And that he does, first confirming his suspicions by finding those reddish smears Sam mentioned just below The Little Bastard's bedroom window, then by -- yes -- sticking his fingers into the crap to figure out that it's actually red dirt. Having spotted a pile of red dirt near the top of the hour as he entered Morning Hill, he pumps his stumpy little bowlegs back to the Impala, hops into the driver's seat next to Sam, and tears off towards the last remaining house to be completed in the development. Once there, Our Intrepid Heroes split up, and while Sam pulls lengthy amounts of flashlight-fu on the upper floors, Dean quickly descends into the basement, where he finds all of the children -- including his supposed bastard -- properly locked into tiny little cages as all children should be. "Absolutely!" Unfortunately, Dean disagrees with our perfectly respectable ideas regarding proper parenting, and assures The Little Bastard that he'll have all of them sprung in no time.
Meanwhile, upstairs, The Red-Headed Step-Realtor confronts Darling Sammy. Sam's eyes dart across a nearby sheet of glass that just happens to catch The Realtor's reflection and...she's a soul-sucking Changeling just like the little ones! Only, you know, bigger. With a crappier wig. Sam hems and haws and winces and gulps his remarkably broad-shouldered way into an immensely grateful METAL TEETH CHOMP! I think the METAL TEETH CHOMP! is a Samgirl.
Back from the break, Darling Sammy's still hemming and hawing and wincing and gulping while The Demonic Red-Headed Step-Realtor threatens to call the cops.
Down in the basement, The Great Ankle-Biter Breakout Of 2007 continues apace. Dean is most disturbed, however, to find the real Red-Headed Step-Realtor occupying one of the cages. That doesn't fit the plan!