Castiel was God now. And an angry God is bad.
He was fuming now, angry at Sam and Bobby, and mostly Dean.
He thought of him as useless...A baby in a trenchcoat. Well, he'd show him what it meant to be useless. Powerless.
Guess what, Dean...the former angel thought slyly, you're mine now.
When Sam returned to the motel with dinner, a salad for him, a cheeseburger with extra bacon for Dean. Dean had insisted he wasn't hungry, but Sam knew better.
He was prepared for Dean's angry complaining. His moping, his claims that they should get off their asses and figure something out.
But he wasn't prepared to see that the room was a mess, shelves turned over, the tv toppled to its side, papers scattered all around.
He definitely didn't expect the heap of Dean's...clothes moving on the floor. Setting down the food, he pulled his gun out of his pocket and set it front of him, staring at the pile in confusion as it cooed.
He quickly, carefully flicked up the rest of the clothes to see a tiny person peek his head out, clad in only a miniature version of Dean's leather in a leather jacket.
It was a baby in a leather jacket.