However, we shouldn't be focused on all that, because Dean's just now brought his full bottle of soothing El Sol to his plump and pouty lips...only to discover that the damn thing's empty! D'OH! Or maybe that's a DUN! Given the fact that next week's episode involves something called "The God Of Time," I should probably go with DUN!, there, yes? "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Yeah, you're right: Whatever.
Cut to the façade of Stately Clarke Manor, whose "FURNISHED APARTMENTS" are available on a month-to-month basis, if that sign out front is anything to go by. Inside, Darling Sammy raps on one of the apartment doors, which is presently answered by Ian Tracey's supremely suspicious adolescent daughter, "Chrissy," and don't ask me how Darling Sammy managed to track her down to this bit of temporary housing, because I don't know. Nor do I care, actually, so let's keep this moving, shall we? Long story short, Sam admits that Dead Bobby is, indeed, deceased, and he learns that Chrissy's supposed salesman father has gone missing in Dodge City, Kansas. After sending Chrissy to the kitchen to fix him some coffee, Sam snoops around Ian Tracey's spartan bedroom until he stumbles across the missing gentleman's secret stash of research in the closet. Said secret stash consists of a Magical Mystery Board papered over with missing persons reports detailing the sudden disappearances of a number of truckers in the Dodge City area along with a handful of news articles recording a rash of animal attacks in Ford County, so Sam heads back into the temporary rental proper to announce that he's pretty sure he knows where to begin his search for Chrissy's father. He asks, and receives permission, to "borrow" a photograph of Ian and Chrissy in happier times, then leaves Chrissy a number to call should she not hear from him over the next couple of days. And...that's about it, really. Wow, this episode is dull.
Meanwhile, Dreary El Deano's steering some crapped-out Buick into the driveway of Lunatic Jackass Estates, because I guess they still can't drive the Impala for whatever stupid reason. Dean disembarks and enters the house to find it apparently abandoned, with nothing but blank walls where Frank Devereaux's elaborate collection of electronic equipment should be. "This can't be good," Dean grumbles to himself, and barely have those words issued forth from his mouth when Frank Devereaux himself pops up behind Our Intrepid Hero to level the business end of his cunning little semiautomatic at Dean's pretty, pretty head. "Well, hello to you, too!" Dean more or less says. The paranoid psychotic with the semiautomatic chooses not to lower his weapon. "We're amongst friends, here," Dean begins, but Frank Devereaux's not having it. At all. "That's just what a Leviathan would say!" the bespectacled bit of batshit sneers by way of response, and with that, we head into this evening's first commercial break most woefully CHOMP!-less, because that's how much tonight's episode sucks.