...the remains of Metallicar, and what's that? Why, it's Entirely Reconstituted Sam, staggering into view! "You'll pardon me, I'm sure!" Consider yourself pardoned. "Thanks! Are we meant to believe the dear boy miraculously rose from his sickbed and walked to Kansas?!" I think so, Raoul. "I need another flagon!" Atta girl. "[Slurp!]"
From below it Latinates. Eventually, some four hours after he began, Crowley reaches the end of his incantation, and he and Raphael eagerly look to their sigil. Nothing happens. "Maybe I said it wrong," Crowley guesses. Well, if you did, sweetheart, then by all means: Recite the fucking thing again. Fortunately, Castiel flutters in from points unknown to assure Crowley that he did a marvelous job. Raphael and Crowley turn to acknowledge Castiel's presence, and we can all see My Sweet Baboo's holding a mostly empty Jar O' Blood. DUN! "What you needed was this," Castiel informs them, hoisting that mostly empty Jar O' Blood into the air with an adorable little self-satisfied smile on his face. And as Dean and Bobby haul themselves to their feet to witness what follows, Crowley steps over to his carefully spackled sigil and basically licks it. "Dog blood," he realizes. "Naturally." My Devious Baboo, you see, sneakily switched Jars on Crowley and Raphael, and he fluttered away with the blend that would actually work. Crowley, of course, comprehends this instantly, but it takes the demon explaining it to everybody else for Raphael, Bobby, and Dean to finally catch on, because they're all so smart. "So," Crowley spits, thwarted, "how'd your ritual go? Better than ours, I'll bet!" By way of reply, Castiel simply drops his head and powers up the eighty or ninety million souls he just scarfed down until the brilliant white light shooting from his body sears everyone on screen straight into this season's final CHOMP!-less commercial break. Dun-dun-DUN!
When we return, Castiel slowly powers down until the dungeon's details once more become discernable. Bobby and Dean are practically cowering with fear, and while Crowley and Raphael aren't quite as bad off, Castiel's display clearly left both of them rattled. And then Castiel speaks. "You can't imagine what it's like," he more or less taunts his temporarily mute audience. "They're all inside me -- millions upon millions of souls!" Crowley cracks wise for one last time with a flippant, "Sounds sexy!" before vanishing into the night. Raphael, now visibly desperate, whimpers, "You let the demon go, but not your own brother?" "The demon, I have plans for," Castiel smiles. "You, on the other hand?" With that, My Badass Baboo snaps his fingers, and Raphael explodes, head first, into a chunky spray of blood and body parts that paints the camera lens red. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" The Angel-Smiting Scimitar she'd been holding clatters harmlessly across the floor, and the dog's-blood sigil is now mostly obscured by a vibrant smear of bombed-out angel guts. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!"