Author's note: This is quite a short chapter but I've got a rather long one in planning. Oh, and thanks so much for the 40+ follows! I'm quite blown away by the positive reaction this has gotten!

"Basically what you're saying is that you have absolutely no plan whatsoever."

Castiel and Dean had delegated the weird 'Daniel' thing to the hunter that had previously disposed of the Leviathan. He'd looked a little weirded out at being commissioned by a demon and an angel, but he'd done a good job and the house was being sold to a pair of young men in newly-wedded bliss. They'd reached an unspoken agreement that they'd stick around for a while. Dean, on some unconscious level, wanted to try to rebuild his relationship with Cas, and Cas literally couldn't leave the hotel room and its protective environment. Dean had seen a couple of unrealistically clean figures lurking suspiciously outside the hotel; figures that never seemed to need to use the bathroom or eat or sleep. White-clad figures looking up at their hotel room.

"Basically. I just made some sort of commotion in, like, Tanzania or Laos or something that would draw Crowley's attention away and then I'd grab the souls and release them. The other angel then took them upstairs."

"Dean, I can't even leave this hotel room right now, let alone pull a soul up with me."

"I know, dude, you're kind of screwed right now."

Dean yawned and sat back in his chair, kicking back his legs.

"Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"Being human."

"Naw," Dean said quietly. "What's not to like? I don't have to sleep or eat or work out or- or anything," he stammered. "I can make little paper cranes fly around."

"Dean, you were yawning."

"Yeah, well, I'm kinda bored. Downstairs I can usually flog a few rapists-"

Cas visibly flinched.

"What I meant to say, Dean, is that you've been going through the motions. Ordering all your old 21st century foods, lying in bed at night, buying a coffee even if you don't need it."

"I like the taste," Dean grumbled.

"You hate black coffee."

"And you know that I hate black coffee." The demon regarded Cas carefully, unsure of whether to be flattered or taken aback.

"I'm sort of an expert," Cas said finally.

A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence. Cas studied his hand.

"An expert on me?"

"Yeah."

Dean's mouth twitched in amusement.

"That's either really flattering or extraordinarily creepy."

"Can we please focus on getting me out of here, Dean?" Castiel all but hissed.