A moment later, the two pass into Bobby's den, with the master of the house still struggling with what Dean's just told him. "Your chest was ribbons!" Bobby protests. "Your insides were slop AND you've been buried for four months!" Raoul, stop it. "What?!" Dude, I can hear you salivating. "Oh, my most sincere apologies, I'm sure!" Oy. So, while Raoul dabs a hasty napkin against his impressive maw, Bobby wonders, "Even if you could slip out of Hell and back into your meatsuit..." "...I should look like a Thriller video reject," Dean finishes for him, and that line's...not terribly funny at all, so we'll pretend I did not in fact just highlight it by transcribing it into this recap and keep this thing going, shall we? "Let's!" You missed a spot. "Ooops!" Long story short, Dean remembers nothing of his sojourn Down Below, so they focus their attention on tonight's next bit of business: Darling Sammy, and The Ginormotron's current whereabouts. The first number Dean dialed, you see, was his brother's, and Bobby's forced to admit that despite his best efforts, he lost contact with Sam "months ago," though Bobby's pretty sure Sam's still alive. You must understand that the fifteen-foot-tall freak of nature snapped after Dean died, insisting they bury rather than burn the corpse because, according to Bobby, Dean "would need a body when [Sam] got [him] back home somehow." College Boy then got all broody and sullen -- like, there's something new -- and just took off one day, and Bobby hasn't heard from him since. "Oh, Me!" Jesus Christ pretty much grumbles to Himself in disgust once he realizes what Sam's done. Dean's convinced Darling Sammy worked some fancy black mojo to pull Dean out of Hell, you see, and he's got the nuked-out gravesite, the shattered fill-up, and the brand on his shoulder to prove it. He's completely wrong about it all, of course, but it's enough for Bobby, and the next thing we know...

...the two are on the phone back in the kitchen, trying to activate a GPS trace on Sam's cell. The name on the account, by the way, is "Wedge Antilles," which apparently signifies something, though I'll be fucked if I can tell you what, and at this point in the evening, I can't be bothered to care. Trace activated, Dean next swings into action at Bobby's laptop, calling up Arc Mobile's website while noting the plethora of empty whiskey bottles littering the desk. "What's the deal with the liquor store?" Dean asks, waggling one of the bottles around in the air. "Were your parents out of town, or something?" "Like I said," Bobby sighs, "the last few months ain't been all that easy." "Atta girl!" shrieks Raoul, predictably enough, though I can't say I disagree with his sentiment. "Thanks!" No problem, friend of friends. So, anyway, while Dean tried and failed to guilt-trip the audience into a life spent on the wagon, or something, Arc Mobile managed to belch out a MapQuest triangulation of Sam's current coordinates, and uh-oh: He's in Pontiac, Illinois. As in, right where Dean popped out of the ground, so it looks like Dean's right about that fancy black mojo, except for the part where he's completely wrong about it all, so let's skip ahead to...