Demons are back and I’m here for it.

Picture the scene: Greenwood, Mississippi, 1938. We’re inside Lloyd’s bar. The place is packed, with men in suits and hats, and women in dresses. And playing blues guitar is the legendary Robert Johnson [external link]. Everyone is having a good time until Johnson—and apparently only Johnson—hears barking and growling outside. His fear mounts as the barking gets closer and he sees silhouettes of dogs running outside. He runs, as the audience looks on in confusion.

He ends up in a house and locks the door behind him. The dogs are on his heels, throwing themselves at the door, trying to get inside. He’s terrified now. By the time some people from the bar show up, he’s convulsing on the floor. A moment later he mutters something about dogs and dies.

I’m fascinated by stories of musicians selling their souls in exchange for success, Johnson foremost among them. Are the stories true? Maybe not, but maybe they are. Johnson died at 27 of unknown causes (one more for the 27 Club [external link]). And despite his short career, he’s considered to be a master of the blues, highly influential, and possibly the world’s first rock star. Some say he met Satan at a crossroads; others theorize that the “devil” was actually a trickster god. Whatever happened to Robert Johnson, we’ll never know for sure. But it’s fun to speculate.

Back in the present, Sam and Dean start investigating the case of a renowned architect who jumped to his death after mentioning a “vicious black wild dog.” No one knows how a dog like that could’ve gotten into his building, let alone up to the architect’s apartment.

Dean’s first thought is that it could be “an actual black dog [external link].” According to him, the lore is vague, but spectral black dogs have been seen all over the world. Some say they’re death omens, but the consensus is that they’re big and “nasty.”

Pretending to be writing a tribute for Architectural Digest, the boys start by talking to the architect’s business partner. Apparently the dead man was a genius, going from being a bartender at Lloyd’s Bar ten years ago to becoming a star architect overnight, designing the most ingenious buildings anyone had seen. The partner adds that true geniuses seem to die young. Don’t they just?

The boys decide to go to the local animal shelter next, to see if there have been any other complaints about dogs. Naturally, Dean charms the receptionist, leading to this hilarious exchange with Sam:

Dean: “And, uh, I don’t know what this thing is.”

Sam: “You mean Carla’s MySpace address?”

Dean: “Yeah, MySpace—what the hell is that?”

Sam: [laughs]

Dean: “Seriously, is that some kind of porn site?”

It’s so outdated at this point that it makes sense again.

Sam never does explain MySpace to Dean, but the list they got from the shelter leads them to the home of Dr. Sylvia Pearlman. She’d reported a barking dog, but according to the employee who answers the door, the doctor left two days ago. Funny enough, Dr. Pearlman was the youngest chief surgeon in history, a position she got ten years before. Shortly after she had her picture taken at Lloyd’s bar.

Lloyd’s is apparently the place to be, so the boys pay it a visit. They immediately notice that it’s located at a crossroads, and that yarrow—a plant used in summoning rituals—is growing on every corner. They head to the dead centre of the crossroads and dig until they hit something metal. It turns out to be a box filled with bones, graveyard dirt, and a photo. Dean says it’s “Deep South black magic: serious hoodoo.” Looks like someone has been summoning demons and making pacts.

Dean: “These people are actually making deals with the damned thing. You know, because that always ends good.”

Among other things, this means the dogs that people keep hearing aren’t black dogs; they’re hell hounds, sent to collect souls.

Speaking of which, Dr. Pearlman is hiding out in a motel. When she opens the door to talk to the manager, his face suddenly twists and morphs into something demonic. She ends up cowering on the floor, trying to ignore the snarls outside and loud pounding on the door. When everything suddenly goes quiet, she stands to get a better look. That’s when something invisible crashes through the window and knocks her down. It shreds her clothes, scratches her, and finally drags her away. Hope the one good decade was worth it.

I wonder if Robert Johnson thought it was. The next scene takes us back to 1930 at the crossroads, where he’s burying a bag. When he turns around, a pretty woman in a white dress is standing there.

Robert Johnson: “Holy…”

Woman: “Holy? Guess again.”

No surprise—she’s the demon. He tells her he wants her to make him the best blues man that ever lived. The deal is sealed with a kiss and then she’s gone. Back in the present, Dean tells Sam about Robert Johnson, pointing out that his songs are full of occult references (check out the lyrics to “Hellhound on My Trail” for one example [external link]).

Sam thinks they should find and help everyone else who’ve made deals, but Dean is surprisingly (or maybe not) hostile at the suggestion.

Dean: “Right. So we gotta clean up these people’s mess for them? They’re not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced them to play Let’s Make a Deal.”

Sam: “So, what—we should just leave them to die?”

Dean: “Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you going to jump in and save them?”

Despite that, Dean does agree to help Sam. They track down George Darrow, the man whose photo was in the box they dug up. When they get to his place, they see a line of something that looks like pepper sprinkled in front of his door. George plays ignorant when they first confront him, so Dean shows him the photo and asks if he’s seen the hell hound yet. Reluctantly he lets them in.

I kind of love George. He schools the boys on not recognizing the powder in front of his door; it’s goofer dust, used in hoodoo to keep out demons. He then tosses them a bag of it because it might do them some good. When they say they want to help him, he appreciates it but says there’s nothing they can do. He made his bed when he summoned the demon (this statement earns Sam an “I told you so” look from Dean). When asked why he sold his soul, he says he wanted to be great.

George: “Of course, I asked for talent. I shoulda gone for fame.”

It turns out George is a talented painter (the works shown in his apartment are impressive, so kudos to whoever the real artist is), but he never made any money at it. In the end, the deal wasn’t worth it. His real regret is that the demon hung around after they made their deal, and signed up a few other people at Lloyd’s. He tells the boys that besides the doctor and architect, there was a man named Evan Hudson (good memory—I can barely remember the names of people I just met).

George is resigned to going to hell—he just wants to finish his final painting first. He tells Sam and Dean to go help someone that wants help. Well, it was nice knowing him.

We’re introduced to Evan Hudson as he’s at his desk; outside, dogs are barking. His wife comes in to say goodbye before she leaves to visit her sister for a few days, and he seems genuinely regretful as he says goodbye and tells her he loves her. When she turns back to tell him she loves him too, her face is morphed and twisted. As far as I’m concerned, the demonic faces are far more disturbing than the invisible dogs, although the faces are relatively harmless (except maybe to one’s sanity). Still, no one deserves death by hell hound.

When Sam and Dean show up and ask about Lloyd’s (not the best opener, guys), Evan slams the door in their faces. Dean’s persuasive response?

“Come on, we’re not demons!”

And then he kicks the door in. It’s a good thing he’s pretty.

He’s also not the nicest to Evan. When they find him in his office and tell him they’re there to help, Dean demands to know what he asked for in exchange for his soul. Like George, Evan takes responsibility for what he did. But his wife was dying and he was desperate. He did it to save her and would do it again. Instead of softening Dean’s attitude, he gets angrier hearing this. He calls Evan selfish because now his wife is going to have to live without him—and what if she knew saving her cost him his soul? I mean, those are valid points, but how does it help to berate the man now? It’s clear Dean isn’t really thinking straight.

Sam ends up confronting Dean about how he’s been acting since they found the crossroads. It turns out both of them have been thinking that their dad also made a deal: his soul and the colt in exchange for saving Dean. At this point I’m wondering why John didn’t leave them a note or something instead of traumatizing them with his unexpected (and suspicious) death. For the moment, Dean gives Sam the goofer dust, and tells him to hold off the hounds while he goes to the crossroads to try to trap the demon.

The demon who shows up for Dean is another attractive woman, and she knows who he is (for anyone else, that might be unsettling). He suggests they make the deal in the privacy of his car, and for a demon, she’s surprisingly accommodating. As they head over to it he tells her he wants to release Evan from his contract. Well, apparently Hell takes contracts more seriously than some lawyers I’ve met, because the issue is not negotiable. So Dean offers his soul in exchange.

Demon: “Well, well, well. You’ll sacrifice your life for someone else’s. Like father, like son.”

The boys don’t have to wonder about John’s deal anymore, because she tells Dean all about it. I guess there’s no such thing as demon-client confidentiality. But the discussion is cut short when Dean opens the car door for her and she spots the devil’s trap he painted—in white—under the car. He’d might as well have used neon paint.

Of course she’s angry about the attempt, and starts taunting Dean about John, snapping that she could’ve brought his father back if he hadn’t just blown it. As she walks away, Dean tells her to hold on.

It seems Dean Winchester is the bigger prize, because the demon offers him a deal anyone would have trouble refusing. In exchange for his soul, John will be brought back to live a long, natural life. Dean will even get an extra ten years out of it, which is pretty generous considering he was supposed to already be dead. Dean nods, taking a few steps away. Then he asks her if she’ll throw in a set of steak knives.

The demon steps toward him, making a comment about his smartass self-defence mechanism, when she suddenly stops and looks up. They’re standing in a covered area and Dean has painted another devil’s trap above them. So the one under the car was meant to be seen, and this is the real trap. Clever boy.

She demands to be released, but of course she’s not exactly in a position of strength. Dean’s fine with letting her out—if she releases Evan from his contract, and he and his wife get to live to a ripe old age. She reiterates that she can’t break a contract. He starts exorcising her.

Back at Evan’s house, the hell hound is closing in. Although Sam can’t hear it, he can see the door shaking as it tries to get in, so he makes a circle of goofer dust and steps into it with Evan. When the hound finally gets in, deep scratch marks appear on the floor. It moves around them as Sam shields Evan behind him, but the goofer dust works. Well, it works until wind comes out of nowhere and blows away the dust, breaking the circle. The men run and lock themselves in another room while Sam tries to hold the door.

Meanwhile the exorcism is progressing—until the demon can’t take anymore. The next thing we know, everything goes quiet at Evan’s house, while Dean and the demon are kissing. She then confirms that Evan is free, and he and his wife will live long lives together. Her word is binding (then again, she also said there was no way to break Evan’s contract). As soon as Dean is satisfied, he keeps going with the exorcism, which I think is a terrible idea. A deal is a deal, and all he’s going to do is anger more demons. Case in point: she threatens that if he exorcises her, she’ll come back and skin Evan. Wisely, he frees her from the devil’s trap.

Demon: “I gotta tell you, you would’ve never pulled that stunt if you knew.”

Dean: “Knew what?”

Demon: “Where your dad is. You should’ve made that deal.”

The demon takes off in a stream of black smoke, leaving behind the confused woman whose body it was possessing.

The episode ends with the boys in the Impala. Sam speculates that maybe the demon was lying about John, but Dean doesn’t think so. He questions how their dad could do such a thing.

Sam: “He did it for you.”

Dean: “Exactly. How am I supposed to live with that?”

He adds that killing Yellow Eyes should’ve been John’s legacy—not making a deal with the demon. But Sam argues that John’s real legacy is all the people he saved, and all the people they saved because he taught them how.

Not knowing when to leave well enough alone, Sam tries to confirm that Dean never really considered taking the deal that the demon offered. Dean doesn’t answer.

There’s a hell of a lot (see what I did there?) going on in this episode. We get more demon lore, while the boys get their suspicions confirmed. The episode also raises the question of what, if anything, would be worth selling your soul for. If the stories about Robert Johnson are true, did he think it was worth it in the end? And if you could help someone who had taken that drastic step, would you? ASB