"You're wrong. You know how I know? Think of the million random acts of chance that let John and Mary be born, to meet, to fall in love, to have the two of you. Think of the million random choices that you make, and yet how each and every one of them brings you closer to your destiny. Do you know why that is? Because it's not random. It's not chance -- it's a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will's an illusion, Dean. That's why you're going to say yes."
Bummer for the rather vocal proponents of free will on the forum boards, I suppose. However, it's not all bad news for them and for Dashing El Deano, here. At least Michael won't leave Dean a drooling, babbling, hollow shell of his former self when it's all over, as his fellow angels tend to do once they've finished with their Vessels. And as for Doable John and Unburnt Mary? Michael's going to give them a complete mind-wipe -- they won't remember anything about the angels, nor will they remember anything about Adult Dean's visits to the past. "You can't do that!" Dean protests, and -- proving that he, oh, still doesn't get it -- he adds, "She's gonna walk right into that nursery!" St. Michael has the good grace not to respond to this latest example of Dean's stupidity with a blatant "Um, duuuuuuuuuuuh!" but his somewhat testy "Obviously!" comes close. Dean has the gall to look injured by all of this, but whatever, because it's time for Michael to send Dead Sam back to the future, which he does with a light touch of his fingertips to Dead Sam's dead forehead, and in a nice little effects shot, the iron bar with which Anna impaled Our Intrepid Corpse clatters to the floor after Dead Sam's vanished. "He's home, safe and sound," Michael announces once Sam is gone before returning his attention to Dean to smile, "Your turn!" "We'll see you soon, Dean," Michael promises, and with that, The Archangel zaps Dashing El Deano into the final METAL TEETH CHOMP!
This Week's Motel Room. Our Intrepid Heroes, thoroughly spooked by their excellent adventure, are preparing to salve their tormented souls with healing amounts of tasty booze when My Sweet Baboo suddenly pops in from the past, decidedly worse for wear. "You made it!" Castiel's earthbound boyfriend exults as he and Sam quickly grab the injured angel's arms so My Sweet Baboo doesn't wobble himself all the way into a face-plant on the floor. "I did!" Castiel woozily agrees with Dean before adding, "I'm very surprised." Hee. The boys haul Castiel's soon-to-be unconscious ass over to one of the beds, where they let him pass out before returning to their cocktails. "Well, this is it," Dean sighs, pouring out the whiskey for a toast. "Team Free Will: One ex blood-junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, and Mr. Comatose over there -- it's awesome!" "It's not funny," Sam prisses. "I'm not laughing," Dean shrugs. And I'm just going to pretend the scene ends right there, where it should, rather than thirty long seconds later, during which The Ginormomope moans about his miserable, wretched, and horrible life. Next!