Anyway, on the way to her house, Becky stops at her 10 year High School reunion and heads to the table to RSVP. The beautiful Jocelyn is manning the table and says all those terrible things they say to the unpopular girl in the John Hughes movies – “Oh, I remember you! Yucky Becky! Of course. Wow, you haven’t changed a bit, have you?” *narrows eyes at Jocelyn*
Sam comes in, though, and stands behind Becky, resting his hand on her shoulder, obviously with her, and Jocelyn about swallows her tongue as she marks Becky down for ‘plus one.’ Which, Becky immediately Tweets. She’s as bad as Misha. *winks*
As they’re heading back to the car, Becky sees her friend Guy, who is an event coordinator and also, apparently, wiccan. She introduces him to Sam (leaving out the wiccan part) and tells Sam that she and Guy met in the ‘erotic horror’ section of the book store – to which Guy immediately ducks and blushes, stammering, “OMG, Becky, c’mon!” There’s an obvious hesitation as Guy sizes up Sam and I thought at first it was because he might be a smidge jealous of Becky – wanting Sam for himself. But, turns out, I was wrong.
As Guy is walking away, though, Becky runs up to him to give him one last parting hug and Guy slips her a vial of something, wishing her ‘blessed be.’ She and Sam pull out of the parking lot just as Dean pulls up in the Patchwork Dodge. Dean frowns, then heads into a nearby restaurant, sitting at a table or bar (was hard to tell) and pulls out what looks like John’s journal. Maybe looking for some fatherly advice on What To Do When Your Brother Marries A Stalker?
Before he opens it, though, a newspaper headline catches his eye – one about a recent lottery winner getting squashed by a truck in a freak accident.
Sam and Becky are at Becky’s house/apartment and Sam’s sitting at the table with two glasses of champagne, lit candles, waiting. Becky comes to the table wearing a black nightie that she says she’s been saving. Incidentally, she has poster-sized versions of the Supernatural book covers (complete with images of muscle-bound, Shirtless Winchesters) on the wall of her bedroom. Heh. Other than that, though, her place wasn’t bad. I mean, it was decorated as a woman might decorate it.
They toast to “them” but then Sam gets a bad headache and Becky blurs, doubling, then tripling. At first I thought we were going to see him have to deal with Hellucinations in front of her…but, it turns out, it was the ‘elixir’ she’d dosed him with wearing off. That’s what Guy had given her. While Sam’s distracted with all the pain in his head, she sits in his lap, pours purple stuff in his champagne and then practically pours it down his gullet. Moments later he’s all, everything’s okay as long as I’m with you.
That’s one wicked roofie. Also? Sometimes I wonder how these MotW storylines are pitched…and why certain ones stick. No judgment…just…wondering.
Elsewhere, a hooded man is watching a guy get a serious piece of a few baseballs from an automatic pitch machine. We later learn that he was plucked out of AAA obscurity and called up to the Majors. But, too bad for him, because Hoodie Man uses his bad guy powers and cranks up the auto pitch machine, turning it so that the batter is first knocked down by the baseballs, then one literally caves in his face in a splatter of blood and…other stuff. It’s…actually rather gross. And a little disturbing – especially when Hoodie Man starts grinning. *shudder*
Next thing we know, Dean is at Becky’s, ringing the doorbell, gift in hand. Sam opens it and Dean hands him the box all, this is me, being supportive. He says ‘congrats’ to Sam and invites himself in.
Dean (gesturing to gift):It’s a waffle iron. Non-stick. You just, uh…actually, I don’t know how to use it. We good? ‘Cause I’m sniffing a case in this town.
Sam’s holding the present, mouth open, unable to get a word in edgewise as Dean continues, rattling on about Truck Guy and Baseball Guy. Then Becky’s voice comes from the other room saying that they don’t know if it’s a crossroads demon or a cursed object (she actually says, “Like in Bad Day at Blackrock,” since, y’know, she read the book and all). Okay, I probably shouldn’t say this at all, but…erf. So when we first met Becky way back when, I had 4th wall issues. As in I hated it being broken. Since then, the Show has pretty much obliterated that like that creepy girl in The Ring, so I can accept that in the boys’ reality, Chuck the Prophet profited from the series of books he wrote about their lives and Becky read them and then found out they were real (since, the books were based on visions and all). So that’s why she knows what she does. But I had to keep reminding myself of that with her.
Dean (angry, voice tight – talking to Becky in a very nobody messes with my brother except me tone): I don’t know what kind of mojo you’re working but believe me I will find out.
Sam steps close to Becky, saying, “That’s my wife you’re talking to.”
Dean: You’re not acting like yourself. You married Becky Rosen!
Becky: Have you ever thought that maybe we’re happy?
Sam gives Dean a smug, yeah, have you? look.
Dean: People’s dreams are coming true around here – a little bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?
Sam: What Becky and I have is real and if you can’t accept that, it’s your problem, not ours.
Dean: Maybe she’s part of it. Because for whatever reason, you’re her dream. If you care about her, I’d be worried. Because people who get their little fantasies? Seem to get dead pretty quick.
Beck does this hilarious oh sh*t face as Dean’s talking, but he doesn’t pick up on it – mainly because she’s pretty much always looking like she’s two heartbeats from freaking out.
Sam: Maybe what’s bugging you is that I’m moving on with my life. You took care of me and that’s great. But I don’t need you anymore.
Ouch. Dean gives him a, okay, fine, whatever, man look as he turns away, but when his back is to Sam, his face fills with a heavy dread. Even if it’s pretty much true (cause it apparently is), it still hurts to hear – at all, and in that dismissive, thankless manner. I know Sam was dosed, but…well, it’s like ordering a jury to disregard a passionate confession they just heard on the stand. They can let it go, but they’re never going to unhear it.
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