Shortly thereafter, the five survivors gather on the sidewalk to bid farewell to two of their number. Duane notes he and Mark are "heading south" to get away from this godforsaken burg, and he invites Doctor Lee to join them. She smiles and affably declines the offer, insisting she'll be headed over to Sidewinder to enlist, at long last, the aid of the proper authorities. "If they'll believe me," she adds, shaking her head a bit at the prospect. As Duane and Mark climb into the latter's truck, Dean seeks assurance from the doctor that Sam is, indeed, okay. She gives him the assurance he craves and, looking strangely none the worse for the wear after her recent ordeal, rather brightly turns to reenter her corpse-littered clinic. Hmmmmm. "Oh, absolutely," Raoul nods. "She's in on it, too." Raoul, shut up! We haven't hit The Twist yet! "Ooops! Okay, I promise to keep my maw shut. Well, until the very end, of course, when I'll be joining everyone else with the screaming and flailing and rending of clothing and whatnot." Raoul, you have no clothing to...you know what? Forget about it. Let's just get through the remaining five minutes with our tattered sanity intact, shall we?
Dean glares at Sam. "Don't look at me!" Sammy protests. "I got no clue." "I swear I'm gonna lose sleep over this one," Dean admits after a beat. "I mean, why here? Why now? Where the hell did everybody go? It's not just like they friggin' melted!" Sam processes that for a moment before adding in a soft, self-critical, and vaguely despairing voice, "And why was I immune?" "That's a good question!" Dean asserts, getting all aggressive with his index finger and the vehement pointing and such. "I'm already starting to feel like this is the one that got away," he growls, finally crossing behind Sam to slam his way into the Impala. Sam looks conflicted for a moment before joining his brother, and Metallicar grumbles away.
Somewhere south of River Grove, Duane asks Mark to pull over to the side of the road. Mark, clearly thinking Duane needs to take care of a little personal business, complies, and seems more than a little put out when Duane reveals, "I gotta make a call." Mark rolls his eyes and snorts, "No phone out here." "I got it covered," Duane assures his companion, rooting around in his knapsack for...a tiny dagger he slices through Mark's jugular vein! And oh, man! I completely forgot how totally gross this was. "Hooray!" Raoul enthuses. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" As the mortally wounded Mark thrashes about, choking on, like, his own severed tongue, or some damn thing, Duane thrusts a silver chalice beneath the gout of blood spurting from the hole in the guy's throat to collect a cupful of fresh good stuff from poor, dying Mark. And I believe you already know the drill from here: Duane dips his fingers into the thing to activate some kind of whirlpool through which he communicates with Daddy Demonic, or whomever. "It's over," Duane tells Whomever. "You'll be pleased -- I don't think any more tests are necessary." After a pause during which he receives some message, Duane replies, "The Winchester boy -- definitely immune, as you expected." Pause. "Yes, of course." This with a leering smirk. "Nothing left behind," he assures Whomever, and here he turns to face the now-dead Mark, his eyes flipping beetle-black as he does so. And unless there was some massive script error during the production of this episode, he also just confirmed that the good Doctor Lee was in on the entire experiment as well. Which, you know, would go a very long way towards excusing her pitifully sloppy explanations of the contagion's attributes, but there's still the tiny little matter of OUR INTREPID HEROES' RAMPANT STUPIDITY THIS EVENING WITH REGARD TO SAME. GOD!