It surprised him how quickly he got used to it.
The feel of his warm body next to him as he woke up, the trench coat that was now hung over his bedside chair almost every night. He no longer felt the heat rush to his face when they held hands, even though he still got butterflies in his stomach when he looked into those beautiful blue eyes.
They started to go on fewer hunts, spending more time at the bunker and the neighboring town. He had even secretly begun to look at houses they could call their own.
The hunts they did go on were simple ones, find the ghost/werewolf/vampire and get rid of it.
Their last hunt was supposed to be one of the simple ones.
All signs pointed to an easy haunting, but once they got there it quickly became obvious that this was something bigger and nastier.
By the time they realized what it was, an angel blade was sticking out of his angel's throat. He stood, unable to comprehend what he was seeing as those beautiful blue eyes erupted in a bright, painful light.
Life without him was not as easy to get used to.
The bed seemed colder, and even though the trench coat still hung upon that bedside chair, it had started to gather dust.
The last time he ever saw those blue eyes was when he wrapped his body in a blanket and placed it upon the funeral pyre.
