The room was trashed. Casa Erotica was frozen on the television, the floor was covered with trash and the sheets on the bed were covered with stains and fluids.

Cautiously Sam advanced on the bathroom, alerted by the sound of hacking growls from behind the bathroom door.

Pushing the door open, he was greeted by a pair of inflamed green eyes and a surprised gasp.

Then a violent spasm sent Dean diving for the toilet again.

At last, breathing hard, he resurfaced and offered Sam a weak grin.

"So. Jagermeister and peyote, not a good mix," he croaked. "Who knew?"