SPLAT! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" shrieks Raoul, writhing about once again upon his overstuffed armchair with delight over the fifth season's endlessly compelling blood-burst of a title card, and it would be remiss of me not to ask if you have anything insightful to add at this juncture, my impressively fanged companion. "I do not!" Then, shall I continue? "You shall!" Excellent. By the way, it's good to have you back after last week's unpleasantness, friend of friends. "My pleasure, I'm sure! Now, do be a dear and hurry this along! We've positively spectacular amounts of VIOLENCE and GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE to attend to!" As you wish, Raoul. As you wish.
The scene picks up immediately from where it left off, with Anna stressing, "We have no choice!" before reminding us all that Darling Sammy just happens to be the super-specialest of Lucifer's super-specially designated Vessels, and arguing that "if Lucifer can't take Sam, his whole plan short-circuits." "No fight with Michael," she basically ticks off on her fingers, "no Croatoan virus, [and] The Horsemen go back to their day jobs." Castiel counters that, even if Anna does manage to kill Sam, Lucifer would simply resurrect him. "Not after I scatter his cells across the universe," Anna quickly retorts. "They'll never find him," she asserts before shrugging and amending that assertion with a slightly smirking, "Well, not all of him." HA! I've a feeling I shouldn't be giggling at that, but the mental image of Satan and his many, many minions trying to pick tiny little Sam Bits out of the interstellar dust cloud for the next several eternities amuses me to no end. Also: Daaaaamn, but that's pretty hard-core and awesome of Anna. Who knew she had it in her? Certainly not My Sweet Baboo, whose expression betrays his surprise at how cunning her solution to their current troubles actually is, even as he turns away from her to conceal it. "We'll find another way," he mumbles vaguely, but she refuses to let it go. "How's that going?" she snits. "How's The [Fucking] Colt [That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't] working out?" Well, Anna, about as well as one would expect, given its name, but I suspect your question's rhetorical. "Or the search for God?" she continues viciously, ignoring me completely in favor of all but spitting her words at Castiel's rumpled back. "Is anything working?" Well, no, it's not, but My Sweet Baboo will be damned before he admits that to you, honey. "If you want to stop The Devil," she finishes forcefully, "this is how!" "The answer's still no," Castiel at long last breathes, having finally regained his voice, "because Sam is my friend." I think Dean's gonna be jealous when he hears about that, but that's still in the future, so let's focus on the now, especially the part where My Sweet Baboo turns back to face her with the following vow: "You come near Sam Winchester, and I'll kill you." "VIOLENCE!" shrieks Raoul in anticipatory glee. "WANTON ACTS OF UNREPENTANT ANGEL-UPON-ANGEL VIOLENCE AND GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Unfortunately for Raoul's well developed sense of bloodlust, Anna chooses this moment to flutter away. "Rats!" Castiel, thus left alone, sighs and slowly lifts his head to the sky.
Somewhere else, the camera slowly rises over the hood of an entirely ludicrous 1970s-era Trans Am -- complete with the requisite flaring firebird on the hood, no less -- to crawl up towards the windshield, behind which two Dazed And Confused-types spark up a bowl before leaning in towards each other to tongue-wrestle for a spell while Molly Hatchet's "The Creeper" grinds away on the eight-track, and if you're wondering why they chose Molly Hatchet for this particular sequence, I'll note that the cover art for that band's debut album is entitled "The Death Dealer" and leave it at that. Then, just to harsh on the stoners' sweet, sweet buzz in the most annoying manner imaginable, Angelic Anna zaps in from the indifferently located warehouse to crash back, semiconscious, onto the Trans Am's hood. The firebird's wings? Perfectly positioned beneath her body so they appear to be her own, of course, and oh, show. Oh, clever, clever show. In any event, the stoners leap from the front seat to haul Anna to her barely functioning feet, quickly decide their unexpected guest requires immediate medical attention, and drag Anna off towards the nearby hospital, passing a massive poster advertising Grease as they go. "Oh, Dody!" shrieks Raoul, still in mourning even now, nearly two years since that irrepressible little sprite left us. "One is never appreciated in one's own time!" Dude, she's not appreciated now. "WHAT?!" Nothing! Nothing -- do you need a Kleenex, my scaly friend? "I think I'm okay!" Good. Should I continue, then? "Please do!" Fine.
Meanwhile, back at this week's motel room, Castiel diligently chalks something mysterious and magical onto a table already laden with various bowls and potions and whatnot while Dean disappointedly fumes, "Really? Anna?" "It's true," Castiel assures him, never once lifting his eyes from his work. "So, she's gone all Glenn Close?" Dean grumps. Castiel, of course, does not get the reference, and I'd listen to Dean's succinct explanation, I'm sure, were Darling Sammy not working his gigantic panties into a wad over there on his bed. "So, the plan to kill me," he bleats, all furrowed brow and pleading puppy-dog eyes, "would it actually stop Satan?" My Sweet Baboo takes a long moment to eye Dean, carefully gauging his earthbound boyfriend's mood, then returns his attention to Sam to LIE, "No." Well, that was helpful. In any event, we eventually arrive at the central point of this scene, which is this: As Anna will stop at nothing to see Sam dead, Castiel and the boys must kill her first. To that end, Castiel's chalked that mysterious and magical something on the table to, uh, scry for her, I suppose, and after he chants a little Craptin, the bowl at the center of the chalk circle erupts, rocking Castiel back on his heels a bit. "I've found her," he eventually announces, after pausing for dramatic effect. "Where is she?" Dean barks. "Not where," Castiel corrects, for he saw the same promos everybody else did. "When." Our Intrepid Heroes, not getting it, go, "Buh?" so Castiel specifies, "In 1978." "I wasn't even born yet!" Sam protests, leaping to his agitated feet. "You won't be," Castiel rumbles ominously by way of response, "if she kills your parents." DUN! Dean immediately insists Castiel transport them back to 1978, but there's a problem. As you'll recall, My Reconstituted Baboo has been cut off from Heaven's...whatever, so time travel is no longer the simple task it was for him at the beginning of last season. "Taking this trip with passengers," he warns, "will weaken me." That's a risk Our Intrepid Heroes are more than willing to take so, after Castiel packs them a duffel stuffed with various implements of angelic destruction, My Sweet Baboo taps on Sam and Dean's foreheads with the tips of his fingers, and the screen flares white to knock us into the METAL TEETH CHOMP!
ZAP! Sam and Dean materialize in the middle of a busy street in the middle of the pouring rain, and must therefore dodge various wood-paneled station wagons and spectacularly exploding Pintos to scamper over to the sidewalk, and while the town surrounding them might look an awful lot like Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10Next