Out on the street, that red-hatted bum chases Dean into a dank and forbidding alleyway filled with Convenient Shipping Pallets Of Grave Bodily Injury, and after a lengthy and grindingly boring game of cat-and-mouse, Dean ducks around a corner, waits for the red-hatted bum to catch up with him, and proceeds to knock the living crap out of the guy once he does. Of course, there's a problem with all of this, and I'm not talking about how Dean keeps shouting, "Whaddya want, ya little fairy?" while beating a guy with his fists, though there is that to consider. No, I'm talking of course about the fact that the red-hatted bum somehow managed to trade places with a little person of the human variety, so Dean's now slapping the snot out of a midget. A midget who just happens to be the state's attorney for Tipton County. D'OH! Sam and Brennan emerge from the bar just in time to watch helplessly as the local sheriff slings the handcuffed Dean into the back of a prowler, and did I forget to mention that Dean's screaming "Fight the fairies!" while all that's going on? Too bad.
Jail. The sheriff tries and fails to figure out exactly what sort of hate crime Dean just committed, then leaves Our Apparently Homophobic Hero alone in his cell to stew.
Back at the watch factory, Sam and Brennan enter to find the four worker fairies bombed out of their wee tiny gourds on all of that fresh cream, which evidently "hits them like tequila." Brennan and Sam tiptoe past the zonked-out gremlins, retrieve Granny's grimoire from the safe, and flip the book open to the appropriate reversal spell, which Brennan promptly begins to recite. Of course, barely has he made it through two or three lines of the thing when the leprechaun materializes to stab him in the back and -- surprise, surprise -- it's Robert Picardo. "Sorry about the mess," he lightly apologizes, offering Brennan's rapidly cooling corpse the briefest of dismissive glances as he does so, "but your friend, here, went back on his deal." Sam acidly notes that Robert Picardo wasn't terribly clear with the late, unlamented Mr. Brennan on the terms of that deal, but Robert Picardo acidly notes in return that Brennan did in fact receive fair warning, and are these two ever going to get to the goddamned point? No? Then I'll get to it for them: As you've likely figured out long before now, Robert Picardo and his merry band of elves travel from town to town, snatching up as many first-born sons as they can while hiding behind that rather ludicrous alien abduction cover story. Sam threatens to expose them, but Robert Picardo wisely treats that threat as the meaningless bluff it truly is, and instead counters with an offer tailor-made for Sam: For a price, he'll retrieve Sam's soul from The Cage. "There's no freaking way a leprechaun can do what angels cannot," Sam scoffs, but Robert Picardo assures him that the sort of "real" fairy magic he possesses allows him to go where angels fear to tread, and have I honestly been reduced to typing out crap about "real" fairy magic again? Really? Really? "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" I think Raoul wants me to hurry this up. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Okay! Fine!