That voice -- it was enough to make Castiel nearly collapse into a pile of shock. Steadfastly, though, he stood straighter yet and refused to allow the ground to swallow him up. "--Sam?"
How was this even possible? He turned on the soles of his ruined and dirty white slip on shoes (still from the mental hospital) and only stared at his approaching friend with an air of complete confusion and loss. "Why are you here?" He asked, tone broken and rougher than ever. It had been a very, very long time since he'd spoken. And then, because he couldn't help himself, or even stop the question if he'd wanted to: "Where's Dean?" One Winchester didn't come without the other, after all.