A/Ns: I just want you to know how much I love you guys. What did I want to do after seeing Endgame today? Nothing but read Avengers fanfiction aaaaaaall night long. What did I do instead? Edited this chapter because you all deserve a weekend that not only starts with Endgame but also comes with a chapter update. That's real love right there (and humility and modesty too, if you didn't pick up on that ;)
Reviews: I think even if you all hadn't offered up some of the damn best, most amazing, heart-warming, chest-feather-puffing comments I've ever received, I'd still love you all enough to forfeit Avengers fanfiction for a night. But, just so you all know, that like button might be broke form how hard you all pushed it. I'm running out of chest-feathers, I preened so hard (...why did that sound dirty?)
Jokes aside, thank you, guys. I really, really appreciate the love :)
Original Timeline Reference: In general, I don't spend a lot of time in this story describing how episodes went originally, but this particular chapter/episode is more barren of first-time clues than usual. You'll get a bare bones synopsis of the original episode (2.05 Simon Said) somewhere in this chapter, but that's pretty much it. Can you still read/understand/enjoy without more in-depth memory/knowledge? I think so (although I'm not exactly an objective source, here…) Still, it's not a bad idea to refresh your memory for the full effect (reading a synopsis online should be enough if you don't have time for or access to an episode re-watch)
If you're too lazy to do that (no judgement, I feel you, you are my people) or I've turned you into too much of a junkie to even for a second postpone your weekly intake of time travel hijinks… just remember that Andy Gallagher can control people with his voice and he tends to ask them to give him things, like half-drank coffees and Impalas.
Chapter Warnings: Andy's asking for things. Like half-drank coffees and Impalas. He's also not where he's supposed to be, but, then again, who has been lately?
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
The Road So Far (This Time Around)
Season 2: Chapter 30
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
It was well past dark when they got to Guthrie, Oklahoma. They were still in the outskirts, cruising with the windows down in the warm summer night air, the town just starting to populate the black around them with scattered porch lights and yellow-lit windows. Guthrie had a decent sized population, at least in relation to many of the towns hunters passed through, but the road was empty and the night quiet. The oncoming headlights were the first Dean had seen in a while.
They were also swerving.
"What the hell-" Dean's grumble turned into a shout of surprise as the oncoming car didn't stay in its oncoming lane. He cursed, yanking Baby to the right, barely missing the swerving vehicle as it flew past. It was a van, and Dean's eyes went wide as a Viking queen – sword in hand, mounted on a polar bear – flashed past.
Son of a bitch.
"I know that van!" he exclaimed, more out of surprise than on purpose. Dean slammed on the breaks and his brother lurched in the passenger seat, grabbing onto the dash.
From behind came a loud crunch of metal and a heavy thud. Dean flipped half in his seat to look out the back window, Sammy doing the same. The van had swerved off the side of the road, likely an overcorrection from nearly crashing into them. There was a minor drainage ditch between the road and the tree line, where the van had come to an unfortunate stop. Steam was rising from the bent hood, the entire front of the car crunched in around the trunk of a tree.
Dean threw Baby into reverse, spinning the wheel until he'd cleared enough room to pull a u-urn. They crept up on the van, slowly because Dean sure didn't remember this ever happening. While his brain was telling him the owner of that van was a friendly, that sure as hell didn't mean the current driver was. Sam kept glancing between the vehicle, so far silent in the night, and his brother.
The van door creaked open loudly, bent as it was on its hinges, and swung closed a time and a half before the driver got it all the way open. It was a kid – an unassuming man maybe Sam's age – in a robe and jeans and a t-shirt, short brown hair a complete mess. He looked like he ought to be stumbling out of bed, not an auto crash (which might actually explain the crash in the first place). The man staggered out onto the road, clearly dazed, a line of blood running down the side of his face.
"Yeah, yeah!" Dean exclaimed suddenly with a smile that seemed completely inappropriate given the circumstances. Sam's eyebrows went up as his brother brought the car to a stop a half dozen feet from the crashed van. The driver spotted them, and Dean turned to his brother even as the kid lurched their way. "It's the Star Wars guy!"
Sam just stared at his brother incredulously.
"It's the- you know-" Dean waved two fingers in the air, "'-these are not the droids you're looking for' guy! Crap, what was his name?"
Sam's bitchface (a variant of #1: 'You're not making any sense, Dean') didn't let up, clearly failing to decipher what the hell his brother was trying to say. Dean's hand was already on the door to get out and help – Sammy a little more cautious about the whole situation – when the man from the future suddenly remembered just why it was they called this kid the Star Wars guy.
Oh no.
Baby!
Dean turned to his brother, suddenly wide-eyed and Sam straightened, forehead smoothing out at the one-eighty in his brother's eyes. Not to mention the desperate tone as he suddenly pleaded, "Don't let him take the Impala."
Sam blinked and went immediately into alert mode, the man approaching now a threat and not a friend. But he didn't have time to get out more than a confused, "What?" before Andy was on them. The kid hit the driver side of the vehicle, fingers curling around the window frame.
"Get out."
"Okay." Dean smiled, nodded, and then was getting out of the car.
"What the hell- Dean!" Sam scrambled for his brother, but Dean was already out, holding the door open for the bleeding kid to clamber inside. Dean shut the door for him, still smiling a tight, goofy grin.
"You too," the kid aimed at Sam, barely even paying attention to him and Sam thought 'who the hell does this guy think he is' as he drew his gun.
"Yeah, I don't think so."
That was finally enough to grab Andy's attention, and he all but threw himself against the driver side door at the sight of the gun. His arms flailed, hands raised in a meager and futile shield. Blood dripped into his too-wide eyes from that cut on his forehead.
"What the hell! I said get out of the car!" His gaze bounced between the gun to the man behind it, clear panic on his face. "Drop the gun! Why aren't you putting it down?!"
Sam's arm didn't move an inch and his expression remained deadly. He glanced at Dean, who was busy babbling to the kid to calm down, it's fine, they're the good guys.
"Yeah," Sam said past a tight jaw to the kid still pressed against the door, clearly expecting him to obey vocal commands alone. The hunter didn't need much more than that and the Star Wars reference to clue in to what this man could do. "I don't seem to be listening. Now who the hell are you?"
"Me?" Andy flinched back, glancing frantically between the two brothers. "Who the hell are you guys?"
"We're hunters," Dean answered and Sam stared up at him. "We kill monsters – bad ones – and we're going to start and stop the apocalypse-"
"Dean!" Sam's bark did nothing for his brother, who still had that tight smile stretched across his face, nodding his head like he understood. "Stop."
"I'm trying," Dean answered through teeth clenched in that placating grin.
Andy was staring at him too, wide-eyed, and that was when he spotted Dean's gun, tucked in his jeans. Dean caught his gaze and glanced down right at the same time as he realized where this was going.
"Wait, kid, you don't want to-"
"Draw your gun and shoot yourself if he shoots me."
Sam cried out as Dean immediately drew his gun and put it to his head, hammer drawn back. The younger Winchester jerked forward viciously, the barrel of his own gun less than a foot away from the kid, who had nowhere else to scramble to. The gun shook in Sam's death grip and he wanted to shoot the man so much more now.
"Sam, don't," Dean immediately snapped, and that was pretty ridiculous, with him standing there, gun to his head. "Come on, man, don't do this. You were cool the first time we met."
"I've never met you!" Andy sounded hysteric. "Now stop lying! Who are you?"
"I'm Dean Winchester. I'm from the future."
"Dean, shut up."
"I said tell the truth!"
"I can't, Sammy, and I am, kid. I'm from the future. 'Bout ten years. Well, nine now. An angel sent me back to save the world."
Andy just stared at him, and Sam wondered if his powers would last past his death. He couldn't risk if they did, couldn't risk Dean shooting himself.
"It's the truth," he spat out instead, drawing the kid's attention back into the car. "Now get that gun away from my brother."
"You first!"
"Come on, guys," Dean practically whined, both smile and gun still in place. "We've gotten off on the wrong foot, here. Look, I'm Dean, this is my brother, Sam. We're here to help."
Andy faltered, glancing back up at the older Winchester as something he said finally seemed to get through. He glanced back at the man holding the gun on him. "Sam… Winchester?"
The brothers exchanged looks.
"Yeah."
Andy hesitated another moment, then obviously made some sort of decision. "Put the gun down, Sam."
Sam gave him a look that clearly said, 'Do I look stupid to you?' but Andy merely returned it.
"It's okay, Sammy. Put the gun away."
The younger Winchester turned the same damn look on his brother, but eventually squared his jaw and lowered the weapon, very clearly re-engaging the safety. When the gun was set pointedly on the seat between them, closer to Andy than it was to Sam, the kid hesitated for only another half second before he angled his head over his shoulder to look at Dean.
"Put yours away, too."
"Safety on," Sam growled, but Dean didn't need the additional command. He re-engaged it all on his own, tucking the gun back into his waistline.
"Now, um…" Andy swallowed nervously, looking between the brothers. When he spoke, his voice sounded ever so slightly different, missing a timber that had been there previously. "Who are you two and what is going on?"
-o-o-o-
They left Andy's van behind; the thing was totaled and it wasn't like they had time to call a tow. Andy was covered in blood and, it turned out, it wasn't all his.
"He killed her," he whispered from the back seat of the Impala, most of the story already out but this part clearly the hardest for him yet.
"Your brother?" Dean was in the front seat, driving them into town, but not to the county Andy had lived, where the suicides had been. Where a man named Ansem Weebs had changed his name, gotten a job in a coffee shop, befriended the manager, Tracy, and the local customer, Andy, and eventually used his new life to kill a doctor who delivered a set of twins twenty-three years ago, murder their biological mother, and finish it up with the girlfriend who stood in the way.
"I didn't know I had a brother," Andy mumbled, staring numbly at his hands in his lap. He huffed. "An evil twin. What do ya know? He didn't even have a goatee."
Sam glanced over at his own brother, but Dean could only offer a helpless shrug. They'd gotten there in time to save Andy's girl last time, though it still hadn't exactly been a happy ending.
"I killed him."
Both brothers looked at the kid in the backseat as the quiet confession turned to silence.
"He said a yellow-eyed man was going to reward him. Reward us. All we had to do was take out everyone else." Andy blinked tears from his eyes, wiping at them with bloody hands that didn't do much but make more mess. "He was- he was crazy. Said we could do it together. Be- be kings." He laughed, the sound hysterical and not remotely funny. "Some yellow-eyed freak came to my evil twin in a dream and convinced him to go on a murder spree."
Neither brother knew what to say to that. To that nightmare that sounded to made up even for television. And Andy was trapped in it, stuck living it.
"The man to get, he said-" The kid stopped, swallowing as he clenched his hands in his lap. He finally looked up, meeting their eyes, Sam's directly and then Dean's through the rearview mirror. "The man to get was Sam Winchester."
The Winchesters exchanged wide-eyed looks. Well shit. That's definitely not what had happened last time.
"He killed her," Andy whispered again, head back down. He was clearly in shock. "He killed her and I couldn't- I couldn't save- Oh god, she's dead. She's dead and I killed him."
Dean pulled into the first motel they came to, making sure to park in the back where there were less guests and even less working lights. Sam got them a room and they got the bloodied kid into the motel under the cover of darkness.
"I'll get him cleaned up," Dean said, putting the keys into his brother's hand. "Why don't you go check out the crime scene."
Sam nodded, hearing the unspoken words. He was going in to town to see if there was any way to salvage this for Andy, to let him keep his life as though he hadn't witnessed a homicide, committed one himself, and then ran. So the younger Winchester climbed back into the Impala and headed to the coffee shop where the kid said it had all gone down.
-o-o-o-
Andy came out of the shower with skin an irritated red from the heat, but he still felt numb. Everything tingled, but not the pleasant way. He sat on the bed in a pair of sweatpants that weren't his and were way too big for him, a band t-shirt he didn't know, and his maroon robe, still damp from his attempts to wash the blood out. He didn't know why, but getting it out, keeping one thing that was his from a life he knew was over, mattered. His hair was wet, dripping down his neck, and his forehead hurt, but Dean had assured him he didn't need stitches or a hospital. Just a few butterfly bandages, a couple Advil, and a fifth of rot-gut whiskey he downed greedily.
"What am I going to do?" He stared at the paper cup in his hands. He didn't feel the heat of the alcohol yet – had never been much of a drinker, really – and wondered if he should take more. "Tracy is- and I- I killed someone."
"Come with us."
Andy's head snapped up to the man – the hunter – leaning against the dresser-turned-tv-stand across from him. He looked serious.
"Look, you're a good kid and this is a…a shitty set of circumstances. We'll help. You're already running; we can teach you how to stay off the radar. Get you set up someplace new, if you want it." Dean uncrossed his arms and shrugged one shoulder. "Or, you can stick with us. We're planning on putting a bullet between those yellow eyes. You're more than welcome to be a part of that."
"I'm not a killer."
Only, god, yes he was.
"Nah, and you don't need to be," Dean agreed, a little smirk in the corner of his mouth that had Andy thinking, huh…maybe this guy was telling the truth. Maybe this guy really did know him, because with the ease that Dean agreed with his protest, Andy almost believed it himself. "But you are in danger, and me and my brother? We can help."
He looked down at the cup in his hands and didn't respond. Andy didn't have an answer, so he didn't bother trying to give one. Dean didn't ask, instead he just pushed off the dresser, grabbed the liquor bottle, and refilled his empty cup.
-o-o-o-
Sam was back before sunup. It was no good. The cops were already looking for Andy, and the evidence was stacked pretty strong against him. Two dead – at least one a homicide – with Andy's blood at the scene, a witness who placed him there, and both him and his easily-recognized van now missing? Even if he turned himself in immediately and claimed self-defense, the DA would use his running as a sign of guilt. It might not be an open-and-shut case, but it would be a hell of a battle, with no guarantee that Andy would walk away a free man.
Neither brother really factored in that he could talk his way out of anything, but Andy didn't much feel like talking about that. He was pretty sure if he turned himself in, the first words out of his mouth would be that he did it. He'd murdered someone – his own brother – and he'd gotten his girlfriend – not his girlfriend, not anymore, not ever again – killed.
"It's okay," he said, still a little numb, but the alcohol was starting to warm his bones, if only just a little. "I was already running."
And he had been. His life was over, and he'd known it. He'd had no clue where he was going, only that he couldn't stay. Tracy was dead and- and there wasn't anything left for him in that town anyway. Before, he hadn't thought he'd needed much. But it turned out, he'd needed Tracy. He wished he'd figured that out sooner.
"I'll go with you," he added, looking up at the brothers. He didn't know them, but they seemed like good people, and they were offering him something he couldn't figure out for himself yet. "If that's still okay."
"Sure thing," Dean supplied, and if Sam was surprised by it, he hid it well behind sympathetic brown eyes. Maybe the two had already talked about it. Andy hadn't exactly been 'present' for the past several hours.
"I don't- I don't know what I'm doing." He didn't know if he said it because it was the truth, or as some sort of warning to the two that they were taking in a stray. An honest-to-god, lost and homeless stray. Andy had always been a bit of a wanderer. Bum, was usually the word people used, but it had never bothered him. It had been mostly true, after all, and he'd been happy with it.
Sam smiled, and Andy got the feeling the man knew exactly why he'd said it. "We'll figure it out."
"Until then, you're with us. It'll be awesome having a Jedi on the team." Dean grinned, but Sam must have caught Andy's hesitation and worry.
"You don't have to hunt," he added quickly, and the kid relaxed a fraction.
"'Course not," Dean agreed, though there was something in his voice that suggested he thought otherwise, even if he didn't say anything aloud. "You can just get us out of speeding tickets and we'll call it even."
Sam was shaking his head again and Dean winked over in Andy's direction. Even though there really was nothing remotely happy about it, Andy found himself smiling weakly back. Dean grabbed his jacket and duffle, tossing them onto the thin carpet. He grunted as he laid down.
"Next time, though, we're getting two rooms."
Sam shared a look with Andy that made him feel, ironically, like a brother. As the younger Winchester settled onto the other bed, Andy thought about offering the one he was sitting on. But Dean was already rolling onto his side, complaining to Sam to turn out the lights, and telling Andy to get some shut eye.
So he did. He didn't get any sleep, not with Tracy's tear-stained, shocked face replaying through his mind on a never ending loop, but he did close his eyes and at least pretend.
-o-o-o-
"So you get death premonitions?" Andy leaned over the front seat of the Impala, elbows brushing either brother as he hunched forward from the back seat. He was looking at Sam primarily, but kept switching between the two, especially as the conversation turned more and more incredulous. "That's impossible."
Beside him, Dean snorted. "Says the Star Wars guy."
Andy shrugged, cuz, hey, fair point, and added, "Dude, that sucks."
Sam gave him a look that Dean had called (earlier that morning) the patented 'Bitchface.' Dean, apparently, had a whole list of them, labeled and everything. Andy wished he could un-dead Weber just to tell him 'this is what being brothers is about, you asshole!'
"I mean, like, when I got my mind thing? It was a gift. You know, it was like- it was like I won the lotto!" Andy, halfway through a chuckle, suddenly trailed off and the car got quiet. Yeah, it had been a gift. A gift that led right into a nightmare. He slid off the front seat and slumped in the back. "Guess what they say about winning the lotto is true."
"What's that?" Dean asked, though it was clear he couldn't decide if staying quiet would have been better.
They'd left early that morning, having Andy keep low in the back seat of the Impala as they headed out of town the opposite way they'd come in. They didn't run into any trouble, and Andy honestly didn't know what he'd been expecting. Road blocks maybe. Search dogs.
But it wasn't like he was on the FBI most wanted. Just a small town murderer. That was him, now.
He stared out the window, farther from home then he'd ever been before, and unlikely to ever go back. "You know. Be careful what you wish for, and all that."
The brothers exchanged looks, unsure how exactly to help someone grieving the loss of a loved one at the hands of their own flesh and blood. Crazy flesh and blood, maybe, but still kin. Kin that they'd then turned around and murdered. Dean gave Sam a pointed look – he was the one with all the feelings, after all – which Sam returned with a bitchface (#3 but it morphed into #9 midway).
Before the more feely of the two Winchesters could say anything, however, Andy cleared his throat and moved on. "Hey, you didn't get one of your visions about…?"
"No," Sam answered quickly, so the kid wouldn't have to finish that sentence. "We heard about the suicides on the news and came looking for a case."
"Because you hunt monsters." Andy still didn't sound like he believed them. But, then again, he could control people with his voice, he had an evil twin, and Sam saw dead people. So, really, what did Andy know?
Sam was staring at Dean, who hadn't had a comeback right away, and Andy realized the older Winchester was frowning. Sam nudged him.
"Nothing." Dean shook his head but Sam could tell he wanted to rub at his chest. Though, he was starting to think anytime Dean managed to refrain, the urge was more out of habit than necessity. "Just, last time we did this, you had visions."
"I did?"
Andy frowned, pushing himself into the front space once more, elbows over the back of the seat. "Wait, last time? Is this- hang on, you were serious? I thought you were joking!"
Dean ignored their tag-along for the moment, and wondered aloud if the coin Cas gave Sam was blocking his visions as well. Sam frowned.
"I haven't had any while I'm awake, either," he reasoned, but looked less than confident. It wasn't exactly scientific theory they were working with, here. Dean hadn't been able to confirm whether Azazel was directly responsible for every vision or not, at least not with any future knowledge, and the brothers could only speculate at best since the incident with Max Miller. "Not since I got off the demon blood."
"Whoa, demon blood?!"
"Don't worry," Dean said over Andy's growing concern (probably starting to panic about what exactly he'd signed himself up for), "you don't need them."
Sam seemed less confident – especially considering his visions were arguably integral to the timeline and they were supposed to be sticking to that – but they were interrupted by the kid, who had pushed himself so far into the front seat that he was going to cause an accident soon if they didn't start listening to him.
"Guys, can we slow down and rewind for a sec?"
"Get back and buckle up, you idiot," Dean snipped, but Andy did not such thing, just staring at him with wide eyes and no lack of disbelief.
"You were kidding back there, right? Yesterday? When I probably had a concussion and was bleeding all over the place and that's why you were able to lie? Because- because you're not really from the future. That would be- heh- that would be insane." When neither brother said anything more, Sam looking a little guilty and Dean keeping an unnecessary level of focus on the road, Andy added a little hysterically and definitely loud enough to make Dean wince, "You're from the future?!"
-o-o-o-
Andy sat, kind of like a statue, in the back seat, staring through the windshield. He'd been that way for the last five minutes, and it was honestly starting to get a little worrying.
"The apocalypse," he finally spoke, though it didn't come with much movement. "The apocalypse. Holy crap."
Dean huffed something out that wasn't pretty, but thankfully it wasn't really audible either. Sam turned to tuck his elbow over the back of the seat and tried to offer a reassuring look. It wasn't all that reassuring.
"I know it's a lot," Sam offered, going for gentle and Andy's eyes slid over to him, looking no less freaked out than a second ago. "And I'd say you don't have to be a part of it, but-"
"But you are," Dean cut in, ignoring the sharp way Sam looked at him for it. No use playing soft ball with the kid. "And it sucks, but we'll get you through it." As if realizing what he'd said – which wasn't technically untrue if you counted intent being stronger than all that destiny crap, but still – Dean locked eyes with the kid in the rear view mirror and added, "We're gonna stop it this time."
Andy chewed on the inside of his cheek. It wasn't that he didn't believe Dean (okay, he didn't exactly believe Dean…) but this was the freakin' end of the world they were talking about here! "I… I don't know if I'm- If I can…handle that, guys. I'm just- I'm just a normal guy, okay? With- with mind control powers, I'll give you that, but I didn't sign up for any of this!"
Sam's smile, while weak, was understanding, because of course it was. He was an understanding guy who sounded even deeper up shit creek than Andy was. At least he had awesome mind powers. Sam just saw people die all the time and was apparently doomed to escort Lucifer to the end of the world.
"We know, Andy, and you don't have to be up for it, alright?" He turned back around, leaning against his own seat. "You want out, tell us. It's true that you're a part of this, and you may not be able to avoid it but…" Sam glanced at Dean, a silent conversation Andy had no hope of interpreting. "It doesn't mean you have to go running head first into it, either."
The kid from Guthrie, Oklahoma just swallowed heavily in the back seat, completely lost as to how his life had spiraled so out of control so quickly. He was in a world of pain he knew nothing about. But, there were two people currently with him who at least knew the rules of that brave new world, and were promising to teach him. If he wanted it.
"Yeah," he breathed out, leaning back against the seat and tipping his head up to stare at the beige ceiling. He didn't have a better option right now, and Andy had always been more of a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. He turned his head and watched the world pass by the window. "Yeah, alright."
-o-o-o-
That night they stopped at another hotel. Dean got his two rooms, as requested, and rock-paper-scissored with his brother for the single. He lost. The older man was still grumbling when Andy asked if he got to play the winner, then. Both brothers just stared at him, before glancing at each other and sort of shrugging out a 'that's fair.'
He kicked Sam's ass, and got a room all to himself. Go him.
Despite his best attempts not to, it wasn't all that long before Andy was asleep on his single queen mattress in a rundown motel that hadn't seen renovation since it was built in the sixties. He hadn't meant to sleep, desperately wanted not to, and had been avoiding it for well beyond his limit, now. Honestly, he hadn't thought sleep would even come, not without a little help from Mary Jane. He hadn't slept without her assistance since he was a tweener. As it turned out, though, a near forty-eight hours of no sleep on top emotional trauma the likes he'd never experienced before was, apparently, where his body drew the line, with or without MJ.
The silence of the motel, mostly empty except for the occasional thump or shuffle of the brothers next door or a guy two doors down who sounded like he'd snuck a stray cat into the room with him, lacked the necessary distraction to stay awake. Soon enough, Andy was pulled into a desperately needed, albeit terribly unwanted, sleep.
And with sleep came the dreams he feared.
"Well, well, well," a man with yellow eyes was clapping as he emerged from the shadows of Tracy's kitchen. He seemed heedless of the growing puddle of blood beneath his feet. "Looks like I put my money on the wrong brother."
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
A/Ns: I loved Andy. I always wanted more of him in the show (so…uh…look guys, I fixed it!)
Update on Cas: For those of you missing Cas (I'm seeing an increasing number of reviews about the lack of him/her…) hang in there. He's gonna keep popping back up. We haven't even gotten to what Uriel is up to in Heaven, which is also coming this season. I promise, as 2.1 comes to a massive head, you'll get plenty of your favorite angel (whump. I mean, *cough* what? I didn't say anything, you're hearing – er…reading? – things.)
Up Next: Andy relives the worst night of his life to an audience of one (yellow-eyed demon), in which evil twins are evil (facial hair or no facial hair). Meanwhile, the Winchesters learn that it's not just hunters who wake up swinging, and Andy is strongly reconsidering that that whole atheism thing when the boys get an impromptu visitor.