Werewolves. Yes, they finally went there. I guess I thought they went there before, but it was just a Wendigo? Anyway, a sloe-eyed paralegal is being stalked by her ex -- a creepy dude, who looks like a jacked-up, overgrown, unmowed Michael Ian Black -- and one of the lawyers in her firm ends up not just dead, but ripped-apart-on-the-boardroom-table dead. And his heart is missing. This episode totally would have played well around Valentine's Day.
Meanwhile, after Sam wins a paper-scissors-get-your-rocks-off, he gets to hang with the sloe-eyed lady of the lowlands -- turns out her name is Madison -- as protection, and tries hard to make a move. Which, for Sam, means watching soaps with Madison and NOT making a move, but then somehow letting her slip through his fingers as she wolfs out, shreds her ex, and smacks Dean around a little bit. After tying Madison up, Sam and Dean learn that Madison was bit and turned by a mugger in the same area where lots of shredding and heart-stealing has been happening. Sam has puppy-love eyes for Madison, so he wants to cure her, which -- according to Daddy's old and thoroughly unreliable research -- means killing the pit bull who turned her.
Of course, it turns out that her sire is a Jack the Ripper-ish werewolf, who has a penchant for stalking prostitutes in Hunter's Point. Also, it's Madison's creepy neighbor, Glenn. Dean dusts Glenn with some silver and all seems well. So well, in fact, that next bit of time is spent making sure Madison doesn't turn on one given night, and then giving Sam a niiiiiice, loooooong love scene with too many muscles to count -- six-pack, biceps, pecs, backâ¦shit, they rippled EVERYWHERE! Unfortunately, after a night of hot love, Madison is back to her old bitchy tricks with the bad teeth and yellow eyes. After a call to Bobby, who confirms that the severing the wolfish bloodline never works and reversal is impossible, Sam still insists they have to save her. Because he sees his own evil predilections in the wolf girl. Madison begs Sam to shoot her, knowing it's the only way to save her. Like, way to pile yet another chick's death on Sam's conscience and make sure he never has sex again! Dammit. But this isn't about me, so Sam cries a lot and then kills Madison. And his libido.
Ooh, and it's all set in my town, San Francisco, which is sure to bring back skanky, funbag-colored memories for Demian.
Before we begin, Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon would like to take a moment of your time to make the following announcement. "Thanks! [Ahem!] Keckler is the bomb! Hee! See what I did there?!" Yes. Yes, we see what you did there. Very nice, Raoul. "I certainly thought so!" And now, on with the recap:
Crackle, Crackle NOT! Yes, once again they forego the Crackle, Crackle!s in favor of leaping right into the middle of this week's action. Well, almost, for the camera must first fade up on a hideously nightmarish flashback for yours truly: Stock footage of the San Francisco skyline just after sunset as viewed from a helicopter leaping over the Bay Bridge to float over towards The Embarcadero. Just as the groovin' guitar line grinding beneath the cheaply rented visual is joined by a set of funky electronica drums, the shot cuts to the interior of a ragingly popular nightclub thronging with dot-bomb yuppies of the heterosexual persuasion, and I am never, ever going to escape Charmed, am I? For as long or as short as I live, it will always be there, lurking, ready to pop up when I least expect it so it might jiggle its lewd and trashy Fun Bags directly in my face. I hate life. The camera tracks through the crowd of douchebags and the poor, put-upon women unfortunately tasked with serving them booze to land upon a table at the center of the room, around which perch four lovely young ladies braying and guffawing like jackasses over the sorts of over-elaborate cocktails that make me positively homicidal whenever I get stuck in line behind someone rude enough to order the nasty and time-consuming things at my local. One of the women is Emmanuelle Vaugier, perhaps best known to Television Without Pity regulars as Doctor Dropkick from Smallville, the sultry siren who tricked Lex Luthor into marriage before leaving him to die on a desert island after conspiring to kill him in the crash of his pilotless private jet. Or something like that. It was a couple of years ago, and I can't be expected to remember every last little detail. The point is, she's the one to watch during what follows.
And what follows is this: A plaid-tied gentleman over at the bar proper slugs back one last mouthful of courage before he angles his way through the crowd up to Emmanuelle Vaugier's wildly uneven eyes. "Hey, Maddie," he opens, thereby gifting Emmanuelle Vaugier with her character's name for the evening. "Listen, I hate to pull you away, but I'm gonna need you to come back to the office with me." If you know what he means, and I think you do, and you'd better know what he means, because Maddie here understands instantly, and you don't want to be dumber than one of the fake little people in the television set, now do you? In fact, not only does Maddie understand the true nature of this gentleman's request instantly, but so do her three companions as well, for they all shoot each other pairs of amused eyes at this gentleman's absolutely appalling seduction techniques. So, you know, if you didn't know what he meant, I'd suggest you keep that shameful piece of information to yourself, because you are now stupider than four of the fake little people in the television set, and as every single one of them is the sort of braying straight woman who would order an unnecessarily over-elaborate cocktail at an extremely trendy bar during the height of the happy hour rush, that would make you somewhat less intelligent than a can of margarita mix right about now.