Castiel simply took in what the man was saying. In many ways, the error of his delusions was common. There were more than enough human preachers and missionaries on Earth, believing in the Lord's word and using their interpretations to further their own agendas. But to say he believed this Boyd Crowder had been using it for the wrong reasons would be a lie. And Castiel had never been good at telling a lie.
"I do believe you," he said somberly. "If you were to lie, I could technically examine your mind for any signs of it, but I assure you I'm neither cruel nor interested in desecrating the one thing that makes all of you individual. As for your men...I'm sorry they were taken from you. Though I'm highly aware those words are of little comfort or import. I...feel you would have protected them or tried. Had you been able to. As for your father, the Lord does work in mysterious ways."
He'd heard them both. People were sorry about his siblings. His lack of a home, and for a while, his fading Grace. It had seemed absurd to hear about it then and he imagined it was just as absurd for Boyd to hear it from him at the moment. But being trapped where they were, there was nothing he could do for any of those men. Even if the fabric between realities had been punctured.
"Not cast out," he replied. "When I rebelled, I made a conscious choice. It was them or my charges and I was not about to resign their lives to those who wished to do them harm. So I suppose you could say it was more of a matter of being locked out. And hunted. You could say my actions are frowned upon. But like you, there are many things I do not regret. At least entirely."
Taking another sip of beer, he turned his head to meet Boyd's eyes briefly. "Also, we do not sing in the same sense that you do. My true voice...would likely cause your ears to bleed within seconds."