**********

"Hey give Cas a call, will you?" Dean called out over the roar of the shower before breaking into a second verse of "Simple Man".

The night before, they had finalized the plan for the convent trip. After a lengthy argument, Dean had won out. Now, Sam adjusted the collar over his clerical shirt while looking in the crooked hotel mirror. "They won't question ministers," Dean had insisted. "And if they do, Cas'll be there to slap some biblical knowledge down onto them."

"We're so going to hell," murmured Sam to himself as he dialed the angel with one hand and combed his freshly washed hair with the other. "Again."

When Castiel appeared, Sam knew enough not to be startled by the sudden arrival. What did startle him was the angel's appearance.

There were bags under Castiel's eyes and a complete absence of color from his cheeks. His nose was so red it was almost comical.

"Hello Sam," he greeted gravely. "Are we ready to go?"

His voice was almost gone, reduced to a hoarse rumble. The cough, which punctuated his question, had a sharp painful quality to it and it brought tears to his eyes.

Sam eyed him up and down, incredulous. "Wow Cas, you don't look so good. Are you okay?"

Castiel looked back, curiously. "I have a cold, Sam. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah but, I mean, you look really bad. Where did you go last night?"

"I was waiting while you slept."

"Waiting where?"

Instead of speaking Castiel pointed a finger out the window across the parking lot.

"You waited outside?"

He nodded.

"All night?"

"I wanted to be close in case you needed anything."

"Cas, it rained last night."

"Only until four," he croaked. "It then slowed to a drizzle until about five-thirty and was completely over by six."

Sam sighed but before he could continue, Dean emerged in a blast of steam, holding a towel around his waist.

He looked at Castiel and let out a low whistle. "Dude, you look like death."

Leaning confidentially toward his brother, Sam whispered. "Dean, I think maybe Cas should sit this one out."

Dean looked past to see the angel furtively trying to blow his nose without making a sound.

"Hey Cas, do you need to sit this one out?"

Castiel flushed and shoved the handkerchief into his trenchcoat pocket. "No Dean, I'm okay."

Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder with his free hand. "There you go Sammy, he's fine."

Without another word he grabbed his own costume and disappeared again into the bathroom to get dressed.

The Sisters of St. Agnes hailed from a squat brick building on a crowded Chicago street corner. School children played double dutch in the street and slightly older children smoked and leaned against a parked car. One boy, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, frantically tossed a cigarette butt to the ground when the trio neared.

"Good morning, Fathers," he greeted with a mockingly sweet tone.

Sam nodded silently but Dean strode forth, resting a hand lightly on the hood of the car.

"Is this a '71 Camaro?" he asked, salivating. "Man this car is such a chick magnet." He looked up from the beautiful machine to see both the boy and his brother staring at him.

"Uh, I mean," he righted himself. "You shouldn't fornicate. Or smoke."

"Nice job, Dean," Sam said, dryly, as they walked away.

Castiel sneezed and Sam pulled a packet of Kleenex he had strategically remembered to bring.

"No thank you," Castiel said. "I found this in Jimmy's coat." He pulled from the folds a wrinkled handkerchief. "I prefer it."

Dean grimaced at the sight. "Gross dude." He walked a few paces ahead. Castiel mumbled to Sam.

"You know, perhaps I will take those tissues. It is more sanitary."

Without looking, Sam passed the packet to Castiel and strode to walk beside his brother.

"Dude why are you being such a jackass to Cas lately?"

"What?" Dean looked back to see the angel fiddling with the plastic wrapping. "What are you talking about?"

"You know he's not feeling good but you're still giving him shit whenever you get the chance."

"Aw come on man, he knows I'm kidding."

"I don't think he does, Dean."

"Of course he does." Dean stopped walking and waiting a moment for Castiel to catch up. He had finally freed a tissue from the pack and now pressed it desperately to his runny nose. He looked up at the boys just before running into them.

"What?" he asked, mildly indignant.

"Cas, man, you know you really don't have to come out if you're not feeling up to it."

Castiel sniffed thickly before returning the tissue to his coat pocket. "I am perfectly able to work."

"Are you sure?" A hint of sympathy had inched into Dean's voice and Castiel hardened against it.

"Absolutely. It is only a human illness."

"Fair enough," Dean eyed Castiel warily. The angel quickly changed the subject.

"So what lie are we going to tell in this situation?"

Sam winced at the expression but explained. "You and Dean are from the Archdioces trying to decide whether to allocate funding for their orphanage. I'm going to need a lengthy bathroom break in the building."

"Last night was taco night at the monastery," Dean quipped.

"Well then," Castiel began to speak but his eyes glazed over. Quickly he pulled the tissue from his pocket and used it to pinch his nose tightly until he his breathing again became regular. He continued, "Let's do it."

**********

"As you can see, there is not nearly sufficient space to accommodate all the children we have here," Sister Mary Catherine's nasally voice fit well with her pointed chin and severe eyes. She held open a door as Dean and Castiel entered her office.

"We have nearly 35 wards sharing 10 dormatory rooms. Ideally we would like to expand our building so that housing and classes would be kept separate. That way the children develop a stronger sense of home."

From the corner of his eye, Dean could see that Castiel was fighting off another sneeze and spoke up.

"How do you get most of your wards?" He struggled to maintain his holy visage, adding a smile to his question. Being a detective came so much more naturally.

"It's mostly young unwed mothers, prostitutes often, who want their children free from the sins that plagued their own lives." She smiled and the expression seem alien on her wrinkled face. "We are blessed to be able to help who we can."

"Any unsual cases?" Dean asked, then corrected himself. "I mean like, heart-warming stories, sob stories, little girls who want to join up one day? When we present your case to the diocese, adding a personal touch might help."

The nun pursed her lips and thought.

Castiel rubbed his nose with his palm and tried to keep the water out of his eyes.

"There is someone…" she began.

Unfortunately, at this moment, Castiel lost his battle and pitched forward in a fit of sneezing. "Aitchii! Aitchii!! Aitchii!!!"

Dean failed to keep the scowl from his face.

"I'b so sorry," the angel rasped when he could speak again. He wiped his eyes and tried not to look at his partner.

"God bless you," said Mary Catherine cordially.

Castiel turned and fixed his gaze on her. His face warmed and a smile broke.

"Thank you," he said emphatically.

"Anyway, sister," Dean interrupted. "You were telling us about a girl, err, an orphan?"

"Yes, well she is very interested in becoming a nun, actually. It's highly unusual for one of our wards to choose this path. I'm afraid most of them who come as children find our teachings a bit too," she paused and thought, "stringent."

"But this girl…" Dean prompted.

"Yes, Kasey Harbor. She had always been elated with our work. She volunteers with us and prays with us. When you put in our request, you really should mention Kasey."

She eyed Castiel who was trying to cough without opening his mouth.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, actually it's quite sad…" Mary Catherine was again interrupted by a violent sneeze from Castiel. It set him off into a fit of coughing that doubled him at the waist. When he righted himself, tears streamed from his red eyes.

"Look Father Cobain," the nun looked pained. "Father Hendrix is clearly unwell and, while I don't wish to seem ungrateful, we really can't afford the germs right now. The children are just getting over a flu outbreak. Why don't I just send you Kasey's file?"

"Of course. That would be fine." Dean hesitated to agree but the nun had already risen to see them out.

In the parking lot, Sam leaned against the Impala, waiting. Ealier than anticipated he saw Dean emerge from the yard, brow furrowed and stride quick. Behind him skulked Castiel looking miserable.

"What happened?" He asked but Dean held up a hand.

"Not now Sam."

He moved past the young Winchester and slid into the driver's seat. Sam pulled up beside him and raised a hand to the sullen Castiel as they pulled away. He was torn with guilt for allowing Dean to leave him there, but knew better than to take his brother on when he was in this bad a mood. Later he would reason with him. They'd call Castiel to come over, give him a bed to sleep in. Maybe Dean would even make him some of his famous cold-busting tea. For now, though, Sam had to be content to ride along in silence while his brother fumed.

Castiel watched them pull from the parking lot sure he could sink no lower. After being rejected by his brothers, having his charges abandon him was a blow he found surprisingly harsh.

He coughed once, pressing a hand to his aching chest. With the other, he reached into his pocket and pulled a flier he had snagged from the church bulletin board.

He would make this right. He had to.