Palatial Lawn. Immediate aftermath. Amid flashes of unworldly lightning, Raphael warns his henchangels to be on the lookout for any stray, snakelike Winchesters, while Castiel quietly panics upstairs in the still-darkened ballroom. A short time later, one of the henchangels tippy-toes up the palatial driveway with his Angel-Smiting Scimitar at the ready when Darling Sammy pops up from out of nowhere with an Angel-Smiting Scimitar of his own. The henchangel immediately zaps himself over to Darling Sammy's side to sneer, "You think you can knife-fight an angel?" "Who's fighting?" the suddenly appearing El Deano smirks from a nearby alcove, and no sooner have those words left his mouth than sneaky El Deano slams a bloody palm against the Angel-B-Gon sigil he'd smeared onto the estate's outer wall. The henchangel explodes backwards in a blast of brilliant white light, leaving Sam and Dean by their lonesome on the drive as...

...yet another burst of unworldly lightning lands the remaining henchangel in the still-darkened ballroom. Castiel at first attempts to reason with the guy, then sighs at the futility of it all and sends his Angel-Smiting Scimitar flying end over end into the remaining henchangel's chest. "Why won't any of you listen?" Castiel despairs as the remaining henchangel howls and wails and drops to the floor, dead. Raphael immediately materializes at Castiel's side and, yanking Castiel's head back by the roots of My Sweet Baboo's feathery coif, answers that question with, "They never listen, Castiel, because their hearts are mine." Um. DUN? I think that was a DUN!, but I'm not completely sure, and it doesn't really matter at this point, anyway, because Raphael's just hurled Castiel through a wall. "VIOLENCE!" Castiel, still suh-huuuuuucking at the hand-to-hand, basically lies there and takes it as Raphael boots him across the carpeting to the grand, curving, two-story stairwell, at which point Raphael sends My Sweet Baboo ass over end down the stairs like he's Meryl Streep in Death Becomes Her. "I LOVE THAT MOVIE!" I know you do, my scaly friend, but let's focus, here, okay? "ISABELLA ROSSELLINI IS A GODDESS!" Raoul. "A GODDESS!" Would you please... "A GODDESS DIVINE!" Oy.

ANY-way, Castiel somehow manages to pull himself together at the bottom of the stairs and straggles to his feet, only to have Raphael bop him on the top of his head with the hilt of yet another Angel-Smiting Scimitar. "Somehow," Raphael intones, clearly enjoying the sound of his own mellifluent voice as he twirls that scimitar around so its pointy end is all but poking My Sweet Baboo in the eye, "I don't think God will be bringing you back this time." Things are looking mighty grim, indeed, for everyone's favorite angel, so it's quite fortunate that Belthazor decides to pop back in at this point to smite Raphael. "VIOLENCE!" Not this time, I'm afraid. "Phooey!" Nope, this time around, Belthazor simply removes a glowing crystal from his pocket and waves the thing around in Raphael's face, at which point the smug archangel turns, eyes first, into a rapidly disintegrating pillar of salt. "Same thing happened to Lot's wife," Belthazor needlessly explains before enthusing, "Ionize the poor sucker, and your kitchen is stocked for life!" Shut up, Belthazor. "DEATH! DEATH TO ALL EUROTRASH WHO WOULD MAKE SUCH HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE JOKES!" I'm sure Belthazor won't last the season, friend of friends, but unfortunately, he won't be dying anytime soon. "Oh, poop!" Aw. Don't pout. "Hmph!" Tell you what: Since they're not getting rid of this grease stain tonight, and since the episode's almost over, why don't you go whip up us a couple of tasty flagons instead of sitting through the crap that remains? "Capital idea, if I do say so myself!" Atta girl.