Disclaimer: Supernatural and every character associated with it belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke.
Hi mom, I know it's been a while since we chatted, well since I talked while imagining you were here listening. There's nothing on TV and I didn't want to read, so why not chat? In case you're wondering, Sam and Dean went to hustle pool. You know, Dean promised he'd teach me how to play, but he hasn't gotten round to it. I know he will, he always keeps his word, they both do. So anyway, how about I tell you about that last hunt we were on, huh? It was one hell of a hunt.
The funny thing is, it didn't even start out like usual. We were in this blink-and-you-miss-it town … we hadn't even meant to stop there. We were just driving through. I know we say that frequently to most of the people we meet, but usually it's to stop them asking so many questions about what we're doing in town and where we're from. This time however, it was true. We had only stopped to fill up on snacks and beer, (the beer was for the boys, not me of course) and would you know it, we found a case!
Something was snatching up kids, one or two at a time, and they'd never be seen again. We could have ignored this, pinning it on a perverted human abductor, but there was a witness; a five year old who no one believed. She said a monster had taken her playmate.
We (meaning Sam) quickly established that we were dealing with a rawhead. I was then tasked with finding its location. Yeah me! I always get the fun part! Not! It wasn't hard though. There were only so many places in that town that the thing could hide. It was just a matter of elimination to get the right one.
While I was doing this, with Sam's help of course, Dean was tinkering with tasers. He wouldn't tell us what he was doing to them, but whatever it was, it was making him very happy. By happy I mean outright gleeful. He was whistling (badly) and humming and his eyes were twinkling like he was a crazy person (which he is, I guess we all are). He was so happy that if you'd asked him for one of his nuts, he'd have cut it off and handed it to you, no questions asked. And trust me, he is very attached to his nuts, so that's saying something.
Anyway, the rawhead snatched another couple of kids. The police as usual were going in the wrong direction, after some minor sex offender who had had the misfortune of settling in the area. We had to make a move. Fortunately, Dean was done with his top secret taser project. We went to the house. It was on the outskirts of the town. And man, was it a dump! It's so cliché how these things live! I mean, why can't they grow a brain and try to throw hunters off by renting a room at the Ritz or something!
So, anyway, at the house, Dean revealed the tasers. He'd amped them up to a hundred thousand volts! Magnificent, right? (crazy nuts, but brilliant!) I know many people think Dean is more brawn than brain, and I guess he does propagate the notion himself, but he is smart. I mean, neither Sam nor I would have been able to juice tasers that much. At least not without looking it up on the internet or killing ourselves in the process! Dean however, had conceived it and done it without any instructions. Yeah, there's no doubt he's smart. He just doesn't like books much. I think it borders on aversion!
Oh, sorry, back to the story. Unfortunately, Dean had only boosted two tasers. You have no idea how badly I wanted one of those bad boys. What did I get instead? A bloody flare gun! The glare I gave Dean should have incinerated him on spot, but he didn't even notice. It was dark and he was so excited about using his taser, I might as well have been invisible. Yeah, yeah, I know that buying and customizing three tasers wouldn't have been practical, given our money problems (which I can solve, but I'm not allowed due to security reasons) and the fact that tasers are basically one use weapons, but seriously how much difference would a third taser have made? It wasn't fair! Well, I know Sam didn't get to use his taser either, so at least the two of us are even.
So yeah, we entered the house and found the kids immediately. Dean nearly shot them by the way … but he'll deny that until he's blue in the face. The rawhead grabbed Sam's leg through the tread of the stairs (Stupid creature! Did it think Sam would fit through the slats? He's a giant for Pythagoras' sake!) He did lose his footing though, and he hit his ass on the steps. If we hadn't been on a hunt, I'd have fallen over laughing! Dean shot at the rawhead and missed (Dean missing a target is not a usual occurrence by the way, but it happens sometimes). Sam tossed him his taser and booked it out of there with the little boy, while I carried the girl. She was smaller and totally pliant. I was sternly told to stay with the kids in the car and keep them safe. I stayed put, but only because I had the kids to look out for. Sam went back to get Dean. I wasn't worried about either brother. Dean is the absolute king of hunters. I know he and Sam think it's John, but I haven't hunted with John, so I don't know about that. Therefore, in my opinion, Dean is king, and Sam is a very close second, though he does seem to get himself in trouble more often than me or Dean.
I soothed the kids as best as I could. Told them the rawhead was just a man wearing a lame Halloween costume before Halloween. They scoffed; they obviously didn't believe me. I should have remembered kids are not idiots. But as you know, growing up an only child, I really did believe all kids were stupid with the exception of myself, until the age of five when I met my best friends, who definitely schooled me. I unfortunately, haven't talked to any of them in almost a year. By the way, you and dad never told me I was a conceited little miss and I had to learn the hard way that I wasn't all that! So anyway, the kids didn't believe me, but they were fine. Kids are resilient I tell you. But guess you know that already.
They were telling me about their ordeal when Sam walked out of that house carrying Dean in a fireman's lift. My heart stopped beating, I'm sure of it. No way was this happening, not again, and not so soon after the last time. I mean Sam and I had wounds that were still healing. Damn it! I wondered whether Dean was so determined to die, or whether it was just shitty luck. In a panicky voice (that I really tried to control), I asked what had happened. "They were both standing in water when he shot the damn thing!" was Sam's terse answer as he peeled out of there at a speed that would have made Dean proud if he was conscious. During the drive, we schooled the kids into what to say, and when we got to the hospital, Dean was whisked away and so were the kids. Police was called. I stayed in the background while Sam gave the sketchiest, most unofficial statement in the history of statements. The police guys didn't push for more. I was rather surprised at their incompetence, but extremely glad for it, after all, we had a bigger concern … Dean. We learnt that he had suffered a heart attack. It was apparently a miracle he hadn't died then, but he was still dying (seriously, that doctor needs to redefine his idea of a miracle!) Dean's projected life span was weeks.
Sam went into Dean's room first and talked to him, then stalked out with a determined look on his face. I went in and the two of us had a whale of a time. I'm as good at denial as he is, so it was perfect. I noticed his pallor and the bags under his eyes and the breathless way he spoke, but I said nothing about it. I pretended those things didn't have any implications. Without that pretense, I would probably have started crying and carrying on and the last thing Dean needed then was a hysterical sibling! Sam returned an hour later with a few things for us (in order of importance; two guns, two knives, salt, holy water and clothes), he cleared my stay and disappeared. He didn't return to the hospital for three days. That was unprecedented. Three days of Sam not seeing Dean! Wow! For them two hours is a stretch. I've often wondered how they both survived Sam's college days.
Finally Dean got so worried, and he sent me to check on Sam. Dean, the most paranoid brother in the world, allowed, no asked me to use public transportation since Sam had the car. Eh, I was shocked to say the least. I kept waiting for candy rain to start falling upwards or something.
I hadn't used public transport in forever, and I missed my stop and had to double back! (If my brothers ever find out about this, I'll say it was an evasive countermeasure!) Sam looked terrible. Probably hadn't slept in the three days we hadn't seen him. I know him, he can be scary dogged. I had a quick shower and joined him in his quest. He'd called just about every one. Even John and Bobby, since this time Dean hadn't thought to stop him. Right then, he was waiting on a guy named Joshua to call him back. I convinced him to have a nap as he waited. I took over the calling. Who am I kidding? I'm the best kept secret in the hunting world, I couldn't call anyone. The only hunters I know and who know about me are my brothers, Bobby, John, and Pastor Jim, and Sam had called them all already. So I called the only other person I knew who was loosely tethered to the hunters' world. Cece, my grandmother. The one time we met, she wasn't very helpful, or very welcoming either, but I was trying to save my brother. I would chat up the devil if I had to! (No, of course I wouldn't! I'm simply overstating!)
Cece was actually very civil. I was surprised to say the least. I looked outside again. Nope, no candy rain yet. I told her about Dean, she said she'd see what she could do or find out, and promised to call back. Sam's nap stretched on. I got bored. So I wrote him a note, laid a salt line and left for the hospital. I took the impala; it was late, I couldn't use public transport at that time. Dean would have my head if I did.
"So? Is he fine?" was his demand when I walked into the room. I told him Sam was fine, and that he was doing research. But Dean wasn't going to take my word for it. It's not that he didn't trust me, he just needed to see Sam. When he plucked the oximeter off his finger and the heart monitor started bleeping like crazy, I swear, I nearly died. My brain knew that his taking the oximeter off was the reason for the noise, but my heart was not clued in on that plot line and it nearly gave out. Scores of hospital personnel poured into the room. Dean told them he was leaving. They begged him to reconsider and he said the words that chilled me to the bone. "I'm dying anyway! What difference does it make where I die?" I briefly wondered whether he was determined to break my heart. They had no choice but to let him go. How was I going to explain this to Sam? He'd think I'd broken Dean out. Sam's temper is … let's just say he's a slow burn, but he explodes spectacularly.
But surprisingly, he didn't blow up at us. He probably figured it was Dean's idea, not mine, and he very well couldn't yell at his dying brother, no matter how justified he was. I sighed in relief. Dean cracked a joke. It fell short; Sam didn't find it funny. He called Dean (and possibly me by extension) out on the pretence. I tried to be invisible. Dean shuffled right through the salt line. I replaced it. Sam told us Joshua had called back and told him about a specialist in Nebraska. Turns out, Sam had been intending to spring Dean out of the hospital anyway! No wonder he wasn't mad at us. Dean went to bed. I resisted the urge to crawl in next to him. At about half midnight, I did finally crawl in with Sam. I needed to be close to one of them. (Let's just call it separation anxiety not codependence please!)
We left first thing in the morning (it wasn't light out yet). Sam drove. Dean huddled against the window in the front. Me, I sat in the back feeling sad and cut off from both of them. The air in the car was full of despair. Silent despair (me and Sam) and loud despair (Dean, complaining about bossy younger siblings who wouldn't leave him alone). By the way, when I say loud, I don't mean it literally; I mean it as in contrast to mine and Sam's silence. Dean was too sick to be loud. I really wanted loud, exuberant Dean back.
Cece called me two hours or so into our drive to tell me about a faith healer in Nebraska. A guy called Roy Le Grange. "Oh really?" I drawled while trying to catch Sam's eye in the rear view mirror. He was concentrating on the road (or pretending to anyway!) Dean had fallen asleep. I thanked Cece, we talked for a few minutes, I still couldn't get over the surreality of her civility. Before she hang up, she made me promise to go visit her.
"Who was that?" Sam asked when I hang up. I could tell he wasn't really checking up on me, I think he just didn't want the earlier silence to return. I told him it was Cece. When he asked what she wanted, I told him I had called her about Dean and she was calling back with information. I glanced at Dean before continuing. "She told me about Roy Le Grange, he's a specialist all right!" I said it with a knowing inflection to inform Sam I was onto him. He had the decency to look ashamed; he wore a shit eating grin and tugged at a lock of his hair. However, he wasn't going to confess audibly. He didn't know how deeply asleep Dean was, and didn't want him to jump out of the car and make a run for it. I didn't blame Sam for his half truth. Dean can be very skittish about some things!
Sam refused to let me drive. I think he needed the activity to keep from going crazy. I did some killer sudoku puzzles before falling asleep and woke up when the car stopped. "You've got to be kidding me?" both Dean and I breathed. Dean because he couldn't believe Sam had brought him to a faith healer. Me, I already knew about the faith healer, but I couldn't believe the amount of mud I was seeing. Good Pythagoras! It was like being in a rice paddy but without the rice! How Sam had managed to drive here without the big car sliding all over the place and waking me and Dean, was a mystery! The boys got out, with Dean bitching peevishly, while I was still trying to figure out how I was going to navigate through the mud. Don't get me wrong, if I'm chasing a big bad or running from it, I'll not hesitate to slog through mud, but taking a leisurely walk through it, just for the hell of it? Nah! Besides, I was wearing my favourite boots. I wasn't sure whether the mud would wash off. I wished I'd worn my battered trainers.
Why Roy had not performed the decidedly non-supernatural miracle of paving for his dump is something I'll never understand. I wondered what kind of faith healer he was. Like Dean, I'm a big sceptic. For different reasons though. Me, it's because you and dad raised me agnostic, and then I discovered this paranormal world. So, while I know the supernatural exists, I just can't reconcile myself to the possibility of there being a benevolent god. Dean on the other hand is a sceptic because of all the terrible things he's seen from childhood; terrible things that haven't been balanced out by good things. How Sam who was raised alongside him still has such fierce faith is yet another mystery!
Anyway, I tentatively put a foot out of the car, and it disappeared up to the knee! Okay, I'm exaggerating (only a little), but there really was a lot of mud! For sure, Dean was going to make us take off our shoes to get back in his precious car when we had to leave. I took a leap of … no, not faith, but madness and stood up. I took in the place quickly. Everyone around was more miserable than the weather, and that was pretty miserable. I've never been more appreciative of all the layers of clothes I wear, a quirk I guess I subconsciously picked up from my brothers.
Gosh, that place was dismal. I couldn't stop wondering why Roy didn't do something about it? Well, I later learnt he was blind, so obviously he didn't notice all the mud being dragged into his … wait, I can't even … I have no idea whether that was even a church! We both know I'm not a church going person … obviously! But I've seen churches in books and on the net. I've never seen a church like Roy's. It was a circus tent for all intents and purposes. I figured its charm was on the inside.
My brothers were a ways ahead of me so I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but from their body language, I could tell they were having a contentious talk. Probably Dean taking the piss at Sam's decision to bring him here. I passed the sole protestor and wanted to snicker. How could there be only one protestor? Couldn't they scrounge up more? The place was pathetic! The snicker died when I realised the implications of that word pathetic. If this didn't work, Dean was going to die. So I fervently hoped the reason there was only one protestor was because Roy was authentic, and not a cheating, lying scumbag. The boys had now stopped. They were talking to a girl. Trust Dean to find a ray on a day like that! I caught up to them in time to hear Dean appreciate (a little crudely) the girl they'd been talking to. I rolled my eyes, Sam shook his head. We went inside.
On the inside, the tent church was even less churchy (is that a word?) and there were cameras everywhere! Even Dean commented about it. Sam steamrolled him into seats in the second row. He went complaining all the way, I wanted to laugh when he agitatedly shoved Sam's hands off his shoulders. He was all huffy like a pissed off child. I sat two places behind them, and scanned the place quickly. Dull! There weren't even stained glass windows to stare at and make the whole being in a church thing remotely interesting.
Roy began with the typical church drivel, God is watching … Yeah right! Either God has checked out, or he's dead, or on holiday, or he just doesn't care. God rewards the good and He punishes the corrupt … Bullshit! God, if he exists, is senile and life is a sadistic bitch! You and dad were upstanding citizens, look what happened, and where dad ended up, Dean is good, and he is currently dying. Sam is good, and nothing about his life says reward! I couldn't understand how the people gathered were eating it up. I wanted to yell at them for being unquestioning dolts, but then again, I was there for the same reason they all were. We were all looking for a miracle. Still, I wished the man would just stop talking about God and get to the healing part so we could get out of there. He didn't. "Blah blah blah … it is the Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts."
Oh for the love of Pythagoras! I really wanted to leave, being there was making me itchy. Then Dean whispered (or thought he whispered) to Sam "Yeah, and into their wallets!" I wanted to laugh! (Gosh Dean really has to learn how to whisper) and I wanted to applaud (way to go big bro). I did neither, because surprise, surprise, Dean's obnoxious comment had gotten Roy's attention. I couldn't have been more pleased about Dean's outside inside voice! Anyway, he turned down the offer and I wanted to go over and smack him. Fortunately Sam pushed him to the front. The look on his face, oh how I wish I could have captured it. There is nothing Dean hates more than being the centre of attention (well, unless it's pretty girls with come on looks).
Then Roy asked us to pray with him. What? Up until then, I'd only ever prayed two times before. The first was that time in Rum River when Bobby got hurt and I hadn't heard from Sam and Dean and I was freaking out, and the second had been the previous week! Damn, I couldn't believe it had been just last week that Dean was dying from a curse! Well, that time, I'm not even sure what I said was a prayer. I simply said, "Please don't let him die!" I didn't end it with an Amen and I certainly didn't address it; not to God, or Buddha or Hare Krishna, Gurur Brahma, Hare Rama … ooh I love that song even though I don't relate to the lyrics! The Lord certainly isn't sweet!
Oh, sorry I digress. So yeah, I prayed the same prayer, "Please don't let him die!" and left it at that. I looked around at all the people with their arms raised (I hadn't raised mine!), some were even holding hands! Why? I had no idea! However, what I found most amazing was that they were all still praying. What in the blazes were they saying? And why? No offense, but they didn't even know Dean from Adam! Still, I was strangely glad they were praying (especially considering how good they were at it). I turned my attention back to the front where Roy was now moving his hands from Dean's shoulder to his head. Dean fell to his knees and then he teetered for a moment and toppled over. My heart fell out of my chest. I was up like a shot but I was wedged in by a guy in a wheel chair.
Even with the crowd's excitement, I still heard Sam yell Dean's name! (It struck me then, that Sam says Dean's name a lot. It's like a punctuation and an exclamation. I swear Sam doesn't say Oh! or Ah! or What? He says Dean!)
Sorry, anyway, I managed to make my way past Professor X and got to the stage (I really can't bring myself to call it an altar). Sam was already there, shaking Dean who was staring beyond Roy's shoulder with a look between shock and horror.
We hustled out of there, ignoring all the people who were whispering about how ungrateful we were. I wanted to tell them life is a bitch, but I controlled myself. "Did it work?" Sam kept asking. "Keys!" Dean barked. More than anything, that demand right there told me it had worked; Dean was healed alright! Otherwise he would have let Sam drive. The euphoria I felt was unbelievable. I'm sure I would have floated if not for all the mud! I waited for Dean to demand we take off our shoes before getting into his baby, but he didn't. Seriously, I couldn't understand why it wasn't raining candy yet! Or raining upside down or something! We got into the car and I think it was fortitude that kept us on that squishy muddy road at the speed Dean drove out of there.
"What the hell, Dean?" Sam finally complained.
"I saw a man in black!" Dean couldn't have been more evasive.
"You saw Johnny Cash?" I quipped from my back seat exile. (I told you I was feeling euphoric!)
The glare he sent me through the rearview mirror was so intense, I wondered how the mirror didn't break or melt. I shut my mouth. With the way he is always tinkering with his car, I couldn't be sure he hadn't installed an eject button somewhere! I don't really care for road rash.
Somehow Sam convinced Dean to go for a medical check up. Dean was so upset, he didn't even flirt with the hot nurse who received us. Then the doctor, another female Dean didn't flirt with, had to go and drop a bomb about another guy dying of the same symptoms Dean had been healed of. I've got to admit, we were thrown for a million loops!
Dean finally gave us more detail about the man he'd seen. Sam tried to use the 'How come I didn't see anything?' rationalisation and he got told off spectacularly by Dean who called him psychic wonder. Neither understood why I laughed so loud. (It really was funny, but mostly I think I laughed because the euphoria had been cruelly turned into morbid dread and stress because of Dean's revelation! And because if I hadn't laughed, I would probably have cried.)
So Dean went to visit the Reverend and Sam and I went to the swimming club. The guy, Marshall Hall (really, who names their kids that), had died at the exact same time Dean was healed. In crushed, somber moods, Sam and I returned to the motel and got on our laptops. When Dean returned, he was upset and our findings didn't exactly cheer him up. The guilt we were all feeling was off the charts. Sam and I had been on our laptops looking for answers, but it was Dean who ultimately solved the puzzle. We were dealing with a reaper. That sounded so close to the reaver creature Bobby had told us about, that I almost hyperventilated. My brothers assured me a reaper was different; it's basically a soul collector. When a person's time is up, a reaper comes along and takes the soul to wherever it's meant to go. Apparently, reapers aren't evil and they aren't good. They just are. You probably met one, so may be you're better informed than we are. Anyway, like I was saying, reapers aren't evil or anything, however, this reaper was being controlled, which meant someone was playing God. Someone we had to stop.
We bandied a few theories around about how the reaper was being controlled and who was doing it. I thought it was Sue Ann. I didn't really have a rational reason why I thought so. I simply just hadn't liked the woman. For one, she was so perfect and proper. Seriously, no one is that perfect, unless they're pretending to be. And those few magic ones who are not pretenders, well, they make the rest of us look imperfect (okay that whole sentence is redundant)! Sam and Dean thought it was Roy, and thought I was being a conspiracy theorist. Well, I turned out to be right and we saved the lone protestor, Wright (turns out he was right! Get it! Wright was right? Yeah, I know it's a lame joke, Dean must really be rubbing off on me! Not good!)
I would have gloated at my brothers, told them 'guess who was right, bitches!' but there was no time for that because Sue Ann, that bitch, decided to set her sights on Dean.
So there we were, again, trying to save Dean's life again! We went to the Le Grange's house to find the altar. Dean got both guards to chase him. (Only one of those idiots should have gone, since there were three of us.) When they were out of sight, Sam sent me after Dean while he went into the house to destroy the altar.
Dean had somehow lost the guards (couldn't have been hard because like I said before, they were idiots), but when I finally found him, he was already dying. He was on his knees making these horrible chocking, gasping sounds that will probably haunt me forever. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't even see the thing that was killing him. I couldn't shot at it, as that would have brought the two idiot guards to our part of Mud City, so I did the next best thing; I threw holy water and salt at the space in front of him. It didn't work, he was still dying. I don't think I've ever felt so useless. Through this all, Dean didn't beg, he didn't make deals, he didn't blubber. I think he really wanted to die, if only to save Layla (that was the girl he and Sam had been talking to outside the church. She had cancer). Me on the other hand, I couldn't think about Layla, not when I was watching my brother die. I was a wreck. I was wailing and sniveling, snort and tears going down my face. It wasn't pretty, I tell you. It … I was disgusting. And I made deals and begged and pleaded with everything I had; I think at one point I offered my first born child. (Relax, I don't plan on bringing any children into this terrible world, so that's okay. Besides, I didn't shake on it or anything!)
The reaper was probably as deaf to me as it was invisible to me.
Then the horrible sounds stopped. Dean fell back and gulped in huge breaths of air. I am not egotistic, I knew I hadn't done it. It was Sam! Sam, dear Sam, had saved our big brother. I threw myself at Dean and hugged him. I didn't care that he would tease me for years about the spectacle I'd made of myself. He hugged me back. His body was still trembling with aftershocks, his heart still racing. Mine too.
We met Sam back at the car. We were all shellshocked. We tried to gauge each other's mental states with questions that were answered untruthfully. Nothing new there; it's our thing. Deny, pretend, deflect! Until the truth smacks you in the face and you can't pretend that everything is dandy, anymore! Since we all do it, I assume it's inherited from John.
As we drove back to the motel, Sam told us what had happened. I could tell he was feeling guilty about Sue Ann's death. (Truthfully, I wasn't! Ding dong, the bitch is dead! Of course I didn't sing it! I'm not that callous! Besides, helping Sam was more important.)
"You didn't kill her, the reaper did. The reaper she had ensnared!" both Dean and I assured Sam. After a while, his logical brain accepted it, and he forgave himself, but he'll always carry a little scar from that night. I know this because I carry one from the hunt in Greenville.
However, there was no getting Dean to absolve himself. Sam and I really tried. Finally, Sam got Layla to come in. How? I bet it was those puppy eyes! I want those too, probably more than I wanted the tasers! We listened in at the door. Sam didn't want to, but I wasn't passing up the chance. Besides, I knew it wasn't going to be a booty call or anything like that. Layla wasn't that kind of girl.
She was really nice. She didn't resent Dean for getting healed when she hadn't, and despite everything, she still had faith. I almost hate her, you know, for being a genuinely good person. I wish she'd been resentful and entitled. I wish she'd been mean and angry. Maybe Dean wouldn't have felt so guilty. He hated that he got to live and she didn't. But who knows? Maybe she found a cure somewhere else? I mean it could have happened. (I can always hope.)
Sam and I ducked out the emergency exit when we heard her say goodbye to Dean.
I felt bad for her, I really did, but guess what, I know it's selfish, but in the end, what really mattered to me was that Dean was fine. I'm pretty sure Sam felt the same way. We'll never admit it though. It doesn't sound noble. But you know what? There are times when you have to screw being noble. I would rather have my brothers than have accolades, and we did save Wright, and all those others Sue Ann might have targeted later, so that counts for something, right?
Damn, this grey area stuff sucks big time. I wonder how you did it!
Anyway, we left town a few hours after Layla left our room. Dean was still not reconciled to what had happened, but we knew he felt better. How did we know? Easy! He yelled at us, "Come on Thelma and Louise, let's get this show on the road!" Of course we objected to the names, and all three of us exchanged a few good natured insults as we got into the car. That's also our thing!
You wouldn't believe the song that was playing on the radio as we left that town behind.
'I'm Set Free by the Velvet Underground'!
Jeez, the sweet and yet bitter significance of those lyrics, "I've been set free and I've been bound."
Oh by the way, guess who turned twenty-two amidst all that crazy? You guessed it! Sam! I didn't get him a birthday gift. Well, with all that was going on, it was impossible to! I'll make it up to him though. But the universe or God or whatever, couldn't have given him a better present. Dean beat the odds.