The season premiere picks up right where last season’s finale left off, and in an instant, it’s like the last four months of my life never happened. This is not a good thing.
My New And Improved Baboo — brimming, as you’ll no doubt recall, with all the power the souls of Purgatory had to offer — speechifies at length at Our Imperiled Heroes and their redneck pet Bobby for a very long period of time, chiding them for their collective lack of faith in Himself, or something, but he eventually suffers them to live and flutters off to pick up where the real God left off however many eons ago. And for a while, Castiel’s wacky hijinks are immensely gratifying, indeed, as he proceeds to take out every last hypocritical Christianist ******* in the country before turning his deadly attentions on the likes of The Klan, Tony Robbins, Michelle Bachmann, and most of the aforementioned’s fawning acolytes. Alas, the awesomeness cannot continue forever, for those roiling souls clawing around deep within My Sweet Baboo’s guts soon start gnawing through the errant angel’s Vessel, and it quickly becomes clear that Castiel must rid himself of Purgatory’s millions sooner rather than later.
Fortunately, Sam and Dean have been investigating possible solutions, natch, and with the still-kicking Crowley’s help, they manage to bind Capital-D Death in an effort to force the Horseman to slaughter My Sweet Baboo. Quite naturally, Death rather haughtily refuses, though he does arrange for another lunar eclipse, thereby allowing Our Dear Boys to pry open yet another portal into Purgatory, so that was nice of him, wasn’t it? And in the end, the boys plus Bobby somehow manage to help Castiel send all those souls back where they belong. Well, except for the souls of The Leviathans, who lagged behind like those lazy Leviathans tend to do, and before you can say “Aspidochelone,” The Leviathans have seized control of My Sweet Baboo’s body, and several of our peppy protagonists find themselves flipping ass over end into this evening’s final blackout. DUN!
Oh, I almost forgot: Sam might be going crazy. You know, because of that Wall thing. Or he might actually be entirely sane, and this whole season’s going to end up being some sort of great big walloping mind**** of a Satan-engineered fakeout, like the entire runs of St. Elsewhere or Newhart. Will you stick around to find out? Well? Will you?