Back on topic, Dean protests, "Santa doesn't have a brother -- there is no Santa!" "Yeah, I know," Sam huffily sniffs. "You're the one who told me that in the first place, remember?" Dean widens his eyes a bit in surprise at this childish outburst, then gets a deeply guilty look on his face, and ah, The Angst. We all knew it was coming this episode, as it must in all holiday specials, but whoever would have guessed how little I've missed it? "Everyone?!" shrieks Raoul, trying to be helpful. My question was as rhetorical as Dean's was a couple of sentences ago, Raoul. Why don't you have another flagon? "If you insist!" In any event, after fidgeting under El Deano's sullen gaze for a moment, Darling Sammy flops his arms around and admits he's likely wrong with the whole ridiculous Bad Santa thing, but Dean steps up to surprise him with, "Maybe, maybe not -- I did a little digging, [and it] turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched." "Where?" Sam gasps.

Santa's Village, of course, which is a thoroughly decrepit holiday-themed assemblage of broken-down shacks from the 1950s attached to a tree farm on the outskirts of town. Brain-damaged preadolescents skip merrily past a downtrodden-looking guy in a reindeer suit on their way to Santa's super-special enclave, and Blitzen shoots the kids a weary and deeply annoyed side-eye before shuffling past an equally blasé colleague in an elf costume just as Our Intrepid Heroes arrive on the lot. The boys back-and-forth a bit over the merits of Sam's Anti-Claus theory before Dean changes the subject by announcing that they should indulge in a traditional Christmas this year. "We'll get a tree, a little Boston Market!" he enthuses. "Just like when we were little!" And I'm sorry, Dean, but knowing how much your worthless bastard of a so-called father sucked, I'm not buying the Boston Market thing, because it's far more likely that cheapskate asshole just served the two of you some shoplifted Stouffer's macaroni and cheese he warmed up on the Impala's engine block. "Those weren't exactly Hallmark memories for me," Sam immediately pffts, lending credence to my theory, so thanks, Sam! They continue to bicker about the real or imagined suckage of Christmases past for a bit until Sam flatly refuses to indulge Dean's ludicrous wish for a "Christmas miracle" in their seedy motel room, and that sounds a lot dirtier than it did when the boys said it on the TV. "It certainly does!" Raoul giggles, dribbling flaming rum punch over his chin, and, um, Raoul? "Yes?!" Aren't you supposed to, you know, extinguish the fire before you sip the cocktail? "Certainly not! Honestly! I simply can't imagine the sorts of heathens who raised you for you even to suggest such a thing!" Fine! Fine! Just don't set your armchair on fire. "I'll try!" Yeesh. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes: Dean calls Sam a grinch and performs a Dean Winchester Patented Bow-Legged Clompy Stomp Of Faux Vengeance And Feigned Anger away from his pouty-lipped younger brother, who for his part drops his shaggily maned head to stare the plastic reindeer at his feet straight in the eye until he's hurled into...