...poor Bobby's tormented head, where his nightmare with the banshee continues apace. Dream Bobby -- now sporting a nasty set of scratches on his cheek, yet somehow also still sporting his signature trucker's cap despite the pounding he took the last time we saw him -- has barricaded himself in a closet, and as the banshee goes apeshit with the wailing and the slamming herself against the door and whatnot, Dream Bobby spins around to face the camera and howl, "Help me! HEEEEEELP MEEEEEEEEE!" as the camera shoots backwards from his face, impossibly elongating the closet's interior as it does so, leaving Dream Bobby a mere speck of his bellowing self at the very far end of the shot until we...
...pop out of Dream Bobby's head to land right in the middle of the METAL TEETH CHOMP! "That was most certainly discombobulating, indeed!" Raoul shrieks. Um. Really? "Of course not! But I am trying to be polite, as always! Besides, did you see what I just did there?! 'Dis-com-BOB-ulating'!? Hee!" We really need to get some gore up in here, because Raoul is driving me nuts. "My pleasure, I'm sure!"
Hospital corridor. Sam and Dean pedebabble regarding the issue at hand until Super-Smart El Deano realizes they can find out what's going on in Comatose Bobby's head simply by taking some of the Dream Root themselves. The Ginormotron -- who's positively towering over Li'l Stumpy in some of these shots, here -- finds this an excellent plan, with only one minor hitch: Wherever will they find the necessary amounts of Doctor Gregg's magical herb? Uh, his office? Maybe break into his house, or something? Oh, even better -- I'm sure he's got a huge stash of it squirreled away in some mystery storage unit somewhere, right? Right? Alas, Dean determines they have but a single option: Bela. "Bela?" Sam and I snort simultaneously, with near-overwhelming amounts of disgust. "Crap!" Li'l Stumpy's none too pleased with the idea himself but clomps off to give her a ring, anyway, and The Ginormotron flails about in frustration for a moment before joining his bow-legged midget of a brother down the hall.
Later that evening, Darling Sammy taps away on his laptop in The Heroin Suite until an unexpected knock arrives at the door. He rises to answer, and heaves a tremendous sigh of distaste when he finds Posh Bela standing at the threshold. Instead of punching her in the neck for daring to harm one of his remarkably healthy shoulders, he wordlessly invites her in, and as she's wrapped in a tan trench that clearly has little beneath it, I'm already starting to go blind. Sam snots something about how he never thought she'd show up, she coos that she's full of surprises, her hands move to untie the trench's belt, and Bamp-Chicka-Wow-Wow! "Whaddya think you're doing?" Sam stammers. "You!" Posh Bela pretty much replies as she allows her trench to drop to the carpet, and oh, HELL to the negligeed no! "But Demian, darling!" Raoul hastens to remind me. "If he sleeps with her, she dies! Hooray!" Yeah, too bad this is just a dream sequence, Raoul. "Rats! Fast-forward! Fast-forward NOW!" Already on it, my scaly friend. So, Real Sam quite literally drools his way through an unsightly and unspeakable bout of filthy dream-time fornication with that foul-tempered bint until oblivious Dean shouts him awake. Sam, who'd dozed off draped across the room's table, snaps upright in his chair with both a horrified expression on his face and a steely boner in his jeans. No, really. No. Really. NO REALLY SAM POPPED A WOODY OVER BELA AND THIS SHOW BLOWS AND I WANT TO DROP DEAD RIGHT NOW and look! Here's Bela! CONVENIENTLY ARRIVING AT THE MOTEL ROOM AT THIS VERY SECOND! AAAUAAUAAUUAAAAAAAGH!