He doesn't miss the way this is similar, either. He might not need to sleep, but that doesn't mean that he's not tired, tired of wars going on, tired of everything that keeps happening to them, tired of the fact that none of them can seem to catch a break and it's not stopping, not even after death. Still, it's Cas. Much as Dean's pissed at everyone and everything, it's still Castiel. He squeezes the man's arm a little tighter, sliding it up to his wrist, thumbing over the bones there under his skin.

Cas always felt different than a human, before this. Like there was energy humming faint and soft under his skin, but now it's all the more tangible, like sticking his hand into a pool of static electricity until it tingles.

"Don't think I can take any more bad news today, buddy. Save it for later."