Trotter's Office, and this is a COMPLETELY POINTLESS WASTE OF AIRTIME AND DON DAVIS. Trotter and his bodyguard leave, skulky Sam ransacks the place, Trotter and the bodyguard unexpectedly return, startled Sam gets a gun shoved in his face, and long, long, long story short, neither Trotter nor his bodyguard is possessed, as Sam discovers when he manages to splash them with a bit of holy water, to no effect. Next!
Lair Of The Demonically Enhanced Five-Cent Piece Of Ass, and since she so kindly obliged Raoul and I by slaughtering The Fucking Unbearable Wop like the pig he was, would someone please give her a proper name, already? It seems so rude to use that tawdry nickname after she did us all a solid by snapping that useless prick's neck. "Absolutely!" ANY-way, The Demonically Enhanced Five-Cent Piece Of Ass leads the apparently clueless El Deano into her wine cellar of doom, but crafty El Deano's actually pulled one over on her. See, he eventually realized he could track The Fucking Unbearable Wop by the GPS on the latter's cell phone, found the corpse while The Demonically Enhanced Five-Cent Piece Of Ass was at work, buried The Fucking Unbearable Wop in the backyard, or something, and returned to the cellar to chalk an intricate Devil's Trap onto the concrete floor before covering it with the handy bit of Persian carpet now resting beneath The Demonically Enhanced Five-Cent Piece Of Ass's feet and heading back to Trotter's Bar, where he proceeded to lure her back to her own lair! Oh, Dean. Oh, clever, clever Dean. Needless to say, The Demonically Enhanced Five-Cent Piece Of Ass is most displeased by this turn of events, especially when Dear El Deano whips out his handy exorcism manual and starts latinating at her. Of course, The Demonically Enhanced Five-Cent Piece Of Ass is no ordinary fiend, and she stands stilly at the center of her prison with her eyes closed while Dean latinates away. Soon enough, she's conjured a little mojo of her own to counteract his, and a whirlwind whips through the cellar, ripping the pages from Dean's notebook before finally flinging the thing from his hands entirely. The demonic mojo next cracks open the floor beneath Dean's feet (but not hers, for whatever massively contrived reason) until a couple of the cellar's supporting pillars collapse, sending a shower of Styrofoam debris down from the house above to block off the cellar's only exit. Once all this is done, she allows her eyes to open and smiles broadly in his direction. "What're you smiling for, bitch?" he demands. "You're still trapped!" "So are you," she carefully articulates, "bitch." Yet another point to The Demonically Enhanced Five-Cent Piece Of Ass. Dean puckers The Manfully Fretful Ducky Lips Of Unexpectedly Entombed Irritation all the way into the METAL TEETH CHOMP!, which is far more pleased to receive the Ducky Lips than this episode's last distasteful offering, but I'm pretty sure it really wants to clamp its jaws down on Darling Sammy. Tramp. Are we gonna have to cut a bitch?