Supernatural
Good God, Y'All

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The Hardy Boys Gotta Have a Friend in Jesus
fraid the sudden appearance of a loaded revolver aimed right at Dean's head precludes any sort of amiable chit-chat between us at the moment. "Eeeep!"

"Eeeep!" indeed, for the hand that holds the revolver has just cocked back its hammer, and Dean immediately spins around with his sawed-off shotgun at the ready to find...the fabulous Ellen Harvelle! "Hi, Ellen!" shrieks Raoul, waving madly and foolishly at the television screen, so much has Ellen's depressing absence from this show over the last two seasons affected his ability to differentiate between reality and the tiny little non-existent people in the TV set. "Hello, boys," Ellen opens, quite rightly ignoring the imaginary gay dragon shrieking at her from the Internet. She lowers her revolver as she approaches them, the better to...hurl a flask full of holy water into Dean's face! Hee! Dean somehow manages to refrain from indulging in the perfectly executed spit-take we've come to expect from him in situations such as this in favor of simply -- and quite amusingly, what with the exasperation dripping from his tone -- stating, "We're us." Ellen magnificently sweeps past them to...

...enter the church across the street, stepping across a devil's trap spray-painted on the floor as she does so. Sam and Dean follow, and it's only after Sam's shut the door behind them that Ellen allows her brusque fa├žade to drop, her voice breaking as she pulls Dean up in a tight embrace while admitting, "Real glad to see you boys!" She draws away first, taking a moment to give Dean a fond once over, and then smacks him clear across his face! "VIOLENCE!" shrieks Raoul, practically cackling with glee while clapping his perfectly manicured paws together, and you'll forgive me for asking you this, but I thought you had rules forbidding such reckless disregard of Our Dear Boys' primary assets. "I do!" Raoul nods. Then what gives? "Ellen can do whatever she wants! WE LOVE YOU, ELLEN!" I give up. "Hee!" In any event, Ellen immediately follows that spectacular slap up with, "You can't pick up a phone? What are you, allergic to giving me peace of mind? I gotta find out you're alive from Rufus?" Heh. Dean, chastened, mumbles an apology, and after Ellen orders him in tones that will brook no dissent to put her on his speed dial, pronto, her expression softens, and she turns to lead them down the stairs. Before they follow, Dean shoots Sam a hilarious "The hell?" face that Sam just as hilariously returns in kind, and they proceed to plunge themselves into this week's exposition. Long story short, the entire town's possessed, save for those unfortunates already dead and the few who have managed to find sanctuary in the church basement. Having reached the barricaded doors below, Ellen raps on the wood while identifying herself, and when her apparent lieutenant down there in the church basement opens the door to grant her entry, I find myself momentarily rendered preverbal by all of the hotness suddenly blazing forth from my television set. Arnaghanaghanaghanagh. "I must admit, that elaborately scruffy young gentleman does appear to be quite the scrumptious little treat!" Back off, lizard man, he's mine. "Well! I never! There's no call to get snippy, I'm sure!" There'd be no call to get snippy if you would BACK THE HELL OFF. "Hmph!"

And now that Raoul's descended into a righteous snit, where the hell was I? Oh, yes: Lieutenant Hottie opens the basement door, and as he steps aside to grant entrance to Our Intrepid Heroes plus Ellen, the camera glides past to take in the other refugees: A priest, a thirtysomething blonde, a lady of color, a flannel-swaddled schlub, a pair of expecting newlyweds, a trucker, Jasper Beardley, and Titus Welliver, and as Titus Welliver is the only actor amongst the lot of them that I recognize, he is immediately suspect as far as this evening's events are concerned until proven otherwise. (Spoiler: It's never proven otherwise.) Brief introductions are made, and Lieutenant Hottie opens his mouth to speak, and I am once again rendered preverbal, so let's join Titus Welliver as he describes the absolute worst day of his life, shall we? "My wife's eyes turned black -- she came at me with a brick. Kinda makes you embrace the paranormal." I'll bet. By the way, Titus Welliver's sporting his wedding band on the wrong hand. Just thought you should know.

In any event, introductions thus so tersely dispensed with, Our Intrepid Heroes huddle with Ellen to strategize. Seems Rufus rolled into town on the trail of some suspicious omens right before the shit hit the fan, and he initially called in Ellen and Jo for an assist. By the time the Harvelle gals arrived, however, Rufus had disappeared, and Ellen quickly became separated from her daughter. Ellen's been barricaded in the basement with the other survivors ever since, save for their one disastrous attempt at escape, which reduced their numbers from twenty to the current eleven. Sam immediately proposes arming the entire group, as he correctly reasons that the more salt they can fire at once, the more demons they can keep at bay, so he and Dean spin around to head back outside in order to raid that sporting-goods store. Of course, the instant Lieutenant Hottie's shut the doors on them, Dean gets all weird about letting Sam out to gallivant around the demon-infested countryside because of last season's asinine blood addiction storyline, and the two are on the verge of one hell of a tedious fight when Dean uncharacteristically decides to back down, and thank God for that, and then we're off to...

...the town's main drag, where the two split up to procure the necessary provisions, despite the fact that Dean's clearly uneasy letting Sam wander away from him for so much as a second. Within moments, though, Solitary Sammy's collapsed his gargantuan fifteen-foot-frame almost all the way down to the floor in the burg's sole grocery store, filling a plastic carrier bag with canisters of rock salt, and things seem to be going well until...two demonically enhanced yokels wander through the front door! DUN! I have no idea how this is possible, but Sam crouches down even lower than he'd been before, silently cursing himself all the while for placing his sawed-off shotgun just out of easy reach, all the while monitoring the demonically enhanced yokels' progress through the aisles via the store's security mirror. The larger of the yokels ends up closest to Sam, and proceeds to stuff a backpack with bottled water while Sam strains to reach his shotgun without making any noise. Of course, he ends up knocking over a couple of tin cans, and of course, manly tussling ensues, and of course, both because it's Thursday and because Sam still suh-huuuuucks at the hand-to-hand, the demonically enhanced yokel quickly wrestles Our Intrepid Hero into a death-grip choke-hold, despite the fact that the demonically enhanced yokel is at least nine feet shorter than The Ginormotron. Sam valiantly attempts a verbal exorcism nevertheless, but his hasty Latination only serves to piss the demonically enhanced yokel off even more, so Sam has little choice but to draw The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't from his belt and jam the thing's business end into the yokel's chest. One down, one to go, but this second kill's far quicker, as Sam doesn't even attempt to save the demon's host, and simply runs The Knife's blade through the remaining demonically enhanced yokel's neck. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Feeling better? "Yes, thanks! Very much so, indeed!" Excellent. I trust you noticed something amiss with that last kill? "I did not!" Really? "Really!" The fact that The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't didn't kick out any sparks to light up the yokel

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