No one got any more sleep that night. The adults were surly and cranky when morning arrived. Against the protests of his brother and Jess, Dean had returned, alone, to his apartment to collect clothes and toiletries for himself and Castiel. He'd been scared to death, but although Cass was upset at being left behind, he seemed to think it was safe. Besides, they needed something to wear to work.

Fortunately, Dean's trip was uneventful. His heart had nearly pounded out of his chest when he'd opened the door. He'd jumped at every tiny sound or flicker in the light. But the only sign that anything at all unusual had happened in this apartment had been the bags of clothes. The bags containing clothing that Castiel had worn had all been cut open, some of the clothing snagged, as if someone had cut into the bags using something very sharp. Dean thought about the sound he'd heard, claws on linoleum. He'd quickly gathered what he'd needed and then bolted from the apartment.

He doubted he'd have an easy time sleeping there again.

Now, seated in Dean's car next to him, Castiel looked sharp. He was again wearing the suit he'd been wearing when Dean had first met him. Cass's clothes were neatly cleaned and pressed, thanks to Jess who had scolded Dean about shoving Cass's only suit into a bag and getting it all wrinkled. One of Dean's ties was in place, sort of, around Castiel's neck, the blue color bringing out his eyes despite the fact that it was currently on backwards. His face was shaved, his hair combed despite still looking messy, and he smelled of Sam's aftershave.

The only thing about that entire list that had been easy had been getting Castiel to put on his suit. Until now, Cass had been sporting some ever-lengthening stubble that had looked sexy as hell, but wouldn't do in the office. Getting Cass to hold still long enough for Dean to help him shave had taken tremendous effort. So had talking Cass into letting Sam put aftershave on him, or let Jess put gel in his hair (it hadn't worked). But the most difficult thing by far had been, oddly enough, getting Castiel to wear a tie. To the delight of the children, Dean and his friends had spent fifteen minutes literally chasing Castiel around the house, trying to convince the confused and irritated angel that yes, he really did need to noose the colored piece of cloth around his neck. Even after Dean had gotten it on, twice Cass had pulled it back off the moment his back was turned. They'd finally compromised when Cass had reluctantly put the tie back on upside-down. Good enough. As a result, everyone was off to a late start. But Cass seemed calm now, or at least resigned. He watched out the window as Dean drove, seeming to be watching the rain drip onto the glass.

Dean, in contrast, was a bundle of nerves. He was speaking with Sam on the hands free as they followed. "Sam, I will never be able to make this up to you."

"Oh, I'm aware," his brother replied cheerfully. "I'll hold this over your head until your dying day."

"Don't be a bitch, Sam, I'm anxious enough as it is. Listen, Jess packed Cass a lunch, but I'm going to need you to keep an eye on him. For lunch. You understand?"

"You crazy…!" Sam's breath hissed through his teeth through the phone's speaker, acutely aware that Cass was listening. "You're not really going to, um, take your usual break, are you? Considering the circumstances?"

"I'm generally not given a choice, Sam," Dean reminded, pointedly not looking at his angel.

"This is a really bad idea, Dean. I cannot believe you're stupid enough to…!"

"Yes, dammit, I'm crazy, and I am well aware of how stupid this whole plan is, and I don't see an alternative!" He glanced at Cass, who was frowning suspiciously at him. "I can't talk about this now, alright? Besides, what other option is there? Don't you think that creating a fuss under the current circumstances would be an even worse idea?"

"Dean, I have never met anyone more determined to crash and burn than you," Sam declared. "Isn't your luck bad enough without further tempting fate?"

"Apparently not. Look, are you going to help me or not?"

"Of course I'll help you," Sam snapped. "There's nothing I enjoy more than watching my jerk brother hang himself. When this all blows up in your face, Dean?"

"You'll put your foot so far up my ass the water on your knee will quench my thirst," Dean sighed, echoing his brother's favorite threat. "Got it."

Naturally, it was pouring as they pulled into the employee parking lot. Sam quickly pulled his minivan into a convenient open spot near the door. "Sam, you prick!" Dean protested.

"What? You owe me anyway, and I'm not gonna get soaked walking into that building."

"Oh, so we'll get soaked instead?"

"Snooze you lose!"

Dean hung up and gave him the finger. Sam returned the gesture, blowing kisses over it. Dean shook his head and moved on, looking for a parking spot. Naturally Dean, being late, was forced to park at the farthest end of the parking lot. By the time he and Castiel reached the building, they were both soaking wet. But while normally, Dean would already have a stress headache, today he didn't mind much. Castiel had laughed as the two ran for the building, face upturned, thoroughly enjoying the rain. It was impossible not to enjoy it with him. They were both laughing as they dripped their way into the lobby.

Sam, of course, had already darted into his cubicle, avoiding the sight of the two drenched arrivals. Typical.

"Ok, quick orientation to the building," Dean called as he punched in. "First, you'll note that this clock reads four minutes past nine. The cut-off time is three minutes past nine. That means that I will be docked fifteen minutes on my paycheck because my asshole brother chose to screw me over today. Perfect. Eh, hell with it, I'll take it out of the million or so I already owe him."

Dean turned from the clock and indicated the lobby. "Ok, this is the lobby, obviously. My cubicle is in there, among the other cubicle dwellers here on the first floor. See that elevator, Cass? To put it simply, the higher the number of floor you work on, the better the job and the more you make. Those on the fifth floor are the executives and Benny Lafitte, the CEO, which means he's the big boss. Everyone else, including my manager Bela, who is also his wife, reports to him. And he should actually be there today. He should have gotten back last night." Which means Bela won't be after me today, wanting to take me home with her, Dean thought happily. Thank God for small favors. He indicated the cubicles again. "Note we are working on the lowest floor, in the shittiest job, getting the shittiest pay and the worst benefits. Welcome to my office!"

Unfortunately, Castiel had caught the one thing Dean knew he shouldn't have said. "Bela," he growled. "Bitch!"

Dean grabbed his shoulders and gave him a shake. "Very important! Do not touch Bela, Castiel. I am very serious about this. No avenging, no smiting, no transfiguring, no morphing, no banishing to the underworld. Don't hit, slap, push, pinch, kick, trip, or poke her, either. Don't do anything at all to her! As far as you are concerned, she is completely off limits. If she talks to you, obviously talk back to her, but beyond that, you don't interact with her. I want your word on this, Cass. Promise not to do anything to her?"

Castiel scowled.

Dean scowled back.

Finally, the angel sighed. "I promise not to do anything to her," he grumbled.

"Good angel," Dean praised, patting Cass's shoulder. "Oh yeah, stick with either me or Sam today. Do not wander off."

"Do not wander off." Castiel was still scowling.

Dean chose to ignore it. He entered the work area and slunk to his desk, trying to avoid drawing attention. Cass strolled right in. The soles of his cowboy boots, which were unfortunately the nicest set of footwear he owned due to his original shoes getting ruined by the rain that first night, tapped on the tiled floor, drawing every eye. Faces peered around the cubicle walls, watching as the mysterious stranger followed Dean to his desk. So much for the subtle approach. Well, someone who looked like Castiel Novak was bound to draw attention to himself sooner or later.

Dean rummaged in his desk, produced a mailing label and a black marker, and wrote "Trainee" on the label. This he stuck to Castiel's shirt, just below his right collarbone. "That should at least get you through today," he declared as Cass stared at it. "Ok, let's get you a chair. Here we go, sit down buddy."

"Hey, guys, glad you could make it in without drowning," Sam called, scooting his chair around the cubicle wall to grin at the two. "Although from the looks of you, it was a close call."

"Sam, you have no idea how close I am to murdering you with my stapler right now," Dean informed him.

"Promises, promises. Here, Cass, I got these for you. Enjoy!"

Dean stared at the wrapped cakes his brother had just handed Castiel. "Sam, did you just give him devil's food cake?"

Sam grinned widely.

Dean got up and calmly pushed Sam in his chair back into his cubicle. "Leave us alone before I destroy you."

Sam, still grinning, went back to work.

When Dean returned, Cass had already devoured one of the cakes. He offered the other to Dean. "Nah, go ahead, they're for you, even though Sam's an asshole."

"I heard that, jerk!" Sam called through the cubicle wall.

"You were meant to, bitch!" Dean threw an eraser to arc neatly over the wall of his cubical, smiled at the satisfying startled curse this produced from his brother, and handed a Kleenex to Castiel. "Clean the chocolate off your hands, Cass. Now, let me show you what I do every day." He lowered his voice. "I know you won't understand half of this, buddy, and you'll probably be bored shitless. But I need to at least pretend to be training you, or people will get suspicious and start to wonder what you're really doing here. So play along for now."

"Play along," Cass whispered back, nodding conspiratorially. "Alright."

Dean had always enjoyed teaching on the rare occasions he had a trainee instead of Sam, who usually was assigned the job. Cass, it turned out, was an attentive listener. Dean had no idea how much, if anything, Cass actually understood. But he seemed interested, or at least paying attention.

Of course, Bela wandered over, her eyes on the handsome newcomer. She looked Castiel up and down. "Hi there," she said. "I didn't know we had a new hire. Dean, are you going to introduce us?"

"Sure," Dean said, subtly kicking Cass. "Castiel Novak, meet our boss, Mrs. Bela Lafitte. Stand up and shake her hand like a gentleman."

"A pleasure!" Bela's smile grew wider as Castiel rose. Her eyes flicked again over him as the suddenly-subdued angel shook her hand. "Wow, you are a pretty one, aren't you?" Bela noted, letting Cass's hand go and trailing an manicured finger along his arm. "Um, just so you know, we have a strict dress code. Ties are a must for all male employees, and no clip-ons!"

Dean grimaced, realizing that at some point while he'd been teaching, Castiel had once again discarded his tie. But at least the angel was staying calm. His blue eyes were cool as he regarded Bela. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he announced.

Bela giggled. "Well, stick with Dean. He's a good teacher, and he'll get you pointed in the right direction." As she spoke, she winked suggestively at Dean and squeezed his shoulder.

Immediately, Castiel scowled. "Keep your grubby fingers to yourself," he ordered. "You cannot go around practicing the things you see on TV, alright? That is really not cool."

Dean blanched as Bela blinked. "Um, what?"

"Heh, what a kidder!" Dean called, quickly seizing Cass's wrist and giving him a tug towards his seat. "Cass, sit down, buddy, we still have a lot to go over."

"Of course." Bela was eyeing Castiel again, this time with one eyebrow raised in confusion. Her hand squeezed Dean's shoulder. "Dean? We'll have our usual arrangements for lunch, of course."

"Of course." Dean forced a smile, not wanting to upset Cass any further. "See you then."

As soon as she left, Dean glared at his angel. "Castiel? Tie. Now!"

Castiel sheepishly pulled the crumpled tie from a pocket. To his credit, he didn't resist when Dean, grumbling, replaced the tie around Castiel's neck, correctly this time, and straightened it. "It's the office dress code to wear these, ok? And this tie looks good on you," he commented as he adjusted Cass's collar. "The blue really brings out your eyes. Now quit being an idiot and leave it on before you get us both in trouble!"

"Alright." Castiel looked like a scolded dog. "I'll leave it on. But Bela should keep her hands off of you."

Dean sighed. "Listen," he began in a low voice. "I get that it's your job to look after me. Dealing with Bela has got to be worse on you than it even is on me! But Cass…"

"No," Castiel snapped, uncharacteristically waspish. "I won't let anyone hurt you!"

"Alright, then. Let's go marching into Benny's office and just tell him everything, let the chips fall where they may!" Dean groaned, seeing Castiel stand up, looking determined. "Dammit, Cass, sit down! I'm sorry, but there's nothing anyone can do about Bela right now, ok? Now, can we please just get back to the training?"

Castiel sat down and sulked.

Dean choose to interpret that as a "yes" and went back to his teaching. A few minutes later, he had to pause when his phone rang. Dean groaned, recognizing the number. "Sorry, Cass," he apologized. "It's Sanders, one of the higher-paid cubicle dwellers from the second floor. Pompous windbag! He always calls, wanting information, and it always takes a while."

The angel's head tilted to the side. "Assbutt?"

"Major assbutt, buddy."

"Major pompous windbag assbutt." Cass nodded solemnly. "Alright."

As usual, the major pompous windbag assbutt wanted Dean to look up information on several accounts that he could have easily looked up himself. Dean rolled his eyes at Castiel and pressed the mute button on his phone. "This guy is older, probably near retirement age, and his retirement can't come soon enough," he confided, leaning close to speak softly to Cass. "I consider his work average, at best, not nearly up to what I believe I could do in Sanders's position. And he calls me for information on a daily basis."

Dean unmuted the phone and quickly made a note. "Yes, sir, I'll get to work on that right away. It should… Oh you have more? I see." He rolled his eyes at Cass and pulled up a new sheet of paper. "Alright, go ahead."

Dean's list grew longer and longer. Shaking his head, he pressed the mute button again. "He's got a backlog today, Cass. Makes you wonder what the hell he did all day yesterday when I wasn't here to serve as his personal research assistant? Well, if the office grapevine is correct, he probably looked at porn at his desk and wanked off into tissues all day."

He unmuted the phone again and pretended to shoot himself in the head with his finger to amuse Cass, even as he kept his voice pleasant and professional. Finally, the list ended and Dean hung up with a sigh. "Researching account information for the higher floors is in our job description," he explained. "Sanders obviously knows it. But any one of our coworkers on this floor could have done this for him, or the old fool could have just looked it up himself." He indicated his lengthy list in disgust. "Instead, he obviously waited for me because he clearly has two days' worth of information to have me research for him now."

"Major pompous windbag assbutt," Castiel declared.

"Oh, you got it. Ok, let's get into this."

Over an hour later, Dean was finally done. He called Sanders back, relayed the lengthy list of information to him, and hung up, giving the finger to the phone. He took a long drink from his water bottle and turned to Cass. "Sorry about that. Now what were…?" His voice trailed off, noting an absence of Castiel in the chair next to him. "Cass? Where'd you go, buddy?"

Dean stood up, peering over the cubicles. Castiel was tall enough that he should have been easily seen if he was up wandering among them. The fact that he was nowhere in sight made Dean's heart drop to the pit of his stomach. He quickly ran around to Sam's cubicle. "Sam, you gotta help me," he whispered. "Castiel's gone!"

"What?" Sam whispered back. "What do you mean, Castiel's gone?"

"I mean he's standing on the coffee table next to the copy machine, bumping and grinding, doing a strip tease," Dean told him calmly. "He's already down to his underwear, and every woman and half the men in the office are shoving bills into his G-string. Tonight we eat like kings!"

Sam blinked. "What?"

"I mean he's gone, you idiot!" Dean hissed. "What did you think I meant? Sanders called, and by the time I finally finished relaying two days' worth of research for him, Cass was gone! He must have gotten bored and wandered off." He groaned. "I should have borrowed Bela's handcuffs and locked him to my desk. Maybe I will after I find him. But you gotta help me find him, Sam!"

"Ok, ok, geez!" Sam got up. "Did you check in Bela's office?"

"Are you out of your mind?" Dean hissed.

"No, but you're an idiot if that wasn't the first place you thought to check," Sam replied calmly. "I heard her earlier. I know she was making a pass at him before he went all Castiel on her. You can't tell me you didn't think it was possible she lured him into that office for a little extra training?"

"Of course I thought about it," Dean admitted uncomfortably, "but Sam, come on! Cass promised he wouldn't do anything to her."

"Did he?" Sam pressed. "Did he specifically say, 'I promise I won't go all angel on Bela,' or did you make an assumption?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably. Sam gave a deep sigh and turned towards the office. "Let's go check."

"But what if he's not in there? You know if I go in, she won't let me back out," Dean pointed out. "She'll keep me in there until she's done with me, and won't that be great if Castiel comes pounding on the door looking for me?"

"She does lock the door," Sam pointed out weakly. "If he starts pounding on it, I can come get him, try to talk him out of going all Sodom and Gomorrah?"

"A city bus did not stop Castiel from protecting me, Sam," Dean whispered. "You saw how upset he got when he found out what she's been doing to me. Do you really think a locked door is going to stop him if he figures out what's happening in there and decides to stop it?"

Sam grimaced. "Ugh, you're probably right. And to be honest, I would so love to see Cass give that bitch a Heaven-sent spanking that I'm almost tempted to let it happen."

"Sam!"

"Yeah, yeah." He waved a hand. "Ok, we'll go in there together, tell her your trainee must have gotten lost and ask if she's seen him. She can't keep you in there if I'm with you, and we're both obviously doing something, right?"

That made Dean feel a bit better. "Thanks, man."

"No problem." Sam clapped his brother on the shoulder and straightened. "Come on. Let's go bait the lioness in her den."