Flutter, Flutter RAAAWWWR! "Eeeeeeeeeeeee!" shrieks Raoul, as is his wont, before your faithful recapper's faithful recapping companion collapses against his cushions in the beginnings of a righteous snit, and Raoul, hon, what gives? "You know perfectly well 'what gives,' you silly little man!" Raoul shrieks by way of reply -- utilizing his immaculately honed claws to provide the necessary air quotes, I should note -- before allowing two perfect circles of furious smoke to pop from his outraged nostrils, and I'm sure I do, friend of friends, but it might make you feel a bit better if you elaborated, perhaps? "Well! I don't know what could possibly make me feel better at this point! The first episode of this charming little Thursday-evening divertissement in months, and where is the GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE?! Certainly not on the screen, I can tell you that!" So, I'm guessing tonight's little plot twist was not to your liking? "IT MOST CERTAINLY WAS NOT!" Raoul! Volume! Please! "Well, I am sorry, I'm sure, but what is the point of this evening's entertainment if a screaming hail of bullets utterly fails to result in absolute fountains of blood gushing from gaping, sucking chest wounds!? It's so... it's so UNFAIR! I! I! I! [Sob!]" Oh, you poor thing. Here, have a Kleenex and pull yourself together, for while this evening's presentation is indeed sadly lacking in the gore department, I believe there's more than enough violence peppered throughout to satisfy even your appetite for such things. "[Sniff!] Really?!" It's true -- don't you remember the little kid? And the rock salt? And the smiting? "Oh, I am such a silly sometimes! Of course I do!" Then may I continue? "By all means! [Honk!]" Excellent.

Some time later, the camera fades in on Dashing El Deano trying and failing to Fonzie a dead diner jukebox back to life while Darling Sammy -- over at one of the tables -- gets off a call with the never-seen Bobby regarding the recent spate of unnatural activity out Wyoming way. Once Dean rejoins his brother at the table to tuck into his delicious-looking bacon double cheeseburger, Sam fills us all in on the details of their new case. Seems the residents of Greybull -- including "James Jenkins" of the pre-credits sequence -- have refused to die over the last week and a half, with one local walking out of a hospice after having initially entered the place in the terminal stages of cancer, and the aforementioned Mr. Jenkins surviving that bullet to the heart. Super-Smart Sammy figures the nasty Wyominginians have been making deals with the devil and, eager to crack their wicked skulls together posthaste, or something like that, immediately snaps shut his laptop to leave while efficiently ordering Dean to get the latter's delicious-looking bacon double cheeseburger to go. Dean, suddenly appearing troubled and sulky for whatever goddamned reason, balks at the order in favor of chewing -- slowly and deliberately -- on a delicious mouthful of cheese-covered bacon until the already-standing Sammy's forced to bark, "What?" "Sure you want me going with you?" Dean leads shamelessly. "Why wouldn't I?" Sam incredulously shrugs, dimly rising to the bait. "Don't wanna be holdin' you back or nothin'," Dean replies, flipping back into Darling Sammy's remarkably broad chest one of the many bitter and true accusations Sam hurled in Dean's direction at the end of the last episode, and let's keep this short, boys, okay? I've got an impressively fanged dragon here who can't wait to see you get your asses kicked by a nine-year-old. "It's true!" Fortunately, the strange little people inside the television set listen to me for once in their benighted lives, and after Sam, frustrated, pleads with Dean to "get past it" already, Dean agrees -- likely because his snotty little point has already been made -- we suddenly find ourselves in...