I'm in the kitchen, putting away dishes, when there's a gentle knock at the door. It could be anyone, really. Even out here, outside the city, we get a fair number of nighttime visitors.

"Yeah, I'm comin'," I murmur, drying off my hands and hushing the dog when he starts to whine.

Blocking the door with my foot-- Max has taken to slipping out when we're not paying attention, I open it and then step back to let Cas inside. One of the last times he was here this time of night, he tried to kill me in the kitchen. Maybe that oughta make me wary, but it doesn't.

"I still haven't gotten used to you knocking."