Back at Dick’s HQ, Kevin is typing the translation into a laptop.
Dick: That’s some racey prose you’re putting down there, Kevin.
Kevin finishes and asks that his mom be freed. Edgar calls and says to release her, but to, “…stress the consequences of talking….” Any other Hunger Games readers out there immediately picture the Avox? *shudders*
Dick tells Kevin he’s going to keep him around awhile, and orders Edgar to “drop in on an old friend.”
Back at the cabin, the boys have apparently broken it down for Crowley about the tablet – but won’t tell him who translated it for them.
Dean: You gonna give us the blood or not?
Crowley: Happily. But not quite yet. I’m all for choppin’ Dick, but I can’t have you running around with a vial of my blood, now, can I?
Sam = ??
Me, too, honestly, until Crowley says that all sorts of nefarious spells could be conducted with his blood and I felt the storyteller in me sit up and take notes.
Crowley: Last. After you’ve got all the others. Most difficult? The angel blood, I’m assuming.
The boys just look at him. I loved it.
Crowley: Given all the trouble you’ve caused, I can’t imagine the boys upstairs are up to doing you a ‘solid.’ Unless, of course, you have an angel up your sleeve.
Dean (protecting Cas to the end): That’d be convenient, but, no.
Sam: Don’t worry about it. We’ll get the angel blood one way or another. We need you to be ready next time we call.
Crowley: Fine. Oh, here’s a tip. I have it on good authority there’s on Alpha still among us.
Dean: Who’s authority?
Crowley (a beat): Mine.
He tells them how the Alpha vamp made a jailbreak before Cas nuked the jail and he knows it in a keep your friends close, enemies closer kind of way. Dean’s tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip as he’s listening, and it’s this subconscious move of his that I totally love. Sue me.
Crowley knows where to start hunting, wishes them happy trails and then poof! He’s gone.
Dean (yelling): Where, jackass?!
The table behind them suddenly flames up and the words Hoopal, North Dakota are burned into the surface.
Dean: Piece of paper would’ve worked.
Yes, but then it just wouldn’t be Crowley. Also? I have to think that finding the bone of a human who is as light as the Leviathans are dark is going to be pretty dang challenging, too. Since they didn’t repeat the term “righteous mortal” again, I am releasing my Dean theory (though would still really love him to be the catalyst in some way), but am really wondering who they’re going to dig up.
So, in Hoopal, they’re gassing up the Plymouth, and Dean’s leaning against the trunk monitoring the pump and he’s wearing a new leather jacket – as in, not John’s – with the collar popped in that way he has and I think I may have whimpered just a teensy bit. *ahem* Sam’s leaning against the passenger and gets Dean’s attention, making a ‘drink’ sign. Dean pulls out the flask, looks at it a moment, then puts it in the car and shuts the door.
They start to head toward the quick shop and Sam asks him about Bobby – did he seem angry, tired? Dean’s like, yeah, he was angry, but wouldn’t you be? And no, not tired. Says he never felt stronger.
Sam: That’s what I was afraid of.
They head inside, grabbing wire baskets, and start walking down the aisle, filling the baskets up. Sam’s talking in a low, urgent tone and Dean’s listening, his lips tight.
Sam: The stronger he gets, the closer he comes to going full vengeful spirit. That’s reality. We need to talk about what we’re gonna do with him.
Dean (surprised): Do with him? Three weeks ago you were talking about how this could work. And now you want to go Kavorkian on his ass?
I had the same reaction, but then after a beat, I got where Sam was coming from. He’s always been the hopeful one. The one who thinks what if this could work. But he’s also practical, and the last thing he wants is to feel responsible for Bobby hurting someone (or worse) because he was hopeful that they might be able to keep their Uncle Bobby around for awhile. The minute Bobby showed signs of ghost-wear, Sam’s steel-trap of a mind clamped down on the logical next step. He just has to get his heart to accept it…and then his brother. And that last part is going to be hard because Dean knew what was going to happen the moment they realized Bobby was really real – he never had that hope. Until Sam offered it to him.
Sam: Nowhere in the lore is there a real-life example of Casper the Friendly ghost (because you can bet he looked for it). It’s all poltergeist until a hunter comes along –
Dean: Yeah, well. The lore sucks.
He’s listening to Sam, but something catches his eye.
Sam (continues, oblivious to the fact that Dean’s eyes aren’t on him anymore): I’m talking pure hatred. No humanity. He could kill, possess people. Could burn this whole freaking building down.
Dean nods behind Sam. There’s a guy putting a lot of mustard on his hot dog.
Dean: Check out that guy over there. He seem a little out of it to you?
Sam (glancing over his shoulder): Uh…maybe?
They look around, seeing the rest of the patrons just kinda…wandering, staring blankly into the coolers, looking totally stoned. Sam makes the connection to the turducken and the boys start looking at the ingredients on the food in their baskets. Everything is laced with the high fructose corn syrup.
Dean (a little bleat): Everything?
He starts to pace a little.
Dean: I’m going to go into toxic shock. I need my road food!
Sam: That’s what Roman is banking on.
Dean (picking up a pie): This one says natural. That means it’s safe, right?
Sam takes it from him and puts it back saying that corn syrup is natural. Kinda.
Dean: What are we supposed to eat?!
Sam holds up his basket with bananas and bottles of water. Poor, poor Dean.
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