Catatonic Sam's Freakish Cro-Magnon Skull, Emporium Division. Partially Reconstituted Sam slowly enters the study with Dean's trusty pearl-handled automatic at the ready to discover that somebody's gone all Goth-Girl Chic on the place for some hideous reason, what with the thousands of cobwebbed candles now blazing merrily throughout the room. Partially Reconstituted Sam eases his way into the kitchen, where he finds Lucifer's Cage Sam slouched in a chair at the table, and because I have even less of a desire to watch Jared Padalecki share the screen with himself now that we're a mere sixteen minutes and forty-three seconds away from the end of this dreadful and dreadfully misbegotten season, I'll be cutting to the chase even faster than I did before. "Hooray!" Shit. "Whatever could be the cause of such language?!" I forgot that they split this scene across the commercial break. "Rats!" Indeed. "Oh, well! [Slurp!]" Shut up, Raoul. "Hee!" So, Lucifer's Cage Sam stands and introduces himself to his partially reconstituted doppelganger, and then the METAL TEETH CHOMP! roars in to drag their equally boring asses into this episode's next commercial break, because God forbid we be allowed to get this shit over with already, and GOD. DAMMIT! "You really should consider a flagon, Demian, dear!" Trust me, hon, I'll be taking you up on that offer in exactly fifteen minutes and fifty-eight seconds. "Whee!"

Panic Room. Bobby loads a couple of Angel-Smiting Scimitars into his trusty duffel and tells Dean they've got to haul ass to Kansas immediately. Dean asks for a moment alone with The Catatonic Ginormotron, and long story short, he leaves the coordinates to Castle Crowley at Comatose Sammy's side on the off chance the oversized vegetable will wake up in time to join in on all the fun. Oh, and look at that! He even offers Jolly Green Sammy his trusty pearl-handled automatic! That's love, y'all.