The rain-streaked Metallicar once again grumbles up outside the abandoned factory headquarters of The C. & R. Jacob Chemical Company. Dean wakes the thoroughly out-of-it Sammy with a penlight to the eyes, and when Sam wonders, "Where are we?" Dean rather seriously replies, "Well, we're not in Kansas anymore." "You might want to reconsider your earlier remark about the contents of this dear boy's closet!" Raoul suggests. Don't think that thought has not crossed my mind, my scaly friend. In any event, Dean eventually allows his stony demeanor to fall and snickers at his little joke. Sam remains singularly unamused, so Dean admits they've arrived in Illinois.
And with that, the boys disembark to follow Dean's earlier path through the company's offices, Sam all the while nagging his brother about the stupidity of traveling across the better part of two states to stumble through an abandoned warehouse until a low, feminine whimpering hits his ears. "What the hell is that?" Sam hisses, darting his eyes around. Dean orders Sam to remain behind him with his mouth shut for what follows, and the boys turn a corner off the corridor in which Dean was initially attacked to find those two dangling skeletons from Dean's closet. The camera swoops and swirls around the desiccated things -- lingering on one long enough to make note of the empty hospital blood bag still hooked up to its neck -- before smashing over to the boys' right, where they find that Woman In Filthy And Bloodstained White who's been haunting Dean all evening. The Now-Woozy Woman In Filthy And Bloodstained White whimpers and moans and jerks around a bit insensibly, drawing the attention of the tattooed genie from the top of the hour, who's been loitering inside his lair at the far end of this warehouse room the entire time, unaware of the boys' presence. Dean drags Sam behind a set of shelves, and they both watch with increasing amounts of horror as The Frigging Genie approaches The Woozy Woman In Filthy And Bloodstained White, who piteously cries out for her father. In a particularly creepy shot, her bare feet -- which scarcely reach the floor given the way she's been suspended from the ceiling -- slip around in a puddle of blood as she tries to pivot away from the tattooed monstrosity before her. Presumably, it's her own. "Eeeep!" "Sleep," The Frigging Genie suggests, activating the shimmering blue mojo on the palm of his hand, and pressing it against her face. The Woozy Woman In Filthy And Bloodstained White struggles for a moment more before complying, her head dropping forward towards her chest just as her feet stop slipping through her own bodily fluids below. And then? The Frigging Genie pops a tube out of her blood bag and starts squirting the contents into his mouth! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" I'm so happy they finally came through for you, Raoul! "So am I! Reading is terribly educational and everything, but I need my wanton acts of unrepentant violence!" As do we all, Raoul. As do we all.