Before we get into tonight's main action, we first sit through a little bit of backstory -- about six and a half full minutes of backstory, as it turns out -- in which we learn that once upon a time, Our Intrepid Heroes motored on over to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, at the behest of a so-called white witch who'd been foolishly tracking a dark demonic lady-chopping serial killer all by her very lonesome. The boys quickly trap the guy themselves and proceeded to run through their whole exorcism schtick -- after first securing the permission of the hapless postal worker the demon possessed, which was nice of them, I suppose -- and after beating the hapless postal worker's body to a vividly bloody pulp, Dashing El Deano banished the offending swirl of bitterly black demonic foulness back to Hell. Dean then dropped what was left of hapless "Jeffrey" off at a hospital with strict instructions never to talk to anyone about what he just endured.
Flash-forward to the present, and guess what? Jeffrey talked. As a result, he got shipped off to the nuthouse for a very lengthy period of time, and is now working his way through an early-release program of some sort before his crazy ass gets pushed back into the great, big, scary world. Unfortunately for everyone involved, a rash of copycat lady-choppings has cropped up around the town, so Our Intrepid Heroes once again motor on over to Coeur d'Alene at the behest of that so-called white witch to figure out what's going on, and it turns out that Jeffrey's actually a fiendishly clever sociopath who lured the boys back to Idaho so he could complete some sort of demon-freeing spell in order to reunite with that offending swirl of bitterly black demonic foulness, which he now considers to be his One True Love. Or something like that. There was a lot of coma-inducing chit-chat in this episode, but I'm pretty sure that's how it all went down. Needless to say, Sam and Dean can't allow Jeffrey to succeed with this nefarious plot of his, so they join forces with the white witch to re-banish the offending swirl of bitterly black demonic foulness back to Hell -- again, some more -- after which Dean empties his trusty pearl-handled automatic into Psycho Jeffrey's batshit chest.
In other news, we discover that Darling Sammy's been suffering from random Lucifer hallucinations for most of the current season, and in this episode, he makes matters much, much worse by engaging those hallucinations in conversation. Turns out, though, that Satan's quite the helpful little guy when it comes to solving cases, so if you ask me, it might be in Sam's best interests to keep him around for a little while longer. Especially if they can keep Mark Pellegrino on the payroll for the rest of the season, because Mark Pellegrino is delightfully insane in this particular role, and we have been in dire need of some goddamned fun for the last five frigging months.
Rattle, Rattle WE DON'T GIVE A SHIT ANYMORE THEN! For some pointless reason, we're reminded of the fact that there used to be a dark demonic force named Lilith, even though that particular demonette never once makes an appearance in the episode that follows, and then it's on to a series of clips detailing that ill-constructed wall Capital-D Death erected deep within what passes for Darling Sammy's brain before we hit the...
...Nonexistent STILL NOT GIVING A SHIT NOW! Once again, the NOW! got the week off for reasons that quickly become apparent when the words "Four Years Ago" emerge from the inky blackness to loiter at the bottom of the screen for a couple of moments. Just as quickly as they'd arrived, though, those words get obliterated by a cross-fade that tracks through a few low-hanging branches somewhere dark and remote until the camera lands on a nondescript station wagon that's just pulling up behind the much-missed Impala. And as the location card pops up to let us know we've landed in "Coeur d'Alene, Idaho," a casually-attired and extremely well-preserved fortysomething brunette disembarks from the station wagon to mount the rickety wooden steps leading up to a ramshackle cabin's front porch. Soon enough, Darling Sammy swings open the cabin door, and he greets his midnight visitor like so: "Miss Havelock! You shouldn't have come!" Miss Havelock brushes past Darling Sammy's remarkably broad and healthy frame to enter the cabin proper, whereupon she announces, "I needed to see it for myself." "After all that tracking?" she explains, suddenly seeming more than a little nervous for whatever mysterious reason. "All those hours we spent?" she continues, agitatedly wringing her hands. "I mean, it's one thing to study them in books..." she begins before trailing off into a tense silence, during which Darling Sammy sighs and frowns and rolls his impressive shoulders around until he finally and wordlessly agrees to escort his unexpected guest toward one of the dimly-lit cabin's back rooms.
Meanwhile, Dashing El Deano busies himself by ominously scraping a knife against a whetstone while the camera hops over to examine the bruised, bloodied, and demonically-enhanced gentleman now lashed tightly to a chair atop a hastily-scrawled Devil's Trap in the center of Our Intrepid Heroes' makeshift interrogation chamber. The demonically-enhanced gent's sporting a postal worker's uniform, and while he makes no effort to strain against the various ropes and straps that bind him, he does pant quickly and loudly through his nose like some sort of desperately diseased animal, which I guess is pretty creepy. Catching a whiff of Darling Sammy's midnight visitor, the demonically-enhanced gent sneers, "Do I smell menopause?" and maybe I've been watching way too much Drag Race lately, but that sounds like a line one of the less-creative queens would unleash upon a far-superior rival whilst daintily sipping on a smart Absolut cocktail in The Interior Illusions Lounge. And now that I've made that connection in my head, I have approximately zero hope of taking anything that follows seriously, so let's get through this quickly, shall we?