Supernatural

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admin: A- | 2 USERS: A
YOU GRADE IT
The Hardy Boys Go Back To The Future. Again.
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

Rattle, Rattle THEN!, and does anyone really need a reminder of who Anna The Fallen Angel is? Because I feel like passing over the scenes of her recovered memories and slaughter of Uriel and arrest by certain Heavenly higher-ups under the mournful yet beautifully lit gaze of My Sweet Baboo in favor of skipping ahead to the bits of this sequence that are actually relevant to this evening's presentation -- specifically, those covering Dashing El Deano's brief jaunt back to 1973, where he watched more or less helplessly as The Ceiling Demon destroyed his maternal grandparents and suckered Mother Mary into the deal that set Sam and Dean's entire miserable, wretched, and horrible lives into motion. That was some good angst, there, and you know how I'm not normally one for The Angst. And in the end, after Mother Mary and the demonically enhanced corpse of Papa Campbell sent poor Cindy McLennan howling into months of intensive therapy, and after Pre-Sucky John awoke blissfully unaware of everything that just transpired, and after My Sweet Baboo snatched Our Intrepid Hero back into the present, a miserable, wretched, and horribly wounded El Deano raged, "I couldn't stop any of it! She still made the deal -- she still died in the nursery, didn't she?" To which Castiel rather significantly replied, "Destiny can't be changed, Dean. All roads lead to the same destination." I suggest you remember that line of his, because that assertion becomes terribly important much later in the episode. In the meantime, however, we must first deal with the...

...Rattle, Rattle NOW! And barely has the NOW! begun its menacing advance towards the front of the screen when Warrant's "Cherry Pie" screams onto the soundtrack, and the next thing we know, we've been flung into one of Dashing El Deano's more lascivious dreams, this one involving a pair of preternaturally pretty broadcast TV-friendly strippers wriggling around each other up on the runway of a gloriously tacky gentlemen's club, all for the benefit of Dean and Dean alone. His randy subconscious has dressed the remarkably bendy young ladies as an angel and a devil, and Our Horny Hero enthuses about the kind of Piece On Earth he can really get behind -- if you know what I mean, and I think you do -- until the lovely ladies leave off their vaguely lesbionic gyrations for a moment to part and reveal...Angelic Anna, staring at him from the stage with those overly intense sunken eyes of hers! "Awwwwwk-waaaaard!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, giddily clapping his perfectly manicured paws together with glee over Dashing El Deano's immediately apparent and uncomfortably squirmy dismay over having his erstwhile paramour unexpectedly pop up during what was clearly meant to be a moment of -- how shall I put this? -- private indulgence. "Anna!" Dreamtime El Deano blinks, struggling to maintain his cool while stammering out an explanation that isn't "I was just, uh, w-w-working on a, uh, case!" "This is what you dream about?" Anna eyebrows, of course not buying his pathetic excuse, though her words come across more like a quietly marveling statement than a question, to be honest with you. A thoroughly humiliated Dean flops and flails around on the gloriously tacky gentlemen's club banquette for a bit until she smiles gently at him and descends from the stage to take a seat at his side. "Why you gate-crashing my head?" Dean eventually wonders. "Why'nt you just swing by the motel?" "I can't find you," Anna replies, letting a hint of her confusion over this perplexing development flicker across her face until Dean explains about that Enochian sigil Castiel carved into his ribcage, at which point she allows her expression to harden as she sarcastically retorts, "Cas? Right! Now there's a friend you can count on!" Dean's all, "Huh?" so Anna fills him in on My Sweet Baboo's mournful yet beautifully lit act of betrayal during last season's finale before bitching about the months she's spent in "prison, Upstairs," during which her Heavenly overlords subjected her to "all the torture" and "twice the self-righteousness" of...regular Heaven? Prisons on Earth? An introductory seminar on gender studies at Sarah Lawrence? She refuses to specify, but that doesn't matter, because what does matter is the fact that she's somehow managed to break out, and she's invaded Dean's sleepytime to ask for his help. Dean immediately agrees to do whatever he can, and the two plan to meet at "225 Industrial" -- which seems pretty vague to me, considering the fact that she doesn't know where his goddamned body is -- before Dean...

...snaps awake, fully dressed, atop the vermin-infested comforter of his cold and lonely twin at this week's motel room. He bolts upright to pant and heave until the camera cross-fades over to...

...a darkened and deserted warehouse somewhere remote, I'm sure. Anna paces alone through the gloom for a bit until an impossible breeze stirs the trash at her feet while an otherworldly susurration streams through the air around her head. "Who's there?" she calls out, spinning around just in time to watch as the long-unused light fixtures at the ceiling burst into cascades of bright white sparks, and when they're done, Castiel has magically materialized behind her. "Hello, Anna," he opens mildly enough in those magnificently grumbly low tones of his, and my, how I've missed him over the last three months. "He's dreamy!" Raoul shriekingly agrees, and I'd warn you to step away from my man immediately, Raoul, but My Sweet Baboo's long-awaited and much-appreciated return to the small screen has left me feeling unusually magnanimous this evening, so feel free to fawn and coo over his adorably rumpled presence to your cold-blooded heart's content. "Thanks! I will! Sigh!"

In any event, Anna, quite naturally, is far less enthused by the sudden appearance of My Sweet Baboo than Raoul and I are, and her jaw almost involuntarily tightens with rage before she grits out, "Well! If I didn't know any better, I'd say the Winchesters don't trust me!" "They do," Castiel assures her before adding, pointedly, "I don't." Heh. And as he slowly paces around her, he allows that he's confined Our Intrepid Heroes to this week's motel room because he knows from experience that if Anna escaped from that supernatural Sing Sing in the sky, she did so only with the tacit approval of her captors. Therefore, she must be up to something nefarious, and he demands -- in so many words -- that she explain herself. "I want to help!" Anna insists. "Then what are you doing with that knife?" Castiel shoots back. Busted, Anna draws the ridiculously large serrated double-edged hunting knife in question from the waistband of her jeans and lightly wonders if she's not allowed to protect herself. "That blade doesn't work against angels," Castiel scoffs, "not like this one." And with that, he directs her attention to Uriel's special Angel-Smiting Scimitar, which he'd apparently been concealing in the many folds of his trusty trenchcoat this entire time, and oh, how I loves me some crafty and proactive Castiel. "Wheeeee!" Anna, despite the air of angry bravado she's been attempting to exude since this exchange began, blanches at the sight of the thing, and when Castiel commands her to level with him, she lifts her eyes to his, composes herself as best she can, and states, "Sam Winchester has to die." DUN! Also:

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