Dean had left Sam back in Kansas. He didn't want Sam coming out on hunts until he was in the right shape. Of course, what he wanted to be doing was sitting back at the bunker and looking after his brother, but Sam had all but packed his bag and shoved him out the door. Maybe he'd been a little overbearing. He just didn't want to focus on hunting with Sam in the mess he was. But his brother was doing better and they had big problems on their hands.
The angels falling had been passed off as a meteor shower, and although Dean was more than curious about where Castiel was, he'd opted to focus on what he could fix. Dressed in a grey suit and a neat tie, he had spent all morning posing as FBI to gather information but he needed a few minutes to research and get coffee.
He headed for a cafe he knew he'd be able to get that and do a few searches, pushing open the door and getting himself set at a computer, flashing the waitress a grin and allowing the banter of "You're a cop?" "How'd you guess?" "You look the type." before he got to work.