...this never-named town's state-of-the-art morgue, where the LYING LIARS WHO LIE, still masquerading as FBI agents, bow-leggedly lope and gloom their ways, respectively, through the buzzy, busy hallways until... Darling Sammy's Spidey Sense sets to tingling! DUN! The action grinds down into slow motion as the boys pass a shorn-headed undertaker-type heading in the opposite direction, and our attention is drawn to the suspicious-looking briefcase the gent's toting until the apparent undertaker vanishes around the hall's far corner. "You okay?" Dashing El Deano wonders, having of course noticed the sudden shift down into slow-mo. "I'm fine," Darling Sammy LIES, all the while sniffing at the air like he's just caught a whiff of some delicious crack, but we haven't any time to deal with that at the moment, for Our Intrepid Heroes have now reached the morgue proper, where the burly and genial Doctor Corman has just finished closing up Dead Jackass Jimbo and his similarly deceased paramour. The good doctor tosses Dean the keys to the joint and skedaddles, but not before reminding the boys to "refrigerate after opening," and with that, we leap into an investigatory montage during which mischievous El Deano slides an eviscerated human heart over to Darling Sammy with a faux-plaintive, "Be my Valentine?" Heh. Buzzkill Sam wrinkles his nose in disgust and is about to return to his intent study of someone's disemboweled intestine when his eagle eyes spot something unusual marking the heart's surface. It is, quite naturally, the Enochian letter Na -- whose English equivalent is supposedly H, as in "Heart" -- and wouldn't you know it? The heart formerly belonging to the other of our obscenely annoying honey-bunnies features the same exact brand! Raoul rouses himself long enough to shriek, "What are the odds?!" before lapsing back into his awesome-induced coma, and the boys quickly realize they'll be needing an angelic consult on this one, so Dean flips open his cell to ring My Sweet Baboo. And in a bit of extremely amusing business, barely has Dean shared their current coordinates with Castiel when the angel himself magically materializes not three inches from the end of Dean's nose, staring intently at Our Intrepid Hero while intoning into his still-active phone, "I'm there now." "Yeah, I get that," Dean deadpans, his voice echoing as its electronic version emerges from Castiel's receiver. My Sweet Baboo, at a momentary loss over how to proceed at this juncture, hesitantly states, "I'm gonna... hang up now." "Right," Dean acknowledges, still into his own cell. Heh.