Supernatural

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Demian: B | 4 USERS: A
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A Fistful Of Hardy Boys
he thing to Sunrise, but this news does little to dampen the overall mood, and Sam brightly supposes, "So, I guess we gotta find one of our own, whatever it is." Dean silently stumbles across A Cunning Plan and leans in all wide-eyed with glee to state, "I know where we can find one -- March fifth, eighteen sixty-one, Sunrise, Wyoming! We'll Star Trek Four this bitch!" Sam and Bobby stare at him blankly, for they are not gigantic dweebs. "It's like I don't even know you guys anymore," Dean sighs before giving them a brief run-down of the movie's plot, after which he proposes, "We hop back in time, we join up with Samuel Colt, we hunt the phoenix, and then we haul the ashes back home with us!" And how are they to hop back in time, you probably are not asking yourself at this very moment because you've seen the exact same THEN! that I have this evening? With an assist from My Sweet Baboo, of course!

Dean rises to his feet to respectfully call upon his angelic boyfriend, and he is not pleased in the least when that summons is answered by some flat-haired bleach-blonde chippie named "Rachel" instead. "I understand you need some assistance?" she opens. "How can I help you?" "We kind of need to talk to the Big Kahuna," Dean impatiently snaps. "I'm here on Castiel's behalf," Rachel assures him, a brittle smile fixed firmly on her face. "Where's he?" Sam dares to ask. "Busy," is Rachel's curt reply. Dean starts in with some urgent babbling about The Mother, but Rachel freezes him with an icily condescending, "I'm sure your issue is important, but Castiel's currently commanding an army, so..." "...we get stuck with Miss Moneypenny?" Dean finishes for her. "So you need to learn your place," she corrects him, and testily reminds the trio that she and others like her are rather busy fighting a war at the moment. "We get that," Sam nods conciliatorily. "Clearly you don't," Rachel counters, getting loud as she goes on to chide, "or you wouldn't call him every time you stub your toe, you petty, entitled little pieces of..."

"That's enough," comes a blessedly familiar gravelly voice from another corner of the room, and it is of course My Sweet Baboo, who fluttered in silently at some point during Rachel's rather amusing tirade. "I told you I'd take care of this," she hisses, tossing him a wicked side-eye. "It's all right," Castiel replies, never once acknowledging her tone. "You can go." Rachel attempts to argue with him, but My Sweet Baboo is not having any of that, thank you very much, and she eventually flutters off. Once she's gone, Castiel turns to Bobby and the boys for the first time since his arrival and calmly asks, "What do you need?"

Cut to The Emporium study, where Bobby and Sam futz with various pieces of weaponry as Castiel stands guard, all of them waiting for Dean to return from some supply run he apparently decided to go on. "About your plan?" Castiel begins, more than a little hesitant to deliver his Very Bad News. "You only have twenty-four hours." "Why?" Sam quite reasonably demands. "The answer to your question," My Sweet Baboo adorably replies, all sober and serious about the whole thing, "can best be expressed as a series of partial differential equations." "Yeah," Bobby snorts, "aim lower." Heh. Basically, the further Castiel throws them into the past, the more difficult it becomes for him to retrieve them, and if he doesn't pull them back within twenty-four hours, they'll be "lost." "Then we better get you a watch!" Dean calls out as he enters The Emporium through the kitchen door. He's toting two large shopping bags from something called "Wally's Western World," and he cheerily announces, "We are going native!" "Gotta blend in," he points out, passing one of the bags to his extremely reluctant brother, who begs off by insisting he'll be just fine with what he's got on. "And look like a spaceman?" Dean sniffs. "Just because you're obsessed with all that Wild West stuff," Sam begins to protest, but Dean cuts him off with a vehement denial. "You have a fetish!" Sam swears, backing that assertion up by noting, "You can recite every Clint Eastwood movie ever made, line for line." "Even the monkey movies?" Bobby squints, vaguely disgusted. "Especially the monkey movies," Sam pffts. "His name," Dean huffily interrupts, "is Clyde." Hee. Dean argues with Sam to "at least wear the shirt," and one quick cut later...

...the boys are returning to The Emporium study from above clad in the outfits Dean bought for them. "I look stupid!" Sam pouts, and he'll be getting no argument from me on that point, 'cause that fancy little embroidered Urban Cowboy two-steppin' shirt Dean picked out for him is ridiculous. Even more ridiculous? The stripey brown poncho and silver bolo on Dean. "Is it customary to wear a blanket?" My Sweet Baboo asks. Heh. "It's a serape!" Dean proudly corrects, his enthusiasm for his costume steadfastly undiminished by the entirely filthy and entirely justified looks the others are giving him at the moment. "What's this?" he wonders, pawing through that pile of gold they swiped from Raoul's tastefully appointed makeover den three months ago. Bobby had apparently dragged the trinkets up from the basement and stuffed them into a handy carryalong because, as he rightly points out, "they don't take plastic" in 1861. Next, My Sweet Baboo informs them he'll be sending them to March 4th which, he states, should give them enough time to find both The Fucking Colt That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't and the phoenix, which of course means they'll run out of time at a crucial moment, and with that, Castiel taps the two of them on the forehead, zapping them back to...

...the nonexistent Wyoming Territory. Dean takes one look at his surroundings and exults, "Now we're talkin'!" Sam, for his part, looks both gigantic and confused.

Meanwhile, back in The Emporium, Castiel makes to flutter off, but first warns Bobby to summon him in exactly twenty-four hours. Bobby sets a timer. It is thrilling in the extreme. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" That too.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Sam sets a timer of his own as Dean proposes they hit up the saloon to pump the locals for information. Sam agrees to the plan, and promptly steps into a great big steaming pile of horseshit. Nah. Too easy.

The boys enter the town proper just in time to witness a public execution -- a public execution of Radioactive Ted from the pre-credits sequence, as it turns out. Radioactive Ted stands atop a gallows with a noose around his neck as the top-hatted Judge "Ty Mortimer" reads aloud the sentence he himself passed down. Seems "Elias Finch" -- get it? -- murdered his wife, and for that crime he will be hanged by the neck until he is dead. Finch surreptitiously fiddles with the iron manacles now cuffing his hands behind his back, but the things remain secure, so it doesn't look like there'll be any daring last-minute escapes for this guy. The sheriff at Finch's side asks the prisoner if he has any last words, and Finch obliges him by vowing, "You're gonna burn for this -- every one of you." The sheriff and his deputy exchange A Look Fraught With Significance, the reason for which will become apparent in very short order, after which the sheriff nods, and the deputy springs the trapdoor beneath Finch's feet. "Good times," Dean murmurs as they watch Elias Finch strangle to death and, after a beat, he wonders how they're going to find The Illustrious Mr. Colt. Sam hasn't the faintest idea but, eyeing the sheriff and the judge, he does allow he's got a pretty good lead on whom to ask. Before we can get to all that, though, an old coot standing in front of them turns to gift Dean with a hairy side-eye and remark, "Nice blanket." De

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