Slumber Party

Episode Report Card
Tippi Blevins: C | 174 USERS: C+
Monkeys Fly Out of the Hardy Boys' Butts

A few moments later, a young woman dressed like Amelia Earhart walks in, dragging a long, heavy bag behind her. How did she get in? She must not have had a key if she needed a password. Do the MOL just leave the door unlocked whenever they're inside? The lady looks kind of crabby. "Holy buckets," Jenkins breathes. "It's really you!" She says, with undisguised annoyance, "That's right, rookie, it's really me -- Dorothy." The bag at her feet begins to grumble and move about. "Now, which one of you geniuses is gonna help me kill the Wicked Witch?" she asks with a smirk. Supernatural has wings!

In the present day, Crowley has been ensconced in the dungeon for so long that he cringes away from the light when Sam opens the doors. "Hallo, Moose!" Sam ignores the greeting and slides a piece of paper across the table along with a crayon. "You want more demon names," Crowley guesses. He tries to bargain: "I want a room with a view." He crumples up the paper and gets into position to gloat, but Sam just turns on his heel and walks out. "We can discuss this!" Crowley calls after him. "I'd settle for stretching my legs!" Sam ignores him and turns off the lights, immersing the King of Hell in darkness once more. "Bollocks," comes the defeated whisper.

Sam has buried himself in research by the time Dean returns from his latest road trip. "How'd it go with Kevin?" Sam asks. "Well, that little nerd is in a lovely warded motel room in Branson," Dean says. "He's got about 48 hours of paid-for porn and Kenny Rogers ahead of him." What a horrible, horrible combination. Also, what the hell, Show? Two weeks ago it was all, "Demons and angels will hunt you down the second you step two inches out the door!" And now it's like, "Oh, sure, go spend a weekend in Branson, some 500 miles away!" This is going to end with a demonic Kenny Rogers kidnapping Kevin, isn't it? Sigh. Anyway, with Kevin on vacation, Dean thought it might be nice to take a little break, too. It's not like there are a thousand angels and demons out there, not to mention a toothpaste-eating, no-condom-using Castiel wandering the streets that they need to worry about. "I picked you up season one of Game of Thrones," Dean says, even though he totally got it for himself. We all remember how much you liked playing dress-up, Dean.

Sam's down with the GoT marathon, but... "I think I may have found a way to help Cass," he says. Dean gets all nervous because he's worried Sam may have actually talked to their formerly angelic friend. But no, not only did Sam not talk to him recently, he also apparently didn't talk to him before he left. He doesn't understand why Castiel had to go. "This is the safest place for him," he points out. "Bartholomew and who knows how many other angels are out there, gunning for him!" Dean stalls by peeling off three layers of jackets. "He thought he'd bring trouble down on us," he says. "But if you have a way to help him, I'm all ears." If the writers can't figure out how to have Misha Collins in every episode, they really need to come up with slightly better lies for Dean to cover his ass with. Like, hey, it turns out Castiel is a Shame-level sex addict and has to Fassbender his way across the country, and no amount of pleading with him could make him stay. But kicking him out of the safest place on earth with lame excuses? Dumb.

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