The episode opens with a most delectably shirtless Darling Sammy rolling around in his lonely Oklahoma motel room bed to find... Burnt Jessica lounging around upon the duvet beside him! And that's got to be the fastest Start-To-DUN! in this show's history. Alas, it is our collective destiny not to learn the reason for her post-immolation visit until the end of the episode, so it's off we go to One Week Earlier, where we watch as Darling Sammy arrives in Garber, Oklahoma, shortly after last week's break-up with Dean, and we continue to follow along as he snags a conveniently available busboy position in one of the local watering holes, where he and his patently obvious hotness immediately attract the ardent attentions of an annoying little blonde twentysomething waitron, because Sam is hot, and Garber has only 845 residents, so this Lindsay person has approximately zero other options, and also because Sam is hot.
Soon enough, strange omens erupt across the vast nearby wasteland known as Enid, and a trio of Sucky John's old hunting buddies roll into town to slice up a little off-screen demonic ass, but of course, one of the demons involved accidentally-on-purpose spills the details of Sam's role in initiating the Apocalypse currently in progress, so Sam must defend both his honor and the annoying little blonde waitron's life through a vigorous bout of fisticuffs, at which he still suh-huuuuuucks, but he somehow manages to emerge victorious via some sort of Hell-sent miracle I've already forgotten about.
Meanwhile, Dashing El Deano's set up shop in Pike County, Pennsylvania, and it's working out quite well for him, all things considered, until My Sweet Baboo flutters in with news that Raphael's been spotted stomping around Colby College, so the heavenly angel and his earthbound boyfriend hop into the Impala for a little road trip in order to beat God's current location out of the guy. Unfortunately, Raphael's of the considered opinion that God is dead, and so much for the eight and a half hours Dean and Castiel just wasted on the road. Well, except for the part where Dean forces Castiel upon a hooker in a whorehouse, I suppose.
And in the end, Burnt Jessica morphs into Lucifer, for Sam's been hallucinating, because while Lucifer can't pinpoint Sam's location, he can still invade Sam's sleepytime to fuck with Our Dear Boy's mind, and oh, what a mindfuck it is when Lucifer reveals that Darling Sammy is actually the devil's One True Vessel. Oh, Sam!
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Rattle Rattle THEN! In the beginning, Darling Sammy had a shapely, Smurf-loving blonde fiancée named Jessica, who most memorably found herself nailed to the ceiling with a foot-wide gash through her torso right before Azazel set her on fire, after which she fled to Dillon, Texas, where she changed her name and began enjoying the company of a variety of gentlemen whose penises are not fatal. Much later, Dashing El Deano learned he's the officially designated angel condom for St. Michael shortly after someone smote the crap out of Castiel, who unexpectedly found himself completely restored thanks to the magical intervention of an entity or entities unknown, so My Sweet Baboo -- adorably leaping to conclusions by believing God Himself was responsible for said magical restoration -- decided to set off on his own to track down his mysteriously missing benefactor in order to have that benefactor smite Lucifer, and thus Castiel missed the still-later moment when Sam and Dean broke up. And as the agonies of the fangirls echoed across the Internet, I, your faithful recapper, delighted in telling them all to shut the fuck up so we don't miss the...
...Slashy, Slashy NOW!, for Christ's sake. Stupid screaming fangirls. As the NOW! advances forward into the blackness, it briefly shares screentime with the neoned façade of The Great Plains Motel before both NOW! and façade vanish completely in favor of a far more entertaining sight, indeed: Darling Sammy, shirtless, asleep on a motel room bed. Yum. Also: Yowza. "I'd forgotten what an expressive back the dear boy has!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, fluttering a perfectly manicured paw in front of his face to cool his overheated and somewhat drooly maw, and just wait until he rolls over, my scaly friend. "Oh, mercy!" Raoul shrieks again, sounding a little woozy and light-headed this time around, so you'll have to excuse us for a moment while I fetch Raoul's smelling salts from his den, as I wouldn't want him to pass out and tumble off his overstuffed armchair like he did during last Sunday's Mad Men, partly because he's too damned heavy to hoist off the fricking floor, but mainly because he's about to tumble onto my roommate's morbidly obese cat, and that's the sort of mess I'd be happy never to deal with in my life, thank you very much.
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