Even before The Boys transformed into a Prime Video hit series, showrunner Eric Kripke had already showcased his talent for combining shock value, gore, and quirky humor, though more restrained on network television. In Supernatural’s fifth season finale, a moment with Castiel reveals how much of an absurdist he is.
An angel hurls holy fire with silly taunts and then zaps off in a violent, bloody explosion for far too over-the-top death by Lucifer. It’s the type of scene that feels jarringly divergent from a CW drama but perfectly at home in The Boys. The sequence straddles a fine line where it’s horrifying in content, yet hilarious in tone, and memorable precisely because of that contradiction.
Although Supernatural seldom gave way to such visual over-the-topness, this particular instance shatters the form just enough to showcase Kripke’s instincts. He wasn’t simply recounting horror legends; he was exploring what genre television could be, using intense imagery not only as fodder for fear, but for satire and storytelling impact.
Castiel’s “death” was a satirical masterstroke in disguise

What makes Castiel’s thunderous death scene explosive is its almost cartoonishly absurd nature. With the now-iconic “Hey, assbutt,” he hurls a bottle of holy fire, which leads to his instantaneous evisceration by Lucifer’s finger snap. The imagery is grotesque, but also captures a strange kind of humor.
Several years later, it would become a signature style of The Boys, where the darkly comedic and ridiculous work hand in hand. Though Supernatural was not permitted to go as graphic as he wanted, showrunner Eric Kripke figured out ways to bring a balance between horrific and animated humor to the show.
This scene brilliantly walks the line between fandom engagement and contempt. Castiel’s death is never really permanent, as he comes back to life a few minutes later. Because of this, the “violence” inflicted doesn’t have any emotional impact; it just contributes to the theme.
The Boys has always loved absurdity as signposted in their DNA, and that very spirit lives in here too. In hindsight, I find it remarkable that Kripke transformed into the brain behind a show like this one, where bloodshed is so commonplace, and less surprising that Supernatural even attempted to hint at it in the first place.
The Boys let Kripke unleash what CW only hinted at with Supernatural

On The Boys, there’s no studio constraint holding back Kripke, and that creative freedom is palpable. From exploding heads to supes literally bursting apart, the series embraces extremes in a way Supernatural could never fully commit to. Even so, moments like Castiel’s “death” scene now feel like early blueprints. It wasn’t simply about the gore; it was about the whimsical framing, odd timing, and gleeful expectation reversal — all trademarks of his storytelling in the later years.
We might say that Kripke’s journey is somewhat analogous to his characters’: it begins restricted by beloved lore and ultimately liberated. Castiel’s splattering onto the screen was never a mere joke. It was a signal flare. A pledge that if ever provided the opportunity, he would go further — grotesquely, gleefully, unapologetically. The Boys serves that purpose, but Supernatural was where the fuse was ignited.