Now that Our Intrepid Heroes have managed to secure the phoenix ash they need to off The Mother Of All, they of course need to find out where The Mother Of All's been hanging out, so they send My Sweet Baboo off to kidnap one of the friendlier monsters they've encountered in the past -- way, way far in the past, as it turns out, for Castiel returns from his mission with Lenore, that cow-sucking vampire no one's bothered to think about for nearly five years. Lenore, alas, is much the worse for the wear when we meet up with her again, for The Mother's been broadcasting all sorts of nasty messages to her offspring ever since she rose from Purgatory at the beginning of February, and Mommie's constant nagging has driven Lenore to drink. The good thing about this particular telepathic connection, though, is that Lenore and all of the other Mommie Spawn know exactly where the old gal is: Grants Pass, Oregon.
So, after My Sweet Baboo fries what's left of Poor Lenore's brain straight out of her skull (more on that later), the boys plus Bobby and Castiel flutter on over to Oregon, where they find very little of note until a chance encounter with a frat full of slowly disintegrating shapeshifters leads them to a bar full of rapidly decaying vampire-ghoul hybrids, all of whom seem to have been felled by some mysterious fever. After an especially gruesome run-in with the local constabulary -- every last one of whom had been secretly converted to The Mother's cause, of course -- Our Intrepid Heroes finally track The Mother to a diner, where she spends a very lengthy period of time explaining her take on things before Dean rather craftily tricks her into offing herself by sucking on his neck. You see, he'd dumped some of that phoenix ash into a shot of whiskey and downed it, so when Mommie latches on to his carotid for a snack, she ends up with a mouthful of the one thing on the planet that can kill her dead. Pretty sneaky, Dean.
Of course, The Mother's defeat does not mean the end of the angst for Our Dear Boys. Turns out that Crowley's still alive -- something initially claimed by The Mother during her lengthy speech -- and he's apparently been in cahoots with My Sweet Baboo this entire time. I have no idea how they're going to square this shocking twist with everything that's come before it thus far this season, but I have to admit: At least these last couple of episodes haven't been boring. And the body count in this one was spectacular.
Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter THEN! Crowley, as I'm sure you'll recall, spent most of the first half of this season interrogating a wide variety of beasties in what appeared to be an abandoned asylum until My Badass Baboo most awesomely torched the demon's bones, thereby immolating Hell's temporary new master while bringing to a close what had been an exhausting storyline for everyone involved. Shortly after all that happened, we learned that each of those tortured beasties emanated from a single source known as "The Mother Of All," an entity who can only be defeated through judicious application of phoenix ash. So, Our Intrepid Heroes traveled back in time to 1861 to secure a bottle of said ash, which brings us right up to the...
...Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter NOW! The advancing NOW! dissolves into the night sky, allowing the camera to pan down until it lands on a tidy little strip mall currently playing host to, among other establishments, the "8TH STREET SPORTS LOUNGE." And as the camera continues to work its way towards the ground, two boozy frat boys emerge from the SPORTS LOUNGE in question to bitch about the bar's prices until one of them spots The Mother Of All sauntering on over in their general direction from points unknown. Mother, as is her wont, has clad herself in little more than a bloodstained white shift for this portion of tonight's entertainment, and when Douchetard Number One greets her arrival with, "Heaven must be missing an angel!" she unfortunately does not immediately tear his head from his neck with her bare hands. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, once again jumping the gun considerably whilst writhing about atop his overstuffed armchair with delight, and Raoul! "Yes?!" I said "she unfortunately does not immediately tear his head from his neck with her bare hands." "Oh, poop!" Now, there's no need to pout, my scaly friend. "[Sulk!]" Things are about to get quite vicious, I assure you, so if you'll just be patient and let me continue? "Promise!?" Promise. "Then by all means!" Excellent.