Our Intrepid Heroes crash to the ground outside a cheap motel in a shower of splinters and glass, and barely have they recovered from their tumble when a fierce and fearsome woman of color emerges from the shadows with a sardonic grin on her face to croon, "You two have the strangest luck." "Raphael?" Dean guesses, and we'll be taking her regal silence for a yes. Dumbass El Deano makes some supremely dickish remark I'll not be bothering to transcribe, so it's quite satisfying, really, when Raphael extends one of her perfectly manicured hands to rearrange his insides with a little of her angelic mojo. "The key," she demands as the boys double over in agony. Sam involuntarily drops the key in question onto the blacktop, and as Raphael bends to pick it up, Belthazor cheerily calls out, "And that will open you a locker at the Albany bus station!" Belthazor quickly reveals that Sam and Dean were little more than bits of diversionary bait this evening, drawing Virgil away from him and My Sweet Baboo so they might secure the various purloined goodies from Heaven's arsenal in a safer place. Now that that task has been completed, Belthazor has little use for either Our Intrepid Heroes or Raphael herself. Raphael makes indignant noises and would rend Belthazor limb from limb, I'm sure, were it not for the sudden entrance of My Sweet Baboo, who makes quite an impressive show with the blinding flashes of lightning and the towering shadowy wings and such. Realizing she's outnumbered, Raphael beats a strategic retreat, leaving the boys alone with the other two angels to talk us all to death over the course of the next two minutes.
Well, not really, because Belthazor flutters off almost as quickly as Raphael, so we're actually down to My Sweet Baboo and the morons, the former of whom quickly zaps everyone back to the lush coastal rainforests of southeastern South Dakota so they can talk us all to death from the comfort of Bobby's Emporium. Long story short, Sam and Dean bitch at Castiel for agreeing to this evening's hijinks, and My Sweet Baboo tells them both to shut it, for if he loses the battle against Raphael, everyone dies. Or something like that. Barely have those words left his mouth when Castiel, too, flutters away, leaving Sam and Dean alone to exchange a few pithy remarks before we finally -- and at very long last -- fade to black.
Next week: I have no frigging idea. Evil earwax, I think. Watch if you dare.
Demian is now leaving for Raoul's soiree, despite the depressingly late hour. Raoul, most likely, is already under a cater-waiter or two. You may reach the former at firstname.lastname@example.org. The latter is an imaginary gay dragon on the Internet.