The Only Restaurant In Town. Batshit Becky barges in to find Gay Guy busy with the final preparations for that evening's reunion, but he smilingly accommodates her frantic interruption and sits her down at a table to offer her a soothing cocktail. Becky declines, because she's an idiot, and eventually, they get around to revealing what anyone with half a brain figured out about forty minutes ago: Gay Guy's actually a Sassy Crossroads Demon, in town to take advantage of all those hapless losers who've found themselves agonizing in the throes of despair at the mere thought of attending their high school reunion, and if Becky wants to regain her lost control over Darling Sammy, she'll need to be trading her soul, pronto. Becky proves she's been paying attention tonight by noting that Gay Guy's previous clients all seem to have met with suspiciously early deaths, but he promises the same will not be happening to her. In fact, if she vows "not to breathe a word about this to the Winchesters," Gay Guy's prepared to offer her a super-special, one-time-only deal: Twenty-five full years of wedded bliss with Darling Sammy, guaranteed. Batshit Becky hesitates, tears welling up in her eyes for whatever reason, but she eventually bleats, "I think I'll have that drink now." "ZZZZZZ -- atta girl! -- ZZZZZZZ!"

Batshit Becky's. Dean and the perpetually useless DJ Qualls pick the lock and tippy-toe their collective way through the door to ransack the place. Eventually, Dean determines that Batshit Becky's spirited Whammied Sammy away to her parents' cunning little vacation cabin nestled away on the tranquil shores of scenic -- wait for it -- "Loon Lake." Please don't ask for the details. Trust me: You don't care.

And speaking of that cunning little vacation cabin nestled away on the tranquil shores of scenic Loon Lake, we arrive back at same to find Batshit Becky dejectedly slouching her way through the door, fresh from her sit-down with Gay Guy. She mopes her way back to the bedroom, where Sam is of course still bound and gagged, and she launches herself into a mournful explanation of her motives and justifications that takes up a full three minutes of screen time. And, you know, credit where credit is due: Emily Perkins does her damn best to sell the hell out of the garbage they've given her to deliver during all of this. Unfortunately for her, it still reeks. Long story short, her grand plan to triumph at her high school reunion with Darling Sammy on her arm has fallen to ruin, and she's now more convinced than ever that she's nothing more than a desperate loser, fated to stagger through life forever alone. Or something like that. She carefully withdraws the latest vial of Gay Guy's magical elixir from her jacket pocket, and stares at it for a very long time. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Exactly.