"My faith in god is less than minimal at best," Castiel said, honestly. There was no hiding that -- and how could there really be when in his own time he'd shamed God completely by becoming one himself? Even if that was not a time he was proud of, Castiel still occasionally harbored small, secret thoughts that if not for the souls that overtook him, he would have been a Better, more Just God. Present and caring, and not just some absent father figure. They weren't thought he should be having, but sometimes they were there despite that.
"Don't do anything that requires smiting, and my position of power will be of little import and a nonissue." This, the angel said with something that was nearly a smile, like it amused him to be able to say it, or like it possibly reminded him of something else. Familiarity -- even as a demon, Dean was still Dean. And even if he was a person that Castiel was exceptionally fond of, there was just something slightly grating about his very existence that made Castiel want to roll his eyes and sigh deeply.
"I know that once I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," he said, tone even. "I know you down to your very soul." He tilted his head again, narrowed his eyes down to squinting. Demons didn't really have souls, he knew that. But he also knew Dean, constantly surprising as he was aggravating. Maybe Cas could… help.