We get another eyeful of John's blazing corpse before the camera cross-fades to an overhead pan across various wrecks of the automotive sort in Bobby's sunnily bright junkyard as a title card appears at the bottom of the screen to inform us it's now "One Week Later." The opening guitar lines of Three Dog Night's "Shambala" rise tinnily from some unseen tape deck as the camera lands at last to hover over Metallicar's restored roof. Hooray! Still a long way to go -- including replacing, oh, the engine -- but progress has clearly been made. As a gentleman asks to have his troubles and pain washed away with the rain in Shambala, the camera pans down past the Impala's gutted interior to land on a sweat-stained Dean doing something manly with a wrench, on his back beneath the car. Sam lankily ambles over just as the gentleman implores the rain to do the same to his sorrow and his shame. No, I'm not reading too much into any of this at all. Why do you ask? "How's this car coming along?" Sam awkwardly opens, because, um, duh, College Boy. Are you blind? Dean's a bit kinder than I was just now, but his gruff, monosyllabic "slow" carries with it hints of increasing irritation. "Need any help?" poor Sammy tries again. "You, under a hood?" Dean snorts as he slings something chunky and metallic off to the side. "I'll pass." Because everyone is helpful and everyone is kind on the road to Shambala, Sam tries once more with, "Need anything else, then?" Dean rolls his grimy self out from beneath Metallicar, pointedly adjusts his socket wrench, and glares, "Stop it, Sam." "Stop what?" Sam flails. "Stop asking if I need anything," Dean sighs as he stalks over to his ramshackle work table. "Stop asking if I'm okay -- I'm okay," Dean insists, "I promise," but we know he is LYING just like he LIED when they were burning their father's corpse, because Dean is a LYING LIAR. "It's just that we've been at Bobby's for nearly a week," Sam exposits needlessly, for the title card already provided us with that information, "and you haven't brought up Dad once." "You're right," Dean admits apparently sincerely, and Sam allows his brother a sad smile. Then, just as McG's fucking name pops up in the credits at the bottom of the screen, Dean smarms, "Come here -- I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry? Hug? Maybe even slow dance!" Shut up, Dean. Can't you see that Sam's mangled tangle of hair is in pain?
The boys explode into angst-laden bitchery, with Sam being all, "Dad's dead, the fucking Colt is gone, The Ceiling Demon responsible for it is somewhere out there, and all you can think about is fixing your fucking car!" and with Dean being all, "Even you can't decipher Dad's cryptic notebook crap, College Boy, and if you could, we'd still have nothing to kill the damned dirty demon with anyway, so cram it!" and me being all, "Sam did not just diss Dean for fixing Metallicar, did he? Oooooh! Catfight!" Dean finishes it all up by asserting that as long as he can't accomplish anything productive with regard to the primary demon in their lives, he'll be fixing what he can: Metallicar. By the way, the song's just hit the part where the gentleman can tell his brother by the flowers in his eyes on the road to Shambala, and I am not making that up. Go back and check yourself, if you don't believe me. Sam, leaving the whole issue of Dean's screwy grieving process behind for the moment, finally reveals why he came out to bother his brother in the first place: He found one of John's old cell phones and cracked the voice mail password to retrieve a message John had been saving for the last four months. Dean presses the thing to his ear to hear a woman say, "John, it's Ellen -- again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me." Click. Dean's all, "Yes, and...?" Sam found no references to Ellen in their father's papers, but he reverse-directoried the phone number, or something, and he's got her address. Dean mulls this over, then nods his head, adding, "Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars."