Robin’s Rambles: “There Will Be Blood”

Now – Dick Roman is being interviewed by Gloria Jane, who mentions that he has purchased controlling interest in Sucrocorp.  Why the sudden interest in big foods? she asks. He tells her that Sucrocorp plans on eating well. How will pumping sweeteners into us make us healther? Gloria asks him. One word: purity, answers Dick–we’re dialing back the additives to deliver the highest quality you people deserve. (Flash to a viewer in heart-covered drawers eating greasy chips straight out of a bag, and a man glomming a sugary donut.) America is for go-getters, says Dick, people who get off their butts and make it happen, and we need you just as healthy as you can be, which is why we are diving whole hog into what keeps Americans living longer and tasting better. You do, of course, mean the food will be tasting better, Gloria says. That’s exactly what I mean, says Leviathan Dick with a smarmy smile straight into the camera.
 
Susan tells Dick his 11 AM is waiting in the conference room. He takes the God stone out of his briefcase and looks at it a moment, then asks Susan if they’re still looking for a rep in Mainstream Media. Yes, she says. Vundebar, he says, put a replace order on Gloria there. And with the corpse? she asks. Call Chef Fieri, I feel like barbecue, he chortles. They smile at each other. 
 
Kevin, bound and gagged, is being guarded in the conference room by Edgar. Dick introduces himself to Kevin and tells the sweating kid not to be nervous–I’m your biggest fan. He tears off the gag, hurting Kevin. I’ve brought you a present–the stone–what’s that say, Kev? I dunno, Kev insists. Cute, says Dick–Edgar. The latter comes at Kevin, brandishing a knife, but all he does is cut him free. Easy, Edgar, don’t scare the boy, says Dick. I’ve checked–number one in your class, winner of the Chad Kennedy Top Young Scientist Prize, all that on top of being Keeper of the Word–you’re a clever young man–he opens a computer in front of him–I’m confident you’ll make the right choice here. He shows Kevin a letter of recommendation he’s written to Princeton, Kevin’s choice of college, but it’s not until he “kicks it up a notch” and shows Kevin his mother, gagged and tied up, a knife to her throat, that he agrees to give Dick what he wants.
 
I’ve read this more times than the Playboy I found in Dad’s duffel, complains Dean about Kevin’s translation of the Leviathan scripture. Anna Nicole? guesses Sam. Anna Nicole, grins Dean, the good they die young, huh?–we can read this till our eyes bleed, it ain’t gettin’ any clearer. What does it mean? asks Sam. Cut off the head and the body will flounder, says Dean, drinking a beer, I think we both agree the head is Dick right, so bottom line is, we go grab his stuff and mix ourselves a weapon, end of story. I’m all for killing Dick, agrees Sam, but what then?–what about the rest of the Leviathan?–what, are they just gonna drop dead? I dunno, maybe, says Dean. Maybe? says Sam–maybe is good enough for you right now? One problem at a time, all right? says Dean. All right, agrees Sam, but it’s not a crazy idea to figure out what the catch is before we go storming the gate. Maybe this is the catch, says Dean, God’s not tellin’ us every detail–the word is from God, I don’t know how much better it’s gonna get. He leans back to read some more, Bobby standing by. 

 
Later, Dean is brushing his teeth, rinsing and spitting, when the mirror fogs up with frost and Dean can see his breath. Hey, Bobby, how you feelin’ asks Dean. Stronger than ever, reports, Bobby–while you two have been chasin’ your tails, I’ve been thinkin’ on that weapon. Doncha think you should be savin’ your strength? asks Dean. For what? asks Bobby. I’m just sayin’, says Dean, you might want to slow down, you don’t look so hot. I’m in the veil, my Brad Pitt days are over, says Bobby. (LOL!) The kid says the only way to kill the Leviathan is with the bone washed in the three bloods of the fallen–it’s gotta be from a human as light and good as the Leviathan are hungry and dark. Yeah, good luck with that, says Dean. The rest is doable, says Bobby, and doable now–you’ve already got the fallen angel blood, the next stop is the blood of the ruler of fallen humanity–the best I can tell, that’s Crowley. Numero tres is the father of fallen beasts–you gotta bleed an alpha. But they’re all dead, says Dean–every one we found, we rounded up for Crowley and Cas whammied them all. Then make this Cas’ problem, too, says Bobby. Cas ain’t exactly in problem-solving mode, says Dean. Then Crowley! says Bobby. All right, I get it, I get it, says Dean. DO YOU? asks Bobby angrily, causing the mirror to crack. Just sayin’ says Bobby more calmly, I have faith you boys’ll figure it out. Dean gulps. Relax, I’m fine, Bobby assures him, just got a little carried away. Dean looks over his shoulder at the crack in the mirror, unsure.
 
Sam watches a Sucrocorp commercial: Your well-being is our number one priority. Eat well, live well. Dean pours a drink of the hard stuff. FYI, says Dean, Bobby’s off singing in the john these days. Uh, awkward, says Sam. You’re tellin’ me, says Dean, he does have some ideas about the weapon, though. Really, says Sam, showing Dean the computer, he may be just in time. Roman acquires Sucrocorp. They make food additives, explains Sam, namely high fructose corn syrup–that crap is in just about everything–soda, sauces, bread. Don’t say pie, pleads Dean. Definitely pie, says Sam. Bastards, says Dean–so now what, Roman’s moved past restaurants? And into grocery stores, Gas n Sips, vending machines. . .  What can we do about it? asks Dean. Short of going Al Qaeda on their trucks and plans, says Sam, there’s nothing we can do about it. The computer is abruptly snapped closed between them. Like I said, Bobby’s got some ideas, says Dean. 
 
Using a bowl, candled, Sam’s blood, fire and some Latin, the brothers summon Crowley. “Hello, boys,” he greets them.

 
That’s some bracing prose you’re putting down there, Kevin, praises Dick, as Kevin’s fingers fly across the keys. Kevin sinks back in the chair, exhausted. You all done? asks Dick. Kevin nods. You’ve done well–Princeton will be lucky to have you, says Dick. What about my mom? asks Kevin. Make the call, orders Dick. Edgar calls and says, release her–but stress the consequences of talking. Kevin, says Dick, I’m going to request the pleasure of your company a tad longer, says Dick. He orders Edgar to drop in on an old friend. 
 
So, says Crowley, that’s what all the rumble rumble was about–who translated it for you? Never mind, says Dean–you gonna give us the blood or not? Happily, says Crowley, but not quite yet. I’m all for chopping Dick, but I can’t have you walking around with a vial of my blood now, can I? You know the sheer number of nefarious spells my enemies can use that blood for? Blood when? asks Dean. Last, answers Crowley, after you’ve gotten all the other components–most difficult, the angel part, I’m assuming, given your role in their little apocalypse–I can’t imagine the choirboys upstairs are wetting their vestments to do you, what’s the word–a solid–unless, of course, you have an angel up your sleeve. That’d be convenient, agrees Dean, but, uh, no. Don’t worry about it, says Sam, we’ll get the angel blood one way or another–we just need you to be ready next time we call. Fine, says Crowley–I have it on good authority there’s still one Alpha left among us. Whose authority? asks Dean. Mine, says Crowley–wily character, that Alpha Vampire, he somehow made good his prison break before Cas went nuclear on the place. And you know this how? asks Dean. Keep your friends close, your enemies blah blah,  says Crowley, needless to say, I keep tabs–he moves around quite a bit, but I have an inkling I know where to start the Easter egg hunt–happy trails. He disappears. Okay, where, jackass? demands Dean, irritated. The table erupts into flames, and inside them, the words Hoople, North Dakota appear. A piece of paper would have worked, says Dean. (I had a neighbor next door who called everyone she thought stupid hooples. She thought all her sons and daughters-in-law, all of whom hailed from Nebraska, were hooples. She used to call someone hoople out of the corner of her mouth, sending me into gales of laughter.)

 
Hoople Gas n Go – Sam makes a gesture at Dean, who takes Bobby’s flask out of his pocket and puts it in the car. Of course he seemed angry, Dean tells Sam, if you were Bobby, wouldn’t you be? Was he showing signs of fatigue? asks Sam. Just the opposite, says Dean, he said he never felt stronger. That’s what I was afraid of, says Sam, the closer he gets,the closer he comes to becoming full vengeful spirit–that’s reality. We’ve gotta talk about what we’re gonna do with him. Do with him? repeats Dean–what does that mean?–three weeks ago, you were talkin’ how this could work, now you want to go Kevorkian on his ass? I’m sayin’, the lore doesn’t have a single example of Casper the friendly ghost, says Sam, it’s all just poltergeists until a hunter comes along. . .  The lore sucks, says Dean. I’m talkin’ pure hatred, says Sam, no humanity, he could kill, possess people, Bobby could burn this friggin’ building down. look, if he goes off the rails. . .  Hey, says Dean, check out that guy over there. He indicates a man slathering a ton of mustard on a hot dog. Does he seem a little out of it to you? I dunno, says Sam, maybe. What about Paula Deen over here? asks Dean, indicating a woman staring into a display case filled with Red Bulls. Another man is drinking a huge drink at the drink station. They’re like those Turducken people, observes Sam. He and his brother pick up a package of food and check the ingredients. It’s the corn syrup, realizes Sam, everything in the store is laced with it! Everything? asks Dean, gazing at the man still pouring mustard on his hot dog. I’m gonna go into toxic shock, says Dean, I need my road food! That’s what Dick Roman is banking on, says Sam. Dean shows Sam a package that says natural–that means it’s safe, right? I hate to break it to you, says Sam, but corn syrup IS natural, technically. Then what the hell are we supposed to eat? demands Dean. Sam shows him his basket, which contains water and bananas. 
 
Sam and Dean, Bobby in the backseat, are watching a house. It’s too dark to see anything, complains Dean. Should we wait for daylight? asks Sam. Hell, no, we’re not waitin’, insists Bobby, I’ll scout it. Dean checks through binoculars, sees nothing. Bobby reappears in the back seat. 
 
Sam and Dean enter the house and find three bodies lying on the dining room table. Careful, cautions Dean, taking out his knife. Their lower faces look as if they’ve been destroyed by acid.           
 
You know a way to kill vamps with battery acid? asks Dean. Only way I know is beheading, answers Bobby. Something didn’t agree with them, says Sam–hey, check out that wall, something seem weird to you? See if you can find a switch or lever or something, says Dean. Bobby just walks right through the wall, since he’s a ghost, and finds a young girl. Sam and Dean locate a button and push it, opening the bookcase and giving them admittance. Seeing the scared young girl, they quickly sheathe their machetes. We’re not gonna hurt you, promises Dean–look, no fangs. We just wanna talk, says Sam. Tapping on the rim of a pretty cup, the girl says, I was right, my mom left me at the playground while she ran to the store–a man approached me and said I was the prettiest girl there–and I’ve been living with these THINGS ever since–at least until now. Do you have any idea why? asks Sam. I’m one of his special girls, she says, all the other ones, it was their job to make sure I was ready for the Alpha whenever he came–wash me, give me my IV bags everyday–it’s my only food–so my blood’s pure. And they’ve been doing this for what, 12 years? asks Dean. Virgins are a delicacy, she says, he always has at least one of us on hand. Don’t worry, okay, Sam assures her, we’ll get you back to your mother. Do you think she remembers me? the girl asks hopefully. Of course she does, says Sam, don’t you remember her? She sadly shakes her head. Pointing to the bodies on the table, Dean asks, these guys, friends of yours? They take care of the Alpha when he’s here, she explains, or did. What happened? asks Dean. A week ago, they came back from what they said was an easy hunt, she says, three humans just came, didn’t put up any fight–but when they started on them, the vampires screamed in pain. The ones who ate died immediately. And the ones who didn’t? asks Sam. There was only one, she says, when he saw what happened, he moved to animals; he’s out hunting as we speak. Never heard of vamps being allergic to animals before, says Dean. You think maybe it’s the corn syrup? suggests Sam–think about it, that Gas n Sip was lousy with stoners, all ripe for the picking. She did say it was an easy hunt, says Dean. You know where the Alpha is now? asks Sam. I dunno, she says–maybe–he has a place where he goes when something’s wrong–he calls it his retreat. Sam takes out his cell phone. That’s Sam’s douche tracker, says Dean, helps us find the Alpha–all we need is an address. I don’t know, she says, I remember things, maybe they can help. (I’m not sure what she said here.) Just do the best that you can, says Sam. She smiles, playing with her necklace.

 
A vamp enters the pretty pink bedroom to be met by Edgar. The vamp’s fangs appear. Finally, you run out of magazines–where’s your boss? The vamp attacks Edgar, who crushes his hand. Let’s try that again, says Edgar, where is he? Go to hell! says the vamp. No, our neighborhood is worse than there, says Edgar. He takes on the face and voice of the vamp, saying “Was that so hard?” It sounds like he breaks off the vamp’s entire arm.
 
Carrying a bag of fruits and vegetables from a store, Dean complains, “I can’t live like this! I can’t live on rabbit food, I’m a warrior!” “Dean, you’ll be fine,” Sam assures him. “You don’t know that,” says Dean. “What’s next on the list?” Sam asks. “If we’re gonna wrestle the Alpha, we’re gonna need dead man’s blood, says Dean, which means a  morgue or. . .” He spies a hefty man sitting on a park bench adorned with a Biggerson’s ad, finishing up a drink. Forget the morgue, says Dean, we are swimming in vamp poison. Sam tells him they’re with the Red Cross and there’s an emergency blood shortage, and. . .you’re not getting a word I’m saying, are you? Hold out your arm, we need your blood, says Dean. Dude! chastises Sam, but the man sticks out his arm, no questions asked. Everyone’s hopped up on the brown acid, says Dean, taking out a big hypodermic needle, we don’t need a song and dance–just give him a little prick. Dean throws an arm around the guy, who is still sucking up his drink, and all he says when Sam sticks the needle into a vein in his hand is “That hurts,” and not very loudly, either. “This is for Hurricane Katrina, you said?” the guy asks. “Yes, yes I did,” says Dean, smiling. So look, when we get there, says Sam, the needle topper in his mouth, Bobby’s going to have to hang back–do you disagree? He ain’t gonna like it, says Dean, he helped us getting Emily. I’m Team Bobby, too, says Sam, okay, but there’s a reason we left him in the car with Emily, you know that, the more action he sees, the more chance he gets to spin out. All right, fine, agrees Dean, we’ll keep him off the front lines and he can just keep calm and carry on. A police car comes by, siren on, right behind their bench. “Why Can’t We Be Friends” plays on the radio and the affected cop is firing off his siren in rhythm to the song.  Sam hastily gathers up the blood-filled needle and caps it. The guy between them continues to suck up his soda and Sam and Dean smile innocently. 

 
When they hauled you off to Vamp Camp, do you remember how long it was? Dean asks Emily. We left at night, got in before dawn, Emily answers. So six, seven hours? asks Sam. I think so, yes, she says. Do you remember any highways? asks Sam. No, we only took back roads, she replies. They figure it couldn’t have been more than 300 miles. She apologizes for not knowing what direction they were going. That’s okay, says Sam, you’re doing great. I remember as we pulled up, I heard these loud bells, says Emily. Too early to be a church, says Sam, could have been a monastery, monks get up at 4 AM to pray. Yuck, says Dean, can’t get laid, can’t sleep in, a freakin’ tragedy. So, says Sam, Alphas campin’ next to a. . .  monkey house, finishes Dean–tell me we got range. They’re just outside of Missoula, MT. This is where he took me, says Emily. Are you sure? asks Sam. She nods. What now? she asks. We get you someplace safe, circle back and Ginsu these leeches, says Dean. He turns on the car. 
 
Holed up in a motel, Dean hands Sam the hypo filled with “10 cc’s of vamptonite–it’s a thing.” “What’s a Kardashian?” asks Emily, who’s sitting on the bed watching TMZ on FOX. “Just another bloodsucker,” says Dean–“No, it’s a joke.” (LMAO!) “Here, if we’re not back by dawn, call this number, Jody Mills,” says Sam, giving her a piece of paper, “she’s a friend, she’ll take care of you. Use this phone.” Dean puts it in the safe “for your own good, capiche?” Sam, thank you,” Emily says. “You bet,” Sam says. When Dean opens the door to leave, the door is pulled from his hand and slammed shut. It was the wind, he assures Emily. She nods nervously. Chill out, Bobby, we’ll be back soon, Dean assures the ghost. This time, they’re able to leave, but Bobby is glowering and shaking his head. They run into the maid as they’re leaving. 
 
Emily tosses the phone number Sam gave her into the fire and dials “Daddy” on her cell phone. “Why you little schemer,” accuses Bobby, who she apparently can’t see or hear. “No, I’m close by,” says Emily, “sending you a present.” She opens the door and leaves the room. On TV, Gloria James is saying “That’s Dick Roman–yesterday I introduced you to the surprising star–in this hour we’ll go behind the scenes and answer the question everyone’s been asking for months: ‘What makes Dick so hard to beat?'” (Can we ever get enough of the Dick jokes? I can’t!) Bobby, watching, sneers, “You son of a bitch!”
 
Parked in front of the mansion where the Alpha is holed up, Dean says, This time of day, most of them will be catching zzzzzz’s–they won’t know what hit ’em–hey, you with me? Yeah, answers Sam. But? asks Dean. You sure you just want to bust in there, machetes blazing? asks Sam–last time it took a dozen hunters to take down the Alpha, and most of them didn’t make it out. You got a better idea? asks Dean. 

 
The two of them walk up to the house, Dean muttering “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Sam holds up a warning hand. Sam finds the door unlocked and just pushes it open. Maybe we’re too late, says Dean. He sees his brother grabbed by a vamp. SAM! he calls, but he is nabbed by a second vamp seconds later.
 
Dick is speaking on TV. You know, where I’m from, you have to bite and claw your way to the top. Once you get there, trust me, the view is incredible. With Dick talking on the TV behind him, Bobby is trying to figure out what code Sam or Dean used to lock the the combo locker of the hotel safe. As his attempts fail, over and over, his anger topples a lamp, opens a drawer and sends the flame in the fireplace roaring higher. He tries their birthdays, no go. Hearing the commotion, the cleaning lady knocks and enters, asking if everyone is okay in there, shivering in the aftermath of Bobby’s ghostliness. It suddenly hits Bobby–MY birthday! He asks for her help. Get away from me! she commands him. Listen, I need outta here! he insists, tackling, then entering her. “Just need you a little while,” says Bobby, now possessing the maid, “just till I get the bastard.” Bobby opens the safe, takes out the cell phone and leaves. 
 
Sam and Dean are delivered to the Alpha vampire. The Winchesters, he says, I’m intrigued. Emily enters. You were gonna hurt my Daddy, she says, caressing his shoulder. You get a trophy at Stockholm Syndrome, says Dean–sorry to burst your bubble, but we weren’t–Sam here had a better idea. We’re here to talk, says Sam, that’s it. Why would I? asks the Alpha–because you captured me? tortured me?–sold me to the King of Hell? That was more Grandpa, quips Dean. A guard vamp pushes Dean down, causing his mouth to bleed. Thank you, that was awesome, says Dean. If I were to peel off your faces and drink you slowly, says the Alpha. Listen, you need us, insists Sam. Yes, I am thirsty! says the vamp. The Plague! says Sam–we know what it is!–what do you know about Leviathan? A bit, says the Alpha Vamp. Do you know they’re poisoning the food supply? asks Sam. Roman didn’t mention that when we met for dinner last fall, says the Alpha–we made lots of plans–we are on excellent terms, he and I. You sure about that? asks Dean–did he mention that he was going to Maui Waui the human population? Of course, says the vamp, he said grabbing a snack would be easier than ever. He said you’d all live together, didn’t he? asks Sam–you really believe him?–you think your children are dying by accident?–there’s pesticide in the formula! It suits you to think so, says the Alpha, you need me on your side. We’re not the ones burning from the inside out! barks Sam–think about it–whatever deal he made with you was crap!–trust us! Why are you telling me this? asks the Alpha. Because WE can stop Dick! insists Sam–stop all of it, we need your blood, for the weapon. Laughing, Alpha says, So now you want to prevent the extermination of the vampire race. No, admits Dean, but it beats going down with you. Allen, Emily, come, he says. A young boy enters the room and the Alpha speaks with him and Emily. And the creep gets creeper, Dean murmurs to Sam. What’s wrong? the Alpha asks Allen. Edgar’s here, the child tells the Alpha. The Alpha gestures the kid to go. Wow, what a funny coincidence, says Dean, all right, we need soap, cleanser, anything with Borax in it, and we need knives. Put them in the study, orders the Alpha. The brothers protests. Surprise, boys, you do not live through centuries of fire and ice and Continental Divide by jumping to conclusions. “You’re making a mistake!” calls Sam as he and his brother are dragged away–“Listen! Wait!” It never hurts to get the story first, says the Alpha. 

 
Sam and Dean are tossed into the study. “Hey!  Hey!! calls Dean, but to no avail. There’s a window and two empty bags of blood hanging up.
 
Sam tries the study door, but they are solidly locked in–anything? he asks Sam. Nothing, says Sam, who is checking a window–do you think Edgar is here for the same reason we are?–if they figured we’re here to get Alpha blood for a weapon. . .  I think any way you slice it, you got Pacman and True Blood in the same room, that’s bad news, and he’s not stupid, why the hell do you think he locked us in here?  (LOL!) We’re his enemy, says Sam–they’re like monster cousins or something–who would you give the benefit of the doubt to?–maybe the Sucro IS poisoning the vamps on accident, maybe they’ll fix it. I think you’ve got the oldest monster on earth thinkin’ he can hold his own because he always has, says Dean. Edgar’s gonna eat him alive, says Sam. Yeah, says Dean, taking hold of the needle end of the blood kit–do you think you could pick a lock with this? Sam can–but they gave up all their dead man’s blood tonight. Turns out Dean still has some tucked away in his boot.
 
Edgar, I would have whipped you up a meal, greets the Alpha. Please, sit–I’m dying to know why you’re here. I think you know, says Edgar. And how is that? asks the Alpha. I smell Sam and Dean Winchester, says Edgar. Do you want the boys? asks Alpha vamp–I’ll have them sent up. How kind of you, says Edgar. You do know why Sam and Dean are here, don’t you? asks the vamp–they insist that you’re exterminating us and I thought well, that’s impossible, must be a mistake. You’re right, of course, says Edgar. Alpha vamp and Emily both smile at Edgar. 
 
Sam and Dean head stealthily downstairs. When accosted by one of the good vamps, they give him a dose of dead man’s blood, felling him. Wow! says Dean. Vamptonite, says Sam. Friggin’ vamptonite, echoes Dean, impressed. We need knives, says Dean, there’s got to be a prep room or kitchen someplace. 
 
Here’s what I don’t understand, Edgar, you are aware that your little additive has side effects, yes? asks the Alpha vamp. Dick warned you there might be kinks, says Edgar. He also said he’d be in touch, says AV, slowly rounding the table toward Edgar, my children are in a panic–you don’t call, you don’t write, you don’t send cookies–where exactly on the list is fixing our Plague? Edgar takes three steps, bringing him face to face with the AV. My dear friend, he says, no where–we want you to burn like the little roaches you are. The AV reaches out a hand and pushes Edgar away. Roman said if I kept quiet, I would get my reward, says the AV warningly. And now you get to lay down and die, says Edgar–nothing personal, our additive kills the wolves, too, the shifters and those disgusting little things that eat corpses–anything with a taste for human–except us–mankind’s a limited resource, after all, Advancing on Edgar, AV says, there are seven BILLION of them. Only seven, says Edgar, pushing the AV, who immediately stands tall again. Emily cries out. We come from you, says the AV through clenched teeth. Barely, says Edgar. I am the son of Eve! says the AV angrily. A pathetic mutt, says Edgar, hardly one of us–I knew Eve, and honestly, your mommy was a whore. The Alpha vampire exposes his fangs, shoves Edgar against the wall, pulls the champagne from its silver holder and tosses its contents, obviously mixed with Borax, at Edgar, who coughs, blisters and punches the AV across the face. “Don’t squirm,” gasps Edgar, “I need every last drop.” He turns into a Leviathan gobbling machine, about to devour the AV, causing Emily to cover her face in horror. Dean comes after Edgar with a knife, but is quickly disarmed and grabbed by the lapels; Sam, from behind, beheads him in a smooth, perfect cut. “Grab a glass, we’re juicing this freak,” orders Dean. “NO!” screams Emily, advancing on them. “Stay back!” orders Dean. The AV tosses Dean over the desk into the wall. “Leave her alone,” the AV says, “she’s been through quite enough.” Dean climbs unsteadily to his feet. “That’s rich,” says Sam, “coming from the guy who took her off the swing set.” “Do you wanna do this fight?” asks the AV–“or do you want my blood?” He sits down, rights a fallen glass, opens an artery in his wrist and lets his blood spill into the glass as Dean, Sam and Emily watch. He holds out the glass. “For taking care of Edgar–now GO,” he orders. “What about the little boy?” asks Sam. “Are you joking?” huffs the AV. “Does it look like we’re joking?” asks Dean–“how many kids you got in here, you freak?” “At the moment, just him,” answers the AV, assessing their faces–“Emily, help Allen with his coat, he’s leaving with Sam and Dean.” She nods and goes. “Now take it,” repeats the AV, still holding out the blood-filled glass. Sam accepts it. The brothers start to leave. “What, no thank you?” asks the AV–“oh, right, right, your flesh is crawling–all you really want to do is kill me now–you hate having to wait and come back and try again.” (said through gritted teeth) “Pretty much,” agrees Dean, then points to Edgar’s head, warning, “I wouldn’t leave that head too close to that body for too long.” “See you next season,” says the AV. (I just bet we will, now that we have a go for season 8!) “Lookin’ forward to it,” says Dean, and the go, the latter with his sword, Sam with the glass of blood.

 
“Let’s never do that again,” says Dean, “cops thought we took that kid.” “As long as he gets back to his folks, I don’t care what they thought,” says Sam. “I was about to jump out a freakin’ window, man,” says Dean. They both pull out their guns when they see the door is open.  They see how trashed the room is. “Bobby,” calls Dean, twice. They notice the safe has been open. “He’s gone,” says Sam. and the phone inside is gone. They examine the room. “I’m gettin’ trace bits of EMF, but it’s fading fast,” says Sam, “Bobby’s probably been gone three or four hours–he’s got the flask, Dean, how the hell are we supposed to track him? I hate to say this, but. . .”  “Then don’t,” says Dean shortly–“he’s gone–how could he do this?–now?–I mean we got half the freakin’ weapon, we’re almost there.” “It’s not him,” says Sam, “he’s not thinking.” “So what,” says Dean, “we just keep going while he’s out there like this?” “Do we have any other option?” asks Sam–“I mean, it’s what he’d want us to do–right?” “Yeah, says Dean, “him and Frank and Cas–if his marbles were in the bag. It’s a good thing we’ve got Crowley in our corner, right?–seein’ as how it all comes down to him–what could possibly go wrong?” 
 
Dick Roman summons Crowley. “Hello. . .DICK,” says the latter.looking over his head into a giant red and black Devil’s Trap imbedded into the ceiling. “Mr. Crowley, we have so much to talk about,” says Dick Roman, “take a seat.” He gives Crowley the patented, smarmy Dick Roman grin.             
 
Oh, dear, Crowley is Dick Roman’s prisoner, Bobby has possessed an innocent and is clearly on his way to becoming a vengeful, poltergeist-type ghost the brothers are going to have to do away with, and the powerful Alpha vamp has promised to be around for next season. It doesn’t sound like anything is coming up roses for the Winchester brothers, does it? No. They were able to free Allen, but had to leave Emily with the Alpha Vamp, and that surely must have upset the brothers. Although it seems they are well on their way to putting together the necessary weapon to slay Dick, they need Crowley’s blood, but once they get it, don’t they still need the bone of a righteous person–and doesn’t it seem they will need to get that little item from Kevin?  Will they have to kill him to get it?  Or will he already be dead by the time they find him?  This isn’t shaping up to be their easiest quest, is it?
 
Questions:
 
I didn’t enjoy this episode as much as last week’s, even though I liked the Alpha Vamp a lot.  I give it a 7.  What grade did you give this one?
 
I think it’s a little soon for Bobby to be turning into a nasty poltergeist, don’t you? I thought it took years, even centuries for ghosts to become evil. It’s happening so quickly to Bobby. Who else thinks it’s too soon?
 
I was thrilled to see Sam and Dean defeat Edgar after he proved to the Alpha Vamp that what they had accused him of was true.  Of course, I would have loved for the AV to bite Edgar on the throat, given that Edgar was going to gobble up the AV in one swallow.  It would have been fair, right?  Food for food, so to speak?  The beheading wasn’t nearly as fun, somehow, as the AV gnawing on Edgar’s throat would have been.
 
Emily annoyed me. Did she annoy you, too?  I know, she was Daddy’s little girl and all that crap, but still. I wanted to see her get punished somehow, the little bitch.
 
What do you think is going to happen next week?  I have no idea, as I’m spoiler free, and I’m hoping for BIG cliffhangers!
 
Happy Mother’s Day, if you’re a mom or feel like one! 
 

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