Soulless Sam had been… different. Not necessarily completely bad, but without inhibition or conscience. Dean, Castiel recalled, had not been very fond of his brother in that form. Castiel could only assume similarly of Deanna. He supposed that was neither here nor there though, considering it was not currently a concern. That wall might be though. Castiel knew Sam, even in this form, and knew that scratching at it eventually might be a possibility. It was hard to say though, everything was different here. Maybe there was something to be said about flying through the stars with none of the same concerns that Earth so often seemed to present.
He nodded, poking his spoon through the soup and no longer feeling terribly hungry, even though he'd only ate half. Appetite, he decided, was a very strange thing.
"I am," he agreed, and considered the linear years of Earth. "I'm from about three years after that. Much has happened. Little of it good." He smiled - honest to god smiled, and it was a little crooked like it was a gesture he wasn't used to making -- but it wasn't really all that humored. "Most of it was my fault. I'm afraid I did not take well to the idea of free will." Well, no. That was wrong. He took well to it. He just didn't manage it very well.