We arrive back from the break apparently several long minutes after we'd entered it, for Dashing El Deano's pretty, pretty face has long since been brutalized into a bloody pulp by Uncle Arthur, who even now continues to pound away at Our Intrepid Hero until Castiel finally arrives on the scene to plunge The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't into Uncle Arthur's chest. The blade flares for a bit, but it quickly enough shorts itself out, and now it's Castiel's turn to have his ass handed to him on a demonic platter, and as there has been far too much Beating Of The Pretty in this scene, Uncle Arthur can just drop fucking dead any time he feels like... oh, CRAP. Did he? He did! He just impaled Castiel on a goddamned motherfucking meat hook! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" That's it. He is done, do you hear me? DONE. Unfortunately, I am unable to reach through the television screen and finish the worthless motherfucker off myself, so I must await The Corpse Sucker's much-delayed arrival, and in that time, Alastair starts in with the Latinating to banish My Sweet Baboo back to Heaven, and poor Castiel's bleeding everywhere, and his eyes and mouth fill with a terrible white light as the Latination takes effect, and just when I cover my eyes in abject horror over what's about to happen, The Corpse Sucker finally appears and telekinetically hurls Uncle Arthur against The Abattoir's far wall. Castiel drops limply to the floor from his meat hook, useless, while Uncle Arthur unleashes some more of the sneering and whatnot, so it's quite fortunate indeed that Sam decided to suck on his fiendish little girlfriend's arm back in Cheyenne, for he now has the unnatural strength to kill Alastair dead. First, though, Sam must rip the name of the demon responsible for the late angelic slaughter from Alastair's lips, which he does by... twisting his hand around a little? Okay, we'll go with that. But only because I wanted Uncle Arthur dead about fifteen minutes ago, already. Sam twists, and Alastair spews a bunch of garbled nonsense before eventually getting to the truth of the matter: He has no idea who's responsible, but he knows for a fact that Lilith had nothing to do with it. Satisfied with the answer he's received, The Corpse Sucker unleashes the full power of his Mighty Hands Of Discontent, and Alastair's demonic essence basically implodes right there within his host's long-dead body, and at long last, Uncle Arthur shuts the fuck up. "Good riddance to old trash!" I couldn't agree with you more, friend of friends.