About four hours into a Lord of the Rings marathon, Cas was passed out – snoring quietly with his head resting on Dean's shoulder. Really, the domesticity was disgusting. Even if he did manage to get the real Cas to forgive him for being a dick, Dean knew damn well he would never have a life like this. The more he thought about it, and recalled his time with Lisa, Dean knew he didn't really want that apple pie life. Truth be told, it was boring. The same thing every day, and the most exciting thing to happen all week might have been killing a spider on the bathroom wall so Lisa would stop complaining about it. He missed having a family, especially Ben, but it wasn't long before he had grown restless.

"Things are never boring with you, though, are they?" He asked the sleeping psychotherapist. Cas didn't stir. Dean picked up the remote for the TV and turned it off. It wasn't that he didn't like Lord of the Rings; he was just tired and more conflicted that he had ever been. He wondered if the real Castiel would marathon Lord of the Rings for no good reason, other than to sit around together eating too much junk food. He could almost imagine it – the two of them sitting on Bobby's couch, while Cas asked too many stupid questions about the movies, and Sam got pissy because he was doing all the work. Bobby would just roll his eyes and tell them to get a room. It wasn't that unrealistic; it could happen.

"Hey, wake up," Dean said and nudged Cas with his elbow.

"What time is it?" Castiel mumbled, and yawned. He stretched like a cat as he leaned over and pinned Dean beneath him. "You turned the movie off. Why?"

"You fell asleep," Dean replied, trying somewhat uselessly to keep himself from tensing up like a scared rabbit.

He was just over thinking everything, he knew that, so why was it still his first reaction to flee? The uncertainty, Dean rationalized, had to come from lack of experience. He wasn't comfortable with any situation, sexual or otherwise, that he wasn't completely in control of. Girls were easy. It was like riding a bike, get enough practice and you can do it without thinking. He knew what to say to get them in bed, exactly where to touch them, and how to make them beg for it – all without actually thinking about it . He had no idea what to do with Cas, except to let it happen and hope for the best. Which, obviously, was way out of Dean's comfort zone – never mind the whole gay thing. He had to do it, though. On the way home, he had told Cas that – that he wanted to try. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. He was in over his head, and he knew it.

"Relax, Dean." Dean, of course, did the complete opposite as Cas kissed a sensitive spot near the base of his throat and slipped his fingers under the waistband of Dean's sweatpants.

"Cas, listen, I want this, but... I'm probably going to be a little bitch about it," Dean said, looking up into Castiel's eyes that widened slightly as he regarded him with a curious expression on his face. "What I mean is don't let me be a little bitch, just... Do it anyway."

"I am not going to force you to do something you aren't comfortable with, Dean," Castiel said pulling back slightly. "That's hardly going to help you trust me, which is what you need to do."

"Damn it, Cas. I have to do this. Once I get it over with I'll feel better. Probably. So just-"

Cas silenced him with a soft kiss. "Take a few deep breaths, close your eyes and just feel. Don't think; just feel."

He could do that, maybe. Dean sighed and closed his eyes. If he couldn't trust Cas, then who could he? Still, he barely trusted himself on a good day. This, though, this was less like trust and more like complete surrender. Dean let Cas pull his shirt off, and kiss him deeply as he held him close. If he didn't think about it too much, it wasn't that different from being with a woman – except that the body pressed against his was much firmer than what he was used to. Still, Castiel's touch was incredibly light. He knew every little spot that made Dean pant and gasp as he caressed him with that feathery touch.

Dean stayed awake most of the night, staring into space – alone with his thoughts. Cas had fallen asleep, cuddled up to Dean, not long after they got out of the shower. Absently, Dean fiddled with his phone that he held in his hands. I'm ready, he typed into a text meant for Gabriel, but he couldn't seem to find the willpower to hit send. Dean unlocked the phone and stared at the text one more time; his thumb hovered over the send button. He locked the phone screen and sat it down on the nightstand. He sighed and slipped out of Castiel's arms, careful not to wake him.

Maybe he should stay for a little while longer – at least until he managed to talk Cas into sex in the Impala. Dean was starting to like the world Gabe had cooked up. His job didn't completely suck, and wasn't likely to kill him. He was married to his best friend, who happened to know how to fuck him like a god damned porn star slash sex god. On top of it, he had a home – a really nice one at that. He shook his head, as if to dash the thoughts from his mind. He knew better than to consider living in a fantasy.

Cas mumbled something in his sleep, and Dean threw his hideous blue patchwork quilt over him. Dean put his shoes on, and considered driving to the little cafe he had found in Warwick, but changed his mind. If he left, Cas might think he had freaked out and ran again. Maybe he would just go for a walk around the neighborhood. Sure, it was the middle of the night but Dean knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep. He grabbed his phone and shoved it in his pocket, before heading out into the night.

He hated to admit it, but he was starting to understand why Sam liked going running in the early morning. It was peaceful, everyone else was in bed, and no one was around to have any other expectations for him. The most dangerous thing he saw was a stray cat trying to raid a trashcan. The only sounds were crickets and peeper frogs. Dean found his way to the little playground in the middle of the neighborhood and sat on a bench near the swings. He yawned and looked up at the stars dotting the night sky.

If he was going to be honest with himself, he was afraid. Mostly, he was afraid Cas wouldn't even talk to him. And then, if he did, what would Dean tell him? What would he do when Castiel inevitably didn't understand, or wanted no part of it? Even Gabe had said it, really, this nightmare wasn't about Castiel; it was about Dean. There was no reason that Castiel would feel the same way about him. Sure, the one in this world that was supposedly a perfect copy was mindlessly in love with him. As far as Dean knew, that was just another illusion. And what about Sam? Had he really prayed to Gabriel – about this? The world was falling apart, and he asked the only Archangel that wasn't a complete dickbag to play cupid? Damn it, Sam.

"That sad sack of emotional baggage betrayed everything he's ever known to save your ass." Dean nearly fell off the bench and swore venomously under his breath. How long had Gabriel been sitting next to him? He didn't want to know.

"What do you want now?"

"To give you some advice. Buckle up bitch, because there's a rant coming," Gabriel said, picking at the peeling paint on the park bench. "You're right, Castiel probably doesn't feel what you do. Not yet. But at the end of the day, that moron would die for you – or worse. You see, it's not that angels don't have feelings. They do, they just have no idea what to do with them because they can't get a handle on free will. I do, and Cas does – well, sort of. We've been down here long enough to understand that there's more to existing that following orders blindly. I've been here, or there, whatever – on earth – for a very long time. It took me centuries to learn what it means to truly have free will, to acknowledge my own desires and ambitions. Cas, he needs a little help, but he knows he gave up on what he was 'meant' to be when he chose your crusade instead of letting Michael and Lucifer have their little pissing match. What I'm saying is, it won't be easy, and he'll probably run from it – from you, but he has the capacity to think for himself. Deep down, he knows it, too. The problem, is that it terrifies him – something you can relate to. I would have trapped Cas in here with a copy of you, but we both know he could 'mojo' his way out. So it's up to you to get him to pull his head out of his ass."

"How the actual fuck am I supposed to do that?" Dean asked, rolling his eyes. "Do you know what I know about relationships? How to get out of dodge before they wake up, and not leave behind any child support cases. That's it. This... I'm going to make a mess of this."

"No, you won't."

"What makes you so sure, asshat?" Dean snapped bitterly.

"Because you care, shithead," Gabriel countered. "As long as you care, you'll make it work. I'm just telling you not to give up when Castiel runs, because he will run. What makes the difference is whether or not you run after him. He'll never admit it, not to me, but he's scared and he feels lost without his connection to Heaven. Perhaps, similar to how you felt when your father died."

"Because any of that makes sense," Dean complained, getting up from the bench. "And don't you bring up my old man."

"You had to learn to find your own way without him, and that is what Cas is going through now, except he never knew he could make his own choices. Get over your petty emotional constipation, Dean, because he needs you – maybe more than you need him," Gabriel said, without a trace of his usual humor. "So, are you going to send that text, or do you want to keep playing house? You can stay if you want, if you aren't sure."

"Shut up! I... Fine. Send me back."

"Are you sure? You don't want to... Learn anything else?"

"Damn it. I know that I can do it, that's enough. I can't waste all these new experiences on a knock-off with a psychology degree," Dean snapped and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. He pulled out his phone, and after a moment's hesitation, hit the send button – before throwing it at Gabriel's face. He caught it and ran his thumb across the broken screen.

"Good luck, kiddo." Gabriel snapped his fingers. "See you on the other side."