Before I get into the episode's details: Oh, my God, the gore in this one was spectacular! Between the first tech geek frying his own head in a goddamned microwave oven and the second tech geek driving a pencil through his carotid and then -- then! -- the security guard getting chopped in half by an elevator? Raoul may never recover. I'm serious. The poor thing passed out 40 minutes into this evening's presentation, and he hasn't so much as budged ever since.
Now. Where were we? Oh, yes: The plot. For reasons that remain unclear until the very end of the episode, Our Intrepid Heroes have been replaced by two Ohio-based cubicle jockeys named "Dean Smith" and "Sam Wesson," director of sales and marketing and tech support associate, respectively, at Sandover Bridge & Iron, where they're helping their tiny patch of corporate America build the dream, or some such horseshit. There's a problem, of course, and it's this: Every time Sam Wesson closes his eyes to sleep, his freakish Cro-Magnon skull's overwhelmed by disturbing dreams that involve him saving grim reapers from demons and whacking hideous ghost children with tire irons while Dean Smith -- this suit he doesn't even know, for Christ's sake -- slices off vampires' heads with industrial-strength chainsaws. Good times. So, of course, when his fellow tech support slaves start offing themselves in manners so spectacular as described above -- the second in front of a horrified Dean Smith who just so happens to catch a ghost's reflection in a nearby bit of glass as it all goes down -- Sam Wesson approaches Dean Smith, and they eventually realize that the unimaginable is actually happening.
Yep, the spectral presence of the firm's founder P. T. Sandover -- lashed to the physical world by a bit of stray DNA in his gloves, which happen to be on display on the company's executive floor -- has been supernaturally screwing with underperforming employees' heads, turning them into hyperachievers who are more than willing to commit suicide upon the slightest workplace indiscretions and failures. (Well, it is a hell of a lot cheaper than downsizing, you must admit.) In any event, Smith and Wesson gradually learn -- with the online help of two distasteful assholes from seasons past who shall remain nameless for the moment -- how to rid their office of the psychotic ghost, and are most stoked indeed when their hastily formed plan works perfectly, after which they immediately quit their jobs, but that's not important because...
...the entire thing's just been some sort of bizarre exercise in bolstering Dean's self-esteem that'd been cooked up by yet another of my sweet baboo Castiel's superiors, this the angel Zechariah, who threw the two boys into a real-world situation without benefit of their memories in order to prove to Our Intrepid Hero that he'd seek out the hunting life no matter what, for it is his fate and his destiny and his nature to do so. Or something like that. Maybe it'll all make sense by the time I get around to writing the full recap. In the meantime, though, I'm gonna go watch that elevator scene again. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Raoul!
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Rattle, Rattle BLOOD-RED THEN! Back at the beginning of the season, as you'll recall, My Sweet Baboo Castiel raised Dashing El Deano from Hell because he and his seemingly never-ending supply of brethren and sistren had work for Our Intrepid Hero to do, including -- as we saw last week -- getting his pretty, pretty face brutalized by Uncle Arthur. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul, The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, writhing about upon his overstuffed armchair with delight over said brutalization's inclusion in this week's THEN!, and-- what gives, my scaly friend? I thought your excessive amounts of joy over wanton acts of unrepentant violence operated with a Don't Hurt The Pretty exclusion clause in place? "I made an exception to the clause for last week! Now do be a charming little man and hurry this along! We simply must reach that titillating elevator scene! Post-haste, even!" As you wish, friend of friends. So, in any event, getting his tantalizing ass handed to him on a demonic platter wasn't Dean's only assignment, post-resurrection. Nope, seems he himself initiated the sequence of events leading to The Apocalypse by inadvertently breaking the first of Lilith's 66 seals, and as My Sweet Baboo revealed at the very end of last week's installment, "The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it." So Deeply Depressed El Deano, despite his thoroughly demoralized mood at the moment, has promises to keep and miles to go before he sleeps. You, however, have but one promise to keep, and that's to shut the hell up for the...
...Slashy, Slashy NOW! The NOW! vanishes almost as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a rather expensive-looking digital alarm clock-slash-iPod dock, whose incessant buzzer erupts at 6 AM on the dot and continues with its infernal bleeping until a pajama'd hand reaches out to shut it off. With that, the opening guitar flourish to "A Well Respected Man" by The Kinks hits the soundtrack, and as Ray Davies launches into the song's first line, we follow as the shot leaps forward a bit in time to watch as the hand from earlier steams up some rice milk for its owner's morning latte, and the camera pulls back, and the hand's owner is Dean. Well, a reasonable facsimile thereof, I suppose, clad in full Gordon Gekko/Bill Lumbergh corporate shithead wear, right down to the red suspenders that match his tie and the French cuffs carefully fastened around his wrists, and he hasn't even opened his mouth yet, but already I want him dead. As the song continues over the action, Dickbag Dean pulls on his jacket and douches outside with his briefcase to his Prius, where -- during a brief pause in the song triggered by his keying the ignition -- Dickbag happily switches the radio station to NPR before heading off to his office. The Prius's license plate indicates we're in Ohio, by the way, but the tower Dickbag ends up at is actually a CGI-heightened version of Vancouver's Marine Building. Just so you know.