Supernatural
Adventures In Babysitting

Episode Report Card
Demian: D | 8 USERS: A-
YOU GRADE IT
Dear Mister Hardy Boy, Play Us A Tune

Lunatic Jackass Estates, Mobile Division. While Whackjob Frank continues to monitor his many, many screens, Dashing El Deano slowly rouses himself from his Coma Of Boredom over in his chair to mumble, "How long was I out?" "About thirty-six hours," Frank replies, and I'm just gonna go ahead and assume this is yet another bit of time-slip fuckery that will be resolved after Our Intrepid Heroes deal with the atrociously-named "God Of Time" next week. In news that actually has some bearing on this season's overarching storyline, Whackjob Frank's thirty-six-hour marathon of screen-staring produced some intriguing results: Seems a Richard Roman functionary named "Amanda Willer" marched into that remote swath of Northern Wisconsin with a trio of underlings to plot out the footprint of what promises to be a very large building, but unfortunately, we don't get to hear much more than that about this particular development because Dean's chosen this very moment to whine about Bobby's death, and as I have approximately zero interest in listening to him natter on and on and on about his goddamned feelings, I'll be skipping ahead to the bit where his cell phone starts buzzing in his pocket. For whatever asinine reason, he's immediately shunted into Sam's last voice mail when he flips the thing open, and wouldn't you know it? Sucky John was totally, terribly wrong about the Vetalas' social habits. Which we already knew, but it's nice to have Dean confirm that, I suppose. Our Intrepid Hero impatiently makes to dial his badly misinformed brother's number, and he's quite surprised to find Chrissy on the other end of the line, instead, and what the hell is wrong with their goddamn phones tonight? Oh, wait -- this is more of that time-slip fuckery they're going to deal with next week, right? I mean, the people responsible for this mess must know that cell phones don't work this way, right? Right? "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Ugh, okay. I'll ignore this, too. For now, at least.

Anyway, Dean somehow ends up talking to Chrissy when he should be falling into Sam's voice mail, and he becomes visibly upset when Chrissy reveals that Sam's gone missing. DUN!

And speaking of The Ginormomoron, there he now, waking up in an abandoned warehouse! His remarkably healthy frame has been lashed to a tiny chair, and as he futilely struggles against the ropes that bind him, he takes a couple of moments to examine his surroundings. Two indifferently-placed corpses of the male persuasion litter a couple corners of the space while Ian Tracey -- looking considerably worse for the wear, by the by -- slouches in a chair of his own. The two living gents get to talking with each other, and the upshot of it all is this: The Vetalas infuse their victims with a venom that all but induces paralysis before feeding on said victims three or four times, at which point the victims drop dead from the exhaustion and the blood loss and whatnot. "How many times they fed on you?" Sam thinks to wonder. "Three," Ian Tracey glumly replies, and with that, we're off to...

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Supernatural

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