Dean: We could read this ‘til our eyes bleed. Ain’t getting any clearer.
He leans forward and rubs his eyes. Sam’s like, okay, then, what does it mean?
Dean: Cut off the head and the body will flounder.
He says the head is Dick and that they need to grab the stuff, mix up a weapon. End of story. He sits back sipping a beer – El Sol. Nice. *smiles*
I have to say that I thought maybe the whole ‘chop off the head’ thing was more…direct than that. Meaning that the only way they’ve been able to stop the Leviathans permanently was to behead them. But, I like the idea that they kill Dick and the rest of them will die much better.
Sam’s all for killing Dick, but he’s like, what then? The rest just…drop dead?
Sam: Maybe? Maybe is good enough for you right now?
Dean: One problem at a time.
Sam: Okay, but it’s not a crazy idea to find out what the catch is before we go crashing the gate.
Dean (picking comp book back up): Maybe this is the catch. God’s not telling us every detail. The Word is from God. I don’t know how much better it’s gonna git. [Little bit o’ Texas drawl slipped out with that line.]
I think he might be onto something there. I have a feeling there’s going to be something in the way the weapon is interpreted or some little nuance that’s going to come out that the boys didn’t see…I’m cautious.
Bobby is watching them talk from behind the couch, his eyes on Dean and the book. Dean goes into the bathroom and is brushing his teeth. As he rinses his mouth out, his breath comes out frosty and the mirror frosts over. He stands up slowly and turns, schooling his features.
Dean: Hey, Bobby. (lips tremble slightly as he figures out the right thing to say) How ya feeling?
Bobby says he feels stronger than ever and that he’s been thinking about the weapon. Dean suggests he save his strength – he doesn’t look so hot. Bobby’s like, I’m in the veil; my Brad Pitt days are over. He starts to break down the recipe for the weapon – more for us, I think, than for Dean who’d read the translation cover to cover multiple times.
So, they need a human bone washed in the three bloods of the fallen. It has to be a human that’s as light and good as the Leviathans are hungry and dark.
Dean: Yeah. Good luck with that.
Aside – this is one of those places where his green, green eyes just hit me. Yowza.
Bobby goes on to say that while that might be hard to get, the other stuff was doable. They already had angel blood; they needed blood from the ruler of fallen humanity, which is obviously Crowley. And then the father of fallen beasts.
I liked how Dean eyes the doorway at this point, looking for Sam. Just…staying wary.
Dean: Which means?
Bobby: You gotta bleed an Alpha.
Dean: They’re all dead. Every one we found, we rounded up for Crowley and then Cas whammied them all.
Bobby: Make this Cas’ problem, too.
Dean (lips going tight): Cas isn’t in the problem-solving mode.
Bobby: Then Crowley!
Dean (sighing): All right, I get it, I get it…
Bobby (bellowing): DO YOU?!
The mirror behind Dean cracks. Dean turns, startled. Bobby reigns himself in, looking contrite. When he speaks again, his voice is controlled, softened.
Bobby: Just saying…I have faith you boys’ll figure it out.
Dean nods cautiously, his eyes tipping down at the corners with worry.
Bobby: Relax. I’m fine. Just got a little carried away.
Dean looks at the cracked mirror again. Back in the kitchen, Sam’s watching an infomercial on Sucracorp on his laptop. Dean comes in and pours himself a shot of whiskey in a high-ball glass, then leans in and says quietly to Sam, “Little FYI? Bobby’s off singing at the John these days.”
Dean: You’re telling me.
He tells Sam that Bobby has some ideas about the weapon. Sam shows him the laptop and the article that says Roman Enterprises acquired Sucracorp. Tells him that Sucracorp makes high fructose corn syrup and it’s in everything: soda, sauces, bread….
Dean: Don’t say pie.
Sam: Definitely pie.
Dean comments that Dick has moved past restaurants and wants to know what they can do about it.
Sam: Short of going Al Qaeda on their trucks and plants, there’s nothing we can do about it –
The laptop monitor suddenly slams shut causing both boys (and me) to jump. They exchange a look. Dean clears his throat.
Dean: Like I said…Bobby’s got some ideas.
At this point, I got a Very Bad Feeling About This in the pit of my stomach – and I don’t mean Bobby’s ideas. I mean Bobby, period.
SO, Dean cuts his hand, Sam Latinates, they do a flash-fire-bowl-ritual-thing, and voila! Crowley. Hee. I missed him, oddly enough.
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