My Godly Baboo has the good grace to look ashamed at all of that, but only for a moment, and then he advances upon Death so the two might engage in a tawdry little pissing contest until Dean seethes for the two of them to "put [their] junk away" so Death can kill Castiel, now. "Fine!" Death shrugs, raising a hand above My Godly Baboo's head, but D'OH! Castiel -- never once cutting his glowering eyes away Dean's, mind you -- snaps his fingers, and that flickering length of ectoplasm immediately drops from Death's wrists. "Thank you," Death practically sings before leaning in to Castiel's ear and sardonically wondering, "Should we kick-box now?" Heh. My Godly Baboo chooses not to reply, so Death ambles over to a wingback chair, where he sits to begin snacking on the fried pickle chips Dean so thoughtfully procured Death's delectation. The Horseman makes some vague remark about "reaping someone very, very soon," but by the time he refocuses his attention on My Godly Baboo, Castiel's fluttered off to...

...Nebraska, where he materializes inside the vast storefront headquarters of one Michele Walker, a batshit Tea Party whackjob who nevertheless has a score of nubile young acolytes busily wrestling the phones for her reelection campaign. My Godly Baboo staggers forward with righteous murder in his eyes, only to be drawn up short when The Campaign Boy With Lines approaches to wonder what gives. "I'm here to see the senator," Castiel replies. "And this would be regarding...?" The Campaign Boy With Lines leads. "Abuse of power," My Godly Baboo growls, and do you see what they did there? Huh? Huh? 'Cause if you didn't, I could spend the next several unrecoverable minutes of my life explaining it to you, but you know, if you think you got it, then I'd be more than happy to keep this going. "Get what?!" Shut up, Raoul. "Hee!"