And as Raoul hastens back into the living room from his den with his flagons rattling violently about in that cunning little cocktail cart of his, Ellen continues, "My God! I've been gone a week, and this place goes completely to hell." "WE LOVE YOU, ELLEN! EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Raoul! Volume! "Oh, I do apologize, I'm sure, but I simply can't help myself! She's fabulous! EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Dude, you're all pie-eyed, and you've yet to have so much as a sip of your cocktail. EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" That's fine -- you go ahead and squeal yourself hoarse while I get through the rest of this scene, all right? "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" All right.
So, Ellen crosses to the kitchen counter to unload a bagful of groceries, and during the easygoing banter that follows, it becomes clear that, in whatever bizarre version of Supernatural we've found ourselves for this evening's festivities, these two are married. Which always made a certain kind of sense, really, even if Bobby is far too old for her. Yeah, I said it. In any event, Ellen casually mentions that she's been hunting with Jo, so we know both of The Harvelle Girls are somehow still walking the earth, and after she commiserates briefly with Sad Bobby over Dead Rufus's untimely demise, she shoos him off to wash up so she can fix dinner. "Anybody ever tell you you're a pain in the ass?" Bobby gruffly teases her. Ellen plants a sloppy wet one on his beard and slaps him on the ass, smiling, "Go!" Aw. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" That, too.
Meanwhile, over in the suburbs of Philadelphia, Our Intrepid Heroes are already performing a little flashlight-fu in Our Dead Guest's garage, because Chester, Pennsylvania, is apparently a mere fifteen minutes away from the lush coastal rainforests of southeastern South Dakota. Dean whips out his trusty little EMF reader, but there's nary a satisfying VWEE-YORP! to be had in the place, so vengeful spirits clearly aren't responsible for this evening's wacky hijinks. Over by the freshly scrubbed garage door, however, Eagle-Eyed Sammy spots something of significance: A thin strand of braided gold. Actual, honest-to-God gold, as he discovers when he brushes it up against a handy terracotta flowerpot, leading him to wonder, "Why would a handyman have gold just lying around in his garage?" "There's definitely a skeleton in this family's closet," Dean frowns, going on to reason, "I mean, accidents don't just happen accidentally!" Sam shoots him A Look. "You know what I mean!" Dim Dean exasperates. Sam lightly rolls his eyes around for a moment before arriving at the following plan: He'll research whatever family records he can get his hands on while Dean interviews the next of kin. Got all that? "I do! [Slurp!]" Excellent.