "the point is survival." And Dean looking to Bobby for back-up.
But Bobby's on a mission and must keep going. He opens the sliding doors to the kitchen, and there's his mother, admonishing him, "It's like you want him to get mad." But Bobby doesn't want to face this memory, and it sends him back to . . .
. . . the hunt with Rufus. In the crypt of the church, Rufus is tossing Bobby a shotgun. (Interesting how the memory of his home life sent him to a memory of someone arming him for battle.)
The ghost they're putting down was jilted at the alter, and so kills men who break their girls' hearts. (Hearts in my cupcakes! Oh, wait. Wrong ep.)
Back in the waking world, the boys have arrived at the hospital, and Bobby is being wheeled into the ER. (I hope there are no leviathans at this hospital.)
I find the dynamic between the boys in this very interesting. Usually, it seems to be Sam looking to Dean for cues, but here, Sam is focused on Bobby, and Dean is looking to Sam for cues of support. Sam might be the one with the hallucinations, but Dean is the one who's going to fall apart if Bobby doesn't pull through.
Here we get cross-cutting between real world and dreamworld. In Bobby's dream/memory, his heart is being crushed by the vengeful spirit. In the real world, Bobby is crashing. The med staff pulls the curtain, and there's a bright glowing light behind the curtain as they work in silhouette. Which makes me say, "Now they're just showing off."
And again, Dean looks to Sam.
Rufus rescues Bobby, Bobby finishes the burn, and in the real world, Bobby skates past this particular close call. Because he's on a mission to get important information to his boys.
But Rufus nearly gets himself killed, and now we know why Bobby dug up this memory. He needs to know how Rufus got past his own near death.
The young doctor comes out to tell Dean, "We'll just have to see." And Dean, eyes filled with despair, looks pleadingly at Sam.
Sam, fret of his own dancing across his face, will soon find himself in the position of having to be the support for his brother.
Bobby sees the kid again, and up to this point, doesn't recognize who the kid is. Interesting.
There's Rufus, being wheeled out of the hospital, telling the nurse to call him. Ha! (So, Rufus was the "Dean" of this relationship, while Bobby was the "Sam"?)
Here's a delightful scene of exposition. Rufus explains how he avoided death: find the right door to the exit. To do that you have to go through your worst memory. Bobby explains that he's in a coma and dying, and that he has to get the information that scribbled on the paper to Sam and Dean.
I'm also oddly fascinated by Rufus's earring.
Earthquake, which means reaper on the way. Bobby needs his partner on this. And so now we know: the most important people in Bobby's life--those whose memories held onto most tightly--were Karen, Rufus, Sam and Dean. His wife, his best friend, and his "nephews" "sons."
Rufus questions the bride-ghost calling Bobby a heartbreaker, because Bobby is a family man if Rufus ever saw one. Well, that narrows things down for Bobby.
This scene between Bobby and Karen . . . It just hurts so much. He wasn't honest with her about his reasoning for not wanting to have kids. He never explained to her why. Probably never told her about his upbringing. She lashes out in a fit of anger and betrayal, but he's hurting so much, too. They're both hurting--Bobby because he's hurt the love of his life, and Karen because she feels betrayed. And they never got a chance to resolve it. The biggest regret of his life.
Rufus brings Bobby back to the task at hand and tells him to try the door now. Bobby opens the door to a bright light and steps into . . .
a crisp, clear day in 1989(ish). A park, and Rufus is standing at his side. They watch as Bobby of then plays a game of catch with wee!Dean. It's a memory that makes Bobby smile. Interesting how memories of domestic dispute are buffered by memories of the boys (Dean, especially.)
(Dean doesn't quite get it. He's supposed to practice with the double-barrel. It's been pointed out that this is approximately the same time as "Something Wicked," and that practicing with a double-barrel harkens back to that night in the motel. An interesting connection, but not, I think, completely necessary for the importance of the scene. It does add a layer, though.)
"You know, for a guy who'd rather break his wife's heart than give her a baby, you make a hell of a nanny."
Bobby needs to find another door.
On the way to the door, Rufus really wants to know why no kids for Bobby. As Bobby says it, dad was a mean drunk, and he figured he'd be just like him. No good passing that on. Rufus says Bobby's more of a cranky drunk than a mean drunk. Ha! Seriously, I do enjoy the Bobby and Rufus Show.
Bobby slides open the doors . . .
to the kitchen where his mom is fearfully serving his dad dinner. Just so.
In his eagerness to please his dad, Bobby knocks a glass of milk off the table while trying to pass the biscuits. Interesting! The previous flash of the broken glass and spilt milk was on black and red tile. Here, it's Bobby's kitchen of blue and white tile. Black and red. Darkness and blood. That's how Bobby remembers the incident impressionistically.
I well and truly loathe how Bobby's father treats his family. I have no patience for deliberate cruelty like that.
But for Bobby, this was any given Tuesday, which we all know as well as Rufus means that this is the memory (or memories) that Bobby needs to face to get out.
Earthquake means reaper, but Bobby has a way to stop the reaper. (Because he's been hanging around Winchesters too long.)
Meanwhile, back in the real world, it's a wait and see situation.
And the dynamic continues--Dean just barely holding on by a thread, grasping at anything that even looks like a shred of hope for Bobby, and Sam with his realism and pragmatism.
And there's a dude skulking around in the background. I hope he's not a leviathan.
He's looking for Bobby's next of kin. Which is, of course, Dean.
This next scene is made of all kinds of win with the emotion and the tension and the anger and pain thrumming under the surface. The hospital rep asks about organ donation and viability (and I'm thinking, "Not likely, dude. Not with all that drinking"), and Dean ratchets up with each comment. "I do my job! Do your jobs! Save him!" And I can't help but think that's such a heartbreaking, real reaction--regardless of what Dean's "job" might be. I see him there in his workaday clothes, and I think, he could be a construction worker or an auto mechanic, a firefighter or an LEO or a soldier, and the line rings so true regardless.
It also harkens back to the conversation Dean had with Bobby, with Bobby telling Dean that he had to find a reason to do the job. Love, money, revenge, a $10 bet, but he had to have a reason to get the job done. Well, Dean does his job. Now he expects the doctors to do their job and save Bobby.
Bobby's death is not an option for Dean. (The last time it was a possibility, he threatened to strap Sam in the car and drive the both of them off the pier.) Finally, he's reached his breaking point, but he's still in control.
He takes a swing, but it's a warning shot. He orders the guy to walk away. And I love that bit. The anger, the power, but no loss of control. Yet. Not with someone who's just doing his job.
No, Dean would rather have it out with someone who deserves it. Like Dick Roman, who actually put Bobby in the hospital to begin with.
(Ah! Their usual hospital exterior location.)
Dick's luxury sedan is taking up two parking spaces (I hate that), and Dean is just spoiling for a fight. He calls Dick out, taunts him, mocks him with the possibility of any action Dick takes going viral on the 'Net. The former apprentice to Hell's torturer tells Dick that Dick will wish he could be killed. Dick laughs him off, laughs at Dean's threats, until . . . Until Dean gets in his face and tells him, "You're either laughing because you're scared, or you're laughing because you're stupid." And there. Right there. We see a crack in Dick's smug calmness. Just a brief glimpse of uncertainty, of, perhaps, Dick realizing what Crowley already knows--that those who underestimate the Winchesters end up dead. "All those angels, all those demons, all those sons of bitches, they just don't get it, do they Sammy?" "No they don't, Dean." "You see, [Dick], we're the ones you should be afraid of."
"I'll see you soon, Dick."
Bobby and Rufus prepare to work some mojo to slow the reaper down. Oddly, books in Bobby's memory are being wiped blank.
Sam is waiting outside Bobby's cubicle, and Dean joins him after retrieving coffee to recover from his confrontations. Dean asks for an update, and Sam tells him that Bobby started fighting the ventilator and is breathing on his own (Dean grabs at this as encouraging), but there's talk of cutting out dead brain tissue.
Sam points out to Dean that they need to talk about what could happen. Dean doesn't want to, why do they have to. "Because it's real," Sam says. This coming from the guy fighting off hallucinations of Lucifer. Still, Dean refuses to talk about it. "We've been through enough." Bobby's death is not an option for Dean, and he walks away.
I can't help but think that in addition to simply losing Bobby, Sam recognizes the distinct possibility that if Bobby dies, he'll lose Dean as well.
Sam sits down to gather his thoughts, collect himself, when his eyes shift, and he starts rubbing his palm, his recently acquired gesture of staying in the present. I can't help but think that halLucifer is saying just that. "I might not be real Sam, but this definitely is. Bobby's dying, and when he's gone, Dean is next. He's walking that tightrope as it is. The knife's edge of sanity, Sammy, and all it takes is a tiny little nudge to send him over the edge.
"Then it's just you and me, kiddo."
Inside Bobby's head, closets are going empty and the light outside is going out. Quick retreat to a memory of the day playing catch with Dean, this time talking to John about letting the kids be kids, and being well aware that he's not their dad.
He turns around, and the drawer's gone empty, too.
Man, so many good scenes in this ep! Rufus and Bobby do their thing and trap the reaper.
Things are going blank, darkness is coming, memories (photos) are becoming fuzzy. He's going to die. Bobby's done more than most guys who've been given his kind of life. He's helped, he's done. He's earned it. He knows what the alternative is, as Rufus reminds him that ghosts don't stay in their right minds, and some hunter will have to cut him down. (And wouldn't it be just their luck that it would be Sam and Dean?) He's done enough.
But Bobby doesn't care, because Sam and Dean are his boys.
And for the sake of his boys, he will confront the memory of his father, and what happened that night.
"As fate would have it, I adopted two boys, and they grew up great. They grew up heroes."
And there we have it, Bobby confronting the memory of his father, and the lies his father had convinced him of. Lies that made him break his wife's heart, the biggest regret of his life.
(Some people might see this bit as invalidating John's role of father in Sam and Dean's life. I don't see it that way at all. Because John raised those boys. Bobby didn't say "I raised them to be heroes." He said "they grew up." And they grew up under both John's and Bobby's tutelage. Bobby was a balance to John. John was so focused on keeping the boys safe that he kind of forgot how to let them have fun. Bobby was the safe place where they could have fun.)
In the real world, they're prepping to take Bobby to surgery. (And Sam's the one who jumps in and asks what's happening.)
The final confrontation, Bobby--a kid--by necessity, protecting his family. Shoots his father in the head (matching bullet wounds, Bobby and Ed). Not the preferred solution, but one born out of desperation. Bobby tells his younger self to bury the body out behind the woodshed. I'm guessing there was a full moon that night, too.
It's been suggested that the demon that possessed Karen was the spirit of Bobby's father after having spent all that time in Hell. An intriguing concept, and one I don't really want to contemplate right now. I'm also hoping that once Bobby knew the score, he salted and burned his dad's bones.
And now Bobby has his exit back to the waking world to finish his quest.
In the waking world, Sam gives Bobby his thanks. Dean is pretty much speechless. And as the boys step away, Bobby reaches for them. Dean grabs a pen for Bobby.
Bobby writes the numbers on Sam's palm. Calls them idjits. And leaves.
His mission is over, his quest complete. He's given them intel to carry on and told them he loves them from his heart.
*cries a little*
And as the med staff jumps to action around them, the world moves in slow motion for Dean (and Sam). Because this . . . this was their last connection to their life before--before demons and apocalypse. Before love lost and Hell. This was their last true ally, who knew them as well as they know themselves, maybe better. They've been cut adrift, with only each other to buoy them up.
And this is one more stone falling away from the narrow ledge of Dean's sanity.
For Bobby, one last memory, one last island. The house he was raised in, the house he shared with Karen, the house that was the closest thing to a permanent "home" the boys ever knew. Everything else has been burned away by the bullet.
The reaper pleads one last time with Bobby to come with him. "They'll be okay without you."
One last memory (in beautiful soft focus). Beer and a Chuck Norris marathon, and Sam and Dean arguing about snack food. Licorice vs. peanut butter and banana sandwich. "I stand by that sandwich." "Little chewy pieces of Heaven."
And then . . .
They're gone, too.
A life well-lived. A life well-loved.
Well done, Mr. Singer. Well done, indeed.
There's a lot going on in this ep, so much emotion that really, I don't know that I can add much to it. A lot of it speaks for itself, no?
We do have the CSI innards cam going, to go "into" and "outside of" Bobby--into his mental world, and back to the outside world. The pain in the brothers' voices is heartbreaking, and we know we're in for a rough ride on this one. Sam is all efficient intensity while Dean, at the wheel, has a near panic in his voice and needs to know what's going on.
As we zoom back into Bobby's head, we're back in the forest tracking whatever is snacking on campers from last week. Part dream, mostly memory, Bobby knows almost immediately that something is wrong, and it only takes him a little time to figure out or to remember that he got shot in the head. Immediately, he remembers that there's something he needs to relay to Sam and Dean, something of great importance, and this becomes Bobby's last, important mission--make contact with the real Sam and Dean in the waking world, and give them the intel he discovered in Dick Roman's office. He can't grasp it entirely, but he remembers numbers, scribbles them down, and tucks them away in his pocket.
Suddenly, he's with Karen, in their bedroom, ready for a night of romance. Candlelight, wine, Karen wearing a silky white slip. Bobby remembers this.
But he doesn't remember a storm rolling in, and when he looks out the window, I think how cool the moon reflected on the glass is, and how it disappears like a mist of breath on glass, and how the fog hangs low to the ground and a boy comes running to the house from the shed. It doesn't take a genius to figure out Bobby is seeing himself as a child. (What we're seeing here is, I just now realize, is Bobby after making one of the most significant kills of his life.)
As the lightening strikes and the rain starts, Bobby finds himself on a job with Rufus. (Rufus! \o/) We get Bobby and Rufus one last time. \o/ Bobby knows he needs Rufus's help to figure out his messed up fruitcake.
And you know? I really kinda love Rufus. I love how he calls Bobby "baby boy." Because Bobby is just a wee!hunter in this memory, probably one of their early hunts together.
There's goes teen!Bobby running down the sidewalk in the rain, and then he's there, telling Bobby "God's gonna punish you" as a glass of milk shatters on a floor of red and black tile. I like the disjointedness of the scattered pieces, clues to Bobby's psyche and later, how he became more than the example he was given.
This hunt is in a church, and as Bobby stands watching the choir group, an earthquake hits, the choir people start to vanish, and the lights go out, one by one. Memories are disappearing, and the lights are going out.
And there stands . . .
Chuck? Is that Chuck? It doesn't sound like Chuck (I often recognize actors by their voices before anything else). But it sure looks like Chuck. O.o No, it's not Chuck. Reaper, then.
Ha! Yes. Reaper.
But he could certainly be Chuck's brother.
And he's apparently on a schedule, what with the pocket watch and all.
"Gin-soaked rat maze." I find that description to be quite . . . descriptive.
Bobby runs from the reaper into . . .
An everyday memory of Sam and Dean, being brothers and annoying the heck out of each other.
The house, when it was his, and with Sam and Dean there, this is Bobby's safe space, his haven.
And I love that Dean and Sam are arguing about Chuck Norris vs. Jet Li. Sam taking the side of analysis of the situation and criteria, while Dean is all down with the practical "the point is survival." And Dean looking to Bobby for back-up.
But Bobby's on a mission and must keep going. He opens the sliding doors to the kitchen, and there's his mother, admonishing him, "It's like you want him to get mad." But Bobby doesn't want to face this memory, and it sends him back to . . .
. . . the hunt with Rufus. In the crypt of the church, Rufus is tossing Bobby a shotgun. (Interesting how the memory of his home life sent him to a memory of someone arming him for battle.)
The ghost they're putting down was jilted at the alter, and so kills men who break their girls' hearts. (Hearts in my cupcakes! Oh, wait. Wrong ep.)
Back in the waking world, the boys have arrived at the hospital, and Bobby is being wheeled into the ER. (I hope there are no leviathans at this hospital.)
I find the dynamic between the boys in this very interesting. Usually, it seems to be Sam looking to Dean for cues, but here, Sam is focused on Bobby, and Dean is looking to Sam for cues of support. Sam might be the one with the hallucinations, but Dean is the one who's going to fall apart if Bobby doesn't pull through.
Here we get cross-cutting between real world and dreamworld. In Bobby's dream/memory, his heart is being crushed by the vengeful spirit. In the real world, Bobby is crashing. The med staff pulls the curtain, and there's a bright glowing light behind the curtain as they work in silhouette. Which makes me say, "Now they're just showing off."
And again, Dean looks to Sam.
Rufus rescues Bobby, Bobby finishes the burn, and in the real world, Bobby skates past this particular close call. Because he's on a mission to get important information to his boys.
But Rufus nearly gets himself killed, and now we know why Bobby dug up this memory. He needs to know how Rufus got past his own near death.
The young doctor comes out to tell Dean, "We'll just have to see." And Dean, eyes filled with despair, looks pleadingly at Sam.
Sam, fret of his own dancing across his face, will soon find himself in the position of having to be the support for his brother.
Bobby sees the kid again, and up to this point, doesn't recognize who the kid is. Interesting.
There's Rufus, being wheeled out of the hospital, telling the nurse to call him. Ha! (So, Rufus was the "Dean" of this relationship, while Bobby was the "Sam"?)
Here's a delightful scene of exposition. Rufus explains how he avoided death: find the right door to the exit. To do that you have to go through your worst memory. Bobby explains that he's in a coma and dying, and that he has to get the information that scribbled on the paper to Sam and Dean.
I'm also oddly fascinated by Rufus's earring.
Earthquake, which means reaper on the way. Bobby needs his partner on this. And so now we know: the most important people in Bobby's life--those whose memories held onto most tightly--were Karen, Rufus, Sam and Dean. His wife, his best friend, and his "nephews" "sons."
Rufus questions the bride-ghost calling Bobby a heartbreaker, because Bobby is a family man if Rufus ever saw one. Well, that narrows things down for Bobby.
This scene between Bobby and Karen . . . It just hurts so much. He wasn't honest with her about his reasoning for not wanting to have kids. He never explained to her why. Probably never told her about his upbringing. She lashes out in a fit of anger and betrayal, but he's hurting so much, too. They're both hurting--Bobby because he's hurt the love of his life, and Karen because she feels betrayed. And they never got a chance to resolve it. The biggest regret of his life.
Rufus brings Bobby back to the task at hand and tells him to try the door now. Bobby opens the door to a bright light and steps into . . .
a crisp, clear day in 1989(ish). A park, and Rufus is standing at his side. They watch as Bobby of then plays a game of catch with wee!Dean. It's a memory that makes Bobby smile. Interesting how memories of domestic dispute are buffered by memories of the boys (Dean, especially.)
(Dean doesn't quite get it. He's supposed to practice with the double-barrel. It's been pointed out that this is approximately the same time as "Something Wicked," and that practicing with a double-barrel harkens back to that night in the motel. An interesting connection, but not, I think, completely necessary for the importance of the scene. It does add a layer, though.)
"You know, for a guy who'd rather break his wife's heart than give her a baby, you make a hell of a nanny."
Bobby needs to find another door.
On the way to the door, Rufus really wants to know why no kids for Bobby. As Bobby says it, dad was a mean drunk, and he figured he'd be just like him. No good passing that on. Rufus says Bobby's more of a cranky drunk than a mean drunk. Ha! Seriously, I do enjoy the Bobby and Rufus Show.
Bobby slides open the doors . . .
to the kitchen where his mom is fearfully serving his dad dinner. Just so.
In his eagerness to please his dad, Bobby knocks a glass of milk off the table while trying to pass the biscuits. Interesting! The previous flash of the broken glass and spilt milk was on black and red tile. Here, it's Bobby's kitchen of blue and white tile. Black and red. Darkness and blood. That's how Bobby remembers the incident impressionistically.
I well and truly loathe how Bobby's father treats his family. I have no patience for deliberate cruelty like that.
But for Bobby, this was any given Tuesday, which we all know as well as Rufus means that this is the memory (or memories) that Bobby needs to face to get out.
Earthquake means reaper, but Bobby has a way to stop the reaper. (Because he's been hanging around Winchesters too long.)
Meanwhile, back in the real world, it's a wait and see situation.
And the dynamic continues--Dean just barely holding on by a thread, grasping at anything that even looks like a shred of hope for Bobby, and Sam with his realism and pragmatism.
And there's a dude skulking around in the background. I hope he's not a leviathan.
He's looking for Bobby's next of kin. Which is, of course, Dean.
This next scene is made of all kinds of win with the emotion and the tension and the anger and pain thrumming under the surface. The hospital rep asks about organ donation and viability (and I'm thinking, "Not likely, dude. Not with all that drinking"), and Dean ratchets up with each comment. "I do my job! Do your jobs! Save him!" And I can't help but think that's such a heartbreaking, real reaction--regardless of what Dean's "job" might be. I see him there in his workaday clothes, and I think, he could be a construction worker or an auto mechanic, a firefighter or an LEO or a soldier, and the line rings so true regardless.
It also harkens back to the conversation Dean had with Bobby, with Bobby telling Dean that he had to find a reason to do the job. Love, money, revenge, a $10 bet, but he had to have a reason to get the job done. Well, Dean does his job. Now he expects the doctors to do their job and save Bobby.
Bobby's death is not an option for Dean. (The last time it was a possibility, he threatened to strap Sam in the car and drive the both of them off the pier.) Finally, he's reached his breaking point, but he's still in control.
He takes a swing, but it's a warning shot. He orders the guy to walk away. And I love that bit. The anger, the power, but no loss of control. Yet. Not with someone who's just doing his job.
No, Dean would rather have it out with someone who deserves it. Like Dick Roman, who actually put Bobby in the hospital to begin with.
(Ah! Their usual hospital exterior location.)
Dick's luxury sedan is taking up two parking spaces (I hate that), and Dean is just spoiling for a fight. He calls Dick out, taunts him, mocks him with the possibility of any action Dick takes going viral on the 'Net. The former apprentice to Hell's torturer tells Dick that Dick will wish he could be killed. Dick laughs him off, laughs at Dean's threats, until . . . Until Dean gets in his face and tells him, "You're either laughing because you're scared, or you're laughing because you're stupid." And there. Right there. We see a crack in Dick's smug calmness. Just a brief glimpse of uncertainty, of, perhaps, Dick realizing what Crowley already knows--that those who underestimate the Winchesters end up dead. "All those angels, all those demons, all those sons of bitches, they just don't get it, do they Sammy?" "No they don't, Dean." "You see, [Dick], we're the ones you should be afraid of."
"I'll see you soon, Dick."
Bobby and Rufus prepare to work some mojo to slow the reaper down. Oddly, books in Bobby's memory are being wiped blank.
Sam is waiting outside Bobby's cubicle, and Dean joins him after retrieving coffee to recover from his confrontations. Dean asks for an update, and Sam tells him that Bobby started fighting the ventilator and is breathing on his own (Dean grabs at this as encouraging), but there's talk of cutting out dead brain tissue.
Sam points out to Dean that they need to talk about what could happen. Dean doesn't want to, why do they have to. "Because it's real," Sam says. This coming from the guy fighting off hallucinations of Lucifer. Still, Dean refuses to talk about it. "We've been through enough." Bobby's death is not an option for Dean, and he walks away.
I can't help but think that in addition to simply losing Bobby, Sam recognizes the distinct possibility that if Bobby dies, he'll lose Dean as well.
Sam sits down to gather his thoughts, collect himself, when his eyes shift, and he starts rubbing his palm, his recently acquired gesture of staying in the present. I can't help but think that halLucifer is saying just that. "I might not be real Sam, but this definitely is. Bobby's dying, and when he's gone, Dean is next. He's walking that tightrope as it is. The knife's edge of sanity, Sammy, and all it takes is a tiny little nudge to send him over the edge.
"Then it's just you and me, kiddo."
Inside Bobby's head, closets are going empty and the light outside is going out. Quick retreat to a memory of the day playing catch with Dean, this time talking to John about letting the kids be kids, and being well aware that he's not their dad.
He turns around, and the drawer's gone empty, too.
Man, so many good scenes in this ep! Rufus and Bobby do their thing and trap the reaper.
Things are going blank, darkness is coming, memories (photos) are becoming fuzzy. He's going to die. Bobby's done more than most guys who've been given his kind of life. He's helped, he's done. He's earned it. He knows what the alternative is, as Rufus reminds him that ghosts don't stay in their right minds, and some hunter will have to cut him down. (And wouldn't it be just their luck that it would be Sam and Dean?) He's done enough.
But Bobby doesn't care, because Sam and Dean are his boys.
And for the sake of his boys, he will confront the memory of his father, and what happened that night.
"As fate would have it, I adopted two boys, and they grew up great. They grew up heroes."
And there we have it, Bobby confronting the memory of his father, and the lies his father had convinced him of. Lies that made him break his wife's heart, the biggest regret of his life.
(Some people might see this bit as invalidating John's role of father in Sam and Dean's life. I don't see it that way at all. Because John raised those boys. Bobby didn't say "I raised them to be heroes." He said "they grew up." And they grew up under both John's and Bobby's tutelage. Bobby was a balance to John. John was so focused on keeping the boys safe that he kind of forgot how to let them have fun. Bobby was the safe place where they could have fun.)
In the real world, they're prepping to take Bobby to surgery. (And Sam's the one who jumps in and asks what's happening.)
The final confrontation, Bobby--a kid--by necessity, protecting his family. Shoots his father in the head (matching bullet wounds, Bobby and Ed). Not the preferred solution, but one born out of desperation. Bobby tells his younger self to bury the body out behind the woodshed. I'm guessing there was a full moon that night, too.
It's been suggested that the demon that possessed Karen was the spirit of Bobby's father after having spent all that time in Hell. An intriguing concept, and one I don't really want to contemplate right now. I'm also hoping that once Bobby knew the score, he salted and burned his dad's bones.
And now Bobby has his exit back to the waking world to finish his quest.
In the waking world, Sam gives Bobby his thanks. Dean is pretty much speechless. And as the boys step away, Bobby reaches for them. Dean grabs a pen for Bobby.
Bobby writes the numbers on Sam's palm. Calls them idjits. And leaves.
His mission is over, his quest complete. He's given them intel to carry on and told them he loves them from his heart.
*cries a little*
And as the med staff jumps to action around them, the world moves in slow motion for Dean (and Sam). Because this . . . this was their last connection to their life before--before demons and apocalypse. Before love lost and Hell. This was their last true ally, who knew them as well as they know themselves, maybe better. They've been cut adrift, with only each other to buoy them up.
And this is one more stone falling away from the narrow ledge of Dean's sanity.
For Bobby, one last memory, one last island. The house he was raised in, the house he shared with Karen, the house that was the closest thing to a permanent "home" the boys ever knew. Everything else has been burned away by the bullet.
The reaper pleads one last time with Bobby to come with him. "They'll be okay without you."
One last memory (in beautiful soft focus). Beer and a Chuck Norris marathon, and Sam and Dean arguing about snack food. Licorice vs. peanut butter and banana sandwich. "I stand by that sandwich." "Little chewy pieces of Heaven."
And then . . .
They're gone, too.
A life well-lived. A life well-loved.
Well done, Mr. Singer. Well done, indeed.