Season 1, Episode 16: Finale: Traveling Riverside Blues

 Previous Episode

First Episode

The A-frame at the end of Wanek Way was up to its tricks again, adding a new suite of rooms to the house.  Dean Winchester slept, oblivious to the chaos his arrival was causing downstairs.  

"Sam... Cas..."  he murmured as his sleep was disturbed by a dream.

Dean rolled over,  his sleep restless.  In his dream, he felt guilt, knowing how his brother, Sam, and best friend, Castiel, would feel when they realized he'd sacrificed his life to give them the best possible chance to get to Lucifer.  They would understand, Dean thought.  They had to defeat Lucifer once and for all, even if all three of them died trying.  

"Keep fighting, guys." 

His eyes snapped open.  He lay still for a minute, just enjoying the warmth and softness of the bed, the lingering haze of sleep.  The room was unfamiliar, Dean realized after a few moments, but he felt no need to grab the weapon he habitually kept under his pillow, no instinct to leap into a defensive posture.  He knew on some level below conscious thought, that he was safe here.  

It was just a dream,  he decided.

But no, he realized as he sat up and the memories came back.  He hadn't just dreamed his final moments.  He'd lived them.  He was dead.  The thought brought satisfaction.  He'd done his part.  He'd done everything in his power to ensure Lucifer's ultimate defeat.  To give Sammy the best chance he could of surviving.  

He'd died a warrior's death.  

...And now it seemed he was in some sort of motel room.   One with a wild west theme.  Awesome.

Complimentary snacks!  Cool.

Dean plopped himself down on the second bed in the room, making note of the framed childhood photo of himself and his mother and  the cowboy boots made into a lamp.   He opened the bedside table drawer.

A stash of porn and weapons!  This place was great.

Dean continued his investigation.  Heading to the window, he looked out on a suburban cul-de-sac.  A little unusual, but the sight of his baby parked on the street below drove speculation about the location of the motel from his mind.  His Impala had made it to the afterlife, too!

The decor was perfect for a fan of the old west.  A potted cactus, knotty pine paneling, and a rustic side table...

...Holding a taxidermied armadillo.  His taxidermied armadillo, Dean thought, picking the little guy up to examine it closer.

The fieldstone fireplace mantel displayed another framed photograph:  Dean, Sammy, and Bobby.  A large postcard reminded Dean of his and Sam's annual pilgrimage to Las Vegas.  

He just knew the cowboy boots at the foot of the bed would fit him perfectly.  

Dean perused the old photographs on the wall.  They looked authentic.  Calamity Jane hung above Billy the Kid.

A stuffed buffalo trophy was the centerpiece of this wall.  Dean couldn't resist touching it.  

"Oh.  That's real!"

More portraits caught Dean's eye.  The famous lawman, Wyatt Earp, and Kissin' Kate Barlow herself!

A real, functional, hand-tooled leather saddle was yet another artifact displayed in the living area. 

Dean decided to take a moment to sit down on a vaguely familiar-feeling leather sofa to contemplate this strange afterlife.  He had no idea where this place was, but it was...  

"Awesome!"

Downstairs, Bobby loitered in the entrance to the kitchen, watching Ellen slam doors and bang pots.

Her eyes were over-bright with unshed tears.  Bobby didn't blame her.  He felt more than a little like crying himself. 

"Ellen,"  Bobby said, interrupting her percussive coffee preparation.

"I'm fine,"  she snapped.

She yanked open a drawer with entirely unnecessary force.

"You ain't all right,"  Bobby argued as she slammed the drawer shut.  "None of us are all right."

He wasn't even sure at that point if Ellen had registered the meaning of his words, but they had the desired effect of getting her to reply.  

"Bill and Jo have been dead for years,"  she said, whirling to face him.  "Why can't the house bring them back?  Why's it gotta be Dean?"

"I've been here for months, Bobby.  John's only been here a couple of weeks, and he gets his wife back?  And now his son, too?"  Ellen's voice cracked.  

"It ain't fair!"

"I'm sorry, Bobby.  God, I feel so petty and mean and selfish for thinkin' that way--"  

Bobby could see the tears welling up in Ellen's eyes.  

"Shh..."  He wrapped her up in his arms.   

"You ain't petty.  You got the best heart of anybody I know."

Bobby stroked Ellen's hair as she relaxed into his embrace and hugged him back, her arms around his waist.  They stood that way for a long time, the contact comforting them both.

Ellen finished making coffee and they were seated at the kitchen table silently sipping it when Rufus barged in the side door, looking pleased with himself.  

"Liquor is quicker but donuts are dandy,"  he announced.  "And bein' dead already, we don't have to worry about the sugar diabetes!"

Meanwhile, John had reacted to Mary's revelation by hauling ass out of the room.  Mary followed him, determined to get the inevitable confrontation over with before Dean made his appearance.  

"John, wait!"

"You can't just give me the silent treatment!"

John turned, but instead of anger, he was calm.  No, Mary thought, calm would have been okay.  This was not okay.  John was cold.  Indifferent, as if he'd drawn a blank mask of control over his features.  It was a side of him that hadn't existed during their life together as a young married couple.

"The silent treatment is better than anything I'm tempted to say right now,"  John told her quietly.  

Mary let him walk away.  

There was a knock at the door.  

"Now what?"  Bobby grumbled.

He got up and opened the side door.  It was one of the neighbors, Mike.  The hunters had met everyone on the cul-de-sac, and so far their pretext of being just ordinary folks had held up.  

"Hey, ese,"  Bobby greeted him, trying to fake an enthusiasm he certainly didn't feel.

"Man, that Chevy you got parked out front is cherry,"  Mike enthused.

"What a great car.  Tell me we're gonna take her out for a spin one day soon, okay, Bobby?"  

Mike was manager of a high-end mechanic shop, Bobby knew.  Luxury automobiles like BMWs.   But the guy knew his classic American cars, too.

"Sure,"  he said.  "One of these days."  

"You all right, man?  This a bad time?"  

"Yeah.  Sorry,"  Bobby admitted.  What the hell, he decided.  Might as well tell the truth.  It didn't seem like an elaborate cover story was needed in this case.  

"We, ah, just got word of a death in the family."

"Oh, that's too bad.  Condolences on your loss, man."  Mike was instantly sympathetic, patting Bobby's shoulder.  

"I'll send over some food."  

Bobby couldn't help but be touched by his sincerity, as odd as it seemed to be talking with a 'civilian'.  

"Oh, no, you don't need to do anything.   We're fine."

"Nah.  Don't mention it."

Bobby stepped back inside and saw Dean entering the kitchen through the dining room.  His grief immediately turned into joy.  

"Ellen!"  Dean swept Ellen up in a tight hug.

"Bobby!"  Dean grabbed him, knocking Bobby's hat askew.  

Bobby hugged him, feeling the tears well up in his eyes.  His boy was home.

"Rufus, good to see you, man!"  Rufus extended a hand and Dean shook it vigorously...

Then yanked the reserved hunter into an embrace.  

"Come here, you!" Dean said, his voice gruff with emotion.  

Dean took the opportunity to dig his knuckles into Rufus' close-cropped afro, administering some 'noogies.'

Rufus grappled Dean around the waist, getting in a few retaliatory noogies of his own.  

The sound of Mary's voice stopped the impromptu horseplay abruptly.

"Dean!"  she cried, arms flung wide to pull him to her.

"Mom!"  Dean picked her right up off her feet.

"Dean!"  

"Dad!"  

Bobby surreptitiously wiped tears as the two men embraced.  Dean was here.  The A-frame suddenly felt like home.

"Now I know what this place is,"  Dean said, as if reading Bobby's mind.  

"It's home."

Next Episode