Wine Cellar. Aftermath. Dean lights a few candles, vainly searching for the exorcism manual that's now buried beneath several feet of Styrofoam, while The Demonically Enhanced Five-Cent Piece Of Ass taunts at him from within her invisible cage. Dean finally rises to shout the exorcism into her face from memory but of course biffs it after the first couple of words, because apparently, memorizing the one goddamned ritual guaranteed to send demons screaming back to Hell was never that high on his list of priorities. Oh, Dean. Oh, stupid, stupid Dean. ANY-way, the two hiss and scratch at each other for a bit until The Demonically Enhanced Five-Cent Piece Of Ass reveals she's not flying solo on this particular mission, which shuts Dean up long enough for the audience to realize she sabotaged her own lair as a means of summoning some backup of her own. Dean advances upon her, glaring, until she lightly sighs, "You can give me hard eyes all you want, but the fact remains: We just have to wait and see who shows up first -- the cavalry, or the Indians?" She doesn't clarify which side she thinks she's on, which is a nice little bit of ambiguity, but really: BORING!
Back at the bar, the same pro who offered Dean a discount now sets her sights on Darling Sammy. The whore receives an enormous pissypantsed bitchface for her troubles, and she promptly wanders off in search of clientele who don't have massive poles shoved up their behinds. Sam spins to light upon the bartender, whom he immediately peppers with questions regarding Dean's whereabouts. Like so many others in this establishment, the bartender -- bless his short, stout, and troll-like middle-aged self -- might be cheap, but he's not free, either, so Darling Sammy's forced to part with a couple of twenties before the bartender offers what he knows, which isn't anything the audience hasn't learned already, save for The Demonically Enhanced Five-Cent Piece Of Ass's actual name, which is Casey. Rude Sammy barely nods his thanks before racing off to Casey's apartment.
Wine Cellar Of My Despair. While I'm happy to have Casey's actual name, and while Jensen Ackles and Sasha Barrese do a marvelous job with what little they've been given to play during these scenes, Casey actually utters the actual line, "Look, we won't have any affect on the outcome of this," and if they're going to discount these scenes' importance by having one of the characters herself admit that there's absolutely no frigging point to them, then why should I bother to pay attention to anything that transpires in this goddamned basement? "Because it's your job?!" SHUT UP RAOUL I AM NOT TALKING TO YOU. "Well!" Oh, can it, missy, with the offended paw so delicately splayed across your chest. You were practically asleep the last two times we were down here, so don't pretend you have any more interest in this BORING CRAP than I do! "Demian, darling! Heaven knows I myself did not sign up for this otherwise delightful little bit of televisual entertainment in order to endure endless ruminations on the nature of good and evil, but that's no call to get snippy with me!" You're right, my faithful lizardly companion, you're right. So, shall I speed through these dreadfully BORING scenes, or what? "Knock yourself out!"