...a mildly amusing nighttime scene in which Cracky El Crackhead's rapidly losing what's left of his scattered little mind thanks to forty-eight straight hours of unhindered caffeination. Well, it is fitting in nicely with the entire drug theme this episode has going, isn't it? Don't answer that. In any event, Sam offers to drive the Impala for a bit, but El Cracky's all snappish and surly, so Darling (And Well-Rested!) Sammy slinks back further into his corner of the front seat all, "Oooo-kay, freak," while El Crackhead takes a call from Bobby, who's handling the sleep deprivation rather well by contrast. Unfortunately, he's also elicited Posh Bela's ghost-whispering assistance in locating Batshit Jeremy, so we'll be skipping through all of this save to note that the spirit world apparently hates Posh Bela as much as the rest of us do and is thus refusing to speak to her and that Bobby clearly hasn't a clue what Posh Bela's talking about when she insists that she's simply repaying him for Flagstaff. D'OH!

Impala. El Cracky finally swings Metallicar over into a clearing at the side of the road, shuts off the engine, and settles back to take a much-needed nap. Well-Rested Sammy's incredulous, for doing so would only allow Batshit Jeremy access into El Deano's brain. "That's the idea!" Dean snaps. "We can't find him, so let him come to me!" Sam's not having it, because Batshit Jeremy's "like a god" when he enters others' dreams, and the whole stupid idea's just too goddamned dangerous. Dean snarls that he's going through with it anyway, leaving Sam no other option than to pluck a couple of heavily gelled hairs from Dean's coif and snit, "Not alone, you're not." "I don't want you digging around in my head!" Dean protests. Sam straps on his prim little bitchface and retorts, "Too bad." Hee. I love Sam's prim little bitchface.

Some time later -- after Sam's had enough time to forage for fresh water, retrieve their handy travel coffee maker from the Impala's bottomless trunk, plug the thing into the car's cigarette lighter, and brew himself up a fine cup o' crap way out in the middle of nowhere, apparently -- Sam awakens in the car, then smacks his brother awake as well. "What are we still doing here?" Dean wonders, a bit woozily. Sam hasn't a clue, but he does hear forest noises emanating from a nearby copse of trees, so Our Intrepid Heroes disembark to investigate. And just as an echoey, ethereal version of Mama Cass singing this episode's title tune hits the soundtrack, the lights rise on a patch of grass to reveal Incredibly Bendy Lisa atop a blanket, an open picnic basket at her side. "You gonna sit down?" she asks, grabbing him a glass of red wine. "Come on," she continues invitingly, "we only have an hour before we have to pick Ben up from baseball." Dean clearly would very much like to join her on that blanket (and in that world she's promising, natch) when he suddenly remembers that Sam's witnessing all of this, so he bluffs -- badly, and stammering, and never taking his eyes off the vision in front of him -- "I've never had this dream before." "Stop looking at me like that!" he demands, feeling Sam's stare boring into the back of his head. Sam gulps and offers a guilty-sounding "Sorry" before receding into the background again so Incredibly Bendy Lisa might profess her undying love. Just as Mama Cass is about to launch herself upwards into "Stars fading, but I linger on, dear," both the music and the pleasant little reverie it'd been accompanying buzz and blink and flicker out. "Where'd she go?" Dean blurts, just as Sam spots Batshit Jeremy lurking in the woods behind them. Jeremy takes off with Sam and Dean hot on his heels until Dean, lagging a bit behind because of those stumpy little bowlegs of his, leaps over a log to slam into...