Episode Report Card
Demian: D | 5 USERS: A
The Hardy Boys Waste An Hour Of Our Lives

By getting sloppy on some off-brand whiskey and drunk-dialing Bobby, of course! "Atta girl! [Slurp!]" "And then Dean just walks right out the door, with Crowley!" Drunk Sammy whines. "He's so mean to me sometimes!" Bobby, clearly as tired of this bullshit as I am, wearily takes a slug of scotch and agrees that yes, Dean can be so mean to Sam sometimes, but he's probably just saying that to get the gigantic boozy mess with the tragic hair off the goddamned phone already. Unfortunately for both of us, Drunk Sam takes Bobby's response as license to babble about the astoundingly stupid idea the alcohol just gave him, which goes a little like this: Remember when Bobby got his damn fool self possessed, and then wrested control of his body from the demon in question long enough to jam The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't into his hefty beer gut, thereby severing his spinal cord? Yeah, well, Drunk Sam's decided that if Bobby can do that, so can he, and he's now determined to say yes to Satan, just so he can then wrest control of his body back from the fallen archangel in question long enough to leap into that divinely constructed cage deep beneath the ruins of St. Mary's Convent, after which Bobby and Dean will seal the cage with The Horsemen's rings, thereby leaving Darling Sammy and Lucifer to rot with each other for all eternity. In Maryland. "[Shudder!] [Slurp!] [Shudder!]" Needless to say, Bobby vociferously opposes this astoundingly stupid idea in the hoariest language imaginable, because Bobby is an ornery frontier coot given to elaborately outdated turns of phrase. And...are we done, here? "We are!" Excellent. Next!

Niveus Pharmaceuticals' Corporate Headquarters, which are apparently located deep within the vasty wastes of Nevada's Great Basin somewhere close to Crowley's rattrap, unless Crowley zapped the Impala from Nevada or Maine or wherever to Deerfield or Groton or someplace like that. From his hiding place out on the front drive, Dean peers through a pair of binoculars at the security guards manning the front desk and quickly guesses, "Demons!" "Human shields," Crowley corrects, adding, "The demons are up top, twelfth floor." Dean sighs and mutters something about finding a path through the back entrance, then, which makes Crowley sigh and mutter, "You Winchesters make everything so complicated!" right before Crowley...teleports himself from the car! "Aw, crap!" grumbles Dean, and he hoists the binoculars to peer into the heavily guarded lobby once more, where Crowley's just now...O.J.-ing the security guards' throats! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Dean, far less appreciative than Raoul of those crimson spurts now leaping from the ragged holes in the security guards' necks, freaks and races towards the lobby entrance, where he finds the guards' rapidly cooling corpses swimming in puddles of their own blood. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" "You killed them?" Dean flusters. By way of response, Crowley -- God love him -- simply wipes the bits of neck flesh off his knife with a pocket square, delicately picks his way around the rapidly cooling corpses' blood puddles so as not to muss his shoes, and leads Deeply Disturbed El Deano over to the elevator bank. He shoves Dean into a waiting car and presses the button for the twelfth floor, then steps back with a bright smile on his face while perking, "Go get 'em, tiger!" "You're not coming?" Dean grunts. Crowley shrugs, "It's not safe up there -- there's demons!" Heh, and again: All in Sheppard's delivery, because God knows the line as written isn't all that funny. In any event, Crowley assures Dean that everything will be fine as long as Dean executes his part of the plan as previously discussed somewhere off screen, and he pushes Dean back into the elevator car, waving a cheerful goodbye as Dean disappears upwards.

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