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"... Praying may garner better results than leaving a message."

[He's quiet for a second at the apology. It might not be the first time Cas has apologized for shit- maybe this particular incident, sure, but not ever. Still, the words coming now, not at the height of a mistake, not prefacing the request for help fixing it, not desperate, just... sincere. They mean more, somehow, than they ever really have.

He breathes out, and a lot of the resentment he's been harboring goes with it. Not all of it, and it's by no means even scratching the surface of the shit they have to deal with, but it still.... means something.]

It's not your fault.

[He mutters finally, voice quiet.]

You were doing what you thought was right. You were doing the best you could at the time, and-

[A beat, where he chews on his words, huffs, and finally reluctantly admits:]

I'm not exactly the best communicator on the planet, either.

[It's true, getting an apology from Castiel is very difficult. Not because he's too proud for them, but because words are and always will be a struggle for him. He never knows when and how to say something to make it right.

Hence how this entire mess started. He's the one who'd sparked that argument, not Dean.]

That may be something we both need to work at improving.

[Not that Castiel has the slightest idea of how to do that, but... this conversation on its own may be a good start. The two of them may fight a lot, but that's always how it's been, and it might be for the best that he got all of his concerns off his chest.]

How... [He pauses, clears his throat.] How have things been?

Pff, yeah. Especially you.

[He responds immediately, eyebrow quirking up. That's just barely detectable teasing, given away by that trace amount of amusement in his voice.

He moves on, though, shrugs a little.]

Ehhh, you know.

[Scratches at his cheek distractedly. Falters just a beat too long, like he's considering something, then dismisses it.]

Same old same, I guess. You?

[It isn't much of an answer, but seeing how no events have gone on, it's possible there really isn't anything to report.

Castiel hasn't even been paying any attention to the broadcasts on his phone. Not until getting this voicemail, at least. No one has bothered to contact him, though that's hardly surprising. He has a tendency to make himself scarce from time to time, so most people wouldn't think anything of his absences. ]

A lot of... alcohol, mainly.

[He shrugs, apparently not sure of what else to say.]

...Right.

[Dean responds slowly, maybe a little skeptically. Cas and alcohol are never, ever a particularly good mix, but he's not exactly in any position to judge a man drowning his annoyances in booze.

He sighs.]

Look, whenever you're, you know, done coping or whatever, just... come on back, okay?

[The less asked about Castiel's drunken episodes, the better. The short version is that it's not pretty and he'll need to clear out a literal mountain of bottles from this place before anyone shows up. At least those aren't visible from where he's seated.]

I will. I'll come back. I always come back, Dean.

[He says that mournfully, with a sad smile at the side of his mouth. And with that, he ends the call.]

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