When news of a suspicious rash of suicides reaches him, Secretly Evil Sammy decides that This Is Their Kind Of Thing, and he drags Deeply Dubious El Deano down to Springfield, where it soon becomes clear someone made the stupid mistake of summoning Veritas, the ancient goddess of truth. Now whenever anybody in the town wishes for a little honesty in their lives, they immediately get bombarded with the entirely candid opinions of family, friends, coworkers, and complete strangers to the point where the unfortunate recipients of these unvarnished sentiments have little choice but to off themselves, after which their corpses mysteriously vanish from the city's morgue.
Our Intrepid Heroes eventually realize that Veritas is masquerading as local investigative journalist Ashley Frank, and when they break into her house to slaughter The Goddess, they find out what's been happening to all those missing bodies: Veritas has a taste for human flesh, so her basement looks like Ed Gein's rec room. The Goddess herself soon enough deigns to make an appearance and -- after she smacks them around for a bit, natch -- the boys finally manage to impale her with a poker and a couple of hunting knives.
Of course, all of the above is only half the story, because what would an episode of Supernatural be without Matters Of Great Wangsty Import? After last week's wacky vampiric hijinks, Dreary El Deano's deeply distrustful of Secretly Evil Sammy, so when he himself gets infected with Veritas's truth mojo, he immediately puts Secretly Evil Sammy on the spot by demanding an explanation for Secretly Evil Sammy's near-fatal inaction outside The Black Rose. Secretly Evil Sammy claims he froze with fear at the most inopportune of moments, but this is eventually revealed to be a filthy LIE when Veritas herself realizes her mojo has no effect on Secretly Evil Sammy, because Secretly Evil Sammy is "not human." DUN! And in the end, Openly Evil Sammy admits he did, indeed, Come Back Wrong For The Thirty-Eighth Or Thirty-Ninth Time Since This Godforsaken Series Began, so Deeply Depressed El Deano smacks the pretty clean off Openly Evil Sammy's face. Oh, and Bendy Lisa told Dean to go blow because she can't handle his psychotic ass. And then Veritas got Dean to admit he's dead inside. Why doesn't he just end it all, already, and put us out of his misery?
Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter THEN! And as this week's THEN! does little more than detail last week's Twilight-themed atrocity while reminding us of the fact that Secretly Evil Sammy's Come Back Wrong For The Fifty-Eighth Or Fifty-Ninth Time Since This Godforsaken Series Began, I'll be skipping right ahead to the...
...Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter NOW! "He said he'd call, but he never did," a sprite-like Biggerson's waitress moans into her cell phone as the location card at the bottom of the screen informs us we've arrived in Calumet City, Illinois, for this evening's festivities, and you might want to make note of the suspicious-looking and filthy bandage the wee lady's got wrapped around her left wrist, as upon rewatch I believe it might indicate a certain preexisting predilection for self-destructive behaviors on her part. Which if it does, then: Pretty sneaky, show. In any event, the tiny lass -- "Jane," if her nametag's being honest about her identity -- continues to babble about her tedious relationship issues instead of, you know, doing her job until her stern-faced manager catches her eye to toss her A Look, at which point she concludes her babbling with, "I just need the truth, that's all!" before hanging up. The camera zooms in for an extreme close-up of her mouth at that last bit, by the way, and a tiny little sparkly flourish hits the soundtrack as she utters the sentence's central word, so we can tell some wacky supernatural hijinks are afoot during everything that follows. Just so you know.
Cut to the kitchen, where the wacky supernatural hijinks commence when the cook slides Jane her latest order before leaning across the warmer to emphasize, "I pity you." "I'm sorry?" Jane asks, the smile on her face faltering a bit. "You're sad and pathetic," the cook elaborates, "and I pity you." He then glances down at a bowl on the warmer and warns, "Stay away from the clam chowder -- I flavored it with my own...seasoning." Jane has the gall to look shocked and appalled by the cook's latter admission, like she's never dosed an obstreperous customer's appetizer with something foul herself in all her many years of waiting tables, then composes herself before sailing out to the dining room, where her stern-faced manager calls her aside to note, "You know that new girl, Misty? Way hotter than you." "'Scuse me?" Jane mewls, starting to get more than just a little unsettled by all the wacky supernatural hijinks erupting around her. "Basically, she's an eight," the manager blithely continues, blind to Jane's obvious distress, "and you're a three." Jane's face falls, but she manages to pull it together long enough to approach an elderly diner and ask, "Can I get you anything else?" "No, thank you," the proper and poshly toned woman replies before blurting out, "I ran over a homeless man once, and I never even stopped to see if he was alive!" And then the little girl sitting at the counter perks, "I hate mummy! I want to burn her in her sleep!" "I don't know what it is," the busboy immediately proceeds to confide, "but you just give me the creeps -- like, I get physically nauseous!" "You're pathetic!" someone else shouts. "Loser!" Jane hears from another corner of the floor. "Stupid!" "Nasty!" "You're a desperate, pathetic loser!" "You're gonna die alone!" By this point, Jane's skulked over to the manager's station and pulled the restaurant's revolver from its hiding place beneath the register. DUN!
Out in the reception area, Jane rings up the Olivia person she'd been babbling at earlier and, hyperventilating just a tiny bit, she pleads, "Can you come get me?" "You sound awful," the Olivia person drones from her end of the line. "Have you been drinking?" "I think I'm going crazy!" Jane wails. "I'm freaking out!" "Of course you are," Olivia wearily sighs, "because you are a freak." "You're certifiable!" Olivia continues, anger and irritation beginning to color her tone as hapless and doomed Jane draws the cell away from her ear to stare at it in disbelief. "Every time the phone rings," Olivia's disembodied voice growls, "my stomach drops." "Jane's got another crisis!" Olivia mocks as Jane slowly draws the restaurant's revolver from her apron. "The whole family's just waiting for you to have another breakdown," Olivia sneers as Jane slowly presses the revolver's barrel to the underside of her chin. "We're like hostages!" Olivia complains as Jane slowly lifts her hopeless eyes to the heavens. "Why don't you just go ahead and kill yourself already!" Olivia snarls as the camera slowly climbs from Jane's defeated expression to take in the enormous Biggerson's sign above her head, and then? SPLAT! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, writhing about atop his overstuffed armchair with delight as Jane's brains spray upwards across the sign to obscure Biggerson's "The Happy Place!" slogan with great big chunks of drippy crimson irony. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul again when bits of Jane's shattered skull drop wetly from the sign to the floor. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks the dizzy lizard one final time as the camera lovingly lingers on the carnage for a few very long seconds until we're all assaulted by the...
...Tinkle, Tinkle RAAAWWWR! "Oh, poop!" pouts Raoul, two perfect circles of smoke puffing out from his exquisitely outraged nostrils as he immediately slumps into a tacky-title-card-induced torpor atop his overstuffed armchair. "Just when we were starting to have a little bit of fun!" he grumps. "And then they had to positively ruin it with that...! That...! That monstrosity!" There, there, my scaly friend. "Hmph!" It'll get better pretty soon. "Promise?!" Well, I'm pretty sure. "Then by all means, please hurry this along! I absolutely detest lingering upon this...! This...! This abject wretchedness for a second longer than I must!" As you wish, Raoul. As you wish.
The camera fades up on the main lawn of a ridiculously scenic downstate park, where it finds Deeply Disturbed El Deano in the throes of a spitting fury, raging at Bobby via his cell over the fact that Secretly Evil Sammy's Come Back Wrong For The Sixty-Eighth Or Sixty-Ninth Time Since This Godforsaken Series Began. Long story short, Dean's convinced that something has been masquerading as his brother for the last year, but Bobby remains skeptical, mainly because Dean has yet to provide him with any actual evidence to back up his assertions. Bobby does, however, agree to perform some research into the matter, and urges Dean to keep his wits about him over the coming days. "We need facts," Bobby reminds Dean, "'cause if it ain't Sam, we don't know what it is, and if we're gonna put him down, we need to know how." "I don't even wanna ride in the same car with him, much less work a damn case!" Dean protests. "Get in the car," Bobby eyerolls, before correctly noting, "He's your case!"
With that, Bobby disconnects the call, and Agitated El Deano stares at the instant dial tone now humming from his cell phone until Secretly Evil Sammy ambles over with a couple of foil-wrapped sandwiches and a newspaper. "I was just leaving Lisa a message," Dean LIES to his brother, and the two chat about Dean's nonexistent relationship with his ex-girlfriend for a bit until Secretly Evil Sammy passes Dean his copy of The Springfield Daily Reader, which prominently features Pathetic Jane's spectacular pre-credits suicide as its main story. Seems three other people have also offed themselves in Calumet City over the last couple of weeks, and for whatever reason, Secretly Evil Sammy's convinced himself that a string of random suicides in a depressing distant