I wish I had time to research an answer for you, hon, but I've got to get this thing done, already. So, after a lengthy sequence detailing the preparations for the impending showdown with The Six Remaining Deadly Stereotypes, the camera lingers on Darling Sammy ruefully and guiltily sneaking sad little side glances at his doomed yet defiant brother for a bit before an old-timey radio buzzes on -- seemingly of its own accord, natch -- to blare an equally old-timey version of "I Shall Not Be Moved," thereby signaling the approach of the remaining Stereotypes. One problem: Wrath's abandoned the supremacist to take up residence in Dead Isaac for the battle, and The Wrathful Dead Isaac now bellows his wife's name from the front lawn. Tamara, who'd just seconds before had given Bobby a grim and determined nod, now freaks and whimpers -- for she is, in brief, just a weak and backsliding dumbass at her core -- and Isaac bellows and bellows and bellows some more through his magically restored larynx until he's devoured by yet another unusually enthusiastic METAL TEETH CHOMP!
Back from the break, and long story short, The Wrathful Dead Isaac demonically accesses the precise memories still stored in Dead Isaac's brain that ensure his weak and backsliding dumbass of a wife will come charging out of the apparently abandoned Victorian to attack him, thereby breaking the barrier of salt at the front door's threshold that had been their last line of defense. Way to go, Tamara. To her credit, though, she does immediately tackle him to the ground and, while screaming directly into the possessed corpse's still-bleeding face, "You're not Isaac!" impales what's left of him on a stake of super-special demon-repellent wood I think I neglected to note they mentioned in an earlier scene. Ooops. "Paolo Santo, you silly little man! Must I do everything around here?!" Oh, you do not want to go there, my scaly friend -- not after you've spent the last three weeks clogging up my kitchen drain testing your so-called recipes for your supposed cooking show that you'd never get even if The Food Network really did make you an exploratory offer, which they have not! "Libel! Slander! CALUMNY!" Oh, knock it off, you big sissy, and thanks for the assist. Can I get back to the recap, now? "Must you?! I think I enjoy shrieking at you more than rewatching this dreadful episode!" I got two words for you: "Contract" and "deadline." "Ooops! Never mind me, then!"