...out in the lot, leading Nick to the Impala with the admonishment, "We're taking my ride, no complaining about the tunes." Nice callback, show. Nick's value as a human being immediately rises in Dean's estimation when Nick practically creams himself over the Impala's many natural wonders -- including her "327 four-barrel," whatever the hell that is -- and the two hop into the front seat with Dean thinking that this little trip to the strip club might not suck so much, after all.

Back in the good doctor's office, she tosses Sam some playful sass regarding her superior credentials as a medical professional, or something, before heading over to the fridge to pull the samples he'd requested. One problem: All four of them are missing. DUN!

Over at The Honey Wagon, Dean and Nick bond over their shared love of both Zeppelin covers of old blues tunes and shots. Eventually, Nick shares a bit of evidence he found at the Naugahyde whacking: A frond of blue hyacinth. He commandeered it from the local cops on the theory that serial killers leave signature objects behind at the scenes of their crimes, and sure enough, similar fronds were found at the other murders, but with the way this case has been going, who knows where it all fits in? "I think I might," Dean eyebrows immediately. "I've seen a flower like this before." And where was that, I hear you ask?

Why, back in the good doctor's office, of course! DUN! The camera pans slowly around Doctor Cara's potted hyacinth to take in Darling Sammy and the good doctor herself as they scan through security tapes in a futile effort to pinpoint a suspect in the samples' disappearance, but that's not important right now because we've finally entered the Seduction Of Saint Sammy portion of this evening's festivities. "Hooray!" Yep, as the last of her coworkers slides into her coat to exit the office, Doctor Cara pulls a bottle of whiskey out of her credenza along with two glasses and, looking appealingly tousled and more than a little unbuttoned, offers Sam a slug or two -- for medicinal purposes, don't you know -- as they settle in to chat about various aspects of the current cases. Of course, the chat becomes personal, because each case turns on someone slaughtering a person he supposedly loved, and Darling Sammy just can't understand how that could happen. Doctor Cara, teasing a bit, asks of him, "Haven't you ever been in a relationship where you really loved somebody and still kinda wanted to bash their head in?" Sam deflects the question by noting she seems to be speaking from experience, and we learn of her failed marriage to this guy who gradually turned, right in front of her eyes, into a complete stranger over the course of a few years, and if you don't get the parallels they're drawing at this moment, you will by the end of the episode, so I'll be skipping ahead to the point where Sam's cell rings, and it's Dean, but because even Saint Sammy Of The Celibately Afflicted can tell where this conversation is heading, he ignores the call in favor of another belt of whiskey and a shot at the good doctor's medicine bag. "Demian!" What now? "That's revolting!" Stop clutching at your nonexistent pearls, Raoul. It's late, I'm hopped up on three different kinds of cold medication, and there are still fourteen minutes left to go in this episode, so you're just going to have to deal. "Oh, my! I do apologize I'm sure! I had no idea you were feeling so poorly! Would you like to borrow my Snuggie?!" Thanks for the offer, friend of friends, but I think I'll just wrap a blanket around my legs like a normal person and keep this moving, okay? "Okay!"