Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“The world is never quiet, even its silence eternally resounds with the same notes, in vibrations which escape our ears. As for those that we perceive, they carry sounds to us, occasionally a chord, never a melody.”

- Albert Camus

November 7th, 2005

0534 hours

It was cold.

The morning was never too cold in Fort Rucker. Even in the fall, and the dark morning nonetheless, you could feel the Alabama humidity creeping up on you. Hell, it took him only a few days to figure that out. But not this morning. No, there was a crispness in the air that he could shake. It was enough to make him want to shiver.

No, the coldness was probably coming from the brother next to him. It had been this way since they groggily got up at 4 am and packed the car.

Silence and coldness.

What more did he expect, honestly? Even them talking about it was enough to put them in bad moods for the rest of the day. It always started off kind enough, simple words about the future. But it heated up and up until they were yelling and one of them stormed off. Sam made his thoughts clear about this whole situation. But that didn’t change Dean’s mind nonetheless.

Who are you trying to prove yourself to? Seriously Dean, who? I don’t give a shit if you go into the military. Even Bobby and Ellen said they would prefer to see you as a mechanic. But they are both too nice to try and stop you! Stop trying to be a perfect little soldier and remember you actually have a family who cares if you live or die!

Dean stopped the black Impala in front of the military hanger. The brightness outlined the various families all hugging goodbye to soldiers. There seemed to be dozens of them, some crying and others just giving a simple nod of goodbye.

There was this one family, however, he paused to look at. A very young soldier next to two little girls who looked to be his daughters. His wife was trying not to cry as she took a picture of him smiling while the two girls held each of his hands. They were both still in pajamas, tired and dazed. One, a brunette in blue cat pajamas, was holding on tightly and burying her face into his hand as if she would never see him again. The other sister looked as if she didn’t even know what was going on. That her father was going off to war and might not come back. She just smiled for the picture. They both couldn’t be more than 6 years old.

Dean looked away and returned to his estranged brother. Sam seemed to be looking at the same family as him, his jaw tight. He cleared his throat and attempted to try and break the tension in the air.

“Well, we are here. No goodbye for your brother going off to war? Sam?”

Silence.

“I know how much you hate this, but there is nothing I can do about it. Sammy, please just say—” Dean stopped himself, seeing how futile this was. Sam already said all he was going to the day before.

“I’m going to miss you, remember that.” He managed to get out quietly before leaving the car to get his bags from the trunk. The humidity was a stark contrast to the frigid car.  

Dean walked over to the back, rubbing his hand through his too-short hair. It has been weeks since he got it cut, but he never got used to it.

As he opened the trunk, a hand stopped him. Sam was there, his shaggy hair falling in front of his face. There was tension in the air once more. Was Sam going to accept him leaving or try to stop him?

“Dean, I—” Sam started to say before Dean cut him off with a hug. He stopped speaking and just hugged Dean back.

Finally, Dean let go, realizing that he needed to get on a plane soon. “No more chick flicks moments, you hear me?” The last thing he needed was to have Benny rile him for a 15-hour flight because he cried while hugging his baby brother goodbye.

Sam just scoffed, shaking his head with a sad laugh. “Shut up, you love chick flick moments.” Dean laughed, not denying it because it was true.

Silence returned when Dean pulled out the army green duffle bag that contained his stuff. For a moment there, maybe just half a second, they both forgot what was truly going on. It now dawned on them with renewed solemness.

“Dean, seriously..” Sam resumed, his voice slightly unsteady with emotion. “I am going to miss you. 18 months is just—” Too long. They both felt that, there was no denying it. When he was younger, Dean couldn’t go an entire school day without checking in on his brother. Now he had to go 18 months, only having low-quality skype and a few phone calls if he was lucky.

They fell silent again. It was hard to find the words to say to each other.

“Uh, Ellen sends her love and asks that you watch over Jo. Oh, and that she will fly over and kick the crap out of you if you don’t call them soon.” Sam said, a small smile on his face. Dean laughed, not doubting for a moment that she probably would. Ellen was much more at ease with him deploying, understanding why he needed to. Jo had deployed before him by a couple weeks, fortunately to the same base as he was going now. Ellen was strong, just reminding her before she left that she is still her baby. She would be here now if it wasn’t for the fact she had to open the Roadhouse and that he insisted that she didn’t need to go.

Before Dean could respond and reassure on how he was going to take care of Jo, Sam spoke up again.  “Just, stay safe. Honestly, we don’t need—I don’t need—to lose someone else.”

That statement hung in the air for a moment, them both thinking about it. He was right.

“Sam, don’t worry. 18 quick months, and I’ll be back. It is just like boot camp, only longer.” Yeah, and they both remember how awful that was. Sam trying to get into Stanford, Dean worrying he won’t be good enough. They were both busy and miserable. And that was only for 15 weeks.

But by the end, Sam got into Stanford and Dean managed to impress his superiors enough that they promoted him. He was top of his class in hand to hand combat, weapons expertise, and physical training. It also helped that he had Captain Bobby Singer vouching for him and that his dad was a war hero. They thought he was going to follow in his footsteps of his father, which he was, and advanced him.

“I love you, Sammy. ” Dean smiled, knowing that there was no need for Sam to return the words. They may butt heads a lot, but that was one thing that never came into question between the two of them.

Dean walked up to Sam and hugged him, this time not caring if a few tear drops He was going off to Afghanistan; Sam was going to Palo Alto to attend Stanford, the fucking nerd. It was just too hard to accept that he was going off and leaving.

When the finally let go of each other, Dean glanced at his watch to check the time.

5:54 am.

Shit.

Shit!

“I need to go. Like, now.” Dean muttered, turning to go before his commanding officer kicked his ass. Report time is 6 am and they leave at 6:30. He began to run in order to get there in time.

“Dean, wait!” Sam yelled out, grabbing Dean. A piece of paper into his hand before shoving him off to go. Dean would have looked at it if he wasn’t late, instead just shoving it in his jacket pocket. Tears were in both of their eyes despite their best attempts.

“Take care of her, alright? Make sure Baby is well—” He began to rattle off, almost forgetting to make sure took care of the 1967 black Chevy Impala that was his life and treasure.

“Go before I kick your ass!” Sam yelled, laughing a bit. Dean nodded, getting the message and giving his brother a salute before running off.

It seemed like he was the only one not there yet. Everyone else already said their farewells and lined up inside the hanger. He got lucky, slipping into line next to Benny as the officer began yelling out calls to take roll call.

“What took you so long? Kissing the wife and kids goodbye?” Benny whispered, his southern drawl making his sound like he was native to the cotton state. He was also giving Dean a look that confirmed how lucky Dean was to get there just in the nick of time.

“Yeah, yours.” Dean murmured, getting a chuckle from Benny before he cleared his throat to cover up that fact he was.

He was lucky he found a friend like Benny, who often kept Dean from doing stupid and impulsive things. They meet in a bar where Benny stopped Dean from punching the shit out of some Navy soldier talking crap about the Army. It was by some miracle they were assigned to the same platoon.

“Private First Class Dean Winchester?” The officer’s voice rang out loud and clear. Dean yelled back to alert him of his presences before relaxing a bit. He wanted to take his jacket off because somehow at 6 fucking am in the morning, the humidity was getting to him. Benny was standing just fine in his several layers. He grew up in the Bayou and somehow was impervious to it. He did notice how much Dean was sweating however.  

“Is the heat gettin’ to ya, city boy? Didn’t you grow up in Kansas? They got just as bad heat up there.” Benny inquired. Dean rolled his eyes and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“I was born there, but I moved a lot. Never stayed in one place. I’m sorry not all of us can withstand this godforsaken climate.” Dean shot back, making Benny just scoff at him. Kansas was him home state, but it wasn’t his home. The closest thing he does have to a home was either the Roadhouse or the precious Impala now in his brother’s

It took them the rest of the half hour to check through their things to make sure that everyone had all of their things. Somehow, Benny had known Dean would forget a pair of socks and gave him one. Despite that close call, he had everything else and was ready to go.

Officers began naming platoons so that they may board the plane together. Dean couldn’t name all of the platoons in Whiskey Company, much less the 1st Battalion.  

“All soldiers in the 54th Platoon, line up!” A couple of hoots and hollers rang out as the soldiers got excited at the naming of their platoon. Benny slapped him hard on the shoulder and laughed, walking up to line up onto the plane.

“Come on, Private! We got a war to fight.” Dean just shook his head and followed.

“Don’t patronize me! You’re a private too, or did your head get so big that you forgot?” He retorted. Benny just clicked his tongue in disappointment and stood in line with the rest of the soldiers.

Dean looked at the plane he was flying on. The plane was a large Boeing, the type that looked to fit hundreds of soldiers. It’s grey paint was a contrast to the bold black letters painted on the side spelling out The Spirit of Connecticut. Of all the planes he was going to crash and burn in, he didn’t want it to be called The fucking Spirit of Connecticut. But, it was the one that he was going to be trapped in for 15 hours on his way to Camp Kearny.

Something tightened in his chest. God, he hated flying. Whenever he could avoid he did. But you can’t drive to Paktika, Afghanistan. No one else noticed Dean’s sudden freezing. Benny was too busy chatting with some other private, a scrawny almost boyish looking guy with a goofy grin on his face. There was a vague familiarity with him. They probably went to boot camp together and just never talked.

Everyone started to move forward, signaling their departure. An overwhelming feeling of hesitance overcame him. What about Sammy? What about Ellen? Who was going to take Ben to his baseball games and… and…

No, he can’t back out now. He came to terms with this a long time ago. Hell, it had been his dream since he was a kid.

But none the less, he still couldn’t believe that this was happening. For the majority of his life, his entire job was to take care of Sam. Nothing was ever about him. And now he was travelling thousands of miles away to some godforsaken army base away from him.

You’re going to make a great soldier.

Someone nudged him from behind and he left his thoughts. This.. this is what he is. This is his future.

He took a seat in a middle row, away from any windows and focused on not panicking. There was a reason he drove everywhere for God’s sake. His heart hammered in his chest as if it was the beat to a heavy rock song. Benny took a seat next to him, as calm and relaxed as ever.

“Now, what got your panties tied up in a knot? Relax, we’re only going to Afghanistan.” He laughed, elbowing Dean who wasn’t finding the entire thing very funny. Benny gave him a puzzled look before realizing what was going on.

“You are afraid of flying, aren’t ya? Oh, this is going to be a fun 15 hours and 7 minutes for you!” Benny teased, laughing once more. Growling a bit, Dean leaned back in his chair and tried to relax. Something crinkled in his pocket and he suddenly remembered that Sam gave him something.

After squirming around to grab it and panicking slightly as the plane lurched forward, he pulled out a folded up photo. It was well worn at the edges, someone having held onto it a lot. A date and some words in beautiful cursive was scrawled across it. May 23rd, 1981. Dean and his dad! A little heart was next to it. There was a vague familiarity to it, as if he remembered holding this before. Slowly, he unfolded it to see the photo.

It was of his dad holding him in his army uniform. This must be from his first deployment. Dean was about 2 years old, his hair strikingly blonde. It was early in the morning, Dad holding him in his arms. They were both smiling as if there was no tomorrow. His mom must be the one taking the photo. It came back to him. He remembered that night. He didn’t actually realize his dad was leaving, and didn’t realize for a couple of months. Dad was going off to help in the some remote country trying to overthrow a communist government. Mom stayed strong, never showing how much she missed him for those grueling 15 months. But, when he returned, Dean remembers how she cried and hugged him as if it was a miracle he came back. And it was.

He held onto the photo and didn’t let go for the rest of the flight.

Chapter Text

“Listen with your eyes for feelings.”

-Stephen Covey

November 7th, 2005

1200 hours

When they finally landed down in Afghanistan, Dean had never been more happy to see land. He was almost tempted to kiss the ground but Benny restrained him.

The first thing he noticed was the heat. It wasn’t humid. No, it was a dry heat thankfully. But it was hot. Some soldiers who had already deployed had scarfs and jackets on to protect from the sun. Mentally he made a note to get one so his skin wasn’t burnt to a crisp.

“Alright, ladies! All soldiers in the 54th platoon, line up!” A gruffy voice rang out. He looked to see Captain Bobby Singer. A smile grew on his face. Most of the time when Dean saw him, he would just walk up and greet the older man. Hell, the guy practically raised him. But now he was his commanding officer and he had to snap to attention when he saw him.

“We are heading over to Camp Kearny now. You will be working closely with 2 other platoons. The mission is to help stabilize and control the local area. And you idjits will not embarrass me, is that understood?” Bobby barked out, giving the stink eye to about half the soldiers.

“ Sir, yes sir!” They all yelled back to the satisfaction to Bobby. He nodded motioned to an equally gruffy black man, Rufus Turner, next to him. Dean knew him due to all of the holidays he was invited to.

“Sergeant Turner will lead you to the camp and get y’all situated.” Bobby paused as the men all went and followed Rufus. “Winchester! Over here, now!”

Dean looked a little confused before breaking out of the group and walking over to him. The first thing that happened was that Bobby hugged him, which Dean returned only mildly surprised.

“Nice to see you finally got your ass over here. How is everyone?” Dean could tell he was actually asking how Sam was. Bobby helped raise them both, so he knew how everything was between the two of them.

“He is.. Better. Going off to Stanford later tonight. Or, actually now.” The time difference was still definitely new to him. It was only noon here but back in California where he is going to be spending all of his time now, it was nearly midnight.

Bobby nodded and started to walk away, motioning for Dean to follow. “Good. Now it is time to meet the rest of your platoon. These are the men and women who are going to be your new family.”

They walked into the camp. It wasn’t so much as chaotic as it was busy. Everyone seemed to be doing something. Getting ready for patrols, returning from them, practicing handling their weapons. They all straightened up a little when they saw Bobby, including some of the Majors. Why Bobby wasn’t a Major, or better yet a Colonel, was a mystery to him.

Finally, the arrive at a large tent. Men were relaxing inside, playing poker or gathered around the depressingly small tv. Jo was there, talking to a red headed girl and laughing with her. Benny wasn’t there, most likely still with Rufus and the other new arrivals.

“Captain Singer, there you are! Tran here is putting 50 bucks on Javan Azadi beating Ferozi.” A black man yelled out. A small Asian kid next to him, presumably Tran, groaned slightly.

“It is fer-OH-zi, not fer- OZ-ei.” He corrected to the displeasure to the other guy. How they were understanding anything on the television is a mystery to him. It was in a foreign language that he couldn’t even guess what it was.

“Will y’all idjits shut up? I got someone to meet for you. This is Private Dean Winchester.” A couple of people murmured a hello and some waved. One man stood up, however, giving him a good stare down.

“Winchester? As in—”

“John Winchester, yeah. Did you know my dad?” Dean asked, excited to hear stories about his father. Bobby didn’t tell many, and all he had to go off was the ones in his father’s journal.

The man gave a husky laugh for a moment. Everyone else seemed to be weary of him, shifting slightly away as he walked closer. “Know him? Sure did, kid. God help us if you are anything like the ol’ bastard.”

Rage boiled up in him. What the hell did he mean like that? Old bastard? For a second he was about to go over and punch the guy square in the face before someone grabbed his arm.

“It ain’t worth it. He is the closest thing to a crazy old man we got.” Bobby muttered. But… who was he? Dean didn’t know him, and it didn’t seem like anyone wanted to tell him.

“Well, I gotta go. Turner is probably pissed I left him.” He said before walking off. Almost instantaneously Jo walked over and dragged him to the others. Dean complied, awkwardly standing among the others. Tran and the man he was betting against seemed to be invested in the game. There were some sitting among the tables playing poker or just chatting

“You are quite special, aren’t you? It was like Dumbledore introducing Harry Potter.” The red headed girl said, glancing him up and done as if inspecting him. Dean just raised a confused eyebrow, not entirely sure what that all meant.

“Oh, lighten up Charlie. Though I can’t lie, Captain Singer doesn’t usually introduce people personally, much less privates.” A smaller man said, walking up to the group of them. He was insanely tiny, with a happy go luck grin on his face.

“That is Garth Fitzgerald. He focuses on mainly helping the locals, who all seem to adore him for some reason. The girl making Harry Potter references was Charlie Bradbury, our tech specialist. The two men on the couches screaming at the tv is Victor Henriksen, an infantry soldier slash self-proclaimed sheriff, and Kevin Tran, our translator. The kid is a genius and they have him here on “advanced placement” which is a fancy termer for he is younger than all of us and smarter. The rest of the platoon is either out doing something or was on that plane with you. Welcome to becoming a Hunter.” Jo introduced each person. Each person gave a wave as the were introduced. Dean smiled slightly, liking it here already. Everyone seemed so at ease despite being out in a war zone.

He took a seat and tried to watch the game along with Tran and Henrikson, but found it impossible to follow along. After 15 minutes of trying to understand which team is which and general confusion, he finally looked over to the two of them for answers.“Why do you guys watch this in Afghani? Do you guys not have any shows in English?”

Tran just shrugged and stayed focused on the game. “First off, it is Farsi, not Afghani. That isn’t even a language. And we don’t. Satellite is a bit expensive and we want to save up for the Olympics and World Cup next year, not to mention the Super Bowl too. Bradbury was able to get us some of the local sports channels however through her technological genius.  Sports isn’t usually my thing, but it is a good distraction to everything else, not to mention I am always able to beat Henrikson in a bet.”

A scoff came from Henrikson in reply to that, clearly displeased at the fact he lost money to the young kid. “You have an unfair advantage, alright? You are able to understand what is going on in the game and know which teams are better.” He looked over to Dean, “Don’t bet with this kid alright? He is a fucking shark, I’ll tell you that.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head at the entire conversation. Bobby was right that this was a family dynamic for sure. That type of bickering was familiar to him since it was in every conversation he and Sam had. Everyone here seemed to be close to one another. He couldn’t help but wonder what they must be like in battle.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Bobby stormed in, not looking pleased one bit. “Where the hell is Ash? The Garrison’s hummer broke down again and no one can find a mechanic in this place.” Everyone just looked around at one another, Ash seeming to be nowhere in sight.

Loudly, Bobby groaned. He pointed at Dean and motioned for him to get up. “Dean, follow me. I know how good of a mechanic you are. When Ash is found, have him report to my office immediately. ” Weary glances were given all around. Poor Ash, who every the unlucky son of a bitch was. Dean knew what an angry Bobby was like and tried to avoid it as often as possible.

They walked out, Dean blinking a bit in the bright sunlight. “So, who is the Garrison exactly?”

“31st Platoon. Mainly Aviation, but they need the hummers on the occasions they don’t fly. We work with them a lot, so make a good impression. But I gotta admit, I don’t like to hang around them when I don’t have to.” Bobby warned, making Dean definitely not nervous in any way shape or form.

The hanger was pretty big. Apaches, Blackhawks, Birdies, Chinooks all were lined up. The Garrison was much different from the Hunters. Where they were more relaxed and calm, all the soldiers here were very uptight. Each seemed to be on a mission that if not completed meant the end of the world.

“Novak! I got you the mechanic you need.” Two different men looked over.

“Oh, goody! Fresh meat!” One said. He had a lollipop in his mouth and his light brown hair slicked back. The other one who looked over and sighed slightly, his startlingly blue eyes full of disappointment at the other’s remark.

For a moment, his and the mystery man’s eyes met. The were an enchanting deep blue color that he could admittedly stare at for hours. In that small, small moment that his eyes looked into the blue ones, something stirred in him he couldn’t explain. There was no word for it. It was like nothing he ever felt before except—

No. It wasn’t that feeling. No way in freakin’ hell.

The man talked, breaking Dean from his thoughts. “Excuse my second lieutenant. He doesn’t know many manners.” He said, making the second lieutenant laugh.

“I gotta go. Make sure to return my soldier by the end of the day, got it?” Bobby commanded. The dark haired Novak nodded while the other smirked

“Thank you for coming out Mr..” The man stuck his hand out which Dean promptly took.

“Winchester. Private Dean Winchester.” There was something about those blue eyes that he couldn’t stop looking at. The handshake was stronger than he thought it would be, which surprised him a little.

“I’m Lieutenant Castiel Novak. The man next to me is Gabriel Novak.” Gabriel gave a little wave, the smirk still on his face. They both were named Novak? Either they are related or that is one of the strangest coincidences he has ever heard. And Gabriel most definitely did not act as if Lieutenant Novak was his superior.

Gabriel somehow was able to pick up on the confusion and quickly offered an explanation. “Cassie here is my little brother, but he was an overachiever and got promoted before me.” Lieutenant Novak seemed almost… embarrassed by his big brother, his face turning a slight shade of red. It made him laugh slightly.

“Gabriel, Balthazar, and Anna are taking off in a few minutes, I need you to go take care of that while I take Private Winchester to the Hummers.” Gabriel groaned loudly but complied, walking off to wherever he was meant to be.

“I’ll take you to the cars, follow me.” He said in a very calm voice and walked away. Dean followed, not being able to help himself from staring at all of the attack helicopters. That was always one job he knew he would never take. No way was he going to be a pilot in his life. How all of these people are able to do it is beyond him.

The hummers were in a secluded area of the hanger. There was over a dozen of them, but the one that needed repairs was painfully obvious. The coat was scratched, dented and beaten up.  The fuel cap was somehow missing, and Dean could tell from a glance there was something wrong with the suspension. And he hasn’t even popped open the hood yet.

“What the actual hell happened to this thing?” He muttered with wide eyes. Hummers were tough cars, able to drive through a war zone safely.

“Private Balthazar Roché.” Lieutenant Novak responded as if that was answer enough.

With a slight sigh, Dean opened the hood of the trunk to see the damage was just as bad as the outside. It would take him so much longer than until the end of the day to fix this.

“When should the car be operational again?” Lieutenant Novak asked, peering at the engine like it was normal to see the catalytic converters nearly popped out of place.

“Better question is how this thing is still on four wheels,” Dean muttered, not entirely sure where to start. It was almost overwhelming.

Lieutenant Novak nodded slowly, not seeming surprised. Dean began to get to work on the engine, knowing the task would most likely take the rest of the day and some. A set of tools and a creeper were already there so it was easy to just get on the creeper and get to work.

When Dean slid back out from underneath the car to grab a wrench, Lieutenant Novak was standing there looking at him.

He didn’t think anything of it. Maybe he just wanted to check in on how he was doing his work and would then leave. That was a normal thing for a lieutenant to do, right?

But when Dean slid back out to grab a different tool, he was still standing there looking at him. Finally, he realized he needed to address the situation.

“Can I help you, Lieutenant?” He asked, pausing in his work. Lieutenant Novak seemed almost startled by this as if he didn’t expect Dean to notice him. He cleared his throat, looking away for a half second before returning his gaze back to Dean.

“Uh, no. Just watching over you. I’m sorry to disturb your work, Private.” Dean chuckled for a bit, finding it kinda amusing how this random man he just met wanted to watch over him.

“Well, alright then. And don’t call me Private or something like that. My name is Dean.” It was a little taboo to be this informal with someone, especially a superior, but he just felt the need to. Referring to everyone by their rank made it much more painfully obvious on how he was deployed.

“Refer to me as Castiel then.” Lieutenant Novak—Castiel—said. Something about that brought a slight smile to his face.

Dean slid back underneath the car to continue working on it. It was relaxing to work on a car and not worry about anyone. The only thing to worry about was the car.

But Castiel was still standing out there, just watching him work.

“So, um… how is it working with your brother?” He called out, attempting to make conversation so the poor guy wasn’t just sitting there awkwardly.

“It is.. vexing at times. But I do care about him so it is good.” Castiel responded. There couldn’t be a better way for Dean to explain his relationship with his brother. It was sometimes hard to remember that Sam was a 6’4” moose of a man and not the little brother he cared for all those years whenever Dad was gone doing whatever he did.

There was a moment of silence as Dean focused on the car and Castiel did whatever he was doing.

“How is your brother?”

That took him by surprise. How the hell did he know he had a brother? Dean didn’t recall mentioning anything about Sam or about his personal life. He rolled out from underneath the car and gave the blue eyed and dark haired man a perplexed look.

“How did you know I had a brother?” Almost instantaneously he tensed up, standing up to face him.  Castiel cocked his head to the side in an innocent and admittedly slightly adorable way.

“Earlier, when Gabriel introduced himself as my older brother, you got this look on your face of familiarity that only an older sibling would have. So I simply deduced that you most likely had a smaller sibling.” He said this in such a monotone and matter of fact way that it simply blew him away. All that by a look that Dean had.

A nervous laugh escaped his mouth. “That… is impressive. But how did you know it was a brother and not a sister?” Dean wiped the grease off his hands. It was everywhere at this point and he clearly ruined the shirt he was wearing. At least it was cooling down with the sun dipping lower and lower. It wasn’t time for him to return but it was clear that he had only a few hours left in the day left.

“I guessed.” Something scarily similar to a smirk formed on Castiel’s face.

Despite knowing him for only about an hour tops, it wasn’t hard to tell he wasn’t a man that made jokes a lot. Hell, he was the textbook case of an army officer. But seeing his loosen up like this was pleasing. It brought a smile to his own face.

___________________________

They continued to this for the rest of the day. Dean fixed the car, Castiel stood around and talked with him. They talked about just about everything, mainly him being new to the Army and how he was adjusting. He didn’t notice the sun setting until Castiel nudged his ankles for him to get out from underneath the car.

Dean slid out from underneath the car and looked over at the horizon. Damn, it was beautiful. He couldn’t deny that this country was breathtaking. He just stared at the rich red and purple colors painting the sky in silence, taking it in.

“Private Win—uh, I mean, Dean, is everything alright?” He heard Castiel say to him, breaking his gaze from the sunset. An embarrassed look came over him when he realized that he was staring for such a long time at a sunset.

“Sorry, Cas. Just got distracted by the view.” Castiel smiled a smile that brought warmth to Dean’s heart. The feelings that teased him when they first meet came back.

What is with you, Winchester? Why are you feeling… things… for him?? He mentally chided himself, trying for focus on anything but that smile. But his eyes settled on Castiel’s damn eyes, which wasn’t much of an improvement.

“I understand. When I first came here, I couldn’t stop staring at the views whenever we went flying. My fellow soldiers teased me at excessive lengths for it, particularly Balthazar. But they don’t seem to understand how beautiful this country is. Even the war zone struck parts have a certain beauty to it if you know where to look.” He said with a far off look in his eyes as if he was reminiscing about something. Everything Castiel was saying was right, there was no denying that.

They were quiet for a moment as they both thought about what he said. Dean’s gaze returned to the fading sunset, now turning more purple and blue rather than orange and red.

He could feel Castiel’s gaze on him. It was enough to make him turn and look at him back with a confused look.

“What is it? Do I have something on my face.” Castiel simply nodded a yes, not saying a word. Dean cursed slightly and wiped his face, grease appearing on his sleeve.

“Did I get it all?” He asked, rubbing his face with his sleeve. This seemed to not satisfy Castiel, who gave him an exasperated look.

“Here, just let me do it.” Castiel sighed as he reached out to teach Dean’s face. He froze, not sure what entirely to do. He could feel his face burning up with a blush at the touch Castiel’s rough hand.

Unfortunately, his heart didn’t stop racing as Castiel drew his hand away slowly. “There, I got it,” Castiel said with a sure and almost slightly proud voice.

Dean just looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to desperately regain his composure. He didn’t. “Uh, thanks..” He said a little quieter than normal.

Castiel didn’t say anything, just nodding and looking away.

“I’m going to go. Hopefully, I will be back. Actually, no, that would be a bad thing since that means your hummer breaks again and our mechanic is missing. Not because I disliked talking with you or anything! It is just… uh…” He was rambling. It was a trainwreck and it was only getting worse, Dean internally facepalmed himself. Way to go. Definitely made a good impression there.

Castiel didn’t seem to mind this, just nodding and smiling. “It was nice meeting you too Dean. I hope to see you soon.”

A breath of relief was released that he didn’t know he was holding in. He began to walk away, turning to wave goodbye.

The night air was cold, a stark contrast to earlier that day. Yet, Dean didn’t feel cold at all. His breath fogged in the dark air but there was a warmth in his chest to match his warm smile.

Wonder what it could be.

___________________________

“Is that Lieutenant Novak smiling?” A blonde haired soldier asked from afar. He just watched the entire scene between the unknown private and the strict Lieutenant unfold with great confusion.

The man he was talking to, the other Lieutenant Novak, nodded. “It would appear so. We should take a picture. Last longer.” He popped the lollipop out of his mouth with a loud pop, “I do admit it is a rare sight, but why is so worrying again?”

The soldier scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes with enough sass to put a teenage girl to shame. “It isn’t worrying, just… new. Who is the scubby private he was talking to anyways?” His British accent laced the last question with disdain and contempt.

“Calm down, Bal. Just some private in the hunters. I know, strange, but I doubt anything will come of it. He was just fixing the hummer.” Lieutenant Novak seemed more focused on his lollipop then the situation at hand.

A sigh was the only response. “Something tells me that isn’t the case.”

Chapter Text

“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life.”

 -Richard Bach

November 23rd, 2006

1134 hours

Thanksgiving rolled around before he even realized. When he woke up at 6 am to do P.T, everyone seemed more joyous than usually. Bobby came in and said there was no P.T or missions and to just take the day off. Thanks to some charity, turkey and pies have been shipped over and are being served later. Bradbury even managed to get Charlie Brown on the television. Everyone gathered around with beers to watch it, trying to make the most of thanksgiving away from their families. It wasn’t unusually to see someone walk off to call a loved one or skype them.

He hasn’t been able to get a hold of Sam though. According to a text he got before he awake, Sam was with his new girlfriend Jessica for thanksgiving and therefore couldn’t call. That stung a lot more than he would have liked to admit. When they were kids, Dean would always make sure to get a turkey for thanksgiving, even if it was only from KFC.

“Dean, put the beer down and head over to the Garrison,” Bobby called from his spot on the old couch. It was a tiny and honestly pitiful couch, only being able to fit 4 at the most. Despite all the soldiers scrunched up to watch the old cartoon, Bobby was somehow able to snag the best seat in the house. Probably because he was their commanding officer.

An eyebrow was raised at the sudden request. “Uh, why? And what for?”

“Because I am expecting a shipment of M193 ammunition and someone needs to confirm arrived. The garrison was escorting both them and the war dog who sold them to us. Go and look for Crowley.” With a sigh, Dean set down the beer and left. So much for getting the day off.

He hasn’t been back to the hanger since helping fix the Hummer. The hummer did break down again—rumor has it that one of the soldiers (Gabriel Novak) accidently backed it up into an attack helicopter—but Ash was found this time and sent to fix it instead of him. It was hard to ignore the disappointment in his heart at this time, but Dean just shoved it back and tried to forget about it.

Keyword: tried.

Why the hell his mind kept wandering back to the blue eyed lieutenant was a mystery to him. Why did he care so much that he didn’t get to go fix the hummer? He didn’t. Not a bit. Whatever this feeling that bubbled up in his chest when he thought about the smile Castiel gave him wasn’t what he thought it was.

It wasn’t.

So what, he got excited every time Castiel came by and how the lieutenant always made a point of waving to him specifically. That didn’t mean anything. They haven’t even actually talked since the time they first met, only occasionally glances, nods, or waves when they see each on missions or things like that. That is what normal soldiers do when they see each other.

Dean was still thinking about this when he arrived at the hangar but was snapped out of it by all of the chaoticness. The Garrison for some reason didn’t get the “thanksgiving break” memo. People were running around, arguing with other people. It was impossible to take 2 steps without nearly running into someone. The hangar was not just full of soldiers, but of what looked to be civilians too.

Unsurely, he began to walk through the crowd in look for either Crowley or Castiel, asking occasionally. Either he got no answer, or the person didn’t know where they were. After 15 minutes of this, he was getting rather feed up.

“Private Winchester! Nice of you to drop by the shit show going on here.” An unfamiliar voice rang out. Dean turned to become face to face with a blonde and British sounding soldier. Next to him was a small redhead girl with a shy and friendly smile.

Many questions popped into his head. Who were they? How did they know who he was? Why did the blonde one resembling Gordon Ramsay have a British accent?

Dean didn’t ask any of these questions. “Uh.. hi. Do you happen to know where Ca—Lieutenant Novak or a man named Crowley might be?” He had to catch himself from calling Castiel by his first name. It might look a little strange for some random private not even in their platoon calling their commanding officer by their first name.

“Ah yes, that is why you are here, isn’t it. The two of them are having a lovely chat over yonder. Good luck.” The wannabe Ramsay said with an unchartable amount of sass. He was pointing to where to two men were on the other side of the hanger. Dean gave a curt nod before walking away, feeling their eyes still bore into him.

Castiel and Crowley, a short man looking very out of place in his expensive suit, were not having a lovely chat. There was a lot of yelling, mainly from Castiel.

“One of my soldier’s could have died!” He yelled straight into the dark haired man’s face. Crowley seemed entirely unfazed by this as if it wasn’t his concern.

“Well, your soldiers might have been better off if they did a better job of protecting the cargo! This is a 500 thousand dollar contract that, last time I checked, you desperately needed. If you did a better job here, then maybe the Taliban wouldn’t have attacked us!” Crowley was getting very Castiel, who dwarfed the tailored man by a few inches.

“ Do a better job? My soldiers are much better than your sorry—” Castiel finally noticed Dean standing there and cleared his throat, backing away from Crowley. “Private Winchester.What brings you here?”

Dean looked surprised that they finally noticed him here. Clearing his throat, he looked to Crowley to convey his message.“I’m here to check in on the shipment of M193 ammunition Captain Singer ordered.” A smile grew on Crowley’s face at the mention of actually business.

“Ah, yes! You must be one of the Hunters, yes? I will happily take you to the ammunition you ordered. It is nice to have someone appreciate the hard work I do.” Crowley smirked proudly and walked off, waving with his hand for Dean to follow him. However, he hung back to talk to Cas.

“Uh, what was that about?” Castiel was clearly still upset, his hands clenched into tight fists. Angry blue eyes met his, which quite honestly sent chills down his back.

“That is Crowley, CEO of Reaper’s Weapons. He specializes in making deals the Pentagon can’t refuse on weapons that come from God knows where. Why we even do business with him is absurd.” The words were laced with more hatred than he could even imagine. Dean shook his head, not wanting to say the answer that was forming in his mind. They were at war. And war meant doing things that no one liked.

“Come on, pretty boy! I don’t have all day. There are other shipments to deliver, wars to fund.” Crowley called from the other side of the hanger. He was beginning to understand Castiel’s hatred for him.

“I’ll talk to you later, hopefully. Happy thanksgiving.” The private said quickly before going off to talk to the short, grumpy man waiting for him next to a giant pile of crates.

“10,000 rounds of M193 ammunition, perfect for the M16 assault rifle.” Crowley proudly displayed the pile of crates that all seemed to be full of ammo. Dean just stared in awe. That much ammunition, for a security base in Afghanistan? He didn’t want to think about what was being shipped off to Iraq.

“How much did this all cost?” He muttered to himself, opening a crate to find that it was indeed filled with shiny M193 ammo. Crowley chuckled, walking over to him with his hands behind his back.

“Those detail I can’t disclose, love, but the average soldier cost about $17,500. So you can imagine this wasn’t cheap. God Bless Dick Cheney and his love of war.” He let out a chuckle as if it was funny that the United States was engaged in one of the most expensive war ever. As if it was funny that 3,700 Iraqi citizens in a single month. A sickening feeling fills his stomach and Dean quickly closes the crate lid.

This doesn’t escape Crowley’s notice. The man in the black suit snapped his fingers and, almost magically, two men with an M16 walked over and handed it to him. “Not satisfied? Perhaps you would like to test out the product, see where all that money went. The reason I travel with all of my contracts, unlike most other contractors, is to make sure everything arrives safe and well taken care of so that our brave soldiers have the best quality equipment.”

That definitely caught Dean’s attention, who looked in shock at what Crowley was suggesting. Not the clearly rehearsed bit about quality control, but the part where he was asking Dean to fire an M16 in the hanger. “No! No, there is no need. Everything’s fine, you don’t have to go firing a gun in a hangar full of soldiers who would have you gutted in an instant. ” It isn’t like the Garrison needed an excuse to beat the shit out of Crowley. And while he would pay good money to see that, it would also mean that Dean would be in a shit load of trouble.

“There is a reason I’m so successful, Private. I made myself a king because of this hell. The government doesn’t like me, and I don’t really like them either. But they need to fight evil and what not. I’m the yang to their yin, if you would excuse my clicheness. These attack helicopters? They come from me. Those guns that you probably fired this morning to practice? Also, come from me. Like it or not, I practically own you. I didn’t become that way by listening to men like you or being scared of men like Lieutenant Novak. ” Crowley raised his gun, only to have Dean quickly lower it.

“I’m warning you, Crowley. You fire that gun, and we both end up surrounded by a shit load of soldiers trying to beat our asses to a pulp.” Dean warned. It was a bit puzzling on why this man was so insistent on firing this gun. Crowley scoffed and pulled the gun free, loading it up with some ammo. He could see other soldiers start to take notice and come closer.

“Then I suggest you get ready for a fight, dearie.” The self-proclaimed king of hell said, raising the gun to fire at some crates on the other side of the room. And while Dean may not have been quick enough to snag the weapon, the other soldiers took no time in tackling both him and Dean to the ground.

________________________

“ You are going to explain how the hell you managed to get tackled and dragged out of the hanger when you were simply checking in on a shipment of fucking ammunition or I will make Saddam Hussein look like an angel of mercy after I am done with you!”

Bobby was not pleased to have Dean sitting across from him with a black eye that was given to him courtesy of the Garrison. Despite being innocent in the whole matter, Dean’s first reaction to being tackled is to fight back. It took Castiel intervening to stop the brawl he was in. It turns out that some of Crowley’s men joined in the fight, and it did not look good for the case of Dean’s innocence.

As he was being dragged out two soldiers with the names of Uriel and Zachariah, he couldn’t help but notice how Crowley was fine in all of this. The only ones hurt were a few soldiers and some of Crowley’s men.Crowley was somehow being unscathed in all of this, though his expensive suit looked ruined. It made Dean wish he punched him instead of whoever he did in the fight.

“Crowley wanted to show how some of the ammunition of ‘high quality’ and tried to fire a gun inside the fucking hanger. And I got tackled as an accomplice, which I am not. Some of Crowley’s demon of men joined in and it got out of hand. Lieutenant Novak stepped in and tried to resolve the issue, though the assholes—I mean, soldiers still wanted to drag me out. It was all stubby little excuse for a businessman’s fault!” Dean explained, his arms crossed over his chest. It wasn’t fair on how he was the one being chewed out when it was all this was Crowley’s fault.

Bobby sighed, sitting back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. “A 13.6 million dollar attack helicopter was damaged, son! Do you know how difficult it is going to be to get that fixed? Not to mention expensive. Oh, and I have to worry about the kevlar shipment that got ruined and get reordered. Do you understand how much you just cost the army?” Something about that seemed off to him. How did an Apache and cargo get damaged in a brawl? It wasn’t that crazy and no one had weapons. So how is it that the stuff that Crowley went on and on about how he was going to make sure was well-taken care off got ruined?

Crowley’s words wandered back into his mind. These attack helicopters? They come from me. Those guns that you probably fired this morning to practice? Also, come from me. Like it or not, I practically own you.

If something got ruined, in a fight perhaps, then the army would have to reorder them. And who do they buy from? Reaper’s Weapons. The con used him so that they could get more money from the ruined equipment. That was why he wanted to fire the gun so badly. Because it would trigger a fight where his men could break shit without being suspicious.

This realization was quickly followed by rage. He got get in so much trouble, possibly put on probation, all so that little bug could make an extra buck. It took all of his self-control not to get up and find Crowley so that he could beat him.

“Did you hear me? You are withheld from any and all missions for the next two weeks, not to mention you are on latrine duty. Also, you are going to be on your best behavior, or I will not be so forgiving. Consider yourself lucky it is Thanksgiving.” Bobby stated before motioning with a hand for Dean to leave before he can say anything to piss him off. Dean just got up and saluted before leaving and counted his blessings. The last thing he needed was Bobby giving him hell.

His peace didn’t last, however. As soon as he stepped out of the office, he was bombarded by the rest of his platoon.

“The great hero returns! Tell us, how badly did Bobby rile you?” Jo asking while handing him a much-needed beer.

“Well, I am not going on any missions and have to clean the bathrooms until further notice. But I am lucky.” A couple of guys clapped him on the back, making it clear how much they liked that he got into a fight. Whether they didn’t like the Garrison or Crowley wasn’t clear.

“I heard the guy Dean punched has a broken nose.”

“It was Hester, wasn’t? Bitch deserves it.”

“No, it was Raphael! Or wait, maybe Michael?”

“Apparently 3 guys are in the infirmary, all of them from Garrison, including Samadrial.”

“Poor kid. He can barely hold his own, he is so new.”

“Novak took out a few guys too.”

“I’m just happy someone got to punch Zachariah. That asshole was the one who nearly stranded me up in Kunduz.”

Everyone began to talk about what rumor they heard, or how they were happy so-and-so got hit. From what Dean was hearing, half of it was just lies and the other half exaggeration. The whole fight was folklore and he was in the center of it.

By the time that dinner rolled around, he was lucky enough that the rumors died down and everyone began to focus on the food that was being served. They headed over to the cafeteria and got in line, making him feel like he was in high school all over again.

But he couldn’t complain once he sat down to eat with everyone. Even though the food was not top of the line (that didn’t stop him from eating 3 slices of pumpkin pie, the other two having been stolen from Bradbury and Benny) it still seemed nice to be able to laugh and eat with everyone. Castiel even walked over to say hello and how he was sorry for went on at the hangar earlier. Naturally, Dean said it was fine, though he had to kick Tran in the shin to stop him from asking about how many men he punched in the fight.  Bobby even got up and gave a speech, though it was short.

“I just have to say, I’m thankful for a lot in my life. But you idjits are at the top of the list.” That was enough to bring tears to Bradbury’s eyes and a cheer from everyone.

________________________

December 7th, 2006

0832 hours

Dean made a mental note not to piss off Bobby again.

His two weeks probation was finally up and it was time to go on a mission again. But what he forgot was that the mission was going to be chosen by Bobby.

You see, the one thing Dean didn’t know about Afghanistan was how cold it got in the winter. There was snow everywhere. He wasn’t actually prepared whatsoever, and all of his attempts to try and hide in his gear failed.

Tran, the little bastard, was finding this hilarious. He was accompanying him, along with Bobby, Henrikson, and Jo to a small village to help them after getting attacked last week. The Garrison is also tagging along, as rumor has it that Castiel has grounded a lot of them from flying and has them going on missions like this instead.

“How far is this village?” Dean asked, not wanting to get out of the hummer and into the cold air. Bobby was the driver, and all he did was give a shrug.

“Jawad said it should be about an hour drive from the base, so we should be there soon.” Tran said. Henrikson, who was in the passenger's seat, turned around quickly.

“Who is Jawad? I’ve never heard of him.” Tran seemed a bit uncomfortable at this question, looking to his thumbs.

Bradbury nudged him to get an answer and kept on doing so until Tran yielded. “He is... an 11-year-old boy from the village who has been my informant. No one else speaks English there, so he use to be the translator until I came along. Nonetheless, I kept in touch with him and when I heard about the attack, I had to go to Captain Singer about it.” Groans filled the car, along with a few glares about Bobby.

“So, we are hanging our entire mission on the word of an 11-year-old kid?” Dean exclaimed in disbelief. It was bad enough that he was out in the cold, but finding out that the United States army gets its intel from a kid in some remote village was just adding salt to the wound.

“Yes, now shut up about it, you babies. Jawad is a good kid, I use to work with him. He has been helping us since he was 9 years old, so if I hear another bad word out of the rest of you I will personally slap you all the way the Christmas.” This warning from Bobby was enough to get everyone else to quiet down until they arrived at the village, which was only a few minutes away.

Jawad wasn’t lying, however. The village was a mess. One of the buildings was in ruins and the well seemed to be blown up. Lots of people were curled up in small buildings, trying to hide from the cold. When they saw the soldiers pull up in the hummer, many of them ran up yelling. One small kid began to walk forward, motioning for them to back up.

“ Khosh amadid. ” The kid said, placing a hand over his heart and giving a bow. Tran did the same before speaking rapidly in a foreign language.

He couldn’t help but feel the villagers staring at him. Tran spent a very long time explaining how they needed to act when they are in the village. Men and women must not make eye contact, do act condescending or like you are questioning their honor, use your right hand when doing handing this of importance. It was all very tricky and he didn’t want to end up ruining things. Jo even wore her scarf in a manner so that it covered her hair and such.

The Garrison arrived after them, and out came Castiel, the younger Novak, Roche, Uriel, and the redhead he met two weeks ago. They walked over and joined the group, who was still waiting for Jawad to finish his conversation with Tran.

“How are things?” Castiel asked Dean, talking quietly as to not to disturb the two. Tran and Jawad were laughing now like they were exchanging jokes.

“Good. Though I don’t know why they have to talk for so long.” He muttered, pulling his collar higher up to try and cover more skin.

Castiel took off his scarf and handed it to him without a word.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Dean asked, pushing the offered scarf away. Castiel seemed unfazed by the fact that he just took his scarf off in 31.2 degrees Fahrenheit. The cold didn’t seem to affect him, unlike Dean.

“You are cold, Dean. Just accept the shemagh.” He stated matter of factly, once again offering the scarf.

Dean couldn’t deny how cold he was and how much he wanted the scarf or shemagh, so he gave in and accepted the scarf. It was a beautiful scarf, blue and white cross hatch with a golden highlight going through it.

“Thanks for your shema- shemo- your scarf.” He stuttered out, not being able to pronounce the foreign words which was much to Castiel’s amusement. The lieutenant had a smile on his face and seemed to be doing a bad job of trying not to laugh.

But before Dean could retaliate, Tran called everyone over. “The herd that they take care of has been trapped in the village and can’t make it to the fields because of fear of bandits and the Taliban. They ask for an escort, along with some help with rebuilding the well and restocking defenses.” Bobby nodded at this and started dividing people up. Castiel allowed him to have command over his soldiers due to Bobby being the more senior officer and being that best at organizing everyone. The captain even managed to get Gabriel Novak to focus by giving him one of the scariest lectures of his life.

Dean was put in the well team, along with Henrikson, Castiel, and Anna, who was the redhead he didn’t know. They managed to reassemble it in only an hour or two. Anna was actually amazingly nice. Apparently, she had known Castiel since he was a kid, but he wasn’t able to coax any child hood stories out of her. She was a sweet girl who wanted to travel the world, but a legacy of a father forced her into the military. That sounded familiar to him.

When everyone was taking a break, they didn’t notice a small 5-year-old boy creep towards the hummer. A glimmer of curiosity shown in his eyes as he reached out to touch the wheel, which was almost as big as him. None of the other kids approached the soldiers, much less the vehicles. Hell, the adults didn’t even like to go near it. But that didn’t seem to faze this kid. There was a bravery to him that no one else really had. Placing two careful hands on the wheel, the boy began to climb it in hopes of getting to the top. Dean looked away from his conversation to see this and walked over.

“Whatcha doin’ there, buddy?” He asked, taking a knee to be eye level with the boy. The kid was a good climber, nearly on top of the hood by now. Dean must have startled him because the kid instantly lets go and fell to the ground. The curiosity in his eyes was soon replaced by fear. Guilt quickly washed over Dean. He didn’t want to scare the kid.

“Wait, wait! I am not going to hurt you, little guy. I just wanted to check out what you were doing.” It was clear the kid was not understanding a word that was coming out of Dean’s mouth. Jawad was the only one who spoke English in this village

Dean pointed to himself. “Dean.”

It took a moment for the kid to understand, but when he did the fear was replaced with glee. The kid pointed to himself the same way Dean did. “Roshan.”

Dean spent the rest of his break showing Roshan his gear, the hummer, and other things. It took a while for Roshan to warm up to him, but once he did he was a funny and curious kid. Though, he was a bit of a handful at times, with Dean having to grab him so he didn’t fall into the half-built well.

“ Tekrar! ” Roshan laughed out, which Dean was started to understand as to mean again. Roshan loved it when Dean would pick him up and set him his shoulders, where he would then guide where Dean should go. After a while, Dean would set him down only to hear the words ‘ tekrar!’ over and over again. This went on for half an hour, which Dean didn’t really mind. Roshan was a ton of fun, even if all of the other villager kids were too shy to go anywhere near them. But soon, Roshan’s mother came out to get him and dean had to return to working on the well and other rubble to clear up.

“ Mamnoon, Dean! Bedrood!” Roshan yelled out with a wave as he ran back to his mom. Dean returned the wave before getting back to work. No one seemed to question who that kid was, though he did get a few strange glances. But Dean honestly couldn’t give less of a shit.

By the end of the day, the village was much different from what it looked like when he arrived. The rubble was cleared away, the well rebuilt, defenses along the perimeter of the village installed. The villagers were thankful enough to give gifts of goat, artwork, and more.

“ Dean! Dean! Befarmaid, refigh.” Roshan had returned and was offering something to him. It was a small wooden carving, not bigger than his fore finger. It wasn’t painted or anything and looked like it was made a while ago. It was of a small soldier saluting. There wasn’t much detail to the carving, the soldier not even having a face.

There wasn’t much time for a goodbye since Bobby was urging everyone to go because the mountain pass was blocked with snow and they would have to take another way home. Dean accepted the gift and got on one knee to hug Roshan goodbye.

“I’ll be back, I promise.” He said, meaning every word he said. Roshan nodded, not needing to know English to know what he said.

________________________

The ride back was quiet, with everyone tired from a day’s work. It was rare to go on these assistance missions, but it felt good after completing one as Bobby said.

Dean stayed focus on what Roshan gave him. Roshan must have seen American soldiers all of his life, which was why he wasn’t afraid of the hummer like the other kids. He held it tight in his hand before placing it in the pocket with the photo Sam gave him. It was where he kept the things that reminded him what he was fighting for.

“Damn, I need a beer when I get back.” Henrikson sighed loudly, prompting a laugh from everyone else.

“Don’t we all? Remind me to get Bradbury to put a good movie on. We deserve it. Any requests?” Bobby asked from the driver’s seat.

But before anyone could say what they wanted to watch, the hummer exploded.

Chapter Text

“It is always easier to requite an injury than a service: gratitude is a burden, but revenge is found to pay.” -Tacitus

December 7nd, 2006
0632 hours

It all happened so fast.

He didn’t even have time to register the pain. There wasn’t any, really. He just felt himself go flying against the wall. Blackness washed over him as a sharp pain went through his shoulder.

When he came to, he was being carried out of the Hummer. The sun was bright and hurt his eyes. The ringing that they showed in the movies was real, only it didn’t fade away as time passed. The person hauling him out (who was probably Benny, but he couldn’t get a god look) kept yelling something, but it was only drowned out.

His shoulder hurt like a bitch. Dean tried to touch it with his hand but found them not responding. Benny was still yelling at him, slapping him to keep him awake. Even with his limited vision, it was hard not to see the chaos going on.

Everything then went black, and then stayed black.

________________________

December 9th, 2006
1342 hours

He woke up to a doctor talking to him.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t hear a word the doc said. His ears still rang, but it wasn’t as bad as earlier. His shoulder was a different story, however.

The pain from earlier didn’t disappear. It washed over his in waves, each time just as bad as the last. In 5th grade, he broke his arm and cried for two hours. This put that pain to shame.

The doctor started doing something to his arm. Whatever it was, it hurt like a son of a bitch. But the minute Dean started to protest, they put him under

________________________

December 10th, 2006
0433 hours

This time, when he opened his eyes, instead of a doctor being next to him, it was Bradbury. She was sitting cross-legged in a chair with her headphones in and read a book. It looked like she hasn’t gotten much sleep based on the bags underneath her eyes.

Dean opened his mouth to ask what she was doing here, but it came out as a “Ughhh…”

Her head snapped up at the sound of him talking, though how she can hear with her headphones in is a mystery.

“Dean! You’re awake!! Oh my god, we were all so worried about you! How is your shoulder? Is anything blurry? Do your ears still ring? How many fingers am I holding up?” Her excitement made him jump. It was like she had all of the caffeine in the world.

He raised his arm to try and get her to calm down a little bit. Instead of doing that, however, he winced in pain as a sharp pain rippled through him.

Bradbury quickly lowered his arm. “Don’t do that! A piece of shrapnel tore through your shoulder. You are going to be out of commission for a while.”

He glanced down at his shoulder to see the white binding around it. Flashes of the explosion and something hitting him came back, but it was still a blur. “What time is it? Is everyone ok?”

“4 am. And yeah, everyone got out just fine. You should thank the man who dragged you out. He practically saved your life.” A soft smile crept up on her lips as if she had more to say about the entire thing.

A sigh was let out. He didn’t realize it, but he was actually really worried about everyone else in the hummer. Not knowing what happened… well, it hurt more than his shoulder. There was something sweet about Bradbury staying up all night to make sure he was alright. Despite him only knowing her for a month, she was like a sister to him.

“Get some sleep, Bradbury. I don’t want to know how long you have been in here.”

“Oh, not that long! The hunters are all taking shifts to watch over you. Turn—You know what? I’ll tell you later. You should get some sleep too.” That was… odd to say the least. Despite how much he wanted to ask what that was about, sleep was creeping up on him.

“Night, Bradbury.” He said quietly. But she was already asleep in the chair next to him.

________________________

December 16th, 2006
1456 hours

It was the day that he was finally being released from the infirmary. After lots and lots and lots of arguments with doctors that he was perfectly fine, they are letting him stop bed rest to slowly integrate back into work. He didn’t need to head home because of the injury, but the docs say that he will need to take it easy for a bit.

“Well, I’ll be damned. You can still walk.” Benny teased, getting an exasperated look from the doctor next to him.Dean let out a raspy laugh in response.

“Wait until I can kick your ass again.” He muttered, pushing himself up to sit on the side of the bed. The dull ache was replaced with fire, but Dean bit the inside of his cheek and tried to hide the pain. His doctor gave him a knowing look as he checked his vitals.

The doctor, who was named Solace, was too good at his job in Dean’s opinion. Somehow, he always knew whenever Dean was lying about the pain in his shoulder. The doc wasn’t too big on the idea of letting him leave early, but after a very long debate, he relented.

“Your blood pressure is good and it seems that there is no risk for infection. As long as you take it easy and don’t reopen your wound, you should be just fine.” Dr. Solace said as he wrote down something on his clipboard. A shorter man with shaggy black hair dressed in equally black scrubs came sprinting in the door. “We got a problem in room 23.”

Dr. Solace calmly set down the clipboard. “I’ll be back in a short while. Change into your clothes while I am gone but don’t leave.” He turned to the emo nurse with a smug look. “And you owe me 20 bucks.”

“Shut up, Solace and get your ass to room 23 before I drag you there.” Emo nurse responded with contempt. Dr. Solace didn’t wipe the smug grin off his face as he strolled out of the room.

Benny took a sit across from him. While he wasn’t in the infirmary, he didn’t look too good. It seemed like he aged twenty years. The bags underneath his eyes seemed big enough to hide stuff in. “You are one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?”

Dean couldn’t help himself from scoffing. He didn’t feel lucky. It has been 9 days that he has been stuck in this stupid hospital room with people refusing to tell him anything other then he was lucky.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. You know you are. IEDs usually kill people. You didn’t lose any limbs or friends. Everyone got out alive and ok. Hell, the IED didn’t even go off properly.” The more Benny talked, the more it made sense. As much as he hated to admit it, his old friend was right.

“Alright, fine. I’ll admit I got a little lucky. Now, will you shut up about it? I would like to know about how platoon is doing. How is everyone? Anyone miss me?” He couldn’t wait to get out of here and back to everyone else. But Dean’s excitement was only met with sadness from Benny.

“It.. has been rough, I won’t lie. All the hunters miss you and Captain Singer—”

“Bobby? Where is Bobby? Bradbury said everyone was ok!” Dean tried to get up, but the pain in his shoulder kept him sitting. It didn’t stop him from glaring bloody murder at Benny.

Benny groaned, realizing his slip-up. “Bobby is ok! He is just… He got sent back home because he is in a wheelchair now. The IED exploded right under the steering wheel, causing his legs to shatter. They aren’t sure when he is going to be back, but it should be soon.”

The shock hit him like a freight train. That just couldn’t be true. “Why the hell did nobody tell me?” His anger was swelling up in him. For some reason, the fact that everyone hides this from him hurt him way more than he expected it to. He should’ve guessed that someone was going to get hurt in the explosion, but he didn’t actually expect it to happen.

Benny’s jaw tightened, looking as if“Because you needed to recover! That is why! Captain Singer insisted that no one tell you. We all knew that if you knew he was in a wheelchair that you would refuse to rest.” Benny got up and placed a hand on Dean’s good shoulder, trying to get him to calm down.

“I know he practically raised you. And I am sorry, I truly am.” Dean let out a sigh and look to the ground. He knew that Bobby was a tough man and he would be able to handle it better than anyone, but that didn’t make it feel any better though. Silence engulfed them both for a minute.

“Thank you….. For uh, pulling me out of the hummer.” It was just something that popped into his head to say. Bradbury went on about how he should thank the guy who saved, that it was the only reason he was alive, etc. It got stuck in his head during all the time on bed rest.

What he expected Benny to saw was “Yeah, no problem, anything for you brother.” or some other sappy shit like that. Instead, he got a confused look.

“I didn’t save ya. After the crash, I was focused on helping Tran get out. Figured that you would fare better than the kid.” Something akin to confusion and anger filled him. But he wasn’t angry at Benny for saving Tran instead of him. No, he was angry that now he didn’t know who saved him. It couldn’t have been Benny or Tran, nor Bobby. Bradbury would have said something if it was her who saved him. And something in his gut told him that Henrikson didn’t save him?

So who did then? The Garrison? Ha, like they would save a hunter. Maybe he had a guardian angel looking out for him.

A cough from over his shoulder shook him out of his mystery. Benny had gotten up and moved closer to the door, making it clear he wanted to leave. That was something he could relate to.

“We are all drinking tonight in honor of Bobby being, you know, gone. So make sure to be there so I don’t have to drag you there.” That was enough to make Dean laugh and it was as if a weight was lifted off his chest.

“Is everyone going to be there?”

Benny froze at this, rubbing the back of his neck in a guilty manner that he didn’t like. “Yeah and a few more?” What the hell does that mean? As in the Garrison? The entire base? He refused to make eye contact with Dean for a minute before finally deciding to spill.

“The Garrison, and then some of Crowley’s men. Word got about the get-together and he managed to weasel his way into getting allowed in.” Benny said this while gritting his teeth. It seemed he was just as displeased as Dean. That worm of a war dog just had to weasel his way into the one good thing going on for the past week.

But before he can express just how much he hated having Crowley and his demon of men there, Dr. Solace returned from whatever emergency he had. He seemed to be fine, expect his blonde hair was a little disheveled from its usually perfect placement. Returning to his clipboard, he started writing like nothing changed.

“I need a moment with my patient, Private. So if you wouldn’t mind…” Dr. Solace motioned to the door with his pen without looking up. Benny opened his mouth to protest before walking out, clearly not happy with him being kicked out.

Dean got up to start changing into his uniform when a hand forced him to sit. “You do realize that you are going to have to report for checkups twice a week. Despite the whole ‘tough soldier who doesn’t need help from everyone’ facade you put on, I know how much that wound is bothering you.” For a moment, he couldn’t register the shock that swept over him. That statement was so accurate it was kinda scary. Was this guy a mind reader or something?

“No, I am not a mind reader. I have just worked with a lot of guys like you. You sorta start to learn how to read people after a while.” That only confirmed in Dean’s head that his doctor was definitely a mind reader.

“And here I was thinking I was special.” He muttered in a half joking tone. Dr. Solace let out a chuckle, setting down the clipboard.

“Believe me, Private Winchester, you are. I have worked here for a while now and I have seen a lot of things. But one thing I haven’t seen is a platoon who is so devoted. Most of the times, especially with privates, soldiers are just left here on their own until the day the return to work. Maybe they get a few visitors every so often, but not at the level that you got. What you have with the rest of your platoon is special. I would hold onto that.” That was something Dean was painfully aware of. He still wasn’t sure what he did to deserve a platoon like this. It was almost daunting a bit. Could he live up to the standard everyone held him at? It didn’t seem likely. His father is held as one of the greatest captains the company has ever seen. He didn’t want the everyone to be nice to him just because of who his dad was.

“I guess being a therapist comes with the job?”

“Maybe it is something that makes me special.” Dr. Solace shrugged with a slight smirk. “Now, get dressed. Your friend is waiting outside for you. Make sure not to drink too much, alright? I’ll see you Monday.”

________________________

December 16th, 2006
2056 hours

Dean stood in the cold air, looking at the dark horizon as his breath fogged up in the air. It was too dark to see the mountains, but the sky made up for it. The sky was filled with twinkling white stars. Seeing a night sky so choke full of stars made him understand what people meant when they said the universe was a big and cold place. There were thousands up there and each one was as cold as the last one. The quiet and cold was a contrast from the party he just left, but at this point he welcomed it.

It had started out innocently enough. They all grabbed a beer and opened it in honor of bobby. They laughed and shared stories (Dean was slowly learning how tough of guy Bobby was.) Bradbury pulled out this giant thing of tequila (Dean was also slowly learning how Bradbury was the master of contraband.) It was a funny time until the Garrison and Crowley’s men showed up. The war dogs had brought an ungodly amount of alcohol (Dean was also-also slowly learning just how insane the war dogs were) and pretty soon things got crazy. He was just thankful Bobby wasn’t here or else they would have all of their asses.

Finally, Dean needed to excuse himself to get out of the chaos. While he did love a party, he didn’t like one he couldn’t drink at. He also didn’t like a party where ever kept freaking out him like he was special or something. He survived an IED, which by the way 5 other people did, not kill Saddam Hussein. Now he was outside with only a Capri Sun to keep him company.

Two voices rang out behind him. Dean hid away in a shadow. He did not want to deal with more ‘the boy who lived’ jokes. He watched from behind a wall as two figures walked into his view.

“Gabriel, just drop it. Seriously. I do not understand why you have such an obsession with this entire thing!”

“Well, it isn’t every day that my little brother is a hero! Man, if the hunters knew that you saved their golden boy, you would probably be carried around like a king. But noooo, you have to be noble and shit and not say anything. Dad would be so proud of you.”

“Excuse me for not being self-centered like you. Not everyone likes to be hoisted up on a pedestal for the world to praise.”

“You sound like Dad.”

“Why do you always bring up our father when you are drunk?”

“Why do you always act so annoying when you are sober?”

Dean could hear the squabbling from where he was hiding. It didn’t take him too long to pin the voices. It was Lieutenant Novak and Castiel. Lieutenant Novak was definitely drunk. He was slurring, and while he couldn’t make out him out perfectly, he could see how much he was stumbling. Castiel was clearly not happy at how drunk his older brother was. Sam would relate to that. There was this one time when they went to Red Lion Pub for Sam’s 22nd birthday, and this blonde walked over—Nevermind, that wasn’t the story to focus on right now. The bigger thing was the fact that Castiel saved someone. Someone who was in the hunters…

Holy shit, did Cas save him?

He was there when the IED went off… And it wasn’t like Cas hated him…

“Go back to the party, please. I believe Roche and that redhead is calling you back.” There was a grumble and the shuffle of feet. Lieutenant Novak seemed to be gone now, leaving Castiel alone. Cas let out a breath as if a weight was lifted off him.

Dean stepped out of the shadow and stood next to Cas, not saying a word. Something drew him out, though he wasn’t sure what. Hell, he probably looked like a creep, didn’t he? He totally looked like a creep.

Castiel didn’t say anything at first, not even looking over to acknowledge him being there. “My father used to tell me a story about the stars when I was a kid. There was once a man and his sister who lived in eternal darkness. The man hated it in the darkness, but his sister thrived in it. He wanted to make a world but every time he would make it, his sister destroyed it. So one day, he devised a plan. He spent years making a single orb of light, the sun. His sister could not stop looking at the sun, entranced by it. This gave him time to make the world he wanted to make so much. But this sun would drift away at certain times, leaving his sister to destroy all the progress he made. The man did not have the resources to make a new sun. Instead, he made many tiny stars. There were so many of them that they trapped the darkness and his sister, protecting the world from them. He then went on to finish creating the world. That is why the darkness never fully covers the earth. The sun keeps it away during the day, and the stars keep it away at night. But the stars are not as strong as the sun, allowing the sister creep in a bit to cover the world. The sun, however, always returns to distract the sister.”

Dean smiled a bit a the story. His dad was never around to tell stories and Bobby wasn’t really the story type. “Sounds like this guy needs to work out a few things with his sister.”

A chuckle came from Castiel. “Perhaps he does. But who ever fully gets along with their siblings?”

“Isn’t that the truth..” While he would take a bullet for Sam, there was no denying that his brother got on his nerves sometimes.

“Speaking of siblings and the truth, a little birdie told me that I may owe you something,” Dean said as smoothly as possible, though it probably wasn’t.

Castiel growled next to him, startling Dean a bit. “I believe I need to talk to my brother about volume control later…”

“Before you go off to kill him, I would like to say thanks. I don’t know why you saved me or anything. I usually hate owing people things and I’m not sure how to, like, make it up to you. Not like I want to have you in a life or death situation so I can save you or something. I just—”

“Private Winchester? I accept your thanks. Now stop talking.” The blue eyes made him fall silent.

They didn’t talk anymore after that. Instead, they watched the stars keep away the darkness and the man’s sister.

Chapter Text

“If you don't love me, it does not matter, anyway I can love for both of us.” -Stendhal

December 20th
2338 hours

It was difficult to keep his eyes open. The computer screen was really bright and hurt his eyes. His old wound, while healing nicely, ached from the PT. It was nearly midnight and while he should be sleeping, he wasn’t.

The things he does for his brother.

This was the first time since his deployment that he had the chance to skype his brother. Dean wanted to do it sooner, but that would have meant skyping from the hospital and that was something he didn’t want to deal with. Sam was either going to give him pity or a lecture and he didn’t want to deal with either of those. So here he was, one and half months later awake at 11:30 pm trying to call Sam. Hopefully the kid is not in class or anything. Shit, wait, what time was it in California? Great, now Dean doesn’t even know if he will pick up. He should’ve planned this better.

However, his prayers were answered and the ringing stopped, instead replaced with a subpar video of his brother sitting in a small dorm room. His hair was longer, somehow, and he was wearing a stanford sweater that was a tad too small. The dorm behind him was plain, just a bookshelf full of books and a few unpacked boxes.

“Dean? Is that seriously you?” The skepticism in his brother’s voice stung a little more than it should have. Of course it is me, you idiot. Is it so hard to believe your brother would call you every once in awhile?

He just shoved the thoughts down however and gave Sam a big smile. “In the flesh! Hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

Sam chuckled and looked away from the screen, shaking his head a bit. “A month and a half. A month and half without knowing if you were alive or dead.” His tone didn’t match the smile on his face. Dean rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed manner. Yeah, that was a serious asshole move, no denying that.

“I know, I know. Things got a little hectic. But hey, it is all ok now!” It wasn’t ok, but there was no way in hell he was going to let Sam know that. “Anyways, how is the college life? Pick up any hot sorority chicks yet?”

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes. “No, because I have to catch up on work. I started 2 months late, because somebody was deploying and I had to see him off.” Oh, he was still upset about that. Dean honestly thought Sam would drop the whole thing after he deployed. But apparently he was wrong.

“Wow, uh, ok… Sorry, I guess?” It was hard to miss the thinly veiled sarcasm in Dean’s words. “How is Bobby, at least? Is he feeling better?”

“Wait, what do you ‘is he feeling better?’ I thought he was deployed with you.”

Dean had to take a minute to fully take in what Sam said. “You… You don’t know? You didn’t bother to call Ellen at all? There was an IED! Bobby is in a wheelchair. How can you not know this! He is family for god’s sake. Isn’t it winter break anyways? Aren’t you free to go and, you know, visit the guy who helped raise us!” Anger was filling him. That was just.. Just so fucking selfish. How could he not know?

“How was I supposed to know? I’m not psychic! Ellen probably didn’t call me because she didn’t need everyone coming over and fussing over him when he should be recovering. Anyways, I’m busy with school and Jess because…” His voice trailed off like he realized he said too much. Not that Dean noticed. He was too focused on the fact that Sam just forgot them and left. “You know what, never mind. I don’t need to explain myself to you of all people about abandoning family.”

That statement hit Dean in the gut hard. “What is that supposed to mean?” The private said carefully, even though he fully knew what it meant.

“It means you aren’t allowed to lecture me about leaving family behind when you left your only brother to go fight in some stupid war! Hell, I don’t even know why you are there now that Saddam is dead…” His younger brother growled. Sam was leaning back in his chair now, arms crossed over his chest like he did as a kid when he was pouting. Only now, that pouting was a little more formidable since he was a freaking giant.

“I’m not fighting in some stupid war. Anyways, I’ll be home in 16 and half months and—”

“Just like how Dad was supposed to be home in 7 months, right?” Sam muttered quietly, but Dean heard it anyways and stopped. Did he just… No, he wouldn’t. There was some lines neither of them crossed, and mentioning that was one of them.

“Don’t… Don’t say that. Don’t compare me to that..” The words got caught in this throat, refusing to form correctly.

“You can’t even say it Dean. You aren’t able to even say how our Dad died. Damn it, you are so busy trying to make him proud, you don’t even realize that you are going to get yourself killed.” Dean refused to look at the screen, at his brother. Everything he was saying was true, but he just couldn’t accept it.

Sam scoffed loudly, hanging his head. “Why do you look up to him? He was always either deployed or drunk. You were the one who took care of us, not him. He didn’t die a hero either. He got cocky and nearly got the rest of his platoon killed because he disobeyed orders. Dad cared about shooting the bad guys, not about you, or me, or even—”

“Shut up!” Dean yelled louder than he meant to. He didn’t mean to start yelling at his brother, but he had to stop him from mention… well,he didn’t want to think about it.

Sam fell silence, and for a moment they just looked at each. Words weren’t needed to say what they were thinking. The hard look in each others eyes said it all.

“I think… I need to go, Dean.” Sam whispered, as if those words would be too powerful if said louder.

Dean nodded solemnly, realizing he was right. “Yeah, yeah… I think that is what is best. I’ll call you soon.”

His brother shook his head. “No, I don’t think you should. Don’t call me as long as you are deployed.”

The wind got knocked out of his lungs,not wanting to fully accept what Sam just said. “Wait.. what? You—You can’t be serious. Look, I’m sorry for yelling. I didn’t mean it. Sam, just..” His voice failed, ending his plea. Sam was looking at his desk now, his shaggy hair obscuring most of his face. Panic filled Dean. No, this wasn’t happening. He spent most of his life looking after Sam, and now his brother couldn’t even look at him.

“Dean, don’t make this any harder. It’is what is best, alright?” The video ended. No goodbye, nothing. Just… black.

He leaned back, something growing in his chest. While he couldn’t place his finger on what that feeling was, it would explain the tears rolling down his cheeks.

________________________

December 25th
0812 hours

Christmas was never his favorite holiday. He didn’t hate it or anything, but he never looked forward to it. It always meant disappointment. Dad was never there, so they were usually on their own. That meant Dean had to figure how to get gifts for his younger brother. As he got older and got get a job, it wasn’t too bad. But when he was only 6, 7 years old, it was rough.

But now, he couldn’t help but to look forward to Christmas. They had set up a secret santa (mainly based on the begging of Bradbury, Fitzgerald, and Tran). Turner relented after a lot of convincing, and allowed there to be a formal gift exchange. Word of it got to the Garrison, so the whole thing ended up bigger than anyone expected. Of course, there were a few rules. No obscene gifts, the other person can’t know you are buying them a gift, etc, etc.

He was secret santa to Castiel, of course. If there was a God, he seemed really like turning Dean’s life into a shitty sitcom. And if it wasn’t because of the divine intervention of God, then the coincidence was a little unsettling.

Either way, he needed to figure out what to get Castiel. That turned out to be a little of a problem. Dean had zero idea what he would like. Cas looked like the guy that would be happy with getting a pair of beige socks. And Dean was definitely not getting the poor guy a pair of beige socks. Or just socks in general.

So his only resort was to go and ask his brother. Calling that awkward was an understatement. He timed it so that he could ask Lieutenant Novak right as Castiel was gone (it wasn’t weird that Dean knew Cas’s schedule, alright. Shut up.)

Dean wandered into the hanger as Cas went to go a meeting with some captains. It wasn’t as hectic as other times he walked in, so finding the golden hair lieutenant was easy. He was standing next to an Apache, fiddling with something on the controls. A bright pink lollipop was sticking out of his mouth. Dean made a mental note to ask later where he was getting all of the candy.

“Hey, Novak.” Dean said as he walked over. Novak responded with a yelp and the lollipop falling out of his mouth. Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. Unfortunately he lost his internal battle and started laugh. It was hard not to. There was grease all over his uniform, his golden hair slicked back with it. While he wasn’t an expert on helicopter engines, what Novak was just working on did not look correct in anyway whatsoever.

“I need to ask you a question before you get court martialed.” He managed to get out, recovering from the laughing fit. Whatever Novak was doing, it was probably not legal and he wanted to get out of there before he also got in trouble.

Novak huffed, trying to wipe off the grease to no avail. “Yeah, yeah. What is it? I got some important things to do.” Like breaking another helicopter? Dean thought to himself.

“I got your brother as for secret santa, and I would like to know what kind of stuff he likes.” Now it was Novak’s turn to laugh. He doubled over, clutching his stomach. Dean rolled his eyes. “Answer the question, Novak. This isn’t funny.”
Novak didn’t answer at first, continuing to laugh like a hyena. “Au contraire, dear. It is extremely funny. But, yes, I will answer your question. My dear brother is a fan of simple, heartfelt things. He is sentimental like that. Get him something meaningful.”

Something meaningful? Seriously? That was all the advice he got? He didn’t need some advice from a lifetime movie, he needed something like a wish list.

“Wow, thanks. Now, could you be a little less vague this time and actually help me out?” Frustration seeped into his words. For some reason, he actually wanted to get Cas something he would actually like. Not something he will stuff away and regift a few years later.

Novak rolled his eyes. “I don't know what you want me to tell you! It isn't like he has a wish list.” He turned to continue meddling on the helicopter but Dean grabbed his shoulder to stop him. “What do you usually get him?”

“A card stuffed with 100 dollars.”

“Seriously?!? He is your goddamn brother not you weird cousin!” Dean felt like he was getting a migraine. This was a bad idea, he should have asked someone else. Literally anyone else.

Novak seemed clearly upset too with how long his conversation was going on. “His favorite color is blue. Happy? Now leave before…. aw shit.” He trailed off. Novak was looking behind him, seemingly trying to hide behind Dean. Confused, Dean turned to be face to face with Castiel. He was sweaty, just coming back from P.T. His shirt was stuck to his body, his dark black hair ruffled and falling in his eyes.

Focus on his eyes, focus on his eyes, don't look anywhere else.

Dean felt a pit of panic in this stomach. This was the definition of an awkward situation. God, why didn't he change his shirt before he came here? Hell, why did it bother him so much?

“Private Winchester, what you doing here with….. Novak, what the hell are you doing to that Apache??” Castiel said in careful words. A small yelp came from Novak behind him.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, letting out a chuckle. “Oh, I was here to ask….. you something, but, uh, Novak here, he, umm, helped. So, yeah, uh, I'm all good now. And I just need to leave cause I think Singer needs me. Happy Christmas and Merry New Years.” He managed to get out before rushing away to leave Novak to his impending doom.

Holy shit, what the hell was that? How the hell could I fail to speak that badly?!? “Happy Christmas”? Really? I might as well never show my face there again.

After that failure of, well, everything, Dean went to the nearest village to try and find something. After two days and a long hassle over price, he maybe just found the perfect gift. But there was no telling till Cas opened it.

Everyone gathered in the rec room holding the gifts they bought. In the center of the room stood Turner who had a look in his face expressing he didn't get paid enough for this. “For simplicity’s sake, just go up to the person who got and give them your gift. Merry fucking Christmas.”

Before he could even look in Cas’s direction, he got bombarded by Bradbury. Thrusting a gift wrapped in glittery reindeer, she smiled ear to ear.

“Merry Christmas! Open it!!” She demanded, nearly hopping with excitement. He had no choice but to open it. In his hands was the entire box collection of Dr. Sexy, including exclusive bonus content.

Dean looked away in amazement. “How did you… how did you know? And how you even get this?” He wasn't sure if it was awe or dear he felt in his heart. His Dr. Sexy love wasn't something he flaunted around.

Bradbury chuckled a bit. “A magician never reveals her secrets.” With a wink she walked off, leaving Dean in more confusion. That was… weird. But, he adored the gift and made sure to put it somewhere safe while he went to go give Cas his gift.

Taking a deep breath, he went over to Cas. He was standing all alone, a small but somehow sad smile on his face.

“Hey, Cas. Merry Christmas.” Dean held out the gift, a poorly wrapped box in bright red wrapping paper. Cas gave him a strange look before pushing the gift away.

“Dean, you didn't have to get me anything, it is fine.”

“Cas open the goddamn gift, alright?” He shoved the gift in his arms. Dean was only slightly pissed off Cas didn't accept his gift at first. Jesus, he had to fight Cas to let him treat him nice.

A look of exasperation crossed the lieutenant’s face before he finally took the gift. Carefully, he unwrapped the paper and opened the small cardboard box. Inside sat a small statue the size of an eraser of Michael the Archangel. His sword was raised high as it was about to be stabbed into a demon he was standing on. The entire statue was made of black stone except for the sword, wings, and halo, which had blue detailing. The look of exasperation was replaced with one of amazement.

Castiel picked the statue up gingerly, holding it as if it was going to break. His eyes never left it. “Where did you find this? It must have been incredibly hard to get..”

Dean just shrugged, a shy smile on his lips. “It was nothing. Just glad you like it.” That was a lie. It took him 2 days, a long argument with an old Afghani lady, and 83 dollars. But, based on the look in Cas’s face, it was worth it.

“I… This is perfect. I can't express how much I love this, Dean.” His hand was holding the figurine so tightly Dean was scared it might break. There was something in his expression that Dean couldn't quite place. Was it… pain? Did he cause it?

“How did you know to get Michael? There are 6 other archangels to choose from, one of which my brother is named after.” Cas finally looked up at him, his blue eyes boring holes into him.

Dean opened his mouth before closing it again, unsure of an answer. “I guess… it just seemed like you. Michael is the patron of soldiers, if I remember the one class of Sunday School I went to correctly. Seems like a nice guy to have watching over you in a place like this.” Dean wasn't religious or anything, but he get why people liked having saints. He wouldn't mind having someone rooting for him up there.

Cas didn't say anything, his eyes falling back on the statue. His black hair and blue eyes seemed to match the angel scarily well as if it was made for him. The voices around them became white noise as Dean focused on the look of Cas’s face. That look a happiness was one he has never seen on Cas before and he would be lying if he didn't say he liked it. There wasn't a smile, but just a glimmer in his eyes that was enough to confirm how he felt about the gift. His usually tired eyes were gone.This moment, them just standing together with an unspoken joy between them seemed unreal, but perfect. It seemed like it was actually Christmas. It may not be snowing, or there be any actual family, and the Christmas tree may just be a small acacia tree with ornaments made of colored cardboard, but it felt more like Christmas then all those back as a kid.

Someone clapped him hard on the back, the smell of alcohol and eggnog slamming his nose. “Merry Christmas, Dean-O!” A drunken Benny laughed.

“Are you on your fourth drink of spiked eggnog?”

“What? No! This is only my third.” Benny looked down at his drink with a frown. “Now I need my fourth.” With that he was gone as soon as he came.

Dean looked at Castiel to find him having tucked his gift away. Whatever Christmas spirit moment they just shared was gone. A twinge of pain hit him in his heart, a feeling all too familiar at this point.

“Thank you, once again. You have no idea what this means to me.” Cas’s hand found its place on the side on Dean’s arm. It was hard to miss the tingle that went up his spine. Cas’s hand was rough and calloused against the bare skin of Dean’s bicep and yet he liked it. It was warm and caused his heart to sound like the beat of an old rock song. He could feel the blush rising up on his face. Their eyes met for a brief moment before someone called Cas’s name. For a second, neither of them moved. The distance between them were mere inches. But the voice beckoned Cas away again and at least the lieutenant backed away. Dean could have sworn he felt his fingers linger on his skin but it was probably his imagination.

There Dean stood, alone in the party and laughter. His eyes were still on the back of the man who just gave his heart a murmur. There was a goofy smile and redness on his face, but if you mentioned it to him he would have just blamed it on the alcohol and eggnog he hasn't had.