In any event, Dean plows through the Wide Wide World Of Web searching for the cases they've dealt with over the last two years, only to discover that each one of them ended badly for everyone involved because Our Intrepid Heroes were not there to save the day. The kiddies in Fitchbu/erg? Dead. The parents of all those mouth-breathing morons in Medford and Mishicot? Ditto, along with poor little boring Tyler Thompson in Cornwall, Connecticut. As Dean attempts to process the implications of all this, a shadowy figure shoots past the corner of his eye into the apartment's bedroom. Dean leaps out of his chair to give chase, only to find nothing amiss. Well, nothing amiss until he hears a suspicious creaking in the closet, of course. And no, it's not his repressed sexual orientation, but it is pretty damn close: A couple of decaying corpses strung up by their rotting hands to dangle from the ceiling. Geddit? Skeletons in Dean's closet? Oh, show. Oh, clever, clever show. Dean stares at them in horror until The Woman In Now-Filthy White's reflection snaps into focus in the closet door's mirror. He spins around to find her now looking a lot worse for the wear -- a gash in her forehead, bloodstains on her blouse, scabs around her mouth -- and what's more, she buzzes and blinks and flickers in and out before vanishing completely. Once she's gone, a visibly rattled Dean turns slowly back around to face the closet. It's empty, too.

Thunder again rumbles ominously overhead, this time above a nighttime cemetery, and oh, crap. I was going to mock this, really -- especially the part where that pussy Dean allows not one, but two perfect tears to drop from his eyes during the soliloquy he addresses to his father's headstone on the nature of duty and sacrifice and how much it sucks to be a Winchester because of said duty and sacrifice -- but upon rewatching it about four times, I have to admit that Jensen Ackles really does sell the hell out of it all, so I'm going to give it a pass. Long story short, Dean realizes he must hunt down the genie again, this time to force the thing to reverse his wish, not only to ensure the well-being of all those he and his family had helped in the past, but also so he and Sam can find and save the Woman In Filthy And Now-Bloodstained White who's been haunting this perfect world of his. And with the burden of all that responsibility once again pressing down on his shoulders, Dean trudges off into the CHOMP-less commercial break accompanied only by a sole, mournful violin. Sniff. "You're just as much of a wimp as he is!" Oh, shush.