Meanwhile, back in detention, Dean continues to deny everything himself. A deputy pokes his head into the room with news that the department's received "a 9-1-1, shots fired," so Roscoe cuffs Dean to the interrogation table and leaves, shutting and locking the door behind him. Crafty Dean slides a paper clip from his father's occult-filled day planner and gets to work.

A short time later, Dean, now free from the cuffs, bides his time until the entire department has left to answer the 911, and the next thing we know, he's shimmying down the building's fire escape from the roof to drop to the alleyway below. He's snagged one of the officers' gun belts, which he sports slung over one forearm, and pauses to yank his father's occult-filled day planner from the back of his jeans before jogging towards the street. How he fit that book down there along with all of that fine ass is beyond my powers of comprehension.

While all this is going on, Sam's busily cruising down Centennial Highway in the Impala. Alone. Yeah, real smart, there, Lawyer Boy. Dean rings Sam's cell from a payphone and congratulates his little brother on the fake 911. The two then pass along the relevant information we've already been privy to, with one additional detail: The "35-111" in the demonic day planner is actually a set of coordinates that should direct the boys to Dear Old Dad's current location. Part of Dad's "Marine Corps crap," you see. As they ponder the significance of Dear Old Dad skipping town without his demonic day planner, Sam suddenly gasps in surprise and slams on the brakes. The shot cuts to reveal he's plowing the Impala straight through Constance's spectral form. If you enjoyed this episode, do yourself a favor and do not go back and freeze-frame this moment, because the effects are pitiful. In any event, as the car passes through Constance, she disappears. Sam manages to skid to a stop a couple of hundred feet further down the road, but not without a couple of intercut shots of Dean shouting futilely into the payphone. Sam grinds to a halt and blinks, gasping for breath. The camera slowly passes across his huffing face to reveal a sullen- and resentful-looking Constance pouting in the back seat. She trains her gaze appropriately so that when she eventually demands, "Take me home," the first things Sam sees in the rearview mirror are her glowering eyes. Sam freaks right into the final commercial break.