"Hello?"

"Hey, Cas. What's happening?"

Castiel looks to his partner for silent reassurance. "Not much."

"Ah, same here."

"How are your bullet wounds doing?" Castiel asks.

"It still hurts like a bitch, but it's getting better," he says. "I'll live — but I'm sure that's not such a good thing to you."

"Well, I can't deny that," Castiel says. "But this does make my life more interesting."

"I'll take it," he says.

"You like that?" Castiel asks.

"I mean, I certainly don't dislike it," he says. "I'm not expecting you to like me, but I'm glad you see an up side."

"Is that why you wanted to talk to me?" Castiel asks.

"What?"

"Did you want to talk to me because you hoped I kind of like you?"

There's a pause, then, "That's a weird question. I don't know, I guess I just like talking to you. Why do you ask?"

"Is that why you killed her?"

"Castiel!" Michael hisses. Castiel already knew he wouldn't be too fond of him bringing up their conversation, but he has to know.

"What?" he asks, confused. "Is that why I killed who?"

"That old lady when you dropped your phone number,* Castiel says. "You've been gone so long. Did you just kill her to get to me? Would you have come back so soon if you'd never spoken to me?"

"Cas —"

"Don't call me that," Castiel snaps.

"What's going on with you today?" he asks.

"What's going on?" Castiel repeats. "What's going on is that I think I might have an innocent old lady's blood on my hands because I made the mistake of talking to you."

He sighs. "Cas, come on, that's not how it happened."

"Really? Because that's how it looks to me."

"No, I just got bored," he says. "It didn't have anything to do with you."

"Then why'd you call the cops?" Castiel asks. "Doesn't exactly sound like your usual murder agenda."

"Well, okay, that part was because I wanted to talk to you," he says. "But don't think the whole thing was, 'cause I was just bored. Don't worry about it."

And, for some reason, that makes him feel just a little better.