Day 4

The next morning, Sam walked into the library with two plates, each bearing an egg white veggie omelette. He set one near Missouri who was hunched over the crossword puzzle from one of the old newspapers Sam had left in the recycling bin. As they expected from yesterday, there was too much standing water for them to go out and find today's paper. He kept the other plate for himself and sat down across from the psychic.

"So you're in a good mood this morning," he observed. "I take it you had a decent night's sleep even though you weren't in your own bed?"

"Let's just say I got some good news last night, and I'll leave it at that," Missouri replied with a pleasant smile.

"Okay..." Sam started eating about the same time Dean rounded the corner from the control room. His hair was disheveled from sleep, and he wore his grey robe over a black shirt that might have been the one he had been wearing the day before. Bare feet slapped the floor as he entered the library. Directly behind him was Cas, hair also in disarray. The angel was still pushing his arm through the sleeve of his trench coat as he walked. Sam blinked and furrowed his brow. Angels don't sleep; why had he taken off his-

Sam's eyes widened, brow lifted and smoothed. He sat up straight and looked at Dean. His brother was still bleary-eyed, and completely missed Sam's change in demeanor as he shuffled wordlessly past the table where Sam and Missouri sat, heading, Sam assumed, for the coffee pot in the kitchen. Sam managed to catch Cas's eye from the end of the table where he had stopped walking, but all he got from Cas was a gruff "Good morning" as he settled into his coat.

Finally, he turned back to Missouri. She had a twinkle in her eye and an even bigger smile on her face. That was enough to confirm Sam's suspicion. "About damn time," he blurted. Missouri let out a high, infectious laugh that swept an answering chuckle from Sam.

"You said it," she agreed.

Sam turned his amused face to Cas where he stood off to the side, still adjusting the collar and lapels of his coat. Cas looked back at him, his face blank at first, but slowly, a ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth. "I can say I am pleased with this turn of events."

"Heh," Sam breathed out. "Me too."

"You're... okay with this arrangement?"

"Well, yeah. Cas, if it makes you and my brother happy, of course I'm okay with it."

Cas tilted his head and squinted slightly. "Sam, I feel I should disabuse you of the notion that we had intercourse."

"Uhh, o-okay. I- no- you- um-" Sam's stammering pulled another laugh from Missouri.

"Castiel, honey, I don't think Sam requires any details in any direction. If you're happy, he's happy. That's all."

Cas nodded, and Sam watched as his eyes left Missouri and picked up to the doorway on the other side of the room. The angel's expression barely changed, but Sam saw a brightness bloom in his eyes, a brightness directed at Dean. Sam couldn't help himself. He eagerly turned in his chair to look at his brother and to examine his face when he saw how Cas was looking at him. Dean's expression gave him nothing. It was the same tired, stoic face he had been wearing when he had passed through on his mission for coffee. Sam saw Dean's eyes bounce up to look at Cas over the rim of the mug he was slurping out of, and nothing showed. It was kind of a let down.

"Don't let it get to you, darlin'," Missouri said softly. "Rest assured, he feels it too."

Sam favored her with another smile. "Good."

"Now maybe we can get some work done," she murmured.

Sam snickered in response, but the wave of amusement was short-lived as the others joined them at the table -Dean next to Missouri, Cas next to Sam- and they got down to business. He hadn't known last night why everyone suddenly disappeared into their rooms, but he had chosen to use the alone time to research. Digging through every reference book they had on rainfall, on the Great Flood specifically, had given him nothing but hours of wasted time. It was when he reflected on past experiences and what they had learned through it all that he had actually come up with something.

"Seven years ago, we asked a psychic for help," he began.

"Pamela," Dean chimed in.

"Pamela," Sam repeated.

"But we screwed up," Dean said, concern creasing his brow. Next to him, Sam felt Cas shift in his seat, reacting to Dean's discomfort. "We asked for her help, and then we let her die."

"Our whole situation back then was screwed up, no question. We made mistakes, and people we cared about paid the price. Now we can lament over it, or you can remember that Pamela said she doesn't mind being in Heaven and hear me out."

"Fine," the word was grumbled from behind the rim of Dean's coffee mug.

"Alright. So the help we got from Pamela was to send us into the veil via astral projection, right? In the veil, we were able to see things on another plain, things we can't see when we're in our regular bodies."

"And?"

"And I think there might be something similar in Heaven."

"What?" Cas asked.

"Think about it," Sam continued. "Heaven is already filled with infinite different 'heavens,' one for each soul up there. Why couldn't there be a veil across those individual heavens that can only be seen when someone is in a different form?"

"What are you suggesting, Sam?" Cas inquired warily.

Sam took a deep breath, hoping he wasn't about to sound as crazy as he felt. "Angelic astral projection."

"Excuse me?"

"My theory is that when Chuck and the Darkness went away, they did actually go to Heaven. They just... aren't in Heaven as we know it; they're on a different plain. That's why the angels can't find them."

Cas squinted at Sam, clearly still not fully understanding what Sam was saying.

"He wants me to send your astral form to Heaven, Castiel," Missouri finally joined the conversation. Sam looked across the table at her.

"Exactly," he said.

"Wait, can you do that with an angel?" Dean's question was one Sam had grappled with through a large portion of the night until he had found what he thought might be a viable answer.

"Yes," Sam lifted a finger as his voice took on a lecturing tone. "The Latin spell Pamela used on us called upon our minds to not just allow us be deceived but to want it."

"So?"

"So I think it's possible for a similar spell to be worked in Enochian for use on an angel."

"You think it's possible? You're talking about creating your own spell and using Cas as a damn guinea pig," Dean's voice was louder and sounded hostile.

"Well what other choice do we have?"

"One that doesn't involve shooting my- shooting Cas out of a damn canon with no way of knowing where he'll land or if he'll even survive."

"Dean, I am quite difficult to kill."

"No," Dean ignored Cas and kept his eyes squarely on Sam. "I'm not letting this happen. You come up with something else."

"Like what, Dean?" Exasperation tinged Sam's voice.

"Dean."

"I don't know. Something with more certainty than the words 'think' and 'possible.' We can't just throw a made up spell at him and hope it'll work."

"Dean."

"Fine, then you can sit up half the night and research. Be my guest. The rain is only going to keep falling while we're doing nothing."

"Dean."

"What, Cas?" Dean ripped his glare off of Sam and pinned it across the table where it softened. His anger wasn't at Cas, and whatever happened between them last night eased a tension Sam hadn't noticed until it was gone.

"It's done. We've agreed."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Castiel and I will work together to create the spell," Missouri said softly.

"You..." Dean's head swiveled between the psychic and the angel and back again. "You can't read his mind. How did you...?"

"I'm working on deciphering the colors," she replied matter-of-factly. "Plus there's a lot to be said about facial expressions and body language."

"Also, we wrote a note," Cas added in, holding up a corner torn from the newspaper. Written in the pencil Missouri had been using for the crossword puzzle were lines in two distinct handwriting styles:

This is your choice, not theirs. Are we making a spell?

Yes.

How long are we going to let them argue?

Sam looked down at the table, feeling abashed. He hadn't even asked Cas if he would be willing to do this. He had just taken it as a given that Cas would agree since it was the only option they had at the moment. He was grateful, though, that Cas was willing. Dean didn't seem like he was ready to back down, but he held his tongue for the moment. He was probably building a new point of argument that he could give against this whole thing. Dean had always been protective of both Sam and Cas. Sam knew, for his own protection, Dean was just filling his role as big brother, perhaps even as a father figure since Dean had had more of a hand in raising him than Dad ever did. For Cas, however, for the longest time, Sam just thought Dean had adopted him as a brother as well. Seeing them this morning, though, and seeing the way Cas had looked at his brother sparked dozens of memories of shared looks between the two of them. Looks Sam had never really paid much attention to. It was now so glaringly obvious that Sam didn't know why he hadn't noticed it before. It was no wonder Dean was railing against allowing Cas to send his astral projection into Heaven's veil with no guarantee it would even work. They only just now found something in each other, and Dean didn't want to let it go. Sam didn't want to be a part of forcing him to do so.

"You don't have to," he muttered softly.

"What's that?"

"You don't have to," Sam repeated more firmly, directing his attention to Cas. "Look, I appreciate that you're willing to try, but..." he glanced at Dean then back at Cas. "I get it. And we'll find something else. We always do."

"Sam." He turned to Missouri as she spoke his name. She wore a small, sad smile, and he knew she had read every bit of what had just tumbled through his head. "Your heart is in the right place. But I think you need to be reminded that this truly is not your decision, darlin'. This is a choice Castiel has to make."

"Missouri is a talented psychic," Cas said to Sam. "I trust in her abilities. We will write an effective spell. I will scour Heaven's veil in search of God." He turned to the open concern etched across Dean's face. "And I will return."

Before the brothers were both shooed away from the table, Missouri picked their brains from what they remembered of Pamela's incantation in an effort to compare it to her own knowledge and experiences. Dean was able to stammer out "Animum uhh... vault desss... umm..."

"Vult decipi ergo decipiatur," Sam finished for him.

"Show off," Dean grumbled. Sam smirked. "Oh, and it ended with 'Vis, vis, vis.'"

"Mmm hmm," Missouri hummed as she took notes. "And was there anything she said to pull you back, or was there a time limit that just ran out?"

You have got a great ass, was what Pamela had whispered to Sam when she pretended to say the incantation. He smiled at the memory while Missouri lifted an eyebrow at it. Sam cleared his throat.

"I want to say it was close to the same thing," Dean offered, oblivious to the silent interaction between Sam and Missouri.

"It was," Sam put in. "But she said 'imum' instead of "animum.'"

"That sounds about right," Missouri said softly, making more notes. "Anything else?"

"Not that I can remember," Dead said.

"Yeah, that's it," Sam agreed.

"Okay, that's all I need then." She looked up from her notes and took both brothers in with a glance. "Now, out. While we work."

.oOo.

Spell working with Missouri was a smooth, painless process, Cas decided. She asked the correct questions, accepted critiques while using them to better herself, and refused to become distracted by the brothers as they milled about in the next room and stared through the doorway, despite the fact she had told them to leave.

The final spell they settled upon was simple; the best ones were, in his experience. It had only taken them a couple hours to work through the logistics of it and agree that it was likely to be the most successful of everything they had discussed. Overall, Cas was pleased with the outcome.

It was in the next step that Cas found himself feeling a bit of trepidation. After all, he never actually written a spell before and had never attempted astral projection. Missouri assured him she had successfully performed the latter a number of times, and he found an immense amount of trust in her. It was that trust which allowed him to follow through with this plan with only a little worry.

Cas had been prepared to begin the procedure right there at the library table, but Dean and Sam had stopped them. "At least lay down," Dean had insisted. "Your vessel is going to slump over, all dead weight like you're, well, dead." So Cas had acquiesced, and Dean had offered his own bed.

Missouri placed herself on the bed next to him while Dean pulled the chair close to the other side and sat. Sam stood, dominating the doorway, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed. There was a row of lit candles across the shelf above the bed. Another sat on the table next to the bed. The room was very dim, but there was enough light to make out the expressions on the two faces closest to him. Missouri's features held a confidence that Cas appreciated. Dean, however, looked troubled.

Cas wished he knew what to say to ease Dean's fears. Nothing came to him, and all he could do was hold Dean's gaze in a silent plea for internal peace until Missouri prompted him to close his eyes and relax.

"Now we're going to do this just as we talked about," the soft voice was soothing. "Breathe slowly and open yourself to my words." Cas did as he was bid, and Missouri began the incantation. "Manin gahalana piripson," she intoned. "Torzul, torzul, torzul."

Cas waited to feel... something. Maybe a lifting or lightness to suggest his spirit had detached from his vessel? He was uncertain what he should have been feeling. After a moment, he opened his eyes to find Dean was still looking down at him. He glanced at Missouri then over at the shadow of Sam's silhouette in the doorway. "I am sorry, Sam. I appears the spell we concocted was unsuccessful." Sam didn't reply. Instead, it was Missouri who spoke.

"Well, I suppose now all we can do is wait." She stood and walked to the doorway. "I'll be in my room if you need me," she said to Sam as he moved to let her pass, then she was gone.

Cas sat up and let his legs swing down off of the bed where Missouri had been sitting. He squinted at Sam's back as Sam turned and left his position in the doorway without speaking. Cas then stood and turned to look at Dean. He was startled to see his vessel still abed. Dean was in his chair, looking down at the motionless form. He watched as Dean slipped his hand over the limp hand of his vessel and grip it tightly.

"You come back to me, you son of a bitch, you understand?" Dean's voice sounded thick.

"I understand, Dean." Cas understood more than the spoken words. He stretched out his wings and aimed for Heaven.

.oOo.

The glow of the corridor seemed muted when Cas grounded himself. Heaven's ways were typically a pristine white, but now it was... almost dim. Was something wrong in Heaven? Or was the dim light an effect of being in the veil? Voices behind him caught his attention. He turned to see two angels walking toward him, deep in conversation. One of them, Penemue, he recognized. The other was a face he had seen before but could not put a name to.

"Brothers," he greeted, but neither angel looked at him. They strode on, discussing the early use of pen and ink by humans. Cas tilted his head in consideration and held his position as they neared him. With each step they took, each moment they ignored him, Cas's resolve in his forming theory strengthened. Then, a silent breath seemed to fill the hall as the two angels walked straight through him. The mingling of their forms sent a jolt of heat through Cas that quickly turned to an icy cold flash as they walked on, unaware. Just as suddenly as the sensations blasted through Cas, they were gone. And the angels continued their conversation as though nothing had happened. Indeed, as far as they were concerned, nothing had actually happened. They could not see him, nor could they hear him. Cas truly was in Heaven's veil.

He watched the backs of the retreating angels as he worked through what he planned to do now that he was here. It was not a topic he had been able to discuss with Missouri. She knew nothing of Heaven and did not have the capability to help him on this end. Help would have been welcome, though. Heaven was vast. Cas was somewhat uncertain on where to begin his search for God. For the moment, he decided that just moving his feet would be a good start. He made his way along the hall, peeking into conference rooms -some empty, some in use- and offices of various angels who spent their time in Heaven rather than taking a vessel on Earth. No one he passed paid him any mind, and all seemed to be in order. The only difference he saw was the overall dimmed ambiance of the veil, and his eyes seemed to be adjusting to that.

What next? he wondered. He would have to start searching personal Heavens. The smartest thing would be to visit the Heavens of people Chuck had known while He was on Earth. As a writer, He had been a recluse, but that did not stop Him from interacting with at least a few people. And some of them were actually dead and in Heaven at this point. Perhaps God was covertly visiting with some of them, hiding in the veil while watching over a few of His favorites. It was worth exploring. With a strong pulse of his wings, Cas was off to his first destination.

.oOo.

Dean and Missouri worked in the kitchen, tidying up after a sparse lunch. Dean hadn't felt hungry, but Missouri brooked no nonsense and demanded he fuel his body. Sam had volunteered to watch over Cas so Dean could take care of himself. "We left Pamela alone," Dean had said when he first refused to leave his chair. "I'm not leaving Cas alone." Somehow, between the two of them, Sam and Missouri had gotten Dean out of his chair, into the kitchen, and even made him eat a little. Though with the distraction laying back in his room, he couldn't even remember what it was he had eaten.

"It's a little frustrating, ain't it?"

"Huh?" Dean looked around to Missouri from where he was putting their clean plates back on a shelf.

"The not knowing," Missouri said. "Walking around in the real world while we don't know what's going on over in the veil."

"I was hoping you would be able to, you know, read him or something. Give us a play-by-play."

"Would that I could, honey, but even if Castiel weren't so difficult to read, what with those colors, his mind is off with his spirit. That body in there is essentially empty."

Dean felt himself go cold in response to her comment, and she immediately stepped forward to press a hand to his arm. "Dean, I want to apologize to you," she said. "Had I known what Sam was going to cook up in that brain of his, I'm not sure I would have pushed you and Castiel to have your little... talk. At least, not yet."

"Oh. Yeah." Dean didn't know how to respond.

"Your previous experience with astral projection ended badly, and it's obviously part of what's affecting you so much right now," Missouri continued gently. "But I want to remind you that it wasn't the actual procedure that harmed your friend. The trauma of her death put astral projection on your list of things to avoid, but you have to remember that it was a demon who killed her. Demons ain't getting in here, honey." She searched his face. "Castiel is safe. He's going to be fine."

"Yeah, okay." Dean tried to sound like he agreed with her, but he still wasn't about to let Cas lay in there by himself for one minute of this thing. Mostly, he didn't want to talk about it, but... "Missouri?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I'm still not really sure why I reached out to you, but I think there might have been something that... I don't know... needed you to tell me the truth, and..." Dean paused, trying to figure out what he was trying to say and failing. "Thanks," he finished lamely.

Missouri smiled. "You just make sure you take this vigil in shifts," she warned. "Sam wants to help, and you need to let him... And I'm here too." With another gentle squeeze on his arm, she left him alone in the kitchen with only his jumbled thoughts to keep him company.