Dean orders Adam to help him with the mattress -- no, not like that! The kid's an infant, you sickos! -- and once they've shoved it aside, they find a heating vent's grate embedded in the floor. DUN! "Eeeeeeeeeeeee!" Dean glances at Sam, Sam sighs, and the two launch themselves into a rousing game of Rock-Paper-Scissors, because they are still eight years old. Also because Dean is still a moron, because Rock-Paper-Scissors is still the absolute last way one would want to settle a dispute with a psychic, and also because Dean is still a freaking moron, because not only do you not settle a dispute with a psychic by playing Rock-Paper-Scissors, you especially don't settle a dispute with a psychic by playing Rock-Paper-Scissors when the psychic's your younger brother who knows that you always throw Scissors, which Dean proceeds to do right now, and Sam of course throws Rock, so Dean's the one who has to squeeze himself into the ductwork, and oh, Dean! This little bit was exceedingly cute, of course, and a very nice callback to "Heart," but with him still throwing Scissors even after all these years, I can't decide if it's a sign of Dean's seemingly endless supply of optimism, or if it's a sign Dean's a mouthbreathing simp who shouldn't be able to tie his damn shoes properly. And frankly, at this point in the series, after everything Dean's been through, if it's the former, then it's also the latter, so this appears to be a no-win situation for Dashing El Deano all around, here. "Demian!" What? "Get on with the scene!" My apologies, Raoul. The character continuity distracted me. Now, where was I?
Oh, yes: Dean pries off the grate and swings his flashlight around the duct's interior for a bit before dropping both the light and his trusty pearl-handled automatic into the tiny passage before wriggling into the tight space himself, and it's a good thing Sam emerged from that rousing bout of Rock-Paper-Scissors victorious, because there's no way -- no way -- that fifteen-foot-tall freak of nature with his remarkably broad shoulders would ever have fit into this heating duct, ever. NO WAY. "Demian!" I'm getting to it! "Well! Really! There's no call to get snippy with me, sir!" Sorry! Sorry. Too many distractions. And apparently, Dashing El Deano's negatively impacted by them as well, for he squeezed himself into the ductwork while entirely missing that massive streak of blood just beneath the grate! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Raoul shrieks with delight, finally writhing about upon his overstuffed armchair with unmitigated glee now that we've once again got the good stuff back on the screen, and just you wait, friend of friends. "Really!?" Yep, it only gets better, for when Dean reaches the first junction, he first fakes us out by swinging his flashlight to the left and finding nothing, but when he swings that bitty ray of light to the right? "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" "Oh, it's just delightful!" Raoul gasps, an expertly honed paw pressed against his heaving chest as he thrills at the beauty of it all. "Oh, the hair! And the bits of teeth and bone! And the...the...the GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" I'm so happy you're happy, Raoul. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" And with that, Dean's hilarious "Oh, crap!" expression gets gobbled up by a most appreciative METAL TEETH CHOMP!