In any event, once the dripping is done, the camera fades up on the media scrum now tussling with itself outside the dead man's apartment, and it's apparently the morning after the depressingly un-gruesome events of the opening sequence, so it's quite a surprise to see Our Intrepid Heroes rolling up to the curb already decked out in their best FBI drag for the hijinks that are certain to follow, because how in hell did they hear about this goddamned case so fast? Don't bother trying to answer that one, because I really don't care. The never-seen Lucifer whispers a few sweet nothings into Crazy Sam's ear just to remind us of that particular storyline's continuing existence, and then Dean opines that it feels "a little wonky" to be "working a regular job," what with The Leviathans still running rampant across the countryside and all. Sam reminds Dean that dear old reliable Bobby will be sure to contact them should anything interesting pop up on that front, by which he's actually admitting that nothing interesting will be popping up on that front this evening, and then he once again thanks Dean for letting the late, unlamented Amy Pond go. Because, you know, Dean LIED about the events that ended last week's episode, so Sam erroneously believes the late, unlamented Amy Pond still walks among us. Dean takes a careful moment to appear wracked with guilt over this particular deception of his because tonight's script says he must, and then Our Intrepid Idiots duck beneath the police tape to mosey...

...upstairs, where they duck beneath some more police tape to enter Our Dead Pre-Credits Friend's mangled apartment. The lead detective greets them with a jaded-sounding, "Welcome to Crazytown," before dumping a load of exposition upon their carefully coiffed heads. The late occupant of Apartment 1036 was one "Matthew Hammond," and yes, he appears to have been crushed to death by a speeding automobile, despite the apartment's distance from the street below. Sam and Dean poke around for a bit until every last one of the Dearborn Police Department's crime scene investigators conveniently exits the room at the same time, at which point Sam whips out his trusty EMF reader, which obligingly goes "VWEE-YORP!" once or twice, thereby confirming the recent presence of something spectral. The clues the boys find during their subsequent sweep of the apartment include a pile of red dirt ground into the carpet, a ten-year chip from Alcoholics Anonymous, and a series of repeated charges on the dead guy's bank statement from an establishment named "Jane's." "All right!" Sam grins, flipping the chip into Dean's chest. "Congrats on your sobriety -- I'll go find out what 'Jane's' is." Dean begs off on his proposed assignment, claiming, "I gave up AA for Lent." "We're not Catholic," Sam testily reminds him. "AA gives me the jeebs," Dean twitches. "Since fucking when?" I scream at the television set, and neither of them answers me because neither of them ever answers me, and they swap tasks, and then we scoot over to the...