Robin’s Rambles – “Meet The New Boss”

As far as the new title is concerned, the word NOW comes complete in black and white with blood dripping down the N. Bobby kneels. “All right then,” he says, asking if this is good, or does Cas want the “forehead to the carpet” thing. (LOL!) Dean and Sam are about to kneel, too, but Cas orders, “Stop.” There’s no point if they’re only doing this out of fear, not love or respect. Sam starts to speak, but Cas reminds him he just stabbed him in the back and therefore has nothing to say to him. “Get up,” Cas orders. “This isn’t you,” protests Dean. “The Cas you knew is gone,” the former angel says. “So what then?” asks Dean, “kill us?” “What a brave little ant you are,” proclaims Cas. They’re powerless and wouldn’t dare move against him again, so he has no need to kill them–not now–“once you were my favorite pets, before you turned and bit me.” (ants, pets, these terms for people he once loved as brothers?)  “Who are you?” asks Dean, chilled. “I’m God,” replies Cas, “and if you stay in your place, you may live in my kingdom–you rise up, I will strike you down. . .not doing so well, are you, Sam?” Sam, whose pale face and action belie his words, insists he’s fine. “Dean angrily reminds Cas he said he would fix Sam–“You promised!” “If you stood down, which you hardly did,” Cas reminds him, “be thankful for my mercy, I could have cast you back in the pit.” “This is NUTS!” says Dean, “you can turn this around, please!” “I hope this is the last you see of me,” says Cas, and disappears, leaving the three men staring at each other in dismay. Sam is clearly in mental and physical distress. “You OK?” asks Dean. Sam, having flashbacks of falling on glass, surrounded by hellfire, hands and nose bloody, is not, but somehow, Dean misses it.

Cas walks through a field, telling unseen angels that they need a firm hand. He thought free will was the way to go, but not in their case. With Father out of the picture, “I am your father now. Be obedient, children, or this will be your fate.” The camera pans back to show an empty-eyed, dead angel, then an entire field of them (oh, the chills this gave me!), wings spread. “It is a new day,” proclaims Cas, “on earth and in heaven. Rejoice.”

New title: The word SUPERNATURAL, in black and white, explodes, like Cas does to his enemies, blood dripping down from some of the letters.  There is also the sound of a heartbeat.  

Singer Salvage – Dean gives a healthy grunt upside-down inside the wrecked Impala, causing Bobby to ask him if he’s “fixin’ it or primal screamin’.” Bobby reports that Sam is still asleep and God Part Deux is still in the wind. Bobby isn’t sure what he’s looking for–miracles, mass visions, trench coat on a tortilla remember God on a tortilla?)–but Dean is sure they’ll find him. And when we do find new-and-improved? asks Bobby, who doesn’t even know what books to hit for this. “Figure it out!” orders Dean, irritated, then immediately apologizes, “This ain’t in no book. If you stick your neck out, Cas steps on it.” “I’m gonna do what I can do,” says Dean, “fix this car till she’s mint. Then when Sam wakes up, no matter what shape he’s in, we glue him back together, too–we owe him that.” “I’m with ya,” agrees Bobby.

Sam joins Dean in the kitchen and says aside from a little headache, he feels pretty good–put on his own socks and everything. They’re both surprised Sam feels so fine, but Dean doesn’t want to put a gift horse under a microscope. Dean grabs a beer and tells Sam to come out to the car and they’ll fill him in on what happened with Cas. Something weird happens to Sam before he leaves the room, and even he isn’t sure what it is.

At the Serenity Church, some preacher puts down Lady Gaga, Hollywood, et al and claims to speak for God. Cas shows up. “Who says you speak for God?” he asks the preacher. “You’re wrong, I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation. On the other hand, I cannot abide hypocrites like you, Reverend. Tell your flock where YOUR genitals have been before you speak for me.” (I couldn’t stop laughing over this line.) “And who the heck are you?” the Reverend demands. “I’m God,” Castiel replies. A man sitting amongst the congregation stands to help the Rev, but Cas kills him. “And he who lies in my name shall choke on his own false tongue,” says Cas darkly, “and his poisonous words shall betray him.” The man, mouth filled with spittle, falls to his knees and dies. “I am the Lord, your God,” says Cas to the horrified congregation. He stumbles as he’s exiting, however, and grips one of the pews for support. His hand leaves a burnt mark in the wood, and the stained glass window behind him displays Cas in his trench coat instead of Jesus.

In Bobby’s basement, Sam retrieves a tool, turns and finds himself in what appears to be the fiery pits of hell! “No, this can’t be happening!” he moans, seeing meat hooks with pieces of flash hanging from them. Bobby comes down to get him, wondering what’s taking so long, and urges him to come upstairs and check the TV–they’ve found Cas. Bobby has no inkling of Sam’s hallucination, however. 

The sudden deaths of religious leaders are being investigated by reporters and cops. On TV, a woman is describing Cas as having no beard, no robe, just young and sexy. He had a raincoat. Annoyed, Dean turns off the TV. 

The brothers work on the Impala together, listening to Cas’ swath of destruction in the name of himself. Motivational speakers? Dean isn’t sure new Cas gets irony any better than old Cas. Of course, old Cas wouldn’t smite Madison Square Garden just to make a point. “He is off the deep end of the deep end,” says Dean, “and there is no slowin’ down.” Sam wants to talk to the guy, but Dean reminds him Cas isn’t just a guy, he’s God, and when God gets pissed, you get out of the way–haven’t you ever read the Bible? Cas used us, lied to us, cracked your gourd like it was nothing–no more talk, we have spent enough on him. “OK,” agrees Sam. “Hand me that socket wrench,” says Dean, giving Sam a look that says he doesn’t trust him. 

On a shabby trailer, covered with anti-angel symbols, we see a Tennessee license plate that reads AE 32R6 IN GOD WE TRUST. Heh! “These Boots Were Made For Walkin'” by Nancy Sinatra plays. Inside, a man pours a drink for himself and watches Castiel on TV. “Educate me, (Rob) Lewinsky,” urges Crowley, swirling the booze around in his glass. His TV abruptly shuts off by itself thanks to Cas, who greets him, “Hello, Crowley, you look stressed.” “Bollocks,” says Crowley quietly. 

(I am delighted to see Crowley, who always adds fun to anything involving Cas!)

Cas assures Crowley he never lost him, that the scratches on the wall in his trailer are useless (now that he’s God). “Can’t blame a girl for tryin’,” says the demon, “fancy a drink before you smite me?” Cas refuses. “Like to bend ’em right over, do ya?” says Crowley, comically squeezing his eyes shut, drink in hand. (I LOVE their dirty scenes!) Cas isn’t going to kill him, he has plans for him, a new arrangement! “I let you live, you return to your post as king of hell–but I choose where each soul goes, I control the flow, and you take whatever I give you.” Crowley figures Cas intends to keep the lion’s share, so hell’s being down-sized. “I would have done away with it completely,” says Cas, “but I need a threat to hold over my enemies, and we need to keep Michael in Lucifer’s cage.” Crowley gathers this is not a negotiation. “No,” agrees Cas. “Then I graciously accept. . .boss,” says the demon archly. Cas stares at his hands, noticing some odd stigmata. “I’ll be in touch,” says Cas, and is gone.

Sam sits at Bobby’s kitchen table, reading. A chain falls from the ceiling, wraps itself around his throat and drags him up. He struggles frantically, trying to free himself, but it turns out it’s a hallucination. “Dean? Bobby?” calls Sam.  No one responds.

Bobby and Dean admire the work done thus far on the Impala. “I should do this professionally,” brags Dean. Bobby asks if he’s seen Sam lately, wondering how he’s even vertical–especially since Cas broke his damn piñata. He says he’s OK, Dean reminds him. “HOW?” asks Bobby. Dean doesn’t know, but prays to God it’s true. “We need to come up with a new sayin’ for that,” says Bobby. (LOL!) Sam overhears the next part of their conversation. “Look at our lots,” says Dean, “how many more hits can we take–so if Sam says he’s good, he’s good.” “You believe that?” asks Bobby. “Yeah,” says Dean. He and Bobby exchange a look. “No,” amends Dean, as Sam looks downcast, “you wanna know why?–because we never catch a break–so why would we this time?–just this one thing, you know?–but I’m not dumb. I’m not gonna get my hopes up just to get kicked in the daddy pills again.” (What are daddy pills, folks, anyone know?)  (Note: Dean looks mighty sweet in a snug fitting mechanic’s outfit.) “How ya feeling’, sport?” asks Bobby. Sam reports that a publishing house literally exploded an hour ago and the body count is rising rapidly; they have to do something. They need to hunt the SOB, says Bobby, but he lost his God gun, so. . .  Is there a heavenly weapon, perhaps something from that angel arsenal Balthazar stole? asks Sam. “He’s God,” says Dean, there’s nothing–but there might be someone.” To Crowley’s consternation, he finds himself once more ensconced in a Devil’s Trap in Bobby’s panic room. He laments that his new boss is going to kill him–all of them–what do you think he’s going to do when he finds out they’ve been conspiring?–“You DO want to conspire, don’t you?” (LOL, no matter what, there’s no way Crowley wants Cas to be holding him by the short hairs.) “We want you to just stand there and look pretty,” says Bobby. Crowley is listening. Dean explains that they need a spell to bind Death. Crowley can’t believe their Chutzpah. Lucifer did it, Sam points out. That’s Lucifer, says Crowley. A spell is a spell. You really believe you can handle that kind of horsepower? wonders Crowley–you’re delusional! Death is the only player left on the board with the juice to handle God, explains Dean. And they will both mash us like peas, points out Crowley, why should I help on a suicide mission? Bobby steps forward with the most pertinent question of all: “DO you really want Cas running the universe?”  

A blind man sits begging for money. Cas drops in coins with his stigmata-ized hand, calling the man a true believer. People say I’m wrathful, says Cas, I only punish those who lie and forsake me. I am a just God. “Excuse me?” the blind man says. Cas presses his fingers to the man’s forehead. “See,” he intones. “Oh my God!” the man cries, looking into Cas’ mangled face, probably sorry his vision has been restored for this, “what’s wrong with you?”

In a men’s room, Cas stares at the stigmata surrounding his eyes–and opens his shirt and stares at the whispering creatures roiling around inside his belly, like triplets fighting in their mother’s womb for dominance. “Let us out!” they call. “No,” cries Cas, dismayed. Set me thinking about ALIEN and all the pregnant male stories in the SPN fan fic kingdom.  Anyone for Sam/Dean/Cas butt babies?

Crowley sends over some paperwork. “Who feels like hog-tying Death tonight?” smiles Dean. “Old age is overrated anyhow,” mutters Bobby. Sitting at his desk, Bobby notes they have most of what’s needed, but will have to make a run for a few things–like an act of God, crystallized forever. They need an actual crystal, a Folderite, and a biggie. “Let me guess,” says Dean, “rare.” (Ed. Note: Dean seemed especially cynical in tonight’s ep, assuming they would have a hard time finding everything, probably because that’s the way things have ALWAYS gone for them.)  Bobby found the winner of an auction, Wayne Bitter, 9 hours away. 

They arrive at Wayne’s home and Dean asks someone they counter if he has any Grey Poupon before knocking him out. “Grey Poupon, seriously? asks Sam. “It’s what popped in my head, confesses Dean.

Dean locates the crystal, but hears the sound of a gun being cocked behind him. Mr. and Mrs. Weiss stand there. “I don’t wanna hurt you, really,” says Dean. “I’m the one with the firearm, son,” the man holding the sawed-off points out. “I get that,” says Dean. Shortly thereafter, our intrepid hero Dean has the couple gagged and tied to chairs. Bobby and Sam join him. “Hi, guys, this is Dr. and Mrs. Weiss,” says Dean. “Hi. . .sorry,” says Sam. “I found the God thingy,” says Dean. “Let’s light this candle,” says Bobby, setting down his basket ‘o’ goodies. They all set about prepping the room, moving furniture, lighting candles, writing symbols, adding Dean’s blood to the mix–all as if they’ve done this thousands of times before. The Weiss’ watch in trepidation and fascination. Bobby begins an incantation; books fall off shelves, glass smashes everywhere, then there is silence.

“Um. . .hello, Death?” calls Dean. “You are joking,” says the hollow-faced man himself. Mrs. Weiss squeals in terror behind her gag. “Sorry,” says Dean, “this isn’t what it seems.” “Seems like you bound me,” says Death, holding out his hands to show them a glittering gold chain dangling between them. Bobby looks petrified. “For good reason,” says Dean, “just hear us out. Fried pickle chip? Best in the state?” (Dean remembers Death’s penchant, similar to his own, for local junk food.) “That easy to soothe me, you think?” asks Death peevishly, “this is about Sam’s hallucinations, I assume?” Since this is the first they are hearing about Sam’s hallucinations, Bobby and Dean are surprised. “What?” asks Dean. “Sorry, Sam, one wall per customer,” says Death, “No unbind me!” he orders Dean. “They can’t–yet” says Sam. “This isn’t going to end well,” states Death. “We need you to kill God,” says Dean. “Pardon?” asks Death. “Kill God, you heard right,” says Bobby, Your Honor.” “What makes you think I can do that?” asks Death. “You told me,” says Dean. “Why should I?” asks Death. “Because we said so and we’re the boss of you,” says Dean. Sam’s and Bobby’s heads swivel toward Dean in astonishment. “I mean, respectively,” amends Dean. “Amazing,” says Cas,joining the party, his face a hideous mask. “Cas. . .” says Sam. “I didn’t want to kill you,” begins Cas, “but now. . .” “You can’t kill us,” says Dean. “You’ve erased any nostalgia I’ve had for you, Dean,” continues Cas, about to snap his fingers. “Death is our bitch,” gloats Dean, “we ain’t gonna die even if God pulls the trigger.” “Annoying little protozoa, aren’t they?” Death asks Cas, looking at the Weiss’, “God?–you look awfully like a mutated angel to me. Your vessel’s melting, you’re going to explode.” “No I’m not,” says Cas childishly, “when I’ve finished my work, I’ll repair myself. Death: “You think you can because you think you’re simply under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that’s not the worst problem. There are things much older than souls in Purgatory and you gulped those in, too.” “Irrelevant,” says Cas, “I control them.” “For the moment,” says Death. “Wait, what older things?” asks Dean. “Long before God created angel and man,” explains Death, “he made the first beast–the leviathans–I personally found them entertaining, but He was concerned they’d chomp the entire petrie dish, so he locked them away. Why do you think he created Purgatory?–to keep those clever, poisonous things out. Now Castiel has swallowed them. He’s the one thin membrane between the old ones and your home.” “Enough,” orders Cas. “Stupid little soldier you are,” says Death. “Why?” asks Cas, “because I dared open a door that He shut? Where is he? I did a service taking his place.” “Service?” snarls Death, “settling petty vendettas?” “No,” says Cas, “I’m cleaning up one mess after another, selflessly.” “Quite the humanitarian,” says Death sarcastically. “And how would you know?” demands Cas, “what are you, really? A flyswatter?” “Destined to swat you, I think,” says Death softly. “Unless I take you first,” says Cas. “Really brought his own press, this one,” says Death, “please, Cas, I know God, and you, sir, are no God.” “All right, put your junk away, both of you,” orders Dean, scared, “call him what you want, just kill him now!” Cas looks at Dean, stunned and hurt. “All right,” says Death, and raises a killing hand. Cas snaps his fingers, releasing Death from the binding chains. “Thank you,” says Death to Cas, adding, “shall we kickbox, then? I had a tingle I’d be reaping someone very, very soon.” He grabs the bag of pickle chips, assuring the Weiss’, “don’t worry, not you.” Cas disappears. “Well he was in a hurry,” remarks Death, nibbling on a chip.

“That’s exactly why I’m running again,” Senator Michelle Walker, candidate, tells a reporter, “to save my constituents from the godless policies of my opponents–couldn’t have said it better myself.” Cas, face looking more scarred than before, enters. “May I help you?” one of the workers asks him. Cas, acting peculiarly, says he’s here to see the senator about abuse of power. “I am not petty,” says Cas, “I am punishing a woman who causes poverty and despair in my name. I put your needs first, don’t you understand? All of you! I am a better God than my father! How can I make you understand?” He hears the whispering voices again and bursts into maniacal laughter.

Death is enjoying his pickle chips and soda. Sam looks at Dean and eye-gestured toward Bobby. Dean is about to speak when Death says, “Shut up, Dean. I’m not here to tie your shoes every time you trip. I warned you about those souls how long ago? Long ago to stop that fool and here we are again with your little planet on the edge of immolation.” “Well I’m sorry,” says Dean, “I’ve been trying to save this planet, so maybe you should find somebody better to tip off.” “Maybe I should spend my effort on a better planet, It’s been amusing.” opines Death. “Hold on, can’t you give us something?” asks Sam, “you have to care a little bit about what happens to us?” “You know, I really don’t,” says Death, “but I do find that little angel arrogant.” “Let’s go with that!” says Dean excitedly. “Your only hope is to have him return it all to Purgatory–quickly,” says Death. “We need a door,” says Sam. “You have everything you need with that lab,” says Death, “get him to return there and compel him to give up the power.” “Compel?” repeats Dean in disbelief. “Figure it out,” says Death. “But that door only opens in the eclipse,” Bobby remind him, “and that’s over.” Death promises to make another, 3:59 Sunday morning, just before dawn. Be punctual, don’t thank me. Clean up your mess. Try to bind me again, you’ll die before you start. Nice pickle chips, by the way.” (I think that’s really nice of Death, very accommodating to give them the needed eclipse!) 

Cas, covered in blood, awakens at Michelle Walker’s campaign headquarters to find he has apparently slaughtered the candidate and everyone else. “No. . .no,” he mutters, gazing around himself in horror, the expression on his face changing from evil and happy to upset and confused.

At Bobby’s, Sam finds Dean drinking and asks if he wants some coffee with that. “It’s six PM somewhere,” says Dean. We’ve gotta hit the road,” Sam insists, “how are we supposed to get Cas to that friggin’ lab by 3:59 AM?” “We don’t,” says Dean. “What do you mean, we don’t?” demands Sam. “We can’t bring the horse to water, we can’t MAKE it drink,” says Dean–“why fool ourselves?” “I know you think that Cas is gone,” says Sam. Dean is sure, but Sam is sure he’s in there somewhere, “I KNOW it! I was pretty far sometimes myself, and you never gave up on me.” “Yeah, it turns out you’re the same open book you’ve always been,” says Dean, pouring another drink, “Hallucinations? Really? I gotta find out from Death?” “What was I supposed to do?” asks Sam. “How about not lying?” asks Dean–“how about tellin’ me that you got crazy crap climbin’ those walls?” “Why?–you can’t help,” insists Sam–“you have some pretty severe stuff coming your way lately, and I figured why burst the one good bubble you have left? It’s under control.” “What?” asks Dean impatiently. “I know what’s real and what’s not,” Sam assures him, “damn it, Dean, we can deal with this once we deal with Cas.” “You know what I’m gonna do?” asks Dean–“I’m gonna drink, stuff my pie-hole and watch some Asian cartoon porn–and act like the world’s gonna end, because it is.” Staring at his computer screen, Dean declares, “You gotta be kiddin’ me–massacre at the campaign headquarters of a an incumbent senator by a trench-coated man–here’s security footage.” It’s Cas. “I think reaching Cas is out of the cards,” adds Dean, drinking to that. 

Sam stands sadly alone in the middle of Bobby’s parking lot, calling for Cas, even though he suspects it may be pointless. “I dunno if any part of you even cares,” says Sam, “but I still think you’re one of us. You’ve gone way, way off the reservation, but we still have until dawn to stop this. Let us help, please.”

Sam returns to Dean, who is still at the computer, watching Asian cartoon porn, drinking. Sam wants him to turn that off before he’ll sit down and have a drink with him. They clink glasses. Cas appears, bloody and tottering. “I heard your call,” the former angel says, nearly falling down, “I need help.”

“We need the right blood, there’s a small jar in the hall supply closet,” Cas tells Sam, who immediately goes to get it. Bobby stands silently reading over some paperwork.  Cas calls Dean, who asks if he needs something else. “No,” says Cas, “I feel regret about what I did to you and Sam. “You should,” says Dean, moving equipment into place. “If there was time and I was stronger, I would fix him now,” says Cas, “I just wanted to make amends before I died.” “Okay,” says Dean, who is not happy with his former friend. “Is it working?” asks Cas. “Does it make you feel better?” asks Dean. “No,” says Cas, “you?” “Not a bit,” answers Dean. 

Sam, retrieving the blood, finds himself face to face with LUCIFER! “I know it all seems so silly, doesn’t it?” says Lucifer–“Hi, Sam–long time no spooning.” “You’re not here,” says Sam, terrified, “you’re in hell.” “Now that, you’re right on,” says Lucifer.” “Meat hooks. . .chains,” says Sam, “you–it’s not real–it’s just my brain, leaking memories from the cage because of the wall breaking down, that’s all.” “That’s very good, your little theory,” says Lucifer, “it’s WRONG. Sam, this isn’t you going guano, everything else has–EVERYTHING, from the second you sprung out of that lock box.” “It’s impossible,” insists Sam. “No,” argues Lucifer, escaping was impossible, I have to say, I think this is my best work here yet–make you BELIEVE that you’re free, then. . .yank the wool off of your eyes. You never left, Sam. You’re still in the cage. . .with me.”

Comments: I don’t know what’s worse–what has happened to poor Castiel or Sam!  

What if Sam’s soul was never really returned to him and he’s been in The Cage with Michael and Lucifer this whole time? He was never returned to Dean, to Bobby or Castiel, and his dreams of being home with those he loved are cruelly being sent to him by Lucifer as more cruel ways of hell’s torture?  Let’s face it, being flayed day after day must get pretty boring for hell’s minions, and changing it up a bit must be a lot of fun for them.  Sure, make these poor saps think they’re home with their parents, brothers, sisters, let them think they have a chance to make love to their wives, cuddle their kids. . .then yank it away at the end of the day! That’s why Sam gets those hellish flashes!  Oh, God, it’s too awful to contemplate!

As for Cas, why not let him think he’s been give a chance to BE God?  After all his hard work and effort?  But truth is, he screwed the pooch big time and Raphael won heaven’s Civil War?  So Raph and all his minions are having a wonderful time playing around with Cas, this last scenario allowing these Leviathans to take over his sensitive vessel and use it to play hovel for these cruel, nasty creatures? 

It just makes me want to weep for Sam and Cas, and for those who love him, too!

Hey, let me write the scripts!  I’ll be making y’all tear your hair out!   

“Hang in there, it’s a coupla minutes,” Bobby assures Cas, pressing his hand to his shoulder for comfort. “Where’s Sam, it’s go time?” he quietly asks Dean. Big bro leaves to look for little bro. Finding the bottle of blood and no Sam, Dean mutters “Damn it!” and returns to the lab. He draws a sigil on the tiled wall. “That’s good enough,” says Bobby, helping Cas to his feet. “Step right up,” says Bobby. Cas, staggering, stands before the sigil and Bobby begins an incantation that has the word “Pugatoria” in it. When Cas falls to the floor, Dean helps him back to his feet. The sigil glows red. “I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says over his shoulder. The center of the sigil blows inward, reminding me of when Sam was getting taken to hell with Michael and Lucifer. Cas, arms open, exposing his chest appears to be releasing the souls inside him into the breach. Cas falls, unconscious; Bobby and Dean rush to his side, checking him over. 

Bobby finds Cas cold. Dean finds he isn’t breathing and suggests angels don’t need to breathe. “He’s gone, Dean,” says Bobby softly. They are both genuinely sad, especially Dean. “Damn it!” says Dean as they both rise, “Cas you child, why didn’t you listen to me?” Cas opens his eyes and gasps; the stigmata on his face disappear. Dean kneels and shakes him. “Cas? Hey! Hey!” Bobby kneels and the two of them help Cas up. “That was unpleasant,” says Castiel, sounding like his old self, “I’m alive.”  “Looks like it,” says Bobby, smiling. “Astonished,” says Cas, “thank you, both of you.” “We’re mostly just tryin’ to save the world,” says Bobby. “I’m ashamed,” says Cas, “I really overreached.” “Ya think?” asks Dean. “I’ll find some way to redeem myself to you,” promises Cas. “One thing at a time,” advises Dean, “come on, let’s get you out of here.” “I mean it, Dean,” says Cas. “OK,” says Dean, “all right, let’s go find Sam, OK.” Cas gives the other two men a mighty push, trying to save them from himself. “I CAN’T HOLD THEM BACK!” shouts Cas–“They held on inside me! THEY’RE SO STRONG! LEVIATHAN I CAN’T FIGHT THEM!” Dean tries to send Bobby to Sam, but it’s too late. Cas’ entire visage changes as he’s overpowered by the Leviathan, who tells them it’s too late; Cas is gone, dead–“We’re the show now.” To prove it, he shoves first Dean, then Bobby, slamming them hard against the wall. A hideous smile slithers across the face of the angel who used to be their friend. Dean gazes up at him in horror. “Now THIS is going to be so much fun,” chortles the Leviathan with a cruel laugh.

Editor’s comments: I don’t know how many fans out there are DARK SHADOWS fans, or even know what DARK SHADOWS is, but it was an immensely popular soap opera that ran from 1967-1971 and featured a sexy vampire named Barnabas Collins (portrayed by Jonathan Frid) and a hottie werewolf played by David Selby. One of its least-favorite storylines was–wait for it–the Leviathan storyline, and as soon as I heard the name of our new Big Bad, I was transported back in time, and not in a good way. I’m not saying this won’t be as much fun as the new villain anticipates, it’s just a flashback for me to a not-so-favorite storyline from a long time ago. I just hope it comes into its own and I like it on its own merits.

Questions:

Dean is furious at Sam for keeping his true condition from him, but honestly, how could he not have SEEN his brother’s poor state?  One look into his eyes should have given it away.  Bobby noticed, why didn’t Dean?  Even if Sam was trying to hide it, surely the ever-watchful Dean should have noticed something wrong with his baby bro. Dean was sure they wouldn’t get a break, since they never do, so why was he angry at Sam for keeping a secret Dean knew anyway??

Cas saw his father as a benevolent God; what turned him into such an SOB?  Why was he murdering so many people?  Was it the Leviathans or Cas himself?

It made me feel SO GOOD to see Dean working on the Impala!  No matter what else was going on, all else seemed right with the world as long as he was inside Baby doing her right (sounds dirty, doesn’t it)?

Crowley-Castiel scenes are so delicious! “Like to bend ’em right over, do ya?” Does anyone NOT love Crowley as much as I do?

Sam is in a very bad state now.  He’s seeing Lucifer tormenting him about never having even been broken out of hell?  Dean thinks Sam is lying, but Dean is the least of Sam’s troubles.  How is Sam ever possibly going to heal?  Or can he?

When Lucifer made reference to “Long time no spooning,” I had a gorge-twisting vision of what Sam went through in hell and felt just horrible for him.  He must have been raped over and over, by Michael and Lucifer and. . .I don’t even want to think about it.

Interesting that SAM is the one who called for Cas and got him to return, isn’t it?  Dean was sure reaching Cas was out of the cards, that Cas was gone, lost to them.  Yet Cas showed up, willing to die to fix what happened.  So sad.  Dean wasn’t ready to forgive, though.  Even sadder.  Apparently the Leviathans inside him are keeping him alive, and all that are doing so.

Cool episode.  I was totally spoiler free, no idea what was going to happen.  Now I see why Misha Collins is no longer a recurring character; he’s a villain.  Amazing performances from the entire cast, especially Misha and both Marks in their roles as Crowley and Lucifer.  Jensen, Jared and Jim were, as always, flawless.  Ratings were way down from last season, but without SMALLVILLE as lead-in, I was expecting that.

This show remains a gem.

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