Surprisingly, Crowley was quiet the whole time we were on the road. I swear, I was expecting some type of joke or wise crack, but all i got was the sweet sound of silence. As much as I enjoyed the taciturnity, it was a bit eerie for him to be this calm.

Other than that, my eyes were only on the road ahead of me. I would glance to the left or to the right, getting a good capture of my surroundings; hoping I didn't accidentally pass the center. But, with the lunatic cars like ants on a hill, kept me in the same position for at least ten minutes. It was annoying. Having to wait in traffic in a town such as Lawrence? Complete and utter bullshit if you ask me. I tapped my thumb on the steering wheel, licked my bottom lip constantly, and shook my knee, waiting for at least an inch of movement on the street.

Finally, after a million years on death row, I pulled into the driveway of the center. The place was more inquisitive than I imagined it to be. It was medium, and a few stories high,and a luminous bright white. The only decoration it had was the label it carried: LAWRENCE AUTISTIC CARE CENTER.

As I parked the Impala, both Crowley and I stepped out, and scanned the area. There were patients outside with their caretakers, either walking, playing, or exploring. The patients wore the same bright white, while the employees wore faded blue scrubs. Trees covered the perimeter of the building, and there was a garden on the east side. As much as it seems unblemished, a murder has happened here.

People stared at us as we entered the center, and walked up to the counter. Over the discombulated conversations, coughing, or small commotions, I knocked on the window at the Service Desk. A moment after, a woman with short, brown hair, and metal glasses slid open the window and looked up to us. Her expression was enlightened, and she wore a bright smile. But I could see it in her eyes that she didn't want to be there. She chewed on her gum as she spoke," May I help you two fine gentlemen?"

"Yes," I replied, digging into my jacket pocket to show my badge to her quickly, and put it back in it's place. "Detective Winchester, Lawrence SVU. This is Detective McLeod," I gestured to Crowley. "We're here to interrogate about the murder that happened here a few days ago."

Her smile dropped.

"O-Oh," She stuttered. "Of course. Go right ahead sir." She nodded, forcing a smile to be polite and quickly closed the window. My eyes fluttered confused.

"Alright Crowley. Let's go." I said, and walked passed the double doors and into the section of the paitents. The hallway was quiet, and each step each of us took echoed. Everything was white. The windows had no curtains, and allowed the sun to come inside the building with no problem.

"I hate this place..." Crowley commented under his breath. I turned to him. I asked him how he could ever say something like that. He looked up to me. "It's too white. No color what so ever." He kept his hands in his pockets. "Wouldn't hurt to put a little black, or blue, or red." I shook my head at his vacuousness. Who cares? It's not like this place was for the visitor's entertainment. I continued to stroll down the hallways, turning into different ones to spot any signs of yellow police tape.

"What are we doing Squirrel?" Crowley sighed, "This is wasting our time... Can just stop and ask a person or someth—" I stopped him.

"Shut up. Would you? I call the shots here, not you. I'll do whatever I think will make us solve this case faster. You're not my boss, you're not my 'bestie', you're nothing but my coworker. That's it. And we're here to figure out the murder." I replied. I made myself very clear. I didn't care who he was. He was nothing compared to Benny. And he thinks he can just skip in and pretend like we've known each other all our lives? No way in a million.

"Excuse me." I heard. Both of us turned to look at a short, dark haired woman who had an annoyed expression. "Can you take your boyfriend problems somewhere else please? My paitent is trying to relax." Both Crowley and I silenced ourselves. I stepped away from him awkwardly, clearing my throat.

"I'm sorry. We're from the SVU department. I'm Detective Winchester, this is my partner Detective McLeod. We're looking for the crime scene." I explained, hoping her idea was just a misunderstanding.

"Oh, that murder right? Yeah. They emptied that room long time ago. Sorry pal." She replied rudely, shrugging.

"Meg, I saw it and it's still there." I heard another voice. It sounded unsure, and it was a man. The woman stuck her head on the room and hushed the man. "But Meg, I saw it. I saw what happened too."

"Clarence, please. Silence." Meg said through her teeth. I grabbed her shoulder and made her face me.

"Hey Meg, yeah, can I talk to your buddy there? I heard what he said and that caught my attention real quick." I said in a slight threatening tone. She looked at me, and her facial expression faded. "Keeping possible evidence or witnesses is against the law. If I might remind you."

She huffed slightly. "Fine. Good luck trying to keep a straight conversation. Or if he acknowledges you at all. He only talks to me." I rolled my eyes and walked into the room. Inside, I found a man in the same white clothes as everyone else, but he was wearing a trenchcoat. That's weird. He was concentrating on some legos, trying to place them in stacks, and organized by color. His bed was neat, and the the only thing he owned was a TV hanging on the wall. The remote laid right in the middle of his pillow. "He likes to keep things in order." Meg said softly from behind me.

"What's with the trechcoat?" I asked, matching her volume.

"He wears it all the time. Never takes it off. Ever." She gestured. "It may look dirty and bleak, but it's actually pretty cute."

"Alright. I'll stay here and talk with him. You can take my partner to the crime scene." I said, pushing her out. "Thank you Meg, you're such a huge help." She rolled her eyes and grabbed Crowley's coat, pulling him away. I turned back to the paitent. I pulled out the other chair at the table, and sat next to him. He didn't acknowledge me. He kept messing with the legos. I watched him, how he made sure every tower was straight, and that they were in a perfect line. It was intresting, how an autistic man can be so tidy.

"Excuse me, Clarence. Can you tell me about what you saw?" I asked. he didn't face me, he didn't look at me. It's like I wasn't even there. "Clarence. Look at me." I added. But it didn't work. I sighed, a little frustrated. I looked around. Everything was plain. It was boring. At the corner of my eye, I saw something glistening on the door. I got up and walked up to it. It was a small name plate. It read: CASTIEL NOVAK.

"Castiel..." I breathed out.

"Yes?" I heard. I turned back to him. He was standing, full attention toward me. His trenchcoat fell to his knees, and his head was tilted slightly. We locked eyes. I locked eyes with the bluest color I've come to know.

And that's when I forgot how to breathe.