There are a few different kinds of Supernatural episodes (yes, I’ve studied this Show so long I can now identify them). There are episodes where I’m bouncing up and down throughout, or screaming NOOOOOO!!! at my television set, or using up so many tissues that the living room looks like an alien landscape. There are (a very few) episodes where I get to the end and go, meh, that was okay (and a very very few where I say nope, that didn’t happen – canon erase!)
Then there are the episodes where I’m engaged the entire time, wondering what will happen next, watching the boys and trying to figure out what’s going on in their very handsome heads – but I’m relatively quiet. Okay, maybe I grabbed the arm of my chair a few times or asked my television “What now??”, but mostly I just watched, engulfed in the experience. This episode was like that. (It helped that there was one cohesive story line instead of the jumping around that we sometimes get). I didn’t reach for the tissues until that last scene, Charlie and Dean battered and fragile, and Sam standing there like the rock I’ve always known him to be.
