Simplicity

Dean's belly growled, distracting him from the show he was watching.

"Sorry, Dr. Sexy, you'll have to wait," Dean muttered as he paused his recording of the show to get up and walk to the kitchen. He was pleasantly surprised to see Castiel sitting at the table. He was absorbed into some ancient book that laid atop many other, old, crumpling volumes of lore. He looked up when Dean came up to the table and smiled.

"Hello, Dean," he greeted. "How was today's episode?" he asked, leaning back in his seat. Dean shrugged.

"Not finished with it yet. Had to get a snack," Dean replied, opening the fridge. He took out a beer, then turned when he heard a chuckle.

"Dean, that is not a snack," Castiel said, leaning forward on his elbows. He was smiling, and his entire body seemed to radiate warmth. Dean couldn't help but smile back, until he thought his cheeks might hurt.

"There's a sandwich in there. I saw you didn't eat much at dinner," Castiel said before turning back to his books. Dean looked into the open fridge, and sure enough, there was a sandwich sitting on a plate, right there in the middle of the shelf. There was cheese and ham inside, squished nicely between two perfect buns, and Dean thought it could only get better if the thing had a little red ribbon on top.

"I love you so much right now," Dean said, beaming, as he took the sandwich out of the fridge.

"I know," Castiel replied, looking up with a grin.

"Don't be so smug," Dean said with a chuckle, then leaned down to lightly peck Castiel on the lips. He pulled away slowly, loving the way Castiel's eyes slowly fluttered open, staring at him curiously, as if asking is there more? And boy, there was. Dean placed his hand on Castiel's cheek and leaned in for another, deeper kiss.

"Mm, okay, Dean," Castiel murmured. "I need to get back to this."

"What is it?" Dean asked, looking down at the book.

"Sam needed help finding information on how to kill this creature," Castiel said, pointing to a picture of a monster in the book.

"Huh, never seen that thing before," Dean stated.

"Neither have I. It doesn't seem too dangerous, but so far we have yet to find its weakness." Dean nodded his head.

"All right. Let me know if Sam needs my help. In the meantime," he raised the sandwich and the beer with a satisfied grin, "back to my show." Castiel smiled warmly, then rubbed his eyes.

"Don't stay up too long, okay, Cas?" Dean said as he headed out the door.

"I won't," Castiel called back from the kitchen. Dean smiled, setting his beer down on the coffee table. Dr. Sexy was still there, waiting for him to hit the play button. The sandwich was nice and cool, but not too cold, and the cheese and ham tasted so well together that Dean couldn't think of anything else he'd rather have in his mouth right now. Well, maybe he could, but we're speaking strictly food here.

Unfortunately for Dr. Sexy, Dean began to snooze off about halfway through the episode. Maybe his stomach needed the energy to digest the sandwich, or maybe not having drank much in the last few months made it so much easier for him to be put down quicker with less alcohol. Whatever the reason was, Dean found himself waking up to the DVR screen and a dark, quiet house. The kitchen and hallway lights were turned off. The only light came from the television. Dean looked up at the TV box to see what time it was to find it was well past midnight.

"Crap," Dean grumbled as he slowly rolled off the sofa. He stood up and stretched a little. Getting old sure wasn't easy. He had all these aches and pains, and he still had some time before his fortieth birthday.

He quickly glanced into the kitchen to make sure Castiel wasn't asleep there. Not finding him there, Dean decided to head upstairs to their bedroom, finding his way in the darkness with ease. Castiel must have gotten to bed pretty quickly. But wasn't he doing research for Sam? Dean thought it would take longer. Typically, if Sam called, one of them would be searching through books and the web at least well past midnight, if not till the next morning. But maybe Castiel found the answer quickly. Maybe a silver bullet or something Sam had with him all along did the trick.

Dean entered their bedroom to find the bed was still made, and Castiel was not there. The light was on in the bathroom, and Dean breathed a small sigh of relief. It wasn't that he was paranoid. Castiel wasn't that weak. He could take care of himself. But Dean still kept a shotgun by their bedside, and some salt, and of course every rug had a Devil's Trap spray painted on it. It was all just precaution.

Dean collapsed onto the bed, on his back, with a contented sigh. He knew he should get up and take his clothes off, but there wasn't that much to take off, anyway. He could sleep in his jeans.

Drip. Dean flinched. It was probably a hair or some weird tick.

Drip. Dean flinched again, this time cracking his eyes open a little.

Drip, drip. Dean's eyes shot wide open, his bloodied face contorting in utter horror.

"CAS!" he screamed as the ceiling suddenly lit up in flames, consuming the fallen angel, who stared hopelessly down from the ceiling, his lips mouthing the words;

I'm sorry.