WHERE THE HELL WAS DEAN?! He couldn't have been taken so quickly without a trace of magic! Just before Sam gave in to the idea of asking an angel or demon to find his brother, the door to the room's small bathroom was jolted open. Dean waltzed through, nudging the door with his hip so that he didn't touch the germ-infested surface directly, and raised an eyebrow at his brother's gaping, fish out of water expression. "Goddammit, Dean, you almost gave me an ulcer!" Sam snapped as Dean shrugged, feigning innocence. "Dude, those paper bags aren't clothes. I needed to change."

Dean's own clothes were stained with blood, dirt and what looked like the remnants of an apple pie, and Sam was surprised they hadn't been thrown out by hospital staff. "You're going to try and leave the hospital dressed like that?" the taller brother complained, shaking his head, "I brought you a change of clothes, you know, for if you would have waited instead of going into panic mode every time you wake up in a hospital." The words had little bite, but Sam's begrudging understanding was challenged when Dean rolled his eyes.

"Sammy. Cas needs us right now and I'm not gonna waste time on clean clothes while that demon has his hands on him." Dean fumed, snatching up the coffee cups and holding the lighter one back out to Sam. "Drink up and let's get moving," he ordered. Sam didn't miss the shake in his older brother's hands as he struggled to hold himself still.

The older Winchester absently scratched at a particularly large patch of dried apple pie goo on his jacket when Sam took his coffee. Dean immediately downed at least a third of his own cup in a single motion before wincing and rubbing at the part of his right hand that he could reach through the splint.

When he caught Sam watching him, though, he complained, "This coffee's harsh, man, might as well be drinking caffeinated dirt." Dean would probably swallow a few aspirin on the drive but otherwise refuse to acknowledge his injuries. Though he wanted to heave a sigh and lecture the green-eyed hunter, Sam managed to hold off, giving him an understanding look. "Alright, Dean. I guess we'll get rid of the wards and find Camael on the way out?"

Dean's jaw was set, and his muttered response was made through gritted teeth. "Unless she can find Cas faster'n we can, I'm not lookin' for her. She hasn't done anything to help us or prove we can trust her. Hell, for all we know she's the reason Cas is gone!" Sam gripped his brother's shoulder, stopping his path to the door, and only let go when he stopped trying to shrug him off. "Come on, Dean," he sighed, scrubbing at the anti-angel trap on the window with a wet compress, "you know better than that. I get that you're worried about Cas, we both are, but he's not just our friend. He's Camael's brother too. And she got me here to find you, plus she's probably able to sense his grace-"

"Alright, enough with the convincing. Just grab the angel or call her or something and let's get out of here before anything more craptastic can happen," Dean demanded, already pulling open the door and glancing out into the hallway. When it was clear, he led the way down the hall and to a stairwell while Sam kept an eye out for Camael or anyone who might ask questions. Sam didn't point out that Dean hadn't packed or demanded food, they had no car and the angel they had access to didn't carry a blade.

Things were tensely quiet until they got to the ground floor, where a fleet of gurneys and pounding feet were ferrying the victims of what the two overheard was a bus crash just off the highway. Dean had a fierce glimmer in his eye that Sam recognized as vengeful hope for the lead that the tragedy could be. He wanted it to be a clue as well, but the thoughtless hate on his brother's face concerned him. Sure, Cole probably deserved to die for the things he'd already done, but Sam didn't want Dean to draw on his time in hell in order to torture him. He also didn't want the path to the demon to be paved in dead innocents.

In the chaos of rushing bodies, one doctor stood stock still against the wall beside the main entrance, watching silently over the procession until the Winchesters appeared. Her white lab coat was pristine where it was wrapped tightly around her torso, concealing the clothing beneath, but there were blonde strands of hair littering the collar and shoulders, and the sleeves were rumpled. The hard set of her green eyes behind a familiar pair of glasses fixed on Sam and Dean, and she nodded almost imperceptibly in their direction. When the brothers walked through the front doors, she followed a beat behind.

"Umm, Camael?" Sam questioned, glancing from the brother who was speed-walking and ignoring anything behind him to the short blonde woman. The angel raised an eyebrow at him before nodding again. "I had to jump ship," she explained, cracking her neck, "I haven't been able to find my next true vessel since I lost the last one, but since I've been losing some steam they've started to last longer before rejecting me. Irene will recover." The nametag pinned to her labcoat read 'Doctor Marie Ellison,' so Sam assumed she was talking about her previous vessel. He hated to think of the vessels being burned through like Lucifer's, even if they would heal over time.

"Right..." He nodded dumbly before returning his attention to the hair on the angel's shoulders and what remained on her head. "Did you cut that yourself?" he asked, squinting a bit at the close-cropped, asymmetrical style that fit with Dean's 'hipster' description. It was really unprofessional and looked like it had been done in a hurry. "I don't like hair to touch my neck or shoulders, so I removed it," the angel explained. "Marie won't mind, I think." Sam ran his fingers through the long hairs on his neck, chuckling, "I actually like mine longer nowadays. It reminds me that time's passing, and-"

"Let's just paint each other's nails and share tampon stories, why don't we?!" Dean snapped, turning sourly on his heel to glare at his companions. "We need transportation, Sam, and unless short, scruffy and flightless can still fed-ex us around that means we need to find a car, fast." As much as Sam hated it, Dean wasn't going to come out of crisis mode any time soon and everyone around him would have to adjust to the fast-paced, no-sleep slogging that would get them to their goal mostly in one piece.

"Why don't we take the Impala?" Camael questioned, pushing up the glasses that were too large on the new vessel's thin nose. "It should be repaired soon." The elder Winchester gave her a look of disbelief, and he complained, "How are you gonna fix her when your batteries are too empty to get us anywhere?" The angel rolled her eyes and pulled a cell phone from her- Marie's- pocket, wagging it in a smug fashion. "I called in a favor to a brother who stayed topside after the fall. He promised to have the car ready by six, which passed while your brother was still waiting on you to get up. So, want me to take a look at that gimpy wrist, or do I get to drive?"

Dean's glare could kill. No one drove the Impala without his express trust and permission. That trust would be a little closer when his baby was returned unharmed, but he was still in no mood to become buddies with an angel whose job it was to murder people, divine judgement notwithstanding. At least she wasn't talking like a thesaurus anymore. Silently he held out his arm, letting Camael unwrap the splint and grip his wrist as though checking his pulse for a moment.

A few seconds later he pulled away, shaking his hand like he'd been burned, and glared at Camael again. "What the hell was that for?" The angel chuckled and gave him a brow-raised 'you know what that was for' look, answering, "They didn't set the bone right and I didn't feel that until I'd healed it once, so I had to rebreak it and heal again... Next time quit being a bitch about everything. I'm being nice because you're Castiel's favorite, but watch yourself."

Sam had kept his distance during the spat, wishing the angel whom Camael had called would show up with the Impala so they could get on the road, but he heard her words. "I'm pretty sure the favoritism is mutual," he complained, referring to his constant state of third-wheeling the dynamic duo. He expected Dean to defend himself snappily, and true to form hunter griped, "The guy's like an all-powerful puppy, Sam, it's not favoritism to be more concerned about the guy who's liable to get himself killed saving a bird or thinking twice about ganking somebody."

Neither the younger hunter nor the short angel said anything for a long moment, though Sam was holding back a laugh, and when Camael broke the silence it was curt. "The Chevrolet has arrived."

Dean practically gave himself whiplash turning to follow the green-eyed stare, and he rushed over to inspect his baby for scratches or dents while his companions looked on with varying levels of resignation. A scruffy man in a black t-shirt and jeans shuffled over to where the onlookers stood, pulling Camael in for what looked like an unwanted hug. She merely patted her brother's back lightly, stepping away as quickly as possible to look over the bearded, dark-eyed vessel. "Well met, Jhudiel. I see you still have an affinity for nacho chips," she observed, wrinkling her nose at the unkempt, stained clothing he was wearing.

"Helps me fit in," Jhudiel chuckled, "and I have to say, humans know a thing or two about salt." Sam was hovering awkwardly, trying not to be the third wheel in the sibling reunion or his brother's car investigation. He was startled when Camael took his arm and quite literally dragged him into the conversation. She seemed eager to get her brother to talk to someone else. "Jhudiel, this is Samuel Winchester. Samuel, my brother Jhudiel. He was one of the later Archangels who, like myself, is often excluded from theology, until he decided to stay on Earth after the fall. He chose to become a Cherubim, and he owns a..."

The angel trailed off, expression souring as she came up with the proper word, "... speed dating bar." Jhudiel nodded proudly, adding, "It's a lot more rewarding than all the bureaucratic nonsense going on upstairs."

"Right," Sam muttered, looking to where Dean was inspecting the interior of the Impala. "I think we should get going, or Dean's going to drive off without us. It was nice to meet you though, uh, Judiel." The bearded angel snatched Sam's hand and pumped it in a rough handshake, replying, "Likewise, Mister Winchester. We hear a lot about your family over angel radio... good work."

With a nod to Sam, Camael pulled her brother aside, out of earshot, and started speaking to him in a muttered tone. He wasn't really trying to eavesdrop, but he caught a frightened look on the Cherubim's face, followed by a whisper that looked like, "He hasn't," before they really went quiet. The blonde angel nodded and turned away, the stern glare ever present behind her lenses, as her brother attempted to offer a parting hug.

In another moment, Jhudiel was gone, and Camael heaved a loud sigh. "What, you don't like to see your relatives except at the holidays?" Sam joked on his way to the passenger's side of the car. "No. I don't speak to many angels unless we have business, and I'm not an advocate of affection, familial or otherwise." She shrugged out of the white labcoat, shaking off the blonde hairs and dorito crumbs, and Sam noted that she was wearing her old outfit with the purple striped vest despite it being almost too small for the slightly taller new vessel.

"You really don't have more normal clothes, do you?" he sighed, buckling into his seatbelt as Dean hit the gas. Camael was silent, but he could see her grumpy expression in the rear-view mirror as she fumbled with one of the belts for the back seat and tried not to slide into the door while Dean was turning out of the parking lot.

Sam had almost thought that Dean wouldn't want to drive the Impala. He himself still felt a sickening lurch at images of the accident, and he was trying not to look at places that had been bloody or damaged when the news had shown the battered car earlier. He wasn't really sure how the Cherubim had gotten the Impala away without making a scene, but he was grateful that Dean seemed to retain a bit of normality thanks to it.

"First things first," Dean announced, "Where the hell are we going?" Sam's heart sank... sure, the accident was nearby, and they could check where that bus had crashed, but if they wanted to find Castiel they needed more than a hunch.

"Did somebody ring hell?" came a familiar voice from the back seat. Dean floored the brakes and whipped around while Sam was already staring. Camael had a hand around the demon's neck before either brother could stop her, and they may have waited a few seconds longer than strictly necessary to say that he wasn't an enemy, strictly speaking. "Well, Moose, Not Moose, and Very Not Moose," the king of hell coughed, "as much as I hoped you'd replace good old Cas, I'm afraid I've received a little news that makes me think your Spartan here isn't an intern."

"What news?" Dean demanded before either of his passengers could react. Crowley's prideful smirk was in place, assuring the hunters that the information would cost them. "I happened to hear through the grapevine," the demon answered, deliberately ignoring the fuming, green-eyed hunter in the driver's seat, "that an enterprising bastard among my flock has taken to making deals with heaven's little soldiers." He spared a glance for Camael, who looked ready to smite him then and there, before continuing.

"Specifically, my informant told me that a newcomer to hell's little family, Cole Aaron, was hired by an angel to round up our little Christmas tree-topper." Crowley's expression was calculated, but his lips twitched when no one in the car looked surprised to hear the name. "Come now, I'll think you boys are cheating on me," he jested, "but to business, before Squirrel has an aneurysm... I'm offering you the location of the insufferable rat, on the condition that when you find him, you take a certain book from his ill-gotten library and bring it to me."

If Sam had to guess, the book in question would be something that could be used against the hunters or angels, but he didn't think Dean would bother trying to trick Crowley into giving the information away or bargaining when Cas' life was on the line. He was wrong.

"If you think we're gonna promise some book we haven't even seen and go somewhere just because you say that's where the guy is..." Dean shook his head firmly. "You're coming with us, and you can get the book yourself... OR we can leave you with the 'Spartan' while we go get everything." The demon rolled his eyes, and Sam hoped he knew that Dean wasn't going to back down. "Fine, we'll have a merry little band," Crowley grumbled, "but I get first pick of anything else he's keeping in that place of his... excepting, of course, your wife, Squirrel."

Dean's glare wasn't severe enough to make Crowley reword his sentence. After a moment, he continued, "Simmer down and drive Dean. It's a long way to Florida."

It was silent except for the roar of the engine.