Dean had been pacing, not looking at the angel while he did it. The English douchebag got a glare now and then. They were keeping Sam hostage as far as Dean was concerned, and he wanted his brother back.
When Dinah came out, Dean stopped pacing, turning to her. His lips pursed, his jaw tight, his hands in white knuckled fists at his side. He was angry to say the least.
"Yeah, the jackass is dumb enough to ask strangers for help," Dean mumbled to himself. Not that the pair were complete strangers for Sam. He glanced at John before looking at Dinah again. "They know their shit then?" He tried to force his hands to unclench.
"I can't-I don't want to leave. I've never left him when he was in-" He wanted to throw a fit, and he knew this was't the time. He wanted to yank Cas forward and find out why he hadn't fixed Sam to begin with. This was not supposed to happen this way.
"Fine. I find out they hurt him, or are keeping him prisoner..." He didn't finish the thought; it was probably left better unsaid. "I'm not leaving the camp." It was growled as a warning.