Castiel was nearing his shift, managing the low-stress job fairly well. He was finding there were even some things he liked about the library and some of the soft-spoken clients, or his regular transplants like Meg or Peter. If he had to work for money he could have done much worse.
It was nearing the end of his shift and he was re-shelving some of the fiction books that had been returned during the day. His precise mind found the task easy and he didn't make mistakes unless he was very distracted.
He was just about to slot War of the World back into it's place when he heard the cry. Cas knew the voice and even if he didn't know Much was coming he'd know who was in trouble. He laid the book on it's shelf, out of place, and hurried for the main door. It may have been Much he expected to see but it wasn't Much he strictly saw. The witch. Did she do something to him? Was it something else? Cas was thrown but his worry for his friend overrode his concern for himself. He moved to his friend's side, taking his wrist, resting a hand on his arm. He looked into his friend's frightened eyes as he led him away from the door. His voice was breathless. "Much... what happened?"