Anyway. Now, where was I? Oh, yes: Real Crowley -- who's chosen to protect his stylish black-on-black-on-black outfit from stray gouts of shapeshifter blood with a cunning little butcher's apron, by the way -- mutters something about how Fake Crowley's "exceptional good looks" won't be buying him any mercy this evening, and hops off-camera again to wheel on a little cart filled with various implements of shapeshifter destruction. "What should we use next?" Real Crowley smiles. "The speculum, or something more exotic?" "Now!" Raoul shriekily interrupts to opine. "Would be a most propitious moment for you to mention that winning little medieval torture device you've been wanting to work into these little stories of yours for so long!" And you know what? "What!?" You're right, my scaly friend. "Hooray!" Unfortunately, someone guessed that particular Rae Dawn Chong Challenge several weeks ago. "Rats!" Now, if you don't mind? "Not in the least!" Excellent.

So, Fake Crowley claims that all he knows about Purgatory is that it's supposedly the place he's meant to go when he dies, and he protests that it's not like he can draw Real Crowley a map, or anything. Real Crowley, however, begs to differ, for his unimpeachable sources earlier informed him that Alphas like Fake Crowley, here, know everything about everything, or something like that, so Real Crowley lets his fingers dance across the cart for a moment before allowing them to curl around the haft of an especially shiny hunting knife. "I hope you appreciate just how much effort I've gone to," Real Crowley smiles, "to find something that can actually hurt you." With that, he twirls the especially shiny knife around in the air while noting the thing's been forged from iridium, as more mundane elements like silver apparently have no effect on a personage so august as the shapeshifters' Alpha, and after threatening to use this especially special blade to "chop off the bits that stick out" on Fake Crowley, Real Crowley once again asks for Purgatory's coordinates. Fake Crowley basically tells Real Crowley to go back to Hell, so Real Crowley jams the knife into Fake Crowley's shoulder. "VIOLENCE!" Raoul again. "WANTON ACTS OF UNREPENTANT SHOULDER-DESTROYING VIOLENCE AND GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" For yes, gentle reader, as Real Crowley withdraws the knife from Fake Crowley's now-destroyed shoulder, a good bit of shapeshifter grue comes with it. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Not a lot, mind you, but after the dreadfully boring run of episodes we've had to endure this season, Raoul's forced to exult over whatever scraps and shreds they see fit to grace us with. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!"