Aftermath. The three disembark from the Impala, with Molly making some more wrecked and wasted noises of disbelief until El Deano purposefully strides around to the trunk and starts pawing through Metallicar's bottomless cache of implements of mass destruction. As Dean expertly loads a sawed-off shotgun, Molly makes to flee, all, "Um, thanks for the offers of help, you fucking serial-killing whackjobs, but I think I've got it covered from here on out." Sam hastens to explain the situation, but because he's trying to ease her into the whole ghost-hunting thing when she's all of two seconds away from screaming off into the night, Dean decides to cut through the crap and level with her. It's a long story that we already know, what with the pretty boys gallivanting about the countryside in their boss car to shoot monsters in the face with rock salt and all that, but at least all you Galactica fans tuning in for the first time now know what's going on. "Not that it's terribly difficult to understand!" Raoul snorts. Raoul! Be polite. We want them to hang around, don't we? "..." Don't we? "Fine! What I meant to say is that Galactica fans, intelligent folk they must be in order to make any sense whatsoever of that impenetrably dense space opera masquerading as entertainment that they're apparently so fond of, wouldn't need our show's premise spelled out for them in so elementary a manner as this! Happy?!" Um. Yes? "Good!" My Lord, but Raoul turns into a big old crankypants when he's denied his gore, doesn't he?
In any event, while Dean turns his back on Molly to continue rattling around Metallicar's bottomless trunk, Sam eases up to her to offer the necessary exposition. "We think his name is Jonah Greeley," he explains, referring to the particular ghost they're hunting this evening. "He was a local farmer that died fifteen years ago on this highway." "Jus-s-st stop!" Molly stammers, shaking her head, still refusing to believe a word of this. "One night a year, on the anniversary of his death," Sam continues over her protests, "he haunts this road. That's why we're here, Molly -- to try to stop him." "And I suppose this...ghost made my car disappear, too?" Molly challenges, barely able to spit out the appropriate words, so ludicrous to her are they. "Crazier things have happened," Dean affably shrugs as he hustles on over to biff Sam in the latter's remarkably broad chest before Captain Empathy might reveal something both of them might later wish he wouldn't. "You know what?" Molly shudders, backing away from them. "I'm all filled up on crazy. I'm gonna get the cops myself." With that, she turns to head off down the road, abruptly halting when Dean's voice calls out behind her, "I don't mean to be harsh, but I don't think you're gonna get too far." "Plan A was trying to get you out of here," Dean explains. "Obviously, that didn't go over too well with Farmer Roadkill." Molly turns slowly to face them again, blinking bleakly, and I have to admit, Tricia Helfer has that bleak blinking thing down. "Molly, we're telling the truth," Sam insists, begging her to believe them. "Greeley's not gonna let you leave this highway." "You're serious, aren't you?" she shudders. Sam hesitates, wondering if he should admit to anything more just yet, then decides she's ready to handle it and reveals, "Every year, Greeley finds someone to punish for what happened to him. Tonight, that person is you." "Why me?" she moans, beginning to cry. "I didn't do anything!" Sam takes this in, and with a gentle sort of smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he replies, "Doesn't matter. Some spirits only see what they want." Molly suddenly understands that if all this is true, then Grisly Greeley must be holding her dear husband captive somewhere. Neither of Our Dear Boys addresses that issue, with Dean choosing to remain silent while Sam promises, "We're going to help, all right? But first you gotta help us." Molly's all, "Let's get to it, then."