Gi seemed relatively unphased by the interview video, even somewhat confused as to why Dean had shown it to him.

"Well?" Dean prodded, impatient for a response.

"Well, I'm not sure I see the problem, bro." Gi shook his head.

"You don't see the problem?" Dean took a deep breath, trying to contain his rising frustration. "Ok, real slow so you can keep up, the problem is, I don't remember doing that. No, the problem is, I didn't do that, because there is no way I would have done that. Look at the date. I was dead at the time, so what the hell?'

"Dean, chill, it's really no big deal." the last thing Gi wanted was for Dean to work himself back up into another frenzy. "I mean, from what you're telling me," he observed, "you've got way bigger problems."

"No big deal?" Dean repeated in disbelief, "Awesome, well that's just…"

"Yeah, no big deal," Gi cut in, hoping to diffuse Dean's rising temper. "They say everybody's got one. So you found yours, no stress. I mean it's freaky, sure. What are the odds? But the cards can only shuffle into so many combos."

Dean ran his hand over his face in frustration, "Gi, are we even having the same conversation?"

"Not since the moment I met you, Dude." Gi replied, shaking his head in befuddlement.

Dean rolled his eyes, inhaling deeply, "Ok, let's try this again. Everybody's got one what?"

"Doppelganger, a look alike," Gi explained, not getting why Dean was so concerned. "Wait a minute," he suddenly understood, "you thought that was you? Dude, so not."

Dean came up at a loss as to which side to argue. It was clearly him, and absolutely couldn't possibly be, one more paradox in the tangle of conflicting truths that made up his life lately. "I'm listening," he gave up trying to make sense of it.

"Well, just look," Gi turned the laptop to give Dean a better view of the screen, "I mean sure, there's a mondo resemblance, but, for starters, that guy's got a few years on you. And look at his body language.

That man knows how to chill. You, part of you is always waiting for something to sneak up behind you. Then there's the eyes," Gi moved his eyes from the image paused on the screen to face Dean. "I don't know what you've seen, Dean," he said seriously, "but I can tell you this," he glanced over at the video title, "Jensen Ackles, never saw it, whatever it was."

Dean reached over and scrolled back to a random spot in the middle of the video and let it play. He watched intently, with a closer eye and calmer perspective. Gi was right. In fact, now that it had been pointed out, he wasn't sure how he could have missed it.

"I mean, if that's you," Gi continued, "then you're the best actor in the world, or he is."

"Ok, but then who is he?" Dean had felt better for all of three seconds before it sunk in that now he just had an entirely different problem. "Why's he walking around with my face, on TV talking about making movies about my freakin' life?"

"It was a TV show, not a movie." Gi pointed out.

"Really, Gi? That's your takeaway?"

"Maybe you're related," Gi suggested, "That would explain the resemblance. Or maybe it's just one of those weird things."

"Yeah, I know," Dean grumbled, "only so maybe ways the cards can shuffle." Having spent a lifetime hunting down and ending "those weird things" he wasn't inclined to be quite so easily dismissive of them. He was getting seriously sick of this. At least if this were a TV show he'd get time out for commercials, but this just never stopped. He was beginning to regret not just having gotten drunk. "That doesn't explain how my life ended up on some crap TV show. I mean, it may suck, but at least it's always been my life. What's this, what's his name, Carter Evens, doing writing books about it?"

"Don't know, Bro," Gi responded uselessly. "Maybe you should read them. No, no, no, you know what you should do? You should watch the show."

"It was never aired." Dean moved right past the suggestion. The idea made him edgy in ways he didn't want to look at too closely.

"Oh, my man, trust me, if it exists, it's on the internet. Give me an hour," he blinked a few times, "a sober hour," he clarified, "and I will find it for you."

"I've got a better idea." Dean growled pulling the laptop closer. "How do you do a search on this tricorder?" he demanded, the complexity of the system outclassing his computer skills.

"Ok, let's just rewind a little," Gi spoke as if to a spooked animal as he hastily, but discreetly pulled the computer out of Dean's reach. "What are you planning to do?"

"I plan on finding this Eddens clown and getting some answers out of him." judging by the tone, Dean was prepared to ask his questions as hard as was necessary.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Gi agreed sarcastically, "because that worked out so well this time."

It was a fair enough point that Dean had to consider it. He'd broken in here tonight ready to stake Gi, a bad call made because his head was so screwed up that he didn't know up from down. As much as every fiber was aching to track down this writer guy and pound some answers out of him, Dean knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't keep going off half cocked without all the info, and he couldn't get all the info because he never knew what was real and what was hallucinations or whatever they were. He was screwed.

"How psychic are you?" he asked Gi.

"Well, Dude," Gi replied, "you can't really quantify the psychological and spiritual indicators that.."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean interrupted, "can the granola munching, new age, mumbo jumbo. Can you read minds?"

Gi took a breathe, "Sometimes, like when I got your name. Mostly it's more energies, emotional currents, I get a little bit of what the subject's thinking, and a whole lot of how they feel about it. That gives me enough to walk them in to where they need to go."

"So you're really just a glorified shrink without a license." Dean observed, disappointed.

"Dude, harsh,"

"Well, I'm fresh out of options, so," Dean flopped back onto the sofa in a poor parody of relaxation, "let's do this thing."

Gi took in the sight, feeling his own tension grow just watching. "Oh man, first, not like this. It took me three hours to kill the headache you gave me yesterday. If I'm gonna help you, you gotta find some way to get the firewall down. Second, it is," he glanced at the computer, "oh god, Dean, it is three o'clock in the morning, so no, just no, not til I've slept and eaten. Third, your five minutes was up about forty hours ago. I'm a nice guy. I like to help out when I can, but I have expenses. You think Micro-noodles and Creature Energy Drink are free just because they're crap?"

"Well, how about that," Dean mused, "you do have a limit."

"And it took you to push me to it." Gi pointed out. "I'm gonna go back to crashing. You want to come back in the actual morning, that's after ten, by the way, bring donuts. Nothing with cinnamon, it gives me a rash, and some decent coffee wouldn't hurt."

Dean was suddenly aware of what an ass he was being. Gi hadn't asked for any of this. The guy had just been unlucky enough to come up on his radar. By all rights, Dean should have been shagging ass out of the neighborhood before the cops showed, and instead, Gi was, for some reason, actually willing to try and help him out. "No cinnamon, decent coffee," he said, walking his attitude back some. "I'll just take this with me." he added awkwardly, retrieving the stake before heading for the door. Leaving it behind would have been beyond tacky.