Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter THEN! To Undead Zombie Grandpa's skillfully concealed dismay, Secretly Evil Sammy let Dreary El Deano turn into a vampire for all of three seconds in order to track the location of The Alpha Vampire, who is apparently building an army of wee bitty Shining twins so they can have tea parties with bleeding Victorian dollies in various Illinois graveyards. Then, Veritas blew Secretly Evil Sammy's secretly evil cover, so Dreary El Deano beat the pretty clear off Openly Evil Sammy's face. Got all that? Good. Next!
Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter NOW! As Openly Evil Sammy struggles back into sludgy semi-consciousness over in Last Week's Motel Room, the blurry image of My Sweet Baboo pushes itself up into The Semi-Conscious Sam-Cam to growl, "You're right -- he looks terrible." "You did this?" Castiel asks of Dreary El Deano, who sits silently somewhere off to the side as the camera reverses and we get another good look at the fresh wounds Dreary El Deano beat onto Openly Evil Sammy's heretofore remarkably pretty face. After a few more watery, Sam-P.O.V. images of the room in general, Openly Evil Sammy finally manages to focus his eyes on the angel and address My Sweet Baboo by name just as he realizes his hands have been firmly secured behind his back with a length of rope.
Castiel pushes Openly Evil Sammy's battered head backwards to examine the errant Winchester's eyes while asking of Dreary El Deano, "Has he been feverish?" "Have you?" Dreary El Deano barks, for he apparently hasn't a clue, despite the fact that he's been sharing the Impala and numerous motel rooms with his brother for the better part of the season. Idiot. "No," Openly Evil Sammy replies before wondering, "Why?" Ignoring him, Castiel next asks of Dreary El Deano, "Has he been speaking in tongues?" "Are you diagnosing me?" Openly Evil Sammy bleats, confounded. "You better hope he can," Dreary El Deano snarls from the far side of the room before rising to his feet to approach Openly Evil Sammy with a jeering, "What, you think that there's a clinic out there for people who just pop out of Hell wrong?" "He asks, you answer," Dreary El Deano seethes, "then you shut your hole -- got it?" A somewhat awkward silence follows for a moment until Castiel asks Openly Evil Sammy, "How much do you sleep?" "I don't," Openly Evil Sammy admits. "Not since I got back."