By the time Dean got back from the bathroom, Castiel and Sam were geeking out about something. Sometimes he forgot that while it was every day business for Hunters to be around angels, the rest of the populace rarely had the opportunity.

"So you just pop up, just like that? Anywhere?" Sam asked, his eyebrows climbing towards his hairline for escape.

"Yes, although it is very rare to actually be present for an angel birth as they pop up, as you say, wherever our Father has seen fit to place them," the angel explained.

"Wait what the hell?" Dean asked before he realized he'd opened his mouth. "So there could just be a bunch of babies crawling around out in the middle of nowhere because no one's found them yet?"

Castiel stared at him with wide blue eyes. "I... I'm sure that our Father places them in locations where they would be easily discovered."

"Well why the hell doesn't he just place them in a house or hell even a hospital?" Dean slammed the container of piss onto the plastic countertop since the doctor wasn't anywhere to be seen. Even humans had the decency to drop of their abandoned children on doorsteps and fire stations. And they weren't omniscient beings of limitless power.

"Dean," Sam started, but Dean shut him up with a hard glare.

"Angels fledglings are much hardier than human children," Castiel explained, though he was looking down at his own hands. "You should not equate our heavenly Father with your earthly one."

His brain ground to a halt before starting up again at double speed. A slew of defenses crowded their way to the forefront. Dad had always been busy, chasing down demons. He was one of the best Hunters they'd ever seen. And he only ever left them at gas stations and libraries. And that one time at a morgue. And he always meant to come back for them. And most of the time he left them with some money. It was nothing like abandoning a baby in the middle of the woods to fend for itself.

The angel stared at him, head tilted slightly to one side, brows drawn together. It looked a lot like pity. "Stop reading my mind!"

"I am not reading your mind," Castiel told him. "I am simply reading the emotions displayed by your soul. You have a very beautiful soul, Dean."

Dean wasn't sure if that was meant to be a compliment. The delivery was so clinical. It made him uncomfortable, like the angel was seeing him in his underwear. Which he didn't have on. He seriously needed to get his clothes back.

"Where's the doc?" he asked because there was no way in hell he was replying to Castiel.

"You mean Doctor Moseley and she is right here." Somehow the short plump woman was more terrifying than the angel who could probably snap his neck with little more than a thought. But then again Castiel with his tattered wings and messy hair was probably the least intimidating angel he'd ever met.

"So am I a free man yet or would you like me to give you some more of my bodily fluids?"

"Well, it couldn't hurt to take a blood and stool sample." Sam was wearing his stupid girly smile.

"Stop teasing your brother, Sam Winchester." Dean grinned at Sam's cowed expression. Serves the sasquatch right. "I'll need you," Missouri said as she turned back to Dean, "to sign these discharge forms and you'll be free as a bird."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean said emphatically as he scribbled his name onto the x-marked lines.

As he was flipping to the last page, Castiel stretched out his wings and with a light gust of wind, he was gone.

"Well goodbye to you too, Dorothy," Dean snorted. Freaking angel needed to learn some common human courtesy. A sudden flare of annoyance brought a scowl to his face when he realized they hadn't even discussed their working arrangement or exchanged contact information. Not to mention they still hadn't bothered to acknowledge the pink elephant in the room.

Missouri took the paperwork and left him in the room so he could change. Sam turned his back and studied the artwork on the wall. It was an abstract depiction of a man with a plow. Or a man with a tiny car. He couldn't be sure. His clothes were folded neatly on the countertop and after he dressed he realized that this wasn't the uniform he'd been wearing.

"Dude, where's my Greens?"

"Everything you came in with is in that bag over there," Sam nodded towards a giant ziplock on a chair. Dean recognized his pants, boxers, and pair of socks.

He groaned when he realized the rest of his clothing must still be in Michael's office. He only had two uniform jackets and the vest wasn't even his. Ellen would rip him a new one if she found out he'd lost it.

"I've got to drop by Central first, but then we're going out for burgers. My treat." Dean grabbed his things and led them out of the room. Just as he crossed the threshold, however, a flurry of wings ended with Castiel looking mortified and Dean with a mouthful of feathers.

"I apologize. I assumed you would still be in the room," the angel said, his wings tightening against his back.

"So you're still here?" Dean grunted, spitting out stray down and swiping his hand through his hair. The feathers were surprisingly soft.

"Ah, I only left to get dressed," Castiel explained, and sure enough, he was now sporting the regulation Greens and a battered old trench coat. The medical bracelet, however, still hung around his wrist. Dean twisted his own on his finger, but the tight plastic wouldn't yield. "Your car is not here," Castiel stated and Dean cursed himself for not thinking of that sooner. If they hadn't thought to bring his clothes, they sure as hell hadn't brought the Impala.

"Sam," he turned to his brother. "You have a car here?"

"No, I took a cab."

Dean groaned and rubbed his face.

"I will provide transport," Castiel said, nodding once to himself, a small smile on his lips.

The last time Dean rode Angel Air he'd gotten well acquainted with various medications whose names ended in "-lax." He wasn't eager to repeat the experience.

"No, that's okay. We can just call a cab."

The change in Castiel's expression was immediate and devastating. Eyes widened, lips quivered, and shoulder slumped. Even the great white wings dragged against the ground. Dean had been conditioned for twenty-two years by Sam to respond to the sad puppy expression with immediate acquiescence.

"I um," he cleared his throat. Except no, this was the angel who shoved his stupid Grace, his stupid Grace which still burned inside of him like an itch that he couldn't scratch, and then left him to deal with it on his own. Sure the guy sounded just as surprised as he was when he was told but still. It was like forcing someone to eat your arm and then forget you'd done it. How do you even not notice a chunk of your Grace is gone?

Now Castiel just looked alarmed and Sam's face seemed to be trying to make three different expressions at once.

"You are angry with me," the angel stated, not bothering to hide the fact that he was rooting around in Dean's head. Again.

"I have to get to Michael's office and then I am getting some real food with my brother who can't be bothered to see me unless I'm dying. But then you are going to tell me what the hell is going on. Capiche?"

"I see," the angel replied. "I will transport you now." Before Dean could protest, Castiel had grabbed his arm and with a sharp lurch he found himself swaying in the hallway just outside Michael's door.

"Warn a guy!" he growled, leaning against the wall for balance before knocking on the door twice.

It took a moment before a muffled "Leave!" came through the wooden door.

"Uh, Michael? It's Dean Winchester. I just need to pick up my uniform and vest from your office."

There was scuffling, and indeterminate voices before the door opened a few inches. Dean caught a glimpse of candlelight and incense before a bundle of clothing dropped to the ground and the door was closed again with a loud slam.

"Um, thanks," Dean bent down to grab his things. They smelled terrible, and it took only a moment for the hunter to recognize the telltale odor of sulfur.