Seconds later, the stupid little idiot leads John Wayne Gacy through the back of the house, where Our Intrepid Duo are already lying in wait. As Sam snatches the stupid little idiot from John Wayne Gacy's grasp, Dean spins around another corner to fire off both barrels of his sawed-off shotgun. The dimwit shrieks. "That's my job, you little bitch!" The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon shrieks right back at her. John Wayne Gacy takes both barrels to the chest and goes down like a French prizefighter. But then, just like Michael Myers in Halloween, he slowly rises back up into sitting position. The dimwit's still shrieking, by the way. You better shut up, bird brain. The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon will cut you. John Wayne Gacy leaps first to his feet and then through the glass door behind him, both shattering the thing as he passes through it and dematerializing as he does so. We get a hint that he retains some sort of solid form, though, when a potted plant on the back porch crashes down the steps as he presumably passes by. The stupid little shrieky idiot dimwit's parents finally arrive on the scene, and great is the shouting and screaming that follow until Sam and Dean bolt through the shattered back door. "They shot my clown!" the stupid little shrieky idiot dimwit pouts. After you let a homicidal maniac into your house at two o'clock in the morning, you're lucky they didn't shoot you. In the face. Moron.
Van Morrison, the next morning. Sam grabs the rest of his belongings from the back seat while Dean unscrews the license plate and shoves it into his duffel. "Do you really think they saw our plates?" Sam wonders, and hey, College Boy! Yeah, over here. You and your equally dim brother should be worried about them finding all of the fingerprints you both just left behind all over the doors and the windows and the upholstery, you jackass. MOVING ON. Sam and Dean amble down a gloriously sun-drenched rural blacktop lane and, after they let the audience in on the fact that they're not hunting a spirit after all -- "That rock salt hit something," as Dean puts it -- they shift into extremely uncomfortable territory when Sammy loudly wonders if Ellen and their father ever got it on. "Nah," Dean shakes his head immediately. "Then why didn't he ever tell us about her?" Sam asks. "Maybe they had some kind of falling out," Dean shrugs, which is a really dumb answer, given the topic, because if Ellen and John actually did have something going on and it ended badly, that would certainly count as "some kind of falling out," but it doesn't matter, because the real reason the writers gave him that line is so that Sam might too carelessly note, "Ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?" which Dean Takes! Personally! even though he's still very quiet about it all, and they just damn the nice little stroll they'd been having down that beautiful country lane straight to hell by ramping up the fraternal bitchery. You'd think dealing with sudden, violent death all the time would make these people more appreciative of the good moments in life, like this one, and not waste them with pointless internecine douchebaggery. Oh, wait a minute. Silly me. I forgot. They're straight. Which means they can't be appreciative of the good moments in life like this one and not waste them with pointless internecine douchebaggery because otherwise, people would think they're faggots. I did get that right, yes, Mr. McG, sir?