Dean stared at Cas across the darkened nursery. They'd obviously come a bit early. There were no sounds in the house; all Dean could hear was the noise of baby Sammy's breathing.

He didn't want to see his baby brother in danger.

He didn't want to see his mother die.

"Can we get out of here, Cas?" he asked.

"Dean, I know this is hard. But you came here for a reason. You have to see this," Cas said.

Cas' eyes glittered in the darkness. He didn't seem exactly sympathetic, but he was compassionate. He knew this was hard for Dean, but obviously had no idea how hard or what to do to help him.

Dean braced himself. He had to know if his father was right. But then…he was back in time with an angel. Not exactly definitive proof that he wasn't delusional, was it? This could all be a hallucination. It felt so real. Every detail was so accurate. His imagination couldn't fabricate this; he was almost sure of it.

"Look here, Dean," Cas said. He leaned down and pointed out the wire for the baby monitor. It was radiating heat; Dean could tell even in his insubstantial form.

"The faulty wire?" Dean asked.

"Indeed. In fact, your father got a settlement from the company. There were some other fires—two others resulting in deaths. Not enough for a class action suit, so the settlement wasn't large, and your father gambled the money away before you were ten."

Dean watched in mute horror as the carpet sparked and then was ablaze, quickly moving to the polyester draperies. Dean suddenly heard a young voice. "Mommy!"

"How did I wake up?" he asked Cas. He supposed he was expecting Cas to say something about angels watching over him or that it was fated to happen.

What Cas said was, "Children's sense of smell is highly developed. The smoke woke you."

"Oh," Dean said. He watched the flames, and then his mother was there. She stood in the doorway with young Dean as the flames rose higher. Sammy was wailing by now, and she stared at the flames in frightened awe.

"Stay right here, Dean," she said.

She came into the room and reached Sam. She pulled him into her arms and then placed him in Dean's arms. "Take your brother outside as fast as you can!" she said.

Dean took his brother and ran as fast as he could without falling. Dean remembered that moment, but had always thought it was a false memory—an imagining of what had happened that night that had been played so many times it had become something he thought he remembered. He had remembered it accurately, though.

"We don't need to see the rest," Cas said.

He touched Dean's forehead. They were suddenly back in the present in Dean's current house, in his bedroom, and he felt that sense of nausea and disconnect he had felt the last time. "Oh god. That is the worst feeling. What happened to her? Why did she die?"

"She didn't want to lose the house. You didn't have any insurance. She tried to beat back the flames with a blanket, but she passed out because of smoke inhalation," Cas said. "Eventually she died from it."

"Thank you for showing me what happened. And thank you for not letting me see…that…"

Cas put a hand awkwardly on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, there is no truth to what your father has been saying. Your brother is a sweet kid who happened to be in the room when the fire started. I suppose in a roundabout way, if Sam hadn't been born, there would not have been a baby monitor to catch fire that night, and perhaps that is the root of your father's need to blame your brother for Mary's death."

"God, he's so mixed up. I don't know how to help him," Dean said. He sat heavily on his bed and lay his head in his hands, not knowing what to do.

"You don't get an angel visit to help you get your Dad into therapy. I'm here because you are potentially a real force for good in this world, and if your father kills your brother, your path will change. If you don't stand up for Sam, he will almost certainly die," Cas said.

"So thinking my Dad is dangerous—I'm not crazy. He really is dangerous?" Dean asked.

"Very. You need to find a way to get Sam away from him, and not just for a little while, either. You need to get him away permanently," Cas said.

"I've been working on a way. I have an apprenticeship lined up with Bobby Singer. I just need to finish school. In a year I'll be eighteen and I can get Sam away from him legally."

"It's not soon enough, Dean. You need to just take him away. Ask Bobby for a place to go. He knows a bunch of people who can help you. Those people will put you on the path you need to be on. There's a lot more to him than meets the eye," he said.

"I've always thought so, but no one else seems to see it," Dean said. Dean got up to get his clothes together, thinking he could get a jump on packing, but something made him freeze. "You know, Sammy and my father don't get along, but John's got him convinced I'm crazy. Sam thinks I imagined that whole confrontation with John—he thinks that I beat John up for no reason, actually. Why would he trust me? He won't go away with me. If he does, he'll call John the first chance he gets. Shit. I can't kidnap the kid. At this point he wouldn't even go on a weekend road trip with me—not without telling Dad, anyway."

"Perhaps the police will intervene," Cas suggested.

"It's my word against John's. Andrew refused to say anything negative about John, Bobby only has suspicions, and the fortune teller is still MIA. And even if anyone believed me, child protection only goes until you're sixteen in this state. If I could convince Sammy that he should lie and say John had hit him…"

"How likely is that to work? He doesn't even believe you that John hit you," Cas said.

"I guess all I can do is stay here and try to draw fire away from Sammy. I have to protect Sam, and I won't be able to convince him to leave with me," Dean said.

"Dean, I can't tell the future. But sometimes certain bad things are planted in a timeline in such a way that it leaves a mark in the future and the past. A very bad thing is going to happen in this house. And if you stay here, I can't guarantee that it won't happen to you," Cas said.

Dean looked at the angel thoughtfully. He realized all at once that he really believed the man was an angel for the first time. "I know one thing Cas. No matter what bad thing is going to happen here, it won't happen to Sammy. I don't mind losing my life if it means Sam gets to have his. He's more important."

"Dean—Sam is just a regular child. You are the important one. I was sent here to protect you. The angels have plans for you," Cas said.

Dean looked at Cas stubbornly, angry at the man for the first time. "You have plans for me? Well, do something then! Take Dad away. Take him to ancient Rome or Acapulco. Tap his forehead and just disappear him. Why's it on me? You're the one with the power to go back in time. What good is it if you don't use it?"

"I don't have the authority to intervene that way," Cas said.

"You've never broken the rules? Come on! There are lives at stake. Lives you claim mean something to you! Can't you just take him away?"

"No Dean, that's not how things work," he said.

"Jesus! What good are you then?" Dean asked in frustration. He would have curbed his temper if he'd known Cas would disappear in a flutter of wings. "Great, now I have an angel of the lord mad at me. That can't be good."

The next time Dean saw Andrew was at school the next day, and the other boy turned around and walked away from him the second he saw him.

Dean looked around the empty hallway, trying not to attract a teacher's attention when they both should be in class.

"Andrew! I need to talk to you," he said, as loud as he dared.

Andrew slowed his pace with a show of reluctance. "I told you I didn't want to make those football players mad. I don't want them to think I'm on your side. And I don't particularly want to get involved in anything that friend of yours is up to. What the hell was that, anyway? You damned well disappeared."

"You said you wanted to avoid them, not me. I didn't start any of that stuff with Phil. In fact, the moment I see him I'm going to set him straight, one way or another. And Cas is cool. He's helping me with something," Dean said.

"You disappeared. Into thin air."

"He's got powers. What can I say? There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

"Who the hell is Horatio?"

"It's Hamlet, dude. We studied it? Last semester?"

"Oh yeah, Horatio was Hamlet's gay best friend," Andrew said.

"Well, Mr. Frost said we always see ourselves in literature," Dean said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Andrew rounded on him. Dean hadn't expected him to get so angry.

"Relax, man. I didn't mean anything by it. I wouldn't care if you were, you know," Dean said.

"It's bad enough I have to put up with that shit from everyone else in this school. I shouldn't have to take it from my best friend," he said.

"It was just a joke. I need you on my side. And—oh thank god," Dean breathed.

"What?" Andrew snapped, still annoyed.

"I just realized that you saw Cas. You saw him disappear. He's real. Oh thank god," Dean said.

"You thought he was a hallucination?"

"I met him when I was committed to a mental hospital. He told me he was an angel and he was helping me because the angels had plans for me. Don't you think that sounds deluded?"

"Jesus, Dean. I can't imagine how that must have felt. Why didn't you talk to me about any of this? Why didn't you tell me you wanted me to rat your father out to the cops, for that matter? Don't you trust me anymore?"

"Look, Andrew, I'm sorry for the way I've handled all of this. It's been a disaster from start to finish. The fact is, no matter how rough my father is on me now and then, I've always loved him and trusted him more than anyone else on earth. He's acting crazy—telling me that Sammy is demonic and evil. It's made me find it hard to trust anyone."

"Sam? Sam's such a good kid. Where did he get that idea?"

"Does it matter? Listen, I need you to come and tell Sam what you saw. He has to believe me that Cas is a real angel. Maybe I can get him to leave town with me after all," Dean said.

"Leave town? Are you serious?"

"John is dangerous. I need to keep my brother safe," Dean said.

"What about your future? What about graduation?"

"Bobby will find a way to help me, even if we go away. Cas too, I hope."

"What about me? Will I ever see you again?"

"Maybe when you go away to college. I know all the places you applied. I'll find you. Right now I just need you to help me convince Sam that I'm not crazy. Will you please help me?"

Andrew looked rebellious. "I don't think you're doing the right thing. I'll help you go to the police, but I won't help you leave town with Sam. You'd be practically a fugitive, because he's a minor. Isn't that kidnapping?"

"We're both minors, and anyway I don't care! You have to help me. Please, Andrew. I need you to do this for me," Dean grabbed Andrew's hand with his right hand and pressed it with his left, staring into his eyes like he would a girlfriend. He felt terrible using the feelings he suspected his friend had for him against him when he totally wasn't gay or interested himself—but at this point he'd do anything to save Sammy. He leaned on the locker and subtly pulled Andrew closer, making his voice husky. "I'll find you some day. I promise," he said.

Andrew's cheeks reddened. "Okay, I'll do it," he whispered.

Dean wasn't sure if it was his effort at a seduction attempt or simply Andrew's loyalty that won out, but he sighed with relief that something was finally going right for him.

"Can you come over tonight?" Dean asked. He realized he was still holding his friend's hand. Well, he'd gotten what he wanted, hadn't he? He released his double hold on his friend's hand, and Andrew let go a moment later.

"I'll be over after dinner," he said.