Clayton, Louisiana, four days later. Dean has made good time hitching all the way from Maine. He gets out of a truck by the side of a country road and sets off in a purposeful way. Styx continues so we have a soundtrack by which to enjoy long, lovely shots of Dean just walking through tree-lined roads. He carries his left arm gingerly, shaking it occasionally and then hugging it to his body. "I'm a lonely soldier off to war," says the song as Dean strides into a graveyard. By the light of the moon, he counts off his paces from a small windmill and begins digging. "This better be you, you son of a bitch." By the time he's through digging, his left arm is really hurting. A shattered skeleton stares up at him from the grave. "Hold on, you bastard," he says to his arm. He rolls up his sleeve to expose a glowing, wriggling mass just beneath the skin of his forearm. The mass whispers and wriggles some more. Dean takes out a knife and cuts his arm. He chants some Latin and oozes some glowing goop onto the bones he's just dug up. The skeleton's pelvis glows red-hot, because Dean Winchester can inflame the loins of even the long-dead. Dean groans and oozes some more. Electricity flickers all over the skeleton and then there's a flash of red light. Spent, Dean collapses to the ground.
There's a moist, squelchy sound behind him. Dean turns around to see a man in a shabby black pea coat. "Well, that was fast," Dean says. "No thanks to you," says the man in a vaguely Southern accent. "What took you so long?" It sounds more like teasing than anger. Dean asks him if everything's working and the man answers by showing off his vampire teeth. He retracts the teeth and asks, "So, what now?" Dean says, "Like we talked about, I guess." The man looks a little bit sad to realize this means goodbye. Dean looks kind of sad, too. "Keep your nose clean, Benny, you hear me?" And your teeth, Benny. Keep those clean, too. They shake hands and then bust out with the big smiles. "We made it, brother. I can't believe it," Benny says. They embrace warmly. Like, really warmly. It's so warm that it ignites the season's fiery new title card.
Kermit, Texas. Night. The Impala sits in the driveway of a modest house, waiting to go on her next adventure. Inside, Sam Winchester packs a small bag while the woman in his bed pretends to sleep. He takes a deep breath and sighs. Sad piano music plays. On his way out, he lovingly pets an Australian shepherd dog at the foot of the bed and whispers, "Hey, buddy." The dog whimpers to make things even sadder. The woman opens her eyes to watch Sam's retreating back. She looks a little worried, but not entirely surprised or confused. As Sam drives off in the Impala, a vaguely man-shaped person watches from across the street.