"I'm not gonna fall for it this time!" Dean screamed at the night sky. "You think you're the first djinn I've met? I'm gonna bust out of my head, and then I'm gonna kill your ass so hard you'll wish your djinn mama had never given birth to you!"

Of course, there was no response from the stars. He surveyed the quiet little neighbourhood, nerves frayed from paranoia. He kind of expected Mary to pop out of every corner, every shadowy bush. Nothing his head threw at him could fool him this time, not after everything he'd seen, but it would still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch to be confronted with the empty promises of things he couldn't have.

"Dean."

Dean's head snapped around at the familiar voice. "Jesus, Cas, those dicks got you too?"

A confused squint. "What?"

"How come you're sharing my dream?"

"What dream? What are you talking about?" His friend shook his head resignedly. "Nevermind that. Just come back in the house for now, all right? You'll wake the neighbours. Come on, you can shout all you want inside."

Oh. Cas wasn't real. He was clearly just a part of the illusion. He should've known that the real Cas couldn't possibly belong in a fluffy green bathrobe, his hair tousled with sleep, the slippers on his feet sinking in the lush grass of a neat suburban yard. In the middle of the night. In his own freaking head.

"Dean?" the dream Cas asked again, voice tinted with worry. "Are you ok? Do you… Can I do anything to help?"

Before Dean could react, Castiel's hand tenderly cupped his cheek, the kind eyes tracing every line of his face with an openness Dean was completely unprepared to deal with.

Dean instinctively reached for the hand. But instead of swatting it away like he'd planned, he reveled in the warmth of the skin against his. "No. I… I think I'm…"

He faltered, alarm bells ringing in his head.

Gingerly, he lifted Castiel 's left hand to his eye level. He didn't remember the ring. The real Castiel didn't wear jewelry, especially not on his ring finger.

"That's my mom's ring," Dean whispered, his mind momentarily going blank from the recognition.

Castiel smiled a sweet, embarrassed smile. There was an unfamiliar softness to his face under the dim glow of the streetlamp. Or perhaps this Castiel had never known the apocalypse, had never washed the blood of innocents from his hands. "Why are you acting so strange, Dean? You know I never take it off."

Dean looked down at his own hand. There was a plain silver band on his left ring finger too.

Dean did the only thing he could think of.

He fled.