Bridge. Aftermath. Sam actually managed to grab hold of a jutting length of iron on his way down, and now scrambles back up to the bridge's railing. Panicked, he calls for his brother until he spots the muddied Dean crawling out of the muck and onto the riverbank below. "Are you all right?" Sam calls down. Dean, caked with God knows what, rather amusingly offers his younger brother an OK sign while replying, "I'm super." Moments later, both boys are again on the bridge, with Dean confirming that whatever their unfriendly ghost did to control the car, it doesn't seem to have had any permanent effects. "That Constance chick," Dean manfully rages. "What a BITCH!" The boys perch on the Impala's hood, and Sam takes a moment before noting, "You smell like a toilet." Hee.

Cut to Dean slamming a MasterCard issued to "Hector Aframian" down on the register at the town's motel. Should any of you kind folks wish to try your own hand at credit card fraud, it's number 5689 7719 4471 2356 with an expiration date of January 2008. Have fun! The ancient proprietor examines the name and grunts, "You guys having a reunion or something?" The boys are all, "Whaaaa?" "Another guy -- Burt Aframian," the ancient proprietor explains, "he came in and bought out a room for the whole month." Dean stares the ancient proprietor down for a moment before tossing his head in the gayest manner imaginable in Sam's direction.

Cut to the boys breaking into "Burt Aframian's" room, though God alone knows how they figured out which one it was. There's a jokey shot of Sam yanking Dean into the room from the front porch before we get a look at the room's contents. So far, I'm spotting an unmade bed, an unpacked suitcase, a Geiger counter, and hundreds of newspaper clippings and drawings taped to the walls. You know. The usual. Dean finds a moldy fast-food hamburger on the nightstand and determines that Dear Old Dad hasn't been there "in a couple days, at least." Sam notes a ring of salt on the floor, which along with the "cat's eye shells" makes him very, very tense regarding their father's safety. Dean stumbles across the wall his father devoted to the Centennial Highway victims and starts puzzling his way through their descriptions to find some sort of common link. Thank God law student Sam's there to spot something relevant on the wall opposite, because otherwise we might be here for weeks. Dean's not the sharpest pair of scissors in the drawer, is all I'm saying. Hell, he's not even as sharp as those enormous plastic things they gave you in kindergarten to gnaw through construction paper.