Dean Winchester: God?
Castiel: Yes.
Dean Winchester: [disbelieving] God.
Castiel: Yes! He isn't in Heaven; he has to be somewhere.
Dean Winchester: Try New Mexico, I hear he's on a tortilla.
[a beat as the joke goes over Castiel's head]
Castiel: No, he's not on any flatbread.
Dean Winchester: Listen chuckles, even if there *is* a God, he is either dead, and that's the generous theory...
Castiel: He *is* out there, Dean.
Dean Winchester: ...or, he's up and kicking, and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us. I mean look around you man, the world is in the toilet! We are *literally* at the End of Days here, and he's off somewhere, drinkin' booze out of a coconut! Alright?
Castiel: Enough! This is not a theological issue, it's strategic. With God's help, we *can* win.
Dean Winchester: It's a pipe dream, Cas.
Castiel: [advancing, furious] I killed two angels this week. Those are my brothers. I'm hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for *you*, and you failed. You and your brother *destroyed* the *world*, and I lost everything... for nothing.
[pause, Dean and Sam look uncomfortable]
Castiel: So keep... your *opinions*... to yourself.