The season premiere picks up right where last season's finale left off, and in an instant, it's like the last four months of my life never happened. This is not a good thing.
My New And Improved Baboo -- brimming, as you'll no doubt recall, with all the power the souls of Purgatory had to offer -- speechifies at length at Our Imperiled Heroes and their redneck pet Bobby for a very long period of time, chiding them for their collective lack of faith in Himself, or something, but he eventually suffers them to live and flutters off to pick up where the real God left off however many eons ago. And for a while, Castiel's wacky hijinks are immensely gratifying, indeed, as he proceeds to take out every last hypocritical Christianist asshole in the country before turning his deadly attentions on the likes of The Klan, Tony Robbins, Michelle Bachmann, and most of the aforementioned's fawning acolytes. Alas, the awesomeness cannot continue forever, for those roiling souls clawing around deep within My Sweet Baboo's guts soon start gnawing through the errant angel's Vessel, and it quickly becomes clear that Castiel must rid himself of Purgatory's millions sooner rather than later.
Fortunately, Sam and Dean have been investigating possible solutions, natch, and with the still-kicking Crowley's help, they manage to bind Capital-D Death in an effort to force the Horseman to slaughter My Sweet Baboo. Quite naturally, Death rather haughtily refuses, though he does arrange for another lunar eclipse, thereby allowing Our Dear Boys to pry open yet another portal into Purgatory, so that was nice of him, wasn't it? And in the end, the boys plus Bobby somehow manage to help Castiel send all those souls back where they belong. Well, except for the souls of The Leviathans, who lagged behind like those lazy Leviathans tend to do, and before you can say "Aspidochelone," The Leviathans have seized control of My Sweet Baboo's body, and several of our peppy protagonists find themselves flipping ass over end into this evening's final blackout. DUN!
Oh, I almost forgot: Sam might be going crazy. You know, because of that Wall thing. Or he might actually be entirely sane, and this whole season's going to end up being some sort of great big walloping mindfuck of a Satan-engineered fakeout, like the entire runs of St. Elsewhere or Newhart. Will you stick around to find out? Well? Will you?
Get the scoop on what to expect in season 7.
Rattle, Rattle BORING NEW TITLE CARDS! Yes, it's yet another new season for this aging wreck of a show and, as always, that new season brings with it a new set of THEN!s and NOW!s and THE ROAD SO FAR!s and such, and wow. Even the title-card guys have thrown in the towel. The style they've settled upon this year basically amounts to little more than a set of spray-painted black-and-white stencils in the familiar Supernatural font against a dreary, mottled, grey-and-white background, and if that's all the effort The Title-Card Guys have deigned to put into these things, I can't imagine how lackluster and crappy the actual episode is going to be. In any event, the black spray paint on one of the Os gets a little drippy for a bit before we snap over into a montage covering the major events of the last two years, and to its credit, THE ROAD SO FAR makes Season Six look a hell of a lot more fun than it actually was. The excellent musical selection for this sequence -- Foghat's "Slow Ride," -- certainly adds to that impression, though to be honest with you, it mainly makes me wish I were watching Dazed and Confused again instead of this episode.
So, anyway, to recap: Darling Sammy went to Hell and all he got was that lousy wall in his head; My Devious Baboo teamed up with Crowley to suck all of the soul-generated energy out of Purgatory, only to double-cross the demon at the appropriate moment; Balthazar, Raphael, and any number of swell beasties bit it; the power of Purgatory's souls turned Castiel into God; and Dashing El Deano stood around looking both pretty and useless for what seems like the last several years. And in the end, as you'll no doubt recall, My Godly Baboo spake as thus: "You will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord, or I shall destroy you." And then everyone giggled when the camera shot straight up his nose.
Rattle, Rattle HIDEOUSLY BORING NOW! The NOW!'s N dribbles a thin line of bitterly black demonic snot down the screen as it advances menacingly towards us before fading into the darkness, and we linger there in the wind-swept murk for a moment until the camera finally fades up to pick up precisely where we left off last May. Well, you know, not precisely where we left off, because that would mean we'd still be halfway up Castiel's goddamned nose, but whatever. My Godly Baboo's still standing there in the middle of Crowley's grue-smeared laboratory with Our Freshly Imperiled Heroes (plus Bobby!) arranged in a gawp-mouthed semicircle around him. "Well, all-righty then!" Bobby perks, and I almost typed "Booby," there, which cannot augur well for everyone's favorite little redneck hairball this season. In any event, Bobby promptly drops to his barely concealed kneepads in response to My Godly Baboo's subtle season-finale suggestion, and just to make sure he's doing it right, he asks, "Is this good, or do you want the whole forehead-to-the-carpet thing?" My Godly Baboo simply stares at him by way of response, so...that's a yes? A no? Anyone? Anyone? Oh, who am I kidding? I totally don't give a shit at this point.