Okay, enough with the elaborate Previouslys set to the head-banging mullet rock, guys. I realize it was sort of necessary for tonight's season premiere, but seriously. This is the third episode in a row, for God's sake, and don't you all realize you totally blew your collective wad with "Carry On My Wayward Son" last season, anyway? Besides, dredging up those links was a BITCH.
A huge, flaming "NOW" emerges from the darkness to linger on the screen for a moment before we cross-fade to the wreck's immediate aftermath. The camera, starting from about thirty yards away, scurries up to the mangled Metallicar at an angle so low it might as well be some rat-like woodland scavenger scampering up to feast on the Winchesters' rapidly cooling remains. Credence Clearwater Revival's "Bad Moon Rising" can still be heard, even though (and yes, I actually went back and checked) last year's finale ended with the song's last twangy, ch-cha-chang-ing chord. I'll let that slide, though, because the song's presence under what follows is delightfully creepy. The camera lingers on Metallicar for a moment before cutting over to the demonically possessed trucker's boot slowly and deliberately stepping down from the cab. We pan up his denim-clad form to linger on his eerily waxy face. He turns his beetle-black eyes to the road to make sure he's alone, then starts over towards Our Boys. John's slumped unconscious in the front seat. Ditto for the elaborately-bloodied Dean in the back. Sam, puffy from his earlier beatdown, swallows and blinks his eye just as Demon Trucker stalks up to the driver's-side door. Demon Trucker latches onto the handle and the rear-view mirror and yanks, ripping the entire thing away from the rest of the car, only to find Puffy And Barely Conscious Sam waiting for him with that fucking Colt at the ready. "Get back, or I'll kill you, I swear to God," Puffy Sam gurgles. "You won't," the Demon Trucker challenges in an even tone of voice. "You're saving that bullet for someone else." Puffy Sam gathers whatever strength he has left to cock that fucking Colt, point its business end directly at Demon Trucker's chest, and sneer, "Wanna bet?" Demon Trucker smirks at this tepid display of manly heroics for a bit before that waxy face of his cracks apart in agony as the demon within takes its leave via a gout of black spray that shoots out of the trucker's mouth. It congeals into a cloud that hovers above the scene for a moment, then sweeps away on the breeze. Accompanied by the usual chorus of hellhounds howling and chittering on the soundtrack, of course. The dispossessed trucker collapses to his knees as Sam chokes out a sigh of relief while de-cocking that fucking Colt. As Sam allows his head to drop back against the seat, the dispossessed trucker -- face more sweat-sheened and ruddy than waxy now that the demon's gone, and that's a nice touch -- gapes and shudders out a horrified-yet-doddering, "Oh, my God! Did I do this?" Meanwhile, Sam's been calling for his father, who remains unresponsive. Go figure. Increasingly panicked, Sam swivels his head on the backrest and weakly bleats, "Dean?" before drawing in as much air as his no-doubt punctured lungs can handle to bellow, "DEAN!"