Sam was asleep on a chair that sat in the corner of Castiel's room, deep within the bunker. Dean sat resting comfortably on another chair beside the bed where Castiel lay, still unconscious from that morning's lightning storm in the library. The room was dark; a small dusting of light from the lamp on the bedside table was in direct competition with the even smaller amount of light that seeped in through the doorway, from the hall.

Dean's eyes moved from Castiel to Sam; worry the only emotion they showed. Dean was worried about Castiel for obvious reasons; the worry for Sam stemmed from the bad dreams the kid seemed to be having every time he shut his eyes of late. Sam fidgeted again in his sleep and muttered anxious rants to the world he was trapped in. As the noise escalated, Dean stood slowly, stretching out as he did so, and then he walked over to his brother, grabbing his shoulder lightly while calling his name, "Sam…" At first, Sam didn't respond, too entrenched in his nightmare to be pulled out of it by Dean, but as Sam became more and more involved in the dream, Dean couldn't let his brother suffer anymore.

"Sammy…" he yelled, shaking his brother's shoulder much more violently than before. Sam's hands went up in defence; not sure, what was happening confused between what was real and what was simply a dream. Dean stepped back quickly to avoid the inevitable defensive punch, his hands wide, signalling that he was not the bad guy here, "You were dreaming kid…" Sam released his defensive position and pulled himself up so that he sat properly in the chair, rather than the slump he had been in before. Dean sighed heavily before he turned and walked back to his own chair. Unable to let it go, without trying to help his brother, Dean spoke out, "You need to let it go, Sammy."

"Let it go? Let what go?" Sam's eyebrows were raised in a questioning manner.

"Dad… the Djinn… everything… It's just gonna eat you up if you don't."

"You know?"

"Yeah…" Sam looked puzzled; Dean elaborated, "You talk in your sleep… I pieced it together…" he said with an apologetic shrug.

"So you know…" Dean merely nodded at Sam's repeated question, "You know, that we could have had our sister years ago… and it doesn't bother you?"

"Of course it bothers me, Sam…" Dean spat it out, but was instantly regretting it because of the look on Sam's face, he quickly continued, "Look, it's done. We can't change it. We have to move on."

Sam looked up at the sky, tears welling; "I'm so sorry, Dean." Dean was confused; why was Sam apologising for what their dad did? "For what?" he asked, unable to work it out.

"For not telling you. Or dad. It's all my fault…"

"Your fault?"

"Dean…" Sam whispered, "I should have said something, but I forgot. I understand that you are angry with me. I'm sorry. I wish you would just yell at me. Or… Hit me… something, anything. How long have you known? Dean… please…"

Understanding dawned on Dean, as he realised why Sam was so upset and where the nightmares were coming from; Sam thought the fault was his, given that their Dad had never set off looking for Hope. Gently, he corrected him, "Sam… You have it wrong. Us not finding Hope, it's not your fault?"

"Yes, it is Dean. I knew because Dad told me. He told me about Hope… when you were chasing the Djinn and I stayed back to help him. I was supposed to remind him… but I forgot… I forgot" the last two words were barely audible as Sam retreated into his own mind, unable to forgive himself for not remembering.

"Sam." Dean walked back over to his brother until they were just a foot apart; kneeling down beside his brother, he asked, "You remember when I got caught, by the Djinn?"

"Yeah, of course.,

"Well, you remember what happened to me?"

"Yeah – you were in another reality. We, you and me, didn't hunt there. Mum hadn't died, I was with Jess, engaged. You had someone. Dad was dead, but he had died of a heart attack… not because of the yellow-eyed demon… You were happy… ish…" Sam went quiet again, as he remembered that Dean had discovered that all the people they had saved over the years had died because he and Dean had not ever taken up hunting; and he remembered how Dean had given up all of that happiness to come back to him in their much darker reality.

"And how do you know all that, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head; he could tell by Dean's tone that the question was important, that he wanted him to work something out, but he had no idea what Dean was getting at, "You told me…" his reply cautious, as if he was worried he was going to get it wrong.

"I told you…" Dean put a heavy emphasis on all three words, speaking each slowly.

"Yeah…"

Dean could see that Sam hadn't worked it out yet – Sam just couldn't see what had been so obvious to Dean from the first time he heard Sam mutter it in his dreams.

"I told you… because… I…" Dean paused, tilting his head in towards Sam, willing him to work it out for himself; realisation eventually dawned on Sam's face and seeing it Dean continued, "Because I remembered. Moreover, that means Dad remembered. Because that's what the Djinn does. If they can't have you in their make-believe world, then they sure as hell want you to be miserable in the real world. Dad knew. Hope was nineteen, one year of running under her belt. Dad knew about her and he chose Mom, not her." a deep and heavy sadness could be found in Dean's words and in his eyes, "He didn't even bother to tell us. That is some kind of messed up – right there."

Sam slumped back in his chair, Dean rose to his feet and ambled away; to some degree, Sam felt a certain relief at what he was hearing, he may not be as responsible as he first thought. "This… is what you have been punishing yourself about, for that last four and half weeks?" Dean asked as he turned back to stare at his brother; Sam nodded, unable to voice the angst he had felt. "Well… It stops now, Sammy. That is definitely not on you…" Dean paused before continuing; choosing his words carefully, "He was a selfish bastard, and for the parts of him that I find in myself, and the way I treat you, I apologise."

"You're not like him, Dean."

"Yeah, I am. Too much."

"No Dean, you're not. I mean, sure, on some things you are so focused, like, he got, it's downright scary, but on the whole… you care too much to be like him. He didn't care. Not like that. Not about us, anyway."

Dean shook his head, not sure he agreed with Sam; Sam shook his head too realising Dean didn't agree with him, he wished he would or could see it from his point of view, but when was Dean ever going to see any good in himself, Sam thought.

"Ok. No more 'bowel movement' scenes…" Dean's brow rose with a hint of playfulness that had been missing since Dean's return; Sam gave a small laugh at Dean's deflection; he never did like the chick flick moments. "Time for a recap…" Dean added, desperate to move away from their current topic.

"Ok." Sam jumped right in, helping Dean out, "We have two cases. One that Chuck is all for and one… well, one he isn't that into…"

"Right," countered Dean, "Murder-suicides and our sister, trapped in hell… where are we on those?"

"Bupkis… on both counts…"

Dean laughed aloud at that one, a real hearty laugh at that; a broad smile beamed across Sam's face, elated that he had brought about some joy in his brother. "Hmm… We have at least five main murder-suicides… Are they all on the same line of longitude?" Dean asked, continuing the recap.

"Yeah… well, I think the last two were – Cass didn't say they weren't and… well, I wasn't really into listening at that point…" Sam offered, "And we think that someone is trying to mess with the veil, to bring down the wall or…"

"Wait… What?" Dean cut his brother off; this was the first he had heard about something happening with the veil. Sam stood up, realising he had failed to tell his brother everything he had learnt over the last week; he moved to stand at the end of Castiel's bed before he continued. Dean stood to his right, looking at him, waiting for an explanation.

"Yeah… I guess I forgot to mention that one… Sorry. Cass had been talking to a friend. Another angel, I think, and he thinks that the shimmering is someone messing with the veil, which then, for some reason, makes everyone in the near vicinity go insane and start… well… you were there too… you know what happens."

"Who is this other angel? We know him?"

"Jehoel."

"Je-who?"

"Jehoel."

"Ja-whole?"

"Jeh-hoe-elle" this last word, or three syllables, came as a mere whisper from the bed; both Dean and Sam whipped their heads around and in unison blurted, "Cass?"

"Yes." As he tried to move, pain shot through Castiel's body causing his face to distort and a low groan escaped his pursed lips. Dean rushed to the bed, perching on the edge of the chair beside his friend, "Cass… It's alright. You're going to be alright."

Taking his time and clearly struggling to talk through the pain, Castiel asked, "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Dean flashed a look at his brother, who gave an equally distressed look straight back at him. Castiel seemed to ponder, his eyes rolling back as he fought the pain while trying to recall anything that might explain to him why he was feeling this way. "No…" was all he managed to get out before his back arched up off the bed as another wave of pain flooded through his body. Dean grabbed Castiel's hand trying to let his friend know that he was there; wishing like hell there was something, anything, he could do to take the pain away. Sam moved to the other side of the bed, worry plastered across his face; nobody understood what was happening to the angel.

After a few minutes, Castiel's body was released from the pain that had gripped it and he fell back to the bed, breathing heavily, a sweat brewing up on his forehead. Dean and Sam exchanged worried looks before Dean, still holding Castiel's hand started to talk to him again. "Cass…" his worried tone had a small hint of fear lingering in it, "Cass… What is wrong? Can we do something? Cass?"

"I don't know." Each word Castiel spoke was as laboured as his breathing and it caused more worry to bloom within the brothers. "I feel like every cell in my body is… on… fire…" with the effort of those last words, Castiel slumped back into unconsciousness. Sam reached out to touch Castiel's face, "He's burning up. What can do that to an angel?" Dean's eyes flicked quickly to his brother's face before hastily retreating to Castiel's; watching over him like a hawk, Dean felt he could not leave his friend for a second, lest something happened to him. "Dean…" Sam called to his brother when there was no response; he called again, "Dean…" Dean's eyes left Castiel's face again, to find out what Sam wanted; Sam didn't waste any time, speaking as soon as he saw he had Dean's attention, "We need to do something…"

"I don't know what…"

"Well he's burning up we need to do something…" Dean's eyes went straight back to Castiel, flickering as the brain behind them tried desperately, to think on how they could help their friend. Sam stood tall again and started pacing between the door and the bed; back and forth, he went, all the while Dean just sat, holding Castiel's hand in both of his. On Sam's sixth trip between the bed and the door, Dean finally had an answer, "Pray…" he whispered.

"What?" Sam looked over at Dean as he asked him to repeat what he had said; not sure, he had really heard or believed, what his brother had said.

"Pray." Dean repeated, much louder this time as his confidence in what he was saying grew, "Pray. To God or the angels… to this Jehoel… somebody will know what to do… somebody should answer."

Sam turned back to the door, thinking about what to say in his prayers. Dean, sitting with Castiel, hung his head low and started to pray asking for help. Time ticked on as the boys whispered their prayers to whoever was listening; other than their low murmurs, the room was quiet. When he had finished his prayer, Sam turned back around, looking for Dean and realising he was still praying, he bowed his head too. Both Dean and Sam were acutely aware that nobody was rushing to Castiel's aid. Where were they? Sam thought frantically. "Dean…" the new whisper came from the bed, "You're praying?"

"Cass…" Dean cried out, cutting off his prayer mid-sentence, "How are you?" Castiel turned his head slightly, grimacing in pain as he did so. "I feel… better… Still on fire," each word pained Castiel, but he carried on, "but it's on the way out…" Dean shook his head, he needed to be doing something to help, not just sitting idly by while his friend suffered, "Cass… what can I do?"

"What happened to me?"

"You seriously don't remember?" Dean shot Sam, who was standing at the base of the bed, another worried look; it was unlike Castiel to not, remember something. Angels had amazing memories.

"No. I don't know what happened."

"Well, what is the last thing you do remember?"

Pain shot through Castiel's body, his face screwed up as his breathing shortened, trying to control what he was feeling. He grimaced through the pain, trying to speak, "We… were talking…"

"Cass…" Dean cried, "Don't… just rest…"

"No. It takes my mind off it…" Castiel replied, his eyes searching Dean's face, before he continued, "God came here. Were you praying to him just now?"

"Cass, I was praying to anyone who would listen, who would come and help you."

"But, no one answered. I'm not much liked anymore." A sadness crept into Castiel's eyes, amongst the pain that was already plastered across his face, it made him look just that little bit more broken and Dean's heart leapt, tears springing to his eyes, which he tried desperately to hide from Castiel, "What else do you remember, Cass?" he asked quickly; hoping that Castiel hadn't seen the tears.

"God came. He had cleaned and, left you books…" Castiel paused, thinking, pain still etched into his features, "He left me a book too and…" Castiel stopped again, his face thick with concentration, trying to remember through the pain, "I don't know… I can't remember anything else…"

"The lightning?"

"What, lightning?" Castiel asked Dean, turning his head once again to look at his friend.

"The lightning. It attacked you, Cass… Sam said it went on for about an hour; he was trapped outside." Dean watched Castiel's face closely, "You don't remember that?" Castiel shook his head; no, he didn't remember that. Suddenly Castiel's body seized again as a fresh wave of immense pain enveloped him, "Dean…" he screeched through the pain, his hand tightening around Dean's, almost cutting off his circulation. "Cass…" Dean cried in reply; he was sick with worry, watching his friend's body being taken over by the pain.

"Keep recapping…" Castiel managed to force the words out between sharp breaths, while his body twisted and contorted itself on the bed, "helps… take… my… mind…"

Dean frantically looked at Sam, trying to remember where they had been up to, in their recap, stumbling through his thoughts to grasp something, anything that he could say to help Castiel. Sam realising what he wanted opened with, "So Jehoel thought someone is trying to mess with the veil…" he threw his hands up as he spoke, silently asking Dean if that was ok, Dean jumped on the trail of thought, "Right, Cass's friend." Instantly his mind jumped to a conclusion; some friend he was... hasn't turned up to help Castiel, even though we prayed for it. What kind of friend, angel or not, would do that? Dean thought as he sat there watching Castiel, who was still racked with pain. Then Dean's mind jumped to another logical conclusion, one that had been trying to breach into his consciousness ever since he first heard about the threat to the veil, "It's not the veil…" he said softly to the room, lost in the thought connected to it.

"What?" Sam queried, confusion spreading across his face.

"It's not the veil…" Dean repeated, looking back at his brother, he was sure of it now, but he had to try it out on Sam, "We've been to the veil. There is nothing there, except dead people, who didn't go with their reaper or those that are waiting. It is not evil… It is not, anything. They are not trying to bring down the wall between earth and the veil. They're trying to bring down the wall between earth and hell…" Dean let his sentence hang in the air, an eerie silence descended on the room, even Castiel seemed to have calmed and his breathing was returning to normal. Sam shook his head slowly, as he thought through what Dean was saying. Could it be? He did not think so, "No… It is not possible. Hell's not here…"

"Who says?" Dean raised his eyebrows, waiting for Sam to answer and when no answer came, he continued, "Who says it's not here. It's just another dimension, right? Heaven is up. The angels fell, cast out and down to earth. Lucifer was cast down to hell. But, who says hell is below us? It's just somewhere, and considering the earth is solid… then it makes sense that, hell is just another dimension… here… one that we can't see or get too." Dean paused, thinking about what he had just said, correcting himself he went on, "Well not without the gates. Or a portal, like the one Billie made when I went to hell to help Crowley get you back out of the cage… again… Yeah…" he said, feeling that he was more right, the more he said, "It makes sense. It makes more sense than someone tampering with the veil…"

"Who then? Lucifer? And why?"

"The why is easy… Bring about an apocalypse. The, who? More difficult. Lucifer? Crowley? The situation is volatile; I doubt either of them is involved."

"Someone else then?"

Dean thought about it, finally, he nodded a weary look on his face, "An unknown… makes it that much worse…"

"They must be stopped." Castiel spoke up from the bed, colour had returned, ever so slightly to his face, and he seemed to be in less pain. "Geez, Cass." Dean spoke to him, "Don't we have enough problems? We need to save Hope, get you healed up…"

"I, feel better."

"Yeah, well we still don't know what happened to…" Dean stopped talking, his eyes wide, this new thought blowing his mind; both Sam and Castiel watched him, holding their breath, waiting for him to spill whatever it was he had worked out. Just as Sam could not take it anymore, Dean spoke, "It was God…"

"What?" Sam and Castiel asked in unison, each turning to look at each other, confused by Dean's abstract statement.

"It was God." Dean repeated, shaking his head; yes it all made sense. Unfortunately, for Sam and Castiel, it did not make any sense at all; they simply were not seeing whatever it was that Dean had realised. "What was God, Dean?" a frustrated Sam finally blurted out. Dean turned to look up at Sam, his hands moving out in a questioning manner, to show that he couldn't believe that Sam hadn't seen it too. "The Lightning… It was God."

"Why would God attack Cass with lightning?"

"Not attack… No… Chuck wasn't attacking him, with the lightning. He was changing him. He was making him an archangel…" Sam's breath caught at Dean's declaration, Castiel was disbelieving, "No, Dean. God would not do that."

"Why not? No… Don't answer that… I'll tell you why. We need something. We need something, 'big', to help us, and who better than our friend, the new and improved archangel. He left you a damn handbook for God's sake… well, not so much his sake, as our sake… We need a way to get Hope when we find her – he gives us an archangel; he knows we're not going to give up on her – or get to saving the world while she's still in hell, suffering. And if I'm right, and we're on the verge of another apocalypse… then we sure as hell need all the might we can get and what better than…" Dean's arms swept wide, showcasing Castiel as he lay on the bed, "our very own archangel…"

Sam's eyes blinked rapidly as he tried on Dean's explanation; he could be right, he thought as he worked through Dean's justifications. Castiel, on the other hand, was not so easily convinced, "No Dean… God would not… he wouldn't… Dean, I am not… worthy…" a frown appeared on Castiel's face; he was deeply happy that his best friend could think that God would see fit to make him an archangel, but he was also deeply saddened to know that he was not, in fact, worthy.

"Come on… Cass…" Dean's eyes tried to reason with Castiel, as much as the tone of his voice implied that Castiel was wrong on this one.

"Dean… It is ok. I know that I have done a lot wrong. Things that I should not be, forgiven for. The angels are right in not coming to my aid… and God would definitely not be choosing me, of all angels, to be made into an archangel."

"Bull… Cass… That is pure bull… You have done plenty good as well. You have more than made up for the mistakes you made, and you continue to fight for the world. Who better to make an archangel than you? None of them other douchebags have ever done anything that helps the greater good, only the 'angel good'," Sam's left eyebrow shot up at Dean's explanation, "Cass, you do deserve this. You are definitely, the only angel I would follow into battle and if God wants me and Sammy on his 'dire' issues, then he made the right choice, in you."

"Dean…" Castiel sighed, shaking his head before continuing, "I'm glad you have faith in me, but I'm telling you that God would not have…"

A sharp beeping noise interrupted Castiel's sentence; it came in a severe pattern, beep beep beep, pause, beep, pause, beep beep, pause and repeat.

All three boys looked at each other; none had heard this noise before. Sam turned and started walking towards the door; Dean rose from the chair beside the bed and started after his brother. Castiel raised himself up, propped up on his elbows as his eyes followed the boys. "It's coming from Hopes' room?" Sam stated his comment as a question, turning to quickly look at Dean, who gave him an equally confused look, before turning and walking down to Hope's room. He walked inside slowly, Dean close on his heals. The beeping continued. It didn't speed up, slow down or change in volume, it just kept beeping away.

Sam started to move to the left, once he entered the room, but quickly turned back towards a dresser on the right side of the room, when he realised the sound was coming from over there, "It's her computer." he told Dean. As he reached the computer, Sam opened the console and immediately saw a flashing icon on the desktop. The icon flashed in tune to the beeping; it wasn't an icon Sam had ever seen before and he didn't know what it was. Cautiously he used the mouse pad to open the program, "It's an email." he said, as the program opened and he realised he was looking at. The beeping stopped as soon as the program opened. "What should I do?" Sam asked Dean, he didn't want to invade Hope's privacy, but then again, she was gone.

"Open it." Dean replied; he felt a certain level of dread at what the email might contain. Neither he nor Sam really knew that much about Hope, having found her and had her in their lives for only a short time, before she had died. Sam opened the email and began reading it aloud so that Dean could hear.

My Dear Chayse,

Dean's eyes went wide at hearing Hope's alias being used, 'it really shouldn't be that shocking' he thought to himself, 'she didn't want people to know who she was – she lived in fear for so long…' Dean stopped thinking about it and turned his full attention back to Sam, having missed the greetings section of the email.

I know you told me that you didn't want me to contact you again. But, I'm afraid things aren't good here. Something bad is happening and there just doesn't seem to be anyone coming to help. I know you told me that there are lots of good people out there and that I need not worry if certain 'things' happened again because someone like you or Robert would come along to help. It's just, three people are dead now and try as I might I can't see anyone new in town, who might be 'looking into things'. I tried to ring Robert, but the number was disconnected, and you are probably wondering how I got your email, well I rang him a long time ago, maybe a year after you left, and I asked him. I know you said I shouldn't look for you, but I just wanted to know if you were alright. Even after I got it though, I couldn't use it, but I kept it just in case and I somehow felt safer knowing that I had it. And now – it is definitely 'just in case' time. Please, Chayse, I wouldn't be asking if this wasn't something bad, I know better. If not for me, then please come for the town, for the people. Please. We need your help. Still yours, Harper.

Sam looked up at Dean as he finished the last sentence; Dean's eyes went wide as he mouthed the words, "Still yours…" at Sam, a questioning look on his face. Sam shook his head, slightly amused at his brother's antics and then he remembered, "I read about a Harper." he stated as he moved away from the computer on the dresser and walked over to the bedside table. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a journal, much like their fathers. Sam started flipping through the journal as Dean walked over, "What is that?" Dean asked his brother, pointing at the journal, Sam looked up hearing the confusion in his brother's voice, for a second he didn't understand what was wrong and then it dawned on him, "Whoops, another thing I forgot to tell you… sorry… This," Sam gestured to the journal he was holding, "is Hope's journal. It's exactly like Dad's. I found it one day when I was sitting in here after she…" Sam couldn't finish the sentence, his emotions getting the better of him. He took a moment to compose himself before he finished, "I probably shouldn't have looked at it, but I just missed her so much. It details quite a few of the 'things' she went after when helping hunters and…" he paused, not really for dramatic effect, but he definitely got it, "it has a list of all the hunters she 'helped'… three hundred and fifty-one… to be exact, it seems Monty was short a few stories." Sam was talking about Pete Montana, the hunter that had pointed the boys in the right direction when they were first looking to find their long lost sister.

Dean was not surprised that Hope had helped that many people; he was a little surprised there was a journal and he hadn't known about it. Sam stopped flicking as he finally found what he was looking for, "Here it is… Harper… a civilian…" he quickly read the entry before looking up at Dean, "It was a large pack of werewolves in Grand Junction, Colorado. That's about a ten-hour drive from here."

"What does it say about Harper?"

"What?" Sam asked, then, realising what his brother was after he added, "Nothing… Dean… it's not that type of journal. It's about cases and details on how to kill things. There are some notations and numbers in the margins, but I don't know what they mean. Probably never will, without Hope." Dean looked disappointed, seems he wouldn't be able to get to know his sister any better by reading the journal, just who she helped.

"What do you want to do?"

Dean cocked his head to the side, indicating he wasn't sure what Sam was asking, Sam sighed heavily before explaining himself, "Do we (a) stay here and keep trying to find out where in hell Hope is, (b) move on to the murder-suicides now we think we know what 'dire' means or (c) are we going on a road trip?" Sam lifted the journal up, highlighting what he meant by road trip.

"Oh… C… that's a no-brainer. Hope might not have wanted this 'Harper" to contact her, but she would never forgive us if we failed to help someone who was asking for it."

"Right…" Sam said glad his brother had said exactly what he wanted to hear, "Road trip, see you in the car in ten?" Dean nodded his assent and Sam handed the journal to Dean as he walked from the room. Dean flipped the journal around, looking carefully at its cover; the leather was well worn but someone had, a long time ago, scratched out two details on the front of it, a devils trap and the words 'my sunny boy'. As he traced the words with his right index finger, a single tear made its way down his cheek. A small movement at the door made him look up from the words on the journal.

"Dean… I'm sorry." Cass was apologising because now that Dean was looking at him, he could see that he had been crying and he didn't want to interfere, he turned and started to stumble away. Dean ran over to him, grabbing Castiel's arm and hoisting it around his own shoulders to support his friend, "Cass, what are you doing up? You need to rest."

"I just wanted to see what the noise had been about."

"Well, it was an email from a friend of Hopes, they were asking for help."

"And you're going, right?"

"Of course. When have Sammy and I ever turned down helping someone…" before Castiel could answer, he quickly added, "that doesn't include Chuck asking for some random help…on a 'dire' issue."

Castiel sighed heavily, he really wished Dean would refrain from calling God, Chuck, and that he would just try to see things or understand things from God's point of view. "What do you want me to do?" he asked Dean, as he was being led back to his own room.

"Nothing Cass. You need to rest and get better."

"I can't do nothing."

"Fine, you can lie in bed and read, then."

"Yes, I will research about how we can locate Hope's soul."

Dean whipped his head around, stopping suddenly to make his next point very clear, "No Cass… You have much more important things to do?" Castiel looked confused, so Dean added, "You need to read the archangel handbook and get a grip on your new skills."

"Dean…" a slightly exasperated Castiel responded, "I am not an archangel."

With a level of confidence that left absolutely no room for anyone to doubt him, Dean replied, "Yes you are Cass; you just don't know it yet."