After he realized his little angelic magic trick didn't work, Zachariah searched for his missing grace but he was beginning to weaken, which made the job much harder. Does he go off on his own, or will he ask the boys for help?

The brothers smiled and turned back to Zachariah. He placed two fingers on both their foreheads and...

...nothing happened.

Dean looked around and saw that they hadn't gone anywhere. "Ok let's get this show on the road!"

Zachariah was utterly confused. This has never happened before. "I don't understand, it should have worked."

"So, what? Now we're stuck here?!"

"I don't understand..."

"Well, what the hell?!"

"Look, maggot, I don't know what's wrong, ok? I'm in just as much shock as you."

Dean started pacing the ground, almost wearing a hole in the earth as he did so. He has killed werewolves, ganked vamps, exorcised demons, and come back from the dead so many times he lost count, but he couldn't figure out a way back home. Cas was always there to pull him back to his world. However, this time Dean wasn't so sure.

Then he realized: he was doubting his friend, the angel that rebelled against everything he believed in, lost his grace, became human and died, all for Dean and Sam. He couldn't give up hope that Cas would find a way.

"Hey Dean," Shawn shouted, "does the process of departing from this earth take longer than just 'poof?'" He mimicked the action with his hands.

Dean started walking towards him, waving for Sam to follow. "We're not leaving."

"What?"

"We're not leaving. Not just yet." Pointing at Zachariah, Dean continued, "The plan was that this winged ass-monkey would zap us all home with a snap of his fingers but he failed to realize the most important detail. He's losing his grace."

Shawn and Gus exchanged confused glances. "So that means...?"

"His wings are clipped. He can't fly. Which means no sliding back home."

"What are you gonna do?" Gus asked.

"I do-I don't know, ok? I'll think of something." Remembering the loyalty of his angelic friend he said, "I'm going to call Cas."

"Yeah great idea," Zachariah scoffed, "you just pull out your full-range interdimensional cell phone and dial him up. You have one of those, right?"

Dean turned to Zachariah. "You shut the hell up. If I call, Cas will answer."

"Oh that's right, I almost forgot baby brother of mine is in love with you." He mocked.

Dean was tired of these pain-in-the-ass tree toppers. He pulled out his gun and aimed right in between Zachariah's eyes.

"Woah Dean! Put that away!" Sam yelled.

"No Sam, I can't stand the thought of this douche bag still breathing! He needs to go."

Sam noticed the panicked looks on his new friends' faces. "Dean, Woody is still in there! If you shoot, all you'll be doing is killing him. Zachariah can still use his body! Just, put the gun down."

Dean wanted to shoot Zachariah more than anything, but he knew Sam was right. Grudgingly he lowered his gun and put it away.

"Fine," Dean grumbled, "so what the hell do we do?" He turned to Sam who shook him head. He didn't have any ideas either. Out of the corner of his eye Dean could see something moving, he saw Shawn and Gus running towards them.

They were yelling something that Dean couldn't quite make out but he thought they might have said 'turn around' so he did.

"Hey!" Dean yelled. "Dammit!"

Zachariah was gone.

Laying on the ground, Zachariah was completely out of fuel. He couldn't move if his life depended on it. He had just enough power left to zap himself behind a bush so the boys couldn't see him.

"What's happening? Why aren't I as strong as I used to be?" He wondered. "I used to be the most powerful and respected angel in the Garrison. Now look at me."

He watched Dean and Sam, and the other two that were there. At this point they had noticed that he was gone, but they hadn't spotted him. He thought about asking them for help, but figured he could handle it on his own.

Almost recovered, he started to stand up. A hand grabbed his arm and yanked it upwards.

"Hey!" Shouted Zachariah, "what are you doing?" He looked up and saw a man standing next to him with a surprised look on his face. He could have sworn he had seen that face before, he just couldn't figure out where.

"Sorry buddy, I was just trying to help," the man said. He was dressed in an officer's uniform, although he didn't seem like he belonged. Maybe it was the excessive hair gel, or the constant smiling and waving, or maybe it was the way he walked. He didn't know, and honestly he couldn't care.

Now standing, Zachariah quickly walked away in search for a way to replenish his grace. The only problem was knowing where to look first.