In any event, Dean stares at the flask in his hand in horrified disbelief for an instant before The Siren starts working his mojo, crooning, "I should be your little brother." Dean, wide-eyed, and seemingly unable to control his movements, turns to stare The Siren dead in the eye as The Siren continues, "Sam? You can't trust him -- not like you can trust me!" At this, The Siren examines his ghoulish reflection in the rear-view mirror while adding, "In fact, I really feel like you should get him out of the way, so that we can be brothers." "Forever," The Siren finishes, and Dean takes a second or two, seemingly to think that one over before nodding, "Yeah. Yeah, you're right." And then the METAL TEETH CHOMP! sneaks in to snack on his ridiculously luxurious lashes.

Later, at this week's motel room, Sam arrives to find Nick casually loitering on his bed and barely has time to wonder what the special agent's doing there before... Dean attacks! Yep, the stumpy little bow-legged midget gets the jump on The Ginormotron, and drags the fifteen-foot-tall freak of nature back against the wall in a headlock with an enormous hunting blade pressed against Darling Sammy's remarkably healthy neck. "I gotta tell ya," Sam snarks at The Siren once he's regained his senses, "you are one butt-ugly stripper." "Maybe," The Siren coquettishly replies, twirling a bit of hyacinth between his fingers, "but I got what I wanted -- I got Dean." By the way, Hyacinth, in Greek mythology? Gay. You can thank me later. At The Siren's request, Dean slices off a sliver of Sam's heretofore remarkably healthy neck, which I'm sure would make Raoul positively apoplectic with glee were he not so terribly confused at the moment. "It's true!" Raoul agrees, momentarily detaching his lips from his flagon. "I simply don't know whether to cheer the VIOLENCE! and the GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE! or to call for that dear little lad's head on a stick! DEATH! DEATH TO HIM WHO WOULD HARM THE NECK!" Sounds like you've got problems. "It is a most perplexing conundrum indeed!" Well, you keep sipping your cocktail, and I'll get through the rest of this scene, okay? "Okay!"

"You poisoned him!" Sam seethes, shooting accusations at The Siren. The Siren, of course, begs to differ. "I gave him what he needed," The Siren claims, "and it wasn't some bitch in a g-string -- it was you!" Sam sneers at The Siren with open loathing in his eyes as The Siren continues, "A little brother that looked up to him? That he could trust? And now he loves me." And then this dialogue starts dragging on and on and on as The Siren explains his reason for being, or whatever, and by this point, I'm wondering why The Ginormotron hasn't broken free from his stumpy little bow-legged midget of a brother's puny grasp and pounded both of these guys into sand, so let's skip ahead to the bit wherein The Siren most awesomely infects Sam as well, shall we? "We shall!'' Thanks, Raoul. So, after we listen to The Siren justify his existence for about three hundred hours, The Siren finally -- finally -- unhinges his lower jaw and shoots this stream of viscous fluid from beneath his tongue directly into Sam's mouth. It's as vile and disgusting and homoerotic as it sounds, so make of it all what you will. And in the end -- shut up, Raoul -- Darling Sammy falls under The Siren's spell as well, and our villain leads the boys to the center of the room, where he encourages them to work out their pent-up hostility with each other. "Whoever survives," he reminds them, "can be with me forever." This should end well.