At the museum, Dean learns the history of the Two Rivers people from one of its own. The land was nigh uninhabitable back in the day, but their leader insisted they stay. "He claimed that this is the home on Earth of the Great Spirit's sacred messenger," he says, "and that if they made offerings, their blessings would be many." Dean listens to all this and asks, "What were the offerings?" The tour guide is a little confused at first, like nobody's ever asked him that. Maybe the museum doesn't get any more visitors than the hotel does. "He asked the people to tell him stories," the guide says. As Dean pokes around the museum, he comes across a badly Photoshopped picture that is probably supposed to pass for a daguerreotype. One of the men in the picture looks vaguely like the hotel manager. Musical stings signify that this is Very Meaningful, but it would probably make more sense to assume it's an ancestor since it doesn't look exactly like the manager. "I bet I know what the blessings were," Dean says. Not Photoshop skills, that's for sure.
Meanwhile, Sam looks like he's just pooped himself or is very near to doing so. With considerable effort, he flings himself out of bed and stumbles into the hallway outside his room. His vision goes shaky and he hears that buzzing, ringing sound again. Man, someone really needs to vacuum that hallway. I don't care if you haven't had guests in seven years, it's just gross to let that much dust pile up. Sam squeezes himself into an alcove when he hears the elevator doors open. He can sort of make out the hotel manager dropping off a stack of boxes outside one of the rooms. Sam waits until the coast is clear, then tears into one of the boxes. It's full of bubble wrap! Joyous bubble wrap! And also books. Sinister music plays. Maybe they're eeeevil books. Sam stumbles back to his room and fishes his phone out of his pocket. He manages to call Dean, but passes out before he can say anything.
You know who else is having a rough time? Castiel, that's who. The angel who isn't Ion is currently doing his best to ugly up Castiel's face. It's not an easy task. Ion returns to tell everyone that he hasn't found the Angel Tablet at any of the other restaurants. Naomi tries to appeal to Castiel's sense of duty: "Let us put the tablet back where it should be." He shakes his head. "I need to protect it," he says. "From all of us." Naomi decides it's time to get serious with the torture, but the sound of gunfire interrupts her. The angel who isn't Ion goes down in a spray of blood and angelic light. Another gunshot and Ion is winged; the wound in his arm glows as if he'd been stabbed by an All-Purpose Angel Sword. Naomi is aghast to see Crowley holding the offending firearm.