Sympathy For The Devil
Updated 2009-09-11 08:47:25
THE REVELATION of Robert Singer, which KRIPKE gave unto him, to show unto His minions things which must shortly come to pass; and sent and signified it by The CW unto His servant, Demian, who bore record of the Word of KRIPKE, and of the testimony of Robert Singer, and of all the things he saw. Blessed are they who readeth, and they that hear the words of this episode, and keep those Plot Holes which are written therein: For the fifth season is at hand.
I was in the living room on Castiel's Day, and heard before me a great Voice, as of a Television, saying, "I AM THE ROAD SO FAR!, the first episode to the most recent !" and, "What thou seest, post upon The Internets, and send it unto the Fangirls as you are contractually obliged to do!" and "Does not AC/DC kick ass?" And verily did I agree with this last, for yea, "Thunderstruck" doth both kick ass and melt faces, and KRIPKE in His Wisdom hath seen fit to incorporate it into this season's opening Previously sequence.
AND THEN from the depths of Hell rose Dashing El Deano, struggling from his grave to stand amidst a copse of fallen trees, for so great is the Power of The KRIPKE, and there was Metallicar, and Brother Touching, and Pretty Boys With Guns Shooting Monsters In The Face With Rock Salt, and I looked upon all of these things, and saw that they were good. And lo, onto the scene arrived Pete Campbell's Secretary to warn , Cassandra-like, of Lilith's Breaking Of The Seals to unleash Lucifer (even though it was Dashing El Deano who broke the First ), and Demons were smote by Princess Sparkles' Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't, and eyes were turned black, and then eyes were turned white as they were most awesomely seared out of skulls , and Darling Sammy did sup upon the Blood of the Possessed much to the consternation of everyone involved before Sucky John's Bastard Son was burned upon a Pyre , which made Sucky John's Legitimate Sons very sad indeed.
AND MY Sweet Baboo Castiel did require permission to possess the body of his Vessel, after which Our Intrepid Heroes did exorcise several acne-ridden Pubescents , after which Our Dear Boys did discover The Prophet Chuck , and verily did The Prophet reek of Booze and Desperation and Funyuns and Bad Writing. And lo, Castiel's superior the Angel Zachariah appeared unto Dashing El Deano and spake thus with inordinate amounts of glee: "It is time for a Planetary Enema !" And sore afflicted was Dashing El Deano, who wished to reserve the Enemas for the Angel Zachariah himself -- especially if those Enemas were of Drano Brand Clog Remover, and especially if those Drano Brand Clog Remover Enemas were administered via a Rusty Funnel -- for Dashing El Deano saw not the need to slaughter the entire human race just because Angels and Demons had nothing better to do with their Eternities.
AND AT the ending of THE ROAD, Darling Sammy's eyes did flip beetle black , and he did hoist his Mighty Hand Of Discontent to Lilith's visage, and Lilith did fall to the floor of St. Mary's Chapel in that place of Ilchester, dead (as Princess Embolism had earlier convinced Darling Sammy of the propriety of such action), and sore afflicted -- again, some more -- was Dashing El Deano, for My Sweet Baboo did reveal unto him that Lilith herself was the Final Seal. And after most satisfactorily gutting Princess Embolism with her own Knife, Our Intrepid Heroes did cling unto each other and weep like Little Girls , for the Blood of Lilith had crept across the floor to form a Sigil from which erupted a blinding White Light, and P. Diddy did hash-tag his dismay incessantly upon The Twitter , but the Tears of Our Heroes and the Scribblings of The Diddy were for Naught, for The Shining One did arrive upon Castiel's Day, as was oft foretold in the Holy Promos, which The KRIPKE did suffer to inflict upon His minions all Summer long .
HERE ENDETH the Revelation of Robert Singer, which KRIPKE gave unto him; and sent and signified it unto His servant, Demian, for His servant Demian hath dread Deadlines to meet, and therefore canst not keepeth this Shit up for an Entire Recap.
Rattle, Rattle Nonexistent NOW! Well, to be entirely accurate and nonjudgmental about it all, there never was any need for the NOW!, anyway, as the start of this episode picks up seamlessly from the ending of the last. Dean, completely overwhelmed by his fear of what's now rising through the floor, pretty much regresses to a far younger version of himself as he grasps desperately at his brother's sleeve and whimpers, "Sammy? Let's go!" For his part, Sam manages to fumble for Dean's sleeve in return until -- suddenly overcome by panic and dread -- he freezes in place, and he can only cry out, "He's coming!" as The Light-Bringer's horrible incandescence expands before...
...both boys snap the hell out of it and bolt for the door. Unfortunately for them, Lucifer's apparently seen fit to slam shut and bolt that door in their faces, and Our Intrepid Heroes futilely hammer their fists against the wood for a moment while Lucifer intensifies behind them, expanding slowly across the floor until the pillar's consumed all but the very edge of Lilith's blood sigil. At that moment, a high-pitched whine emerges from the thing, and as that whine rapidly amplifies in volume to overwhelm their senses, Sam and Dean crash to their knees with their hands balled into desperate fists over their ears, and the light gushes upwards to flood the screen, blotting out Our Dear Boys' faces until...
...and elaborately behorned and moustachioed cartoon Satan pops into view to ask, "What the devil is your name?" "Suh-Suh-Suh-Yosemite Saaaaaaam! " wails the despairing Warner Brothers character in question, and the camera pulls back to reveal that " [o]ne of the worst Bugs Bunny cartoons ever made " is airing on a commercial jet's cabin-wide video system, and it seems an odd choice for in-flight entertainment, given that "Devil's Feud Cake" prominently features a near-catastrophe of the avionic variety, but that's not important right now, because what is important is that the camera continues its pan along the jet's interior until it lands on...Our Intrepid Heroes, cringing in their seats? Buzzzz-nuh? "I was most perplexed myself! " shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon who, having survived both the move from Chicago to New York City and the unfortunate unpleasantness with the local constabulary that immediately followed same, has chosen this moment to offer his helpful opinion in support of yours truly's, and Raoul, I must repeat myself: I love what you've done with your ankle monitor. "Thanks!" Care to share with everyone the details of that unfortunate unpleasantness and the lengthy amounts of nonsense I had to endure just to bail you out? "I do not!" Then I shall continue with the recap. "Good idea!"
"What the hell?" Dean blurts, once he and his brother have realized where they are, and yes, Dean. Yes, exactly. I think. As Sam stammers that he hasn't a clue what the fuck just happened to them, the pilot dings onto the intercom to announce, "Folks, quick word from the flight deck: We're just passing over Ilchester, then Ellicott City on our initial descent into Baltimore." "Ilchester?" Dean repeats, wild-eyed with equal amounts of WTF? and pteromerhanophobia. "Weren't we just there?" Yes, Dean. Yes, you were, but you must excuse me for a moment, for I must jump up to the cockpit with the camera at this point to join the pilot as he continues, "If you'd like to stretch your legs, now would be a good HOLYCRAPWHATTHEHELLISTHAT?! " For yes, gentle reader, Lucifer's Pillar has at this very moment exploded into the stratosphere and beyond directly in front of the airplane, and the pilot's immediate evasive maneuvers buffet unsecured air mattresses about the cabin while the overhead oxygen masks pretty much dump themselves directly into the suddenly screaming passengers' laps. Hyperventilating El Deano expertly secures his own mask over his nose and mouth just as the jetliner plunges into a nosedive off to the side of Lucifer's Pillar, and he goggles out the window at the rapidly approaching ground as, once again, that horrible white light intensifies to blast his image from the screen and...
SPLAT! " EEEEEEEEEEEEE! " shrieks Raoul, writhing himself into a blur upon his overstuffed armchair with positively unprecedented amounts of delight, for The Kripkeeper has finally taken his Exploding Corpse idea to heart. " EEEEEEEEEEEEE! " Well, it's not precisely an exploding corpse, but, you know. The intent's there. " EEEEEEEEEEEEE! " Oy. In any event, what appears to be a tremendous gout of blood explodes outwards from the back of the screen to splatter against the front and, like, swim around for a bit with the show's title dripping through it all exactly as Raoul described. " EEEEEEEEEEEEE! " I'm going to be deaf before we hit this episode's exposition. Which might not be such a bad thing. " EEEEEEEEEEEEE! " ANY-way, "Supernatural" drips there amongst the swirling eddies of gore, underscored by an insistent heartbeat and some intense, otherworldly susurrations until the opening RAAAWWWR! sweeps across the screen to gobble everything up, and while the RAAAWWWR! isn't exactly "a dapper and debonair gentlebeast" as specified by your faithful recapper's faithful recapping companion, I do believe it's close enough. So close, in fact, that a certain imaginary gay dragon on the Internet should be expecting a pretty fat check from Warner Brothers in the very near future. " EEEEEEEEEEEEE! "
Aftermath. During the exciting new title card, Our Intrepid Heroes apparently landed safely in Baltimore, and are now cruising down some midnight backroad in a rented Ford, headed towards points currently unknown but eminently guessable. Inside, Sam flicks on the radio in time to hear a newsreader perk, " Governor O'Malley urged calm, saying it's very unlikely an abandoned convent would be a target for terrorists, either foreign or home-grown." "Change the station," Dean growls from behind the wheel, for Sam may never, ever drive a Winchestermobile, even when that Winchestermobile is nothing more than a crapped-out late model rental sedan from Avis. Sam complies with Dean's request, but unfortunately for Dean, every station up and down the dial's filled with more ominous portents of Lucifer-related doom, as news of far-flung hurricanes and earthquakes and North Korean nuclear tests and the dreaded Mexican Influenza proceed to assail Our Dear Boys' ears. Done-With-It-All El Deano, having had more than his fair share of this sort of crap over the last couple of days, shoots A Look at Apologetically Exasperated Sammy, so Sam snaps the radio off, and the two muddle through recent events for a very long time until they decide to motor on over to Kripke's Hollow to find out what became of Castiel and Chuck during the end of last season's finale. Well, Sam would try to muddle through recent events for a very long time, I'm sure, starting with his own terribly inopportune slaughtering of Lilith, but Dean's most certainly not in the mood for any tear-streaked bouts of self-recrimination at this point in the game, and so, after briefly wondering who yanked them up into the sky from the convent during the pre-credits sequence, The Stumpy Little Bow-Legged Lamb Of God stomps down on the gas pedal, activating his Jesus Wormhole and whisking Our Intrepid Heroes straight over to...
...The Tragic Bachelor Pad Of Lousy Yet Remarkably Accurate Writing, and the place is a dump . Well, it's always been a dump, but after Castiel's late run-in with The Prophet's Archangel, it's even moreso. The camera pans down from the mangled venetians to rake across various shattered appliances now littering the kitchen linoleum, each and every one of them coated with... " GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE! " Yep, the toaster's positively crimson with the stuff, and someone's arterial spray apparently made it all the way across the room to soil Chuck's carefully tended copies of the Supernatural book series. The Stumpy Little Bow-Legged Lamb Of God and The Ginormotron Antichrist tippy-toe through the wreckage for a bit until...a mysterious creaking noise creeps up on them from behind! DUN! Sam turns to warily approach the apparent source of the noise, and just as he crosses the threshold from kitchen to living room... "VIOLENCE!" shrieks Raoul with delight, for indeed, The Prophet Chuck has sneaked up on The Ginormotron Antichrist and whapped him upside the head with the business end of a toilet plunger. Hee. "Ow!" Sam yelps, hopping back a few feet and rubbing his freshly bruised freakish Cro-Magnon forehead as Dean flips a far too nonchalant "Hello" in Chuck's direction. The grubby author of crappy paranormal pulp fiction, of course, is both stoked and surprised to see them alive -- stoked because, well, look at them , and surprised because his most recent premonition involved a vision of Sam going "full-on Vader" down in the chapel of St. Mary's, with a body temperature of 150 degrees and a heart rate approaching 200. "Your eyes were black!" Chuck bleats for emphasis, and as this is news to no one except Dean (who offers a mild eyebrow pop at the revelation, by the by), I'll be skipping ahead to the bit I care most about. "Where's [my angelic boyfriend]?" Dean grunts. "He's dead," Chuck reluctantly admits. "The Archangel smote the crap out of him." Dean, stricken, desperately wonders, "You sure? Maybe he just vanished into the light, or something!" Chuck shakes his head. "He, like, exploded ," Chuck elaborates, gesturing with the plunger to illustrate his point. "Like a water balloon of chunky soup," he adds, deploying perhaps the first truly effective simile of his entire authorial career, and wait for it: " WHY were we not witness to THAT?! " howls Raoul, understandably feeling terribly thwarted at the moment, and Raoul, darling, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. We were not witness to that because this show has no budget for special effects . "Oh, poop! " Raoul pouts, sinking into the depths of his overstuffed armchair in a righteous snit. Cheer up, friend of friends -- they've made sure to toss you a tiny little bone in a few seconds. "Really!?" Really. "Hooray!"
Yep, as Sam breathes heavily through his flared nostrils at this particularly vivid bit of Chuck's news, he notes the presence of a certain Raoul-pleasing foreign object in Chuck's hair. Chuck sweeps his filthy fingers through his matted mop in the general area indicated by Our Intrepid Hero and, grimacing, pulls them away from his head to examine the... " GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE! " Oh, and it's quite a pleasantly gruesome bit of gore at that, my impressively fanged companion. "Indeed!" "Is that a molar? " Chuck gags, twirling the bloody tooth around in his hand. "Do I have a molar in my hair? " Chuck freaks, pushing the thing towards Dean's prissily wrinkled nose. Hee! "This has been a really stressful day," Chuck sighs, flailing around in misery while Dean mutters dark imprecations under his breath, but it's not long before a burst of angelic susurration skitters around in Chuck's brain, leading The Prophet to groan, "Oh, crap! " And barely has the groan escaped The Prophet's lips when Zachariah's ridiculously jovial, "Thought I'd find you here!" hits the soundtrack from somewhere just off camera, and Dean spins around to find his heavenly nemesis loitering near the kitchen sink, flanked by two meatheaded -- yet angelic! -- goons in ill-fitting Secret Service suits. "Playtime's over, Dean!" Zachariah continues, that disconcertingly broad smile of his plastered across his smarmy face. "Time to come with us!" The Stumpy Little Bow-Legged Lamb Of God shoots fiery death from his eyes in Zachariah's general direction while standing his ground and glowering, "You just keep your distance, asshat ." Heh. Also: Mrow. I think I've missed the tiny little ball of righteous, pissed-off, take-charge animosity Dashing El Deano's so frequently been in what seems like the distant past. "You are not alone!" Raoul concurs agreeably. "That charming little fellow is quite fetching when he's aroused , wouldn't you agree?!" Raoul, you know I love you more than my luggage, but you're being far too saucy and risqué for an episode this early in the season. "WHAT!?" Raoul shrieks, his apparent dignity apparently affronted. " ME?! " Oh, knock it off with the innocent crap. You know what you just said. "Hee!"
In any event, an argument ensues, and as they're basically reiterating a couple of nasty, spite-filled bitchfests we already saw last season, let's cut to the chase, shall we? "Let's!" Excellent. Long story short, the two snipe at each other until Zachariah finally proposes they let bygones be bygones as, after all, "The Apocalypse is now," and they'd best dispatch Lucifer before the fallen angel finds his Vessel. Dean's response to Zachariah's proffered truce? "You listen to me, you two-faced douche -- after what you did, I don't want jack squat from you!" And with that, Our Most Intrepid Hero, Indeed -- who's left hand has been bleeding all this time, don't you know -- spins around to yank open a hidden sliding door, upon which he'd oh-so-craftily smeared Anna's Angel-B-Gon sigil at some point after his arrival from Baltimore. Oh, Dean. Oh, clever, clever Dean . Zachariah howls, "NO!" but it's of course too late, and the instant Crafty El Deano slams his bloodstained paw against the thing, Zachariah and his meatheaded backup dancers explode backwards in a gout of terrible white light. Once the angelic screaming is done, The Prophet darts his eyes from one Winchester to the other before announcing glumly, "This sucks ass." "Well!" Raoul opines. "It certainly hasn't been the most enthralling season premiere this delightful little Thursday evening divertissement 's ever offered, you adorable little hairy person, but I wouldn't go that far!" Oh, Raoul. "Yes!?" Such a card you are. "Hee!"
Somewhere else, The Ginormotron Antichrist sidles past a canoodling twosome of the heterosexual variety before darting into this week's decrepit motoring lodge, the "Regent Inn Hotel." He quickly cuts up to their room with the camera, and bounds through the door to find Disgusted El Deano loading slug after slug into the latter's trusty pearl-handled automatic so he might then blast that hideous fucking wallpaper clear off the drywall. "It's appalling! " Raoul gasps, clutching at his nonexistent three-strand while directing a horrified yet elegantly honed claw towards the television set. " Where did they find that?! " Relax, friend of friends. It's probably just another sign of The Apocalypse. " HATEFUL! " I'm so glad we agree. "Me too! Please continue!" As you wish. So, in any event, barely has Disgusted El Deano had a chance to aim his weapon at the offending decor -- and don't you dare giggle at that, Raoul -- when Sam bursts through the door to flip a couple of angel- and demon-blocking hex bags into his brother's face. "I made them all by myself!" Six-Year-Old Sammy basically announces with a chipper and bright smile on his face, but Dean -- perhaps finally exacting revenge for Sam's first-season pissing on that cute little EMF Walkman Dean knocked together -- simply snaps, "How?" so Six-Year-Old Sammy's face falls, and he mumbles something about Princess Embolism explaining the finer points of hex bags to him in between bouts of blood sucking and corpse fucking, and poor Sam looks like he's about to cry, expecting as he is a mighty smackdown from his brother over the whole Princess Embolism sitch, but Dean instead quietly wonders whatever happened to Sam's ridiculous addiction issue, anyway, and Sam's forced to reveal that The Kripkeeper decided to pull some ludicrous non-explanation out of his almighty ass like so: "It's like whoever put me on that plane cleaned me right up." " That's awfully convenient, n'est-ce pas!? " "Convenient" is probably the most polite term I could use for it, my scaly friend. " Naughty! Hee!"
Anyway, with his ridiculous addiction issue thus dispensed with, Sam next attempts to apologize for unleashing his Mighty Hands Of Discontent back in Ilchester, but The Dean Of Denial loudly announces he doesn't have time for any of that touchy-feely apologetic crap, bitch, and shouts Sam down in favor of analyzing their current deeply dire predicament as if it were any other hunt. "We just gotta find the devil!" Sam sends his eyebrows up to the ceiling, all, "Are you fucking crazy? " but Determined El Deano is determined.
Meanwhile, down in Pike Creek, Delaware , Mark Pellegrino lumbers down the nighttime sidewalk towards his ominous- and expensive-looking Craftsman-style home and hauls himself up the front steps to the porch just as... an ill wind sets his front gate to squeaking! DUN! Mark Pellegrino furrows his mighty Neanderthal brow to squint at the offending bit of fencing, but the squeaky gate defiantly bangs and bangs and Bangs and BANGS and until it BANGS! its damn fool self right into the very first METAL TEETH CHOMP! of the season, and I might be jumping the gun considerably here, but I'm thinking that things perhaps maybe might possibly not be looking as good for Mark Pellegrino as he'd like them to be, you know? "I do!" Fabulous.
Goddammit. Did I say that was the first METAL TEETH CHOMP! of the season? "You did!" Well, I was wrong, because it was actually the first METAL TEETH CHOMP! fake-out of the season, as we roll from the blackout directly into the next scene, in which a slumbering Mark Pellegrino rolls around uncomfortably beneath his mangy chenille bedspread, eventually kicking the nasty thing off his body only to find himself covered in... " GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE! " Oh, this is lovely . Eeeeeeeeeeeee! He could, like, doggy-paddle around his queen-size in that mess. EEEEEEEEEEEEE! Unfortunately, it's just a booze-induced Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder hallucination. "Rats!" Or is it? "Eeep! You mean?! Could it be!? Is it possibly?!" Spit it out, Raoul. "SATAN!?" You dizzy little lizard. "What?!" Mark Pellegrino was hired last spring to play Lucifer this season -- where the hell have you been? "...!" Oh, that's right. "...!!!!" Jail . "SILENCE! I WILL HAVE SILENCE IMMEDIATELY!" Becalm yourself, my impressively fanged companion, because I'm certainly not going to get into any of that now. "You hadn't better dare! " Calm , because first I have to deal with Mark Pellegrino collapsing back into the bed, where he flops onto his side to find... his bloody dead wife staring him in the eye! DUN! "Eeek!" See? Surprising, wasn't it? "It was indeed! I absolutely might have a fit! " Just for the hell of it, I'll assume you're not being sarcastic and suggest you go fix yourself a flagon, so I can keep on with the scene. "Thanks! And I shall! "
So, yeah: Mark Pellegrino, who's playing Lucifer this season, flops onto his side, only to discover his dead wife lying there in the bed next to him, and while it might possibly have genuinely set Raoul affright for whatever reason, I'm mostly sitting around waiting for them to get to the goddamned point already. "It's you, Nick," The Corpse Bride coos, thereby gifting Mark Pellegrino with the clever little character name he'll possess for all of the next 20 minutes before she continues, "You're chosen! " WE KNOW. KEEP IT MOVING! Oh, look -- they're listening to me. The Corpse Bride disappears just as quickly as she'd arrived, and Old Nick gasps and pants and wipes at his disbelieving eyes until he's finally -- finally -- sucked down into the actual first METAL TEETH CHOMP! of the season. Thank God.
Oh, this is awesome. Back from the break, the camera fades up on a slow pan across a Supernatural fangirl's bedroom walls, and she's got a WINCHESTER street sign along with oversized prints of the "Route 666" and "Benders" cover art, but that's not important right now, because what is important right now is that this sad, demented social outcast is composing the latest installment of her epic multi-chapter Winchester Brothers pornography fan fiction as I type this, and if you've never had the great misfortune to scan through any of that crap on LiveJournal, I can assure you that the lines she's rattling out right now are dead-on. "'And then Sam caressed Dean's clavicle,'" the annoying straight woman who writes gay porn about fictional straight men for other annoying straight women who write gay porn about fictional straight men on the Internet narrates as she types. "'"This is wrong!" said Dean. "Then I don't wanna be right! " replied Sam in a husky voice,'" and much as I'm enjoying this slam against patently insane online porn freaks , it really is quite fortunate when The Prophet Chuck interrupts the proceedings with an urgent Skype directed towards his "number one fan," because if I had to hear about the surprising joys of Dean's self-lubricating anus , I would have thrown up. "WHAT?!" Raoul! I didn't hear you toddle back from your den. " WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!? " You don't want to know. "Okay!" Hmm! Surprisingly easy! "You're welcome! [ Slurp! ]"
In any event, Chuck Skypes the patently offensive and insane Internet pornography addict, and the patently offensive and insane Internet pornography addict, naturally, freaks . "Ohmigod! You got my letters! And my marzipan! " HA! The patently offensive and insane Internet pornography addict next helpfully identifies herself as "SamLicker81," the "webmistress" of MoreThanBrothers.net, which unfortunately kicks back an "Address Not Found" error, even though Warner Brothers bought the domain back in June. Long story short, Chuck -- under his nom de crap "Carver Edlund," obviously -- spills that he's being "watched," so he needs his number one fan to complete a dangerous mission for him. The Patently Offensive And Insane Internet Pornography Addict practically piddles her panties until Chuck adds that she's to get a message to Sam and Dean. "Look, Mr. Edlund," she eyerolls, "yes, I'm a fan , but I really don't appreciate being mocked ." Then stop writing that garbage, you emotionally retarded moron. As expected, The Patently Offensive And Insane Internet Pornography Addict ignores my sound advice completely in favor of ranting, "I know that Supernatural 's just a book, okay? And I know the difference between fantasy and reality!" Chuck, who'd been flopping around in elaborate and extremely amusing displays of increasing irritation during The Emotionally Retarded Moron's tirade, finally cuts her off with a sharp, "Becky, it's all real!" "I KNEW IT!" The Emotionally Retarded Moron exults, and because she has thus so successfully referenced Galaxy Quest -- which is an amusing movie for many reasons, none of them having to do with Tim Allen -- I'll drop the insulting nicknames for her for the rest of the recap, and proceed to call her "Becky." "Isn't that worse?!" Cram it, Raoul. "Hee!"
Next thing we know, Becky's a-knock-knock-knocking on this week's motel room's door, and while Dean quickly readies his trusty pearl-handled automatic, Sam bends down, and down, and down and down and down and down and down and down some more to peer through the peephole before opening the door. Becky swoons at the sight of him. "You okay?" Sam wonders. "Is it really you?" Becky gasps, and with that, she crosses the threshold to place a delicate hand upon his remarkably healthy chest. "You're so firm! " she squeals. "That's what Dean said!" Raoul! "[ Titter! ]" ANY-way, Sam's all, "Do I know you?" and Becky's all, "No, but I know you! You're Sam Winchester! " "And you're...!" she continues, turning to Dean before someone yanks the needle off her album. "...not what I pictured," Becky finishes, much to Dashing El Deano's ducky-lipped dismay. Wah. Wah. Waaaaaaaaaaaah! In any event, and long story short now that the amusing part's past, Becky invites herself in and eventually gets to the point: Chuck's had a vision that reads, "The Michael Sword is on Earth -- the angels lost it" and it now resides "in a castle on a hill made of 42 dogs." Of course, this makes no sense whatsoever to anyone, but that doesn't matter, because Becky has entirely expected and entirely entertaining Boundary Issues, and has placed her delicate hand once more against Darling Sammy's mighty chest. "Uh, Becky?" Sam politely begins. "Can you quit touching me?" "No." Atta girl.
And we have Metallicar! Wave hello to the Impala, kids. We also have Bobby, who drove the car from... hell if I can remember now, but whatever. The point is, Bobby's finally arrived at the boys' current coordinates, and much manly backslapping ensues until Bobby at long last gets down to business, slamming a massive tome onto this week's motel room's desk and flipping it open to various Renaissance and Baroque depictions of St. Michael, including this one , which Dean thinks looks like Cate Blanchett, and no, Dean: SWINTON . Bobby suggests they set to researching immediately, because none of these doofuses apparently learned anything about St. Michael in Sunday school, but Darling Sammy has other plans -- other plans that involve... is it? Do I see? Yes! It's the triumphant return of The Super-Special Puppy-Dog Eyes Of Pleading And Despair, which Darling Sammy unleashes in Bobby's direction to prepare the way for what I'm certain is a heartfelt and touching apology for deploying his Mighty Hands Of Discontent upon Lilith's demonically deceptive ass, but I stopped paying attention as soon as The Super-Special Puppy-Dog Eyes appeared because I, like Dean, have no time for this touchy-feely teary-eyed self-recrimination crap. Bitch. Long story short, Sam assumes complete responsibility for unleashing Lucifer upon the Earth -- even though he had a major assist from Dean who, as I believe I noted before, broke the first goddamned seal his own goddamned self -- and Bobby rips Sam a new one, because Bobby is secretly possessed. Ooops! Spoiler! By the way, the curtains adorning this week's motel room are even worse than the wallpaper -- if that's in any way possible without ripping open a hole in the entire space-time continuum and destroying us all -- so it's really a good thing that Secretly Possessed Bobby boots Woebegone And Forlorn Sam out of the room to go read some lore at the local Catholic church at this point, because Darling Sammy is one of my favoritest people on the TV, and I wouldn't want those screaming atrocities striking him blind.
Now, where the hell was I? "Babbling?!" Zip it, Raoul. "Hee! [ Slurp! ]" Oh, yes: After Still-Darling Yet Woebegone And Forlorn Sammy skulks off all by his lonesome, and after a time-lapse cross-fade of motel room research that ensures the audience notes the presence of The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't, Secretly Possessed Bobby starts yammering something tedious about Sucky John in a futile attempt to set brother against brother, again , some more, but Secretly Possessed Bobby's natterings instead trip a switch in Dean's brain, so Our Intrepid Hero leaps across the room to root through one of his bottomless duffels until he hauls out a Ziploc baggie filled with the last of his worthless bastard of a so-called father's earthly possessions. He rips the seal open and quickly locates a relevant business card for "Castle Storage" at "42 Rover Hill" somewhere in upstate New York. Get it? The castle on the hill of 42 dogs? Dean's super-stoked over his very own mad reasoning skillz and would, I'm sure, hit the road immediately were it not for Secretly Possessed Bobby hitting him first! "VIOLENCE!" howls Raoul, writhing about upon his overstuffed armchair with glee, all the while ensuring one perfectly honed paw remains steady in the air so as not to lose a drop from his flagon. "WANTON ACTS OF UNREPENTANT VIOLENCE AND GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE! " For yes, gentle reader, Openly Possessed Bobby beats Dashing El Deano like Dashing El Deano owes him money, and after kicking Dean's stumpy little bow-legged ass around the room three or four times, Openly Possessed Bobby plants one last boot into Dean's chest to topple Our Intrepid Hero right over into the METAL TEETH CHOMP!
Hateful Motel Room Of Eye-Searing Decor And Dean Beating. Aftermath. As Openly Possessed Bobby drags momentarily stupefied Dean to the latter's feet, Rachel Miner , whom I have no recollection of seeing in anything ever, but who apparently dyed her hair black for this role, swans into the room with a beefy-looking henchdemon and immediately starts in with the taunting. "I always knew you were a big, dumb, slow, dim pain in the ass, Dean," she begins, thereby earning herself the eternal enmity of rabid Deangirls everywhere, "but I never dreamt you were so V.I.P.!" Rachel Miner crosses to fondle The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't and continues, "I mean, you're gonna ice the devil? You? " Having by now lifted The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't from the telephone table, she crosses over to Our Dear Boy to draw its blade against his cheek as she finishes, "I'd-a known that, I would've ripped your pretty, pretty face off ages ago!" "Ruby!" Dean accuses, still struggling to pull himself together after Openly Possessed Bobby's impressive smackdown. "Guess again," Rachel Miner teases. "Go back further." " Meg? " Dean realizes with much furrowing of his preternaturally photogenic brow. "Hi!" she giggles by way of confirmation, and really, Kripke? Meg? After two and a half years? I'll reserve judgment until after I've seen where Our Dark And Evil Overlord is going with this one, but I gotta admit now: It's making me tense. "And not in a good way, either! " Raoul shriekily agrees, and as ever, thanks for getting my back, friend of friends. "Don't mention it!"
In any event, Meg waxes rhapsodic regarding these new "days of miracle and wonder," noting that since their father has risen, demons "are dreaming for the first time" since they were human. "We really owe your brother a fruit basket!" Meg sings, and at the risk of sounding like I'm repeating myself: Meg, honey, YOU OWE BOTH OF THEM A FRUIT BASKET BECAUSE DEAN BROKE THE FIRST SEAL . GOD! ANY -way, Meg threatens Dean's life before leaning in and planting a big ol' sloppy wet one on The Ducky Lips. "What is that?" Dean snarks, running his tongue around his mouth. "Peanut butter?" Heh. In any event, and long story short, Meg finally reminds Dean that Actual Bobby's still swimming around somewhere deep inside Openly Possessed Bobby's body, and she'd like nothing more than for Actual Bobby to suffer while his openly possessed self guts Dashing El Deano like a trout. To that end, she presses the haft of The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't into Openly Possessed Bobby's palm, and that's a very bad move on your part, Meg darling, because Actual Bobby is badass in ways you can't begin to fathom, and to prove that, Actual Bobby quite badassedly regains possession of his physical form from the demon within and then, as if that weren't badass enough, even more badassedly jams The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't into his own rather capacious gut! "Oh, I am torn! " wails Raoul, clasping an exquisitely manicured paw against his heaving chest, and why is that, Raoul? "Well! As you know, I've always wondered exactly how much viscera one as rotund as that delightfully hirsute Bobby person could contain!" We'll go with that. And? "But...! But...! I don't want him to die! " Oh, Raoul. "[ Wail! ]" You old softie -- you have nothing to worry about! "[ Sniff! ] Really!?" Really. " WHY?! " Because Bobby's capacious gut is so vast, it easily absorbed The Knife's blade, and with no major damage to any vital organs! "For true!? " For true. "So I might shriek it?!" If you wish. "Hooray! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE! " Feel better? "Much!" Excellent.
So, in any event, Badass Bobby guts himself, thereby allowing Dashing El Deano to leap into action, and he smacks around the demonically enhanced in the room by himself for a bit until -- in a cleansing burst of synchronicity -- Still-Darling Yet Woebegone And Forlorn Sammy skulks back into the room at this very moment. Unfortunately for Dashing El Deano, Darling Sammy suh- huuuuuucks even more at the hand-to-hand after his supernatural plane crash detox, a fact which Meg quickly takes to her advantage when she nails his heretofore remarkably healthy jaw with a telephone uppercut! "DEATH!" roars Raoul, working himself into a downright frenzy of outrage. "DEATH TO SHE WHO WOULD INJURE THE JAW!" I think Raoul's turned into a Samgirl. "I beg your pardon , I'm sure! " shrieks Raoul, offended. "But I simply cannot condone any sort of violence that would injure either dear boy's face! " Ah. An entirely justified response. "Thanks!"
Where was I? Oh, yeah: Sam for whatever reason immediately realizes his telephone girl is actually Meg, which seems a little strange, but we'll go with it for now, mainly because I want this scene over with already. Before the two can taunt at each other properly, however, Dean retrieves The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't from Bobby's copious gut and jams the blade into Meg's henchdemon, who expires quite nicely right there on the floor, thank you very much. Meg, realizing she's outnumbered, backs herself into the room's kitchenette before throwing her host's head back and roaring, expelling a geyser of bitterly black demonic foulness that zips away through the room's ducts, leaving her now thoroughly depossessed hostess to drop to the floor, unconscious. Got all that? "I did!" Good. Next!
Pike Creek, and oh, crap. Totally forgot about this scene, and while it's creepily atmospheric and therefore terribly effective in that particular way this show does especially well (most notably with regard to the phantom baby monitor and the bassinet leaking imaginary blood), and while Mark Pellegrino's certainly doing a fine enough job as The Grieving Husband And Father Who's Slowly Losing His Marbles, I've never seen this Nick person before in my life, and given the fact that Lucifer's not likely to relinquish a Vessel once he's assumed control of it, I'm never going to see this Nick person again, so whatever. Next!
St. Random's Emergent Care Professional Clinic, Beats The Crap Out Of Me, Kansaforniana, U.S.A. The boys haul a grievously wounded but still-alive Bobby through the ER doors, dump him onto a gurney, and bolt for The Jesus Wormhole on their way to upstate New York.
Upstate New York, eight and a half seconds later. Sam and Dean break into Sucky John's storage unit and warily tiptoe past a posse of dead demonic types sprawled in various novel and intriguing positions on the floor until Zachariah And The Meatheads pop up from out of nowhere to harmonize their way through a few bars of "We See You Told The Demons Where The Sword Is." "I know that one!" Quiet, Raoul. "Hee! [ Slurp! ]" Dean's response to this heavenly incursion into his worthless bastard of a so-called father's storage unit? "Oh, thank God! The angels are here!" HA! And the point of this scene -- interrupted as it is midway through by an unfortunately timed METAL TEETH CHOMP! -- was... what , exactly? Oh, yes: The Michael Sword? Is Dean. Yep, everyone's favorite "simpering wad of insecurity and self loathing" (Zachariah's words, not mine) is actually also -- in addition to the various other titles and honors he's accumulated over the years -- The Archangel's Vessel. Don't understand it? "I do not!" Well, neither do I, really, so I guess we're all going to have to wait and see what sort of explanation Kripke pulls out of his ass for this one before the end of the season. In any event, and needless to say, Dashing El Deano's less than thrilled with this particular bit of revelation. "Life as an angel condom ?" he spits, and hee! Numerous points to Dashing El Deano for that most welcome addition to the Supernatural lexicon. "I think I'll pass, thanks! " Dean seethes, fully aware that angels require their Vessels' freely given consent before taking up residence, so Zachariah calmly points an index finger at Darling Sammy and... breaks both of his heretofore remarkably healthy legs! "DEATH!" howls Raoul, so overexciting himself that his flagon comes dangerously close to sloshing all over the new carpeting. "DEATH TO HE WHO WOULD HARM THE REMARKABLY HEALTHY LEGS!" You know, I'm confused again, Raoul -- I thought you'd narrowed your Winchester-related allegiance down to the-- "DEATH! DEATH! DEATH!" Ooo-kay. We'll be leaving the boozy dragon alone for a little while. "Hee! [ Slurp! ]"
So, where was I? Oh, yes: Darling Sammy's down there writhing on the floor in unimaginable pain due to his broken legs while Defiant El Deano and Zachariah spit and speechify at each other for about 3,000 years, and the upshot of it all is that Dean -- great big goddamned hero that he's become -- refuses to sacrifice a single human life to Heaven and Hell's utterly pointless war, no matter the consequences to him and his own, so Zachariah gives Dean end-stage stomach cancer. Ooops. And on top of that, Zachariah threatens to upgrade Bobby's already desperate Knife-related injuries to permanent paralysis should Dean continue to refuse to cooperate, and I'm not sure, but I'm getting the sense here that Zachariah doesn't quite understand the concept of "freely given consent." No matter, for Dean still refuses to cave, even after Zachariah magically removes Sam's lungs , so it's quite fortunate for Our Intrepid Heroes indeed when, in a flash of brilliant white light, My Sweet Baboo materializes at the far end of the storage unit to spork one of The Meatheads with Uriel's special angel-smiting scimitar. Raoul and I would, I'm sure, cheer Castiel's triumphant return to the small screen had we not been convinced by Misha Collins's presence in the opening credits scroll that Castiel never really went away, errant molars in matted prophet hair notwithstanding. Right, Raoul? "Right! [ Slurp! ]" Fantastic.
In any case, and long story short, My New And Improved Sweet Baboo next stomps the remaining Meathead into the damn concrete before running him through with Uriel's special angel-smiting scimitar as well, and -- to paraphrase the lovely and talented sallybreeze , who was the first to note this fact so succinctly on the forum boards -- we haven't seen Castiel kick this much ass since he was a little girl. "How are you still alive?" Zachariah gapes, once the Meathead smiting is done. "Good question," Castiel gruffly allows, before following it up with one of his own. "How did these two end up on that airplane?" "The angels didn't do it," Castiel craftily reminds him. "I think we both know the answer, don't we?" "Well, I don't!" pouts Raoul. "Who did it!? WHO?! " Patience, Raoul, and all will be revealed. " WHEN!? " In the season finale. "Rats!" My Newly Empowered Sweet Baboo, meanwhile, quite rationally ignores the imaginary gay dragon on the Internet in favor of coldly ordering Zachariah to "put these boys back together and go." Zachariah, thoroughly unnerved by this turn of events, immediately complies. Thus left alone with his human boyfriend and that boyfriend's genetic freak of an oversized younger brother, Castiel warns that Our Intrepid Heroes must be far more careful in the future, as "Lucifer is circling his Vessel," and once he finds a way in to Boring Old Nick, piddling little voodoo tricks like Sam's flimsy hex bags won't be of much use in cloaking Our Dear Boys' whereabouts. With that in mind, Castiel approaches the two and places his hands upon their chests, and after a couple searing bursts of pain, Sam and Dean find themselves freshly protected by something called "The Enochian Sigil," which will hide them "from every angel in creation," including (natch) Lucifer. "What, you just brand us with it?" Dean splutters, still clutching at his chest. "No," Castiel calmly replies, "I carved it into your ribs." "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" This pleases you, Raoul? " EEEEEEEEEEEEE! " I'm going to have to start a list of which Winchester body parts you'll allow to be touched.
Wait a minute. Forget I said that. " Dirty! "
ANY-way, Darling Sammy thinks to ask, "Were you really dead?" Castiel nods. "Then how are you back?" My Sweet Baboo's boyfriend wonders. Without a further word, Castiel flutters away. Mysterious!
Dullaware. Trust me, I hate referring to this scene that way, especially because Bellamy Young does a fantastic job as Lucifer in the guise of Nick's dead wife, Sarah, but as I said several paragraphs ago: I've never seen this Nick person before in my life, and given the fact that Lucifer's not likely to relinquish a Vessel once he's assumed control of it, I'm never going to see this Nick person again, so whatever -- whatever to Nick's incipient alcoholism, brought on by the brutal double murder of his wife and infant son by assailants unknown (though, you know, if I felt like it, I could congratulate Eric Kripke for so forthrightly exploring what apparently are his deepest fears in order to write this script, but I don't, so I won't); whatever to Nick's subsequent animosity towards God, whom he now sees as an indifferent monster given what happened to his family; and whatever to Lucifer's sweetly soothing methods for bending Nick to his will (despite their striking contrast to the blunt-force trauma Zachariah chose to employ with regard to Dean), because while this version of Lucifer claims his only sin was to love God "too much," and while this version of Lucifer further claims he always, without fail, tells the truth, it's far too early in this storyline to know what to believe and what to discard, so please would you all get to the point already? Oh, and look at that: While I was typing this out, Nick granted his consent. Next!
Our Lady Of The Anonymous Medical Centers, Who Gives A Rat's Ass, Idarissippi, U.S.A. Long story short, Bobby is indeed paralyzed, but he's in extreme denial about his medical condition at the moment, so we'll just wait for that to play out over the course of the season as well. In other news, Dean's managed to stumble across a cunning plan: He and Sam will force the various otherworldly combatants involved in the current Apocalypse right off the goddamned planet if they have to -- and by any means necessary, up to and including slaughtering St. Michael himself -- but they will not allow Zachariah and Lucifer's battle to move forward as planned. Yeah, you let me know how all that works out for you, hon. Bobby, bless him, thinks Dean's as much of a whackjob as I do. "And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?" "I got no idea," Dean admits, "but what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out." Again: You call me when the shuttle lands, sweetpea. And just as Sam and Dean are about to leave the room, Bobby calls Sam back to apologize for all of the horrible things he said when he was possessed, because he didn't mean any of them, because it wasn't really him saying them, and WE KNEW THAT ALREADY, and MOVING ON!
Out in the parking lot, Sam -- trying to be helpful, don't you know -- suggests they chase down The Fucking Colt That Can Kill Anything Except When It Totally Can't, as said Fucking Colt might be useful in the fight against Lucifer, but Dean -- God love him -- just rolls his eyes and tells Sam to cram a sock in it. All of that manly speechifying we just witnessed in Bobby's hospital room? Empty bravado on Dean's part, purely for Bobby's benefit. Dean knows -- and Sam would know this too, if he just resigned himself to the facts -- that Our Intrepid Heroes haven't "a snowball's chance" against the variously arrayed armies of Heaven and Hell, and from there, the conversation devolves into the same sort of chick-flicky, tail-of-the-episode heart-to-hearts these endlessly prattling tear jockeys have indulged in at least 60 times before on this show, and as they're certain to repeat this distressing behavior again and again and again over the course of the fifth season, you'll forgive me if I seem less than enthused about transcribing this particular variation's dialogue word for word, and you'll also forgive me for basically skipping to the end already. Long story short, Dean's not so much pissed that Sam offed Lilith and started The Apocalypse (though, you know: Irritating!) but rather, he's furious that Sam "chose a demon over [his] own brother," and are we done yet? "I certainly hope so!" Oh, excellent. It's over.
Next week: Ellen! Jo! Rufus! "Who?!" Exactly, my scaly friend. See you all next week! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Discuss this episode in our forums , then see who vlogger Sean Crespo thinks the brothers should be battling in No Prior Knowledge!
Demian hates your fan fiction, and really thinks you should stop wasting your time on that crap. Raoul , quite frankly, is mortally appalled at that attitude, as artistic expression of any sort should be nurtured and celebrated, for we are all unique, like tiny little snowflakes! You may reach the former at demian_twop@yahoo.com. The latter is an imaginary gay dragon currently under house arrest on the Internet.