This Week's Motel Room. Our Intrepid Heroes, thoroughly spooked by their excellent adventure, are preparing to salve their tormented souls with healing amounts of tasty booze when My Sweet Baboo suddenly pops in from the past, decidedly worse for wear. "You made it!" Castiel's earthbound boyfriend exults as he and Sam quickly grab the injured angel's arms so My Sweet Baboo doesn't wobble himself all the way into a face-plant on the floor. "I did!" Castiel woozily agrees with Dean before adding, "I'm very surprised." Hee. The boys haul Castiel's soon-to-be unconscious ass over to one of the beds, where they let him pass out before returning to their cocktails. "Well, this is it," Dean sighs, pouring out the whiskey for a toast. "Team Free Will: One ex blood-junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, and Mr. Comatose over there -- it's awesome!" "It's not funny," Sam prisses. "I'm not laughing," Dean shrugs. And I'm just going to pretend the scene ends right there, where it should, rather than thirty long seconds later, during which The Ginormomope moans about his miserable, wretched, and horrible life. Next!

And it's a FLASHBACK! Lawrence, Kansas, late 1978. Unburnt Mary, by now well into her third trimester, stands with Doable John in Impending Dean's future nursery, patting her distended belly while enthusing about some bit of nursery paraphernalia she managed to snag at a garage sale for only 25 cents. "You really don't think it's just a little cheesy?" Doable John asks, wincing at the object in question, which remains off-screen for the moment. "I think it's sweet," Unburnt Mary simpers, snuggling up against her extraordinarily beautiful husband for a cuddle as the camera reverses to take in what they're talking about, and it's a creepy little hand-painted ceramic angel figurine with the dead-eyed face of a serial killer. "Eeeeep!" shrieks Raoul, for creepy little hand-painted ceramic angel figurines with the dead-eyed faces of serial killers frighten him almost as much as preadolescent girls do. "It's true!" In any event, Unburnt Mary murmurs that she isn't sure why she's grown so attached to the tchotchke, but she has, and the two of them get all schmoopy and whatnot for a bit until Doable John scampers off to do something manly, like plumbing. Thus left alone in the nursery, Unburnt Mary starts a little bit when Impending El Deano nails her spleen with a particularly vigorous kick, and she gently admonishes her frisky fetus before cooing, "It's okay, baby, it's all okay." She gazes at the figurine one more time and smiles, "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!"