After the lad's hammered off down the alleyway in his low-heeled boots, Dean turns to reenter the club and makes it about halfway to the door when a voice murmurs from the shadows, "You're pretty!" It's Troll Man, of course, and even though Dean quite politely explains that he sadly doesn't bat for that particular team, Troll Man lifts him up by his jacket and hurls him into a pile of nearby garbage. Some people are so pushy. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Cram it, lizard. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" In any event, Dean's all dazed and unable to defend himself and such, likely because the script says so, because God knows we've seen him take worse beatings than this and still be able to give as good as he's getting, but whatever, because Troll Man now approaches to smack him up some more.
Fortunately, Darling Sammy arrives from the bowels of the bar at this very instant to jog over to his brother's aid. Unfortunately, Darling Sammy stops midway down the alley to fix an expression of curious interest on his face when Troll Man gnaws open a vein on his wrist and proceeds to shove his entire forearm down Dean's throat. DUN! Sam waits until he's certain Dean's swallowed some of Troll Man's blood, then makes a half-hearted attempt to attack Troll Man with his machete while Dean drops to the asphalt, barely conscious. Troll Man dances around, sneering at Sam for a bit before cackling his way up a nearby fire escape, leaving Our Intrepid Heroes alone so blood-streaked and beaten El Deano might mewl, "Sammy?" at his traitorous titan of a brother until the METAL TEETH CHOMP! arrives to haul them both into this evening's next commercial break.
This Week's Motel Room. Aftermath. Secretly Evil Sammy busies himself closing the drapes and such, while Diseased El Deano flies into some kind of vampirism-induced bad acid flashback, screeching at every unnaturally amplified noise and now-blinding lamp until he finally gets control of himself enough to growl, "Samuel's going to kill me when he gets here." "No," Secretly Evil Sammy counters, "he's not." "Yes, he is," Diseased El Deano snaps back, "because I'm gonna ask him to, because you won't do it!" "We can figure this out!" Secretly Evil Sammy insists. "How?" Diseased El Deano roars, spoiling for an all-out hair-pulling slapfight about it all until his newly sensitive vampire ears latch onto Secretly Evil Sammy's unexpectedly sedate heartbeat. "Why aren't you freaked out?" Diseased El Deano demands. "Of course I am!" Secretly Evil Sammy LIES. "Really?" Dean snots. "'Cause I can hear your heartbeat, and it's pretty damn steady!" "That's 'cause I'm trying to remain calm," Secretly Evil Sammy LIES again, and the two yell at each other some more until Diseased El Deano excuses himself into the bathroom, the better to examine his baby fangs in the mirror before stealing off into the night through the room's tiny window. Dun-dun-DUN!