Sam sits down next to Layla, but Gus interrupts by calling out that he wants some orange juice. Sam thinks he's annoying and callous, so she angrily yanks the curtain around Layla's bed. Poor Gus. He doesn't know. Cut to Layla asking gingerly if she can still have sex. "Not for a few weeks," Sam says. Layla's face falls. Sam shrugs that she should just tell her boyfriend -- "Fiancé," Layla corrects primly -- that he needs to chill out a little: "If he really loves you, he'll understand." "Dean loves me," Layla says, chanting it with a Scientologist's glow emanating from her eyes: creepy and a little brainwashed. Sam lightly suggests that it's possible to love someone and not realize you're physically hurting them. And it is, if you are insane, or a total assplug. "He doesn't mean to hurt me," insists Layla. Sam blinks. "But does he?" she says evenly. "Did he last night?" Layla coughs that she doesn't know, and confesses with a painfully earnest smile that they went on a drive with his friends last night, and that Dean lets his friends watch them have sex because he likes to show off how sexy she is. Initially I wrote that as, "Dean just likes show off how sexy he is," and although it's not what she said, it's probably also correct. Sam successfully keeps down her lunch as she tightly asks what that means. Sam's nostrils flare as she tries to calm her rising fury. Abby calls her into Trauma Yellow, so Sam promises Layla that they'll sort all this out, and reluctantly gets up to return to the land of faint hope.

Abby quietly tells Sam that no one can locate Kathy's girl, and that the husband is basically on his way to the farm where all husbands can run free and enjoy the outdoors and play with other husbands just like them. Ethan's continuing his slow descent into Holy Crap. Suddenly, Miguel shows up, banging on the door and screaming at Abby. He bursts in and demands his pain pills, and he won't go away, despite the fact that someone's dying in front of him. Abby muscles him out of there just as Sam expresses the total futility of trying to save Ethan.

Carter emerges from the bathroom, having washed off the post-coital funk in which Kem is still basking. He climbs into bed, and The Honey-nooners snuggle smugly, because nothing is more romantic than showing your hometown to your girlfriend by taking her to a hotel room that's either totally foreign and impersonal to you, or which is personal to you because you've also erected your mini Sears Tower there with a bunch of other girlfriends. Ah, memories. They talk about how healthy and cute and talented the Cartus is going to be, because they're awfully proud of themselves. "What frightens me most is, I could get used to all this," Kem says dreamily. Carter rolls onto his back and poor-little-rich-boys that he won't be renting out any ice rinks for his child, because that's what he's run away from his whole life. Except the years he lived with Gamma, but let's not split heirs...er, "hairs."