The shot cuts over to the exterior of a long-disused plant that still bears its "American Meat Processing" sign on one of the walls, so yes, we are now entering an actual, honest-to-God abattoir for the endless scenes of torture to come. Oh, show. Oh, clever, clever show. "Now, Demian!" Raoul chides, and this oughta be good. "You don't know it was an actual abattoir! They could simply have been processing lunch meats! Why, just the other day I had a lovely brai..." Stop right there, my scaly friend. "Why?!" Well, for one thing, it's pretty clear from the plant's soon-to-be-seen interior -- what with its industrial drains and water pipes and, oh, meat hooks -- that they were not simply squeezing out hot dogs while the place was in operation, and for another, no one wants to hear about your dining habits. "Well, I never! And what, precisely, is wrong with my dining habits, might I ask!? I simply can't begin to imagine what on earth you could be refer..." And while Raoul prattles on like that for several more hours, I'm sure, let's jump inside to see what's happening with Dean, shall we?
That's better. Dean and Castiel stand in an antechamber, peering through a small pane of reinforced glass at Alastair, who's trussed up for slaughter in the middle of a massive and intricate devil's trap that Castiel promises is unbreakable. Dean's all, "Fascinating!" and immediately bolts for the door, but Uriel magically blocks his path for a little more of the ongoing, never-ending bitchfest between these two until Dean demands to speak to Castiel alone. Uriel's all, "Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?" but he politely enough -- well, politely enough for him -- excuses himself "to seek revelation," and as that's now sounding like a euphemism for something filthy as well, I'll be skipping ahead to get to the central points of Dean's little heart-to-heart with everyone's favorite angel. Well, after I deal with what immediately follows Uriel's fluttery off-screen departure, of course. "You guys don't walk enough," Dean jokes, turning to face Castiel. "You're gonna get flabby." Castiel peers, calmly yet uncomprehendingly, at Dean, who rolls his eyes and admits, "I'm starting to think Junkless has a better sense of humor than you do." "Uriel's the funniest angel in the garrison," Castiel nods, still calmly peering and terribly matter-of-fact about it all. "Ask anyone." Dean pulls a double-take at all the angelic cluelessness currently occupying the room. Hee. So, now that all that's out of the way, let's get down to business, shall we? "Let's!" Over your snit so soon, Raoul? "What snit?!" Never mind.