Crackle, Crackle THEN! Jo Harvelle threw the fact that Daddy Shut Up botched a hunt and got her own daddy killed right into Dean's face, Angry Sam and his Angrily Insane Coif speculated that The Ceiling Demon might be slowly driving all of the super-special mommy-free and -having kiddies insane, Short-Lip Meg was a human possessed by a demon that got itself caught in Bobby's intricate Key Of Solomon devil's trap, Shut Up Daddy imparted A Secret Of Absolutely No Importance Whatsoever into El Deano's ear right before kicking the bucket, and El Deano finally spilled the details of The Secret Of Absolutely No Importance Whatsoever to Angry Sam and his Somewhat Less Angrily Insane Coif on the banks of a ridiculously scenic lake.
Crackle, Crackle NOW! A shaky, hand-held camera pans down from the underside of a highway overpass as steady rain pours from the sky. It eventually jerks its way over to Dean, who's slouched against the Impala's side while delivering his side of the urgent conversation he's conducting with the fabulous Ellen Harvelle via his cell. They get all tricky with the sound and image editing, overlaying parts of Dean's lines upon shots where he's got his mouth shut and such to throw all of us as far off balance as he is himself. Sam's missing, you see, and Dean's "called him a thousand times," only to have each of those calls fall into voice mail. The rain continues to beat down as Dean complains, "This is like looking for my dad all over again!" "I don't know where he went, or why," Dean continues. "Sam's just gone!" Just then, the call waiting boops, so Dean puts Ellen on hold to check his Verizon LG Chocolate Clamshell VX8600's display, where he finds Sam's number -- (785) 555-2804, and yes, it's fake, even though the area code does cover Lawrence, Kansas -- so he switches over to find an apparently distressed Sammy on the other end. Dean's all, "Don't move -- I'm on my way!" and in a series of jumpy cuts, he hops into the Impala and tears off.
The screen flares white for a moment before flashing over to Sam, who's just now switching off his phone and placing it on the dresser of some anonymous motel room somewhere else. The camera slides down from his reflection in the dresser's mirror to land on his actual hand, the knuckles of which are covered with luridly red bruises.