"I don't understand your definition of 'good news,'" Castiel admits. Heh. Bobby patiently elaborates that Capital-D Death will somehow be responsible for the massive landslide that shoves The Windy City into the lake, and if they somehow manage to find The Horseman before he triggers the storm, and if they somehow manage to separate Capital-D Death from his ring, not only will they have saved three million people, but they'll also have the final key needed for Lucifer's divinely wrought cage. "You make it sound so easy," Dean grumbles. "I'm just trying to put a positive spin on things!" Bobby more or less snaps back. Super-Smart Sammy, meanwhile, finally thinks to ask how Bobby managed to put all of this together. "I had, you know. Help," Bobby evasively replies. Cue Crowley, materializing behind them without a sound, but making quite a bit of racket pouring himself a scotch. D'OH! "Don't be so modest," Crowley croons in Bobby's direction. "I barely helped at all." He sniffs at Bobby's inferior liquor, pointedly sets the offensive swill down on the sideboard, and prompts, "Go ahead -- tell them. There's no shame in it." Our Intrepid Heroes are all, "No shame in what, exactly?" and Bobby hems and haws and stutters and stammers and finally admits to trading his soul with Crowley in exchange for Death's coordinates. Dean is shocked and appalled. "You sold your soul?" "More like pawned it," Crowley corrects, adding, "I fully intend to give it back." Sam, meanwhile, has been scrunching his nose up, lost in thought, and finally blurts out, "Did you kiss him?" "Sam!" Dean yelps, shocked and appalled again. "Just wondering!" Sam counters in his defense. Bobby denies it. Crowley clears his throat and directs their attention to his iPhone, and I'm sorry, but I never, ever needed to see Jim Beaver and Mark Sheppard engaged in a hot-n-heavy liplock. NEVER. Call me ageist or lookist or whatever the hell you like, but no. NO. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I see it disturbs you as much as it does me, my scaly friend. "To the contrary, I'm sure!" Oh, God. "It's the most deliciously foul thing I've seen on this charming little Thursday-evening divertissement since that lovely little security guard found himself split in two by that delightfully whimsical elevator! 'EEEEEEEEEEEEE!' say I! EEEEEEEEEEEEE!"