Chapter 3

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Dean roused from his sleep hours before dawn, his tongue sticking to the top of his mouth and a scratching in his throat that didn't go away despite the dry swallow that was forced down. He lifted his head, just barely, and looked towards the cabin door, barely making out the shadow of a guard standing not far from the doorway, the dull moonlight casting only enough light to discern him from the dark trees in the background, and nothing else.


Fingers touched the back of his hand and he jerked away, his body tensing automatically in the thought of a fight coming, only to stop when he came face-to-face with the injured soldier, the man's mouth twitching into a fearful grimace as he moved his hand back as if he had been burned. Slowly, Dean forced himself to relax, watching as the man moved his hand down to the ground, brushing his fingers along it as if searching for something.


Slowly, Dean frowned, letting his hand slowly reach out and touch the back of the man's hand. He flinched, but he stopped moving, and he took in a deep breath, twisting his hand so that his fingers brushed along Dean's palm.


"W-who are you?" The man asked softly, his voice rumbling deeply in his throat as he whispered. Dean leaned a little closer, casting his gaze back to the guard before turning back to the man, his lips pressed into a thin line.


"Winchester. Dean Winchester," Dean mumbled in response, keeping his voice low as he studied the injured soldier and the tenseness in his shoulders contrasting greatly against the softness of his touch on Dean's hand, "And you are?"


"Castiel Novak," The man answered his mouth twitching with concern as Dean assumed he tried to make a face, hindered by the bandages that strapped across his eyes. Now that Dean was looking at the white pieces, he could see the blood staining through, pale in places, but soaked in many others.


"What happened?" Dean asked, moving his hand from Castiel's and freezing when the soldier began to shake as he searched for Dean's hand again, as if the situation only became real with his touch. Still, he guided Castiel's hand to his shoulder, allowing him to rest it there while Dean had both his hands to loosen the bandage, easing it off so he could see the damage done.


The sight was a mess, cuts torn around Castiel's eyes, laced over the top of each other and some still bleeding sluggishly. The eyes themselves seem uninjured, but waving his hand in front of Castiel's face showed no signs the soldier being able to see him.


"I escaped, but..." Castiel trailed off, and it didn't take a genius for Dean to figure out that the man had been the escapee that the other soldier had talked about when they were first captured. Dean let out an understandable grunt before looking at the useless bandages in his hands. There was no way he could put it back on the injured soldier's eyes covered in blood like it was.


Instead, he let the bandages fall to the ground and worked his uniform open the best he could with his chained hands, managing to grab ahold of his undershirt and feel along the cloth until the ragged, torn edge ran across his fingers. He tugged several times, struggling to get a good grasp before he finally heard the soft sound of tearing, and he felt Castiel's grip tighten a little.


"What's that?" Castiel asked, his voice fearful and confused, and when Dean looked up, the words he was going to say died on his lips. Castiel's eyes were catching the light from the lantern, and even in the soft orange glow, he could see that the man had the most beautiful blue eyes that he had ever seen in his life. It amazed him, to see an intensity in them that gave the man an undenying sense of power that he didn't have when his eyes had been covered.


"Um...nothing," Dean managed to spit out softly after a few moments before he returned to his tearing, managing to get a nice and long strip once the initial fabric gave way. He turned back to Castiel, patting his hand gently with the cloth gripped in his other hand.


"I'm putting the bandage back on, okay?" He whispered softly, waiting until Castiel gave him a nod before reaching up, letting the fabric just gently touch the man's face. Castiel flinched away at first, the tenseness returning to his shoulders before he relaxed, and Dean eased the strip back around Castiel's eyes, hiding that dangerous intensity from the rest of the world and leaving just an injured, young man behind.


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Dean gritted his teeth as he felt the tug of the chains pull at him and every other prisoner when Castiel stumbled and fell to the hard ground, the injured soldier letting out a soft yelp as he struggled to gain his footing against the unfamiliar ground. The twitch in the man's mouth showed just how frustrated that Castiel was beginning to get as he pushed himself back up, holding tightly to his own arms as he struggled to keep up with the already slow pace.


The guards were growing impatient with the way that they clenched and unclenched at their guns, scowling every time that Castiel stumbled. It wasn't until another time that one stalked over, raising the butt of his gun in frustration and hitting Castiel in the spine that Dean growled, hovering near Castiel with a warning in his eyes as he crouched beside the man, glaring at the enemy as he helped him up.


"Hey, it's okay," Dean mumbled, staring down at Castiel and watching as the man's hand tightened into fists and his jaw clenched, "Come on, I'll help you."


With Dean's help, Castiel slowly rose back onto his feet, and Dean didn't let go of the man as he carefully guided him the best he could with the chains in his way. He heard soft words run through the guards, the tones of each voice making it clear that what they were saying were jibes at the two of them. One even walked up, a lewd whisper reaching Dean's ear that had him scowling as the guard laughed at his reaction.


This continued well into the mid-afternoon, the prisoners stumbling tiredly through the forest as the sun began to lower itself from the sky. Castiel surprisingly managed not to fall but a few more times, which Dean caught and kept from completely hitting the ground at least, which saved the injured soldier from a beating that he didn't deserve.


It was when they set up camp that the soldiers were able to sit down, and they were even given a small piece of bread each with a drink of water that the guards dealt out before the last light faded from the sky. They were not untangled from the middle chain, as there were no cabins or railing to bind them too, so instead, the soldiers had to find comfort and lay around one another, struggling to keep their legs out of the way of the others incase it were to start a heated arguement in an already tense group.


Castiel did not try to lay down, choosing rather to focus on nothing, and Dean would say that he would have been staring at the stars if he could as the man turned his face towards the sky. One guard scoffed at him, but Castiel seemed not to notice, the sadness in his mouth reminding Dean of Sam, making his heart twinge with loneliness as he laid down to rest for their next day.


And if he reached out in his sleep, clutching onto Castiel like he did with Sam, who was to blame him?

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