AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I don't know what possessed me to try this... When I was in high school, my friend and I would go to a comic store that had a rack full of romance novels. I think the store owner's mother had collected them. I swear, my friend and I bought them all. One of my favorites was a novel called "Did You Say... Wife?" by Judith McWilliams. I was rereading it the other day and suddenly, it sounded like a great fanfic if it were Sam in Lucas's place and Castiel in Jocelyn's. I tried not to follow the novel word for word in my attempt to create an AU version of Supernatural... I hope this comes out okay.

Memorandum – ROUGH DRAFT

To: Sam Winchester, CEO of Winchester Enterprises

From: Castiel Novak

Re: My Resignation

Dear Mr. Winchester,

Please let this memo serve as my official resignation. I am sure you must be surprised at my sudden decision to leave but I assure you I have enjoyed being your assistant these last six months. The only explanation I can give you is, well, I am in love with you.

Sincerely,

C. Novak

Castiel shivered as he gently pulled his final draft from the printer. The whirring it had made and the page's slow crawl out did nothing to ease his nerves. Slowly, he made his way from the printer behind his desk toward Mr. Winchester's office, futilely scanning the memo for any errors. Of course there were none. He'd reread it a thousand times before printing it, trying to delay the inevitable.

Mr. Winchester was already gone for the night, his office open but dark. Castiel suddenly felt like he was walking toward a monster's den, the darkened office waiting to swallow him whole. He glanced down at the memo one last time and sighed. There was no more delaying it. He had to give his notice and now was as good a time as any. The longer he pushed it off, the harder it was going to be.

He knew the layout well after six months and didn't bother to turn on the light. Easily crossing to the desk, he laid the paper on top of Mr. Winchester's calendar before turning and hurrying out. His coat was draped over his desk chair and he draped it over an arm, leaning down to shut down his computer before making his way to the elevator. As he waited for the elevator, he took one last look toward Mr. Winchester's office. Even though it was too dark to see, knowing that one sheet of paper was sitting there felt like a very large presence occupying the space around him.

The elevator dinged and the doors smoothly slid open. Grateful for the escape, Castiel hurried in, slipping his coat on and pressing the button for the ground floor. As the doors slid closed, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It was done. In two weeks, he'd be walking away and he would never see Mr. Winchester again.

When the elevator reached the ground floor, he stepped out into the lobby, tugging his coat tighter around himself in preparation for the December chill outside. Lost in thought and focused on the white marble floor beneath his polished black dress shoes, he didn't notice the night security guard until he spoke.

"Everything alright, Mr. Novak?" the fifty-something man said. His tone was quiet and concerned but it still made Castiel jump.

Forcing a smile he didn't feel, Castiel met the man's eyes. "Yes, Bobby, thank you. Just not looking forward to going out in that," he said, gesturing to the snowy parking lot through the glass doors of the entrance. It wasn't an outright lie.

Bobby chuckled and brought a hand up to scratch the beard covering his chin. "No, I don't suppose ya are," he agreed. "Drive safe and keep warm," he offered with a warm smile that was almost paternal. Castiel knew Bobby Singer had no children and his wife, Karen, had died several years ago. He always enjoyed his brief chats with the gruff old man.

Castiel's smile grew more genuine and he nodded. "Goodnight, Bobby," he said before making his way outside.

He hurried across the darkened parking lot to his car, fumbling to grasp the proper key as the cold quickly chilled his bare fingers. Before he could reach his car, a hand was clamping down on his shoulder and spinning him around. He gasped and dropped his keys but his wide, frightened eyes turned hard and narrowed upon seeing who it was.

"What do you want?" he snapped at the blond, green eyed man smirking at him.

"Hello to you, too, Cas," the man said sarcastically as Castiel retrieved his keyes from the pavement.

"I told you not to call me that, Dean," Castiel huffed, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets to warm them. "What are you doing here? Your brother left hours ago."

"I'm not here for little Sammy," Dean said with a mocking tone. "I'm actually here to see you. See... I'm having a bit of trouble paying some bills," he said cryptically.

Castiel narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And how is that my problem?"

"I need some money," Dean snapped. "Sammy's got money. Get it?"

"Then why don't you ask him?" Castiel said dismissively, turning to head toward his car.

Dean grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around again. "I can't."

"Look," Castiel snapped, blue eyes meeting green in a glare, "just because you don't like that your brother inherited the company over you, and just because I happen to work for him doesn't mean you can put me in the middle. I am not helping you take money from Sam. You do realize that if I took the money, that'd be embezzlement-"

"Jesus, Cas!" Dean groaned. "I'm not talking about taking money directly."

Castiel blinked at him in confusion, tilting his head. "I don't understand."

"Do I have to paint you a picture?! Sam owns Dad's company now. But I'm the oldest. It should belong to me!"

"You didn't go to college like Sam did," Castiel pointed out. "I see why your father didn't trust you with it."

"Just because I ain't no college boy like Sammy doesn't mean I don't know how to run the company," Dean growled.

"Your father seemed to think so."

"Look," Dean sighed. "I'm pretty sure Sam forged a will or something so he could take over the company. Find it."

"Why would Sam do that?" Castiel asked, crossing his arms. This man was infuriating and he just wanted to go home.

"So he could have the company!" Dean snapped. "Jesus, do I have to dumb everything down for you? Sam knew he was the youngest and wouldn't stand a chance-"

"Sam went to college," Castiel interrupted, tone indicating how bored he was becoming with this. "You didn't."

"Look," Dean said, stepping so close to Castiel that the younger man could feel Dean's breath across his face. "Unless you want Sammy to know about the night we shared, you'll do as I say."

"That," Castiel snapped, "didn't happen."

"Oh yeah? I wonder who Sammy would believe if I showed him this," Dean said, holding up a sheet of paper.

Castiel snatched it to look at it more closely in the dimly lit parking lot. It was a photocopy of two different hotel receipts, both dated the same night. It had been a business trip Castiel had accompanied Sam on two weeks ago to New York. They were both dated the second to last night of the trip, before they flew back home. The first receipt was for the room Castiel had used. The second was for a room Dean had booked – putting both his and Castiel's names on it. Except Castiel had slept on the couch in the seating area while Dean slept in the bed, angry that his little scheme to bed his brother's assistant failed. That night, Castiel hadn't questioned why his boss's brother happened to be at the same hotel and had wanted to sleep with him. But now... he figured Dean had been cooking up this whole elaborate plot to get an in near his brother for some made up will.

"How's it going to look when Sammy sees these?" Dean gloated, taking the sheet of paper back. "I think that he'll think you checked of your room and into one with me for a secret affair right under his nose."

"That's not what happened," Castiel growled.

"No, but who do you think he'll believe? After all, we may not get along but I'm still his brother. You're just a secretary after the family's money."

"What money?" Castiel snorted. "If this little blackmailing scheme is anything to go by, you have none."

"Sam won't know you know that. So do I show him this-" he waved the paper in front of his face "-or are you going to help me?"

He'd already turned in his notice. It's not like Sam knowing about the supposed "affair" and firing him would make much difference. The end of his notice would just be a bit sooner. But Castiel couldn't stand to have Sam thinking so poorly of him. And all over a lie. He didn't want an angry Sam Winchester firing him to be his last memory of the boss he'd fallen so deeply in love with.

"I can't promise anything," he mumbled. Because there won't be anything to find, he thought.

Taking that as an agreement, Dean grinned, a smile that looked like a cat cornering its prey. "Thanks, Cas."

"Don't call me that," Castiel snapped as Dean swaggered toward a black Impala across the parking lot.

With a sigh, Castiel slipped into his car and started the engine then backed out of the parking space.

Why did his life have to be so complicated?