So. Yeah. Aftermath, and we're meant to believe for whatever hideously stupid reason that Darling Sammy's tempted to lick The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't clean -- hell, we're meant to believe he's sorely tempted to get down on all fours and lick the linoleum clean -- because of that asinine addiction storyline from last season. "Well!" Raoul opines. "It would be a terrible waste just to let all of that delicious-looking gore rot!" I suppose you have a point, friend of friends. "Thanks!" No matter how disgusting that point might be. "Hey!" In any event, long before Sam caves and deep-throats The Knife, or something, Dean arrives from his little jaunt over at the sporting-goods store, finds a panting and crazy-eyed Sam hovering over two enormous pools of demonically enhanced blood, and immediately gets all silently superior and uptight and judgy, so it's truly a blessing that the METAL TEETH CHOMP! chooses this moment to arrive on the scene and drag these idiot goons into the first commercial break, because I'm about to put my fist through the television, and my new roommate would plotz if anything happened to his high-definition plasma screen baby. Ugh.
Church Basement. Aftermath. Also: Training montage! I do love me a good training montage, especially one that so prominently features a gentleman of Lieutenant Hottie's caliber. When the good lieutenant expertly strips a rifle, Dean correctly makes him to be a veteran. Lieutenant Hottie confirms he just recently returned from Fallujah, and wonders where Dean himself served. "Hell," Dean replies. Lieutenant Hottie's all, "No, seriously," and Dean's all, "Seriously," and Lieutenant Hottie's all, "No, seriously," and Dean's all, "Seriously," and Lieutenant Hottie stares at Dean, and Dean stares at Lieutenant Hottie, and Lieutenant Hottie stares at Dean, and again: Arnaghanaghanaghanagh. Meanwhile -- and I realize this will shock you -- Darling Sammy's sequestered himself in a lonesome corner, where he proceeds to brood. I know! That never happens on this show! Dean, having finally managed to tear himself away from Lieutenant Hottie's smoldering gaze, hunkers down next to The Ginormomope to wonder what gives. Long story short, Sam wishes he still had his Mighty Hands Of Discontent, because he would have been able to expel the demons enhancing the grocery yokels without slaughtering the grocery yokels themselves, and as I have never given a rat's ass about the fate of the various demonically enhanced on this show, we'll be skipping ahead to the point where Ellen motors on over to announce, "I'll be back -- I can't sit here on my ass when my daughter's out there somewhere." The gallant and guilt-ridden Ginormomope immediately volunteers his services in the hunt for Jo, but because Dean's still being superior and uptight and judgy about that asinine addiction storyline from last season, Our Intrepid Heroes must of course first exchange Words, and it is as ugly as it is boring, especially when The Ginormomope shoves his older brother's stumpy little bow-legged ass against a wall in a momentary fit of rage, and then the entire worthless confrontation is over, and we can at last head back...
...outside with Sam and Ellen. Ah. "That was giving me a migraine!" You and me both, friend of friends. You and me both. Anyway, as Sam and Ellen saunter down River Pass's main drag, they get to talking, and Ellen -- perspicacious broad that she is -- remarks on the changes in Sam and Dean's relationship since last she saw them. Sam dodges the uncomfortable topic of conversation by mumbling something about the stresses of the job, then slyly flips the uncomfortable topic of conversation back onto Ellen. "Kinda surprised you and Jo are hunting," he notes before asking, "Didn't you always say she couldn't hack the life?" "She can't," Ellen flatly states, "but if she's gonna do it, anyway..." "...you gotta keep an eye on her," Sam finishes. Ellen does not disagree. Their chat's suddenly cut short at this point, for Sam's just noticed a trail of chimney smoke rising up into the afternoon sky. They hustle to investigate, approaching the suspect Victorian through a back alley until they're close enough to spot yet another demonically enhanced yokel standing guard at one of the upstairs windows. "Guess we found base camp," Ellen mutters, but something about the whole set up strikes Sam as terribly wrong. "Demons don't get cold," he frowns, eyeing the chimney smoke, but before he can get any further with that, the two find themselves...ambushed by Rufus and Jo! DUN! Jittery, difficult-to-follow camerawork abounds for the next minute or so, until Demonically Enhanced Jo pins her mother against a wall and allows her eyes to flip beetle black. "Don't you hurt her!" Ellen growls. Demonically Enhanced Jo's response? "Give me my mom back, you black-eyed bitch!" Whaaaaaaa? If Ellen's as confused by this development as I am, she covers it well, and furthermore in short order has beaten Demonically Enhanced Jo to the ground. "Hooray! WE LOVE YOU, ELLEN!" She can't hear you, Raoul. "YES, she CAN! El-LEN! El-LEN! El-LEN! El-LEN! Yay!" Oy. Let's see what Sam's up to, shall we? "Oh, whatever has become of the dear boy, I wonder?!" Why, he's getting his remarkably healthy ass handed to him on a platter, of course! "VIOLENCE!" Yes, as is his wont, Sam flails around uselessly for a very long while until Demonically Enhanced Rufus finally slams the back of his head with a rifle butt, sending the fifteen foot tall freak of woefully inadequate fighting abilities on a very long journey down into the next METAL TEETH CHOMP!
Victorian Of The Damned. Aftermath. The Ginormotron slowly regains consciousness in front of a merrily blazing hearth, only to find himself bound tightly to a chair beneath an awfully familiar-looking devil's trap. D'OH! And no sooner has Sam awakened when Demonically Enhanced Rufus and Demonically Enhanced Jo start in with an exorcism. Buh-whuh? If Sam's as confused by this development as I am, he covers it well, mainly because he doesn't have a choice, because Demonically Enhanced Rufus is dumping an entire canister of rock salt down his throat at the moment, and Our Dear Boy thus has little else to do but gag.