Last's week's game-changing episode of "Supernatural" resonated with me for days, and I couldn't wait to see how it rippled into this week's. Unfortunately, "Sharp Teeth" had as much bite as a toothless, old cat.
Grab your silver bullets, and let's dive in, shall we?
The brothers unite to solve the case of Garth's sudden re-emergence as a hit-and-run victim in Grantsburg, Wisconsin, where there has been a rash of mutilated animals. Despite the palpable crackling tension between Sam and Dean trying to slip Sam like Taylor Swift does boyfriends, the brothers still work a case like a the seasoned veterans. The shorthand is still there, which is endlessly reassuring. It's also surprising and a bit encouraging that they are honest about that they've been doing since Dean “split." It's hilarious that they did it while a hospitalized Garth (returning guest star DJ Qualls) is puking his guts out. "I'm gone for two weeks, and you're like an episode of 'Teen Mom'," Dean says after Sam reveals that Gadreel left grace inside of him. Sam was apparently in New Mexico doing something. Sam never elaborates.
The story behind Garth's disappearance is a winding one. It breaks down like this: Garth got turned into a werewolf while hunting "a big bad wolf." He was ready to eat his gun, like a good hunter would, when another werewolf, Bess, sniffed him out and talked him down. They fell in love, got married and he joined her pack of church-going, animal-eating lycanthropes. Garth makes acquaintances with his usual flare. He describes Sam as "a bit insecure at times, but for good reason." He also sums Dean up perfectly: "He could start a fight in an empty house, but deep down inside he's just a big ole teddy bear."
He invites Dean to come pray with his pack that consists of werewolves that were born that way and “bittens.” Like the nest of vegan vampires in season 2's "Bloodlust" or the church-going hunters in season 5's "99 Problems", the Meyers pack is pious, god-fearing and squeaky clean, which immediately makes me distrustful of all of them. They even wear silver bullets as a reminder of their own mortality and "fragility." Garth's father-in-law is the reverend and the leader of the pack. He is so polite and wise that I reflexively peg him as the evilest of them all. However, when they sit down to dinner of the freshest animal entrails Wisconsin has to offer, he says this: "The road to revenge is a dark and lonely one which you never get off. And that whole in your stomach, you never fill it."
The words of wisdom should strike a chord in Dean, who's now sporting the Mark of Cain and a conscience that's so guilty, he can't put it into words. And I also know now that the reverend, at least, is a good guy. Whether he’ll be alive at the end of the episode is still in the air. The thing I loved about these exposition-heavy scenes was watching Dean interact with the lycanthropes. He arrives armed to the teeth and wearing his proverbial white hat, but Jensen Ackles and the writers chose to make Dean look like the savage with the facial hair and the callous distrust. Also, Ackles's face is so expressive that it said far more about the awkward-gross dinner scene than Dean's ever could verbally.
It all goes pear-shaped when the sheriff calls Sam and Dean to a suspicious incident that turns out to be a mauled deer. This is strange for two reasons: 1. As a Wisconsin-native, this is sadly a common sight on highways. We have beers, wolves, coyotes and cars—anyone of which could have torn into an animal like that. 2. The blood is still warm.
Sam and Dean know they've been had, but it's no big deal. Dean's lightning fast with the throwing knives, and the werewolf is dead before anyone can make a “Twilight” joke. The dead sheriff/werewolf wore a silver bullet with the word "Ragnarok" carved into it, signifying that he's a part of the Meyers' pack. Ragnarok is the end of days in Norse mythology. The world was eaten by a wolf named Fenris. But it seems that the Meyers' pack used it as "an action plan" for "total and complete werewolf domination." Only in Wisconsin, folks.