Something in Castiel's face softened. He didn't think he belonged in Heaven--he didn't even deserve to be welcome there--but if Raphael thought he did, well, that could mean something.

"I don't want to fight anymore." He was so tired of fighting. He'd given up in Purgatory and being here had reignited something in him. There were people here worth fighting for and he would if he had to, but he didn't want to.

Here, there was no apocalypse to prevent, no world to save. It was pointless and he couldn't.