AN: Happy birthday, Lovelyfangirls! I hope you like it. :3

Dean woke in the middle of the night, confused. For some reason, something felt...off. Turning, he found Castiel nestled comfortably on his pillow. With a smile, Dean scooted closer, draping an arm over his fiance's sleeping form. I can't believe the wedding is next week, he thought wonderingly. Sometimes it felt as though he had dreamed or hallucinated the entire relationship. Why this man had chosen him out of everyone in the world-

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Dean chuckled lightly, kissing Cas on the shoulder. "Baby, I'm not that cheap."

"Oh, really?" The other man turned to Dean, snuggling close. "I bed you all the time without paying."

Snorting, Dean retorted, "You're digging yourself into debt. And I charge interest!"

They giggled together before kissing. Dean rolled his lover onto his back, nestling between Cas' legs. His fiance arched up beneath him, ready for attention. Dean happily obliged, kissing down the other's neck and bare chest. They were both already hard, ready for sex. Dean was reaching for the bottle of lube on the nightstand when he stilled.

"What?" Castiel demanded breathlessly.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

They both froze for an endless moment, ears straining to pick up any foreign noise. For the longest time, nothing. Then...creak.

In a flash, Dean was on his feet, dressed in pyjama bottoms, and armed with the gun they hid under the bed. Cas quickly pulled on his own PJ bottoms.

"Stay here," Dean ordered. His lover nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'll be right back. Call the police, okay?"

Once he was on the phone, Dean switched the safety on his gun off and quietly padded down the hall. That creak could have come only from one place in the house-the bottom step. Nowhere else had that distinctive sound.

Gun pointed at the floor, he moved stealthily to the head of the stairs and peered into the darkness. He couldn't make anything out, so he stepped down a step. Then another. It took a full minute to reach the middle step. Nothing stirred in that time. A set of headlights washed over the room as a car passed on the street.

No one was in the entry hall. Dean hurried down the rest of the case, skipping the last one. He went through every room downstairs, flipping on lights as he went.

He found nothing out of place. The front door was even locked.

Frowning, he turned the safety on and slipped the gun into the back of his pyjama pants. Their house was fairly new, and didn't make noises at night. Something had to have made that stair creak, but there was no one in the house. He tried to shrug it off, but a feeling of unease clung to him like smoke. Loping back upstairs, he made his way back to Cas.

"False alarm," he announced, pushing the door open.

Cas wasn't on the bed. Worried, he checked in their bathroom. Nothing.

He wasn't in the guest room or bath.

"CAS!" he shouted. No answer.

He was still frantically searching when the police showed up.