The morning sun filtered in through the bedroom window and woke Dean Winchester. He opened his eyes and turned his gaze to the sleeping figure of his husband, Castiel Novak, on the opposite side of the bed. Dean snuggled closer, wrapping Cas in his arms.

"Are you awake?" Dean whispered into Cas' ear. "No," came the muffled response. "Shut up."

"Aw, c'mon Cas," Dean murmured. "Don't be that way. Get up."

"Five more minutes," Cas mumbled into his pillow.

Dean laughed quietly. "Well, you can take five, but I'm gonna seize the day now." And with that, he rose from the bed, taking the sheets with him.

Cas shivered. "Assbutt," he grumbled as he got up as well. He dressed himself on his usual outfit, a white button down shirt with black slacks, complete with a blue tie, facing the wrong way, and his tan trenchcoat. After brushing his teeth, he walked toward the kitchen, where he could hear cursing and banging. When he entered, he saw Dean trying to make the coffeemaker work. "What is it, Dean?" he asked with a sigh.

"It's the goddamn coffeemaker!" Dean yelled, hitting it again. "It won't work!"

"Should we send it to the guy who fixed last time?" Cas asked, finding a small toolkit under the sink and taking some tools out of it.

"No!" Dean shouted again. "Dammit, Cas, we can fix this!"

"Dean," Cas stated calmly as he edged his husband away from the stubborn machine, "It's not broken."

He tinkered with the coffeemaker for a few minutes, then plugged it in and pressed the button on it. Hot black coffee poured into Dean's cup.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said as he took the mug and sipped his coffee. "You really are a miracle." He kissed his husband on the cheek, and Cas blushed. "You need to put on clothes, Dean."

Dean looked down at himself. He was still wrapped in the bedsheets. "Oh, yeah. I probably should." He padded back to the bedroom. Cas shook his head and made himself breakfast.

When Dean returned, wearing a suit with a long black coat, he found Cas measuring the ingredients for making brownies. "Wow, baked goods this early in the morning?"

"It's never too early for brownies, Dean," said Cas as he took out a few mixing bowls. Dean chuckled. "Damn right." He kissed Cas on the head.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go to the store. We need more, uh-" Dean looked around the kitchen in search of an item they needed more of. "We need more bread."

Cas laughed and shook his head. "No, we don't. You just noticed the lack of pie in our freezer."

Dean sighed. "Fine, you got me. I'm still going to the store."

"Okay." Cas tossed a piece of paper at him. "What's this?" Dean asked.

"A shopping list. Sam and Gabe are coming over soon, and I want to be fully stocked for when the moose and the trickster eat us out of house and home."

Dean grinned. "Always prepared, you are." He kissed Cas on the lips. "I love you."

"I love you too." Cas said as he began mixing the brownie ingredients together. Dean grabbed his keys and headed out the door. "See ya!"

The Impala was parked in the driveway. Dean climbed in and turned the radio to ACDC. Humming and nodding his head along to the music, he pulled out and headed to the city.

When he reached the supermarket, he grabbed a shopping cart and went inside. After completing most of the items on the list, including pie, he headed over to checkout.

However, he stopped and did a double take when he spotted a familiar-looking redhead in a Lord of the Rings shirt in the cereal aisle. "Charlie?!"

The redhead looked up. "Dean?"

Dean walked up the aisle to where Charlie was. "Are you still on break?"

"Almost off it," she replied. "I think I went to every comic convention in the Midwest. I'll tell you all about it at work next week. Oh, and say hi to Castiel for me." She waved cheerily at him and walked off down the aisles.

Dean waved after her and then checked out the items in his cart.

His good mood lasted for the entire ride back from the city.

"Honey, I'm home!" Dean called as he entered his and Cas' house. Nobody answered.

"Cas?" He moved to the kitchen. "Cas?"

A light veil of smoke hung over the kitchen and dining room. Dean tensed. Cas never burned food.

"Cas?" Dean dropped the groceries on the floor and drew out his gun. He entered the kitchen.

"Oh, God, Cas!"

Cas' brownies were blackened lumps sitting in the oven.

And Cas...Cas...

Dean's husband was lying on the kitchen floor. His throat was slit. There was blood everywhere.

Stifling a sob, Dean ran to Cas' body and felt for a pulse, but there was none. Cas' trenchcoat and tie were soaked in blood. His blue eyes were lifeless orbs, staring at nothing.

No. This couldn't be happening. Dean sobbed, cradling Cas in his arms. He had been gone for only a half hour.

His shaking hand dialed 911.

"Nine-one-one, is this an emergency?"

"Y-yes," Dean choked out. "I'd-I'd like to report a, a, a death at 416 Randolph Street, Oak Park, Illinois. C-come quick." He hung up.

When the police came, they found Dean still holding Cas and covered in blood and tears. They had to pry him away from his husband's corpse.

Sam and Gabriel arrived on the scene a few minutes later. "Let me through, I'm his brother!" Sam yelled at the officer trying to restrain him. He broke past and ran to Dean, who was wrapped in a shock blanket.

"Dean, Dean, are you okay? Oh, God, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry about Cas. It's gonna be okay. We're here. We're gonna find out who did this and they're gonna pay, alright? Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean's head rose from its bowed position and he stared at Sam with hollow eyes. "Cas..."

"I know," said Sam. "I know, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry about Cas.
I'm so sorry."

Gabriel hurried up to them. He looked over at Cas' body, which was being covered by a sheet.

"Oh my..." Gabriel whispered, his eyes filling with tears. Cas was his adopted half-brother, after all. He turned to Dean. "What happened?"

"Found him," Dean whispered hoarsely. "Lying on the floor. Dead."

"Oh my god." Gabe staggered and sat down heavily next to Dean. He turned to him. "Who did this?"

Dean shook his head. "Dunno. But I'm gonna find them. And I'm gonna kill them."

He threw off his shock blanket and left the building. It was time to go to the bar. He needed a beer. Or two. Or six.