But why?

September 13, 2005 would mark the pilot episode of a scrappy, scruffy little show that fit into its home network like an Impala-shaped peg in a Dawson’s Creek-shaped hole: Supernatural.

Since then, the series has gone on to have astonishing longevity, blowing past five seasons, seven seasons and now pressing into 13 with the potential for a (second) spin-off (effort) on the way. This show has ruined our lives, insulted our intelligence, driven us to distraction, entertained us for years, and — with its seeming immortality — made us so angry that one drunken night in a Winchester motel somewhere in Maine, Waldorph and Pru made an unholy pact: if and when Supernatural came to an end, we would bite the Colt bullet and do what we had always feared was in us like demon blood all along, make an episode-by-episode Supernatural podcast.

This is the dark result of that blood oath. May God have mercy on our souls.