After opening with an unexpected (and unexpectedly horrific) bank-vault massacre perpetrated, apparently, by Our Intrepid Heroes, the episode leaps back to reveal what's actually going on: Leviathan Chet -- he of the especial fondness for convenience-store cheese -- actually swiped a bit of Sam and Dean's DNA from Last Week's Motel Room, and two of his fellows have cloned themselves into the boys to embark upon a multi-state killing spree designed to bring the hammer of American justice down upon the real Sam and Dean's heads. Yes, it's an unnecessarily complicated scheme to get the guys out of their way when the Leviathans should just be shooting the Winchesters in the face with those fancy TEC-9s they've managed to procure for themselves, but it led to one of the most entertaining episodes this show's produced in a very, very long time, so whatever.
With Bobby's assistance -- of course -- the real Sam and Dean first attempt to mask their identities with the help of some master forger and all-around paranoid lunatic named Frank Devereaux, but eventually, they decide the only way to deal with the situation is to confront it head-on, because Sam and Dean are idiots. Well, actually, they decide to confront the situation head-on mainly because Fake Sam 'N' Dean manage to rack up an absolutely appalling body count in just a few short days, but I think we can all agree that Sam and Dean are idiots just the same. In any event, Sam plots out the Leviathans' spree killings on a map of the United States, tracing them from Jericho through Black Water Ridge to Lake Manitoc and St. Louis to realize the Leviathans are hitting the very same towns Our Dear Boys did way back in Season One, and in the exact same order. So, they motor on over to Ankeny, Iowa, to head the Leviathans off at the pass, as it were, only to find themselves promptly arrested by the fantastically competent local constabulary while their Leviathanically enhanced doppelgangers look on with evil smiles on their faces. Fortunately for the real Sam and Dean, though, Bobby's learned that borax quickly reduces Leviathans to clumps of charred and mangled flesh and, after they convince the Ankeny sheriff of the truth, the real Sam and Dean douse the fake Sam and Dean with various cleaning products before decapitating them. Problem solved, right?
Not quite. In a quick, end-of-episode scene between the lead Leviathan and Crowley, of all people, we learn that the Leviathans have infiltrated the highest levels of power in the United States, including several government agencies and some of the largest corporations. DUN! Now, watch as the idiots in charge of this mess drop this shocking development completely for the next five or six episodes so we can instead watch as Dreary El Deano tries to out-emo The Ginormomope again, some more.
Rattle, Rattle WE DON'T GIVE A SHIT ANYMORE THEN!, and it's Leviathan 101, more or less: Sheriff Jody, momentarily ensnared by the shapeshifting beasties in Sioux Falls General Hospital; the Leviathanically enhanced version of her doctor, discreetly devouring the unfortunate gent he modeled himself upon; Leviathan Edgar, stubbornly refusing to die even though Dean dropped a car on him; Leviathan Chet, oozing bitterly black Leviathan goo from the fresh bullet hole Dean pumped into his chest at Last Week's Other Motel Room; James Marsters, momentarily disabling Leviathan Chet with a bit of extra-fancy mojo. You know, the usual. Oh, and the THEN! would of course be remiss were it not to make mention of Dead Amy Pond, whom nobody cares about, ever. Have we covered everything, here? "We have!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, who just so happens to be all peppy and alert this evening because he'd heard rumors of mayhem and bloodshed attached to this particular episode. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Would you wait for it, Raoul? "Oh, my! I do apologize, I'm sure! Please continue!" Excellent.
Rattle, Rattle STILL NOT GIVING A SHIT NOW!, and barely has the dripping begun before we cross-fade to the bustling interior of the "First Bank Of Jericho." Our Intrepid Heroes wander into the near blurry foreground of the shot and stand there for a moment, taking in the scene, until the camera leaps around to capture Darling Sammy's face as he warily wonders, "You sure about this?" "Trust me," Dashing El Deano nods, all grim determination and flaring nostrils and such. Darling Sammy comes thisclose to rolling his eyes, but he remains silent and stands by the bank's front door to watch as Dashing El Deano lopes up to the next available teller, who just so happens to be a perky young brunette with a winning smile, and my, but that's convenient. For once, I'd love to see him try to pull the flirting that follows with an utterly indifferent battleaxe of a middle-aged broad. Or, you know, a guy. In any event, Dashing El Deano leans insouciantly against the counter and addresses "Megan" by name, complimenting her on her especially drab beige dress while surreptitiously signaling to Darling Sammy behind his back. Sneaky Sam just as surreptitiously slides over to shut and lock the bank's front door, and he resumes standing guard as Dean convinces Perky Megan to change a hundred for him, even though he doesn't have an account. And as Megan drops her head to dip into her drawer, Our Intrepid Heroes exchange A Look Fraught With Significance, and...wait a minute. Is that...is that a frigging machine gun Sam's just now magically produced from his jeans pocket? "I believe it is!" Raoul shrieks, ever helpful, and thanks for the input, friend of friends, but how did he stuff that goddamned thing down his jeans? "The dear boy does seem to be quite talented, does he not!?" No comment.