Taking a break from their Leviathan-related troubles for the first time this season, Darling Sammy and Dashing El Deano motor across the country from Spokane to the Detroit suburbs to investigate a couple of extremely unusual deaths. In the first, a former lush named Matthew Hammond got himself run down by a speeding automobile in his apartment, which just happened to be on the tenth floor of a building, and in the second, an animal shelter administrator named Christopher Fisher got his face torn off by a phantom German shepherd in a locked diner bathroom. Our Dear Boys do a little investigating, and it turns out Hammond had mowed down a little girl ten years ago whilst stinko on the booze, and Fisher had run a notorious dog-fighting operation until various circumstances led them both to reform their wicked, wicked ways. The presence of a certain type of red clay at both crime scenes leads Sam and Dean out into the Michigan wilds towards an abandoned hundred-acre apple farm (just go with it), where they nearly ruin the Impala's grille on an aged ex-con who's foolishly darted out into the middle of the highway.
Seems the ex-con had just been released from prison after serving 30 years for the murder of a liquor-store owner and his wife during a robbery gone wrong, and after he'd dropped by a bar named Neal's to drown his parolee sorrows, he found himself suddenly transported to an apple orchard's barn, where a bald Middle Eastern-type in flowy robes presided over a kangaroo court that of course condemned the ex-con to death. Sam and Dean remember that the previous two victims were reportedly last seen at Neal's, so Dean heads to the bar to investigate while Sam lags behind at This Week's Motel Room with the ex-con to conduct further research. Of course, Dean himself goes missing from Neal's almost as quickly as he arrives at the place, so Sam's forced to leave the ex-con all by his lonesome, with predictable results for the ex-con, who gets shot in the face by the ghosts of his liquor-store victims.
Turns out Osiris, the Egyptian god of the dead, has been abducting guilt-stricken patrons of the bar to weigh their hearts back at that apple-orchard barn, and because Dean never shuts the hell up about all the goddamned angst and agita and tsuris in his life, he quite naturally gifted Osiris with an irresistible target the instant he walked into Neal's. Fortunately, Darling Sammy arrives at the barn just in time to present himself as Dean's attorney, and then the entire episode -- which wasn't too thrilling to begin with, mind you -- goes straight down the crapper, with Osiris somehow conjuring up the soul of Jo Harvelle to testify against Dean before calling Sam himself to the stand to bear witness against his brother, and because the trial's outcome is a foregone conclusion, Dean of course ends up sentenced to Death By Jo. Good thing, then, that Dead Jo is as stupid and inept as everyone else on this show, for it allows Sam enough time to call Bobby for a crucial assist, swipe a shofar from The Only Synagogue In Dearborn, drive back to Neal's, and ram the horn straight through Osiris's back, thereby temporarily putting the god out of commission and allowing Dim Dean to extract himself from Dumb Dead Jo's clammy clutches. Or something like that.
And in the end, Sam and Dean stop by a ridiculously scenic stretch of nowhere to yammer away at each other about the importance of trust and forgiveness and deeply felt fraternal love. Probably. To be honest with you, I completely tuned those two morons out at the end of the episode, because, seriously: What's the point? You know it's a conversation they've had at least 129 times before on this show, and with eighteen episodes left in this season, you know it's a conversation they'll be having at least, oh, eighteen more goddamned times before next June.
Rattle, Rattle WE DON'T GIVE A SHIT ANYMORE THEN! Darling Sammy met Amy Pond, and then Dashing El Deano killed her. Oh, and Sam is crazy. You know, in case you forgot about that particular plot point.
Rattle, Rattle STILL NOT GIVING A SHIT NOW!, and this is exciting! Well, sort of. A panic-stricken gentleman, racing on foot through the darkened streets of what the just-arriving location card would have us believe is "Dearborn, Michigan," peels through a deserted intersection, pursued by a black, late-model sedan that's apparently intent on mowing him down, and right here's where this episode started falling apart for me, because no one -- no one -- can outrun a speeding car. And yet, that's exactly what our panic-stricken friend does, leading that black, late-model sedan on a merry chase down the sidewalk until he finally ducks into a handy alleyway where, much to his surprise, he finds that black, late-model sedan already waiting for him at the other end. "That's impossible!" Our Imperiled Friend pants, right before spinning around and darting back the way he came, the sedan nipping at his heels until Our Imperiled Friend disappears into his convenient apartment building. The soon-to-be-dead gent opts for the stairs to reach his tenth-floor apartment, where he locks himself in and leans against the wall to repeat to himself, "You're okay! You're okay!" so we of course suspect he's not okay at all, a suspicion that's confirmed the instant his heaving breaths start fogging up in the apartment's suddenly supercooled air. DUN! And sure enough, the angry roar of a car's engine erupts behind him, and Our Imperiled Friend turns to find himself staring straight into the headlights of that late-model sedan. The car's engine revs, and as Our Imperiled Friend howls, "Nooooooo!" that late-model sedan rams Our Imperiled Friend right into this evening's...
...SNOT ROCKET! "Wasn't that a little fast?!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon. "I mean," he shriekily continues, "don't they normally tease us a bit longer with the titillating lead-up to the evening's first death!?" I think you're right, my scaly friend, but for one thing, I really don't have time to go back and check every other episode this series has ever aired, and for another, I'm pretty sure they needed to keep this opening bit short to accommodate all the endless talking that follows in the episode proper. "Oh, no!" wails Raoul, pressing a weary yet impeccably manicured paw against his forehead. "You mean they...!" Raoul gasps, appalled. "They talk tonight?!" Yeah. "And nothing else!?" Not really, no. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" I'm so glad you don't get a cut of the payout for these things, Raoul. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" God, it's going to be a long night.