You couldn't be more wrong, Dean. I can't die. I'm God.
[Castiel probably knows it somewhere, but that part of him is too buried in monster souls, too sleepy from the steady hum of power, too scared of the darker voices starting to whisper to reach out to Dean.
He retreats.
Castiel's expression smooths into the serene and he smiles slightly, reaching out to touch Dean's shoulder. They appear in one of those usual nondescript crappy motel rooms the Winchesters seem to favor. He crosses the room, calmly sits down on a chair near the table.]
I have a few moments to spare with you. Why don't you sit down and tell me exactly what you want from me? [Castiel says it like he's humoring a small child throwing a tantrum. He waves a hand over the table and a cold bottle of Dean's favorite brand of beer appears, dripping condensation onto the scratched and grainy wood surface.]
no subject
[Castiel probably knows it somewhere, but that part of him is too buried in monster souls, too sleepy from the steady hum of power, too scared of the darker voices starting to whisper to reach out to Dean.
He retreats.
Castiel's expression smooths into the serene and he smiles slightly, reaching out to touch Dean's shoulder. They appear in one of those usual nondescript crappy motel rooms the Winchesters seem to favor. He crosses the room, calmly sits down on a chair near the table.]
I have a few moments to spare with you. Why don't you sit down and tell me exactly what you want from me? [Castiel says it like he's humoring a small child throwing a tantrum. He waves a hand over the table and a cold bottle of Dean's favorite brand of beer appears, dripping condensation onto the scratched and grainy wood surface.]