Back with Samuel Colt, Sam is walking into the cabin. And, dude, I know it’s in the middle of nowhere, but maybe Colt should invest in some locks. Sam enters hesitantly, though he’s walking just fine. I know from experience that he should’ve been shaky-legged and sore from that hard ride to get there, but, whatever. We’ll give him this. He goes further into the cabin and Colt throws Holy Water (I think…maybe it was salt?) on him from the shadows.
Sam: Not a demon! Not a demon! Just a hunter! Sheesh.
SC: You’re a what?
Sam: Are you Samuel Colt? I’m Sam Winchester. A hunter from 2011.
*blinks* Interesting approach. But, it worked, so…okay.
SC is all, prove it, so Sam pulls out his cell phone and gives it to him. Colt looks at it, nods, then puts it on a shelf behind him and is all, alright.
Sam: That’s it?
SC: When you’ve done this job as long as I have, a giant from the future with a magic brick doesn’t give you the vapors.
*laugh* I liked Colt. *grins*
Sam: I need your help killing a Phoenix.
SC: They exist?
Sam: You shoot one in about 3 hours.
He shows SC his own journal.
SC: I’m either too drunk or not drunk enough.
So, SC tells Sam that he’s retired and Sam’s adamant that there’s no such thing as a retired hunter and tells SC that in he’s a hero in Sam’s time. Sam tries to press on him that they need to kill the Phoenix because its ashes are the only thing that can kill the monster he’s hunting.
Sam: So stow your crap for a few hours and let’s go.
That was interesting, I think. Because he sounded like Dean. And I know they kinda…shifted roles, if you will…at the beginning of this season, but that was when he had no soul. Once his soul came back, he was back to I acknowledge your pain, puppy-dog eyed Sammy. But here, he didn’t sound like ‘Sammy’ and he didn’t sound close to how he was when soulless. He just sounded like Dean. To me. I like when Sam gets commanding all on his own—without influence of demon blood, possession, soullessness or any of that jazz. Just because he’s matured and he’s lived this life and he knows what has to be done.
Sam: Either you’re coming with me or I need the gun.
SC: What gun?
Sam: THE gun.
SC: Oh, that gun. I…lost it in a game of stud.
Sam calls him a liar.
SC: That doesn’t sound like me.
Sam tells him he shot a couple of demons with it less than an hour ago, and then proves it by going all CSI: Demon on the older hunter. SC is impressed and reveals that he does have the gun but says that it’s a curse. Sam offers to take it off his hands and I could feel the tension creeping up in Sam’s voice, the anxiety that he’s totally aware he’s running short on time and he needs this gun, dammit.
SC: You go put on a few more miles, come back, and we’ll talk.
Grrrrr. That’s almost as bad as saying someone has a “place.”
Sam: I’ve got plenty of mileage.
You tell him, Sammy.
SC still says he’s done—he’s given his whole life to it and he’s done with it. Sam’s practically seething and wants to know if everything he’s done means nothing. He demands to have the gun. I wanted him to tell this man what that gun did to his family—all the havoc it wreaked upon them just because his father had to have it. If John had never found the gun…I wonder if he would still be alive. I wonder if anyone would have gone to Hell.
But we didn’t get to go that far.
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