Back on earth, Crazy Sammy and Princess Embolism -- or, as Lilith's Dietician quite amusingly defines them, "A-Rod and Madonna" -- have strapped the demonically enhanced neonatal nurse to a table in that abandoned farmhouse, and let the torturous interrogation begin! "Hooray!" Crazy Sammy demands The Dietician reveal Lilith's current coordinates, and The Dietician sasses him by way of response, so Crazy Sammy unleashes The Mighty Hands Of Discontent, and..."VIOLENCE! WANTON ACTS OF PSYCHOKINETIC VIOLENCE AND-- wait a minute! Where's the GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE?!" All in good time, my scaly friend. All in good time. "Rats!"

Up in Dean's garish celestial waiting room, the man himself stands in front of yet another painting that I'm certain represents something significant as far as the plot is concerned, but my mad art history skillz are nil, so you're on your own with that one, and after Dithering El Deano hems and haws over his cell phone for a very long minute, he finally flips the thing open to dial Sam's number. Of course, because Crazy Sammy is otherwise quite violently occupied at the moment, Dean falls into voice mail, and he leaves the following message:

"Hey, it's me. I, uh...look, I'll just get right to it: I'm still pissed, and I owe you a serious beatdown, but I shouldn't have said what I said. I'm not [our worthless bastard of a so-called father]. We're brothers, we're family, and no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change, so.... Sammy, I'm sorry."

"[Sniff!] That was touching!" I've said it before, Raoul, and I'll say it again: Sarcasm is so ugly on you. "Hee!" In any event, his plea for brotherly reconciliation thus so eloquently delivered, Dean snaps shut his phone and bumbles about for a little while until we finally shoot back down to...