Kevin lets them in as Dean explains that they've managed to get hold of Crowley's half of the Demon Tablet. "It's the light at the end of your tunnel, kid," Dean says. Kevin takes the tablet and immediately dives back into figuring out the next trial. "We can finally close the Gates of Hell on Crowley's ass forever!" Sam wastes no time in not-so-subtly trying to get Kevin to dig up the other half of the tablet, but Kevin says he doesn't need to. Sam seems none too pleased about this, but tries not to show it. "Keep your nose to the God stone, Special-K," he says. He says some other stuff, but Kevin is already too deeply engrossed in his work to pay attention.
As Sam and Dean leave the houseboat and walk towards the screen, the backdrop behind them goes all wibbly. Sam and Dean turn into guys who are not Sam and Dean, and only resemble the Winchesters in that they are both ostensibly male and maintain the relative heights of the originals. They walk through a tattered movie screen and into a decrepit theater that is standing in this week for the more common factory or warehouse. It is serving as Crowley's literal staging area, where his demonic minions study a bank of monitors as if going over fresh dailies. Crowley sits in the director's chair amid the graffitied ruins of the theater. "So it's three trials and the Winchesters get to lock the door on me," Crowley muses. He has some notes on his demonic actors' performances: "You, fake Sam, if you tip our hand, I'm gonna have to scrub Kevin's short-term memory again, and that's risky, so watch the patois in there." Fake Sam has no idea what that means, so Crowley has to explain that it's his choice of slang. "That's the way Dean speaks," Crowley says. "Sam is..." Here, he searches for the right words. Finally: "...more basic, more sincere." Crowley has spent too much time thinking about the Winchesters. "I want two distinct, authentic performances," he says, waving them back to their work. He lets out a long, self-satisfied sigh and says, "I was born to direct." Ready... set... fiery title card!
At the Lair O' Letters, Sam huddles at the map table, a green woolen blanket pulled around his shoulder like a cape, looking like the world's biggest, saddest, sickest Hobbit. Dean went looking for something to do in the back half of this season and comes back with a tray laden with food, which he sets down with care in front of Samwise. "Here we go - John Winchester's famous cure-all kitchen sink stew," he says. "Enough cayenne pepper to burn your lips off, just like dad used to make." Sam nudges the tray away without so much as a "thanks," because he coughed out all his manners sometime during his last bout of trialberculosis. He even looks a bit annoyed, as the tray is blocking his view of whatever papers he's studying. "You want me to do the whole airplane thing with the spoon?" Dean asks, picking up said spoon and giving it a tantalizing wave. Sam just frowns up at him and goes back to his studies, so Dean drops the spoon and decides he's going to stop coddling people who don't want to be coddled. Or maybe he just pesters Sam about not eating for three days. He's probably keeping track of Sam's bathroom schedule, too, but he doesn't give voice to such. Instead, he takes out a digital thermometer and advances on his brother.