I

He wasn't on the boards.

Dean scanned them again, his brow furrowed. There were only two rooms running, which wasn't that strange for the day after Christmas, but he wasn't on the boards at all, not even assigned to breaks or special projects.

Determined to not let his concern show, he turned to head to the locker room to don his scrubs when Chuck stepped out from The Cage.

"Dean," he said seriously. "Are you clocked in?"

"Not yet," Dean replied.

"Go clock in, and then head to…do you know where Naomi Silverman's office is? From HR?"

"HR?" Dean asked, stunned. "What does HR want with me?"

Chuck held up his hands innocently. "They've requested that I free up your schedule for you to go visit them, and that's all I know."

"Right." Dean wiped at his mouth nervously. "I guess I'll see you later."

II

Human Resources had their offices on the fifth floor of the surgical center, where most of the other administrative work happened. Unlike the third floor, the fifth floor had plentiful windows that overlooked the city's skyline, which hadn't changed much in the three years since Dean had last been called in to have a conversation with Naomi.

He was fairly certain he knew what the basic shape of the conversation was going to be, and was already constructing arguments as to why it was unnecessary.

First, he decided as he returned Naomi's overly genuine smile and sat down before her desk, he'd play dumb.

"I'm not going to mince words, Dean," Naomi began as she folded her hands in front of her. "Brass tacks only. First of all, I want to assure you that you're not going to be punished for anything you say, and that we will keep anything you say as anonymous as possible."

Dean blinked, and all his half-formed arguments fled. "What?" he asked.

Naomi looked at him with utter sincerity. "It has been brought to our attention that there are concerns about…inappropriate overtures made by Dr. Novak towards you."

Dean stiffened. "I'd say that's between me and Dr. Novak."

"And under normal circumstances, I would agree," Naomi replied smoothly. "But…Dean, I need you to understand that despite the legal issues surrounding that occurrence in September, your job is not in danger."

The dots were not connecting. "I never thought it was."

Naomi looked truly troubled now. "No, you misunderstand. Your job is not in danger, whether Dr. Novak chooses to defend you or not," she said, slowly and clearly.

Like tumblers in a lock, what Naomi was driving at slammed into place. "Wait. You think I'm –" Dean shook his head violently. "No. Whatever you think is happening, it's not happening that way. Cas isn't – Dr. Novak isn't extortingme. Jesus. Where did anyone get that idea?"

"We've received numerous complaints concerning the way Dr. Novak treats surgical center staff," Naomi said calmly. "And your record…let's just say it indicates that you may be…vulnerable…to offers of privilege." She unfolded her hands, holding them before her in a gesture of kindness. "Combined with some of the rumors that have made their way to us, you can see why we have cause to be concerned for your welfare."

"I'm not hearing this." Dean pressed his palms briefly against his eyes. "Dr. Novak is not some – some evil villain. Those normal circumstances, where you agree that everything is between me and him? Yeah. These are normal circumstances. No extortion, no – what did you call it? No privileges. While I'm on the clock, he's Dr. Novak and I'm his tech, and that's all you guys up here need to worry about."

"If he is mistreating surgical staff, we need to report it to the medical group so they can consider his continued employment," Naomi countered coldly.

"I wouldn't call what he does mistreatment," Dean replied without thinking, "on the clock or off."

"Abuse of his authority is mistreatment," Naomi said pointedly.

Dean opened his mouth as though to say something, but realization dawned on him. "You want him gone," he said slowly. "You're going to twist anything I say into evidence for your little report to the medical group that he should be fired. You've probably been sitting on this problem for months, looking for the right loophole, because you can't fire him just for being an asshole, and even if the lawsuit was messy, he can't be fired for that. But damn, you sure could spin the idea of him sleeping with a tech, couldn't you? What, make me into some tragic little misguided idiot?"

"You're getting agitated –" Naomi began, but Dean cut her off.

"No, I'm beyond agitated. I'm pissed off. I could live with everyone thinking I slept with someone to get this job, because everyone who mattered knew it was bullshit. But everyone – everyone – is so willing to see Cas as the bad guy that they will eat this right up, and I refuse to dance to your drum to help kick him out."

"I think we've exhausted the possibilities of his conversation," Naomi said icily.

"I think we're just getting started," Dean shot back. "Just think of all the possibilities we haven't covered! Trying to figure out how to neutralize the shitstorm from having one of our surgeons associated with a murder case? Do you really think getting rid of him will make our reputation shiny and new again? You're willing to shit all over his name to keep a backwater armpit of a surgical center out of hot water?"

"Dean, please don't make me call security to have you removed." Naomi's voice was steel now, but Dean did not waver.

"Oh, I'll go. And have fun replacing me." He slipped his badge from his belt and held it up, reading the back of the badge. "It says I have to return this to security when I end my employment at Summit. Do me a favor, will you?" Dean tossed it to her desk, turned on his heel, and stalked from the office.

III

His hands were shaking, making his stabs at the ignition with the key reckless and fumbling. Resisting the urge to throw them across the car, Dean tossed them into the seat next to him and leaned back against the headrest, taking great gulps of air to calm the seething frustration that soured his stomach with its intensity.

Four years he'd been here; not long in the grand scheme of things, but the longest he'd ever been in one place for any amount of time. He'd seen management changes, a few retirements, a few marriages and divorces. Gone, now. All of it. The boards, the friendly rapport with the surgeons…

Was it worth it? Was his pride really that important to him?

Not just his pride, he realized as he ran his hands along the steering wheel in an attempt to calm himself with familiar tactile sensation. Dr. Novak's pride, too. Cas's pride. And Cas's trust. If Dean stayed and Cas was fired for any of the reasons relating to Dean… Dean shuddered.

It was the only thing he could do. He knew there would be paperwork to make it official, and that tossing his badge away probably hadn't been the smartest thing to do -

He groaned. His locker. He couldn't get into the locker room without his badge, but right this second he couldn't imagine anything more humiliating – or that would dim the rather satisfying rage he'd worked himself into – than asking someone to let him into the locker room. That would turn a justified storming out of the building into something much closer to a walk of shame.

Slowly, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

Can you clean out my locker for me and bring it to my place? Combo is 43-30-18.

It wasn't long before Cas's reply made his phone buzz, the sound loud in the silent car.

Yes. Why?

Dean grit his teeth.

I quit this morning.

A full minute didn't even pass before the buzz sounded in a new rhythm, and Dean stared down at the ringing phone with a sickly twist. This wasn't a conversation he could have over the phone.

He jabbed his thumb at the red "ignore" button, the adrenaline from his temper and resulting stalk to his car beginning to go sour in his veins.

Just come over, he typed, then shut his phone off completely. He didn't want to see the voicemail icon or any responding texts. He didn't want the story pried out of him while it was still so fresh.

He reached over and plucked the keys from the seat, and this time was much more successful in shoving them into the ignition. The eight dollars he had to pay at the exit to the parking garage due to his lack of employee badge made him bite his tongue so hard it nearly bled, and as he drove home, Dean wanted nothing more than to punch something, get drunk, and pass out.

He did none of these things. He wandered aimlessly around the house, his rage cooling and shrinking into something he shied away from when he remembered it, the edges sharp and raw.

He took another shower, a long, hot one, until the water ran lukewarm in warning.

He made himself a can of soup, left over from his bout with the plague earlier that month.

He settled himself onto the couch and stared at the TV, flipping through the channels and watching none of it, letting the colors and sounds wash over him and lull him into numbness.

IV

The knock at the door sounded again, and Dean knew that ignoring it was useless, especially when he'd requested the company to begin with. Switching off the TV, he sighed and pushed himself off the couch.

"Hey," he said heavily as he opened the door, stepping aside and gesturing at Cas to come in.

"Hey." Cas held out the bag he was holding. "Any particular reason you couldn't clean out your locker yourself?"

Dean took the bag with one hand, digging the other into his pocket. "I, uh, kind of threw my badge at the HR person. Can't get into the locker room without it."

"Right." Cas nodded slightly. "And that didn't strike you as a bit overdramatic?"

Dean fidgeted. "Maybe a little. It seemed like a good idea at the time." He let the bag drop to the floor. "Make yourself at home. Sam and Jess are gone until the second. We've got the place to ourselves." He chuckled darkly. "Can't say I'll be very good company, though."

Wandering into the kitchen with a vague idea of grabbing beers for them, Dean was surprised to see Cas following him. "Dean…why did you quit?"

Dean closed his eyes and turned slowly to face the surgeon. "They're trying to fire you," he said bluntly, and then wondered if maybe he shouldn't have eased into it more gently.

But Cas did not look surprised; he merely nodded, regret casting a shadow over his eyes. "I know," he said quietly, "or at least, I suspected, which is the other side of the same coin."

"They tried to use me as an excuse." Even now, hours later, it made anger bubble in the pit of his stomach. "Tried to make it out like you were 'abusing your authority' or extorting me or…" Dean shook his head. "Quitting like that probably didn't do you any favors," he admitted.

Cas shook his head. "If they're determined to give me the axe, they'll find a way eventually," he replied. He leaned over to rest on his forearms on the counter. "I should probably accelerate my plans to leave before they get the chance."

Dean froze in the act of taking down glasses from the cupboard. "Plans to leave?" he repeated.

Cas nodded. "I was going to keep it quiet until I came to a decision…and then after this weekend…" he cleared his throat. "I was going to discuss it with you. Because it seemed like something I should do." He let his eyes fall to his hands clasped in front of him. "I've been unofficially offered a position on the University of Washington cardiovascular research team," he said quietly. "They need a CVPV surgeon for the ten years they'll be studying these intramuscular heart monitors. The head of the research team was one of my professors, and…he remembered me. Gave me a call." Cas shifted. "It'll be much less demanding than what I was doing before – lower pay, too, not much more than a typical research stipend, but…"

"It sounds like a good opportunity," Dean said, keeping his voice neutral. "Especially given the bullshit going on here."

"My thoughts exactly," Cas replied, glancing up. "I was already leaning toward yes. I was going to call him when he got back into his office on the fourth. But then…"

"Then I screwed things up." Dean sighed as he pushed a glass of water across the kitchen island toward Cas. "I have terrible timing."

"I wouldn't say you screwed things up," Cas countered. "But…your timing could use work, yes." Cas watched the water in his glass for a moment before taking a deep breath. "It would certainly put this conversation on more even footing if we'd been doing this for a little longer first."

A tiny suspicion took root in Dean's mind. "What do you mean?"

"What are you going to do now?" Cas asked abruptly, bringing the glass of water to his lips and looking expectantly at Dean.

Dean sighed explosively. "I don't know. I've kind of well and truly burned my bridges with the medical group, and they're practically the only name in town when it comes to surgery." He let a little bitter smile quirk a corner of his mouth. "I thought about loading all my shit into my car and just…wandering around and seeing where I ended up. Like I used to do, when it was me and Dad. But…"

"But that's not you anymore?" Cas interjected.

Dean snorted. "No. I have too much shit to fit into my car now." He shrugged, leaning back against the refrigerator. "I never got used to having money to spend. I've got a decent chunk sitting around in the bank. I don't have to figure things out right away, I guess." He huffed a short laugh. "Hell, I could even look into nursing school, or PA school – assuming they'd want someone like me." He glanced up. "Never was really serious about it before, with work and all, but now…"

"You'd make a good PA," Cas said confidently. "Or scrub nurse. Or are you done scrubbing?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. He looked down at his feet. "I like it. And it's not like the lawsuit thing is going to follow me around like it will you. I could scrub anywhere, if I wanted."

"What about Seattle?" Cas was very studiously peering at his water.

"What about it?" Dean replied.

"You ever been there?"

"Once or twice," Dean said, noncommittally.

"Would you like to go back?"

"Cas." Dean took a step forward and leaned over the kitchen island, looming until Cas looked up. "What exactly aren't you asking me?"

A shy smile played at the corners of Cas's mouth. "You're a good tech, Dean. You already know what I'm asking for." He licked his lips nervously. "You know what comes next."