Guitar licks take us to a bar, that we see from the outside is called "Kugel's Keg," which puts the Jew back in Minnesota, I guess. Inside the brothers are having a couple of beers. Sam sits like a lump on a log going over the details of the case as published in what looks like a newsletter? Like, it is supposed to be a newspaper, but the paper is all white and heavy-weight. Dean is shooting darts and making me love him. Sam notes that the police have not ruled out foul play, and then Dean annoyingly again suggests that maybe this is just a routine kidnapping. Dean! Did you not read your script this morning? But Sam tells Dean that "Dad marked the area. 'Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker.'" Heh. Just try to not deliver those lines out loud yourself. It's impossible. Apparently there is "local folklore" about a dark figure grabbing people at night. The boys are both wearing funny Carhartt-type workshirts. Also, this county has "more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state." Dean nods, and then grunts, "That is weird." Dean continues to "brain"-storm, saying that phantom attackers usually take people from their beds. Um, okay, whatever you say, dude. Sam reminds him that there are "all kinds," and the camera provides a shot of some ridiculous full-skirted-woman-in-peril-from-a-pantsless-flying-demon cartoon their Dad sketched in his notebook. I'm thinking we're getting a little too close to old Dad's fantasy life here. As Sam blathers on, cut to a shot of Dean from the back, approaching the dart board, and snapping his fingers. If ONLY he would take this opportunity to keep snapping and then break out into that dance-fighting number from West Side Story, the "When You're a Jet" one. Jensen just honestly brings out the gay man inside me.
They decide that the circumstances seem suspicious enough to stick around and investigate. Sam tells Dean that he saw a motel a few miles back, and Dean whips his head around to give Sam a disgusted look as if to say, "Not so fast, mister! You haven't even complimented my dress yet!" Dean wants to stay for another round, Sam wants to "get an early start." Dean is annoyed: "You really know how to have fun, dontcha Grandma?" Hee. Dean throws one more dart, and tells Sam he'll meet him outside because he has to "take a leak." Boys.
Outside, Sam walks past a row of parked motorcycles to the musical accompaniment of sputtering cycle engines. Two enormous dudes in leather tassels shoulder past him into the bar. The dreaded dragging noises start up again, and Sam pulls out a weenie-ass flashlight to peer under a car. His weenie-ass flashlight proves to have been foreshadowing, as Sam has a weenie-ass reaction to a hissing tabby cat underneath the car. He chuckles and shakes his head. He sort of stumbles through the parking lot for no real reason, and then stops in between two cars. Cut to a shot of his feet from underneath one of the cars, and a series of brass horns farts loudly on the soundtrack.Dean comes out of the bar into the foggy parking lot. He passes the cat, now perched on the trunk of a car. Dean finds Sam's little research papers -- including their father's journal? Because Sam had that thing, and that would be problematic for them to lose -- on the trunk of the Metallicar, creaks open the driver's side door, doesn't see Sam, and then starts looking around frantically. The soundtrack is all allegro strings and I really wish Dean would do some interpretive dance here. Apparently it is now closing time because streams of bikers and other assorted working-class heroes file out of the bar. Dean accosts a man wearing a headband (yes!) and a long beard, to ask if he's been outside in the last hour or so. No dice. Dean darts to and fro, calling out, "Sam!" and "Sammy!" He looks about him until he notices security cameras trained on the lot. He then walks out into the middle of the road, for no reason other than for us to get a shot of him isolated against the dark and lonely road, and says under his breath, "Sam." Metal Teeth Chomp.