Castiel, somewhat recovered from his earlier ass-kicking, is naturally horrified at what he's just witnessed, but there's no time for that, for they've got to deliver Dean's battered body to the hospital, which is where we next find him, propped up in a bed in a medically induced coma while a respirator does his breathing for him. Sam anguishes over his brother's unconscious form for a moment before storming out into the hall to demand a miracle from the miraculously healed Castiel, but the angel can't do that. Sam, enraged, shouts, "You and Uriel put him in there because you can't keep a simple devil's trap together!" "This whole thing was pointless!" he continues. "The demons aren't doing the hits -- something else is killing your soldiers!" I love it when Sam gets shouty. Woof. "Perhaps Alastair was lying," Castiel quietly suggests, struggling to maintain his otherworldly equanimity under Sam's relentless -- and relentlessly tantalizing -- assault. "No!" Sam spits back immediately, with the certainty that comes only from sucking the blood out of your undead girlfriend's arm. "He wasn't!" And with that, The Corpse-Sucking Anti-Christ Ginormotron spins on his heel to flounce back into Nearly Dead Dean's room, leaving Castiel alone with his -- wait for it -- doubts.