The episode opens with a flashback to the last night of H. P. Lovecraft's life way back in 1937, and if you thought he died from intestinal cancer, Supernatural is here to prove you wrong, unless "intestinal cancer" is code for "getting his lungs ripped out through his nose by some unknown Purgatorial beastie." As we learn over the course of the episode thanks to Bobby's diligent investigation of the matter, it seems Lovecraft held a special sort of séance five days before he died with six of his closest friends, and they somehow managed to open a portal to Purgatory. Only one beastie fell out of the thing while the ceremony was going on, but that beastie possessed Lovecraft's housekeeper, and we're meant to believe the Purgatorially-enhanced lady then went on to slaughter the author and all of his friends over the course of the next several months.
And why, you ask, would she do such a thing? Because, as it turns out, she finds eternal life on Earth far preferable to her previous existence, and she's determined not to let anyone else ever open that portal to Purgatory again. And how do we know this? Because Lovecraft's possessed housekeeper is actually that professor with the dragon-slaying sword we last saw five months ago. Bet you didn't see that one coming, did you? In any event, Bobby warns the good Doctor Visyak -- and yes, I had to look that up -- to watch her back because both Castiel and Crowley are hot on her trail, so of course the good Doctor Visyak gets herself kidnapped by My Sweet Baboo right as the episode ends. D'OH!
In other news, Crowley and a couple of his henchdemons barge into Bendy Estates to abscond with Lisa and The Brat, mainly to use them as leverage against Dashing El Deano. With a little help from both Castiel and Balthazar, Dean invades Crowley's lair to rescue his ex-girlfriend and maybe-son, but only after the snarling demonette inside Bendy Lisa's body stabs itself in Bendy Lisa's gut with a chisel. A supposedly tense race to the hospital follows, and things are not looking so good for everyone's favorite yoga instructor when Castiel flutters in both to heal her and -- at Dean's request, I should note -- to erase all memory of the Winchesters and things that go bump in the night from her brain. (My Sweet Baboo pulls a mind-wipe on The Brat, as well, but it's Bendy Lisa we're meant to care about. I think.) And in the end, Dean gets all weepy in the Impala while Sam flusters around helplessly at his side, and it's all as dull as I'm making it sound.
Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter THEN! Bendy Lisa and The Brat broke up with Batshit El Deano, like, eighteen years ago, and then Bobby sent Dean to meet with Doctor Visyak, a Medieval Studies professor at "San Francisco University" who let him touch her sword. Meanwhile, it turns out My Sweet Baboo's been secretly working with Crowley all season long to open a portal into Purgatory so the two might feast on the beastie souls they find therein, so Dreary El Deano broke up with Castiel two weeks ago. Got all that? "I do!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, who for once has prestocked his cunning little drinks cart with hundreds of soothing flagons well in advance of this episode's start, for he knows we're in for a very, very long night. "How ever shall we endure it, I wonder?! [Slurp!]" Oh, I think you've got a handle on that one -- just be sure to pace yourself, doll. "Hee!" Are we ready for this? "We are not!" Too bad. Hit it!
Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter NOW!, and once again, the Tacky Blue Glitter NOW! is a LYING LIAR WHO LIES, for no sooner has it vanished from the screen than a little card appears to inform us we've landed in Providence, Rhode Island on a dark and stormy March 15th, 1937. As the camera begins its slow pan through a well-appointed study, we can hear the sounds of someone furiously pounding away on a typewriter somewhere just off-screen, and as a particularly punishing thunderstorm continues to rage away in the night outside, the camera eventually lands on the bespectacled gent responsible for all the clattering racket over at the study's massive desk. To be honest with you, he's a pretty fast and remarkably accurate typist, despite the fact that he appears to be using only his index fingers. We should also probably take into consideration the additional fact that he's slugging back bourbon like they're about to reinstate Prohibition in the morning. "Atta girl! [Slurp!]" The bespectacled gent types and types and types some more until he finally taps out "THE END" in bold black letters, and as he arranges the pages of his manuscript on his blotter, the study door slowly creaks open, seemingly of its own accord. DUN! The dim lights surrounding him buzz and blink and flicker on and off, and while that might be attributable to the electrical storm raging on the other side of his windows at the moment, it's probably because a foul and noisome beastie has just invaded his home, for when the bespectacled gent calls out, "Hello?" he receives nothing but an ominous silence by way of reply. Dun-dun-DUN!