Crackle, Crackle THEN! Way back in 1983, the Winchester family's bÃªte noire nailed Mary Winchester to the ceiling with a foot-wide gash through her torso before burning her alive, thereby effectively scarring Wee El Deano for the rest of his life. Twenty-two years later, The Ceiling Demon returned to give Jessica Moore a little of the same, thereby effectively scarring Darling Sammy for the rest of the series. And finally, after The Ceiling Demon dragged Shut Up Daddy down to Hell in exchange for El Deano's life, Dean decided that the family business just wasn't worth all of the agita and angst that came along with it, as Our Intrepid Heroes receive neither appropriate remuneration nor appropriate amounts of gratitude for their efforts, instead having to make do with nothing more than copious amounts of bad luck. El Deano's such a friggin' downer.
Crackle, Crackle NOW, and heresy! The Impala's sporting a new license plate! "And it's from Ohio, of all the ghastly places on the planet!" Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon notes with distaste. Raoul has issues with Ohio. "Don't get me started!" Up behind the wheel, Dean answers his chirping cell phone to find a tense Sam on the other end of the line. "There's a cop car outside," Sam whispers, eyeing the prowler in question from behind the curtains of their room at the Joliet Motel. "You think it's for us?" Dean wonders. "I mean, I don't see how," he continues. "We ditched the plates and the credit cards." Barely have those words left his mouth when the cop car rolls off harmlessly into the night, and Sam's forced to admit it was all a false alarm. "See?" Dean smirks. "Nothing to worry about." "Yeah, being fugitives," Sam sarcastically agrees, mindful of their newly won place atop the FBI's most wanted list. "It's a frigging dance party." During all that, the camera's passed across the various volumes of research material Sam has open on the motel room's table, one of them featuring an engraving of a four-armed, serpent-tongued figure from Hindu mythology opposite an entry entitled "DJINN." "So, you got anything yet?" Sam asks. As Dean's apparently been tasked this evening with canvassing the fifty square miles of Illinois real estate in which "all the victims disappeared," the answer would be no. Sam's research has, of course, proved more fruitful, as he's now certain they're hunting -- as Dean puts it -- "a friggin' genie." "You think that these suckers can really grant wishes?" Dean scoffs. Sam notes that genies are perhaps powerful enough to do so, but warns, "They're not exactly Barbara Eden in harem pants." Shudder. "I mean," Darling Sammy elaborates, "djinn have been feeding off people for centuries -- they're all over the Koran." Unfortunately for Sam, he lost Dean's attention at the Barbara Eden reference, for his cheerfully louche reprobate of a brother now gazes wistfully into the middle distance and croons, "Barbara Eden was hot, wasn't she? Way hotter than that Bewitched chick." The episode ends abruptly when ravening hordes of Elizabeth Montgomery fans descend upon the Impala to rip El Deano limb from limb. That's a wrap! See you next week, gang!