...snaps awake, fully dressed, atop the vermin-infested comforter of his cold and lonely twin at this week's motel room. He bolts upright to pant and heave until the camera cross-fades over to...

...a darkened and deserted warehouse somewhere remote, I'm sure. Anna paces alone through the gloom for a bit until an impossible breeze stirs the trash at her feet while an otherworldly susurration streams through the air around her head. "Who's there?" she calls out, spinning around just in time to watch as the long-unused light fixtures at the ceiling burst into cascades of bright white sparks, and when they're done, Castiel has magically materialized behind her. "Hello, Anna," he opens mildly enough in those magnificently grumbly low tones of his, and my, how I've missed him over the last three months. "He's dreamy!" Raoul shriekingly agrees, and I'd warn you to step away from my man immediately, Raoul, but My Sweet Baboo's long-awaited and much-appreciated return to the small screen has left me feeling unusually magnanimous this evening, so feel free to fawn and coo over his adorably rumpled presence to your cold-blooded heart's content. "Thanks! I will! Sigh!"

In any event, Anna, quite naturally, is far less enthused by the sudden appearance of My Sweet Baboo than Raoul and I are, and her jaw almost involuntarily tightens with rage before she grits out, "Well! If I didn't know any better, I'd say the Winchesters don't trust me!" "They do," Castiel assures her before adding, pointedly, "I don't." Heh. And as he slowly paces around her, he allows that he's confined Our Intrepid Heroes to this week's motel room because he knows from experience that if Anna escaped from that supernatural Sing Sing in the sky, she did so only with the tacit approval of her captors. Therefore, she must be up to something nefarious, and he demands -- in so many words -- that she explain herself. "I want to help!" Anna insists. "Then what are you doing with that knife?" Castiel shoots back. Busted, Anna draws the ridiculously large serrated double-edged hunting knife in question from the waistband of her jeans and lightly wonders if she's not allowed to protect herself. "That blade doesn't work against angels," Castiel scoffs, "not like this one." And with that, he directs her attention to Uriel's special Angel-Smiting Scimitar, which he'd apparently been concealing in the many folds of his trusty trenchcoat this entire time, and oh, how I loves me some crafty and proactive Castiel. "Wheeeee!" Anna, despite the air of angry bravado she's been attempting to exude since this exchange began, blanches at the sight of the thing, and when Castiel commands her to level with him, she lifts her eyes to his, composes herself as best she can, and states, "Sam Winchester has to die." DUN! Also: