Castiel's eyes widen a little when Sam's hand slides to the back of his neck, more grounding than he could have anticipated. He feels like an animal held in place for a dizzying second, just because that's the sort of sensation he's become familiar with, and then he realizes that there's no real pressure on him, just a steadying presence. Warm fingers that don't squeeze and press, but simply keep him firm and steady.

He closes his eyes then, takes a few deep breaths. Tries to listen to what Sam is telling him.

When he speaks, he sounds more like himself. Less insecure, but a bit more raw and hurting.

"Sam... Dean... Can I come home now?"