Castiel is already off of the roof by the time Dean tells him to forget about it, but instead of climbing in through the window he leans his elbows against the sill, clasping his hands. The curtains ruffle slightly in the breeze, brushing against his sleeves and knuckles. "Dean."

Cas stops, takes a deep breath and plows forward. There's something intimate about discussions in the dark, just the sliver of moonlight falling over his shoulder to illuminate the room. "You need to tell me what you need me to do. I don't-" He tilts his head in a familiar gestures, attempting to find the correct words. "I'm trying to be something...different. Something you can more easily relate to."