Grief is a strange condition. Everybody grieves differently---and grieves different things. We grieve loved ones. We grieve lost opportunities. We grieve for what could have been. We grieve for what will never be. We grieve the end of relationships. There's no real wrong way to grieve, either. Some cry and seclude themselves. Others shout and scream in anger. We grieve each loss differently, too. One loss may make us cry while another makes us angry. Grief is something we all experience, and we all experience it differently---which is okay.
Let's look at how “Captives” captured grief.
Our first example is Del. He is Crowley's lackey, put in charge of holding Mrs. Tran and other hostages. He's angry, a demon, and cruel. Del is frustrated. He feels as if he's stuck in a dead-end job with no hope for advancement or reward. His story, on the surface, may not seem like a story of mourning, but dig deeper and one can see that there's a current of grief, albeit as much as a demon can feel, of course.
This grief shows itself when Del has captured Dean and starts to spout off all his frustrations about his assignment to the elder Winchester. Sure, it is comical and full of anger at the King of Hell---after all, Del begins his tirade with an impersonation of Crowley that comes off as scathing and mocking. He tells Dean, “Yeah. What a privilege. Feeding the apes, hosing the floors, washing out the honey buckets, and for zero credit. The boss, M.I.A.” and “Too important to show for work, to even return my calls.”
It's not Crowley that Del grieves for by any means. He most certainly has no love lost for the King of Hell. He's not really upset that he hasn't seen Crowley in months---close to over a year---due to any real concern for him. No, what Del really grieves is the opportunity he knows is now lost to him forever. He already screwed up with Candy. She got away and instead of putting her back into her cell, he killed her. That was against Crowley's orders, and when the King of Hell would have found out it's mostly likely he would have been very angry with Del.
Del knows this. Now that Dean's informed him that he's been “thick as thieves” with Crowley, Del also knows that he's going to be in even more trouble than ever. This was supposed to be his “stepping stone,” his entrance into Crowley's operation so that he could have a more powerful position in Hell someday. Instead it has turned into his own Hell on earth as he languishes in a “go nowhere, no kill joke of a job.”
Del expresses all of his grief through angry outbursts. He's a demon, so that's expected. And after he quits, he's determined to follow through all the way. Why not kill Dean Winchester rather than wait for Crowley to exact his wrath on him? If he's already in trouble, why not have fun along the way? It'll allow him to release some of his grief over the loss of his rise in Hell. He knows, at this point, that there's no recovery for this.
Del isn't the only one grieving lost opportunities, of course. So is Bartholomew.
Bartholomew saw his rise under Naomi as a chance to climb higher in the hierarchy---and with her death, a chance to claim power as a leader himself. Instead, he finds himself locked out of his home and trying to gather angels to his cause to restore Heaven. This is an opportunity, too, but it's not at all how he planned his take over going. This was supposed to be far easier for him.
Without Naomi around, Bartholomew figured he could easily muscle his way into ruling Heaven. Fighting that war up in Heaven would have been far easier, too. Considering some of the limitations on angels since the Fall---it seems they all have to drive and take other methods of transportation these days---it slows down much of his coalition building efforts.
Bartholomew, like Del, is angry and has expressed much of his grief at the loss of his home through violent outbursts. He's flippantly killed would be vessels, as he does the girl in Buddy Boyle's office, or other angels that refused to take his side on the faction fight. Humans are a necessary inconvenience to him---something they have to possess in order to make their efforts to take back Heaven from Metatron possible. He doesn't like it, though.
But Bartholomew isn't merely grieving the current situation nor is he grieving his lost opportunity at taking Heaven while in Heaven. He's grieving oh so much more. We discover this when we see him sit down with Castiel. He's in awe of the angel and tells him, “Word of your victory spread. You got called back to the garrison. You became the great Castiel.” We can tell, here, that Bartholomew had hoped for so much more after Castiel's victory. He finishes his statement by saying, “While I stayed behind, just a grunt.”
Much like Del wanted to ride Crowley's coattails, Bartholomew saw Castiel's rise as a way for him to rise, too. He thought he'd be more powerful, have more clout, and be more important in the hierarchy of Heaven after Castiel had defeated Raphael. After all, he had helped Castiel in his war against the archangel. Bartholomew wanted what he feels is his just desserts for supporting the “rebel” angel. Instead, he was forgotten, abandoned, and put on the back burner to work for yet another ambitious angel in Naomi.
Now that he's leader, he is taking his grief out on everyone that doesn't side with him. As he drags in Rebecca's lone follower, he gives Castiel a choice: torture and kill this angel or die yourself. Unfortunately, when Castiel chooses the latter, Bartholomew kills the other angel anyways and proceeds to fight with Castiel. If Castiel won't do as he is told, Bartholomew will force the angel to defend himself anyways.
Bartholomew grieved what could have been and what has happened and Castiel was the one he saw at fault in both cases. His grief channeled itself through anger---and in the end it's what cost Bartholomew his life. He forced Castiel to fight and in doing so he forced the angel to defend himself. As he lunges with his hidden blade, he is out-maneuvered by Castiel, finding it thrust into his own chest. His grief held him completely captive---and his ambition to fix what had gone wrong since Castiel's victory over Raphael gave it all the fuel it needed for him to be reckless.
But what about Castiel? What did he grieve?
Much like Bartholomew, Castiel is grieving the state of the angelic host---but for very different reasons.
As we watched Castiel's story unfold in the first half of the season, we watched him cope with his new humanity and all the emotions that emerged with it. Castiel had felt these emotions before---but in a very detached and analytical way. He could recognize them to a degree, but he didn't understand them. Guilt, sadness, grief, and love in many ways were nothing more than words. Castiel couldn't truly understand what made humans feel the way they do about things. Now that he has experienced it first hand, Castiel now has an understanding. He has the empathy that he lacked before.
Now that he has regained angelic grace, the fighting between his siblings has only made him grieve what has become of his family all the more. They had always been at war with one another to a degree, jockeying for power and position within Heaven's hierarchy, but it had been controlled in the past. With Michael's imposing presence, the Host had direction and orders it would follow. Now that he and the grand scheme of the Apocalypse have been thwarted, angels have become all the more faction and power hungry.
Castiel has witnessed this first hand both in Heaven and now on earth. It is almost more tragic as it happens on earth because they are slaughtering one another at an accelerated rate---even those that have taken neutral stances. He has arrived at Rebecca's funeral in hopes to pay his respects to another fallen sister---only to express his outrage at another angel's attendance. It isn't hard to fathom that this angel may have played a role in her death and had come to gloat over the coffin. Castiel doesn't know that any angel can truly turn off their drive to fight and kill other angels in the post-Fall aftermath.
As he listens to the other angel's story, he truly realizes how bad the fighting has gotten. He had heard as much from Muriel---and then he was forced to witness her murder at Malachi's orders. She, too, was neutral. She, too, wanted nothing to do with the endless warring for power. Any angel that seems to stand aside and allow the factions leading the pack to rule has become nothing more than a threat themselves. They must choose a side or die---and so many are being eliminated in the end.
For this, Castiel grieves. His siblings have become so bloodthirsty and blind to their own anger. His siblings are bent on destroying one another. It's not hard to see this line of thinking as we watch Castiel sit across from Bartholomew. It's all in his body language. Grief etches its way across his face, telling us all we need to know. He has to know if this faction war continues that it won't matter when they manage to undo Metatron's spell. There might not be any angels left to populate Heaven at this current rate of death.
Castiel knows this---and he knows that Muriel's statement that “It's madness” rings true just as much for Bartholomew as it did for Malachi. So, Castiel shows his grief by standing with Rebecca's principles. He will not fight and he will not kill his siblings. Not anymore. Not in order to acquire power or followers. Not to become the ruler of Heaven. Castiel refuses to join Bartholomew's faction. He tells the angel, “I was never free to leave. My only choice was to obey or be killed. Well, I choose.”
Castiel would rather die than continue the cycle. Unfortunately, Bartholomew kills the prisoner instead before engaging in a fight to the death with Castiel. Castiel may not wish to fight and will not be commanded to do so, but he will defend himself. He gives Bartholomew options. He gives him a chance to stand down. Just when he thinks that he has managed to do so, Bartholomew pulls his weapon and tries to stab him in the back.
It leaves Castiel no choice but to turn that blade back on its user. In a swift motion, it is driven into Bartholomew's chest, rendering the faction leader dead on the floor.
Castiel grieves this, too, and we see it clearly as he stands in front of Rebecca's grave. Castiel isn't merely grieving what is currently happening. He's grieving the fact that he set this type of example. When he had taken power in Heaven, he was the one that set about slaughtering many of the Raphael loyalists. He set the precedent more than ever to kill other angels that didn't agree with the new plan. Other faction leaders have merely fallen suit.
In a touching moment, Castiel confesses to Rebecca's grave, “Sorry I created this chaos. Sorry I couldn't do more to fix it. You may have lost the war, Rebecca, but you tried a new way. You have my respect for that.”
Castiel's grief perhaps can be seen as a starting point. As he gains new followers that are starting to see this point of view---of stopping the endless slaughter---perhaps he can earn the respect that he so clearly has given to Rebecca.
But there's other more emotional forms of grief. We see that in the human stories surrounding Kevin and his mother, Mrs. Linda Tran.
The last we had heard of Mrs. Tran, we had been told that she had been captured, tortured, and possibly killed by Crowley. It was how the King of Hell had located the Prophet in the first place. He knew that Mrs. Tran would reach a threshold of pain and tell him where her son was hiding. That gamble worked, and he captured Kevin.
But while Crowley was in the Men of Letter's dungeon, he told a distraught Kevin that she may be alive. Kevin accuses him of murdering his mother, and he replies back, “Did I?” It left us and Kevin to wonder if there was any truth to this story. After all, what did Crowley truly have to gain by keeping Kevin's mother alive once he acquired the information he needed?
As it turns out, however, she is indeed alive. After the brothers get a tip from Kevin's spirit, they follow the leads to a storage locker where she is being held. As we see her for the first time in over a year, we see a changed woman. She's always been a strong woman since her introduction, but here we can see that her steel has only gotten stronger during her ordeal. She may be frightened at first, but she's ready and willing to fight, too.
Mrs. Tran has only one concern on her mind, and that is her son, Kevin. She has been afraid for him, she has grieved handing him over, and she has struggled to stay alive in hopes that she may see him at least one more time. As Sam enters the storage cell, she begs to be taken to her son. But before they can leave, they are locked in by Del. It'll take them cutting the wiring on the control panel to get out. She states firmly, “Good. Now all we have to do is get this door open, get the hell out of here, and you will bring me to my son.”
Sam can't lie to her any longer, and so he gently covers her hand to tell her the sad news. With just one glance at Sam's heartbroken face, she knows the truth. Kevin is dead.
Her grief takes on an outward expression of even more steel. Her son may be dead, but that doesn't mean she won't demand to see him in whatever form he may be taking now. She didn't endure this terrible hostage situation all this time to give up now. It's not in her nature.
But before she can be taken to Kevin, Mrs. Tran has one action she must complete. Her grief demands anger just as much as it does sorrow. It seeks vengeance, and as the brothers turn the tables on Del, they hand Crowley's lackey over to her. “With pleasure,” she stabs the young demon, ending any possible threat he may have posed to her---or her son.
And yet, as she sees Kevin at the Bunker, we see a gentle sorrow begin to blanket her. Her grief takes on a new form. Her son stands before her, able to speak and hear, but she cannot embrace him as she would in life. Kevin is merely a spirit now. It is heartbreaking to see her face as she sees him, knowing this. She had managed to survive to see him---and yet he has not.
Mrs Tran, therefore, grieves what could have been for Kevin. She had been pleased that her son was held in high esteem as a Prophet of the Lord---but she always feared for him, and now those fears have come to pass. She grieves for all the high hopes she had for him prior to his elevation to Prophet: his education, his job prospects, his promise. Mrs. Tran suffered great torture for this Kevin---and for the Kevin he had become.
Even so, Mrs. Tran will not cease in her love or care for her son. Her grief begs her to take care of him the only way she knows how. She knows that he may change, that the longer he's trapped in this state the more angry he may become. She tells Dean, “He's my son. It's my job to keep him safe for as long as I can.”
But Mrs. Tran isn't the only one grieving. Kevin is, too.
Much like Del and Bartholomew---and to an extent Castiel---Kevin is mourning what could have been. If he hadn't been a Prophet, if he had managed to get out sooner, and if he hadn't dragged his mother into this, what would be different now? Would he still be on his school track? Would he be on route to becoming that first Asian-American President? Would his mother have never known torture? Would he still be alive? There's so many what ifs for him, and now that time has stopped for him upon his death, he'll never know.
But Kevin is truly grieving for his mother more than ever. He had been tortured by thoughts of her fate since he had been captured by Crowley. It's why Crowley could push that button so well on Kevin. He grieved the fact that his mother was dead because of him---and now that he is dead he learns that she is indeed alive.
We see this grief in his pleading with the Winchesters. The tiny bit of information---no matter how vague---drives him to learn more. It is the only hope he has to hang onto at the moment. He might not have survived this, but knowing that there's a chance his mother might have is enough for now. And so, he points them towards Candy. He tells them, “You say you want to make it right? This is how.”
Once he and his mother are reunited, though, we see Kevin mirror his mother's grief. He is full of sorrow, and he asks quietly, “Does she know?”
We can see in his expression, much like Mrs. Tran's, that he's grieving their inability to actually touch. He is thrilled that his mother is indeed alive, but he grieves for everything she has had to endure. His mother spent over a year being held hostage. His mother was tortured for him---because of him. He may grieve what his life may have been if he hadn't been called to being a Prophet, but he grieves much more for what it has done to his mother.
He says firmly, “She was held and tortured for a year because of me. Now that I found her, I'm not letting her out of my sight. She's my responsibility.”
Even though she has endured so much harm because of him, Kevin can also tell that his being a spirit hurts her more. Kevin grieves for this, too. He had wanted to find her, to follow through on Crowley's taunt before now, but couldn't. Now that he has found her, he can only return with her as a spirit. It is painful for him and for her.
Kevin tells the brothers, “My mom's taking home a ghost.”
It's a powerful moment of grief.
Before he goes, he also tells the brothers, “Can you two... Get over it? Dudes, just 'cause you couldn't see me doesn't mean I couldn't see you. The drama, the fighting... It's stupid.”
Sam and Dean are grieving, too. And yet, each does it differently.
We've seen the brothers grieve in the past---in fact they've been grieving on some level since we first met them in the Pilot. They will always grieve for their mother. The first time we see them grieve a fresh loss, however, is the loss of their father. There, Sam wants to talk, Sam wants to engage in the loss and share it with Dean. Dean doesn't. He wants to push through the pain, bury it, burn it with their father's corpse, and never think about how much it hurts ever again. It leads to an angry outburst as he smashes in the Impala's trunk.
The brothers grieve the loss of Bobby, another father figure, differently. They do so in silence but together. They sit in the cabin and mourn him. They don't have to talk about it. They don't have to wonder what the other is feeling about this tragedy. They know. It isn't until Dean starts his crusade against Dick Roman that we see their grief paths differ. He goes for revenge while Sam tries to cope with what happened quietly.
But the loss of Kevin is being grieved completely differently. Each brother is approaching this loss in their own way.
When the brothers discover that the Bunker is haunted---and in particular by Kevin---each brother takes this news in his own way. We can see it from the very start. Sam asks quietly, “Kevin?” and Dean wishes to say what he felt could never be said. The brothers both feel guilty for their own reasons---and so when Kevin asks them to find his mother, they can't do anything but oblige.
Dean wants to talk about it, wants to explore what he's feeling about it---and while he hasn't said as much to his brother, we can tell it in this episode by how he addresses Kevin's spirit, unsure if it's truly him. The speech is emotionally bare. Dean wants Kevin to know that he's sorry. He says, “Kevin, I'm sorry. You did not choose this life. You busted your ass, you lost everything, everyone you've loved... And your reward? Getting killed... On my watch. If I... It was on me. It was my fault, and...”
Dean's not only grieving Kevin---he's also thanking him in his own way. Kevin may not agree, but this is Dean's attempt and he knows that he should take the chance he's given. It's also why he will follow this Candy lead all the way, despite calling her a “no-show.” The brothers find themselves in the forest where Candy died, trying to follow Kevin's lead. Both are dedicated to the case, even if they're uncertain about its outcome. Dean expresses, “Hey, we at least owe it to the kid to try, right? ” He owes Kevin and he feels responsible for what happened. It's this feeling of responsibility that wraps around his grief.
As soon as they get their next lead, they make their way to the Castle Storage where the hostages are being held. Here, we see Sam's grief bubble to the surface. He doesn't have to say a word the way his brother did. His grief is written explicitly all over his face. It's in how he carries himself.
This is most evident when he watches Mrs. Tran frantically try to cut the right wire. Her hopes at seeing her son makes him unable to mask the truth any longer. Grief etches his face and his expression softens into one of absolute sorrow. He must tell her what has happened---and yet he can't find the words. Instead, Sam lets his grief write the story on his face, telling her for him what she must now know.
But what is Sam grieving?
He's certainly grieving Kevin's loss. That's not even a question. Kevin may have been the Winchester's ally in the fight against Heaven and Hell as a Prophet, but mostly importantly, he was their friend. Sam grieves that it was his body, his hand that cut that life short. He, much like Dean, feels responsible.
Sam feared that there might not be a way for Kevin to emerge intact. He thought so as much when they first heard about the Trials. To know that he was right about this, that “the life” and being a Prophet would cost Kevin his, has overwhelmed him on some level.
As the brothers reunite mother and son---and as Kevin asks them to set aside their differences, we see Sam flee shortly afterward. It's not that he doesn't want to adhere to Kevin's wish. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to his brother. He is so emotionally stretched---so thin and beyond his breaking point---that all he wants to do right now is feel that loss deeply in solitude.
It is how Sam grieves the loss of Kevin. He wanted to desperately talk about their father's death, but this time, Sam wants to feel it alone before he can handle it with Dean or anyone else. It's why we don't see him talk about it, even with Mrs. Tran when he must break the tragic news. He lets his expression do that for him. It's too raw, too fresh, too deep for him. This loss makes him withdraw into himself.
And that's okay.
We know that eventually Sam will have to address it---and we are shown that while Dean doesn't chase down his brother here, perhaps that's Dean learning the lesson he was being taught in “The Purge,” to respect Sam's wishes, to give him the space he needs, and to let him decide when he's ready to talk about this.
That's progress for the Winchesters---and while it may seem small on its surface, it's a huge step!
James Immekus presented Del, Linda Tran's captor. In the beginning, when he's first introduced, Immekus makes Del innocuous and harmless. There was a skittish vibe about him. Del seemed to also be a stickler for the rules, haughtily telling the brothers that they don't share records. Immekus shows us Del's exasperation well when he shouts for his co-worker, as if this request is just too much. Once Del is revealed to be Crowley's demon, he turns twisted and cruel. Immekus makes Del angry and frustrated, especially showcased in the speech he delivers to Dean. It's as if a cork has been pulled from a bottle, and Immekus shows us that Del's like a firehose, venting everything that he's been feeling about this assignment. He hasn't had an audience until now---aside from his captives---so he's unloading now. Immekus shows us this best in the way he paces and his use of gestures. He wants to be validated for all his hard work and so he's making his case, even if it is to Dean Winchester. The best part of his rant, of course, is his spot on impression of his boss, Crowley. The condescension in his voice sells it well here. We can almost imagine this conversation taking place just the way Del delivers this impersonation. Once he's cuffed, we see Del's fear well. Immekus shows that well in squirming and his pleas. He may have vented about Crowley, but he's still very much afraid of the King of Hell. Immekus was a nice addition to the show, even if he does make a swift and brutal exit here.
Adam J. Harrington comes back as Bartholomew. Harrington makes him as haughty and arrogant in this performance as his first. This time, it would seem, Bartholomew has a lot more clout and power, so he seems much more certain of himself. Harrington seems to strut as Bartholomew---and yet, when we see him come face to face with Castiel, we hold our breaths waiting to see what he'll do. The warm welcoming seems false and jarring in Harrington's portrayal. It's clear that underneath his veneer of friendliness that he's holding Castiel hostage. Harrington shows us that Bartholomew is trying to pressure Castiel into joining his faction---at first he does so by trying to stroke Castiel's ego, and then he does so by telling him that there's no way that Castiel can find Metatron without him. Once that fails and Castiel refuses to kill the other angel, Bartholomew's demeanor totally changes. Harrington brings back the haughty and cruel angel we were first introduced to, and as he pushes Castiel into a corner leaving him little choice but to defend himself, we can tell that Bartholomew was jealous of Castiel. Harrington shows that best in the delivery of his lines and his body language as he engages in the fight. Unfortunately for Bartholomew, his actions mean his end and he goes out in a flash.
Lauren Tom reprises the role of Mrs. Tran with gusto and grit. From the moment we first see her in her holding cell, we can tell that she's as strong and stubborn as ever. Tom makes Mrs. Tran connect with us best when Sam finally finds her. Her insistence that she be brought to her son makes our hearts hurt. When Sam puts his hand on hers to stop her from cutting the wire, we can tell just by the look that crosses Tom's face that Mrs. Tran knows that her son is dead. Instead of breaking down, however, we see Tom add a steely resolve to Mrs. Tran and her portrayal of the Prophet's mother becomes all the more powerful here. Once we see mother and son reunited, we see a softness enter Tom's performance. We can see the heartbreak written all over her face---but also the joy at being able to see her son. Tom makes use of Mrs. Tran's determination when she tells the Winchesters, “He's my son. It's my job to keep him safe for as long as I can.” Now that Mrs. Tran has been revealed to be alive, we may see her and her son yet again down the road.
Osric Chau returned as Kevin Tran---albeit this time as a spirit. It was a pleasant although bittersweet sight. Chau presented the Kevin we've come to love---stubborn, loyal, and exasperated---and yet we could sense a quiet resignation in this performance. Kevin seemed to accept his death, but he couldn't let go of his mother. Even in death, we saw Kevin frantic for her well-being, especially after hearing from another spirit that his mother was alive. Chau showed Kevin's determination to help her when he pressed the Winchesters to find her and we could sense it in just how he carried himself and delivered his lines. He shines best when they finally bring his mother to him as we see a gentleness settle over him. Chau really hit home, however, when he delivered Kevin's speech to the brothers. The way he tells them, “My mom's taking home a ghost. You two, you're both still here,” can't help but make us cheer. Now that Kevin has figured out how to pierce the Veil, perhaps we'll see Chau reprise him yet again.
Misha Collins captured Castiel's growth well in “Captives.” We see all the lessons he learned in the earlier portion of the season start to coalesce in this performance. Collins shows us that in Castiel's anger with the other angel at the beginning, his pausing to listen, and his show of grief when confronted by Bartholomew. Collins gives us all of Castiel's growth best when we see him refuse to take Bartholomew's order to kill the angel he had earlier confronted in anger. There's steel and resolve in his facial expressions when he turns that blade towards his own heart. And as we see Castiel stand before Rebecca's grave, Collins shows us how heartbroken Castiel has become by the state of affairs between angels. He shows the angel's hesitancy in becoming a leader, and we can sense it in his voice. Collins conveys all of Castiel's feelings of unworthiness at being chosen as a new neutral faction leader---a new leader for peace. As we push further into the season, it'll interesting to see how Collins continues to show us Castiel's growth and understanding.
Jensen Ackles managed to tell us Dean's story with subtle grace in this episode. We could feel deeply with him at every turn, especially when the Bunker is revealed to be haunted. Dean's denial reads well in body language and vocal tone, and Ackles shows us that it is pain that drives this feeling. As they have it confirmed that it is indeed Kevin, Ackles shows us how deeply grieved Dean is in the speech. The gestures, the looking away from the coffee maker, and the soft tone of voice captures us here. We can feel Dean's obligation to Kevin in how they go about pursuing the leads that will take them to Mrs. Tran, all in how he takes the coffee maker out and how they work Del over at the storage place. Ackles shines best, however, when we see Sam and Dean reunite mother and son. Dean is full of grief here most. He knows that he failed and instead of sending a living Kevin home with his mother, he's sending a ghost. That responsibility he felt to find Mrs. Tran doesn't end there, and Ackles shows that well in this scene. As he gives Mrs. Tran the run down on what might happen and what tools should be used, we sense a deep sorrow in Dean's voice, all in how Ackles delivers his lines. As we close in on him listening to music to close out the episode, we see him experience his grief in quiet.
Jared Padalecki captures Sam beautifully in “Captives.” We see all of Sam's emotions on his sleeve in this performance. We see it the moment Sam picks up that sword, preparing to protect himself from the ghost and we see it in his facial expressions as they work the case to find Kevin's mother. Padalecki tells us so much between and around his dialogue with just his body language and facial cues. Sam is hurting in this episode---but he is still the hero. He is willing to push through his own sorrow in order to start making amends to Kevin. Padalecki conveys this well when we see Sam reach Mrs. Tran and his efforts to save her before they're locked in the cell together. With one single look and a soft, “Listen, Ms. Tran,” Padalecki shows us Sam breaking the news. He doesn't have to expound on it, he doesn't have to spell it out. He shows it all here on his face and with his sorrowful expression. That doesn't mean, however, that Padalecki doesn't show Sam's steel. We see that when he is holding the knife in front of Del, telling him that they have a far worse fate than Crowley in mind for him. The expression is grim, telling us all we need to know. Once they're back at the Bunker, as Kevin admonishes them, we can see Sam's heartbreak all over again, just by how his face crumbles. Once the brothers are alone, Padalecki captures how overwhelmed Sam feels through his rushed movements and shattered facial expression. This shows best when he hesitates at his door, and we know he's entering his room to mourn in quiet solitude.
Best Lines of the Week:
Sam: That's your third unanswered voicemail. You ever think maybe he's just not that into you?
Castiel: I was never free to leave. My only choice was to obey or be killed. Well, I choose.
Kevin: Can you two... Get over it? Dudes, just 'cause you couldn't see me doesn't mean I couldn't see you. The drama, the fighting... It's stupid. My mom's taking home a ghost. You two... You're both still here.
Next week, the Ghostfacers come to assist the Winchesters.