CHAPTER 20

John Winchester frowned at the three of them, which made Castiel frown right back at him. He would have expected the man to be happier about being able to see his sons again, even if he hadn't been trying to reach them. But John did step back, allowing them to enter the room.

"How'd you find me?" John asked, closing the door behind them.

"Yeah, that's a good question," Sam said sharply, and turned to shoot an almost angry look at Dean.

Dean shrugged. "Got a friend," he said. "Name's Ash. He lives at the Roadhouse with Ellen and Jo. I got him to do a spell." His eyes flickered to Castiel for just a moment.

John nodded. "Yeah, I know that kid," he said. "Haven't seen him in years, but he's helped me out before." He gestured around the room. "Might as well take a seat, as long as you're here."

Dean nodded, and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, sitting stiffly with his back straight and his hands clasped tightly in front of him. Castiel hurried to sit as well, seating himself next to Dean. Something about John was making Castiel strangely nervous. He was sure that that must be a ridiculous feeling, considering that he was Sam and Dean's dad, so surely there was no reason to be uncomfortable around him.

But then he remembered what Sam had said about John leaving his son to die. His fists clenched, and he scooted even closer to Dean. Now, though, he wasn't as certain whether he wanted to stay so close for his own sake, or if it was because he wanted to be there if John said or did anything more that hurt Dean. Perhaps a mixture of the two.

Sam didn't sit. He just crossed his arms and turned toward John, the same glare on his face as the one that he had sent to Dean. Or, no, this glare was significantly stronger, Castiel noticed.

"I never told you to track me down," John said, walking over to take and grabbing a chair, spinning it around so that he could sit down and still face his sons.

Dean nodded, looking nervous in a way that he never usually did. "Yeah, I know," he said. "It's just, you weren't answering my phone calls."

John narrowed his eyes. "There was a reason for that," he said. "We decided that there was no reason for you boys to get involved with this demon."

"No," Sam said, causing John to turn his disapproving look in Sam's direction. "You decided that we weren't going to be involved," Sam said, then added, "You know that that's not going to work, right? Whatever is out there, it's not going to leave me alone just because you tell it to."

"That won't be a problem for much longer," John said dismissively.

Dean looked at him sharply. "Wait, does that mean that you have it?"

John frowned slightly, and shook his head. "Not yet," he said, "but I'm close." Then he pointed one hand toward the door. "And you boys need to leave."

"What?" Sam demanded. "No way. You gotta tell us what you've figured out."

Once again, John turned and gave Sam a severe look. Sam just scowled and didn't flinch, or back down.

"I'm surprised that you want to ask for my help," John said. "Honestly, I thought that you'd made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with me."

Sam just narrowed his eyes, sending John's glare right back at him, tenfold. And even though that had been exactly what Sam had been saying before, now he just nodded and said, "We're here now. I want to know what you know, then we'll be gone, to go work on this case by ourselves."

"Come on," Dean suddenly said. "We drove all day to get here. Might as well stick around for a while, tell each other what we know and see if we can figure this thing out."

This time, when John looked at Dean again – his angry, disapproving expression not changing – Dean stiffened even more, and almost seemed to wilt under his father's gaze, like he was growing smaller. Castiel leaned forward slightly, concerned, and reached out to place one hand on Dean's arm, trying to silently ask if he was alright. Dean shrugged him off.

For the first time, John turned his attention to Castiel. "And who's this?"

"Jimmy Novak," Sam said immediately, before either Dean or Castiel could get the chance to respond. "He's a friend of ours."

"Right," John said, giving Dean and Castiel a long look, then asked Sam, "And how long have you known this friend?"

"Long enough," Sam said, voice hard. He was making it clear that Castiel's presence here was not up for debate, and Castiel felt a rush of gratitude for him. "Why?" Sam added. "You know something that we don't?" But even as he said it, there was something in his voice – something mocking, almost. Whatever it was, it was obvious that Sam thought that the answer would have to be no, as if he thought that there wasn't anything that John could possibly know about Castiel that would cause him to lose their trust.

John shook his head. "No, I don't know anything about him," he snapped. "I've never even seen him before in my life, that's exactly the problem. We don't know who he could be, and now you want to get him involved in this?"

Sam shot Castiel a look, nodding in a way that was almost encouraging, and Castiel thought that he understood what Sam wanted. So he faced John, ready to speak up in his defense. He was going to promise that he would never in his life do anything to hurt either Sam or Dean, that there was no force in the world that could make him do such a thing, and to swear that he could be trusted.

Then Dean looked over at Castiel and said, "Wait, I thought that you two worked a case together?"

For a moment, Castiel swore that the motel room was completely silent, to the point where he couldn't even hear the other's breathing, and could only make out the faint cry of four days in the back of his mind. Everyone in the room was staring at him. Dean and Sam both looked genuinely confused, with maybe a small amount of suspicion appearing in their eyes and seconds ticked past without Castiel answering. John Winchester, though, looked at him completely differently than his sons did. There was no attempt to hide his suspicion, or to even pretend that he felt any trust for Castiel at all.

There was nothing that Castiel could say that could make this better. He could lie, but John would reveal his deceit immediately – and more than that, Castiel didn't actually wish to deceive either of them. But even though he had planned on revealing the truth to Sam or Dean, he had not planned on doing it quite this soon, or quite like this.

They were all still watching him, waiting to hear what he had to say. But there was nothing, and no way to defend his actions.

Castiel knew that he should just come out and confess his lies right now, before he made it any worse. But his throat felt dry, and his tongue seemed to be made of lead. He couldn't make the words come out.

So instead, he made the worst decision that he could have in that moment.

He turned and left the room.

The moment that the night air hit Castiel's skin, he wished that he could take back his decision. All that he had done was eliminate his chance at explaining to Sam and Dean, and cemented his guilt. He was sure that neither of them would trust him again after this, and he was suddenly struck with what a loss like that would mean. Part of him couldn't help but worry over where he would go, and where he would sleep without them. But it went beyond that. Their friendships meant more to him than the safety that their motel rooms gave him, and that was the one thing that he couldn't imagine losing.

He must have, though. This would not be easily forgiven.

Then he heard from behind him, "Jimmy!"

It was Dean's voice, and when he turned, he saw Sam and Dean exiting the motel room, and walking toward him. John was not with him, and neither man wore a look of betrayal or anger, as Castiel had been expecting. Instead, they looked more worried than anything else.

That would change once he had explained, Castiel was sure. But for the moment, it was nice to see, at least.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, stepping toward him, one hand raised like he was almost – but not quite – reaching out for Castiel.

Castiel shuffled his feet, and didn't answer. He couldn't even look the two of them in the eyes.

"I'm going to go get a motel room," Sam suddenly announced. "You two talk," he added, and left without saying another word, almost before Castiel ha even comprehended what he was doing. It took him only another moment to realize it, though. Sam was allowing him and Dean to speak alone.

That was a nice gesture, Castiel thought. It even gave him hope that maybe the brothers would still be willing to accept him, despite everything. It didn't seem likely, but he wanted to believe.

"Jimmy?" Dean asked after a moment.

Castiel looked up, meeting Dean's eyes. They were standing under a streetlight, giving Castiel more than enough light to clearly see Dean's features. "In my defense," he began slowly, "I never did claim that I had worked with your father, only that I knew of him, and that I was investigating the same demon that he has been hunting." He paused, then admitted, "Although, I did know that you and your brother had assumed otherwise, and I did nothing to dispel your assumption, so I suppose that I can't be defended much."

Dean, though, nodded slowly. "Yeah, I remember that now," he said. "You're right, you never actually said that you knew Dad."

Castiel watched him closely, searching for any sign that Dean had forgiven him, and wasn't quite sure if he found it or not. To be honest, he didn't have the slightest clue what the emotions in Dean's eyes meant.

"Why, though?" Dean suddenly asked. "Why'd you let us keep thinking that?"

Castiel took a deep breath. "I wanted to continue hunting with you," he said. "I didn't have anywhere else to go, as you knew. And it seemed as though you would be more inclined to allow me to remain with you if I had been a hunting partner of your father. It seemed to make you trust me more. That was my only reason for the deception."

Again, Dean nodded. "And are you lying to us about anything else?"

"Yes," Castiel admitted. The word was incredibly difficult to say, even though he tried his best to act as though the word came easily, to try to hide the way that his insides were squirming with fear that Dean would want nothing else to do with him now.

Dean, though, just shrugged and leaned back against the Impala, tilting his head back to look up at the streetlight. "Yeah, I kinda figured," he said. "I mean, we agreed on it, didn't we? I keep my secrets, you keep yours." Something about the way that he spoke made Castiel think that that wasn't the end, though. That Dean was going to say something more. So Castiel simply moved forward to lean against the trunk of the car with Dean, and watched him, waiting. Sure enough, it was only a few seconds more before Dean turned to him and asked, "Jimmy? What the hell is going on with you?"

Castiel squared his shoulders and decided that, this time, he would do nothing to be deceptive. He would not mislead Dean with half truths, or say things that could be deliberately misconstrued. He had known that he would have to be honest eventually. Now would be the time.

The thought was terrifying, though, and he had to swallow hard before asking, "What, specifically, do you mean?"

"I mean," Dean said, and thought for a second before finishing, "Where the hell did you come from?"

That was a simple question, at least. Simple in that Castiel knew the answer, even though it wouldn't be easy to make himself say it. But he made himself continue to look toward Dean's face – even waited until Dean turned to look at him again – and said, as clearly as he could, "I'm not sure."

Dean was confused, that much was clear. He didn't understand. But he didn't ask, just waited for Castiel to continue.

Castiel cocked his head to one side, considering the best way to go about explaining this. "The name Jimmy Novak is fake, I think," he began, then quickly amended, "It did seem simpler to just introduce myself by that name, though, since I have the ID that calls me that. And I guess I have no proof that the ID is faked, except for the fact that it just... doesn't feel right to me."

"What's your real name, then?" Dean asked. There was still confusion in his voice – he didn't know what Castiel meant – but also worry and concern now, and several other emotions that Castiel couldn't identify.

"I..." Castiel hesitated. "I suppose I can't actually be certain of that, either," he finally admitted. "But I chose the name Castiel. That's how I think of myself, usually, and I feel like it fits me better than Jimmy. Though, again, I suppose I could be called either."

"Castiel," Dean repeated slowly. "That angel name."

"Yes," Castiel said.

Dean just waited, clearly expecting Castiel to say more.

"I woke up approximately two weeks before we met," Castiel said. "I did not know who I was, or where I had come from. I suppose you could say that I... that I panicked somewhat. I left the room that I was in – it had been a hotel room, I'm reasonably sure – and didn't look around well enough to know how to get back to it. So I stayed on the streets for a while, until I learned of a men's shelter where I could stay."

Dean was silent for a long minute. "Okay," he finally said, slowly. "Say I believe that. Stranger things have happened, right? I mean, about the time that you were waking up with your mind wiped, I was waking up after being healed from certain death by some freakyass glowing light that we still don't know what the fuck it was, so as far as weird stories go, I think that mine wins." He paused again, then said, "But the how the hell did you know to come looking for us? And how do you know about our dad?"

"I am not sure," Castiel said, choosing to answer the second question first. "I had never known anything about your father, until I began to hear you speak of him. Then, it was as though the name suddenly appeared in my head." He frowned. "My theory is that something you said began to trigger my memories to return, and I had hoped that staying with you might allow my memories to return further."

"And did it work?" Dean asked.

Castiel's frown deepened. "To a certain extent, yes," he said. "Not as much as I would've hoped."

"Well, ain't that shitty," Dean said, the took a deep breath. "Okay, I believe you."

Castiel watched him closely. "Are you certain?"

"Yeah," Dean said, and let out a huff of breath. "You told me that you had secrets, remember? I mean, fuck, I thought that they'd be something a lot simpler than this, like you were just using us to help with some freaky vengeance mission to kill your family's murderer, or that you were a psychic or a witch or something."

Castiel raised his eyebrows. "And you believe that those would be simple secrets?"

"Well, yeah," Dean said. "At least that'd be somewhat normal."

Castiel couldn't help but chuckle at that. It seemed as though Dean's view of what was normal was highly skewed. Although, then again, Castiel was certain that his own views were skewed in the same way after just a few weeks of hunting, so he supposed that Dean would barely know what normal was supposed to look like after hunting for his whole life.

Dean smiled back, then glanced over toward the motel building and gestured for Castiel to do the same. "Sam's finished getting the room," he said, and Castiel glanced over in time to see Sam unlock a door and enter, turning back just long enough to make sure that Dean and Castiel saw him before closing the door behind him. "We should probably grab our stuff and go get moved in."

"Yes," Castiel agreed, and stepped away from the car. Dean popped the trunk, and they both grabbed their bags – with Dean throwing Sam's duffel over his other shoulder – then locked up the car again.

Before they took a step toward the motel, though, Dean turned to Castiel. "One more thing," he said. "Are you hiding anything else?"

Only the fact that he heard voices.

Only the biggest secret out of all of the things that he had been trying to hide.

"Yes," Castiel said. "One."

Dean nodded thoughtfully, then asked, "You want to tell me what it is now?"

"Not particularly, no," Castiel said honestly, though he was quick to add, "but I will, if you would like me to."

He meant it, too, despite how worried he was. But if Dean could listen to the other things that Castiel had told him and not wish to send him away, then perhaps this last secret would be alright, too. He could hope, at least, even if he still wasn't certain.

Dean, though, just shook his head. "Nah," he said, hoisting the bags higher on his shoulders. "If you tell me all of your secrets, then I'm going to feel bad about not sharing mine, and we can't have that." He turned to Castiel with a grin that only looked the slightest bit forced, then nodded toward the motel room. "Come on, Jimmy."

They both took a few steps forward, but then Dean stopped. Castiel paused as well, tilting his head as Dean turned to look at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I guess I should call you Castiel, now, huh?" he asked.

"You don't have to," Castiel said. "I have grown used to responding to the name Jimmy. It doesn't bother me at all."

"Yeah, but that's not the name you prefer, right?" Dean asked, and Castiel nodded, feeling compelled to answer honestly. The name Jimmy just never felt right to his ears, as though he still were not used to hearing it.

Dean thought for a moment, then nodded back. "Okay, then, Cas," he said. "Come on, let's go back to the motel before Sammy steals the good bed."

Dean started to walk. Castiel, though, remained where he was. "Cas?" he asked.

"It's a nickname," Dean said, glancing over his shoulder. "Figured it didn't sound as pretentious and shit as Castiel did. You like it?"

He considered it for a moment, but it didn't take him more than a few seconds to begin to smile. "Yes, I think that I enjoy that nickname."

"Well, good," Dean said, then turned and kept walking. "Then let's go."

And Cas nodded, then continued smiling to himself as he followed Dean to the motel, feeling as though he were practically floating from the strength of the relief that ran through him as he realized that Dean still accepted him, he still had a place to stay, and his friends had not left him, despite everything.

It seemed as though that night was made up almost entirely of secret conversations between two people while the third was in the bathroom.

It began with Sam insisting that Cas should take the first shower. Sam didn't try to keep his reasons a secret. "I want to talk to Dean in private," he said simply.

Cas had agreed, of course, and lingered under the shower's spray for as long as he could. Normally, he wouldn't take up nearly as much time – the hot water in motel rooms was typically limited, and he didn't want to use it up before the Winchesters had gotten a chance. But today, though, he figured that it was allowed, perhaps even preferable. As long as the water was still slowing over him, it did a good job of blocking out the Winchester's voices.

So obviously he did not know what the two brothers spoke about, but Dean must have shared Cas' story at some point. As soon as he exited the bathroom, dressed in his sleep clothing, Dean headed off to take his own shower, and Sam looked straight at Cas and said, "So, uh, Castiel."

"Yes?' Cas asked, lowering himself into a chair to sit and face Sam.

For a moment, Sam didn't respond, then he said, slowly, "I guess I can see why you wouldn't want to tell us all of that as soon as we met."

Cas frowned. He had spent so much time worrying about how Dean would react, he had barely given a thought to Sam being upset with him. Now, though, he was worried. After all, the deception had affected the younger Winchester brother as much as the elder one. He quickly scooted his chair forward, moving his chair closer to Sam, and leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, watching Sam intently. "I'm sorry," he said honestly, hoping that Sam would be able to tell how deeply he meant it. "I did not mean to harm anyone with my deception."

Sam hesitated for a minute, then nodded. "Yeah, I got that," he said. "It's fine."

Cas relaxed, utterly relieved. He wasn't entirely sure what he would've done if Sam was angry with him, or if he had lost Sam's friendship.

"Dean definitely believes everything that you said, anyway," Sam added after a moment, then added, "You know, I meant what I said before, about you being good for Dean and all that."

Cas tilted his head. "I hope that I am," he said after a long moment. "I hope that I'm helpful to you and your brother." He frowned, and added, "I believe that I can tell you now, I mean it when I say that you and Dean are the closest to a family that I can ever remember happening."

Sam smiled. Not a happy smile, not exactly, but it was something. "Aren't you curious, though?" he asked. "Don't you want to do something to figure out where you came from?"

"I thought that I was," Cas said. "I'm guessing that Dean told you that hints of my memories have been returning?" Sam nodded, and Cas added, "It isn't a lot, but I think that it is helping, at least."

"That's good," Sam said, "but do you want to do anything more? I mean, I could help you do some research online. If you went missing from somewhere when your memories disappeared, then there's got to be an article online somewhere. And you said that Jimmy Novak was an alias, right? But it might still be a place to start."

Cas considered that. It was the same offer that Father Garcia had made back at the men's shelter all those weeks ago. And now, just like then, Cas found himself tempted. And nerve wracking.

"That does sound like a good idea," he admitted slowly. "Perhaps not right now, though?"

Sam had already been reaching for his laptop, but now he paused, turning to Cas with a confused expression.

"With everything that has happened lately, and the fact that we are in the midst of hunting the demon with your father-" He hesitated over the exact wording, then finally finished, "This seems like it would be too much."

Sam looked at him for a long minute, then nodded. "Yeah, I can see that," he said after a moment, then pushed his laptop to the side again. "Okay. But if you ever do want to figure it out, let me know."

"I will," Cas said seriously, then frowned to himself for a moment before deciding to ask the question that was bothering him. Part of him worried that this would be considered an invasion of Dean's privacy, but all the same, he had to ask. "Do you know anything about the secret that Dean is keeping?"

Instantly, Sam stiffened and sat up, looking far more alert than he had a moment ago. "No," he said. "What secret?"

"I'm not sure," Cas said slowly. "When we first began to date – not counting the first time we had sex a week earlier – we agreed that we were both fine with the fact that the other person had secrets that they weren't sharing. I suppose that that is why Dean wasn't more angry when he learned the truth earlier this evening." He tilted his head, frowning deeper. "And when we were speaking outside, he mentioned the secret again. I was wondering if you knew what it was?"

"No," Sam said, also frowning now, looking like he was thinking hard about something. "I'll see what I can figure out."

"I don't want to betray his privacy by trying to find the answer," Cas said quickly. Especially since Dean had allowed him to keep his last secret – the angels' voices – despite knowing the severity of the other secrets that Cas had kept.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, then added, "but you're not going to be the one to look. Trust me, brothers are allowed to go snooping into each other's business."

Cas thought about that for a minute, and then he smiled, relieved. Despite what he had said about respecting Dean's privacy, he was worried about whatever it was that Dean could be hiding. He wasn't particularly worried about the idea that it could be something that would make Cas not wish to be with him any longer – he didn't think that that was a possibility – but he did worry that it might be something serious, something that Dean shouldn't be dealing with alone, whatever it was. So he looked Sam in the eyes now and said, fervently, "Thank you."

"No problem," Sam said, but Cas was already shaking his head, cutting him off.

"I mean this with complete sincerity," he said. "And I am not just talking about the offer to search for whatever Dean is hiding." He took a deep breath, phrasing his words carefully. "Thank you for not being angry with me, and for being my friend. I hope that I don't have to tell you that I cherish our friendship just as much as I cherish my relationship with Dean."

Sam looked as though he hadn't been expecting all of that, but Cas thought that the expression on his face was a good one. "Thanks," Sam said, then added, "You've been a good friend, too, you know."

Cas smiled, but felt as thought the moment required something more. After a moment, he stood and stepped toward Sam, feeling slightly awkward as he did so, but only slightly.

"Cas?" Sam asked – apparently Dean's nickname had spread. "What are you-?"

Cas wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders, which was awkward and uncomfortable, because Sam was still sitting on the edge of his bed, which meant that Cas had to bend over. Luckily, Sam was tall enough that he didn't have to bend far. "I am giving you a hug," he said simply, then frowned. "Isn't that the way to express friendship and emotion?"

Sam chuckled softly. "Yeah, I guess," he said, then after a moment, he lifted one arm to hug Cas back.

The bathroom door opened then. "Oh, come on, I leave the room for two minutes and you start cuddling with my boyfriend behind my back?" Dean asked.

Cas could tell from the tone of Dean's voice that he wasn't serious, not even so, Cas did quickly remove his arms from Sam and step back. Then he turned to look over at Dean. "I will cuddle with you instead, if you prefer."

Sam just snorted, and Dean looked amused as well. Cas took that as a good sign, and walked over to wrap his arms around Dean. It was an awkward angle, just as his hug with Sam had been, with Dean's arm and shoulder pressed against Cas' chest and Cas' arms stretched out all the way in front of him in order to circle Dean's entire body. And it didn't help that Dean was laughing instead of hugging him back.

"I'm going to go get ready," Sam said, jumping to his feet and grabbing his duffle. "You'd better have left me some hot water."

"No promises," Dean called over his shoulder as Sam headed into the bathroom, making Cas feel slightly guilty about how much of the water he had used. The door slammed behind Sam, and Dean grinned, then turned to look at Cas. "Hey."

"Hello," Cas said back. Dean gestured toward the second bed, and Cas nodded, releasing Dean so that they could both go over and sit on it. Dean leaned back against the headboard, legs stretched in front of him, while Cas sat cross-legged beside him, turned so that he and Dean faced each other.

"I take it that your talk with Sam went well?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded. "Very well," he said. "He seemed… accepting of the fact that I had been lying about my past. It was more than I could hope for."

"Oh, trust me, he was freaking out when I first told him," Dean said. "He calmed down pretty quickly, though."

Cas frowned, suddenly feeling far more uncertain about the way that Sam had reacted. "But you're sure that he isn't upset?"

"Oh yeah," Dean said quickly, and shrugged, rubbing one shoulder and looking only slightly uncomfortable as he said, "I mean, I'm sure he wishes that you'd told him sooner and all that, but what's he going to do? You're family, man. He got over it."

Cas smiled, feeling as though Dean's words were filling him up inside. He liked to be considered the Winchesters' family, and he thought that he would never stop being grateful that they saw him this way.

"I told Sam that you were hiding a secret," Cas said after a moment. "Or, I asked him if he knew anything about your secret, and he didn't know what I was referring to, so I had to explain." He wasn't sure if he should be saying this or not. After all, it might be easier for Sam to discover what had Dean was hiding if Dean didn't know that Sam was trying to figure it out, and Cas very much wanted Sam to figure it out – for Dean's sake, more than anything else. But after everything that Dean had done, it didn't seem fair not to at least warn him. And he didn't want Dean to feel as though his trust had been betrayed.

Dean's face darkened, but he shook his head. "Fine," he said shortly. "Just don't expect me to go telling him, okay?"

Cas hesitated. "Whatever it is, it can't be so serious that you have to keep it from us."

"It is," Dean said shortly, and looked away. "I don't know what the last thing that you're hiding is, but trust me, mine is worse. You don't want to know what it is."

"That's not true," Cas said at once. "Whatever your secret is, I promise you that it will not make me think any less of you. I would much rather face this together."

Dean just nodded, and if that meant anything to him, he didn't let it show on his face. "Thanks," he said shortly, then stood and walked away. They only had one room, so it wasn't as though he could go far. If Cas wanted to, it would be easy to follow after Dean, to force him to continue this conversation.

He didn't, though. He could tell that Dean wouldn't be happy if he was forced into a discussion, and after the way that Dean had accepted the fact that Cas was keeping secrets, he had no choice but to do the same.

But he would figure it out, he promised himself. Whatever was worrying Dean, he would discover it, and they would face it out together.

He didn't know how he was going to accomplish this. All he knew was that he would figure it out, for Dean.

Cas nodded to himself with determination, then settled into the bed to go to sleep. It was only another moment before Dean joined him, sliding into bed behind Cas and wrapping his arms around him. It took Dean barely five minutes before his breathing grew steady and his arms relaxed as he slept, but Cas remained awake for far longer than that, his mind whirling with the events of the day.

"I am going to find your secret, Dean Winchester," Cas whispered aloud, precisely because he knew that Dean could not hear him. "And I am going to save you."