Town to town, two-lane roads -- Family biz: Two hunting bros!
Living the lie, just to get by-y-y-y-y!
As long as we're movin' forward,
There's nothing we can't do!
Together, we'll fa-a-a-a-ace the day!
(Face the da-a-a-a-ay!)
You and I won't run awa-a-a-a-ay!
When demons come out to pla-a-a-a-ay,
Together we'll face the day!

It's gruesome, isn't it? "Indeed!" And while that hideousness is wailing away on the soundtrack, we're treated to an appropriately awful montage of Sitcom Sam and Sitcom Dean engaging in wacky hijinks as they accidentally back into each other whilst performing a bit of Tough Guy Jazz Hands flashlight-fu, followed by Sitcom Sam reacting with sitcom terror when he finds a sheet-wearing "ghost" in a closet, after which Sitcom Dean "comically" smears motor oil all over his face. There's a shot of the two of them giggling on a tandem bicycle that's awfully reminiscent of Laverne And Shirley before Sitcom Sam and Sitcom Dean chase each other through a brilliantly sunlit city park on motor scooters (and no matter how long I live, I will never understand how Jared Padalecki managed to balance all fifteen feet of his squashed-up self on that tiny little mini Vespa), after which they toss around a football until the sequence ends with them back in their nightmarishly overbright and impeccably spotless motel room, toasting each other with beers over a pair of especially delicious-looking bacon double cheeseburgers before turning in unison towards the camera with disturbingly broad grins on their faces as The Kripkeeper's name appears in Full House font at the bottom of the screen. Hateful. "I'm terrified!" As well you should be, my scaly friend. As well you should be.

A gently strumming alterna-ovary whispers nonsensical crap about bending spoons with her mind, or some such bullshit, as a traditional Supernatural location card emerges from the blackness that follows to let us know we've landed in Wellington, Ohio, "Two Days Earlier." At first, the location card appears to be yet another LYING LIAR WHO LIES on this show, for the camera initially fades up in the middle of "Seattle Mercy Hospital," where it lingers as we watch some greasy-haired bohunk of a doctor in cowboy boots enter an elevator with a fetchingly frazzled-looking nurse, who promptly maul each other the instant the elevator doors have closed. No sooner have they started humping against each other when the camera somehow magically extracts itself from the action inside this week's motel room's television set to pan across the room to one of the beds, where we find a rather dapper-looking Dashing El Deano slackjawed in concentration, completely mesmerized by the Grey's knock-off now unfolding just out of our view. "What are you watching?" Darling Sammy sneers, having emerged from the bathroom still fastening his cuffs, as Our Intrepid Heroes are apparently on the verge of masquerading yet again as FBI agents. Dean, busted, identifies the show as Dr. Sexy, MD, a weekly drama apparently based on a book. "When did you hit menopause?" Sam snarks, smirking as he crosses to fetch his jacket from the room's other twin. Dean protests that he was merely channel surfing, but we know his soap opera-loving ass is LYING, and besides, I should probably note at this point that the motel room's decor precisely matches the sitcom set we saw earlier, though this version of the place is considerably dingier, with the wallpaper having faded years ago and the now-filthy white paint peeling off the furniture and wainscoting. Bravo to the design crew. In any event, Dean snaps off the TV, snatches up his keys, and the next thing we know...