Having grown up with the goofy, 2-dimensional turtles, Dean was having trouble remembering the whole "teenage" part.

And the whole "actual person" part.

"Look, don't take it personally," he said, ignoring that it was, of course, too late for that. "You're probably not that guy anyway. It was kinda . . . it was for kids."

The sad part, though, was that it HAD brought Sam and Dean plenty of joy. Joy they didn't get a lot of when they were motel-hopping their way through childhood, with John always gone killing something or other.

They were outsiders wherever they went, training in the paternal art of killing things before things killed them. They'd both identified with a bunch of sewer-dwelling mutant ninjas more than the average set of children.

Not that Dean was going to admit that. Especially when this Raphael was way more of an actual person than he remembered.

"I mean, unless 'cool, but rude' is about the sum of your whole personality."

Yeah. He still remembered the theme song.

Something else grabbed his attention, though.

"Wait a minute, she's a witch? As in, sold-her-soul-to-Satan-for-magic-powers witch? We're working with one of those?"