Warning: This chapter contains an oblique reference to the potential sexual abuse of a child. Nothing actually happens, I promise.

Shout outs to gnbrules, superchiwo, HollieElisabeth, Kathy, Baby-Bubble-Princess, Denisekay2102, and Dragonsrule18 for taking the time to share their thoughts. I feel so loved, and I wish I could hug each and every one of you.

Happy (insert holiday of your choice) and may the new year be filled with good things for you and all your family. =)

Chapter Three

To Castiel's disgruntlement, it proved increasingly difficult to dislike Dean as the night wore on. Anna was right. He could cook. Castiel purposely (and a little spitefully) assigned him the most difficult items on the menu, but Dean rose to the challenge without breaking a sweat. He easily kept up with the fast pace of the kitchen while still finding the breath to crack jokes and banter playfully with the cooks and waiters. He even had shy, nervous Alfie laughing. In fact, if Castiel could find anything to object to, it was that his staff clearly liked Dean better than they had ever liked Castiel himself, and he sincerely hoped he wasn't childish enough to resent the man just for that.

If he was being honest, he could see why they all liked him so much. Dean was friendly, personable, funny … and not bad to look at. Not bad at all. Castiel caught himself surreptitiously admiring the way his shoulder muscles moved as he chopped vegetables, the way he licked his lips after tasting a sauce …

He hastily derailed that train of thought. That was a bad idea for so many reasons. Dean was his subordinate. If he made a move and it turned out that his interest was unreciprocated, he could find himself sued for sexual harassment. And even if Dean was gay, single, and interested in Castiel, there was still Claire to think about. He couldn't just bring strange men home anymore. (Not that he had really done that before, but it had at least been an option.) Even dating was going to be more complicated from now on.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean said when at one point they found themselves working side by side. It was the first time they'd talked since the conversation in Naomi's office if you didn't count Castiel issuing orders and Dean responding with an obedient, Yes, chef.

"You can ask," Castiel said noncommittally.

"Where did you learn to cook?"

Well, that wasn't too personal on the face of it, but Castiel still considered his answer carefully because it verged dangerously close to things he didn't like to even think about let alone discuss with a stranger. Finally he said simply, "My grandmother."

Dean paused in arranging berries on a dessert plate and blinked at him. "Seriously? I thought you were gonna say you trained at Cordon Bleu or something."

"I did. But my grandmother was my first teacher, and she was better than Cordon Bleu."

Castiel couldn't help watching Dean's hands as they resumed assembling the dessert. They were big, rough with the scars and callouses that every chef acquired from years of working with hot metal and sharp knives. But their movements were deft, gently handling the delicate berries so as not to bruise them. Castiel wondered if those hands were equally skilled in other … areas … No. Stop that. Bad idea, remember?

"What about you?" he asked partly to distract himself and partly to turn the conversation away from his own past. "What brought you to cooking?"

"A girl." Dean smirked.

Castiel's heart sank. So Dean was straight.

He could be bi.

Shut up. It doesn't matter either way because he's off limits.

"Her name was Jo," Dean went on, "and I had a huge crush on her in high school. Her mom owned this little diner, so I got a job there, washing dishes, busing tables, basically doing whatever I was told, all for slightly better than minimum wage and the privilege of being around Jo. And the free food didn't hurt. Best pie I've ever had."

"Did you ever get around to asking Jo out?" Castiel asked, finding that he was genuinely curious and enjoying this conversation almost despite himself. Damn, Dean really was impossible to dislike.

"No," Dean chuckled. "Wouldn't have worked out anyway. We became good friends though, and in the meantime her mom taught me to cook. I enjoyed it so much that I decided to save up and put myself through culinary school. I had the idea that I wanted to open my own restaurant, but …" He trailed off, looking a little wistful.

"But what?" Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged. "Well, you know what the restaurant business is like. Most places go under inside a year, and then where would I be? Unemployed and in debt. Besides, this way I'm not tied down. If I want a change of scenery, I just pick a city and find a restaurant in need of a cook. There's always at least one."

There was something odd about that answer. It didn't quite ring true, but Castiel didn't think Dean was outright lying. It was more like he was trying to convince himself.

"Is that what brought you here? A change of scenery?"

Dean looked at him and suddenly smiled, the same charming yet sincere smile he had given when he handed Castiel the final decision on whether or not he would stay. "No, I already told you. I came here for the privilege of working with the great Castiel Novak." Again there wasn't a trace of sarcasm in the words.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Castiel said dryly, but he wasn't sure that was true. Not with Dean's green eyes twinkling at him so prettily. He had a feeling that spending much time around this man could be very dangerous to his heart.

~o0o~

When he trudged wearily through his front door at half past midnight, Castiel had to pause for the second time that night and make sure he was in the right place. No, this was definitely his apartment, and half of the moaning, writhing tangle of limbs on the couch was his babysitter Josie. The other half was a blandly handsome young man with a rather bony ass. Said ass was hastily covered when the man noticed Castiel's presence.

"M-mister Novak," Josie stammered, pulling her skirt back down and trying to surreptitiously adjust her bra. "S-sorry. Um, this is my boyfriend. Henry."

"Where's Claire?"

"A-asleep, I think."

"You think?"

Castiel pushed past the red faced Henry who was now struggling to do up his belt, hurried down the hall, and pushed open the door of his niece's room. She was fast asleep, her blond curls spread out on the pillow, the quilt rising and falling gently with her breathing. He breathed again too. Closing the door quietly, he went back to the living room where the unhappy couple were still trying to make themselves presentable.

Josie started to apologize again. "I'm so sorry. It's just that we both live in the dorms so it's hard to get time alone. I didn't think it would be a —"

"Did you leave him alone with Claire?" Castiel cut her off, his voice very steady and very cold.

"What?" It actually seemed to take her a moment to understand what he was asking. Then her eyes widened in horrified comprehension. "Oh, God. You don't really think … Look, I shouldn't have invited him over without asking you, but Henry's a good guy. He would never —"

"Answer the question," Castiel growled through gritted teeth. "Did you at any time leave him unsupervised with my child?"

Henry seemed too stunned to speak in his own defense, and honestly Castiel wasn't interested in anything he might say.

Josie realized that Castiel was completely serious and quickly said, "No. No, she was asleep when he got here. He never even saw her."

He desperately wanted to believe it. They both looked genuinely horrified by what he was implying, and logically he doubted Claire would be sleeping peacefully if she had recently been … Especially if the person who'd done it was still in the house. Either way he wasn't going to become any more certain by interrogating them until dawn.

"Very well. Nevertheless your behavior was inexcusable. What if Claire had woken up and found you as I found you? Did you think of that?"

They said nothing, but he knew the answer. There hadn't been much thinking involved at all.

He took the agreed upon amount from his wallet and shoved it into Josie's hand. "Get out, both of you. Needless to say I will not be trusting Claire to your care again."

They beat a hasty retreat.

Castiel was tempted to have a glass of whiskey before bed, but in his current mood he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop at just one, and getting drunk was another thing he couldn't do anymore. He changed into pajamas and collapsed into bed, but as exhausted as he was both physically and emotionally, he couldn't seem to make his brain turn off. He stared up at the ceiling fan, thoughts chasing round and round his head just like the spinning blades.

He didn't have a prayer of finding another babysitter by tomorrow night. He wouldn't be trusting that agency again, and he didn't exactly have a network of other parents to turn to. He would have to take more time off while he sorted this out. Anna and Dean together could manage, and even if Anna had the baby a little early, there would still be Dean. He was so popular with the staff, probably no one would even notice Castiel's absence. (That thought was more than a little bitter, so maybe he was that childish.)

His bedroom door creaked open. He sat up and turned on the light. Claire was standing at the foot of the bed, her favorite stuffed cat clutched to her chest. His heart plummeted into his stomach. Had she been faking sleep before, waiting until she was sure that Josie and Henry were gone?

"What's wrong?" he asked.

But of course his only answer was a solemn stare.

He sighed and got out of bed to kneel in front of her. "Claire," he said, looking into her blue eyes, so much like Jimmy's and therefore like Castiel's own eyes. People would probably assume she was his daughter if they didn't know otherwise. "Claire, did Josie or her friend hurt you?"

She shook her head.

"You're sure? You won't get in any trouble, I promise. Did they do anything you weren't comfortable with?"

She shook her head again.

"Okay." He breathed another sigh of relief, but he knew it was only a temporary reprieve. So this was parenthood. A state of near constant dread, hyper-aware of just how many bad things were lurking out there in the world. "So what are you doing out of bed? Did you have a bad dream?"

She nodded and looked pointedly at his big bed.

"You want to stay with me tonight?"

A nod.

"All right."

She wasted no time clambering onto the bed and making herself comfortable. When he went to turn off the light, she made a soft, inarticulate noise of protest.

"Light on. Got it." He resigned himself to a sleepless night as he laid back down.

To his surprise, after staring at him contemplatively for a moment, she dragged her pillow to the middle of the bed and snuggled up against his shoulder, her cat smushed between them. She had been distant with him so far. He'd attributed it to her not knowing him very well and maybe a fear that showing him affection would be a betrayal of her father. He tentatively stroked her hair. She sighed contentedly and let her eyes drift closed.

On an impulse he asked, "How would you like to come to the restaurant with me tomorrow after school?" If she got tired she could nap on the couch in Naomi's office, and tomorrow was Friday, so he could let her sleep in Saturday morning.

Claire picked up her head to look at him, maybe to make sure he really meant it, and he knew right away it had been a good idea. For the first time since the accident she looked like a normal little girl instead of a pale, listless ghost. Her eyes were bright with excitement, and she nodded vigorously.

"Okay," he said with a smile. At least he'd gotten one thing right tonight. "Try to sleep now. I'll be right here if you have any more bad dreams."