So, while Raoul toddles off to whip himself up a few flagons' worth of the healing booze, where the hell was I, again? Oh, yes: This boring scene, in which Crazy Sammy -- oh-so-subtly lit in shades of Hellish red, thanks to the exit light above his head -- and Depressing El Deano -- oh-so-subtly lit in shades of Heavenly white thanks to the fluorescent above his own -- snipe at each other through the peep-hole bars. Yawn. Long story short, Sam's outraged that Dean's "actually trying to twist this into some kind of ridiculous drug intervention" (and try recapping it, SAM), which leads Dean to reply, utterly without sense, "If it smells like a duck!" and Dean, honey, if you're wandering around sniffing at the waterfowl, you've got way deeper issues than your brother, here, but that's not important right now. What is important, apparently, is that Crazy Sammy's "not drinking the demon blood for kicks." "I'm getting strong enough to kill Lilith!" he argues. Crazily, of course. Dean, ever the witty one, quickly counters that Crazy Sammy is, in fact, "weak," "desperate," and "pathetic," and this is going nowhere fast, so would you excessively attractive young gentlemen get to the point, already? They ignore my reasonable request, likely because there's no point to be had in this scene, but after Dean congratulates Crazy Sammy on the latter's having earned himself "a bench-warmer's seat to The Apocalypse," he does do me the favor of shutting the peep-hole and trudging wearily up the stairs into this evening's first METAL TEETH CHOMP!, so that's something, right? Right? Oh, never mind.