Huffing, Sam dragged two cots out of a spare bedroom and lined them up next to each other. "Yes, this will do nicely," Pahaliah said. "You can leave your bodies lying here. Better lock the house doors too; I'm certainly not going to sit here and watch over them for you. It'll be taxing enough to send you to Heaven and back."

"How long did you say we'd have?" Dean asked.

"Twelve hours," Pahaliah said. "Any longer and your bodies will probably start to deteriorate. After all, to all intents and purposes you will actually be dead."

"Dean, how exactly are we going to find Cas in twelve hours?" Sam cut in, brow furrowed.

Dean looked up at him. "I was thinking we'd find Ash. He's still kicking around up there right?"

A dawning expression flickered across Sam's face. "Of course," he said. "If we can find Ash, he should be able to find Cas for us. If he's still as well-connected as he was, that is."

"Excuse me, who is this Ash person?" Pahaliah asked.

"An old friend of ours," Dean answered, sitting down on the edge of one of the cots.

"Yeah, we got him killed a while back," Sam explained.

Pahaliah raised an eyebrow. "I…see."

"Is there a way you could poof us into Ash's heaven?" Dean asked. "It would definitely help speed things along."

"Yes, yes, whatever you say," Pahaliah sighed. "Now I'm really not keen on sticking around much longer boys, so can we move this along?"

"Go ahead then, do your thing." Dean lay down on his cot with a grunt, and Sam did the same.

Pahaliah stepped into the space between the two cots and lifted a hand over each of their foreheads. "Remember, twelve hours and you're back here, Cas or no Cas," he reminded them. "And if you fail, too bad. I'm not doing this again."

"Whatever," muttered Dean. "Work your mojo, angel boy."

The angel shot him a last, irritated look before laying his hands on both brothers' foreheads. There was a rushing sound and everything faded to brilliant white.

Somewhere overhead, a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves. Warm sunlight was spilling onto his face, lighting up his eyelids and drawing him out of a deep sleep. Sam sucked in a deep breath of crisp, earth-scented air and opened his eyes, looking up at the branches arcing overhead. It was midafternoon. The woods around him were quiet, peaceful, devoid of any sound save for the faint summer wind. Slowly, Sam sat up and looked around at the brush, feeling slightly groggy and wondering what he was doing here.

Seconds later the realization crashed into his brain, and he remembered everything. "Dean!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet, scattering leaves. "Dean, where are you?" Wildly he glanced around, but he couldn't see anyone. "Dean!" he shouted again, louder. "Ash! Anyone!"

"Yo," a vaguely familiar voice drawled from behind him.

Sam whirled around to see the pasty young man standing there, hands in his pockets. "Ash!" he exclaimed, relieved that at least that part had gone right.

"Sam, buddy, nice to see you again," Ash said with a goofy grin, coming over and grasping Sam's hand. He looked precisely the same as he'd always looked; pale-skinned, hair cut into an outrageous mullet, and wearing the same plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off. Belatedly he wrinkled his forehead into what may have been a concerned look. "Er…sorry that you're dead, bro."

"What? Oh no, we're not dead," Sam said quickly. "Just another visit, courtesy of an angel."

"Jesus, when did they start catering to the tourist industry up here?" Ash said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You said 'we'. Is Dean here too?"

"He should be," said Sam, glancing around. "That was the plan. Dean!"

Ash stopped moving and a thoughtful look crossed his face. "Yeah, he's in the Roadhouse," he said. "Hold on." He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

Suddenly Sam was standing on a hardwood floor next to a banged-up bar, and there was a high ceiling overhead with exposed rafters. All around him was the familiar interior of the Roadhouse bar, and the musty scent curling into his nose invoked intense nostalgia. Immediately he saw that Dean was standing next to a table, looking around somewhat dazedly. Ash grinned and strolled around behind the bar. "So, what'll it be? At this rate you two will practically have a usual."

"Ash, man, good to see you," Dean greeted him, coming over to the bar. "Really, I was afraid we'd end up God knows where."

"Nice teleportation skills you've got," Sam added, sliding onto a barstool.

"It is my Heaven," Ash said, plunking a pair of beers down in front of them. "I can do what I want." He watched as Dean and Sam grasped the bottles and each took a swig. "Now, tell me, what brings you guys to my corner of the woods?"

Dean and Sam exchanged glances. "We're looking for someone," Dean said. "The angel, Castiel. Well, former angel now. He…he died a few weeks ago. We're trying to bring him back."

Ash looked back and forth at their faces. "Well…that's nice and all," he said carefully. "But…why? No offense guys, but when you die, ain't you supposed to stay dead? I mean, isn't that kind of the point? I didn't see you try to bring me, or Ellen, or Jo back."

"Yeah, well, times have changed." Dean took another drink of beer.

Ash raised an eyebrow and looked at Sam, but Sam just gave a quiet shrug. "I…see," he drawled, clearly not seeing. "Well, whatever. You have your reasons. I suppose then you didn't stop by just to catch up."

"Nope," said Sam. "We were hoping you'd be able to help us locate him."

Ash nodded. "That I can do." He bent over and dragged a clunky steampunk-mess of a laptop out from under the bar and set it down between them with a thud. "What's this guy's name again? Castiel?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Do you think you can find him?"

"Sure thing," Ash said. "It might take a couple of hours though. Heaven's kind of gigantic, in case you hadn't noticed."

"We know," Sam said.

Ash's fingers buzzed over the laptop keys and he frowned in concentration. "I'm setting it to look for abnormalities in Heaven's frequencies. You said this guy used to be an angel – well, he's going to have a different signature than all of the humans up here. Thousands of years of life will do that to a soul, you know?" Ash glanced up at Sam and Dean's blank faces, and then cleared his throat. "All right, that should do it," he said, tapping the enter key. "We'll have results in a few hours. In the meantime, I say we party! Eh boys? Let's blow the roof off this bitch!" Ash clapped his hands and looked up at both of them expectantly.

Sam looked doubtfully over at Dean, whose mouth had twitched into a small grin. "Three's a bit small for a party, don't you think?" Dean asked.

"Three? Nah, three's a crowd," Ash said, wending his way through the tables to the front door. "Nevertheless, you should know me well enough to know that I, of all people, can rustle up a party no problem." He grabbed the front door and flung it open. "Ellen!" he hollered. "Pamela! Rufus! Bobby! Jo!"

Dean gave Sam a wide-eyed glance before they both stood and stared at the small group now wending their way through the front door of the Roadhouse. "Sam! Dean!" Ellen exclaimed, Jo peeking out from behind her with a grin. They hurried across the room and Sam found himself being hugged tightly by Ellen. "Never thought I'd see you boys again," Ellen said in his ear. Sam smiled. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jo leap into Dean's arms and plant a firm kiss on his lips.

Ellen broke away from Sam, looking up at him happily as Bobby and Rufus made their way over. "Bobby, you made it to the right place," Sam said, grasping his outstretched hand and clasping him in a hug.

"You got that right," said Bobby, his face crinkling into a smile. "I got no idea how I managed it."

"Yeah, me neither with all the crap this guy pulled while we were kicking around together," Rufus said jovially, clapping Sam's shoulder. "Good to see you Sam. And you too Dean, both of you."

Dean stepped over and gave Bobby a quick embrace. "It's been too long," he said. "Way too long." He took a step back and looked around at all of their faces. "I feel…guys, look."

Pamela cut across him. "Don't you dare start apologizing," she told him, fixing him with a knowing stare. "Neither of you. Our deaths were not your fault, you know that."

Sam looked around at them, a strange feeling in his chest. Dean's expression was unreadable. "It isn't fair though," he said softly. "That we should live, despite everything we've done."

"Speak for yourself, I feel like you're the ones who got the short end of the stick," said Bobby.

"It's Heaven, we really can't complain," Ellen said, a small grin on her face.

"Someday, you'll get it," said Jo.

"All right, all right, enough with the touchy-feely stuff!" said Ash, thrusting himself into the middle of the group. "Let's do this reunion properly. Heavy drinking and loud music!"