In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description! Finished? Click here to close.
Remember that tense-making cliffhanger from the end of last week's episode? You know, the one that left us all thinking The Leviathans had turned Bobby into a bitty pile of ash while an ambulance carried Our Grievously Injured Heroes straight into the depths of The Leviathans' new lair at Sioux Falls General Hospital? Yeah, well, they rid themselves of all that awesome excitement within the episode's first thirty seconds and then shot forward in time three weeks so there'd be absolutely no repercussions whatsoever. I told you they'd fuck it all up.
So, moments after Our Dear Boys have been wheeled into Sioux Falls General, a spiffed-up Bobby materializes with no explanation at all to whisk them away to Whitefish, Montana, where Bobby had -- get this -- stored copies of all of his priceless research, so the loss of The Emporium is really no big deal. And after stuffing Sam's leaky brain back into his skull through his ear, and after plopping Dean down on a couch in front of a neverending stream of telenovelas that magically heal his shattered tibia completely in less than 21 days, the episode proper opens with a still-hallucinating Sam going walkabout to investigate a series of gruesome murders 350 miles away in Bozeman. The M.O. behind the crimes, you see, matches that of a case he took on all by his lonesome twenty-three years ago when he was, like, six goddamned years old, and it seems the same beastie's responsible for this latest spate of killings.
Through a series of yellow-toned flashbacks, we watch as Wee Sam meets and befriends one "Amy Pond," a lissome lass with a nasty piece of work for a mother, and it turns out both Amy and her ma are "Kitsunes," and I don't know why I bothered linking to that Wikipedia entry because Kitsunes on this show are brain-sucking monsters with absolutely devastating manicures who must feast on human pituitary glands lest they fall ill and die. Flashback Amy saved Wee Sam's life by killing her own mother, so Wee Sam let her go on the condition she avoid killing anyone else for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, Present Amy's half-Kitsune son got really, really sick, so she started sucking on the heads of various lowlifes and deadbeats to heal the kid, and now she must die.
Sam, however, can't bring himself to do it -- Amy again convinces him that she'll forego live brains forever the instant her son's back to his old self -- so it falls to Sneaky Dean, who'd been tracking Sam this entire time, to confront Amy in her motel room, where he aerates her torso with some sort of special Kitsune-killing knife. For whatever dumbass reason, Idiot Dean lets Amy's kid go, though, so I expect they'll be dealing with him at some point later on in the season. Unless, you know, they forget the frigging kid ever existed in the first place.
Meanwhile, in Leviathan news, the entirely resuscitated Edgar and one of his minions do manage to track Our Intrepid Heroes to Montana through Moron Sam's repeated use of a stolen credit card, but the only thing that comes of that is a cheese-coated convenience store clerk, and that certainly seems like it was hardly worth the effort, doesn't it?
Want more? The full recap starts right below!Rattle, Rattle WE DON'T GIVE A SHIT ANYMORE THEN!, and let's keep this quick, 'cause God knows they're just gonna forget about most of this crap as soon as they hit the title card: Darling Sammy is crazy, My Sweet Baboo swallowed a bunch of Leviathans and dissolved himself in a municipal reservoir, The Leviathans traveled through the water system to possess an untold number of humans before assuming control of a hospital -- the better to snack on the viscera of various patients, as you'll recall -- and a Leviathan named Edgar blew up The Emporium before knocking half of Darling Sammy's brain out through the latter's freakish Cro-Magnon ear while snapping Dashing El Deano's tibia in about eighteen different places. And at the end of the last episode, Our Imperiled Heroes found themselves strapped helplessly to a pair of gurneys, riding a speeding ambulance straight down into the hellish depths of The Leviathans' new lair at Sioux Falls General. DUN!
Rattle, Rattle STILL NOT GIVING A SHIT NOW! We get a woozy, out-of-focus Dean P.O.V. of various medical personnel laboring above Our Grievously Injured Hero until the ruthlessly efficient lady-doctor in charge snaps part of his shattered tibia back into place, at which point Dean bolts upright on his ER gurney to scream. As a burly orderly -- and are there ever any other kinds of orderlies on TV? -- does his level best to hold Dean down, Dean snarls, "Where am I?" "Sioux Falls General," the lady-doctor curtly replies before focusing once again on the shredded, mangled mess that used to be his right shin -- a shredded, mangled mess that remains, I should note, off-screen during this entire scene, like, throw us a frigging bone, here, you bastards. You know, so to speak. Anyway, Dean gets all panicky and such, bellowing for his severely concussed brother, until an extremely helpful nurse pushes a hypodermic full of morphine into his IV line, at which point Dean finally shuts up and falls asleep.
Some time later, Dean awakens to find himself all by his lonesome in a room just off the main nurses' station. He slowly pulls himself up, rips out his IV, and... crashes to the floor when he tries to hop out of the bed! D'OH! Dumbass. Barely has he had a chance to acknowledge the existence of that massive cast now stretching all the way up his right leg when a notably spiffed-up Bobby wanders through the door with absolutely no explanation at all for where he's been or what he's been up to or why he's not a bitty pile of ash topped off by a charred trucker's cap right about now, and no, I am not exaggerating. See for yourself with these exact quotes:
Dippy El Deano: Bobby! You're alive!
Laconic Bobby: 'Course I am.
Dippy El Deano: We thought you were dead!
Laconic Bobby, Who Deserves To Rot In Hell: Well, I ain't.
And that's all we'll be hearing about Bobby's miraculous escape from Leviathan Edgar for the rest of this goddamned episode. Of course, to make matters worse, Bobby's there to rescue both Sam and Dean -- like, how convenient, and so much for Our Intrepid Dimwits finally fixing their own goddamned problems for once in their miserable lives -- and of course, rescue both Sam and Dean Bobby does, but first we must endure a sequence of supposedly anxiety-laden events that primarily involve Doped-Up El Deano hobbling through the hospital corridors on a pair of crutches while various Leviathans chase after him, but because I'm so disappointed with how ineptly they've chosen to resolve last week's enthralling cliffhanger, I'm not sure I have the strength to give you good people a blow-by-blow of the action. Suffice it to say, then, that after Bobby loads a still-unconscious Sam into the back of a handy ambulance, Dumbass El Deano hauls himself into the ambulance's front seat just in time for Bobby to peel off, leaving those various Leviathans to scowl and seethe and stare straight into the oncoming...
...SNOT ROCKET! "I'm bored!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, flopping about atop his overstuffed armchair in an elaborate and elegant display of ennui. "Is the entire installment of this usually charming Friday-evening divertissement doomed to be so listless?!" Well... "Hmmm!?" To be brutally honest with you, my scaly friend, we're going to get a hint of brain-sucking about halfway through, and then at the very end, someone we don't care about gets stabbed to death. "That's it?!" I'm afraid so. "Then I'll thank you not to wake me! ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Oh, how I envy you, Raoul. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" And hate you at the same time.
The camera fades up on a ridiculously scenic rustic homestead located on the far outskirts of what the just-appearing location card claims is "Whitefish, Montana." Infuriatingly enough, the location card is presently joined by another wee bit of text that arrives to inform us it is now "Three Weeks Later," and Supernatural can go fuck itself. "ZZZZZZ -- language! -- ZZZZZZZ!" It would help me immensely if you remained silent whilst in your Coma Of Boredom, houseguest, and also: WHATEVER. After that godawful clusterfuck otherwise known as "Season Six," they start their entirely unnecessary Season Seven off with an unexpected and unexpectedly enjoyable bang, only to pull this bullshit on us at the beginning of the third episode? I repeat: Supernatural can go fuck itself.
But I don't have time to dwell on how stupidly they squandered the opportunity they gave themselves -- the opportunity to construct a nerve-wrackingly tense episode centered on, say, Sam and Dean's struggle to escape that hospital on their own, for example, with eviscerations and explosions and an absolutely massive body count by the end of it, just to toss out a couple of suggestions -- because we haven't even established this episode's primary plotlines yet, and already, I'm sleepy. So, we duck inside that ridiculously scenic rustic homestead to find Darling Sammy looking absolutely no worse for the wear despite the fact that Leviathan Edgar all but cleaved open his skull with a tire iron at the end of last week's episode, and he's sitting at the kitchen table, reading, while Dean sprawls on a nearby sofa, engrossed in the anonymous telenovela now screening on the homestead's TV. The good news is, Dean's still sporting that massive cast. The bad news is -- spoiler! -- he rips that massive cast off in a couple of scenes and starts strutting around as if Leviathan Edgar never ground his goddamned tibia into powder in the first place, and this show can blow me. But perhaps I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself.
Bobby presently lopes in from points elsewhere to inform Our Intrepid Morons that The Leviathans have spread out across the country, with numerous hunters reporting all sorts of wacky Leviathan-related hijinks that will remain -- for the moment, at least -- unseen by the audience. The three natter at each other for a very long period of time, reminding us all of The Leviathans' identifying characteristics, and the only point of note to emerge from the conversation is the fact that The Leviathans have evidently abandoned Sioux Falls General, so there's another reason to write off this season's first two episodes entirely. Meanwhile, Sam zones out for a little bit, staring off into space as the never-seen Lucifer whispers sweet nothings in his ear, but he does manage to rouse himself in time to listen in as Bobby sighs, "Every last bit of info I ever had burned down." "So," Bobby continues, "I got to go round up my old library." "Whaaaaaaaa?" howls the audience as Sam delicately inquires, "I thought those books were one-of-a-kind?" "That's why I stashed copies all over the place," Bobby duhs, which means The Emporium's destruction is ultimately meaningless, which means there's yet another reason to write off this season's first two episodes entirely, and I'll be damned if I know how the hell we're gonna make it all the way through May at this rate, so I'll just shut my yap and listen as Dean tosses the Impala's keys in his brother's general direction and tells Sam to fetch them some snacks. And when Sam is gone, Dean and Bobby blather about The Uncertain State Of Poor Darling Sammy's Fragile Little Mind -- again, SOME MORE -- until Bobby finally bails to dig up some more info on The Leviathans.
Over at the "Whitefish Gas & Sip," Sam hustles his basket of goodies up to the checkout counter, where he spots an ominous headline on the top of that afternoon's Bozeman Times. "ICE PICK KILLER STRIKES AGAIN," the headline screams. "Victim's fatal wounds 'signature' of killer," the subhead assures us. Sam thinks about it for a second, then throws the paper in with the rest of his purchases, passing the clerk a credit card issued to "Lemmy Kilmister by way of payment. The clerk, clearly as much of a Motörhead fan as I am, immediately swipes the card for authorization, in the process...
...triggering a transaction alert at some random customer service center somewhere! DUN! And I can't believe we've reached the point where a transaction alert at some random customer service center is eliciting a DUN! from me. The customer service representative attached to the computer displaying the alert immediately dials Leviathan Edgar on his cell to inform him of the Winchesters' current apparent whereabouts. Leviathan Edgar rather snottily sends the customer service representative off to slaughter Our Intrepid Heroes, and wave goodbye to Leviathan Edgar, kids, 'cause that's the last we'll be seeing of him this week. Though it would be remiss of me were I not to report at this juncture that Leviathan Edgar's face and body bear no signs of their spectacular run-in with that junker back at The Emporium, so there's yet ANOTHER reason to write off this season's first two episodes entirely, and fuck my life.
Back inside that ridiculously scenic rustic homestead, Dean and Sam blather about The Uncertain State Of Poor Darling Sammy's Fragile Little Mind -- again, SOME MORE -- until even Dean decides he's had enough of this lame-ass bullshit and falls into a Coma Of Boredom as well. This allows Sam some time to peruse his copy of that afternoon's Bozeman Times, and from what I can see of the article, it would appear that the corpse of a 35-year-old smack addict named Steve Thomason has been found in "Livingston Park," much to the dismay of a local resident, whom the paper quotes as stating, "I'm afraid to go outside my house, and not just because I'm allergic to the sun." Sad, isn't it, that I am now far more interested in learning more about that extremely photosensitive Livingston local than I am in watching the rest of this episode? Sigh. In any event, Sam settles back in his chair to furrow his mighty brow, which is our cue to get bitch-slapped straight into this evening's first...
...FLASHBACK! We arrive in an very damp and very, very yellow Lincoln, Nebraska, in 1998 to find Wee Sam sitting on a park bench, folding up a newspaper of his own whilst informing the unfortunately never-seen Teen Dean via antique cell phone that the monster they're looking for is "something called a Kitsune." And once again, there was no need for me to link to the relevant Wikipedia entry for that particular mythological beastie because Kitsunes on this show are actually, as Wee Sam puts it, things that "look human 'til they sprout out claws and stab you behind your ear to get to your brain," which is disappointing, because I think we've already seen more than a few things that look human 'til they sprout out something to stab you behind your ear to get to your brain on this show, but I don't have time to bitch about that now because we've already shot...
...back forward in time to find Present Sam tippy-toeing his ginormous self out of that ridiculously scenic rustic homestead in the middle of the night, presumably to investigate the recent spate of killings in the greater Bozeman metropolitan area on his own. To his credit, he thoughtfully leaves a note for the still-comatose Dean that explains his absence. Unfortunately, he then proceeds to steal the Impala, so I'm assuming Dean's gonna be wicked pissed, anyway.
Meanwhile, down in the greater Bozeman metropolitan area, a twitchy blonde approaches an excessively hirsute biker-type beneath a graffiti-bedecked highway overpass and fumbles around inside her jeans pockets for enough cash to purchase her fix. Alas, the twitchy blonde comes up a couple of bucks short, but just as the excessively hirsute biker-type rather bluntly suggests he take out the difference in trade, police sirens erupt nearby, causing the twitchy blonde to flee up to the main road. For his part, the excessively hirsute biker-type chooses to skedaddle deeper into the gloom beneath the overpass, and that's a very bad move on his part, indeed, for barely has he begun to trot off into the distance when a small something darts in from the side of the frame to tackle him to the ground. And by the time the camera catches up with the dimly-lit action, the excessively hirsute biker-type is dead, a small puddle of blood pooling out from beneath his rapidly cooling head to trickle into this evening's first METAL TEETH CHOMP!
The morning, Dean awakens on the sofa in that ridiculously scenic rustic homestead to find Sam's note, which reads, "BACK IN A fEw DAYS. I'M fINe." Needless to say, Sam's sloppy penmanship sends Dean flying into a vivid rage -- a rage only made worse once he discovers the Impala's missing as well, natch -- and after a quick call to Bobby that ends up being as pointless as everything else in this goddamned episode, he fires up a tiny little circular hand-saw to cut off his cast. Even though it's been all of twenty-one days since Leviathan Edgar ground Our Intrepid Moron's tibia into sparkly bone dust, which means Dean should actually be stuck in that goddamned cast for at least another goddamned month, but as I've already ranted about this stupid fucking development earlier in the recap, I'll just say FUCK YOU, SUPERNATURAL, and keep this moving, okay? "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Yes, I know you're still asleep, Raoul. Shut up. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!"
Down in The Gallatin County Morgue, Dapper Sam's once again masquerading as an FBI agent to gain access to the excessively hirsute biker-type's corpse, and as he wanders through the corridors with an extremely chatty sheriff's deputy, he learns that the late, unlamented biker-type was "a reeeeeal mensch" who'd been "busted a half-dozen times" in the past, presumably for dealing, although that's never quite made clear. Sam also confirms that the suspected killer blows into town just long enough to "gank a lowlife" before disappearing again, and after he ignores yet another phone call from Dean -- who appears as "Lars Ulrich" on Sam's cell, of course -- we hop back to the...
Whitefish Gas & Sip, where Dean arrives to find the bored-looking clerk watching an old Road Runner cartoon on the shop's wall-mounted television set. "Was there a big guy in here yesterday?" Dimwit El Deano asks. "That's specific," the clerk replies, instantly becoming my new best TV friend despite the fact that he shaves his head. Their conversation continues along these lines for a very lengthy period of time until Dean for some reason thinks to ask if the clerk still has a copy of yesterday's paper. Fortuitously enough, my new best TV friend does, and the headline sends Dean scrambling back to the car he evidently stole for a fast little road trip down to Bozeman.
Meanwhile, back in the morgue, the coroner obligingly slides the excessively hirsute biker-type's corpse from the cooler for Dapper Sam's inspection, all the while explaining that "a big chunk" of the corpse's mid-brain has gone missing. "Mid-brain, like pituitary gland?" Sam wonders. "A-yup!" answers the coroner, and with that, we're bitch-slapped straight into this evening's second...
...FLASHBACK! This time, we find the jaundiced Wee Sam in the Lincoln library, where he's informing the still unfortunately never-seen Teen Dean via antique cell phone that "they need a steady diet of human pituitary glands to survive," and just as quickly as we were bitch-slapped into the past, we get bitch-slapped back into the...
...present, where Dapper Sam makes with quippy remarks before retreating to his version of this week's motel room, where he busies himself constructing a big-ass Wall O' Investigating, much as he did in his...
...jaundiced past. And as Wee Sam realizes the 1998 spate of murders all occurred within shouting distance of I-80 between Milford and Aurora...
...Present Sam realizes the 2011 spate of murders all occurred within shouting distance of I-90 between Big Timber and Belgrade. Present Sam sweats, because thinking is hard. Then, he folds all sixteen feet of himself into the purloined Impala and motors off to an appropriately dark and forbidding piece of nowhere to wait for the killer to strike again. Meanwhile, back in the...
...jaundiced past, Wee Sam's emerged from the "LANCASTER PUBLIC LIBRARY" to fetch himself some caffeine from the handy coffee cart out on the sidewalk, but that's not important right now because what is important right now is the fact that Wee Sam's Wee Sam has gone all a-tingle at the sight of the perky little blonde thing who's now entering the library. Meanwhile, back at the...
...present-day stakeout, Sam looks conflicted or confused or constipated or something, and then we get bitch-slapped back into the...
...jaundiced past, where Wee Sam eyes up the perky little blonde thing from afar as ominous music plays for whatever goddamned reason, and then we shoot back to the...
...present-day stakeout, and FOR FUCK'S SAKE WOULD YOU PICK A FUCKING YEAR AND STICK THE FUCK WITH IT ALREADY? ANY-way, Sam spots a just-arriving someone pulling into his dark and forbidding piece of nowhere, and he...
...OH MY FUCKING GOD WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU A HALF A FUCKING SENTENCE AGO? AAAAUAUUUUUAAAUUGH.
Ahem. Jaundiced past. Wee Sam eyes up the perky little blonde thing through the stacks for a bit, but flees in terror when she's bold enough to return his gaze. He quickly rings up the still unfortunately never-seen Teen Dean on his antique cell phone to inform his brother that Kitsunes might be vanquished with a simple knife to the heart, and then he asks the still unfortunately never-seen Teen Dean how one might chat up a perky little blonde thing. We never do hear Teen Dean's answer, but he must have offered Wee Sam some sort of sage advice, for the thing we know, Wee Sam's approaching the perky little blonde thing to stammer, "I-I-I just wanted t-t-to..." "No," ices the perky little blonde. "Go away." Wee Sam's wee face falls, so the perky little blonde takes pity on him and explains, "I'm not supposed to talk to boys." Wee Sam shrugs his wee shoulders around for a bit and leaves.
Out on the sidewalk, Wee Sam watches as the perky little blonde strides off towards a nearby park, followed by two adolescent oafs. Sensing danger, Wee Sam scampers along after them, and it's a good thing he did, because those adolescent oafs have decided to harass the perky little blonde. Bravely, Wee Sam confronts them, and when the adolescent oafs make as if to pound Wee Sam into the dirt, Wee Sam responds by kicking their collective ass. The adolescent oafs flee, and a mightily impressed perky little blonde invites Wee Sam back to her place for a little something-something, if you know what I mean.
Meanwhile, back in Present Sam's dark and forbidding piece of nowhere, Sam trails that just-arriving someone into the lush coastal rainforests of south-central Montana, and as that just-arriving someone happens to be a perky little blonde, I think we should be able to see where this is going. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Well, those of us who are still awake should be able to see where this is going. The perky little blonde stalks an obviously loaded boozehound over to his car -- which, I should remind you, is parked in the middle of the lush coastal rainforests of south-central Montana, for fuck's sake -- but before anything interesting can happen, Sam pounces, tossing the perky little blonde up against a tree whilst pressing a knife against her knockers. "Hello, Amy!" Sam snarls, and with that, he disappears into this evening's METAL TEETH CHOMP!
Lush Coastal Rainforests Of South-Central Montana. Immediate aftermath. Amy and Sam exchange a few tense pleasantries, and then Sam frog-marches her back towards the purloined Impala, all the while seething about "the same pattern and the same victim pool," just like when they were kids, and Amy protests her normalcy, claiming she's been steadily employed for the last six years with a house and a mortgage and a couple of cats, and before we can find out what the hell she's talking about, we get bitch-slapped again into the...
...jaundiced past, where Teen Amy's tending to Wee Sam's bruised eye, and no, that is not a euphemism for something naughty, you sickos. They flirt, and Teen Amy heads into the kitchen to fetch Wee Sam something cool and refreshing, rather casually sliding aside various jars positively brimming with Braaaaaaaains! to reach the soda cans at the back of the fridge because Amy is secretly a pituitary-sucking monster, and she and Wee Sam flirt some more, bonding over their equally sucky parents until Wee Sam leans in for a sudden kiss, and then it's back to the...
...Lush Coastal Rainforests Of South-Central Montana, where Present Amy insists, "What I am? I'm managing it!" "You spiked three guys this week!" Present Sam howls, outraged, and they blather at each other like that for a little bit until Amy's eyes flash an unnatural shade of something I'm guessing is close to neon blue, at which point she easily knocks the knife from Sam's hand before slamming his much-abused skull into a tree. Unfortunately for her, Sam had managed to pick her pocket before lapsing into unconsciousness, so even though she manages to skitter off, I'm thinking he'll be able to figure out where she lives. You know, after he recovers from his latest subdural hematoma. In all of three seconds.
Over at The Gallatin County Morgue, Dapper Dean's arrived to masquerade as an FBI agent and inquire about Dapper Sam's recent visit. Upon receiving word of the recent victims' missing pituitary glands, Dapper Dean mutters, "Son of a bitch!" and leaps back into his...
...stolen car, where he calls Bobby to fill the latter in on recent events. And as that's all there is to that, let's skip over to...
...Amy's tastefully appointed home, where we find the monster of the house frantically packing her bags, only to discover that Sam's suddenly materialized in her living room. D'OH! "How did you find me?" she predictably asks. "You dropped this," Sam LIES, wagging the slip of paper he extracted from her pocket around in the air before arching a brow and smirking, "'Amy Pond,' huh? Cute name." I'll be the judge of that. She purses her lips, and he stares at her, and she stares at him, and he stares back at her, and OH MY GOD WOULD SOMETHING JUST HAPPEN ALREADY IN THIS GODDAMNED EPISODE? JESUS! "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Go to hell, Raoul. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Oh, never mind.
ANY-way, Amy's got fresh blood on her hand, and Sam freaks, and he gets all screamy until...
...FLASHBACK! Wee Sam and Teen Amy finish up with their sudden kiss and break apart to stare all googly-eyed at each other until Wee Sam unexpectedly knocks his soda all over the floor, and no, that's not a euphemism for something naughty, either, you perverts. Teen Amy hastens to mop up the mess with a dishrag, and they bond over their equally sucky parents some more until...
...POND PAD!, and we finally -- FINALLY -- get an explanation for Present Amy's recent jolly dirtbag-slaughtering murder spree. She's got a son, you see -- a wee slip of a lad named "Jacob," who's about ten, going by the glimpse of his sleeping face that we get when she briefly eases open his bedroom door. While Amy swore off feeding on fresh Braaaaaaaains! years ago, even going so far as to become a mortician so she could get her necessary pituitary fix without killing anyone, her son was a different story. He recently fell ill thanks to all those dead Braaaaaaaains! his mother was feeding him, so Amy had to go dirtbag-hunting until the kid had sucked down enough fresh pituitaries to get better. And now that Jacob's recovering, as Amy insists, "It's over." "I give you my word," she promises Sam before asking, "How is spilling more blood gonna help anyone?" Sam, chastened for whatever reason, hasn't an answer for that one, so Amy presses on, noting, "You can still walk away from this." "We both can," she emphasizes. Conflicted Sammy chews on his lower lip, offering Amy a chance to prompt, "After what I did for you?" and...
...FLASHBACK! Teen Amy hears a car approaching, so she shoves Wee Sam into her closet, and no, that's not a euphemism for something naughty, EITHER, and would you all knock it the hell off already? GOD! ANY-way, barely has Wee Sam vanished into the depths of Teen Amy's closet when Teen Amy's mother comes barreling through the front door with a curt, "They caught up!" "Who caught up?" Teen Amy wonders. "Couple of pros in a piece-of-crap Impala," Teen Amy's Mother spits, powering over into the kitchen to announce, "We're leaving!" "But Moooooooooom!" Teen Amy whines, and the two beasties snipe at each other for a while with an increasingly agitated Wee Sam following their every word from the depths of Teen Amy's closet until Teen Amy's Mother comes dangerously close to ripping open that closet door, at which point Teen Amy hastily agrees to pack while her mother gases up the car. Momentarily mollified, Teen Amy's Mother exits, allowing Teen Amy a chance to free Wee Sam from his temporary prison. "Awesome first date, huh?" Teen Amy sighs. Unfortunately for her, Eagle-Eyed Wee Sam spots a stray bit of Braaaaaaaains! on the kitchen table, and he produces a knife from his jacket pocket, the better to gut Teen Amy like a fish. "That's my dad and brother in the Impala!" Wee Sam sneers, advancing upon Teen Amy with glittering black hatred in his eyes, and I'm sure this is all very tense and exciting, indeed, and by that I mean this is neither of those things at all, and eventually, Teen Amy somehow manages to tap into Wee Sam's deep vein of sympathy, or something, and he agrees not to kill her. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" I couldn't agree with you more, my scaly friend.
Back in the present, Sam wearily trudges up to his motel room's door. He keys the lock, swings the door open, and...gets decked right into the METAL TEETH CHOMP! DUN!
This Week's Motel Room. Aftermath. It was Dean who decked Darling Sammy into that last METAL TEETH CHOMP!, and as Sam dazedly rubs at his much-abused skull, Dean announces, "New rule: You steal my baby, you get punched!" Dean goes on to berate his brother for disappearing as he did, and the two blather about The Uncertain State Of Poor Darling Sammy's Fragile Little Mind -- again, SOME MORE -- until they finally decide to chat about more relevant recent events, and Sam is quickly forced to admit that he let Amy go. "You what?" Dean shrills, incredulous. "Why?"
FLASHBACK! Apparently, Teen Amy's Mother forgot her purse, or something, because before Wee Sam gets a chance to leave, she comes storming back in to toss him up against the wall, and she and her daughter scream and rant and rave at each other while Wee Sam just stands there all slack-jawed and such, and Teen Amy's Mother backhands Teen Amy before extending her CGI talons to claw open Wee Sam's wee skull. And then? "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Well, yeah, that, but also this: Teen Amy drives a kitchen knife through her mother's torso from behind, and Teen Amy's Mother gasps and splutters and chokes and gags and falls to the linoleum floor, dead.
We return to the present to find Darling Sammy furrowing his brow while his brother growls, "You never told me that!" "I never told anyone," Sam admits, adding, "I mean, can you imagine what [Our Worthless Bastard Of A So-Called Father] would have done?" Dean can easily imagine what their worthless bastard of a so-called father would have done, thank you very much, and he silently allows Sam the point before complaining, "And you call letting her go cleaning it up?" "She killed her own mom to save me," Sam testily reminds him, and Dean's all, "Yeah, yeah, whatever, but look at her now!" "She's dropping bodies," Dean duhs, "which means we got to drop her, no matter how many merit badges she racked up when she was a kid!" "I'm sorry," he angrily concludes, of course not at all sorry in the least, "but it's that simple!" Darling Sammy rolls his tired eyes around in his much-abused skull and mopes, "Nothing in our lives is simple." Oh, poor you.
FLASHBACK! Teen Amy's Dead Mother is still dead. You know, in case you were wondering. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" And I can see that you were not. Anyway, Wee Sam promises to take care of the corpse as long as Teen Amy blows town on the bus. "Come with me!" Teen Amy pleads, because she is a teenager, and because all teenagers are stupid. "We don't have to be alone!" she continues. "We can be freaks together!" Ooops. Did I skip that whole conversation they had where she was like, "Freaks are, like, the coolest people EVAH!!!!!!!11!!1!" and he was all, "Totally!!!!!111!!1!!!" and then they made googly eyes at each other again for about ten thousand years? Sorry. In any event, Wee Sam shoots her down as we all know he must and Teen Amy gets teary and charges past him as we find ourselves bitch-slapped back into the...
...present, where Dean attempts at commiseration and fails, and the two blather about The Uncertain State Of Poor Darling Sammy's Fragile Little Mind -- again, SOME MORE -- and Sam snivels, "I'm a freeeeeak!" over and over and over again, and it's all very Season Two -- and Season Three, and Season Four, and Season Five, and Season Six, and OH MY GOD, can't these two ASSHOLES come up with something NEW to talk about after ALL THESE GODDAMNED YEARS? -- and then it's over, and we drop into this evening's final commercial break most dreadfully CHOMP!-less.
The day, Sam emerges from the local Biggerson's with breakfast-in-a-bag while Dean loudly finishes up a call he's supposedly having with Bobby. And once he's done, he announces they'll be spending the night in Spokane, and kindly flips the Impala's keys over to Sam so the latter might drive.
Eventually, they end up at The Spokane Swan Motel. Dean sends Sam off to check them in for the evening and slides himself into the driver's seat so he can motor on over to the nearest pharmacy to get a refill on his painkillers, which is clearly a vicious LIE, because Dean obviously doesn't need painkillers, because: What shattered tibia? Stupid show. And as Sam disappears into the motel's office...
...Amy enters a motel room of her own to find Dean waiting for her in the shadows. DUN! And does anyone -- anyone -- really give a shit what these two talk about over the course of the subsequent fifty-six seconds? "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Didn't think so. Long story short, Dean drives a hunting knife into Amy's chest, and she collapses against the bed, dead. Unfortunately, little Jacob had been standing in the doorway this entire time, and so was witness to everything. And then? Get this: Our Intrepid Moron lets the fucking kid go. I...I...I just can't with this crap anymore!
Meanwhile, back at The Whitefish Gas & Sip, that Leviathanically-enhanced customer service agent from what seems like an entire frigging lifetime ago confirms Sam's recent presence in the store thanks to a security tape now unspooling on the wall-mounted television set, and he reports the same to his boss via his cell before going on to promise that he'll continue tracking Our Intrepid Idiots across the country until he finds them. At the moment, though, he's feeling a bit peckish, so after he snaps shut his phone, he turns to the trussed-up clerk and confides, "You know what I find? Plain old people taste fine, but everything's better with cheese!" With that, he upends a percolating vat of molten convenience-store nacho cheese substitute over the trussed-up clerk's head, and as the hapless clerk shrieks and wails -- all the while off-camera in the most budget-friendly manner possible, I should note -- we finally cut to black.
I'm not even going to bother trying to wake Raoul for week's promo. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" You're welcome. up is an episode entitled "Defending Your Life." Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure we won't be getting an amusing self-mocking cameo from Shirley MacLaine. See you then!
Demian knew this episode would suck, but he had no idea it would be this bad. Raoul remains blissfully unaware of the trauma. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" You may reach the former at demian_twop@yahoo.com. The latter is an imaginary gay dragon in a coma on the Internet.