Bobby's Emporium. Out in the nighttime lot, Bobby's carefully loading packets of Semtex into a duffel when My Sweet Baboo wanders over from someplace else to stare up at the stars and sigh. Drama queen. I mean, I love him to bits, but still. In any event, Castiel vocally mourns his lost angelitude, or whatever, and Bobby tells him to shut up. Next!
A little later, Our Intrepid Heroes have arrived to finish preparations at the Impala, and after Dean slams shut the trunk, they all wish each other good luck, for Sam, Castiel, and Bobby are heading back to Nevada to sabotage Niveus Pharmaceuticals' distribution center with the Semtex while Dean and Crowley intend to handle Death in Chicago. Sam offers Dean The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't, but Crowley's got something much, much better: Death's Rusty Hand Scythe That Can Kill Anything And Actually Always Does. "How did you get that?" Castiel squints. "Hello!" Crowley replies. "King Of The Crossroads!" And that explanation's good enough for me, so: Moving on! Crowley suggests they hit the road, then pointedly asks Bobby, "You just gonna sit there?" "No, I'm gonna Riverdance!" Bobby scowls, not getting it. Crowley gently chides Speed Racer for "wasting" his Crossroads deal before noting, "I took the liberty of adding a teeny little Sub-A Clause on your behalf." Generalized eyebrow popping abounds. Bobby finally infers what Crowley's been implying for the last few minutes, and...it's a miracle! "Lord have mercy! Hallelujah!" Bobby first wiggles his toes, then rises triumphantly from his wheelchair, and everyone has the good grace not to note that he'll probably go back to being stuck in that chair the minute Crowley returns his soul, which is nice of them, don't you think? "Terribly proper and polite!" Next!
The Road To Nevada. My Sweet Baboo's been mulling Sam's abysmally stupid plan to end The Apocalypse and, because Our Intrepid Heroes "have a habit of exceeding" Castiel's "expectations," My Dumbass Baboo decides it just might work, despite the fact that Michael, as expected, has turned Adam Milligan into an angel condom, so failure on Sam's part now is certain to result in the deaths of billions. Also: CRACK! For yes, gentle reader, Darling Sammy must go all Cracky The Crackheaded Crack-Crack on our collective behind again if he hopes to wrest control of his body from Lucifer after the possession has taken place. You see, the demon blood "strengthens The Vessel" and "keeps it from exploding." "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Now, Raoul, has your excitement been triggered by the promise of the return of The Ginormovamp, or by the threat of Darling Sammy exploding should he not hydrate properly before next week's no-doubt thrilling installment? "Either delightful option is absolutely fine with me, I'm sure!" Good to know. Next!