I’m No Angel

Episode Report Card
Tippi Blevins: B- | 112 USERS: B
The Hardy Boys and the Case of the Handsome Hobo

Sam slumps back into his usual posture and resumes their conversation where he last left off. "I mean, Cass is human now," he says. "It's gonna take him a lot longer to travel." It's 400 miles from Longmont, Colorado to Lebanon, Kansas. He should have been able to scoot that distance on his butt cheeks in less time! But of course, Sam doesn't know that the angels are after Castiel, because he was in that soap-opera coma while all of that was going on in the hospital. Sam doesn't see the urgency of the situation, but Dean probably should have been a little more worried even without Zeke's bad news. Dean struggles to keep his conversations organized. "So, I was thinking that if the angels are organizing, that makes them a lot more dangerous than we thought." Sam cocks his head like a confused labradoodle. "Why do you think they're organizing?" he asks. Dean makes a series of awkward faces while his brain races to come up with a response. "It makes sense," he finally says. "My point is that the more of them that are after Cass, the worse it is, so we gotta find him." Sam nods because, hey, it's not like they haven't hit the road on far weaker suspicions before.

In some random drugstore, a pharmacist slacks off on his job so he can watch a podcast on his phone. This is how people end up with the wrong prescriptions! And also possessed. Standing in front of a backdrop of heavenly glowing clouds, the Reverend Buddy Boyle preaches to his podcast viewers. "A legion of angels reaches out for us! Can you feel their dee-vine presence? And if ya do, it's nuthin' to fear! If angels come a-knockin', you just let 'em on in and fill yourself up with their grace!" The pharmacist nods and smiles like this is the best thing he's seen online since Grumpy Cat.

Cut to Buddy's office, where he's just finishing up his latest recording. "Beautiful, Buddy," a fellow says off-screen. "One of your best." Buddy steps out from behind his podium in his ill-fitting polyester suit and beams with pride. "Well, that is high praise coming from you," Buddy says, "seeing as how you're an emissary of the man upstairs Himself!" He adds, "Thank you, Bart," which makes this emissary cringe. "It's Bartholomew," he reminds Buddy, clearly suppressing the desire to snap his fingers and wish Buddy out of existence. Bart – I'm going to call you Bart – looks like the lovechild of Yellow Eyes and Dick Roman. "God has assured me he is highly pleased with your work," Bart says. "He prepareth a special reward for helping him populate a true Heaven on Earth." Buddy just about bursts into tears of joy. He's a televangelist, but he seems more genuine than much of his ilk. Still, he's not going to turn down whatever fancy reward the Lord prepareth for him.

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