Lost Girl Season 3, Episode 4 Recap: Suicide Succubus

Thank fae—Lost Girl is back! Be sure to check out all of our recaps, from Season 1 and Season 2 to the most recent episode of Season 3 aired in the U.S. on the SyFy Channel. All caught up? Good. And now, on to the recap for last night’s Season 3 premiere, episode 3.04, "Fae-de to Black.”

Spoiler Policy: Please remember that there is a strong NO SPOILERS policy for any and all comments. We are ONLY DISCUSSING episodes of Lost Girl that have ALREADY AIRED IN THE UNITED STATES (the U.S. is currently a week behind Canada's schedule). Be kind and respectful by not ruining it for those who have yet to watch the newest Season 3 episode. Thanks!

**********SPOILERS**********

We open up in Bo’s bedroom at Hilton Hovel (drink! heavily!) where Bo is loosely tied by the drapes to the bed post awash in sexual bliss as Doctor Lauren goes down on her. The next two or three minutes are, again, all about the lady love, making this the second episode of the first four in the new season to begin with an extensive doccubus sex scene. It’s official. Lost Girl to all extents and purposes has finished its total reinvention into The Supernatural L Word.

The scene is beautifully shot. It’s hard to be anything else when AS and ZP are so naturally beautiful. Heavy sighs and slow music backdrop lots of long shots of a sweaty back here, a toned belly there, the doc on top of Bo in a clinch, Bo bites her lip, the doc smiles, even full on groin to groin money shot—covered from the waist down by Bo’s sheets. And yet for all is technical beauty and actor full-on commitment the absence of any genuine chemistry not dependent on naked flesh is making me…yawwnnnnn. I said that out loud again, didn’t I? Drat.

Eventually the two collapse on their backs side by side, exhausted. At least the doc is exhausted; Bo and her ravenous appetite are ready and raring to go for additional rounds. Bo declares their sex session to be epic and Doctor Lauren laughs and, out of breath, confesses that after last night’s marathon, she didn’t expect to get lucky again so soon. Bo kisses her shoulder repeatedly and promises that she could yet get additionally lucky several times over.  Again the doc laughs as, utterly spent on several fronts she begins to list all the things she’s been neglected to have sex with Bo and feed her succubus needs, poor dear. Bo is, typically, only more turned on by the geek speak. “Say formaldehyde again.”

The doc moans that she has a million things to do on her ‘to do’ list. “I thought I was your ‘to do’ list,” Bo retorts. Honey, I’m pretty sure you’re everybody’s ‘to do’ list at this point. She releases Doctor Lauren from her hideous duty with a fond peck. Bo goes to “freshen up.”  As Bo saunters to the bathroom in her new pink kimono—Vex having forever tarnished her black and white one—the doc sits up and, free of Bo’s perusal, allows herself to fully show how she’s become dangerously worn out. Merely sitting upright is all too much and she falls back on the bed.

In the bathroom, Bo isn’t faring much better. She waddles to the towel disperser and with effort reaches for the energy bar she’s hidden on top. That proves too much for her and she falls back against the sink, knocking off the toothbrush cup. The doc calls from the bedroom asking if everything is all right. “Everything is amazing!” Bo calls back desperately when everything clearly is far from amazing. “Just amazing,” she mutters woefully as she unwraps the bar and chows down. After a session like the one they’re supposed to have just finished, the last thing Bo should need is more energy. She should be able to take down 10 Garuda…plus two. Wait, no, that’s the Grinch. Sorry.

On a rooftop somewhere Victim One is fastening a tightrope to the building as Dyson and Tamsin cautiously approach and call out to him. “This is going to be amazing, no?!” VO says with excitement. “IIIII’m gonna go with no, dude,” Tamsin snarks. VO orders them to stop and now I can see he’s wearing a homemade t-shirt that says “Lloyd the Magnificent.” Lloyd goes on about reading about famous tightrope walker Felipe when he was about six and ever since it’s been his dream to do the same. “Well, there you have it,” Tamsin says to Dyson. “The man’s living his dream. Can we go now?” she moans and tries to leave. Dyson chides her in THAT VOICE. “Can you at least pretend to try?” He calls out to Lloyd and, taking out his phone (really Dyson? With the flip phone? Take that long-legged walk of yours into the 21^st Century, ‘kay?), offers to take a few photos for posterity. Lloyd is all for this. He strikes several self-important poses. Dyson takes the pictures as an excuse to slowly edge closer to the batshit crazy man while carrying on a low convo with a reluctant Tamsin. “You are so bad at this,” he deadpans. Tamsin decides that if the man wants to live out his crazy circus fantasy, who cares? “Live and let live!” Dyson: “That’s so typically Dark of you.” “What? Saying it like it is?” Tamsin shoots back. As she rolls her eyes at him, Dyson expositions that there have been four crazy human tricks this week. “Do you remember how the first three ended up?” Tamsin: “Hmm, you mean splash, squish, ka-boom?” Yup, those are exactly the ones he means. Dyson encourages Lloyd to pose some more as he gets ever closer. “At each of them, I smelled Fae,” he tells Tamsin quietly. “Something is killing these people and I’m going to find out what it is.”

Tamsin moans because she already knows by now that when Dyson gets fixated on something, there’s no shifting him till he figures it out. “Okay, but I’ve got a really hot date with a guy rocking an 8-pack in an hour so maybe we can hurry this up a little?” She calls out to Lloyd, “Hey Magnifico! You know this is stupid, right?!” and Dyson kind of gapes at her incredulous that she could be so dense. Lloyd laughs dismissively and Dyson says to Tamsin, “You know, that’s really great, now why don’t you stand back a bit. I got this.” I like this vibe between them much more than the trying-a-little-too-hard barely civil, sexual-innuendo heavy verbal combat of episode two. This sounds like partners taking the piss out of one another. She’s still a first-class brat, but Dyson is more avuncular to her now that she’s toned down the sexual overtones, though still quite happy to verbally spar. They annoy one another, but they’re getting on in their own way. It’s not quite the Big Brother/Little Sister rapport he has with Kenzi—nothing will ever match that—but he’s definitely feeling more warmly toward her and a bit back assward protective as well, which is typical of him. How much of that is subconscious residue from Confaegion is anyone’s guess, but I think they’ve been working together for a few weeks now and are finding their rhythm with each other.

Dyson tries again to reach Lloyd, but Magnifico stops him and advises that what he’s about to attempt is very dangerous. Dyson tries to ask one more question, but Lloyd is ready to fly. “It’s not the time for questions. It’s the time…to dream! It’s the time to live!” Behind Dyson, Tamsin whoops with a fist punch to the sky. Dyson spreads his arms & shoots her a what the hell is wrong with you?!  look, and the distraction is enough for Lloyd to take his first step out onto the rope…and promptly fall to his death. Dyson lunges for the edge to catch Lloyd but he’s too late. He gazes down to where Lloyd has set off a car alarm with his epic landing. Tamsin joins him. “Yeah!” she snarks and pats Dyson’s back. She pats him a lot. Can’t really blame her. “You got this.”

Credits.

At Hilton Hovel (drink!), Bo is frantically rooting thought the kitchen when Kenzi enters, pillow clutched to her chest. She is wound up tight and calls various versions of Bo’s name with increasing desperation. “Bobolooza? Bo Bo? Bobolicious? Bodacious!” Bo bumps past her to dive into a tin. “Do we seriously not have any chocolate in this place?!”  A little stunned to be brushed aside so easily for chocolate, Kenzi shouts Bo’s name and throws the pillow at her back. Bo: “Did you just throw a pillow at me?” Calm down, Succubumpkin. It’s a pillow. Wary, Kenzi says she’d like to answer that question in two parts. “A, yes. B, I would love to have a heart-to-heart with you, thank you so much for asking.” It’s clear there’s some BFD going on, but Bo can’t be bothered to pay attention and is already back on her chocolate hunt. “Can we do it later, Kenz, please?” she asks, without even looking at her bestie. Kenzi plays dirty. “I’ve got chocolate in my purse.” Bo immediately gives Kenzi her full attention. “What’s on your mind?” Heh. The delivery is gold, but I’m still pissed Kenzi had to blackmail Bo to listen to her.

They sit on stools facing one another and now Kenzi isn’t quite sure where to start. “It’s kind of a delicate subject, like Southern Belle delicate.” I—have no idea what she means by that. Anyone? “And I don’t know how you’re going to take it but I just can’t keep it from you any longer!” So, what? She’s going to spill all about Dyson having his love back and how that came to be? Bo has already gone from attentive to annoyed. “Is this about (Doctor) Lauren?” she snipes. No, dear heart, because there are several other fucking things in this show of greater importance than bloody Doctor Lauren. Ahem. Kenzi: “It’s about something that’s been a big ole bug up my butt for a couple of months now.” But Bo can only be bothered to think about herself and Doctor Lauren. “You think we’re spending too much time together!” she accuses, aggravated. “You’ve never liked her!” Kenzi denies this—C'est tout les contrairre, mon cherie—and confesses that ever since she saw the doc get all sciency on The Morrigan’s evil ass plot, “I lurves me some (Doctor) Lauren.” Oh just bite me, show! Somehow all the previous times Kenzi saw Doctor Lauren do the science thing, like say, the foot soup or the Naga venom, managed not to convert her better senses. It was only when she saw Doctor Lauren kitchen cook up that ridiculous Confaegion remedy that Kenzi really had her entire character trashed and revamped decided she “lurved” herself some Doctor Lauren, because it was so new. Gimme a break.

Bo shouts that’s good because Doctor Lauren is very “lurvable.” Kenzi: “And from what I hear, super bangable!” Bo yells: “Why is everything always about sex?!” Kenzi blinks at her. “Ah, wonder snatch?! Hi! Have we met?” But Bo has had a revelation. Is it that your bestie is hip deep in Fae trouble? Nope. Or that the love of your very long life has had his love for you restored? Nuh huh. How ‘bout the fact that your sister of the heart is watching her arm rot off from retrieving said love’s—er—love while you were busy knifing NotComaNadia? Remember NotComaNadia? Eh, I’m not surprised. Doctor Lauren surely seems to have recovered from you murdering her beloved girlfriend quickly enough, why should you bother to give her a second thought?

Nope! None of the above. Bo has come to the startling realization that Kenzi does not in fact have any chocolate in her purse. “Technically, nyet,” Kenzi admits. Bo throws the pillow at Kenzi and darkly states that she’s going to the store now that Kenzi is of absolutely no use to her. Kenzi, worried and afraid and still burdened, watches Bo leave and then scratches at the arm cursed by The Norn (freaking Norn!). “Wicked, wicked Norn,” Kenzi whispers with fear. “What did you do to me?” That’s something we all want to know.

At the cop shop, Tamsin trots in polishing off a glass of water. “Woot! Girl be thirsty!” she announces. “What happened to your date with Mister eight-pack?” Dyson asks, not really caring as she perches her tiny ass on his desk. “Hmm, Girl only needs 10 minutes.” Dyson: “That’s way too much information.” Looking over his shoulder she asks if he’s looking at the tox screen on “street pizza.” “Can you not call him that?” Dyson chides, not without humor. “Tox screen on the street pasta?” she offers as she takes the file and begins to read. Dyson: “Nice.” He points out that Lloyd wasn’t on anything, but Tamsin decides it was still a suicide so “case closed.” Dyson doesn’t buy it, not considering the pattern of similar deaths. “Look, I’m telling you, I smelled something Fae on that roof.” His sniffer’s really getting a work out this episode. He insists they need to start the investigation from the beginning. “It’s The Better Way,” she murmurs. “It’s the only way,” Dyson stresses. Tamsin clarifies that she actually means The Better Way Clinic of Health and Wellness where all the suicide victims from the last ten days were, at one time or another, patients. She pats his shoulder, tells him he can thank her later, and strides off a few steps before realizing that he is not following her. “Ah, this is the part where we go question therapists?” she reminds him. “Yeah,” he agrees, “who, due to doctor/patient confidentially won’t tell us a damn thing.”

Tamsin sits on his desk again and suggest that they’ll have to go undercover. “I can be a great therapist,” she announces, tugging her jacket lapels into place. Sure, because you were so empathetic to Lloyd on the rooftop. “We’re trying to –prevent these people from killing themselves, Tamsin,” Dyson points out. Ill-tempered, Tamsin asks what he would suggest and Dyson slams the folder shut with conviction. Think the wolf man already has this one figured out.

At The Dal (drink!), Bo is sucking back tiny, tiny cups of espresso. “Fine, I’ll do it!” she snaps at Dyson, who is leaning on the bar in front of her. “You haven’t even heard what ‘it’ is,” he points out, puzzled by her behavior. Methinks, this “girl” needs distraction. Annoyed, Bo sighs heavily. “Well, let’s just say,” her attention is caught by the hottie entering The Dal (drink!) right behind Dyson’s shoulder. He follows Bo’s gaze and tracks the woman as Bo spins on her stool to do the same. “I could use the distraction,” Bo admits and Dyson gives an appreciative eyebrow waggle for the woman before shifting his attention back onto Bo. Great. Now they’re scoping out chicks together. Nifty.

He fills her in that she needs to pose as a therapist at a New Age clinic. Bo rightly wonders how she’s supposed to convince the clinic that she’s a doctor. “Ta da!” Dyson says as he displays a credentials plaque he’s already had made up on her behalf. She reads from it. “Doctor Helen Green of the Sedona Center for Psychological and Spiritual Healing.” Bo tosses the plaque on the bar. “I couldn’t have gone to Harvard?” Dyson, wry and knowing: “You haven’t seen the clinic.” She asks what she’s looking for and Dyson hands over the file with a list of all their victims. “We need you to access their patient files. Find out why they’re doing these crazy stunts and killing themselves.” Bo thinks that sounds…but she distracted again by the arrival of a hot guy and she does the spin on the bar stool again as he brushes past her. Thanks for the token acknowledgement that she likes men too, show. “Delicious,” Bo finishes on a moan and slaps the file down on the bar. Dyson follows her track here too, but this time looks back and forth between Bo and the guy. Concerned, his brow furrows. This is a little too outré even for her.

“You know,” he offers, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you looked a little…” Bo jumps in with suggestions: “Smart? Gorgeous? Tall?” Heh. “Hungry,” Dyson finishes. “You and (Doctor) Lauren didn’t…” he makes an ax motion across his neck, which I’m going to take as Dyson-speak for ‘break up’, “did you?” Bo immediately goes into denial. “And P.S.? Our sex life is awesome, maybe a little too awesome,” she preens…and downs another espresso. “Okay!” Dyson chuckles, unruffled and appeasing in the face of her lady-doth-protest-too-much defensiveness. “Just asking. I think though someone here has had enough coffee for the day,” he adds with a teasing note. He gently pushes her hand holding the next espresso cup back down onto the bar. Bo grimaces at him but knows he’s right. Sullen, she retrieves the folder. “What kind of therapist am I anyway?” Cut to Bo in her therapist’s office reading an instruction manual titled Couples Therapy. HA! “Oh, you got to be kidding me!” she moans.

She enters the waiting room and cheerily greets the receptionist. “Namaste,” the girl responds and promptly sprays a can of aerosol in Bo’s face.  “Oh!” Bo exclaims as the girl waves the scent further into her face. She pauses and then tilts her head.  “Lemony!” and again her delivery is gold. The Girl insists that the lemon scent will help create synergy and centeredness during Bo’s appointment. Bo explains that she’s the new doctor and makes for her office. So where was she a moment ago? The Girl chirps “Oh! Doctor Green!” and prances around the desk to hug a startled Bo. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there to greet you when you came in,” she gushes. She’s only just heard that Bo was joining them, but when she did, “I about fell out of my sun salutation!” She admits that they’ve been “super swamped” since Doctor D’Angelos up and left them. Bo uses this to segue into an inquiry about the clinic’s recent bad luck. “Patients dying? In strange and unusual ways?” The Girl moans. “Ugh, Gaia help us! It’s been so awful!” She adds that Doctor Hope has been super emotional about it, “though that could have more to do with her recent divorce. Doctor Foster is kind of in denial and Doctor Palmer is taking it the hardest. He’s our regression therapist.”

Bo checks the name plates behind her and asks after Doctors Nemo and Bob. Really, Bo? Nemo didn’t ping for you? The full name plate reads like this. Doctor Hope: Existential Mindfulness. Doctor Foster: Shamanic Reinforcement.  Doctor Palmer: Regression Therapist. Doctor Nemo: Holistic Sand Play. Doctor Bob: Crystals and Self.

The Girl admits that Doctor Nemo is the office’s resident fish while Doctor (Clover?) Bob is the resident kitty who usually hangs out in Doctor (Zoie?) Palmer’s office. Oh my giddy aunt, really? HAHAHAHAHA. Oh, rich, tasty Meta, how I love you!!

Bo offers to let The Girl get back to work but she counters that it’s the other way around as Bo’s eleven o’clock appointment has already arrived. “Good luck!” she chirps.

Bo’s 11 o’clock is a pair of men whose marriage has hit a rocky point as Manny thinks his husband Connor is using his job to avoid sex, which Connor finds an insulting accusation. Manny: “So you had to go to the hospital at 10 o’clock at night?” Connor: “For blood work! That saves people,” he adds to Bo. Manny: “You’re a dermatologist!” Bo interrupts to note that Connor is a doctor, huh, and that is very important, “but Manny here has certain…needs.” I duck and dodge the nor’easter of anvils that suddenly pour out of my ceiling.

Connor snits that Bo is talking about sex, “which, by the way, we have all the time!” Manny complains they barely have sex together anymore and Connor insists they have it all the time. Manny disagrees and Bo asks exactly how many times a week they have sex. “Three times!” Connor announces triumphantly holding up three fingers. “Three times,” Manny complains doing the same. Aghast, Bo shouts, “that’s it!” and Manny hums in aggrieved agreement. Bo: “How do you survive?!” Manny: “Right?!”  Connor: “I’m sorry, are you on his side now?!” Manny brushes Connor off and exhorts him to let Bo speak, but Connor wonders where exactly it is Bo went to school. Manny says he has an impact statement that he would like to read. Connor and Bo simultaneously moan, “oh brother.”

Bo tries to back pedal before she loses more control of the situation. “Okay! Wait. Let me just try something here.” She leans forward and puts a hand on each man. Pulsing succubus juice into each of them, she breathily instructs them to look at one another. “These are the faces that you fell in love with. These are the bodies that need to express themselves,” she says with feeling.  Bo begins to breathe heavily as she channels their desire. “That are longing for each other. Aching for each other.” Manny and Connor aren’t the only ones aching, sweetie. Slowly, the men move toward one another and kiss. Immediately, they ignite, leap on one another and start ripping each other’s clothes off. Bo: “No, guys, not here!”

“We can be home in five minutes,” Manny says coming up for air. Connor: “Ten if we stop for whipped cream.” They scamper away. Bo gets to her feet and sways in place. “Tabitha (when exactly did we get The Girl’s name?),” she calls, “I’m going for lunch,” despite the fact that she just got there and it’s like 11:15 right now, but whatever. Lady’s gotta go bang. At Doctor Lauren’s flat, Bo is going full-frontal assault on a—less than responsive doctor. Bo: “You know what I’m craving?” Doctor Lauren: “A nice back massage?” Bo: “Lower.” 

Doctor Lauren whines that she’s just so busy! Bo pauses to ask somewhat teasingly if the doc is using work as an avoidance technique. The doc rolls her eyes and asks where that came from. “Oh,” Bo says, starting to work on the doc’s pants, “it’s just that one of my patients at the clinic was talking about it.” Doctor Lauren is taken aback by the idea of Bo taking patients but tries to laugh it off until Bo confirms that she is indeed seeing clients while undercover at the clinic. “And I have to say this whole ‘doctor thing’ isn’t as hard as I thought it would be,” though she allows that she should probably “crack a book or two.” That’s probably because you’re not even impersonating a real doctor, but whatever.

She goes back in to mack on the doc’s neck but now, Doctor Lauren is downright resistant and positively insulted. Because, in addition to her pharmacologic, surgical, general practice, laboratory, cartography, and Fae specialties, she also appears to have a fellowship in psychiatry! I guess when Yale was passing out internships, she said “gimme all of them!” Wait, who pays those school loans? The Ash?

“Yeah, yeah,” Doctor Lauren says as she pushes Bo away. “Maybe I can help, actually.” She walks over to her book nook and starts pulling out professional tomes—Jung, Freud, Masters and Johnson, Kinsey—getting increasingly aggravated as she slams each one on the growing stack. (Skip the Jung, Bo, and go straight for the Kinsey. You’ll like yourself better for it.) The doc pats the top of the stack and smiles without humor at Bo. Bo asks if they have a problem. “Bo, masquerading as a therapist is a serious ethical offense, not to mention that you’re completely unqualified,” Doctor Lauren lectures. Now it’s Bo’s turn to be insulted. “Oh. I see. You think I lack the intellectual whatchamacallit to pull off this fake doctor crap.” Doctor Lauren patronizes that Bo’s not about to learn how to do it in an hour. Bo: “No, I suppose I’d need 8 billion hours looking through telescopes like you!” And here, Doctor Lauren’s aggrieved professional pride and innate snobbery comes to the fore. “They’re microscopes and I guess being a doctor would seem easy to somebody who never even finished high school!” Bo immediately recoils. “Wow.”  The doc quickly tries to undo the damage of the rare moment when she actually says what she truly thinks and feels. “Bo, I didn’t mean that.” But now Bo isn’t in the mood. “Look at the time. I have to go!” and she stalks out of the flat, flinging back that she has clients to see as the doctor…rolls her eyes and grunts. Yup. You majorly screwed that one up, doc.

I actually agree with Doctor Lauren on this one. Yes, you read that right. Go ahead and read it again if you still don’t quite believe your eyes. It’s a nice change to have someone finally acknowledge how ridiculous it is that Bo keeps going undercover in various professions of which she knows absolutely nothing. And the doc is not wrong about the severe ethical violation either especially when that impersonation involves something on the level of a medical or psychiatric session. There are, after all, laws against that. It helps that Bo is not impersonating a real doctor and that the “professionals” at this particular clinic are about as well educated as she is…but that’s only marginally Doctor Lauren’s objection here. Her real problem is that Bo is playing around in the doc’s territory, her world of expertise, is doing it successfully, and is nearly blasé about it. Certainly she’s not treating it with the gravitas the doc thinks it deserves. And it does deserve respect; becoming a doctor is far from easy, especially when you spend so many years becoming an expert at absolutely everything. But the truth of the matter is the doc does believe herself to be superior to Bo in every way—except for Bo’s Fae DNA, which is just winning the genetic lottery.

Now that Bo and Doctor Lauren are a couple, the doc is feeling more secure and has begun to relax the restraints she chronically imposes on herself. Little by little, it’s becoming clear that, outside of the sex and patronizing affection of companionship, the doc doesn’t have a whole lot of use for Bo, whatever genuine emotions she might have for her. This is hardly something new for the doc; she treated NotComaNadia with the same dismissive affection she now demonstrates toward Bo outside of their sexual escapades. At that time, the argument could’ve been made that she behaved that way because she really wanted to be with Bo but couldn’t leave NotComaNadia after all the time she spent trying to save her. But as she exhibits the same behavior toward another woman she professes to love, what could’ve been situation specific now becomes behavioral pattern.

In actuality, Bo and Doctor Lauren have very little in common outside of the Fae. I’m not saying couples have to be a perfect match up; the “opposites attract” axiom exists for a reason. But, as I have always maintained, there is a huge power imbalance between Bo and Doctor Lauren and, for once, it’s the doc’s source of power,  the one place where she finds her true identity, that’s being impinged on and she doesn’t like it one bit.

Back at the office, the camera shows a copy of Therapy for Dummies in Bo’s bag as her next appointment goes on about her symbolic dreams. What she hopes to gain from couples counseling in a solo session is anyone’s guess. This nameless woman goes on about how in her dream she works for the War Office and it’s her job to buy the submarines, and she doesn’t mean sandwiches. The HUGE Brazilian sub is packed with naval officers, the French sub has heat-seeking missiles and a gourmet kitchen, “and then there’s my husband,” she finishes, deflating. Bo: “Your husband’s on a submarine?” Woman patient: “My husband is a submarine, but he’s a little dinky and his periscope’s a little rusty.” She goes on to say that when it comes time to choose, she buys and buys and buys. “And your husband?” Bo asks. “I put him on layaway,” Woman Patient admits. “What do you think that means?” Bo, still deplete and without a doctor recharge, sighs heavily and bites into her half-eaten energy bar.

In the waiting room, Nerd Boy attempts to lift the heavy glass coffee table. Tabitha sits at her desk reading a Yoga magazine and couldn’t be more bored.  “Leave the coffee table alone, Rolly,” she demands without even bothering to look at him. “Doctor (Zoie) Palmer will be in soon.” Rolly exhales heavily as he releases the table and collapses back onto the couch, in ever-increasing respiratory distress. Bo emerges from her office in time to see Rolly take a shot from his inhaler, so you know that’s going to come back into play soon. Bo asks directions to the bathroom, but is waylaid by Rolly who insists that “they” call him “Captain Humongous.” Aw, bless. Bo chirps encouragingly that she’s sure “they” do, but Rolly isn’t done. “This hand,” he intones, holding up said hand, “can stop a moving car in its tracks.” Bo smiles at the delusional boy. “Wow,” while Tabitha just rolls her eyes.

Bo goes into Doctor (Zoie) Palmer’s empty office to search for clues. From the couch, Doctor (Clover) Bob gives a welcoming meow as she passes and Bo reciprocates with a good hello scratch on his neck. The Meta makes me silly grin especially as this particularly entertaining bit is enhanced by the fact that Anna Silk is an avowed cat lover. She rifles his desk and finds a folder full of clippings of Dyson’s suicide cases including Lloyd the Magnificent’s terminal tight-rope. This is when Doctor (Zoie) Palmer enters. Surprised, he stands in the doorway as Doctor (Clover) Bob scampers out the door.  Bo patters something about introducing herself and reviewing the regression fundamentals with Doctor (Zoie) Palmer as an excuse for her presence, and with a little succubus hand clasping (though no apparent power surge), Doctor (Zoie) Palmer is on board.

In Siren’s Speakeasy, Kenzi is perched on Hale’s desk where she idly plays with an abacus (hee) as she whinges to Hale (Hale!) that she knows Bo has a lot of stuff going on, but she does too! “Kenzi’s got butt loads of stuff!” Enough to catapult her into third-person tense, apparently. Working on his laptop, Hale is barely paying her any attention. “Hale, I gotta unload,” she sighs, “cause I might’ve done something that’s coming back at me in a big yucky way.” Hale keeps typing away at his keyboard and Kenzi shouts his name to get his attention. “Sorry,” he says absently, “Whatdya have to unload out of your butt?” HA! She smacks him with the abacus and he gives her his full attention. “Okay,” he soothes. “I’m—I’m listening. What’s up?” I don’t like Kenzi’s attitude here. Though her need certainly dictates her insistence, I don’t believe she would so totally be oblivious to the fact that Hale is also involved in deep shit at the moment. It’s not like he’s on a chocolate hunt here.

Kenzi asks if Hale remembers a few months ago “when le merde was hitting the fan?” He is familiar, yes. “Well, I—sorta got comfy with,” here Hale’s mobile begins to ring, but Kenzi carries on, “a chainsaw and I went to see—” But Hale has answered his phone as though Kenzi isn’t even sitting right there. Kenzi throws up her hands as Hale objects to being asked to submit an apology letter. “How was I supposed to know I couldn’t look him in the feet—that’s where his eyes are!” Hale tells whoever is on the other end to just put it on the list, “of the million things I gotta do,” he mutters, hanging up and dropping the phone on the desk before he turns back to his laptop. Nevertheless, Kenzi soldiers on. “So anyway, I got all power hungry with a power tool and I actually went—” but Hale talks over her without registering a word she’s saying. “I’m sorry. I’m up to my moonshine here in Ash biz. Can we do lunch Friday?” Sure siren, though she might be dead by then!

Telling that Kenzi repeatedly refuses to tell Dyson what she did to retrieve his love, but is all too ready to unload on Hale…who will immediately tell Dyson. I get that months have gone by and Kenzi is at her wit's end as her arm rots away, but still I like the ongoing sidekick solidarity, except for the fact that Hale is no longer sidekick material.

Kenzi reacts badly to the Friday idea but Hale insists he has a mega appointment he has to prep for in thirty minutes. “I guess,” she agrees weakly. For a moment, she actually pays attention to Hale…and immediately objects to his clothing choice, which is basically his standard shirt, tie, vest, sports coat, and hat. “Dude! You are the leader of the Light Fae!” Good of you to remember that now, Kenz. “Hello? You need to start dressing like the Leader of the Light Fae.” He spreads his arms all this is what I always wear and Kenzi rightly points out that the sports coat is way casual, “and the shoes? I can’t even talk about the shoes.” Kenzi decides that it’s obvious Hale needs a stylist. “Oh,” he says with a trace of that beautiful smile, “and I suppose you’re just the Fly Girl to do it.”

The idea delights Kenzi and she immediately goes off about silk ties and tailored suits, “you know, your basic Ocean’s Eleven special.” I APPROVE! Hale makes approving noises also and hands over his credit card with a warning for Kenzi not to go too crazy. One glance at the black platinum card and for once, Kenzi actually loses the ability to speak. “The Ash has his own black platinum?!” she crows, twirling the card in her fingers as Hale gathers his stuff for his meeting. “Honey,” Hale says pointing to the credit card. “black platinum ain’t got nothin’ on that.” Kenzi laughs and throws herself into his arms, thanking him profusely while Hale “Okay, okays” his way out the door. “You will not regret this,” Kenzi promises Hale. She considers Hale’s fine rear view as he finally departs. “How do I feel about ascots?” she murmurs contemplatively. No, I don’t think she’s forgotten her dire need—I think she’s following Bo’s counseling lead and succumbing to retail therapy.

Bo is getting Regression 101 from Doctor (Zoie) Palmer. She posits that he hypnotizes his patients but Doctor (Zoie) Palmer clarifies that it’s only to help them access the repressed memories that negatively impact their daily lives. Bo likes to think that some things are best left forgotten but Doctor (Zoie) Palmer disagrees that some of their most treasured memories and dreams are repressed…he trails off as he gets a good look at the now empty waiting room. “Rolly never misses an appointment.” He goes off to look for Rolly’s mobile number while Bo wonders to where Tabitha has gotten. She heads for the parking garage…as you do in these circumstances…and finds Rolly trying to lift the back end of an SUV. “I am Captain Humongous!” he insists, “able to—grunt—stop cars with—grunt—one hand,” he grunts again with frustration and collapses against the car, out of breath, “lift—grunt—thousands of pounds!” Bo, with one quick assessment of Rolly, immediately goes to his bag and gets out the inhaler. “And take anybody out with one punch,” he finishes as he slides to the ground. “The only thing you’re going to do is hurt yourself,” Bo insists as she passes over the inhaler. She notes that he’s already got a cut on the side of his neck from all his exertions.

As Rolly’s breathing eases, the sound of screeching brakes sound through the garage. Rolly leaps to his feet. “It’s the devilish super villain,” he says intently, “and his cavalcade of weaponized vehicles!” Bo too gets to her feet. “Or not!” she snits. But getting to her feet proves too much for her overly tapped reservoirs of succustrength. She sways in place and barely catches herself against the car. With effort she shakes it off and focuses on Rollie…who is peering around the SUV at the oncoming evil cavalcade. Before Bo can react, he jumps in front of the oncoming car to attempt and stop it with one hand.

At the last minute, Bo manages to shove Rolly out of the way, but at a cost as the car slams her up and onto its hood. Wincing and in great pain, Bo struggles to her feet, cradling her right side. She reassures the driver she’s OK and urges him to go. Way to have the guy flee the scene of an accident there, kiddo. CCTV sees all. She helps Rolly up, but as the yet loopy kid turns to hurry of the departing devilish super villain again, Bo yanks him back and sucks him down until he falls to the floor. “That should slow you down for a bit,” she says with satisfaction. She is crouched over him, bridging his body, when a noise brings her head up. The look on her face and the image of her straddling an unconscious Rollie is…disturbing.

But look! There’s Tabitha making a slow emergence from behind a pillar. Bo hurries over to the girl, healed well enough from her Rolly appetizer to no longer need to cradle her side. Tabitha insists that it’s not what it looks like. She wisely keeps the concrete pillar between her and Bo. “Something is pushing the patients over the edge, but it’s not me!” she insists. Bo: “So you are Fae.” “Mayan Ixtab,” Tabitha admits, “a Suicide Fae.” Bo grabs her wrist and grits that it sounds like a confession but Tabitha resists…and Bo is still weak. “God,” she complains, “stop moving! You’re so bendy!” Tabitha credits that to twelve years of Yoga. Bo: “And a lifetime of killing!” Tabitha insists that isn’t the case anymore. “I’m in therapy!” Snort. Bo wonders if that’s true, then what is Tabitha doing in the garage. “I feed off the remains,” she admits. “I mean, they’re right there and I’m so hungry.” ANVIL DOWNPOUR. She doesn’t think Bo would understand but Bo breathlessly admits that Tabitha would be very surprised on that front. Tabitha insists she’s telling the truth and Bo suggests that she tell it to the Fae cops that she’s going to call. Proving herself not to be a total ditz, Tabitha takes that moment to punch Bo in her yet-injured side. As Bo falls back, Tabitha chirps an apology and runs away.

Bent over in pain, Bo hears Rolly start to wheeze with respiratory distress. She stumbles over and tries to rouse him as she digs out her phone and dials. Rolly’s wheezing gets worse, and after a few face pats, Bo is forced to attempt and feed chi back into Rolly. This proves the final straw for her depleted powers and she falls across him, unconscious, phone still in hand.

Dyson and Tamsin have arrived at the parking garage and are hovering around a now-conscious Bo. Behind them, a blanket-clad Rolly is escorted away by a uniformed cop. Dyson expositions that it was a good thing they were able to trace Bo’s mobile. Bo insists with temper that she’s fine even as she rubs again at her side but Dyson knows her too well and isn’t buying it. “You let an Ixtab get away. That’s not like you, Bo.” Tamsin sneers that she thought Bo was supposed to be unbeatable or something and Bo just glares at her. Dyson intervenes to say that at least they have an ID on the killer now but Bo disagrees that Tabitha is responsible for the patient’s deaths. Tamsin duhs that Tabitha is a Suicide Fae and Bo snaps back that the girl is in therapy. “Besides, none of these victims are committing suicide!” Tamsin thinks Bo is splitting hairs. “It’s like Occam’s beard-trimmer.” Dyson, without missing a beat: “Razor.” Tamsin: “Whatever.” HAHAHA. Oh, their rhythm is perfect in that exchange. Plus, I love Occam’s Razor references because it took me forever to properly understand the damn thing and how to apply it. I’m Polish; occasionally I have a really long learning curve.

“The simplest solution is usually the right one,” Tamsin educates us all. “So once we track this Mayan honey down, slap some steel on her wrists, this case will be closed.” All righty there then, trooper! Tamsin strides away. “I don’t know what I like about her more,” Bo gripes to Dyson, “her warmth or her charm.” Dyson mmm hmms her complaint, too busy watching Tamsin to make sure she’s out of earshot before he address his true concern. “You need to refuel,” he tells Bo, not even bothering with her whine about his partner. She tells him not to worry and then gets up and really, really close to him as her lower body sways toward his for a second. She tilts her head and for about two beats, stares longingly at his mouth and then sighs heavily. “I’m on it.” There’s one final beat when she meets his eyes—and she is not thinking about Doctor Lauren.

Back in the doc’s flat, the wind is blowing ethereal white curtains through the open window. Doctor Lauren and Bo are framed within the window’s borders; the doc lounges back on the white, double wide chaise clad only in a white, demi-cup bra and panty set that has pretty flowers on it. Bo, wearing a lacy black bra and panty set, bridges the doc’s body with her own. The symbolism of the set up is anvilicious but in a good way as Bo is practically…predatory. The doc is more than willing, sure, but Bo has essentially trapped her on the chaise. As the camera slowly moves closer, there’s a disproportionate visual distortion that makes Bo’s body seem twice the size as Doctor Lauren’s.

The two are making out and as the camera enters the room through the window and zooms in on them, we see the huge, ugly bruise that covers Bo’s hip and spreads onto her belly. Doctor Lauren apologies for earlier and Bo does the same and blames the case. The doc reminds Bo that she think Bo is smart and funny and beautiful and Bo makes some wordless assent because she can’t be bother to think about anything else then feeding right now. The camera zeroes in on the wound as it slowly fades…but not all the way. Interestingly, we’ve never seen the super swirly blue threads of a succufeed between Bo and Doctor Lauren…

Later, a redressed Doctor Lauren, still on the chaise, looks through Bo’s case file and comes to the same conclusion that Tabitha is innocent. Pain shoots through Bo as she tries to shrug back into her shirt, pain the resident doctor completely misses. Doctor Lauren notes that Lloyd the Magnificent had a complete depletion of serotonin and endorphins in his body. Bo salvos that such a state is unusual and the doc confirms that the fall alone would have spiked Lloyd’s adrenaline levels and yet he had none. “Something is getting these people excited and then feeding off their bursts of adrenaline,” she posits. Bo concludes this is not the usual despair that would satisfy a suicide Fae. Bo goes to leave but again is gobsmacked by pain and this time, since it’s right in front of her, the doc notices and asks if Bo is okay. Bo insists that she absolutely is but it’s clear she’s lying.

In the cop shop, Bo is bent over the table in the interrogation room (not like that!). Through teeth gritted against the pain, she tells Tamsin she can’t believe the cop is so totally close-minded. Tamsin: “And I can’t believe you suddenly think you’ve grown a badge!” She has a damn good point there. Again, I think Tamsin not getting on the Bo train is one of the best things the show has done this season, not that I expect it to last for long. Incidentally, the two women have more chemistry merely arguing with each other than a week’s worth of nekkid Bo and Doctor Lauren sex scenes.

Tamsin is in profile to Bo with arms crossed in annoyance. Behind her, next to the door, Dyson leans against the wall, his gaze and attention fixed on Bo and he is not thinking about the case. Bo yells that they need to investigate the clinic further and Tamsin shoots back that what they need to do is locate Tabitha. Bo again insists the receptionist isn’t responsible for the murders and, frustrated, Tamsin grouses that Bo is clearly out of her mind. “Dyson!” Bo shouts expecting him to back her up as usual. “Help me out here, dude!” Tamsin calls to her partner. Again, there’s a great rhythm here as their lines overlap, both of them correctly expecting Dyson to be in their individual corner. Dyson calmly says that he thinks they need to hear Bo out (no surprise there). Frustrated, Tamsin nods—of course you do—but outside of his personal reasons, Dyson is also working on two plus years’ experience of Bo having a bead on things to which the cops are not privy.

Gingerly, Bo eases onto the table and, with effort, begins to work through her reasons for not bringing in Tabitha. Dyson notes her movements with a frown and furrowed brow. She’s not fooling him for a minute. Bo explains that even if the receptionist is culpable, she most likely has a partner and Dyson wonders who that might be. She points out that Dr. (Zoie) Palmer is hypnotizing his patients and could be making them commit these “deadly acts.” Dyson asks if Bo thinks the doctor is Fae, and she has to admit she doesn’t know but that Lloyd and Rolly were both his patients. Tamsin, after some eye rolling and snide nodding, is finally listening. I like this note; I think it shows that she’s a good cop and not completely beyond getting past her shit to deal with the matter at hand. She still doesn’t like Bo, but she’s beginning to see why Bo doesn’t think Tabitha is guilty.

“And what about those articles I found on (Doctor [Zoie] Palmer’s) desk!” Bo demands of Tamsin. “I’m sorry,” she snarks, “but do I hear a plan in here anywhere?” She’s no longer discounting Bo’s theory; she just wants to know what Bo expects to do about it. Bo, getting weaker and breathing harder with every word, suggests they send someone in undercover as a patient and see what really goes on during one of the sessions. That might be hard to do if said undercover person is hypnotized during said session, but okey doke. Tamsin can actually get on board with that and offers to go, but Bo counters that she was thinking of someone who can smell Fae. Dyson smiles slightly and nods—of course you were—quirks an eyebrow and shrugs. “Worth a try.” Tamsin whatevers her way out of the room while Bo grunts and struggles to her feet. Dyson stays by the door until Tamsin is gone and watches Bo carefully make her way around the table. But as Bo tries to exit, he shuts the door in front of her and quietly asks if he can talk to her for a minute…privately.

They move into the observation room. Bo is fading more with every second. She asks him what’s going on and Dyson encourages her to tell him the same thing. “Oh Dyson, I really don’t have the energy to play mind reader with you right now.” She falls forward onto the table with a cry of pain. Alarmed, Dyson says her name and reaches out to help her, but immediately makes contact with her injured area. She recoils violently and Dyson freezes for a second—WHAT THE HELL?!— and then reaches for her shirt. “No, don’t,” she denies weakly batting at his hand. “Wait, please,” he pleads, seriously worried, and pulls her shirt up to reveal her wound. It has grown even larger than before and is now the black red of internal bleeding. “Bo, you’re bleeding,” he tells her. She insists it’s just a bruise. “Internally!” he yells. “This is serious.” Bo insists that she’s fine. She falls back to sit on the table. “You could die,” he tells her, low and intent. “Aren’t you feeding?” Bo says of course she is. “On what? A block of wood?!” Near enough, yes. “On (Doctor) Lauren,” she says. He doesn’t even flinch. There’s no surprise there, he doesn’t care (at the moment) who she’s sleeping with, he only wants to save her life. “And?” Dyson says, expecting to hear more, because they both know from experience that one human cannot sustain Bo. This is a Fae to Fae conversation, mere survival mechanics of the supernatural. “Only (Doctor) Lauren,” she admits. Dyson is genuinely aghast. “Are you crazy?!” he whispers. “I am monogamous,” Bo vows. “No,” Dyson counters firmly. “You’re a succubus.”

This is a familiar place for them; they’ve had this conversation before in S1E12. Then, as now, it was Bo who insisted on denying her nature for her partner while Dyson put the facts of the matter out in front of them; she is a succubus and ergo not wired for monogamy. He has understood this fundamental aspect of Bo from the very start when he powered her up for her battle against the Underfae in S1E1. At the time of S1E12, he was feeling his way through how to reconcile his belief in that core tenet of her nature, and the territorial instincts of his own nature as a wolf man in love with her. Aoife and the Norn (freaking Norn!) cut them off at the knees before Bo and Dyson could decided how they were going to proceed together in figuring that out, except for the fact that they wanted to proceed together and figure it out.

Now here again, he’s reminding her of her nature and the consequences of denying that nature for the sake of her lover and in adherence to a morality meter that doesn’t fit the Fae world or the life and needs of a succubus. He even uses the exact same words—you’re a succubus. Because Bo, for all the advancement she’s made in the Faedom and all the understanding she’s gained of her Fae abilities and nature, is still church socials and prom queen—she still thinks and feels like a human. She wants the picket fence. Her instinctive desire is to be faithful to her partner, in this case, to Doctor Lauren, as it was to be faithful to Dyson when they first faced this complication in their relationship.

Right now, Bo is dying for it. “You can’t sustain yourself on one human alone—you need to feed!” Dyson exhorts. This isn’t about Doctor Lauren and it isn’t about him. It’s merely about Bo’s survival. She knows he’s right but she can’t admit it. “I can’t. I can’t,” she sobs, completely undone, her excruciating pain warring with her stubborn pride. Terrified for her, seeing that she’s spiraling down, aware that what he’s about to do will likely eviscerate him emotionally, Dyson does what he always does—he gives Bo what she needs.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes and cups her neck with his hands to steady her, center her. “Look, there are no strings here. No feelings.” He actually gets that out without faltering and his having said that begins to bring Bo around. No feelings, you say? She looks at him—she needs him so much right now at her very basic level. “It’s either me or an ambulance,” he says dead serious. “I’m not kidding.” Finally, he gets through to her the urgency of her situation.  She studies his face, swaying in place, held upright only by his hold on her head. “No feelings?” she clarifies. A lovely, gentle piano theme plays, because of course there are a whole helluva lot of feelings churning around here for both of them.  Dyson hesitates. He’s waited too long to tell her about his returned love and now he knows if he doesn’t sell this lie, she’s stubborn enough not to feed from him and then will likely be dead my morning. Internal bleeding is not shit with which one should mess around. But saying it twice is beyond him. He blinks and barely moves his head, but that’s enough confirmation for Bo.

Overcome with relief and blood loss, she actually falls into herself and can barely manage to put her hands on his shoulders. Dyson tentatively moves in to kiss her—she is seriously injured and he does not want to hurt her even more. Plus, this is not how he’d imagined their first post-love return kiss to turn out. Nevertheless, he inhales deeply as he kisses her. One touch renews Bo enough for her to grip Dyson’s waistband through his shirt and she yanks him against her, groin to groin, so roughly, the table rattles. And Dyson’s face…

He hasn’t kissed her since the beginning of season two, hasn’t been with her for longer than that, hasn’t felt passion for her in all that while. For one second, before they get down to the quick stuff, before she has chance to suck him under, he just feels the moment. Relearns her taste. There. His hand strokes down her arm once. Home.  Bo isn’t immune to the moment either and at first and in spite of the greatness of her need, she doesn’t even feed from him. For a second, it’s just Bo and Dyson together. And then she pulls back from his kiss and gulps down his chi. It’s not enough. She clutches his throat in one hand, pushes him back, and follows that power surge back to his mouth. Whimpering, gasping, she can barely manage to break the kiss long enough to strip off his shirt—(Hel-lo Hot Tattoo Alert!! Oh, I’ve missed you! Hey, I didn’t recap episode 2; gimme a break)—and goes to work on his pants (I APPROVE) but it’s been too long and she’s too hungry. She moans and clutches his neck and pulls him back for more lip action. As though they’d never been apart, Dyson doesn’t miss a step but picks her up to help her get better access. His hand under her thigh supports her as Bo wraps her legs around his waist and feeds without reservation.

STREWTH. God, they are so bloody good together! No, I will not tell you how many times I rewound that scene. Shuddup. Man, that’s like—what?—barely a full minute of film and yet miles and miles hotter than the double doccubus appropriately named cold opens. Eh, when you’ve got it…you’ve got it! And Team Badass has got it to spare! More please!

Down in Siren’s Speakeasy (drink!), a bird-like older woman, festooned (I love that word) in feathers, and with a heavy air of self-importance, sits frozen in place and stares straight ahead. She’s wearing these fantastic large dangling earrings and I think a tight leather bondage-y jacket. The burgundy feathers are around her neck and top her Staff of Importance—another staff?!?!—and I dig the color hard. Heeerrrreeee’ssss Kenzi! She power walks in with samples in hand. “Hale!” she calls, waving. “I just need two seconds of your time.” Standing behind his desk, Hale immediately goes into Fae charades, silently shushing Kenzi and making frantic gestures at Bird Woman. First, Kenzi might be a wee self-centered, but she’s not an idiot and she’s already played nice and formal with Hale for his family’s sake. It’s not like she doesn’t know how to read a room either. So for her to trundle into the speakeasy like this, completely disregarding the clearly official situation is not at all in character. She might barge in, but she wouldn’t carry on once she learned the sitch. But, whatever. She pauses to admire Bird Woman’s “sick outfit. Very Gaga-esque,” then hurries to Hale’s side to tell him she’s found this amazing Australian wool that’s only on sale for the day.

Hale is literally having a conniption fit. “This is not the time,” he says through his teeth barely taking his eyes from Bird Woman. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Tim Gunn,” Kenzi counters, “it’s that it’s always the time for fashion.” Apparently Tim Gunn references are too much for Bird Woman. She takes a deep, loud breath and knocks her staff three times on the floor. No darling, you do that on the ceiling but only if you want me and twice on the pipe if the answer is no.

Without a word, Bird Woman departs Siren’s Speakeasy (drink!), Hale calls after her, “No Ambassador Brynhildr!  Ambassador!” He chases after her but stops in the doorway and turns on Kenzi. “Kenz, we were in the middle of something!” Kenzi holds out the Australian wool sample and says it looked like a whole lotta nothing to her. Oy, whatever. Hale struggling to hold on to his temper, explains that the ambassador was conferring with her ancestors. Kenzi is still flittering around with the samples. “You mean like a conference call with dead people?” She holds several ties up to Hale’s chest. “It requires silence! Pure silence!” he snaps and shoves her hands aside. Kenzi wonders how “a girl’s” supposed to know that. “Just put a sock on the door or something,” she mutters and holds a pair of pants up against his waist. Hale yells at her, “This isn’t Spring Break in Cancun!” as his temper snaps and he shoves her hands away again more forcefully.

Hale has never spoken to Kenzi that way and it stops her cold. “My life hasn’t exactly been mojitos and sandy beaches,” she says, voice trembling. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” But Hale is too caught up in the ramifications of what just happened to hear her. “I gotta fix this mess,” he says and walks out on her. Stunned, Kenzi stares after him, alone with her secrets once more.

Dyson’s face fills the frame and all the spit in my mouth instantly dries up. He’s dressed in a white shirt, but it’s one of those fabulous trendy men’s shirts where the button down is framed with additional placards or whatever they’re called. Look, Tim Gunn is not in my living room right now, okay? Typical for Dyson (for which I am always so, so grateful), the wide collar is opened and raised, effectively framing his head. I hit the pause button and stare. For an hour. Possibly two.

Lost in thought, he studies the ground and it’s clear he’s reliving the moments of (making love with) healing Bo. He inhales, scenting her again, and smiles enough to crease the sides of his mouth. It was good. It was really, really good. His brow furrows as the reality of his situation returns to chase away the memory of touching Bo again after so long. He shakes his head slightly and the brief moment of contentment fades. That was some excellent, quiet, moment by moment work from KHR there.

Peering at him from across the room, Doctor (Zoie) Palmer asks if “Mister Dyson” is all right. Dyson glances at the doctor and answers truthfully. “Kind of, yeah.” He pauses as though realizing the inconsequence of that answer. “You know I think I really do need help emotionally, doc,” he says, ending with some self-deprecating laughter as he rubs his fingers over his eyes and forehead and tries to shake it off. Oh honey, if anyone needs to talk it out, it’s you. Or drink it out. The two are surprisingly similar result wise. Also, this is a striking difference from Dyson’s attitude toward his required counseling in S1E4 after he used bar maid Kayla to follow Trick’s orders and force a split with Bo. Character growth, he haz it. Additionally, this sequence DOESN’T WORK, show, when you DELETE the ESSENTIAL lead in of Dyson DISPLAYING THE EMOTION. OY!

Doctor (Clover) Bob snarls at Dyson, bringing him back to the matter at hand – his undercover stint in Doctor (Zoie) Palmer’s office. Doctor (Zoie) Palmer apologies as Doctor (Clover) Bob is usually so friendly. “Must be my wolf dogs,” Dyson says in THAT VOICE as he looks after the fleeing cat. “I have dogs,” he says again to the doctor and this is another yummy if smaller taste of Meta as KHR does indeed have a beloved dog. I think this whole office set is peppered with inside jokes only the cast and crew are likely to get.

He cants his head and inhales deeply, looking around the room. Doctor (Zoie) Palmer asks if it’s allergies that are bothering him and Dyson says no. “I smell layers. Chemical compounds. A hint of vanilla.” Doctor (Zoie) Palmer: “Oh gosh. Is it the incense? The candles? The cat litter?” Hee. Dyson doesn’t respond but frowns and sniffs some more. Sniffer is getting a work out tonight! Doctor (Zoie) Palmer observes that Dyson has a remarkable sense of smell. “It’s usually a little more remarkable actually,” Dyson counters. Something in the office is blocking the power of the wolf sniffer!

Doctor (Zoie) Palmer invites Dyson to begin session and Dyson sits up, shifts forward, and, exhaling deeply, closes his eyes. Doctor (Zoie) Palmer begins the hypnotism mantra and Dyson goes under. “I want you to reach waaayyy back into your earliest childhood,” Doctor (Zoie) Palmer invites. “Remember that time of endless possibilities and idyllic dreams.” Thought we went there last week, but all righty then. Ooohh. Is Dyson gonna dance again?! Win!

“I want you to think about one of those dreams,” Doctor (Zoie) Palmer says. “Focus on it.” The light around Dyson darkens as he sinks back into his childhood. “Become it.” Dyson opens his eyes on a gasp. The light around him is bright and inviting. The noises of the forest of his childhood fill his ears, the sounds of animals and birds. He breathes deeply over and over and, astonished, laughs with unbridled delight.

“It was amazing!” Dyson is at The Dal (drink!) giving Trick and Bo the lowdown on his regression session. “I was grounded but, like—energized.” His hands are working overtime in an effort to get his point across to the two most important people in his life, excepting Kenzi of course. “Felt like I was given a new lease on life,” he confesses. “And a nick on your neck,” Bo observes. Dyson brushes it off as left over from shaving or something. And there’s definitely a difference in him. Maybe it’s the white shirt, but he seems—lighter. Freer. That’s some major mojo working on him. Trick, who knows better, is frowning and Bo can’t quite track with what Dyson’s saying either. “During this session, you didn’t smell Fae,” Trick confirms. Dyson admits that at first he thought he smelled something, “but there were too many scents in the air. There was incense and candles and, ah-kitty litter,” he finishes with an exasperated hand gesture. Trick grimaces and explains to Bo that the diatomaceous silica in the litter could have clouded Dyson’s senses. “Seriously,” Bo snarks. “Your kryptonite is kitty litter?!” Dyson throws out some very masculine jazz hand action in response—Guess so!—and Bo laughs. Trick points out that Doctor (Zoie) Palmer could have convinced Dyson under hypnosis that he, the doctor, wasn’t Fae. “Nah,” Dyson denies. “I remember everything, Trick,” he says, with the zeal of a new convert. His flip phone (yeesh) chirps with a message and he digs it out. “It brought me back to my earliest childhood memories.” And here he give Trick an eyebrow waggle—uh huh, those—before reading the readout on his phone. It’s from Tamsin and Dyson sobers as he tells Trick and Bo that there’s another victim. “And if Dyson was with (Doctor [Zoie]) Palmer…” Trick leads. “Then it looks like Tabitha could be our killer after all,” Bo reluctantly finishes for him.

Bo and Dyson arrive at the crime scene where Tamsin is waiting for them. “Well,” Tamsin says as they walk toward the body. “Hate to say I told you so…” Bo: “There’s a lot of things I’m sure you hate. That’s not one of them.” Tamsin chuckles meanly. The uniformed officer lifts the crime scene tape for the women to duck under. Dyson does some manly patting thing with the officer indicating they know one another. Tamsin checks her phone as they approach the covered body and relates that the victim drowned and witness report that she dove into the lake but appeared not to be able to swim. Dyson is twitching and pulling at his shirt as though ants are crawling under his skin. Mildly irritated, Bo grabs his arm and asks if he’s OK. Distracted, Dyson answers “yeah, yeah,” and rolls his shoulders, “it’s just this shirt’s a little tight.” The shirt is perfect but if you feel the need to take it off, by all means, follow that urge.” Well, try to keep it on,” Bo snaps a little sharper than she meant to and Dyson shoots her A Look. You sure about that? Bo seems less confident in her ability to keep from jumping him again at the slightest provocation, now that she’s been reminded how good he tastes.

Dyson crouches down next to Tamsin who explains that some people pulled the victim to shore. He carefully pulls back the cover…to reveal Tabitha as the victim. She has the same cut that Rolly and now Dyson display on their necks and is dressed in a mermaid costume. Dyson rubs his neck and muses that she must not be their killer after all…considering she’s dead. Bo can’t resist self-righteously snarking, “Toldja so.” Tamsin tilts her head away from both of them as Dyson studies Tabitha’s dead body. Of course you did.

Dyson, Bo, and Tamsin regroup back at The Dal (drink!). Dyson is unusually distraction, brow furrowed as he rubs the back of his neck as though there’s a crick he can’t reach and sighs heavily. “So!” Tamsin chirps. “We have a dead mermaid, a dead tightrope walker, and an almost dead superhero.” Bo: “Does anyone else sense a pattern here?” Tamsin raises one long finger. I do! Heh. Bo is certain their killer has to be Doctor (Zoie) Palmer but Dyson insists the guy wasn’t Fae. “You said you couldn’t tell if he was Fae,” Bo is quick to remind him. “Raksasha!” Trick calls from the bar where he’s been pouring over a Fae library book. Hey, if you bring food or drink with you into a Fae library, do they suck your life force in penance? Can you imagine what the overdue fine might be there?

All three Fae look over at Trick. “Bless you,” Tamsin tosses out. “No,” Trick says with strained patience. “Doctor (Zoie) Palmer might be a Raksasha.” There’s a silent beat where Bo, Dyson, and Tamsin all loudly think what’s a Raksasha? “An Indonesian illusionist and shape shifter,” Trick explains. He holds up a scroll he just happens to have lying nearby that features a silhouette of a large rat-like creature who looks like an early reject from Fantasia’s drawing board…or possibly The Secret of Nimh.

Tamsin surmises that it would probably be fairly easy for the Raksasha to change his form then, “into, say, a friendly therapist,” she says to Dyson pointedly. Bo takes up the expositional ball, “and make people act out crazy stunts that get them killed.” Both woman, for once in accord, are now looking at Dyson, who is back to rubbing his neck. “People should be allowed their dreams,” he says with feeling apropos of nothing and directed at the table. Bo and Tamsin exchange concerned glances—what was that now?—well, Bo is concerned; Tamsin is, typically, annoyed.

Helpfully, Trick’s antiquated phone rings before they can pursue Dyson’s unusual behavior. Trick gets increasingly agitated as he listens to the caller. “He did what?!” He sighs heavily. “No. I’ll take care of it,” he says in a hard, angry voice, hangs up the phone, and excuses himself from the room. Oooohhhhh. Somebody done pissed off the Blood King! Never a good idea.

Bo stands and strongly suggests they go question Doctor (Zoie) Palmer. Tamsin smacks her hand on the table and rises. “Right behind you.” Ya know, if these two actually start working well together, the world should run and hide. Quickly. Dyson also gets to his feet, but he’s emphatic that Doctor (Zoie) Palmer isn’t going to talk if they all come down on him. Bo asks if he has a better plan. “Let me go see if I can sniff something out,” he says. Cause that worked out so well last time? Tamsin’s body language broadcasts her doubt in his plan and Bo outright if cautiously suggests she “come with.” “Better if I go by myself,” Dyson counters with jerky arm gestures. “He and I have a rapport.” Oh, he’s so cute when he delusional! Also, I am digging the longer, rumpled hair. But then I dig the whole package. Hard.

Bo and Tamsin exchange glances as Dyson and his long-legged stride depart The Dal (drink!). “I dunno,” Tamsin says as Bo’s phone rings. She looks at the readout and hesitates, suddenly tense. “Hey (Doctor) Lauren,” she answers fake-casual. Doctor Lauren wants her to come to the flat right away and though Bo looks like she just swallowed a lemon whole, she says she’ll come right over. “There’s something I gotta talk about with you too.” The doc is so not gonna like hearing about Bo being with Dyson.

Back in Siren’s Speakeasy, Trick is taking The Ash (Hale!) to task. Uh huh. “Ambassador Brynhildr only comes out of her turret once every four months,” he grits out. First of all, I want a turret. Secondly, heeee. “We cannot let her leave without approval from her ancestors about the Dyson/Tamsin trial program!” Hale stands before Trick like a guilty schoolboy. Trick finishes with, “What—the hell—happened!” Hey, stop yelling at the leader of the Light Fae, Blood King! Hale calmly says they were interrupted and tries to brush it off as not that big a deal. He smiles slightly and tries to slide in, “you know how Kenzi just…bursts in on things,” but Trick has now found the source of the issue.  “Kenzi!” he shouts and Hale as the grace to look abashed. He knows what’s coming. “What was Kenzi doing at such an important engagement?”

Embarrassed, Hale ducks his head. “She’s my…” he puts his hands on his hips and looks off to the left, “…stylist,” he mumbles. But Trick isn’t letting him off the hook. “What was that?” Hale sighs and caves to the inevitable. “She’s my stylist! I told her she could be my stylist!”

Trick cannot believe what he’s hearing. “You are The Ash now.” You might want to remember that in your tone there, Trickster. “And not quite the horse everyone’s betting on,” he adds with relish. Trick’s attitude is beginning to piss me off.  Thankfully, Hale’s had about enough of it too. “Whoa, whoa, look, I’m tired of taking it in the nads every time I turn around here.” Spreading his arms wide, Trick obnoxiously points out that Hale’s the one who wanted to make a difference. Succeeding where you’ve failed for thousands of years, Blood King. “So here’s your chance. But that means protecting the inner workings of your office and your people!”

“It’s just Kenzi! Come on!” Hale insists with affection, flashing that siren smile. But Trick is stripped down to full Fae mode and all its prejudices. “We all love Kenzi,” he says expansively. “But make no mistake,” he says darkly, dropping the smile and stepping closer to Hale. “She’s not one of us.” Hale scoffs and looks away. “That’s harsh.” It is harsh, and it shows that, at his core, Trick is just as old skool Fae about humans as the rest of them. “Nobody said this would be easy,” Trick responds because nothing gets your point across like a good cliché. Defeated, Hale asks what he supposed to do. “You step up!” Trick exhorts. “You do what you have to do,” Trick yells, “even if it’s more than you can bear!” He knows that cost intimately, having given up his daughter to forge the original peace. And he knows what it is he’s asking of Hale. Anyone else getting flashbacks to season one when Trick ordered Dyson to break up with Bo? What the hell does Trick have against the women?!

Bo enters Doctor Lauren’s flat geared for confession. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s going to be hard to hear….” but the doc waves her off before she can get going, much more interested in the stuff she’s got spread across her desk. I find it interesting that her emblem of ownership by The Ash dangles prominently in frame. The doc’s been reviewing Bo’s case file that she handily left behind and points out that both Lloyd and Tabitha have cuts on their necks in the same place. Bo notes that they have the same wound and the doc adds that it continues to bleed after rigor mortis which isn’t possible. “I think that’s how the Fae enters the victims and how it continues to feed off of them.” She asks if Bo’s following what she’s thinking and Bo immediately answers, “Dyson.” The doc flinches and frowns: not him again. “That’s not—exactly—where I was going,” she says haltingly and there’s this fraction of a moment at the end of that sentence where she looks at the floor and shows exactly how she feels about him and his position in Bo’s life. It constantly amazes me how well Zoie Palmer works those tiny moments. But Bo is, as usual, oblivious. “Doctor Palmer must be the Raksasha!” she says, not remembering that Doctor Lauren wasn’t in on the whole Raksasha conversation. Seriously, every time someone says Rakshasa it triggers an earworm of the B52’s Rock Lobster.

“He hypnotizes his patients into acting out childhood fantasies and feeds off their adrenaline until they die!” Bo’s phone begins to ring. “Dyson was hypnotized!” she tells Doctor Lauren as she digs it out. “He has the same wound.” She answers the phone, “What’s up?” and I’m surprised with her matter-of-fact attitude to find out that its Tamsin. “Dyson never made it back to the cop shop and he’s not answering his phone,” she says. It’s clear she’s worried and that she already knows Bo is the first person to call when there’s a problem with Dyson. Plus, it shows Tamsin’s accepted her as part of the working unit rather than trying to exclude her when Dyson’s not there to pull in Bo personally. Bo tells Tamsin to meet her at the clinic and Tamsin smiles with confident satisfaction. “I’m already on my way, sweetheart.” Bo tells Doctor Lauren that she’ll l talk to her later and hurries out.

In Doctor (Zoie) Palmer’s office, where the lighting is now oddly painted with a blue gel, a manically enthused Dyson advances on a retreating Doctor (Zoie) Palmer. “I don’t know how you did it, doc,” Dyson says intently. They pass Doctor (Clover) Bob who is perched on the back of the couch. “But you made me see the truth. You made me see that—I’ve been living a lie! For years!” he shouts. Dyson pauses, looks at the desk, and picks up a large knife-like letter opener. “For hundreds of years!” he repeats, brandishing the knife in emphasis. Freaked out, Doctor (Zoie) Palmer yet pings on the whole “hundreds” thing as he hides behind the desk. “I made a wrong turn somewhere,” Dyson continues, wagging the letter opener, “but I can change that. I can see that!” Without looking he easily tosses the desk out of his way and Doctor (Zoie) Palmer cowers in the desk chair. “I can go back now,” Dyson vows. “I see that – I can go back!” He bends over Doctor (Zoie) Palmer, puts a hand on his shoulder and points the sharp letter opener at him. “Please,” Doctor (Zoie) Palmer begs, “put that down.” But Dyson does not hear him. “You can help me, doc. I am ready! I am ready to be what I was meant to be!” he insists in a near whisper.

Sometime later, Doctor (Zoie) Palmer is back in his office chair, a knife again to his jugular. “What—is it—with people and daggers!” he gasps. The camera pulls back and we see that this time Tamsin stands behind him holding the knife. She leans over his shoulder to speak near his ear. “They’re very convincing.” I can but agree. “Unlike you,” Bo comments from her position before him, “which is strange considering you hypnotize people into killing themselves!” But Doctor (Zoie) Palmer is genuinely confused and insists he does not do that. “We know you’re a Raksasha,” Bo accuses smugly. Honestly, sometimes I think they say these names so many times in an episode because they’re just so damn proud of having learned how in the first place.

“Look,” Doctor (Zoie) Palmer finally gives in, “I’m just some guy who took a couple of Internet courses on hypnosis.” Bo and Tamsin exchange worried looks. “I don’t even know what the hell I’m really doing!” he admits. Bo leans over and pours on the succubus touch to get to the heart of the matter. “Come on, Doctor (Zoie) Palmer. You’re really not Fae?” Doctor (Zoie) Palmer, confused: “Fae?!” It’s clear he has no idea what they’re talking about.

Tamsin straightens and rolls her eyes. She and Doctor Lauren should have a competition on that, given the volume of times each employs the motion. “Oh great,” she sneers. Doctor (Zoie) Palmer can’t stop confessing. “I shouldn’t even be practicing,” he continues. “I don’t help people. All my patients end up dead.” Tamsin: “So Dyson’s out there with a monster on his tail and all we’ve got to go on is Doctor Dipshit.” Snort. Bo, increasingly afraid for Dyson, demands to know if he said anything else to Doctor (Zoie) Palmer. “Anything at all?!” Doctor (Zoie) Palmer says Dyson was ranting mostly, “about being the king of creatures.” He wants to be a lion now? Well, we Leos are the best of the bunch. “Wanting to fly,” Doctor (Zoie) Palmer adds and Tamsin and Bo both look up with alarm. “The roof!” Bo confirms, and Tamsin immediately sprints out the door. Bo hurries after her but is stopped in the doorway when a still under Doctor (Zoie) Palmer asks dazedly if they left the door open. “Doctor (Clover) Bob has a tendency to escape.” Bo takes a step back into the office as everything finally clicks into place. “Doctor (Clover) Bob,” she whispers to herself and then runs off after Tamsin and Dyson.

Up on the roof, Dyson stands at the very edge, hands spread wide as if feeling the air. The camera shoots up from beneath him so the midday sun shines behind his head like a crown. He breathes deeply, rolling his shoulders back as the camera rises up his form to show the entire rooftop, which includes Tamsin cautiously approaching from the back. “Hey! Buddy! What do you say we go to The Dal (drink!), grab a couple fingers of the good stuff?”  But Dyson is in full on crazy mode. “I’m not going back there!” he declares. Tamsin struggles for another route of communication. “Okay, look, if you’re—depressed or something….” Dyson insists that he’s happier than he’s ever “bean” (I love it when KHR’s Canadian pronunciations pop through) and to prove it, he begins to unbutton his shirt, which makes me pretty damn happy.

“I had a dream once,” he says, taking off his shirt. “And I’m gonna make that dream come true.” Tamsin tries to joke their way out of this situation. “Jeez,” she kids. “If you wanted to sleep with me, you didn’t have to get up on a ledge to get my attention.” No, he pretty much just has to breathe. And you are really bad at this shit, Tamsin.

“I was born into a family of shape shifters!” Dyson announces as he removes his belt. Interesting. Does this mean the wolf was a choice he made when he came into adulthood? Is there a moment in a young shape-shifter’s journey when he/she has to commit to one animal form? If this is so, what made Dyson choose the wolf? WHY won’t this show get away from this fucking triangle bullshit, and start writing episodes about fascinating character shit like that?! But, whatever.

The camera frames a nice long shot of his rear view and Hot Tattoo Alert!! Realizing she’s not getting through to him, Tamsin frowns. “But I was meant to be a griffin!” Dyson declares as he tosses his belt aside. Tamsin looks off after the discarded belt and then holds up a long, imperious finger. “OK, I’m warning you! Do not unwrap the wang!” Ha! Also, shuddup Tamsin! UNWRAP THE WANG, DYSON!

Dyson continues to ignore her. “I can’t be GROUNDED anymore!” he yells triumphantly. He rolls his shoulders back again and stretches out his torso. “I need to fly! I need to be frrreeeeee.” Okay, seriously, his delivery is cracking me up. Not sure that was the intended result, but there it is. Behind him, Tamsin employs some agitated jazz hands of her own as she flounders on what to do next.  Thankfully, this is when Bo decides to join the party. She bursts through the roof door and immediately demands to know to where Doctor (Clover) Bob has got. Tamsin turns around and bends over with relief (not like that!) to see Bo. Behind her, Dyson has spread his arms akimbo in preparation of flight.

“Thank goodness you are here!” Tamsin calls to Bo, “I am so bad at this shit!” WE KNOW! Bo demands to know if Tamsin has seen Doctor (Zoie) Palmer’s cat. “Forget the cat! You talk Manimal down over here and I’ll go after the Raksasha.” Bo explains that Doctor (Clover) Bob is the Raksasha and looks at Dyson with concern over Tamsin’s shoulder. “He feeds off the adrenaline of his victims when they live out their childhood dreams,” she says, again. Seriously, show, if you really are carefully choosing what you cut for the U.S. SyFy channel runs, I strongly suggest turning your knives to trim some of this damned redundancy instead of your usual choice of nearly everything Hale related.

“Well,” Tamsin says without too much care as she jerks a thumb over her shoulder, “you’ve got your work cut out for you because this one wants to be half lion, half eagle, and full asshole.” HAHAHA!! Without a pause, she heads off after Doctor (Clover) Bob “Here kitty kitty!” It’s official: I like her. Tamsin can stay. I really like how they’re writing for her—snarky with a bit of mean—and especially the fact that it doesn’t feel as though she getting lines that should’ve gone to Kenzi.

“Dyson!” Bo calls out and her voice alone is enough to get him to turn away from the edge. “Bo,” he says warmly as the Raksasha’s influence has stripped away any barriers he’s used to keep Bo from seeing his returned love. “I’m so glad you’re here to see my…transformation.” Okay, hearing him say things like this is beginning to get a little creepy. “Into a griffin?!” Bo asks all do you hear yourself?!  Dyson pontificates how he grew up hearing about them, “a creature of strength and magnificence!” He breathes deeply. “I wanted to be them so badly!” he admits, turning back around to the roof’s edge.

“You are strong and magnificent,” Bo insists with feeling as she approaches him. “You are a wolf,” and this is enough to bring his head back around to her as desperation brings the hard truth from her. “Loved,” she continues, “by so many people!”

“Not by you,” he counters, quiet and sad. His statement stuns Bo for a moment and there is such longing on her face as her entire expression screams that’s not true and how can you say that. But before she can react further, Tamsin calls out, “I got it!” She asks how to kill the Raksasha again and Bo screams, “WITH LEAD!” Tamsin steps up to the kitty kitty, who meows (aww)—and then transforms into the rat-like Raksasha, of which we only see a very large shadow as it rises to it full and truly enormous form. “Um,” Tamsin hesitates. “How much lead are we talkin’ here?”

But, back in control of her reactions, Bo has turned back to the Dyson crisis at hand. “Dyson, you are the wolf. Strong. Fast. Fierce.” Nice of you to remember that, kiddo. Dyson wavers and looks once more out to the sky. “But my dream…” he murmurs. Bo steps even closer. “It was the dream of a child,” she says with emotion. She stops right in front of him. “Your wolf is the dream of a man.” And what a man! She takes a deep breath and holds out her hand. “A man that we all love.” Nice callback to the “I love you…all” moment of S2E22 there, show. Dyson looks at her outstretched hand. “Come on,” she implores and reluctantly he takes it and allows Bo to tug him off the ledge. Immediately, Bo steps into him, grabs the back of Dyson’s neck, and breathes chi back into him. Dyson inhales and blinks and shakes his head slightly as he comes back to himself. Shaken—she came way too close there to losing him for good—and unspeakably relieved—I’ve got you back—for one moment all of Bo’s love for Dyson shines from her smile and she can’t keep from stroking his face—there you are—and holding on to his shoulder for one more second. Gasping with exertion, Dyson glances over Bo’s shoulder just as the Raksasha growls. “Tamsin, watch out!” he shouts across the rooftop. Bo whirls in his arms to gape at the beast.

Tamsin, however, is completely unfazed. “Don’t worry your pretty little heads,” she says and pats her chest. “I got this.” Unzipping her jacket, she reveals a harness full of throwing blades from which she draws a large, jagged, curved dagger. “This should do it.” She whirls it on one finger (that looks more steel than lead but whatever) and then expertly flings it at the Raksasha who falls to the rooftop, dead. Bo relaxes in relief with a sigh, Dyson at her back. Tamsin dusts off her hands. “All right!” she chirps as though she does this sort of shit every day. Wouldn’t surprise me if she did. She cocks her head at Team Bad Ass. “Let’s get tanked!” Yup. Definitely can keep this one. Breathing heavily, Bo turns back to an exhausted but clear-headed Dyson. “Come on,” she whispers and leads the way after Tamsin.

Back at The Dal (drink!), Bo and Dyson sit across the table from each other and share a drink (see?!). Bo asks, not without affection, how he’s holding up. “Well, I’m gonna be avoiding rooftops for a while, you can count on that,” he ruefully admits. Bo chuckles appreciatively. Dyson gulps from his mug all contemplative. “No, but this whole thing has made me realize that I have ‘bean’ neglecting my wolf.” WE KNOW.  “So, more howling at the moon then,” Bo says with warmth. “More of everything,” he replies with relish. His face is the most relaxed and…comfortable than it’s “bean” in a while. They smile slightly at each other, both thinking of what “everything” usually entails and Bo looks down at the table. “And how are you?” he asks gently. Bo follows his point without effort and companionably pats her no-longer-wounded side. “I—am good as new,” she says with appreciation. He nods, accepting the unspoken thanks for his part in healing her.

She takes the opportunity to address the elephant in the room and leans forward. “Dyson, what happened with us? It can’t happen again.” Dyson lowers his gaze and swallows; he’s known this was coming from the first. “You can’t survive off of (Doctor) Lauren alone,” he reminds her, neatly avoiding any agreement with her fallacy that they’re never going to happen again. Bo has already come to terms with this. “And I will talk to her about that, but,” she pauses, “you and me,” she says exhaling heavily, “with our history…I mean, obviously you can’t feel anything anymore but…”  Bo looks down at the table, breaking eye contact as she says this last all too casually. Part of her is merely stating what she believes to be the continued state of things but another part she hasn’t allowed herself to look at in a long time is desperately hoping he’s about to say otherwise. But Dyson merely glances away rather than confirm or deny. “It’s still hurtful,” Bo admits and then, after a speaking pause, hastily tacks on, “to (Doctor) Lauren.” He looks up quickly at that, then back down as he nods. Now who’s being delusional? You’ve sucked down his chi and bang him senseless and you still haven’t figured out he’s back to—erm—full form? Honey, those blinders you’re wearing are GIGANTIC.

All magnanimous now, Bo puts her hand on his forearm and gives him a small, unhappy smile. “You understand, right?” This is part of their unique connection, part of their love for each other that stretches beyond whether they’re sharing the same bed. Just as she had to deal with him being with PerfectCiara rather than trying to overcome the curse with her, he now has to respect her with Doctor Lauren and let it run its course. They both know, though for different reasons, that the moment she needs him for healing or anything else, he’ll be there and that she vices that versa.

Dyson looks down at her hand on his arm, perhaps knowing it’s the last intimate touch she’ll give him for some time, and watches as her thumb subconsciously strokes his skin, betraying her external attitude. “Of course I do,” he assures her and then meets her gaze. Bo smile warmly; she loves it when people go along with what she wants no matter the cost to them. (Seriously, where is Jobina?) “I knew you would,” she said a bit too confidently and squeezes his arm. “Cheers,” Dyson offers, lifting his mug and they clink glasses all friendly like as Tamsin enters The Dal (drink!) in the background. Bo looks at her glass a second before drinking—okay that’s one lie down  to—and then drinks. For his part, Dyson watches her over the rim of his mug with amused knowledge of all things Bo. She huffs out a breath, pats his hand, and gets up to leave. The moment she turns away, Dyson drops his friendly look. Slowly he examines his forearm where she’d touched him only moments ago.

As Bo passes Tamsin, they exchange a long, assessing look as if unsure how to proceed now that they’ve served a common purpose together. Bo shakes her head as she exits, unable to imagine why Tamsin still doesn’t like her. Tamsin approaches Dyson and makes quick assessment of his state. “Damn,” she greets him with a pat on the shoulder. “That girl really gets to ya, huh?” This is one of the things I like about Tamsin; she knows and doesn’t care how Dyson feels about Bo so long as it doesn’t interfere with their work. She genuinely isn’t interested in his personal life beyond how it might affect her and has no agenda where the two of them are concerned, or at least, not yet. Dyson doesn’t answer her, or at least, not out loud. He stares at Bo’s empty chair, his expression all yeah she really does and he briefly looks off after Bo as Tamsin straddles the seat next to him. “Tell ya what? How ‘bout I buy us a pitcher and you can tell me alllll about it. Okay?” she offers. Now, that’s a partner. “Nope,” he says lightly. “You’re just gonna sit here brooding?” Tamsin sneers. But Dyson has (thankfully) reached his limit there too. “No,” he murmurs with more than a few shades of his old self, “we’re going out and we’re gonna tear this town apart.” ‘BOUT DAMN TIME, SHOW.

Tamsin likes what she hears and knows just the place to start. “Except it might be a little rough for a delicate flower such as yourself,” she adds, breaking his balls. Dyson laughs, relaxed and happy. This is the other thing his partnership with Tamsin offers—a mate. Someone who’ll call him on his shit without any pesky emotions being involved and just offer to wing man his good time. “But,” she says “the women are hot and the drinks are cold.” “Sounds perfect,” he says in THAT VOICE. “You buyin’?” She snickers. “Only if you’re a good little boy,” she teases and then she narrows her eyes and gets her flirt on. “Are you?”

“No,” he drawls, holding her gaze. “I’m a very, very bad wolf,” and adds a taunting eyebrow waggle. OH YES YOU ARE!!  Tamsin tilts her head closer. “Good answer,” she gibes back and there’s a lot of heat between them. I’m pretty sure they’ll bang eventually, which I don’t like if for nothing else then I hate the trope of partners being sexual with each other. But more because I prefer them this way, busting on one another, hitting a buddy vibe that Dyson needs to have with someone and with Hale off being The Ash…sex with Tamsin would screw (heh) up that vibe and not for the better. But the show is so desperate to set him up with someone else to leave a unobstructed playing field for doccubus that I think the banging thing is inevitable. Tamsin pops up from her chair “Let’s go!” and, with one more contemplative stare, Dyson finishes off his drink and heads on off after her. Big bad wolf is gettin’ laid tonight! Ya know what? I really wanna see what happens next.

Kenzi power walks her way up to the closed door of Siren’s Speakeasy (drink!), where now there is also a burly guard whose large arm immediately blocks her way. Stunned that anyone would try, Kenzi stops in her tracks and attempts to explain to the behemoth Fae that she’s got an all access pass. “You must be new here,” she says with a laugh and introduces herself to the unimpressed guard as “Kenzi, stylist extraordinaire AND besties with The Ash.” Thinking this is enough, she again attempts entrance and again her way is blocked. “Dude!” she says, getting pissed. “Stop Ash blocking the Kenz.” Heh.

Before she can do anything else, the door opens to allow a serving wench to exit bearing a tea-laden tray. Kenzi looks into Siren’s Speakeasy (drink!) over the guard’s shoulder. Hale sits at the table, siren smile in full view, sans hat and (heh) tricked-out in a formal, beautifully blue suit. Ambassador Brynhildr sits across from him. He peers past his honored guest to see Kenzi hovering in the doorway, access denied. She smiles and waves, “hey!’ she whispers and when the guard’s arm blocks her again, she points to him all can you believe this crazy? Hale’s smile falls as he stares across the room at her and Kenzi’s follows suit. Hale holds the moment and then looks at the guard and jerks his head, indicating he should close the door and keep Kenzi out. Shocked, Kenzi’s face falls. She calls out to him with increasing desperation while Hale ignores her as the guard closes the door in her face. “Hale! Hale please! I need to talk to you! It’s serious! Some shit got spilled on me!”

Unfortunately, Bo’s back at Doctor Lauren’s flat. Nifty. She sits on a kitchen stool, broadcasting guilt as Doctor Lauren brings over a pair of filled wine glasses. “Dyson should come see me as soon as he can,” she says to Bo.” I want to make sure the Raksasha’s wound heals properly,” Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. She’d likely grill him again while he’s under her care as to his latest interaction with Bo. Bo quietly says there’s no need as the doc sits across from her and fondles her knee. “All better now,” Bo says softly. She would know considering she healed him and vice versa. Clueless, the doc natters on about how there’s only a few things that can heal a Raksasha’s wound and Bo just looks at her, letting the doc get to the natural conclusion all on her own. Doctor Lauren’s smile fades as she studies Bo’s face and realizes the truth. Bo apologizes profusely. “I was bleeding internally,” she explains.

“Wow,” the doc says, brow furrowing as she sets her wine glass down with the hard snap.  Yes doc, that’s what it feels like. “And here I just thought you were playing at being a doctor.” When the emotions take over, the true waspish Doctor Lauren comes out. Bo goes on to say that she wasn’t healing, “and he was there. And there were no feelings,” she hastily adds getting increasingly emotional and she reaches for the doc’s hand but Doctor Lauren jerks away, “for anyone. And I regretted it immediately,” and here, as before with Dyson, her gaze drops away from Doctor Lauren’s as she tells this lie, “and I should’ve come and talk to you and please say something!” As Bo rambles on, the doc does a slow descendent through various emotional reactions and Zoie Palmer’s expression hits every one of those steps downward. She looks at Bo with her standard look of strained desperation, a look that especially tends to show up whenever Bo has anything intimate to do with Dyson, emotionally or physically. She cups Bo’s face and kisses her then sits back on the stool, smiling but still crying.

“If this is you angry, then I need to tell you about the time I borrowed your favorite pair of earrings and then lost one of them,” Bo jokes. Doctor Lauren exhales hard and breathes heavily, her eyes reddening with tears. “I love you,” she says fiercely. Bo smiles. “I love you too,” she returns.  Teary, Doctor Lauren admits that being a doctor, she's better placed than most to know that she’s not enough for Bo. “Oh don’t say that,” Bo entreats, though not discounting that it’s true. Doctor Lauren repeats Dyson’s point that Bo is a succubus, “and we both tried to pretend that it wouldn’t be an issue, but it is.” She goes on to say that for some reason the shots aren’t working anymore and—hey, wait a minute. Since when are you still giving her shots? Because that plot thread fell off the loom long time ago, like pre-Dyson lost love long ago. I can’t remember a single season two mention of Bo still getting shots from the doc. But, whatever.

She rambles to a stop and Bo tentatively asks, “So?” Doctor Lauren struggles for control. “So? You have to start feeding…off others,” she admits, absolutely miserable at the idea but willing to do whatever it takes to keep Bo for however long she can manage. Bo wants to be sure they both completely understand what’s being decided here. “And you’re okay with that?” Doctor Lauren is openly sobbing and visibly miserable, so no, she’s definitely not okay with that. She shrugs, nods, shrugs again, and finally just laughs totally without humor, unable to believe that she has to agree with this and yet she knows she has no other choice. “I have to be,” she finally manages. To her credit, going by the expression on Bo’s face, she really wishes she didn’t have to ask.

“But,” the doc caveats as she gains some self-control. “I think that we should make some ground rules.” Bo is so relieved she immediately agrees to “anything.” “For starters,” the doc says and steels herself for the next bit. She stares hard at Bo to be sure she gets her point across—this is a deal breaker. “No Dyson,” she says in a hard and unforgiving voice. I don’t blame her for this. I wouldn’t give my lover carte blanche to hook up with her ex for any reason either, especially not one with whom said lover had such natural, unbridled chemistry regardless of their relationship status.

 And Doctor Lauren has always felt threatened by Dyson with regard to Bo; she goes after him every chance she gets because of it. She should feel threatened by him. Just last episode, Bo proved how, when all internal impediments and objections are stripped away, her raw, emotional response is to head right back to Dyson. In S2E1, the doc had three exclusive weeks with a Dyson-free Bo, and that was post facto their supposedly all-important-parting-kiss in S1E13 that went absolutely nowhere. Yet, the moment Dyson returns and they’re all in The Dal (drink!) in that episode, Bo is all about the wolf. She reaches for his hand as the doc watches and you can see on Doctor Lauren’s face that she’s crushed and yet resigned because she knew she was on borrowed time. The second he came back and was available to Bo again, the doc became second tier in her affections (third if including Kenzi). She knows there’s every chance of that happening again. Not that Bo doesn’t love her; she does and deeply. But that what Bo shares with Dyson goes beyond a mere romantic love relationship and is something even the doc knows she cannot compete against. I do not think Bo is going to go running back to Dyson the moment she learns he’s got his love back (if that indeed ever happens); I wouldn’t respect her if she did much as I don’t respect her now for being in a relationship with someone so prone to betrayal. I do think it massively changes the board for her and I think Doctor Lauren understands this aspect of Bo’s feelings better than anyone. She’s not above doing whatever she can to get the upper hand in that arrangement, despite the belief that Dyson remains without love for Bo, even if it means denying Bo her best and safest source for healing.

Which is what makes this ultimatum an utterly selfish demand, one that  supersedes merely not wanting your lover to bump uglies with her ex. Doctor Lauren is instead demanding that, at worst, Bo essentially troll for victims donors—human or Fae—in order to soothe the doc’s own wounded pride that she can’t fulfill Bo’s needs alone and, at best, that Bo start sexualizing her inner circle when a feeling-free (as they both profess to believe him to be) Dyson would be a perfect solution; he doesn’t die and he (supposedly) doesn’t care. This is because the doc knows that it’s Bo who is not without feelings for Dyson. The last thing she wants is for those feelings to gain any traction, regardless of whether Bo would act on them, by letting (and there’s a whole “allowing” thing here I’m not even touching on) Bo to have healing sexual relations with him. For Bo, sex with Dyson has never only been about the healing, and, with the exception of his lost love, it has always meant much more to Dyson too, whether either of them consciously realized it in those early days or not. Among the three of them, Doctor Lauren—the observer, the scientist, the clinician—is the only one who has understood this about them from the beginning.

So I geddit, but it’s still a crap demand and, above anything else, ultimately shows how insecure Doctor Lauren is about her relationship to Bo. Bo, however, is too relieved to be in tandem with Doctor Lauren again to fully think about what she’s agreeing to—and in this confessional moment, probably wouldn’t care. She leans forward and clasps Doctor Lauren’s neck. “I promise,” she says, and, for the moment, she means it. They kiss again as the music swells and then they pull back to clasp hands. “I promise,” Bo repeats. Anvil! The doc’s mouth curves up, but it’s a sad smile and what little of her face is visible, doesn’t make her look too confident in Bo’s promise, but maybe that’s just her hurt at having to agree to share her.

Cut to Kenzi walking down the alley outside The Dal (drink!) frantically pressing numbers on her phone. She leaves a message for Bo to call her back, “like ASAP. I’m just—I’m really freaking out. Okay?” She’s actually trembling as she puts the phone away. I can only suppose she hasn’t called Dyson yet because she doesn’t want him to know what she’s risked on his behalf. He is not going to be happy when he finds out. “Okay, okay,” she mutters to herself as she pulls up her sleeve and very carefully peels back the bandage covering the rash she got from the noxious substance in The Norn’s (freaking Norn!) Cabinet of Woe, except it’s not a rash any more but a freaking oozing wound that’s eating away the flesh on her arm. “What are you?!” she wonders in a whisper, horrified.  “And why won’t you go away?” she mutters more forcefully.

She covers her arm back up, breathes deeply, and walks on but immediately trips and falls face-first on the ground. Before she can do more than think what the –Kenzi is yanked away into the darkness.

End Credits.

Fae of the Day:

Ixtab: Also known as Rope Woman, Ixtab was the Mayan goddess of suicide where suicide, especially by hanging, considered an honorable way to die.The  Ixtab would accompany such suicides to paradise. (hat tip to Lost Girl wiki for the intel)

Origin: Mayan

Raksasha: An illusionist and shape-shifter Fae, in its true form, a Raksasha  takes the form of a large rat-like creature with sharp claws and teeth. It feeds off raised-adrenaline levels in its victims’ blood by first hypnotizing them to fulfill childhood dreams and thus spurring its victims into an ecstatic state.

Origin: Indonesian with roots in Hindu and Buddhism.

Quotes of the Night:

Kenzi: Ah, wonder snatch?! Hi! Have we met?

Dyson: What happened to your date with Mister 8-pack? Tamsin: Hmm, girl only needs 10 minutes. Dyson: That’s way too much information.

Hale: Whatdya have to unload out of your butt?

Hale: Honey, Black Platinum ain’t got nothin’ on that.

Tamsin: It’s like Occam’s beard-trimmer. Dyson: Razor. Tamsin: Whatever.

Kenzi: If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Tim Gunn, it’s that it’s always the time for fashion.

Bo: Your kryptonite is kitty litter?!

Tamsin: So Dyson’s out there with a monster on his tail and all we’ve got to go on is Doctor Dipshit.

Tamsin: OK, I’m warning you! Do not unwrap the wang!

Tamsin: You talk Manimal down over here and I’ll go after the Raksasha.

Tamsin: You’ve got your work cut out for you because this one wants to be half lion, half eagle, and full asshole.

Bo: You are strong and magnificent.  You are a wolf. Loved by so many people!

Dyson: I’m a very, very bad wolf.

Kenzi: Stop Ash blocking the Kenz!

Next week: Eyes Faed Shut

Kiersten Hallie Krum writes smart, sharp & sexy romantic suspense. Find her snarking her way across social media as @kierstenkrum and on her web site and blog at www.kierstenkrum.com.