That evening, as a thunderstorm rages overhead, Darling Sammy pulls up to the address Jimmy Tomorrow gave him, and he bursts through the door unannounced with his brother's trusty pearl-handled automatic at the ready. Of course, because Jimmy Tomorrow is a LYING LIAR WHO LIES, Sam's actually burst in upon some earthy-crunchy holistic Lamaze class conducted by none other than that dizzy broad from the diner, so he has little choice but to beat a hasty and embarrassed retreat. To his credit, though, he immediately understands what's actually going on, and he calls Dean to rage about Jimmy Tomorrow's abhorrent duplicity. Or something like that. Dean would have something valuable to add to the conversation, I'm sure, were it not for the fact that Spectral Margaret's now glowering balefully at him through Melanie's front window. DUN! "Eeep!" That too, of course. God, this woman is freaking me out. "Eeep!" Oh, you poor thing.
Lily Dale Main Drag. After a tiny bit of difficulty, Darling Sammy locates Jimmy Tomorrow's seedy apartment, picks the lock, and tippy-toes through the front door to ransack the place. Barely has he found Margaret's skull adorning a makeshift altar in the living room, though, when Jimmy himself sneaks up from behind to press a loudly cocked revolver against the nape of his neck. D'OH! "Somehow," Jimmy grins, "I just knew you'd be back." The camera gets all up in Darling Sammy's grille for one tense moment before everything disappears into the all-consuming maw of this evening's next METAL TEETH CHOMP!
Lair Of Tomorrow. Immediate aftermath. Jimmy icily instructs Darling Sammy to relinquish control of Margaret Fox's much-abused skull. Sam slowly passes the thing back to his captor, but when Jimmy reaches for it, Sam somehow gets the drop on the guy, and he rips the revolver out of Jimmy's hand to snarl, "That's enough!"
Meanwhile, back at The Manse, Spectral Margaret blows out the windows. Uh oh.
Lair Of Tomorrow. Sam upends the makeshift altar and sneers, "Nice binding spell!" "Doesn't matter," Jimmy shrugs. "She helps me because she wants to." Sam goes, "Whaaaaaaaa?"
Manse Melanie. A violent breeze now whips through Melanie's tastefully appointed living room, violating the sanctity of Dashing El Deano's salt circle. Almost immediately, Spectral Margaret materializes in the middle of the floor to telekinetically fling Dean ass-over-end into the next room. DUN!