Supernatural 8.22 – Clip Show


Remember Tommy Collins? Think back 170 episodes; you remember, back when Dean didn’t wear shorts? Tommy’s back in the woods having Wendigo flashbacks, which are way worse than acid flashbacks but at least Tommy knows what he’s up against this time.

Or not. His body is flung around the cabin until his blood pressure skyrockets and his body bleeds out like a popped grape.

Back at homebase, Sam and Dean are going through all the files. Literally, it’s like read all the files. Dean asks Sam how he feels, Sam is brutally honest about how craptastic he feels. It also sounds like he’s pregnant, but lets not go assuming things. Dean sympathizes, he’s right though, jaeger hangovers are the worst.

Castiel is there, we know because we can see him. And Sam is talking to him. And he’s talking back to Sam. Dean, on the other hand, walks silently past him to russle Sam up some grub. Chef Dean is off his game tonight though; half a beer, a few strips of beef jerky and three peanut butter cups (full size! Not minis!) are all he has to feed his sickly brother with. At least it’s well rounded…?

Dean decides to go out for a grocery run and Castiel offers to go with him. Dean ignores him. Castiel sighs loudly and sincerely apologizes for everything ever.

Not good enough.

Sam interrupts the glare-fest to ask if there’s a room 7B in the bunker. There is. While they check it out Sam tells Dean to cut Castiel a lil slack. Dean doesn’t think Castiel deserves slack, in fact if it were anyone other than Castiel Dean would have ripped his jugular out. Sam is still cheering for Team Castiel. The room is creepy and dark and, according to the MOL notes, “weird!!!” The room is full of boxed files and, oh yeah, it’s decorated in early modern devil’s trap with spell-etched shackles. A dungeon. Charlie is going to be stoked.

Sam finds a reel of film to with the right label on it and they string it up for viewing. Castiel munching on Jiffy Pop as they watch.

So wait… Dean tried to feed Sam dried meat and candy when there was popcorn around? And since when does Castiel eat?


The crackling black and white film is of a young priest with no worries about lung cancer, our friend Abaddon, or who ever Abaddon’s vessel was to be more accurate and an older priest. They’ve got something in the works, a new exorcism. Which they try to perform on an old woman possessed by a demon and hanging from the very shackles they just found. They chant an unfamiliar chant, do some sketching blood magic and poof! Failure.

Sam has a bit of info. The older priest died decades ago, but the younger priest took that lickin’ and kept on tickin’ and is hiding away in a church in St. Louis. Time for Team Free Will to gear up, except Coach Dean tells Castiel that’s he’s benched. No trust = no play time.

They meet up with the no-longer-young priest who tells them all about the unorthodox dealings he and Father Thompson were into; cleansing a demon instead re-damning it back to hell. Thing is after their spectacular failure he was so freaked he bolted. Father Thompson, however, kept trucking away until something trucked back. Sam is trying to interview him, but his tuberculosis is acting up. Dean is of course worry warting away, but as Sam tends to his bloody hacking Dean fills the priest in on how Sam is going to save them all. The priest is skeptical, Dean isn’t. Not at all.

Meanwhile, Castiel is trying to make himself useful by ration shopping, he’s getting all the human necessities, beer and TP, and trashing the convenience mart all in one go. The clerk is rightfully annoyed by the clumsy celestial being wrecking the store on his shift. Castiel sheepishly offers the boy a fistful of money and asks for pie. Pie makes everything better. But their out of pie. Unacceptable, doesn’t the clerk know that Castiel NEEDS pie. Pie is fruit-filled apology in a flaky chagrin crust. He’s ready to shake pieces of pie out of boy when Metatron appears and saves the boy’s bladder some embarrassment.

Castiel, meet Metatron. Metatron, I believe you already know Castiel.

They have a heart-to-heart. Metatron tells Castiel about how out of touch he is and Castiel tells Metraton about the well-intended roads he keeps walking down. Metatron knows that Castiel has messed up, but he also knows that he’s not the only one who thought and thinks that his way is the better way. Metatron figures that if all the Browns get together and have a family meeting they could work out their dysfunctions. An angel intervention, if you will. And the best way Metatron reckons they accomplish this is by shutting the gates to Heaven and locking all the angels inside to feud amongst themselves.

Castiel isn’t so sure this is a good idea.

He and Metatron talk it out over crepes and coffee at a quaint little restaurant in Ojai, California, where the crepes are sweet and the waitress is even sweeter. She’s got her eye on Castiel in all his adorable, clueless, blue-eyed, trench coated glory. Metatron is realizing that running around in Booger Dawson’s dopalganger isn’t going to snag all the ladies. Too bad Castiel is gonna have to gank her. According to Metatron she’s the offspring of an angel and a human, which makes murdering her the first trial.

That’s right, Metraton has knighted Castiel the Sam Winchester of the Angel Tablet. Castiel, will you ever learn?

Back at the bunker, Sam and Dean check out some more video footage. Turns out Father Thompson was able to successfully cure a demon using purified blood injections as vitamins and good ol’ fashioned patience. The demon still exists but he’s no longer evil and he’s repentant. Dean figures they can do this, all they need is a demon and some stitch-witchery. Luckily, they have Abaddon’s diced up remains, John Winchester’s old med kit and way too much time watching Young Frankenstein in their back pockets.

Sam and Dean crochet Abaddon back together. Mostly. Head and torso, but her limbs stay in the box. She’s not happy, but thanks to the devil’s trap bullet in her head her hands are metaphorically tied. She knows why they’re there, she’s part of the plot after all, but just as she’s giving her version of the tale Sam’s phone rings.

Caller ID: 666

Crowley of course. He’s disappointed that the boys aren’t keeping up with national news and brings Tommy’s demise to their attention. While Dean googles the Denver Times, Crowley gets some good news and sends them an address to scope out.

While the boys are away, the Raggedy Ann demon will play. Or y’know, use the fact that she’s now undug and cozeint to control her disembodied, and still very well manicured, hand and make it wiggle into her mouth and yank out the bullet. Clever. By the time Sam and Dean get back inside their captured demon is on the lam.

Remember the address? Prosperity, Indiana, home of former Whedon people turned witches and offal-filled cupcakes. Jenny, adorable baker, baker, cupcake maker is roasted, toasted and burnt to a crisp. Too late boys. Crowley calls to let them know that he’s killing off everyone they ever managed to save, every 12 hours on the hour, until the return the prophet he rightfully stole from them first. Next stop, Indianapolis, the Ivy Hotel, 57 minutes to go.

While Sam and Dean scavenger hunt, Metatron and Castiel stake out the waitress’s house like creepers. Only she knows they’re there and she knows why. But she’s not going down without a fight. And by “fight”, we mean thoroughly kicking both their angelic asses. She’s got Metatron on the ropes when Castiel sees the opportunity to angel blade her in the back. One bi-racial angel/human hybrid down, two more trials to go.

Back in Indianapolis, a hotel door swings open and we get reacquainted with the super lovely Sarah Blake, estate curator extraordinaire. Clearly Dean hit all the green lights to Indianapolis, because even after Sam gives Sarah the quick catch up they still have 16 minutes to save her. That’s a long time in Winchester World. And they have all the survival basics: shotguns, spray paint, chants and holy trinkets. Sam tells her he knows it sounds bonkers, but bonkers is their schtick. This is actually not brand new information to Sarah, but okay.

Two minutes to midnight and while Dean is demon proofing the room, Sam focuses on the wedding set Sarah is twirling around her finger. Her husband is Ian. He’s a hero in his own way, ‘cause she’s got a type obviously. They have a daughter, she’s almost a year old. She has a perfect life, she’s looks great, she’s happy. Sam… looks and feels like shit. Not the reunion he imagined.


And all their safeguarding is for naught. Sarah’s choking on air and Crowley is mocking their very existence via speakerphone and no matter how much they shred the room they can’t find the hex bag that’s doing this to her and Sarah’s choking stops. Sarah’s breathing stops.

And there’s nothing they can do to keep it from continuing to happen. No way to stop Crowley from taking away the one justification they’ve always lived by: saving people, hunting things, the family business.