Meanwhile, elsewhere, LeviGirl is watching TV in her frilly pink bedroom and we can hear a commercial for Biggerson’s homemade pies (ha!) as well as an ad for “Dr. Sexy, M.D.”
Back at Bobby’s, Sam is cleaning his guns in the study while Dean and Bobby are in the kitchen, watching worriedly, under the guise of doing research.
Bobby: At least he’s not curled up under the sink.
Dean: No, he’s just silently field-stripping his weapon.
Gulp. Man I feel for Dean. What do you do when your brother–whom you love more than anything in the world, but who is also physically capable of killing you in any number of ways–loses his grip on reality? Lock him in a padded cell (or panic room)? Or watch him very, very closely? Dean chooses option 2 for now, turning on the GPS of Sam’s phone.
Watching Dean very closely, Bobby asks him, “How are you doing?”
Thank you. THANK YOU, Bobby. I mean, there’s only so long this guy can run on empty, losing everything and everyone, facing insurmountable odds, without back-up, without hope of escape. It’s about time someone checked on Dean. Actually checked in and recognized him as a person, a human. It didn’t matter what Dean said in reply — the fact that Bobby cared enough to ask was huge for me.
Dean, predictably, is worried about Sam. “It ain’t like he’s hexed. What if he’s the kind of crazy you can’t fix?”
Bobby: I’m worried, too, but humor me. How are you?
Dean (genuinely puzzled and wanting to deflect the attention from himself): Who cares? I’m fine.
Bobby: Right. And weren’t you pissed at him when he said the same thing just a couple hours before he spilled his marbles all over the floor?
Atta boy, Bobby. Don’t let him get away. Be the Robin William’s character to Dean’s Good Will Hunting.
Dean (moving closer to Bobby and pouring himself some coffee): I’m not Sam. I’m keeping my marbles in a lead-friggin’ box. I’m fine.
Yeah sure, you’re fine. You were pulled out of Hell and the first thing you did was line that box with lead. And you put those marbles inside and you closed it up tight…until it bounces open when you least expect it and bit by bit, the marbles roll loose and the noise they make when they unexpectedly hit the floor scares you to death. Every. Single. Time.
Bobby: ‘Course. You just lost one of the best friends you ever had. Your brother’s in The Bell Jar. And Purgatory’s most wanted is surfing the sewer lines. But you’re fiiiiiiine.
Gah, Bobby! Cut it out, man! You’re gonna make me cry! Did you not hear – tears at the ready?! Seriously, though, I loved this moment. Loved someone vocalizing what Dean had just been through, the pain he’s having to endure, and the reason he’s stone-faced and stoic as he confronts it. I love his strength. I love it because right after he came back from Hell, the company line — from Sam, mostly — was that he wasn’t strong enough. That he couldn’t handle Lilith, he was fragile, broken, easily shattered.
But we know that wasn’t true, and seeing him now, seeing him handle all of this mess… I mean, ‘barely’ is still hanging on — it just makes him that much more my hero.
Dean nods in reply to Bobby’s statement, though, turning away and focusing on the computer.
Bobby: ‘Course, if you ever decide that’s horse crap, I”ll be where I always am. Right here.
Dean (with a small smile, but not looking at Bobby): You want to do couple’s yoga, or you want to get back to hunting big bads?
Bobby: Shuddup. Idjit.
Translation: I love you, kiddo. *sniff* Oh, stop. You know it’s true.
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