Our Intrepid Heroes hop on over to Sturbridge, Massachusetts, because The Glamorous Goddamn Ladies Of Frigging Halliwell Manor have apparently abandoned scenic San Francisco, gone all Dark Side, and are now wreaking havoc amongst the tastefully appointed suburban manses of depressingly damp Worcester County.
Okay, not really, but that's pretty close. Seems an amateur coven of WASPy witches has unwittingly sold its collective soul to an undercover dark demonic force in exchange for, like, lower interest rates on their mortgages, or something, and now all Hell's broken loose, complete with an impressively high body count and several spectacularly gruesome moments involving unexpectedly loose teeth and pale little wriggly things in cheeseburgers. Sam and Dean quickly figure out what's going on -- thanks mainly to some really sloppily hidden hex bags -- and are all prepared to take the witches out by any means necessary when sparkly haired Ruby stops by to order them out of town, pronto, as the undercover dark demonic force will most likely gut Our Dear Boys like trout, so great are her powers. Screaming ensues, but Dean's eventually ready to bail on the job like he's been told to do when he starts hacking up bits of lung, so Action Sammy swings into gear (and gets to drive the Impala for the first time this season), busting up the coven's latinations to shove the business end of The Fucking Colt That Can Kill Anything Except When It Can't into the ladies' faces. Alas, The Fucking Colt That Can Kill Anything Except When It Can't lives up to its name when it fails to blow the undercover dark demonic force away, so it's left to Ruby and her luxuriant tresses to save the boys' tantalizing asses.
And in the end, we learn something special about Ruby that I've totally forgotten about because I really don't care, but I think it involved her getting completely polluted seven days before her twenty-first birthday and then being dimwitted enough to lie about her identity when the Arizona State Police pulled over the SUV she was riding in. How is that going to affect Dashing El Deano's imminent journey to The Underworld?
Rattle, Rattle THEN!, and never have I been so grateful for the previously sequence on this show, because it feels like they haven't aired a new episode in three years, and I don't remember ninety percent of the crap that takes up the next full minute of airtime (in an episode that clocks in at barely thirty-nine minutes without the commercials, by the way, and just to let you know in advance why this recap might end up being unusually brief). So, long story short, then: Ruby The Sparkly-Haired Demon -- seriously, she's like a My Little Pony from Hell -- came from out of nowhere with a Knife That Can Kill Anything (And Actually Does), much to the befuddlement of Our Intrepid Heroes and their grizzled mentor, Bobby, before assisting that self-same grizzled mentor in reconstructing The Fucking Colt That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't and promising Darling Sammy to help Dashing El Deano out of that deal the latter made with The Saucy And Now Deceased Crossroads Demonette at the end of last season. Meanwhile, Sam might be soap, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, because oh, my holy God, did you see what he did to Whackjob Gordon's neck? "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, flailing himself into a tizzy of glee on his overstuffed armchair over the chance to witness such awe-inspiring awfulness once more. "It was decapitation with razor wire!" Raoul howls, giddily clapping his paws together while unnecessarily reminding longtime viewers of what that scene involved, and I am thus forced to make shushing noises in Raoul's general direction, for after Princess Sparkle's vow to be a "little fallen angel" on one of Darling Sammy's remarkably broad shoulders gets run through the METAL TEETH CHOMP!, it's time for the...
...Silence, Silence NOW! The camera pans across the darkened master bedroom just now emerging from the gloom until it lands on a pair of exquisitely attired silhouettes entering from the hall. As the tuxedoed gentleman flicks on a light, his gorgeous wife snaps into well-lit view to sigh about the wretchedly dreary party they'd been forced to attend earlier in the evening, and because I've seen this show before and thus understand that this pre-credits sequence will not end well for either of these people, let's allow them to kiss and purr and canoodle at each other in peace for what certainly will be the absolute last time in their woefully brief lives, shall we? Good. While they're doing that, then, let's jump with the camera as it cuts over to a fearsomely toothy brunette striking a match as she chants Craptin I'll make no attempt to transcribe, because I happily stopped transcribing Craptin two blessed years ago, and I'll be damned if I'm ever picking up that unfortunate habit again. As the brunette touches the match to a white candle's wick, Doomed Wife sashays into the master suite's bathroom to remove her expensive-looking jewelry in front of the mirror, quite justifiably admiring her reflection the entire time. The Craptin continues underneath, and the camera leaps back to the brunette's den of terrifyingly toothy iniquity to pan across a variety of disgusting tools of the voodoo trade before rejoining Doomed Wife, who's about to brush her teeth, and already my hand is flying to my mouth in anticipatory sympathetic agony, because we can all see where this is going, right? Right.