When a snooty Portland-based ballerina quite literally dances her feet off, Our Intrepid Heroes motor on up to Oregon to figure out what's actually going on, and they soon find themselves chasing down a variety of cursed objects that have taken to impelling their various owners towards various grisly deaths. Initially, it seems we might get a taste of Dancing El Deano when the Intrepid Hero in question falls under the spell of the late ballerina's fatal toe shoes, but the boys unfortunately solve the objects-related bit of this evening's presentation pretty quickly, so no Jensen Ackles in tights for you. The objects, as they learn, originated in an exquisitely quaint antiques store, where the supernatural-savvy proprietor had been keeping them all safely under lock and key, but when the woman committed suicide hours after selling her shop to an aggressively acquisitive real estate broker, her grief-stricken and utterly clueless son began selling them off, which of course was very bad news indeed for the items' hapless purchasers.
So, Sam and Dean spend the first half of the episode racing from one end of the city to the other, scooping up evil tea kettles and nefarious gramophones and deeply wicked gentlemen's magazines and whatnot, until their focus somehow shifts from the cursed objects themselves to that rapacious real estate broker, and it turns out Richard Roman's sent a couple of his toothy minions to buy up a significant portion of Portland's main commercial district. Why? Well, according to one of the minions, The Leviathans plan to establish a research facility on the site, with the ultimate goal of eradicating cancer from the planet's human population. And because Our Intrepid Heroes just buy that explanation and motor on off towards their next adventure with nary a peep of protest or disbelief, I guess we have to, as well. They even leave the more helpful of the minions alive, which is just asinine, but whatever. We'll just assume it'll all become clear later in the season, I suppose.
In other news, Lucifer's apparently still nattering away in Darling Sammy's remarkably healthy ear, but because Mark Pellegrino is nowhere to be seen in this episode, that whole subplot ends up being about as exciting as watching Jared Padalecki fall asleep -- which we actually have to do for a minute or two, believe it or not. Oh, and Frank Devereaux might have been whacked after making too many connections between too many of The Leviathans' other earthly projects. Try not to let your grief over this last development overwhelm you. After all, we still have seven episodes left before this season finally ends.
Rattle, Rattle WE DON'T GIVE A SHIT ANYMORE THEN! Four and a half very long years ago, Our Intrepid Heroes were introduced to the daring concept of "cursed objects," and even though this evening's THEN! would have us believe that Sam and Dean were subsequently forced to endure several different varieties of the things over the last several seasons, the show in fact pretty much dropped the whole idea until tonight. Therefore, this evening's THEN! is a LYING LIAR WHO LIES. In other thrilling news, Frank Devereaux ran Dead Bobby's numbers through a probability generator to learn they were actually map coordinates pointing towards a vast swath of Northern Wisconsin that had recently been purchased by Richard Roman. Oh, and Darling Sammy is crazy. Again. Some more. Sigh.
Rattle, Rattle STILL NOT GIVING A SHIT NOW! And when the dripping is done, the camera fades up to focus in on a brood of bitchy bulimics as they trash-talk one of their momentarily absent colleagues, and for the second episode in a row, I'm reminded of the fact that I'd much rather be watching RuPaul's Drag Race. The bitchy bulimics on display here, unfortunately, are not fabulously bedizened ladyboys, but are in fact actual, honest-to-God female ballerinas, and as they pack up their toe shoes in their hellishly over-lit dance studio, the object of their snide derision too-casually sashays through the door to toss them a little shade of her own before stripping down to her filmy rehearsal clothes for a little late-night solo practice session. And no, that is not a euphemism for something filthy, and you really need to stop being so dirty-minded about these things. Thanks.