That evening, Our Intrepid Heroes skulk outside the Frank Lloyd Wright knockoff, concealed in the shadowy depths of the Impala as they watch the remaining Warren pack some of his dead brother's belongings through the knockoff's blatantly and ridiculously uncurtained windows. Seriously, who wanders around in front of their unscreened windows like that at night? "Filthy exhibitionists?!" Raoul shrieks, trying to be helpful. Thanks, hon, but I think it's just this goddamned show being obnoxiously stupid again. How did Supernatural get so bad so quickly? Wait. Ignore that question, because I'm pretty sure the answer starts with "Well, it wasn't that good to begin with" and goes downhill from there. "I was going to say!" So, anyway, the boys are in the car, reviewing the fruits of Darling Sammy's latest furious bout of research, and as neither the Brothers Warren nor Slippery Sheila have anything in their personal histories to indicate a ghost-ship-related whacking is in order, Sam and Dean are at a loss. Unfortunately, the remaining Warren's just spotted them lurking and now charges out of the manse to hurl insults at the Impala, and for this, I'm afraid, he must die. "KILL HIM!" By the way, as the remaining Warren brother races off to his own car to flee from the Impala's now-seething presence, we catch a glimpse of his Rhode Island license plate, so at least we know which goddamned state we're in this evening.
In any event, The Last Warren hustles into the driver's seat and guns his car's engine down the manse's lengthy driveway until the motor unexpectedly splutters and chugs and shudders to a stop. Our Intrepid Heroes instantly realize this is likely due to the presence of something ethereal and foul-minded, and Dean takes off to fetch one of the sawed-off shotguns while Sam vaults a low fence to rush to The Last Warren's aid. Alas, the ghoul's already menacing The Last Warren from inside the car! DUzzzzzzzzzzz! This evening's people-slaughtering spirit takes the form of a very damp pirate, by the way, and while he's missing the obligatory eye patch and parrot, I do believe he is sporting a hook at the end of his right arm. So, Damp Dick, The Moist Menace Of The Seven Seas, telekinetically jams down the car's locks and presses his ejaculating palm against The Last Warren's face. The Last Warren immediately spews salt water all over the dashboard, and he continues to choke on and spit up the stuff until he at long last slumps against the steering wheel, drowned. Our Intrepid Heroes arrive far too late at the exact same time despite the fact that Sam got a lengthy head start on Dean, because this episode blows, and I want to die. Just not, you know, by choking on seawater in my living room, because that would be messy. "And it would simply ruin that cunning little laptop of yours!" shrieks Raoul. In any event, and despite the futility of such action, Dean nevertheless blasts a round of rock salt into Damp Dick's soggy head, and the ghost evaporates instantly in a spray of glass shattered from the passenger's-side window. Sam yanks open the driver's-side door and pushes The Last Warren's corpse back in its seat. The dead man's head lolls backwards, and a stream of saltwater pours from his gaping mouth all the way down into the METAL TEETH CHOMP!