A/N: The problem with writing is that, as the author, you want to quickly write down what you want to happen all at once, but you have to fit it all into a story line. *sigh* Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Dean could hear muffled voices through the thick fog in his head. His whole body ached; he felt like he had gotten thrown out of a moving vehicle. Oh, wait. Dean groaned as he lifted his heavy lids to peer around the shabby room and the voices stopped. "It's about damn time you woke up, shifter. I still need to interrogate you," Sam said. To Dean, it sounded like everything was underwater. Sam seemed to take notice to his predicament and held out a can of beer. If Dean could laugh without feeling like he'd just broken all of his ribs, he would have.

He took a sip of the cold beer and sighed in contentment as the liquid soothed his throat. "Why did you give him a beer?" Cas muttered to Sam. Dean sent him a look of annoyance and set the beer down on the coffee table. He heard the click of a gun being loaded and felt a rush of anger. "Oh, for fuck's sake, put the damn gun away and let me explain, will you?" Dean snapped. Cas and Sam both looked at one another in shock. Sam sheepishly unloaded the gun and placed it down on the table. Castiel narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. He had changed out of his Metallica hoodie and was wearing a grey t-shirt with AC/DC printed in bold red letters on the front. Dean frowned; he had the exact same shirt.

"Well? Are you going to explain or are you just going to sit there?" Sam said. He didn't sound hostile, but he did have an edge to his tone. Dean sighed and sat up, grunting as the action tugged at his ribs painfully. A flash of white caught his eye, Dean spotted a bandage winding up his calf. He realized that he was wearing black shorts and a black t-shirt. Before Dean could begin to freak out, Sam stepped in. "Your clothes are being washed. They were covered in blood and glass," he explained. Dean only slightly relaxed. "Did you do this, too?" he asked gesturing to the bandage.

Before Sam could speak, Cas shoved himself away from the wall he'd been leaning against and walked out of the room, his jaw clenched. Dean watched him go with a confused look. Sam sighed which brought the hunter's attention to him. "He felt bad for you. He patched you up and gave you some of...," Sam trailed off then cleared his throat, "He gave you some spare clothes. Though, it just about killed him to do so." Dean looked down at the clothes he was wearing. His eyes widened as he recognized them. "These are m- I mean, Dean's clothes, aren't they?" Dean said. Sam stared at him for a long moment then slowly nodded.

Dean lowered his eyes and scratched at the back of his head; he didn't know what to say. "If you're not a shapeshifter, then what are you?" Sam asked gruffly. Dean heaved a exasperated sigh. "I'm a human hunter, just like you. My name really is Dean Winchester, but I'm not the one you know," he explained. When Sam looked at him blankly, Dean realized that he would have to tell him everything. He shifted against the back of the sofa he was laying on and grabbed the beer from the coffee table. "I have a younger brother named Sam, too, and he and I were on a case together in Oneonta. We were investigating what is called a fauna of mirrors. It basically is a gateway between dimensions. Seven people had gone missing because of it.

"We were trying to figure out what was so special about it and something from the mirror shoved me through. I ended up here in...Portland," Dean said feebly. Even he could hear how fake his story sounded. Sam, who had been listening intently, was staring at the floor, brows furrowed in thought. Dean awkwardly picked at the tab of the beer can and found himself wondering over what had happened in this dimension. From what he had gathered, something big went down that caused a bunch of strange monsters to appear and take over; he hadn't seen any other humans besides Cas, Sam, and himself. "If you're from a different dimension," Sam said interrupting Dean's thoughts, "then why choose here?"

Dean frowned in confusion; what was Sam even talking about? Before Dean could speak, Sam plucked a book from one of the dusty bookshelves and blew dust from its cover. Licking his thumb, Sam flipped through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. He handed the open book to Dean and gestured with the back of his hand, indicating to Dean to read the page. "It says that the fauna of mirrors are magical beings- creatures that wreck havoc on people. From what you described, it doesn't make sense. I think what you were dealing with wasn't the fauna of mirrors at all, but rather a Dybbuk," Sam explained.

Dean's brows shot up in surprise. "A Jewish demon?" he said incredulously. Sam nodded gravely and took the book away. He flipped to another page and ran his finger along the paper, mumbling under his breath as he read. "It may be a demon, but it is really some broken soul that is trying to find a way to support itself, while causing pandemonium in the process. But what I don't understand is why it chose a mirror to latch onto and why it put you here," Sam said, scratching at his hair. Dean stared at the book and felt the odd gnawing feeling in his stomach again. He had first felt it when he met Cas.

"I don't think that...that this thing is a demon, Sam," he said slowly. Sam looked up at him in confusion. Dean opened his mouth to speak again, but Cas chose that moment to enter the room. Both Sam and Dean turned their heads towards him. He halted, slightly taken aback by the sudden attention of both hunters, and tossed a small white bottle over to Dean. Dean caught it with a clatter and turned it over in his hand. His eyebrows flicked up in surprise.

"Aspirin?"

"You get headaches whenever you lose blood,"

Dean felt his heart ache at the soft tremble to Cas' voice. The blue-eyed man avoided his gaze and walked passed Sam, patting him on the shoulder as he did. "It's late. You need to sleep," he said. Dean caught the underlying affectionate tone and smiled a little. Cas glanced behind him at Dean and caught his eye. "You, too. You'll never heal right if you don't rest," he said. Though he wasn't affectionate with his words, Dean could tell that Cas meant what he said. Dean nodded and sent the other hunter a grin. For a split second, the corner of Cas' mouth lifted just a tiny bit then he walked up the stairs. Sam stood and stretched his arms above his head.

"Well, Cas is right. We all need to sleep. You can finish explaining in the morning," he said, shrugging off his jacket. Dean found himself staring at the white crisscrossing scars that covered parts of Sam's arms. Worry fluttered in his stomach; how had he managed to get all of those? Sam caught Dean staring and glanced down at his scars. A boyish grin lit up his face and he even chuckled a little. "If you think I'm bad, you should see my brother," he said, "We used to fight side-by-side and Dean used to try to protect me from everything. It broke his heart every time I managed to earn another one of these babies. When I told him that chicks dig scars, he would just roll his eyes and tell me to be more careful."

Dean nodded, half grinning. He liked this other Dean; he took care of Sammy as best he could. Sam sighed nostalgically and hung his jacket on one of the dining room chairs. He stood there for a moment, his hand gripping the back of the chair. "It's weird...you being here," he suddenly said softy, "You look like him and talk like him and even act like him sometimes. I know that you aren't my brother, not really, but fighting with you in that parking lot...it felt like he was back, you know? It made me miss him a whole lot more, but the hurt lessened a bit." Dean swallowed hard and forced a smile on his face. "Hey, no chick flick moments," he said.

Sam stiffened a bit then choked out a laugh. He lightly hit his palm on the edge of the chair, as though he were trying to distract himself. "Right. I forgot," he said quietly. Sam turned and Dean could see the sadness in his eyes and immediately felt guilty. But Sam only smiled, wished him a good night, and climbed the steps with his head bowed. His long hair fell over his face, blocking his forlorn expression from Dean. Dean blew out a harsh breath and ran a hand through his hair. 'That went well. Great job, Dean,' he thought sarcastically. He clicked off the lamp and settled down against the couch, wincing as shocks of pain jolted up his leg.

Dean woke up abruptly in the middle of the night, eyes wide and alert. "How long do you plan on staying?" Dean turned his head and saw Castiel sitting on the coffee table. Dean had to take a few moments to register what Cas had said and shook his head. "I don't know," Dean muttered in annoyance. He had a pounding headache and realized that he had never taken the aspirin. Cas didn't move and simply stared at him silently. Dean glanced over at him and had to squint a little; he couldn't see Cas very well in the dark. "What, you want me to leave just like your Dean did? Would that make you feel better?" he snapped.

The instant the words left his lips, Dean wished he could take them back. Even though it was dark, Dean still saw Cas flinch and watched helplessly as the other man stood and quickly exited the room. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips into a thin line. Today just wasn't his day. "Shit," he muttered, tossing the thin blanket Sam had given him to the side. He carefully maneuvered through the dark, following the path Cas had taken. As Dean neared the kitchen, he heard quiet sobbing. Dean winced and guilt slammed into him like a ton of bricks. He silently slipped through the entryway to the kitchen and found Cas sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest against the lower cabinets. His face was buried in his arms, which were resting on his knees.

Dean bit his lip and, despite the pain it caused in his leg, knelt down beside the upset man. "Look, Cas, I-I'm sorry. That was uncalled for and I shouldn't have said that to you. I barely know you and I just lashed out," Dean said softly. Castiel didn't say anything and just sat there quietly. Dean sighed and sat down next to Cas, his arms resting on his legs. His hands clasped together and he found himself bouncing them anxiously. He knew that he should say more, once again, he was at a loss for words. So, Dean sat without speaking, listening to Cas cry. His throat was thick and Dean stared at the ceiling, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Cas stopped crying after awhile and even lifted his head a little. He still didn't say a word to Dean. Dean found that he was alright with not talking; it saved him the embarrassment since he apparently couldn't use his words properly around Castiel. "You...," Cas began in a soft voice, "That was the third time you've called me Cas." Dean looked at him and found Cas looking at him curiously. Had it only been three times? Dean frowned, unsure of what Cas getting at. Cas wiped at his eyes with the pads of his fingers and sniffled.

"I don't recall ever telling you my name," he said. Dean froze. He was positive that he looked exactly like a deer in headlights. Cas didn't seem to be bothered by it. He just sounded curious. "Do you have a Castiel in your world?" Cas asked. Dean nodded slowly and his thoughts filled with the angel. He saw him wearing his signature trench coat and backwards tie, complete with head tilt and squinty eyes. It made his heart lurch then ache all at the same time. Dean realized that he missed his Castiel terribly. Then he snorted; Cas probably didn't even know that he was missing. The man beside Dean shifted and hummed low in his throat. "He must miss you. Him and your brother both. I'm sure they're trying to find a way to get you out of here," he said.

Dean smirked and glanced over at Cas. "Wait, does that mean you believe me?" he teased. Cas scoffed and twirled a lock of his hair with his finger absently. Dean watched the dark curl of hair and, for a split second, he longed to reach out and touch it. He shook himself; there was no way he would do that. Castiel licked his lips and sighed in defeat. "Yes, I suppose that means that I do believe your story. I mean, how else would you know my name?" he said with a forced chuckle. Dean detected a note of sadness in Cas' tone and noticed fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Surprised, Castiel turned his head toward Dean, his mouth slightly parted in a small 'oh'. He seemed to be struggling internally, as though he wanted to say something. Dean lifted his hand to scratch at his cheek and his ring caught his eye in a flash of silver. He stared at it for a moment then glanced over at the one on Cas' hand. Cas didn't seem to notice and looked away, resting his chin on his arms once more. "No...no, I'm not alright," he mumbled. Dean's attention instantly shifted back to Cas at the intense emotion in his voice. Dean Winchester is dead.

Dean flinched at the memory and suddenly he understood what Sam had meant by how his being there was strange. He slumped against the cabinet, slightly shocked at himself for not understanding sooner. There was still something that was missing, however. "Tell me about Dean," he said in a low voice. He spoke barely above a whisper, but Cas heard him crystal clear. He inhaled sharply then relaxed against the cabinets. A small smile tugged at his lips and he sniffed again.

"What would you like to know?"

"Everything,"

Cas seemed mildly surprised by Dean's quick response and cleared his throat. "Dean was everything you could ever love and everything you could ever hate in a person," he said. When Dean frowned, Castiel laughed softly. "He was strong, kind, compassionate, stubborn as hell, sarcastic, and he could kill anything that crossed his path. He was a surly alcoholic, he was a total dork, and he loved Sammy more than anyone in the whole world. Aside from me, that is," Cas said. He looked down at the ring on his hand and began twisting it around his finger.

Dean felt an odd feeling rising in his chest. He couldn't quite pin down what it was exactly. His chest felt as though it were about to burst and his heart seemed to be beating a mile a minute. He decided to ignore it. "It sounds like you two were close," he said. Cas scoffed and looked over at Dean like he had just said something humorous.

"Well, I should hope so. We were married for seven and a half years."

A/N: Next chapter might take a little longer because I've got a lot going on, but I promise that I will update as soon as I can. Until then, stay tuned!