Any-way, by the time the camera finishes slobbering all over Jessica's tits and finally moves up to her face, she's assumed this "I can't believe this scumbag is related to my boyfriend" expression, though there's enough of a sparkle of amusement in her eyes to make me dread the moment she becomes one of the points in a brother-against-brother love triangle on this show. This series may be an attempt to pull in more male viewers for the WB, but it's still on the WB, so come on. You know it's going to happen. And if that's the case -- if Jessica's fated to become another goddamned Joey Potter or another goddamned Amy Abbott or another goddamned Felicity Porter or another goddamned Rory Gilmore or another goddamned Peyton Sawyer or even, God forbid, another goddamned second-season Piper Halliwell -- then she can just drop fucking dead right now. Unfortunately, Jessica pays me no mind and remains vital and vaguely charmed as Dean approaches to flirt, "I gotta tell ya, you are completely out of my brother's league." Jessica attempts to excuse herself to "put something on," but Dean stops her with, "No, no, no! I wouldn't dream of it." He takes a moment before adding, "Seriously." Jessica shoots Sam A Look as Dean backs away to apologize for dragging her boyfriend away to "discuss some private family business." Sam, annoyed, side-eyes both girlfriend and brother before darting over to the former's side, slinging a possessive arm around her waist, and declaring, "Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her." "Okay, um," Dean begins. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days." Jessica and her Smurfs glance up warily at the boyfriend for a moment before Sam snides, "So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift -- he'll stumble back in sooner or later." Dean nods his head around, examines his shoes, and lifts his eyes to enunciate carefully, "Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days." The camera slides up to Sam's suddenly stony expression as the soundtrack belches an ominous "waaahn-waaaaaaaahn" and Sam bites, "Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside..."
...where Sam and Dean meet up with the Exposition Fairy as they clatter down the apartment's wooden steps to Dean's hand-me-down 1967 Chevy Impala in the alleyway below, and thank God for the Exposition Fairy, leaden-footed and poorly spoken though he may be, because I'm only eight and a half minutes into this goddamned thing, and I certainly could use a little help, here. As the dear Exposition Fairy whacks each of the boys repeatedly with his anvil-tipped wand, Sam angrily insists that Dean can't just barge into Sam's apartment in the middle of the night and expect Sam to drop everything for a road trip -- after all, Dad went missing for a bit while chasing after the poltergeist in Amherst and the Devil's Gate in Clifton, and he ended up fine, right? Dean pleads to Sam's sense of filial loyalty, or some such crap, but Sam's having none of it. He gave up "hunting" a long time ago, and he has no intention of picking up that particular bad habit again. During the pedebabbling that follows, we learn that, when Sam told dear old Dad he was afraid of the thing in his closet, Dear Old Dad quite seriously handed the nine-year-old a .45. We also learn that Dear Old Dad led Sonny Boys on a decades-long hunt for the entity that slaughtered their mother, but they've yet to find it. In the meantime, Dad and The Boys took out every supernatural entity they did stumble upon and blah blah Sam wants a normal life and wah wah Dean thinks Sam's a deluded pussy and blee wah Sam feels abandoned by Dear Old Dad and ohmyGodshutup! Dean can't do this alone and you darling young men can get to the fucking point any time you like, okay? Sam heaves a tremendously put-upon sigh and asks for the bullet on their father's current situation. Dean flips open the Impala's trunk and lifts the not-terribly-well-concealed false floor -- seriously, Deano's not even trying with the stealth, here -- to reveal a stunning array of implements of destruction as Dean rummages around for the relevant information. Like he wouldn't have had the dossier up in the goddamned front seat. Whatever. While rooting around in the trunk, Dean admits that Dear Old Dad was flying solo because Dean himself was away dealing with "this voodoo thing down in New Orleans." Erm. Awkward. But hey, according to Our Dear Leader, no one could have foreseen those levees breaking, right?