The camera fades up on a damp collegiate quad somewhere to find Dashing El Deano shoving the last of a Big Dog On Campus down his throat while finishing up a call with the never-seen Bobby. The Ginormotron lumbers over with news that "the professor doesn't know crap," which leads Dean to hop from the bench upon which he'd been perched and mumble a sarcastic, "Shocking!" around the remains of his hot dog before ordering Darling Sammy to pack his panties, 'cause they're hitting the road. Seems Bobby caught wind of Ben The Banker's unfortunate demise, and as the banker'd been complaining about mysterious electrical disturbances at his house in the week leading up to his suicide, both Bobby and Dean are convinced something most spectrally foul is afoot, so Our Intrepid Heroes must head to Ohio, pronto. Darling Sammy's more than a bit taken aback by all of this, because he thought they were already on a case, said case being Dean's. You know, with the trade for Sam's life and the dying and the rotting in Hell for all eternity? That case. Dean pisses that they've talked to "every professor, witch, soothsayer, and two-bit carny act in the lower forty-eight," and nobody anywhere knows anything, so in the meantime, he'd like to get back to doing his job, thank you very much. Sam suggests summoning Princess Sparkle for a consult, so Dean's forced to reveal that Princess Sparkle told him that there's no way out of the deal Dean made with the delightful Ona Grauer at the end of last season, and from there everything descends into a screamy, hair-pulling slapfight right there in the middle of the quad, with Sam all, "OMG how could you LIE TO ME!" and Dean going, "Right back at ya, you PISSYPANTSED little TIGHTASS!" and Sam with the pouting and the bitchface and the storming off in a snit and Dean bow-leggedly stompy-clomping after him and you know what? You two can get back to the actual action anytime you feel like it, okay? "Absolutely!" Raoul concurs. "I did not endure that wretched writers' strike just to come back after the subsequent and lengthy rerun- and reality-filled hiatus, only to find these two charming little gentlemen howling away at each other in such a tedious and too-familiar fashion! I want razor-wire decapitations, and I want them now!"I like how you elided the late unpleasantness just then, my scaly friend. "Oh, goody! It was just for you!" It's certainly appreciated. "My pleasure, I'm sure!"