...and we're back. As efficient crime-scene techs scoop up evidence, Darling Sammy towers gape-faced and distressed above a cluster of fluttery eyewitnesses while inside the store, smoove El Deano's laying the smarm on thick for the benefit of a shell-shocked sales assistant. Oh, did I say "smarm"? "You did!" Oops. I meant something far more complimentary, I'm sure. "LIAR! Hee!" Sam interrupts the festivities, and there follows an insipid little scenelet between the brothers in which pissypants bitchface Sam makes clear his disdain for slutty El Deano's deal-induced desire to nail as many shell-shocked sales assistants as he can while slutty El Deano guilts pissypants bitchface Sam into shutting up about the whole thing because slutty El Deano, after all, has only a year to live, and thank CHRIST Bobby saunters over at this point in a spiffy-looking suit to relate what he discovered while posing as an assistant district attorney, because I now want to beat both Sam and Dean with a stick until they are dead. Thanks for nothing, show. In any event, and long story short, Bobby's convinced Jawzilla's not possessed, partly because he spilled a little holy water on her just to make sure, and partly because the desiccated Dallas fans plus Jawzilla beating a woman to death over a pair of lime-green high-heeled Crocs most certainly indicates something demonic's afoot, but mainly because he...read the spoilers? Figured out the episode title? I don't know, and I don't particularly care, because the BORING's just cost me another fifty million brain cells, and I just want this over with. So, the gents retire to the store's security office to peruse footage of the taste-free and snotty brunette's final moments on the planet, in the process discovering the existence of The Envious Suburbanite, because for some reason this show's decided to fuck around with its already-established demonology and the security camera, instead of buzzing and flickering and blinking on and off at the crucial moment, instead offers them all a strikingly clear image of the guy's face. WHATEVER.
Outside, the guys split up for whatever reason, and Sam takes off down the sidewalk on his own, thereby allowing...the mysterious and slender blonde to follow him for nearly half a block! Darling Sammy, with his enhanced zombie senses, is of course immediately aware of her presence behind him, but when he spins to confront her, she's vanished. DUN!
Some time later that evening -- "seven past midnight," in fact -- Bobby and Dean are parked in the Chevelle outside The Old Terminal Pub, casing the joint because The Envious Suburbanite quaffs a few at the bar on a regular basis, apparently. The two startle when mischievous Zombie Sam bangs on the Chevelle's roof, and after he somehow manages to fold all fifteen feet of his enormous revenant self into the back seat, Sam reveals what he's learned: The Envious Suburbanite is actually one "Walter Rosen," who disappeared from his suburban cul-de-sac with the fabulous view about a week ago, which Dim Dean correctly understands is the same time that damned door to Hell opened up in Wyoming. There's some blathering that follows about none of the three fully understanding the fearsome nature of what, precisely, escaped from the underworld, but that's not important, because Wally Rosen has just now vanished inside the bar. Rash Dean heedlessly demands they follow immediately to confront him, but Bobby tiredly reminds him -- again, some more -- that they don't know what they're dealing with, and that they'll sit tight until they have a better idea what's going on. Cue the arrival of Isaac and Tamara, simply to fuck with Bobby's perfectly reasonable plan. Yes, the bumbling, bungling marrieds we've never seen before and shall never see again after this evening is over motor on up to the pub and waltz right in. "Dammit!" Bobby mutters.