Back from the break, Dean and Bobby process through recent events in the Chevelle just as Sam rings Dean's cell from the Impala. The Foul Fiend And Great Dissembler then LIES to The Stumpy Little Bow-Legged Lamb Of God regarding his current whereabouts and motivations, but that's okay, because Jesus flings a few similar LIES of his own back at The Anti-Christ. Once they've hung up on each other, Deceitful Sammy and His Gross Hair glower at Johnny Mac's. DUN!
Over in the Chevelle, Blessed Bobby castigates Our Dean And Saviour for the latter's LYING ways, but Sneaky Jesus explains he just didn't want Sam to worry about what he and Bobby are about to do. Which, you know: Summon Castiel. This summoning bullshit's news to Bobby, but as Dean's currently in possession of The Knife That Can Kill Anything And Actually Does, Bobby begins to feel better about the entire plan. Or not.
Meanwhile, Deluxe Action Anti-Christ With Super-Special Glow-In-The-Dark Lock-Picking Hands shimmies all fifteen feet of himself into Johnny Mac's, and..."GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Well, I was actually going to go with "carnage," but by all means feel free to shriek and writhe about upon your overstuffed armchair with unparalleled delight, my scaly friend, for there certainly is plenty of gore to be found in this scene. "Thanks! I will!" As the darling, ginormous Anti-Christ sidles through the darkened diner, he spots the fry cook lying face-down in a puddle of his own bodily fluids, and when Sam flips the guy over, he finds gruesomely seared and bloody sockets where the guy's eyes should be. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" He's no doubt about to stumble across the equally grisly remains of the patron when...Flo screams, "Kiss my grits, motherfucker!" and lands a flying ninja kick to his head! Well, she actually just beats him to the ground with a few well-placed socks to the phiz because, Anti-Christ or no, Darling Sammy still suh-huuuuucks at the hand-to-hand. He does, however, finally manage to get himself into something resembling a boxer's crouch, and when Flo steps into the dim light streaming in from the streetlamp outdoors, he can see that her eyes are gone, too. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" "You saw it?" Sam demands. "What was it?" "It--it's," Flo gasps before sobbing, "It's The End!" "We're dead!" she weeps, incredibly strangely for a demon because demons, you know, don't fucking cry! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" "We're all dead!" she babbles, but when Sam insistently repeats his second question, Flo pulls it together enough to sneer, "Go to Hell." Darling Demonic Sammy gets an adorably fiendish glint in his eye and replies, "Funny -- I was going to say the same thing to you." With that, he stretches out his right hand, thinks real hard for a moment, and soon enough, Flo's host starts involuntarily belching Flo's cloud of bitterly black demonic goo right out of her body. The heaving and the shaking and the retching go on for a very long time as Flo Bits dribble through the host body's fingers to seep into a growing pool on the floor, and the pace increases until the final Flo Bits tumble out in a cascade down the front of the host. Naturally, once the Flo Bits are gone, the host collapses onto the linoleum, dead. The Flo Goo, now hostless and itself completely doomed, bubbles around in a circle for a bit before the outer edges catch flame and the entire sloppy mess disappears for good. Kick ass.