Moments later, Darling Sammy's apparently completely roused himself from his drug-induced stupor, and has summoned Head Shrink to his cell to apologize. Head Shrink hesitates, but eventually accepts the apology, though he does verbally smack Sam up a bit over the latter's obviously unresolved rage issues while warning that one more outburst from Darling Sammy will find Our Dear Boy transferred "to a facility that is equipped to handle violent patients." "And believe me," Head Shrink adds, "they will be far, far less forgiving." Head Shrink also graciously restores Sam's dayroom privileges, so the next thing we know, Sam's loping on up to Dean, and psych! It's not really Dean at all, because now Sam's talking to himself, too! "Oh, I am so confused!" wails Raoul, a weary paw drifting towards his poor little overheated forehead, and I feel you, my scaly friend. I feel you. The good thing is, this version of Psycho Mindfuck Dean doesn't really have anything different to say than the last version of Psycho Mindfuck Dean did, so we can skip ahead to the bit where Deluxe Crazy Sammy With Super-Special Glow-In-The-Dark Air-Punching Hands starts, like, practicing his mad jujitsu skillz in the middle of the dayroom, or something, because while Deluxe Crazy Sammy thinks he's fending off the horde of shuffling, sepulchral, sunken-eyed, disease-ridden lunatic freaks now closing in on him, he's actually just biffing away at flies. Until, you know, he manages to send a couple of orderlies through plate-glass windows again. D'OH! And as the orderlies eventually overpower him to drag him off to solitary, the camera cuts over to a quiet, dark corner of the dayroom, where Actual Dean sits by himself, absently and nervously picking at his fingers while watching the drama unfold with a pair of empty yet luxuriously lashed doe eyes. "What's happening?" Crazy Dean mumbles to himself. "Why doesn't he ask that deliciously craggy-faced gentleman with all of the cunning pieces of art?!" Why, that's an excellent idea, Raoul. "Thanks!"