Funnily enough, while recapping this scene, after each sentence I keep trying to start a new paragraph because I'm willing the scene to end. It refuses to do so, but I win, because I refuse to recap the rest!
Oh all right. I'll give you the outline. Cassie tells Dean, "No more excuses, okay?" and then they smack lips with extreme smackiness and I almost devote a nanosecond to contemplating what in the hell she means by that, especially since we all know they are going to part ways at the end of this episode and hopefully never see one another again. Anyhow, Dean's cell phone rings, which is finally a certain indication that a scene transition is imminent.
Out at the Mayor Whitey crime scene, Dean walks up to Sam, who stands with a policeman in the white Missouri snow. Sam smirks, "Where were you last night?" Ew. Sam asks, "So I'm guessing you guys worked things out?" If that's what you call it, ew. Dean: "We'll be working things out when we're ninety." Double ew. Geriatric sex? Please, brain, erase, please erase. They go over the details of Mayor Whitey's death, "every bone crushed, internal organs turned to mush...it's almost like something ran him over," but no tire tracks. Dean solves some mysteries for me by asking what the mayor was doing there. Sam exposits, "He owned the property, bought it a few weeks ago." Dean protests, "But he's white. Doesn't fit the pattern." I yell out, in homage to Sandra Bullock (much as my entire life is an homage to Sandra Bullock), "The profile doesn't fit the profile!"