Every early morning, the sky was still covered in stars. I would wake up before the sun. Sometimes I would just lay there, in my lonely king sized bed for no reason. Other times, I would get up because I had no reason. I'd slip out of my solitary bed and place my feet onto the freezing floor that covered the entire apartment I owned. It wasn't to big, but I guess its it's just right for a single guy, huh?

I'd yawn, running my fingers through the short, dark-blonde hair that I had, while stretching my chest, underneath my black T-shirt. I'd fix my boxers, they always seemed to shift overnight. Then I would find my way into the kitchen without turning on any lights. It was way too early for that. I walk into the kitchen, and only turn the bar lights on, which lit the room barely. I pull out a coffee mug and instant coffee powder from the cabinet. While I put the coffee to brew, I pull out the toaster from the bottom cabinet, where the rest of the culinary electronic devices are. Then I would grab the loaf of bread, untie it,  and place two slices in the toaster slots, and push the lever down. While those two were on, I drag my feet over to the bathroom, turn on the light and stare at myself in the window. I was tired, I noticed slight bags underneath my eyes, and my facial hair getting longer. At this time I would shave, but leaving just a bit so I could look professional. After washing my face from the shaving cream and cut hair, and drying my face, I'll brush my teeth. During the process I would spit and throw my toothbrush remembering I had coffee and toast ready.

Frustrated, I stomp out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen. Before I can pour myself a cup of coffee, my cellphone goes off. I sigh, quickly run back to my room and pick it up.

"Hello?" I say, my voice surprisingly raspy from getting up this early.

"Winchester," I hear my chief's voice, Bobby Singer. "Good thing you're awake. We got business to take care of."

"Chief, when don't we? Our lives are practically soul driven to the problems of society." I replied, huffing and strolling back to the kitchen.

"That's what being part of the authorities are son. You're in the Special Victims Unit, it's like sacrificing your life." I heard him reply, as I finally poured coffee into my mug and taking a sip out of it.

"I tell myself everyday." I said after swallowing the hot beverage. "So what's the word old man?" I could hear chief chuckle at the other end, like if I was joking about his age.

"You got yourself a new partner, since ol' Benny left." He replied, sounding unsurprised. Benny was a good friend of mine. Did every case, solved it, and celebrated after. We always had each other's back, either through danger, or life matters. I sighed.

"What's his name Chief?" I asked, setting the coffee mug down, and sliding one of the slices of goats out of the toaster slot, and take a bite out of it.

"His name of Fergus McLeod. But it says here on his resume that he goes by the name 'Crowley'."  He replied, the sound of shuffling papers could be heard as well.  

"Like the poet?" I add, my mouth half full of bread.

"Whatever floats your boat. But that's what he's called." Chief sighed. "Plus, I'm assigning you two on your first case together. Dress nice, I'm making it a date."

"Hah!" I exclaimed. His sarcasm was the best, even though half of it was centuries old. "What's the case Chief?"

"There was a murder down at the Autistic Care Center downtown. The victim says to be at least a sixteen year old girl, her neck slit." He responded, his voice sounding disappointed. No matter how much he was the chief of the unit here in this part of Kansas, he hated the fact of murder and all those who committed it. He was always disgusted and angry.

"That's unfortunate." I replied, letting out a long sigh. "Who the hell would kill an autistic sixteen year old?"

"Evil, twisted people son." Chief responded quickly, emphasizing every vowel in the sentence. "Hurry up and get down here Winchester. I'll give you the rest of the information when you arrive."

"Alright. Bye Chief." I said and hung up.  I eat both of the slices of toast and take the mug of coffee to my room, where I set it down on the dresser so I can open up my closet. The door slides to the left to reveal the little clothes I have. It was a large closet. And everything I wear barely takes up a third of it. I felt like something was missing to fill the rest. Or somebody.  But my relationship status has been idle. The last woman I was with, got hit on the head and didn't remember me in anyway. So I lost her. That was years ago. But now that I joined the force, I didn't have time to date. I couldn't, my job was dangerous. Plus... I've lost my sense for love. I told myself there was no point in it, my heart was only crushed one way or another.

I study my wardrobe for a second, then pull out a jacket, white long sleeve and pants. I toss it all onto my bed as I begin to undress myself from my pajamas. After taking off my shirt and pants, I throw them into a bucket I kept across the room; leaving me in my boxers and half naked. First, I slip on my pants, jumping a little so that I could pull them up to my waist. Then I slide on the white shirt, button it up, and tuck it into my pants, zipping up the zipper and clipping it. Also, i put a belt on, just in case they happen to fall off. I fix my sleeves and collar, while walking over to the back of my bedroom door, my eyes searching for a tie. I pull a striped, navy blue and grey one off the hook, and wrap it around my neck, tying it properly. Then i put my collar back down and slip on the jacket, buttoning it up. After all that get up, I get socks out of my drawer and shoes that throw in the corner whenever I get home from work. I sit on my bed and put both on, sighing. Lastly, I walk out of my room, closing the door behind me. I grab my car keys to my Impala, a nineteen sixty-seven Chevrolet. My most prized possession right now. I stuff those into my pocket, then I grab my badge and  place it my coat pocket, that was in the inside. As i was about to leave the door, I stop in front of the mirror I have hanging there to fix any slight errors or any lose strands of hair. Suddenly, I catch myself saying:

"I'm leaving, okay baby?" I yell out. It took my a while to realize that I was talking to nothing. I look around my apartment one last time, to see how empty it was. I lick my bottom lip and sigh, as I walk out the door and slam it behind me.

Oh yeah, that's right. No one's here.