A/N: Just to clear up a few things, this IS a human!Cas fic, just because I can't figure in a way to make him an angel. However, I wish he could be... but it doesn't fit with the story. Also, the reception of Dean's family will be soon, but not for a couple of chapters sooo buckle in people!

Guys, I'm so embarrassed, but someone pointed it out that I put Valentine's day in December chapter 1 and it's because I changed the timeline to fit my needs after writing it all and I totally forgot about having Valentine's day in there. I've gone back and changed it, but it makes no difference to the plot really... Please forgive me!

And, OH MY GOODNESS you people really must love this or something because the response I've gotten so far is just... wonderful. Thank you all so very very much!

When Dean woke the next day, the sun was already high in the sky. He felt sore and tired, but he hadn't dreamed about the rope or that impossible blue color, which in itself was a blessing. Memories of the previous day, though, rushed into his head and Dean groaned, sitting up to hold his head in his hands. After a few minutes he got up the courage to leave his room.

John had gone to his work as a mechanic and Mary and Sam weren't around either so Dean assumed they'd gone out to lunch or shopping or something. Dean went back upstairs and took a long, hot shower, letting the water relax his tense muscles. He was just drying his hair with a towel and leaving the bathroom when the doorbell rang. He picked up a clean shirt from the laundry room downstairs and slung it over his arm, towel still in one hand when he opened the door wearing just a pair of jeans.

Castiel stood before him in the doorway and his face suddenly turned pink in a blush when he saw Dean without a shirt. "Um, hi, Dean," he stuttered out after a few seconds.

"Hi," Dean replied, surprised. "Come in, I guess," he said opening the door wider. Cas stepped in and glanced around before his gaze settled on Dean's bare torso again. Slightly uncomfortable, Dean shut the door and turned away from Cas. "Gimme a sec." He moved towards the laundry room again and dumped his towel inside, sliding into his shirt before returning to Cas.

Dean tried not to notice the slightly sad look that came to Cas' face when he saw Dean had covered his skin. "Do you want anything to drink?" Dean asked slowly, standing awkwardly. Cas shook his head and stepped further into the house.

"You have a nice home. It's very…"

"Homey?" Dean supplied.

"Yes," Cas said with a slight smile. They were quiet for a moment.

"So, what's up? How did you find my house?"

Cas shrugged. "I was wandering around where we were yesterday and I decided to walk a little. I saw your car…"

"Oh, I see." Dean leaned against the railing of the stairs, waiting for him to continue.

"I thought I might stop by and see how you are today." Cas paused. "Where is your family?"

"My dad's at work and I dunno where my mom and brother are. Probably out doing this or that." Cas nodded in understanding. "I'm alright by the way, thanks for asking." Clearing his throat, Dean straightened. "How are you?"

"I'm good." Cas' brilliant eyes met Dean's and they stood for a moment just looking at each other until Dean felt heat rise in his cheeks and he looked away. Cas moved closer to him. Dean abruptly stepped away and nearly tripped onto the stairs. "I'm sorry," Cas apologized, backing away slightly.

"It's fine," Dean said, trying to control his fervently beating heart.

"Have you told your family yet?" Cas suddenly asked after a bout of silence.

Dean shook his head. "No, I didn't get the chance to yesterday…"

"Oh…" was all Cas said. "I should go."

Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times as he grappled with his feelings and tried to find something to say. "Okay," he finally said. He opened the door for Cas and those blue eyes of his looked at Dean as if he had something else he wanted to say. But eventually he gave up and walked outside towards the sidewalk. Dean wanted to call out after him, but he couldn't make a sound. Instead, he shut the door and leaned his back against it, slowly sliding down to the floor.

"Why does this have to be so fucking complicated?" he asked himself after a long time. But in his heart he knew it really wasn't all that complicated, he was just making it harder on himself by not accepting his fate. He hid his face in his knees, arms wrapped around himself.

It was in this position that Mary and Sam found Dean when they came home nearly an hour later.

"Dean? Honey? Are you alright?" Mary asked, kneeling beside her eldest son and stroking his hair gently. Dean just shook his head, not looking up. Mary glanced at Sam and shooed him away. The younger boy tramped up the stairs, eyes lingering on his brother for just a moment before he disappeared to hide around the corner.

Dean's mother looked back at him, sitting on her legs and resting one hand on his arm while the other continued to touch his hair. "What happened?" she asked softly.

"I don't want to talk about it," Dean replied in a whisper.

Mary sighed lightly. "Does it have to do with your soul mate?" Her son nodded and she smiled sadly though he couldn't see. "Was she not what you expected?"

Dean finally raised his head and looked at her with eyes bright from unshed tears. "Something must be wrong. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's gotta be some explanation!" he cried out, frustrated and confused.

"Honey, you know as well as I do that it's meant to be. Fate has played its role in your life and now you have to follow the path it's given you." Mary's voice was soothing and Dean was unashamed to find solace in his mother. "It takes time sometimes. A lot of people don't just meet their soul mates and immediately fall in love with them. It's just like any other relationship when you start out. Give it time, Dean, I'm sure everything will be better soon."

Dean wanted so much to believe her words, but in his head he still felt like it was wrong. His heart, though, knew she was right and accepted it. Eventually Mary got Dean to calm down enough to lead him to the kitchen and fix him a sandwich, which he barely ate. He retired back to his room, spending the rest of that evening looking at his ceiling before sleep finally claimed him.