2nd December.

It's 05:49 when the eldest brother's phone alarm goes off and he briefly contemplated throwing it across the room before switching the damned thing off. Dean Winchester is decidedly not a morning person. What kind of idiot willingly sacrifices a chance to sleep in on a Sunday morning in favour of standing behind a coffee counter? Sam hadn't woken up yet. Dean had never seen him sleep so soundly, except when he was a kid and Dean could still ruffle his hair without having to reach up. Dean thought about throwing a bucket of cold water over his brother but figured he'd be pissed. Dean decided against it. Dean woke up ridiculously early for someone who doesn't do mornings. Then again, he didn't want to be late on the very first day and give a crap impression. Fifteen minutes and he's showered and refreshed. The only thing left to do is to shove some clothes on and then he is ready to go. Dean thought that he might even get the chance to relax a bit if he's lucky, maybe have something to eat other than a cold and tasteless left-over burger from the night before. Standing there in his boxer shorts, he looked through his clothes and swore under his breath, "Shit. What am I meant to wear? I can't remember what that manager guy said yesterday. Probably something smart. So that means that jeans and plaid shirts are out of the question. I'll wear a white shirt and black trousers or something. That should work. I'll be issued one of those tacky green aprons anyway, so that should be fine. Hopefully." He glanced at Sam, confirming that he was still asleep.

The collar of the shirt Dean changed into was too stiff and it itched like hell. Dean was apprehensive about the whole working scenario. He hid a knife in his shoe just in case. Sam woke up when Dean stumbled over the laptop charger and held on to the table to regain his balance.
"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam inquired sleepily before rubbing his eyes.
"I tripped over your stupid cable. Go back to sleep. You don't have to work your ass off all day." Dean instructed, pulling his black jacket and fixing the collar. "Right. Whatever you say, Dean." Sam yawned, turning over onto his front and falling asleep again.

Dean sincerely regretted staying up late the previous night. "Ugh. Why did I watch so much of that TV show last night?" He groaned as he cruised down the highway in his '67 Chevy Impala, struggling to keep his eyes open. He switched on the radio and Highway to Hell started playing as another song finished. Dean sang along loudly and waited 'til the music faded away before muttering "Yeah, well no damned hell hounds are gonna take me back there." Dean stood outside the coffee shop twenty minutes later. "Right, Winchester," he thought, "Don't screw this up."

It was two minutes past seven in the morning. The coffee shop was warm, although the weather outside is abysmal. Castiel was glad that it is not cold there because, despite his overcoat, he is not unfamiliar with the chills of the brisk wind on a winter's day. He decided to try a drink named the Breakfast Blend that morning, given that the name seemed appropriate for the time of was a different member of staff who served him on that Sunday morning. The male employee appeared to be inexperienced, thought Castiel, although he is hiding this well. Castiel deduced that it was the man's first day of work. The badge attached to his apron stated that his name is Dean. Castiel thought that is a nice name: it is simple. He believed that one of its definitions is 'leader'. This Dean has green eyes and freckles, and he seemed to be a man of strong stature. He was kind and, unlike most of the staff at the coffee shop, he did not mock Castiel when he said his name as he placed the order of one Breakfast Blend and a slice of pumpkin pie. Dean wrote down 'Cas' on the slip of paper for the order. Castiel looked at the piece of paper with a considerable amount of interest; would 'Cas' be considered a nickname? It is a shortened version of my name, but I do not think that anyone has called me that before, he thought, his blue eyes narrowed in concentration. As Castiel collected the drink after paying, he sat down on a wooden seat, eating the pie and picking up a tattered book to read. He liked Dean. His cheerful manner did not feel forced. Castiel hoped that Dean would be at Starbucks often, as he would very much like to see him again. Castiel picked up the drink and took a gulp of the strong substance. He sighed and put the coffee mug down on the table before him. It was too tangy for his taste.

It's six minutes past one and Dean is sitting in the back of the shop in the store room, speaking to his brother on the phone. "Well, this place isn't half as bad as I thought it would be. Not counting the disgusting green aprons. Starbucks is actually kinda nice and reasonably stress-free, given that there aren't that many customers here but all of them are as dull as a brick. Well, except this one guy."
"Oh yeah? What's he like?" Sam responded after a moment.

Dean continued, "He's been sitting in the same spot practically since we opened up this morning. He hasn't taken off his overcoat, even though it feels like a sauna in this place. All he does is gaze out of the window, but not like most people who are usually waiting for someone; this guy seems to be looking out of the window just 'cause he wants to admire the view. According to a co-worker, this is the second time he's been in here. I served him earlier today. In fact, he was my first customer. Apparently his name's Castiel. I thought he was joking at first, but his expression was completely solemn. Cool name though. It sort of fits in with his unusual attire and persona, don't you think? I think I'm gonna call him- Sam. Are you even listening?" Dean frowned at the silence on the other end of the line.
"Oh, yeah, sure. Listening to you drone on about your new boyfr-"
"Shut up, Sam. He's just interesting, s'all. You got any new information about the supposed animal attacks?"
"Actually, yes." Sam answered, a hint of smugness in his tone of voice as he tapped a few keys on his laptop. "I've been looking up the folklore and local legends in these parts just in case it's not a werewolf we're dealing with. Remember the daeva and Zoroastrian demons in Chicago? I checked the morgue today; the heart was missing from all three bodies. Each was torn out savagely. That could link to the shadow demons. But the lunar cycle fits: there's a killing every half month so it's more likely that we're dealing with a werewolf here."
"I'm starting to think that you enjoy researching more than actually killing monsters, Sammy. Nice work though," Dean replied appreciatively. "Speaking of which, working is exhausting. I'd choose ganking demons over this any day. How the hell do normal people cope? I'd go insane. Anyway, the killings every half moon pretty much seals the deal for us, right?"
"Yeah, I guess so. The locals think that an animal attack is the cause of the last four killings. It's plausible, I suppose. The people here aren't used to creatures like this." Sam answers.
"Wait, four killings? You said there were only three bodies?" Dean scratched at the side of his neck as he spoke.
"Well, four bodies went missing but only three were recovered, and they were found in the woods."
"So what are we dealing with? An alpha? The missing body, that was the one who went missing first, right?"
"I don't think the guy's an alpha, Dean, just a regular werewolf-"
"Yeah, who had an eat-your-heart-out buffet," Dean retorted, interrupting Sam. "Now all we've gotta do is track it down and fire it with silver before that son of a bitch strikes again," Dean chuckled, hanging up and slipping the phone back in his pocket.
Another employee walked into the store room. "Were you just talking about werewolves?"
"What? Are you kidding me?" Dean laughed, "No way. I was just explaining to my kid brother how difficult it is to kill werewolves in his lame video game."
"Oh, good. I was beginning to think…you know, with the recent attacks in the area..." She looked at Dean anxiously, "Anyway, I'd best be getting back to work."
"You've got nothing to worry about," Dean told her reassuringly. He glanced at her name badge, "Nice talking to you, Stacey" he called out as she left the room. Dean stood up and followed her, ready to serve the next customer.

Dean kept an eye on Castiel, who left the shop at two. He also left behind his faded old book. Dean picked it up and went to follow him, only to find that he had disappeared without a trace. Dean looked at the book before placing it behind the counter, vowing to hand it back to the customer the next day, providing that he returned. "The Origin of Species. That's some light reading he's got there," Dean chuckled, talking to a co-worker. Dean wondered whether Castiel came into the shop every day, or just occasionally. Hell, Dean didn't even know why he cared so much about the guy. I'm just concerned, he thought, it's perfectly rational. I mean, he looked kinda lonely sitting there and drinking coffee alone.

Dean's shift ended at three and he put his apron on the peg, glad to get back to the motel and spend time with his brother. Dean drove to the motel and let himself into the room. Sam was sitting comfortably on the fraying sofa, watching cartoons.
"Hey, budge up," Dean elbowed Sam in the ribs as he sat down. "Show your elders some respect."
Sam laughed, moving up a little, "I don't think so, jerk."
"Bitch." Dean grinned as he settled down to watch television with his younger brother.