Supernatural
Slash Fiction

Episode Report Card
Demian: A- | 8 USERS: A+
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The Hardy Boys Sound Like Sensible Fucking Men

Also: Whatever, because I think we're supposed to be more concerned about the fact that Our Intrepid Heroes are about to knock over a bank at the moment. And as Perky Megan lifts her head back up to saucily inquire of Dashing El Deano, "How do you want it?" Dean produces a machine gun from his own goddamned jeans and points it at Perky Megan's face to demand all the money in Perky Megan's till, thank you very much. Our Intrepid Heroes then unexpectedly unleash several sputtering rounds of ammo at the ceiling, sending various customers and tellers diving for cover as Darling Sammy bellows, "Hands in the air! Hands in the air!" "You're money's insured," he adds, "so no heroes, okay?" By the way, Darling Sammy's standing right next to one of those height strips all convenience stores and banks have taped next to their entrances, and it's official: Jared Padalecki is eight and a half feet tall. Freak.

Moments later, Our Intrepid Heroes have corralled every last bank customer and employee into the safe, and we can see that Perky Megan's paired her bland beige dress with a pair of white nylons, and for this, she must die. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Along with everyone else in the vault, apparently. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Thanks for nothing, Megan. Yep, after Darling Sammy mutters, "Ya ready?" Dashing El Deano takes a moment to wink at the overhead security camera, and then Our Dear Boys open fire, spraying the cowering -- and prudently off-camera -- throng of hostages with enough bullets to kill every last one of them dead. And when the last of the screaming fades away, Sam and Dean nod at each other in acknowledgement of a massacre well done before stepping directly into the path of this evening's oncoming...

...SNOT ROCKET! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Becalm yourself, lizard -- there wasn't a single drop of the good stuff in that entire sequence, even though you'd expect the two of them to get spattered with all sorts of blood and brain matter, given how close they were standing to their victims. "Oh, poop!" pouts Raoul, two perfect circles of mildly vexatious smoke popping forth from his somewhat exasperated nostrils. "You're no fun!" Be that as it may, did you not find it the least bit unnerving to watch as Our Dear Boys pitilessly mowed down an entire bank's worth of people? "Nope!" All-righty, then! Shall I continue? "Please do!" Let's hit it:

Once this evening's SNOT ROCKET! has wiped itself from our screens, the camera fades up on the exterior of that ridiculously scenic rustic homestead from a couple of episodes ago. Down in the basement, the ever-reliable Bobby's got Leviathan Chet chained tightly to a chair, and we enter the scene just as Bobby's filling a syringe with a dose of some foul liquid or other, chosen from a well-stocked table of similarly foul liquids stored in a variety of bottle and jars. "Let's see how you like a little fruit of the poisoned tree," Bobby growls as he approaches his prisoner with that syringe at the ready. "Isn't that just a legal expression?" Leviathan Chet snides back, and not quite, Leviathan Chet, but thanks for playing. Bobby more or less ignores the snippy monster in the chair and jams the needle into the thing's thigh. "Hmmm!" Leviathan Chet sarcastically muses once the foul liquid's entered his bloodstream. "Oaky!" "Similar finish to holy water," he adds with a smile, "but not as bitter as rock salt!" Bobby rolls his eyes and lumbers back over to his Table Of Torment just as Our Intrepid Heroes wander down from upstairs, with Dean grousing, "Is he still sucking air?" "Greatest hits didn't do the trick," Bobby sighs by way of reply, of course referring to the various items he's already selected from his Table Of Torment to torture the prisoner. "I'm down to B-sides and deep cuts." Dean pisses that Bobby'd better figure something out fast, because James Marsters's extra-fancy mojo's about to wear off at any moment, and when that happens, they'll have to drop a car on Leviathan Chet "just to stop him." "Actually," Leviathan Chet calls out from his murky corner of the basement, "Edgar walked away from that car -- he's fine!" Sam and Dean gape. "Well," Leviathan Chet continues, enjoying the moment, "he's a little pissed at you, but..." "Shut your cake-trap!" Dean snaps right before he demands of Leviathan Chet, "How'd you find us?"

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