So, while the boys are hashing out the merits of conversing with The New Boss, Crowley is hiding out in an anti-angel sigil-covered motor home with Tennessee plates, wearing some comfy looking leather slippers, sipping some whiskey, and listening to Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Are Made For Walking.” On his TV is a news report of a leper colony in India that was miraculously healed. Honestly? I didn’t realize there still were leper colonies.
Cas shows up, saying he’s always known where Crowley is, and Crowley offers him a drink, which Cas refuses.
Crowley: Can’t blame a girl for trying.
He prepares to be smited, spreading his arms wide, turning his head, and scrunching up his face. High. Larious. Cas, though, says he’s not going to kill him—he’s got plans for him.
Cas wants Crowley back on the throne as King of Hell—only Cas will control the soul traffic.
Hell’s being downsized, but not eliminated because Cas still needs a threat to keep his peeps (aka mankind) in line. Plus…Cas needs to keep Michael in Lucifer’s cage. Which…why, I wonder. If he’s God…he couldn’t possibly be threatened by his big brother. Could he? Oooo…maybe rescuing Michael from the cage could come in handy down the road…. *ponders*
Anyway, big news is that Cas’ skin is getting sores on it much like Nick The Vessel did with Lucifer inside of him. Not good.
Back at Bobby’s, Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table, reading, and getting twitchy. I have to say that his did I just hear/see something wigginess started to make me wiggy. I kept glancing over my shoulder. And there’s a wall behind me.
Chains suddenly shoot out of the ceiling, wrap around his neck, and yank him up to the ceiling, choking him. Right when you think it’s curtains for Sam (again) he jerks awake. Just a dream. *whew*
He calls out for Dean, then for Bobby and gets no answer because they’re out in the garage taping up the Impala and getting it ready to paint. And Dean’s wearing coveralls. Again. *bites lip*
Rather proud of himself, Dean’s like, “I should do this professionally.” Hee. I like it when he takes pride in something.
Bobby starts questioning him about Sam—how is Sam even vertical, that sort of thing. Dean says Sam is okay…he just prays to God it’s true.
Bobby: We need to come up with a new saying.
Hah! No worries, Bobby. Fandom has you covered.
It’s interesting to me how they pace out the ‘we need to have some exposition about this’ types of conversation. I mean, as we watched Sam head out to the garage, I knew he was heading out there to tell them about his dream/hallucinations because he’d been seriously wigged out, but I also knew that he’d overhear some kind of confession of Dean’s that would make him check himself and not say anything…again.
I mean, on one hand? It’s Sam’s M.O. If there’s nothing that can be done (in his estimation) why say anything and worry Dean more? But on the other hand? It’s been done a little much. And I would think these two would learn from that.
So, I hope that now that the cat’s outta the bag, when it comes to big things (like not being able to tell what’s real and what’s not), they need to talk to each other. Both of them. Dean’s far from exempt. Some day, he’s going to have to talk about Hell. Some day, he’s going to have to talk about his ongoing drive to pickle his liver. Some day, he’s going to have to turn that release valve. And I think if anyone would get it? It would be Sam. He shouldn’t feel he has to protect Sam from him forever.
*steps off soapbox*
So, with Sam in the doorway out of eye line, but within ear shot, Dean confesses that he doesn’t really believe Sam’s okay basically because they never get a break. He’s not gonna get his hopes up just to “get kicked in the Daddy pills again.” Sam shows up and, predictably, doesn’t tell them about the choke chain dream, but instead says that Cas’ body count is rising.
Bobby: We gotta hunt the son of a bitch. Unfortunately, I lost my ‘God gun.’
Sam, grasping at straws, is like, what about a weapon in Balty’s arsenal. Dean’s like, it’s God, dude. There’s no thing…but there might be someone….
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