Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dean Winchester was not what you would call a gentleman.

For example, right now he was engaged in a rather vicious bar fight with a man who looked to be ten years his senior, a good twenty pounds heavier, and probably three mugs of beer drunker than he was. On the bright side, he was winning.

The other man lunged at him, a fist swinging in the general vicinity of his face. Dean dodged it easily, because being drunk had never done anything for a person’s aim. The guy’s face got even redder, if that was possible, and let out an angry bellow.

Around them, the tavern’s other patrons were beginning to cheer, and a couple idiots were placing bets on who would win. This was beginning to look like it might turn out to be a proper fight.

Dean grabbed one of the drunk guy’s arms, and used his free hand to land a punch on the asshole’s nose. Cheering and laughter rose from the crowd, then died abruptly as the tavern owner came out and shouted, “What in God’s name is going on out here? I don’t cater to heathens, anyone who’s brawling can get the hell out! Go on!”

Then he caught sight of Dean, and frowned. “Except for you, Winchester.”

Bobby Singer was the owner of this particular tavern, and he knew Dean’s father quite well. By extension, he also knew Dean quite well. So if (when) Dean got into a fight with one of the more idiotic patrons of Bobby’s tavern, he was the one who gave him a rag to wipe the blood off his knuckles and then promptly showed him a row of dirty glasses to clean as punishment.

“Boy, what am I going to do with you?” Bobby sighed as Dean ran a hand through his hair. Unlike a lot of men, Dean preferred to keep his hair short.

“Not tell my dad?” Dean grinned, but there was still a hint of a serious question under his flippant words. He’d never live it down if word got back to home about the real reason he got into another fight.

Tensions with the King and England were heating up fast. More and more unjust laws were being passed, and it seemed the number of soldiers on the American shore was growing by the day. It was getting to the point that people were being forced to quarter the unwelcome visitors in their homes. But that wasn’t why Dean was fighting.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this from your father, Dean.” Bobby picked up a mug, turning it around in his hands. Worry laced his tone.

Dean sighed. “We both know that Dad would rip me another one if he found out why I was fighting with these guys. And we both know that I’m not going to let them keep insulting me like that.”

Before Bobby could say anything else, Dean was out the door and in the street.

The street was full of people. Two men rode past on horses, a wagon clattered by, and the general populace of the town flowed around him. Dean wove through it all, dodging a cluster of gentlemen in frock coats who must’ve thought it was a good idea to stand right in the middle of the sidewalk.

As he reached the outskirts of town the crowds thinned out, and he broke into a run. His boots pounded on the ground as he curved off the road, racing through a field and vaulting a fence. When his destination came into view, he slowed and straightened his shirt. Satisfied, he trotted the rest of the way into his family’s farmyard.

They didn’t actually farm anymore. In fact, his father was a blacksmith who worked in town. But the house and its plot of land had been in his mother’s family for generations.

Dean patted his jet- black mare, Baby, on the nose and headed inside. “Sammy, I’m home!” He shouted, heading into their parlor and flopping down on a chair. Thankfully his opponent from the bar hadn’t landed any blows, so there was nothing to hide.

His little brother came down the stairs, another book tucked under his arm. Sam was four years Dean’s junior, with floppy hair that hung to just above his shoulders. He read a great deal and was hoping to go to law school within the next year. At sixteen, he was just about old enough.

“Hey, Dean. How’s Bobby?” Sam asked, setting his book down and brushing some of his hair out of his eyes.

“He’s fine, fine.” Dean replied absentmindedly. “Man, I’m telling you, then minutes with those old shears.”

Sam snorted, drawing a bit of ribbon out of his pocket and tying his hair back. “Whatever, Dean. I like my hair like this. It looks good!”

“Keep telling yourself that, Sammy.”

The sun was already very low in the sky when the door of the old farmhouse banged open. “Boys, I’m home!” John Winchester’s voice rang out.

In their room, Dean’s eyes snapped open and Sam put down his book. They looked at each other; it sounded like their father was drunk again. Slowly, they headed down the stairs.

When their father was drunk, he’d either get very melancholy and sit in silence for hours, or he’d get explosively angry at any little noise or disturbance and then sulk for hours, staring at a small miniature of their late mother, Mary Winchester.

When they reached the bottom, their father simply looked at them. “Dean- you look so much like your mother.” was all John said before he collapsed into the nearest chair, asleep.

And that was Dean’s home life.

…

Both boys rose with the sun. It was mostly habit, but also because their room faced the direction of the rising sun and the curtains did very little. In fact, that was how they’d developed the habit.

Dean raced down the stairs, grabbing an apple that someone had left lying around (probably Sammy- he was big on eating fruits and vegetables whenever someone in town was selling) and hurried outside.

Baby’s saddle was hanging over the wooden wall of her stall. The family’s other two horses, an old stallion named Riot and another mare, Jess, whinnied a greeting at him. “Sammy’ll come feed you guys soon, don’t worry.” Dean called over his shoulder as he adjusted the straps on Baby’s tack. When he was satisfied, he mounted and galloped off.

Though they lived too far away from town to have many neighbors, there was one family who lived a five minute walk away from their house. But on a horse, Dean reached the Novak house in two.

His best friend lived in that house. Castiel Novak was Dean’s same age, twenty, and he had dark brown hair that almost looked black, he was just a little shorter than Dean, and he had the bluest eyes you’d ever seen…

Ahem. Dean had long harbored a secret crush on Cas. But he’d never be able to do anything about it, not with the public’s attitude towards… people like him.

As he trotted down the lane into the Novak’s yard, Gabriel Novak greeted him. He was one of Castiel’s many brothers, along with Michael and Lucifer, who were twins, Raphael, Uriel, Balthazar, Samandriel, and his sisters, Hannah and Anna. The Novaks were a big family.

“Good morning, Dean! You here to see Cassie? He’s inside. Hold on.” Gabriel turned around, cupping his hands around his mouth, and shouted, “Balthy! Tell Cassie to get his ass outside, Dean’s here!”

The other Novak, Balthazar, who’d just stepped outside, stuck his head into the house and passed the message on to Hannah.

A few minutes later, Castiel stepped outside, tying a cravat around his neck and shouting goodbyes over his shoulder. He saw Dean on his horse and grinned.

Gabriel, who, for once in his life, seemed to have decided to be helpful, passed Cas the reins of his gold-brown horse, Inias. “See you too later. Don’t get killed!” he snickered, before walking off, probably to go prank some poor soul. Gabe was a real trickster.

Castiel smiled up at Dean, who felt his heart melt a little right then and there. “Hello, Dean.”

…

They were racing to a little cliff that overlooked the sea. Dean was just a little ahead, but Cas was close on his heels and slowly gaining ground. They thundered down the path, laughing and calling out good -natured insults to one another.

When they reached the overlook, Dean pulled Baby to a halt. “I win! Take that, Cas.” he crowed. “Not even Inias is fast enough to best Baby here.”

Cas chuckled. “Just you wait and see, Dean Winchester. One of these days I’ll get you.” He dismounted, walking to the edge of the cliff and sitting down in the grass. Dean joined him, and they sat there enjoying the view and the breeze coming off the sea as the horses grazed behind him.

A pair of seagulls soared in the sky over their heads, cawing to one another as they rode the gusts of wind, spiraling around like every action was a step in some sort of dance.

Dean was watching Cas out of the corner of his eyes. His friend had a small smile on his face, and the wind was touseling his hair. He looked so content- Castiel loved the sea.

“Dean.” Cas said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen. “I need to ask you something…”

But Dean wasn’t looking at his friend anymore. Something out on the ocean had caught his eye. “Cas. Cas, look. Out there- can you see that, or is it just me? Please tell me it’s just me.”

But it wasn’t. Both boys got slowly to their feet and looked out at the horizon in dawning confusion and fear as the fleet of ships bearing the British flag got closer and closer.

Chapter Text

Dean and Cas stood on the cliff, watching as the fleet sailed towards the harbor. It must have been at least ten, maybe fifteen large ships, big enough that they could probably hold an entire army between all of them. Though they must have been several miles down the coast, Dean could see the dark smudges against the sides of the ships- their guns were drawn.

Cas ran a hand through his hair, before he whirled around and headed towards the horses. He grabbed Inias’s and Baby’s reins, passing Dean’s horse to him. “Come on, Dean. We have to tell others about this.” He hoisted himself up onto his horse.

Before his friend could gallop off by himself, Dean pulled himself onto Baby’s back and followed Cas.

“Cas! Cas, wait up. Hold up, man.” Dean urged Baby alongside Inias. “What do you want to do about this? What can we do about this?”

His friend shook his head. “We at least have to let them know. If we wake up tomorrow and there’s an army knocking on our doors we at least deserve a heads-up a day in advance. And besides, you saw those guns. You know what’s going on in some of the colonies. England might finally be coming down harder on us.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way back to the Novak house. When they rode into the yard, Cas slid of his horse’s back, and led the way to their stables.

Dean had been to the Novak home so often that Baby had a stall that they usually kept empty for those times when he spent the night at Cas’s after a long day of riding, adventuring, or perhaps sneaking back to the house late at night after spending the evening at Singer’s Tavern.

When the horses were stabled, Cas headed towards the house, grabbing Dean by the hand and tugging him along.

“Dad!” was the first word out of Castiel’s mouth when they got inside. “Dad, you’ve got to know what Dean and I saw!”

Castiel’s father, Charles “Chuck” Novak, (Dean’s favorite fact about Cas’s dad was the fact that he’d written a few books under a pseudonym, Charles Shurley, but was too shy to tell anyone outside the family about it) came down the stairs, concern written on his face. “Castiel? What’s wrong, son? Oh, hello, Dean.”

“Hi, Mr. Novak.” Dean gave a little half-wave. Cas resolutely ploughed forward. “Dad, Dean and I were riding by the ocean, and we stopped for a little, and there was a British fleet! We could see their cannons, and those ships were big enough for hundreds of soldiers! Is the King invading?”

Chuck held up his hands. “Whoah, son. Calm down. I don’t think the King’s sending anyone to invade us just yet. I’m sure there’s a completely reasonable explanation for all of this.”  

“Yes, Dad, the completely reasonable explanation is that England is going to invade us.” Cas muttered under his breath. Chuck raised an eyebrow. “What was that, son?”

“Nothing, Dad.”

The elder Novak turned to Dean. “Would you like to go get your brother, and eat dinner with us tonight, Dean?”

…

Dean sat next to Cas and Sam at the Novak’s dinner table. Sam was chatting happily with Samandriel and Gabriel, while Cas’s mother, Naomi, and the younger of the two sisters, Anna, tried to draw him into a conversation.

He heavily suspected that Naomi had been trying to set him and Anna up for ages. And if he wasn’t so in love with Cas, he might have been inclined to flirt with Anna. But he was very in love with Cas, so…   

Not like he’d be able to act on it, and if Castiel ever found out, he’d probably hate Dean.

Speaking of Cas, he was staring gloomily down at his food, not eating.

After dinner was over, Cas and Gabriel walked Dean and Sam to the door. Surprisingly, Gabe accompanied them out to the stables. Cas usually walked Dean back to his horse, just to “make sure he made it to the stables alright” but no one else usually tagged along.

Cas stroked Baby’s nose, before patting Dean on the knee and wishing him and Sam a good night and a safe ride home.

“Seeya, Sammy, Dean-o.” Gabriel called as the two brothers rode off.

There were no other homes between theirs and the Novaks, so the ride home was completely shadowed in darkness. Overhead, the sky was filled with stars, and the moon was full. If you listened closely, you could almost hear the ocean.

Sam looked happy. He loved going to dinner at the Novaks. Dean loved staying at Cas’s house too, because the family was fun, and chaotic, and loud. Unlike their home, where it was silent and empty most of the time. With Dad at work, the brothers spent most of their time outside.

Riot, their father’s stallion, wasn’t in his stall when they got home. Neither was his tack, so it was probably safe to assume their father was at Singer’s Tavern, talking to Bobby or one of his other friends.

As soon as the horses were settled in for the night, the brothers headed inside and up to bed.

“G’night, Sammy.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

…

Dean woke up the next morning to a loud banging on the door in favor of the usual sunrise. He rolled over and groaned, shoving his head under the pillow in hopes of blocking out the sound. It didn’t work.

He plodded down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. Pulling open the door, he yawned. “Whaddya want?”

“Are you Mr. John Winchester?”

Shit. In front of him stood a young man, maybe a year or two older than Dean, dressed in a soldier’s red coat. He was looking at Dean with disdain and possibly a little bit of annoyance. Dean blinked, dragging a hand across his face to try and wake himself up further.

“Ah, no. No, that’s my dad.” Yep, the soldier was definitely annoyed now. Dean stood there for a few long moments until the soldier cleared his throat. “Can you go get him? Is he home?” He peered into the house.

“He’s asleep.” Dean responded, shifting to try and block the guy’s view inside. Seriously, what was his deal?

“Well, wake him up.”

Dean went back inside, and headed up the stairs. He met Sam on the way down, and pointed back up the stairs, gesturing to the door and drawing a hand across his throat. No. Go back upstairs. His brother’s eyes widened, and he mouthed, British? Dean nodded.

Sam stayed on the steps as Dean went up to wake their dad. John Winchester did not like to be woken early, especially after he’d been drinking. Dean winced at the thought of having to deal with a hungover father, and with the soldier who’d most likely be pissed about that.

Sure enough, John was passed out on the bed, his arms and legs splayed like he’d just collapsed onto the bed and stayed like that. Dean crept into the room, and shook his father’s shoulder gently. “Dad. Dad, wake up. There’s a British soldier here, and he’s asking for you.”

John let out a groan, flung an arm over his face, and promptly told Dean to get out, except in far ruder language. To summarize, the soldier could stick something very unpleasant in a very unpleasant place.

“That’s great Dad, and I’m sure he’ll love that advice, but I think it’s probably really important and you should go downstairs and here it.” Dean persisted in shaking John’s shoulder.

Several minutes, vulgar words, and a few sloppily flung fists later, Dean trailed behind his father as he made his way down the steps. The soldier was still standing in the doorway, his arms crossed across his chest as he glared into the house like everything around him was mortally offending.  

Plodding down the final few stairs and coming face to face with their early- morning visitor, John Winchester leaned against the doorframe. “Whaddya want?”

The redcoat drew himself to his full height, and pulled a letter out of his pocket. “You are a blacksmith, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You are a subject of the British Crown, and the Crown is calling for you to serve your country. We want you  to start helping the army to create ammunition, horseshoes, repairing artillery, and other such things. You will be compensated, of course.” The soldier passed the letter over, then wiped his hands down the front of his coat. “Have a good day, Mr. Winchester. We’ll send someone around to check on you every week or so.”

He turned and left, walking down the lane and mounting a horse that had been tied to a fence post in front of the house. There was a faint cry of “hya!” and the soldier trotted off in the direction of town.

Dean watched the guy ride off. Sam finally ventured down the stairs, and joined Dean. “What happened?”

“Dad’s been told he has to make bullets and fix weapons and things.” Dean replied, closing the door.

“I might be a blacksmith, but that doesn’t mean I know how to do all this stuff.” John snorted. “Fixing cannons? Don’t they have someone else to do that?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe their blacksmiths are too overworked.”

Chapter Text

Later that afternoon, Dean headed over to Cas’s house to tell him what had happened that morning. Surprisingly, given his reaction to seeing the ships yesterday, Castiel didn’t have much of a reaction.

His friend sighed, and rested his chin on his hands. “Dean, I don’t know. That’s not too unusual, I mean, tradesmen like your father are often asked by the government to do certain things for them. The bullets though, and the weapons, that does make it sound like they’re preparing for something. Maybe it’s with the French, though?” Cas perked up at the prospect. “Michael thinks it’s probably the French.”

“Dude, you told me literally last week that you thought Michael’s ideas were full of horse shit, remember? And I distinctly remember you saying, and I’m sure I’m quoting you here, that the only reason Michael and Lucifer are always together is that they’re the only ones who can stand each other.” Dean reminded him, raising his eyebrows. “Anyways, yesterday you were freaking out about those ships.”

Cas actually looked embarrassed. “I- may have overreacted, just a little.”

Dean laughed and gently knocked his shoulder against Cas’s. “What do you say we go for a walk, or something? Let’s get out of this house. Besides, I think Lucifer’s having another fight with your dad, and I know that you probably won’t want to be in the house for the aftermath.”

Lucifer and Mr. Novak’s fights were legendary. Michael usually took their father’s side, which made the house incredibly tense, in particular because the twins shared a room. One or both of them would sulk around the house, and if you ran into one, it would be like a match to a powder keg. Until the twins forgave each other, one practically had to tiptoe around.

The two boys slipped out of the house, whispering to Cas’s little brother Samandriel that they would be going out.

Above them, the sun was sinking to the horizon, washing the sky in pale blue, orange, red, and gold. It was a truly spectacular sunset. There was no one in the lane- most people would be eating their dinners, or wrapping up a long day of hard work. Dean hadn’t ridden to Cas’s house this time, so they forwent riding and walked, heading away from town.

The weather was fine. It was fall, the harvest season. Trees were beginning to lose their leaves, and they skittered down the path ahead of them in dancing spirals.

When they had all been children, Michael and Lucifer had taken them out to the woods. All of Cas’s brothers, and Dean and Sammy too. They’d chased each other through the trees for hours, playing tag and soldiers and all sorts of things. Even if they hadn’t been down there in years, Dean’s feet still remembered the path they’d taken. He and Cas hopped over a fence, crossed a field, and balanced on rocks as they picked their way over a stream.

As little kids, the boys had found a small clearing, and rolled rocks, tree stumps and a few large branches into it to make a circle. When they’d been just a bit older and Lucifer knew how to strike flint, they’d made a smaller circle in the middle for a fire. Often they’d stayed out so late that more than once John Winchester had had to come look for them (Mr. Novak didn’t really care for the woods all that much).

To Dean’s surprise, the rocks and stumps and things were still there, although lichen and mushrooms were growing on them, and leaves had blown into their fire pit.

Cas began to sweep the debris out of the way with his feet, and Dean joined him, a bit unsure as to what they were doing this for. Then, his friend pulled out a box of matches.

It only took a few minutes for them to get a decently- sized fire fed off of dried leaves and twigs. They sat on a log and stared at the flames in silence for a few minutes, until Cas said,

“Dean, I miss being younger.”

“Cas, we’re not old yet, buddy.”

His friend sighed. “I mean, I miss when my brothers weren’t at each other’s throats, I miss when my mother wouldn’t shoot Balthazar dirty looks if he went out in clothes she deemed to bright, or too gaudy, or too whatever. I miss sneaking off with Sam and Gabriel to beg sweets off the shopkeepers in town. I miss when everyone turned a blind eye to Uriel and Samandriel sneaking candles so they could read in the night. I miss when Raphael actually smiled, and Hannah and Anna could actually dream of their own futures.”

Cas had always been a deep thinker, and he and Dean had had many such conversations. But something about this one just didn’t ring true. “Cas, man, what’s going on? What’s all this about?”  

When Cas looked up Dean was shocked to see tears in his eyes. In all the years he’d known his best friend, Castiel had only cried a few times. Once, when the family had to put down an old, faithful horse, when he’d fallen out of a tree, and the first time they’d gotten seriously drunk. Cas had leaned against Dean and sobbed into his shoulder for a reason Dean still didn’t know. But he was crying now.

“War is coming. You said a soldier came to your house to request your father’s services as a blacksmith? Well, one came to my house too, only they asked for my eldest brothers. They’re enlisting Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, and Raphael. He said they would be emergency cavalry, whatever that means.”

“Cas, I am so sorry. They’ll be alright, they’re tough as nails. Besides, I bet Luce and Gabe will be back home before you know it. The army can’t keep those two in line forever, no one can.” Dean attempted to add a bit of humor to the situation. It wasn’t the best idea, but it was how he coped.

This time, it worked, just a bit. Cas giggled, wiping his eyes on his coat sleeve. “Yeah, you’re probably right. They’ll be begging us to take our troublemakers back.”

‘I’m always right, Cas.”

“Sure you are, Dean.”

…

“My God, have you two been out here all night?”

Those were the words that Castiel woke up to. He blinked a few times, and lifted his head off of Dean’s shoulder, where he’d fallen asleep the night before. Wait…

John Winchester was glaring down at him. The older man was atop his horse, and had a rifle slung over his shoulder. “Well, boy? Have you?”

“Yes, sir.” Cas always felt inexplicably nervous around Dean’s father. He couldn’t imagine living with the man. “We went out for a walk, started a fire, and I suppose we fell asleep.

“Castiel, I’m going to give you some advice. If you value your future, and I know your parents raised you to, you shouldn’t spend so much time with people like Dean. You must know that he’s a-”

He wasn’t going to listen to this. “Mr. Winchester, your son is a good man, and he’s my best friend.” Cas met the man’s eyes, a challenge in his gaze.

“Fine.” Winchester snorted. “Tell him, when he wakes up, that he’s expected at home.” And with those lovely words of farewell, Mr. Winchester spurred his horse forward and trotted off into the woods, probably in search of some sort of animal to kill. Cas glared after him, and waited until he couldn’t hear the sound of hoofbeats anymore to shake Dean awake.

“Hey. Hey, wake up, Dean.” His friend stirred slightly, let out a groan, and proceeded to bury his head in Cas’s neck. “Dean. Come on now, your father just passed by. He told me to tell you you’re wanted at home.”

The magic words had been spoken. Dean’s eyes flew open, and any sign of sleep disappeared instantly. In a heartbeat Dean was on his feet, brushing dirt and plant matter off his clothes. Cas stood slowly, and stretched, popping a few of the bones in his back. Sleeping upright on a log would give you stiff pretty much everything.

They walked briskly through the woods, leaves crackling under their boots and dewy grass brushing against their legs when they reached the field. The sun had only just come up, and the morning was still cool. They parted ways in the lane, their goodbyes rushed, as Dean seemed preoccupied and glanced frequently into the distance.

As Cas walked home, he wondered, not for the first time, if John Winchester wasn’t all that he appeared to be to the public.

Unfortunately, the attitude of most of the people he knew was, “What happens behind closed doors stays behind those doors and between family.”

…

Sam was waiting when Dean opened the door. He rushed forward and hugged Dean tightly. “I was so worried, man. You didn’t come back from Cas’s house last night, and I didn’t want to tell Dad, but he asked me and I couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse. Where were you two, anyways? Gabriel told me both of you were missing this morning.”

“Cas and I spent the night in the old spot in the woods, where we used to go when we were kids? It was an accident.” Dean explained, patting his brother on the back.

“Yeah, well Dad said to tell you that you’ve got a long list of things to do. He wants you to re-shod the horses and clean up their stalls. And clean their tack too, along with the rifles.” Sam opened the door and waited expectantly. “So, let’s get started.”

Dean protested several times, but Sam was adamant on helping him. Secretly, he was glad of it. Without his brother’s assistance he would be facing a very long afternoon.

So while Sam cleaned and cared for the saddles and bridles, Dean put new shoes on each of the horses. His dad’s horse was standing in his stall, so John must’ve gotten home before Dean and then left again. Surprise surprise.

Re- shoeing the horses was an experience. Jess and Baby liked him just fine, and he enjoyed spending time with the two mares. Riot, however, was a completely different story. Hell, he wasn’t even in the same genre.

Riot hated Dean, end of metaphorical story. The horse snorted at him when Dean approached with his tools in hand. Carefully, Dean lifted his right foreleg and gingerly pried the old shoe loose. When Riot showed no signs of being about to kick him in the face, he proceeded.

The next half hour was incredibly tense, and Dean stiffened whenever the grumpy stallion made a sound or even twitched his tail. The minute he was done with Riot’s shoes, he led the horse to the little paddock where the other two were. He immediately ran to the opposite side of the fence, about as far away from Dean as he could get.

Sam was finishing up with the tack. The kid was always so careful with it for some reason. Dean suspected it might be a source of pride for him. He tossed a pitchfork in Sam’s direction. “You’re cleaning out the stable.”

His brother looked up. “Nuh-uh. Nope. I wasn’t the one who fell asleep in the woods with my friend. I’m not the one who has to deal with the consequences.”

“And you’re also not the one who had to re- shod that menace that Dad calls a horse.” Dean retorted.

“Riot’s great, he just hates you.”

“That horse threw you when you were ten, don’t you remember? You broke your arm.”

“Whatever. Let’s settle this like men.”

A minute later, Dean headed into the house, chortling. “I am the rock- paper- scissors champion, Sammy! Have fun cleaning!”

Their dad kept three rifles in the house. One for each of them, should the need arise, Dean supposed. They’d never used the weapons for much except hunting. Dean opened the little trunk they kept the weapons in, and grabbed the two remaining guns.

Like he said, they hardly used the weapons, and they had a good coating of dust and something that was blotching the metal. He sighed. This might take a bit longer than he thought, but it still beat mucking out the horses’ stalls.

Turns out whatever those little blotches were, they were stubborn sons- of -bitches. Dean was still scratching at them when Sam came back inside, his boots considerably dirtier than they were before, and smelling like hay and something much more unpleasant.

“Still at it?” He asked, wriggling out of his dirty shoes.

“Yep. Whatever this is, it doesn’t want to come off.” Dean replied, now resorting to scratching at it with his fingernail. “Ha!” he crowed, the last bit of whatever it was coming off the barrel of one of the guns. They left behind faint discolored spots, but that was fine.

Sam snorted as he dropped his coat on the back of a chair. The air was really getting cooler. They might be in for a cold winter this year.

The sound of the door slamming against the wall made them both jump. John Winchester was back from wherever he’d been. Singer’s Tavern, probably.

“Sam! Dean back from his little jaunt in the woods yet?” their father called, before he saw both of his sons. “Ah. You are. Good, I need to talk to you.”

Freakin’ excellent.  Dean just loved good old conversations with his father. Not like they usually ended in them throwing insults back and forth at each other, and maybe punches. That had only happened twice though, and both times did not end very well.

Sam took that as his cue to leave and slipped out, muttering something about meeting up with Gabriel.

“Now, I told the Novak boy, or I tried to, before he cut me off.” John snorted. “Sassy kid. But I’m warning you, Dean. Any more mistakes, and we won’t be able to cover them up. Magistrate’s gonna be after you, boy, and I won’t do a thing.”

Oh. So that’s what this was about. Dean winced a bit; he hated bringing up these memories.

His dad continued. “It’s not my fault you’re a bloody sodomite.”

There was that word. Dean hated that word. And his dad never failed to bring it up every time they had one of these conversations.

Dean had kissed a fair amount of women, which wasn’t exactly smiled upon, but the one time he kissed a guy, a boy named Aaron, in a back room at Singer’s Tavern, that was when someone had to stumble in. Bobby and his Dad had walked just in time to see it.

Bobby actually hadn’t minded all that much, and just told Dean not to kiss people in his back rooms. John, on the other hand… Well.

“...so don’t you dare get any ideas in your head, boy. Dean? Dean, you hear me?” John prompted, dragging Dean out of memory lane.

“Oh, um, yeah. Yeah, I hear you.” Dean replied, albeit a bit absentmindedly.

“Good.”

Chapter Text

When Cas got back to his house, it was quiet. Initially, he thought that they were still feeling the aftermath of his dad and brother’s argument, but in a pleasant turn of events, it seemed that his family had decided to sleep in.  

He crept around the house, not wanting to disturb the silence. His parents were asleep in their bed, Gabriel was lying spread eagle on a couch in the library, snoring softly. Balthazar, for some reason, was sprawled on the floor behind the couch Gabe was on. Hannah and Anna slept soundly in their shared room, and so did Uriel and Raphael. Samandriel looked like he might be dead, but his chest rose and fell gently.

Fortunately, as Cas passed by the twins’ room on the way to his own, Michael and Lucifer were in their beds, facing each other as if they’d dozed off mid-conversation last night. Cas sighed. His family was at peace again.

Cas’s room was near the top of the house. Most of his siblings’ rooms were, with his parents on the ground floor. It had a window that faced the lane, and on a clear day he could just see the Winchester’s home and beyond that, flickers of the sea.

It was still decently early in the morning, so he slid his boots off and collapsed onto his bed, staring out the window at the sky. Years ago he’d angled his bed so he could look at the stars as he fell asleep. Cas had long held a fascination for the heavens, and he and Dean would sometimes sneak out to the cliffs to look at the night sky. Cas could recognize several constellations.

He woke up some time later to the sound of someone pounding on his door. Rolling over, he groaned. “Come in.”

Balthazar practically threw open the door and came sauntering in. “Good morning, Cassie! You sure slept late. By the way, Mom wants you downstairs so you can explain why you never came home last night. Sammy came by earlier to ask about Dean-o, by the way. Gabriel told us you two went out to the woods- guess he wasn’t as drunk as I thought.”

His brother was one to talk- he smelled like whiskey and his hair was sticking up, a side effect of passing out on the floor.

Shit. His mother would be furious to find out he’d spent the night in the woods. Cas sighed and pulled himself out of bed, shuffling along the floor in his stockings and yesterday’s clothes.

They passed Raphael on the stairs. Their older brother shook his head at Cas, but his lips twitched slightly. “Glad to know you find this so amusing, Raphael.” Cas grumbled.

The rest of his siblings had cleared out. Except for Anna and Samandriel, the youngest two. They were huddled outside the dining room, and giggled when they saw Castiel. Balthazar patted him on the shoulder and slipped away.

Naomi Novak was terrifying. She didn’t look intimidating, but she made up for it with her stern glare and serious manner. Some of her children, namely, Michael, Raphael, and Uriel, had inherited these traits. When Cas came in, she looked up from the cup of tea she was stirring and gestured for him to sit.

“Castiel. Do you mind providing a better explanation for where you were last night than the one Gabriel gave me?”

Here goes. Cas took a deep breath. “I fell asleep in the woods with Dean. We went out walking last night and made a fire. We were talking for a while, and we must’ve dozed off. Mr. Winchester woke us up this morning.”

His mother sighed. “Castiel, I thought you boys grew out of this foolishness a long time ago.”

Chuck, who’d entered the room just in time to catch the last sentence, spoke up. “Hey now, I don’t think it’s too foolish. They’re young, and it’s not like they did anything awful. You didn’t do anything awful, did you, Cas?”

Thank god for his father. “No, Dad, we didn’t.”

“See, Naomi? No harm done. Next time, just don’t fall asleep. You could’ve started a fire, you know.” Chuck gave him a smile, and left again, probably looking for coffee. His father did love his coffee.

Naomi looked a bit put out that she hadn’t gotten to lecture her son on the shortcomings associated with falling asleep in the woods, and picked up her tea, sipping at it and somehow managing to convey pure disappointment in that simple action. Another one of his mother’s many gifts.

Anna and Samandriel looked a bit let down to find out that Cas hadn’t gotten yelled at by their parents, but were distracted when Chuck offered to read them some of his newest work.

He ran into Uriel on his way back upstairs. His elder brother was emerging from the parlour, a book in his hand. Uriel liked literature; he and Hannah, who were closest in age, often spent a lot of time reading and arguing about their favorite books.

“Castiel, I heard about what happened with you and Dean. You like him, don’t you?”

“Of course, Uriel, he’s my best friend.” Cas replied, confused, but not without some trepidation.

“I know, little brother.”

His siblings were a strange lot. This statement was further confirmed when he noticed what his eldest brothers were up to at the top of the stairs.

Lucifer was balancing on the handrail, while Michael looked on, reminding his twin that this was a bad idea and he was sure to get hurt, but nevertheless helping Lucifer maintain his balance. It culminated in Michael gently shoving Luci forward.

The second oldest Novak sped down the banister, whooping. “Hiya Cassie!” He reached the bottom, unscathed, and hopped down. “Come on, Mike! It’s fun, and safe! Loosen up for once!”

Michael looked offended by the last statement. Cas watched, amused, as his eldest brother stiffly climbed on top of the rail and carefully pushed himself forward. Michael let out a short laugh as he slid down and hopped down, brushing nonexistent dust off himself.

Once he was finally back in his room, Cas changed out of his old clothes and put on a fresh pair of pants and a shirt. Because his mother was a stickler for propriety and neat dressing, he also put on a waistcoat.

He wondered if Dean was around. Hopefully, he hadn’t gotten into too much trouble with his father.

“Hey, Dad, I’m going out. I’ll be back before dark, is that okay?”

Chuck looked up from the page he was reading aloud to Anna and Samandriel. “Sure, Castiel. Just make sure you really are back before dark, or I daresay your mother will be apoplectic. And so will I.” he added, smiling.

“Where are you going, Castiel?” Samandriel asked, cocking his head to the side.

“He’s going to court Dean.” Anna said matter of factly. “They’re courting.”

Cas felt his face turn bright red. “No, we’re not, Dri. Don’t listen to Anna, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

His younger sister frowned indignantly. “I do to! Hannah told me all about courting someone. She says that you spend a lot of time with them and you go romantic places with them and you really really like them! And you always spend a lot of time with Dean, and you go to the ocean and the woods and stuff! So you’re courting!”

Chuck tapped Anna gently on the shoulder. “They’re not courting, sweetheart. It’s against the law.”

Anna and Samandriel’s faces screwed up in confusion. Cas didn’t want to stick around to hear any more of this conversation, so he practically bolted to the door.

Inias snorted when he saw Cas, and he fastened his horse’s saddle and took off.

When he got to the Winchester’s house, he was surprised to see Gabriel’s horse, Kali, was grazing in a pasture with the family’s horses. He let Inias in, and knocked on the door.

John Winchester opened the door.

Dammit.

“Hello, Mr. Winchester. Is Dean around?” Cas asked politely. The man squinted at him for an awkward few seconds, then stepped back with a sigh. “He’s upstairs with Sammy and your brother.”

Cas headed up the stairs. Mr. Winchester hadn’t told him exactly where they were, but the boys made a habit of using the house’s attic for their own purposes.

“Cassie!” Gabe cried when he opened the door. The three were sitting in a circle on various objects. They were playing cards.

“Cas!” Dean’s eyes lit up, and he smiled at his friend. “Come on, man. I really need your help- these two are absolutely wiping the floor with me.”

“It’s true.” Sam informed him. “Dean has absolutely no poker face.”

He laughed and sat down beside Dean, leaning over his friend’s shoulder to see his cards. “Okay,” he whispered in Dean’s ear, “you’ll want to put these two down next.”

Chapter Text

The next few days passed in relative peace. There were no more callers from the army, no trouble was stirred up, and life in and around the town continued as normal.

Then it all went to hell. The army started setting up tents on the land of a larger farm twenty or so miles away from the Novaks and the Winchesters. More and more redcoats started coming in.

And then Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, and Raphael were packing their necessary things and saying goodbye. Mike and Raph were stoic as always, Luci was scowling, and Gabe looked just a bit nervous. There was a lot of hugging and then they were riding off.

Though the camp was within a day’s riding distance, they were required to stay there in case of...something. No one really knew what and those in charge certainly weren’t telling. At least they would be allowed to visit and there were always letters.

Sam and Dean were invited to say their goodbyes to the departing Novak brothers as well. Gabriel had given Sam a quick hug and patted him on the shoulder, saying “You’d better write to me, Sasquatch.”

Sam has promised to write. Dean, meanwhile, had been standing next to Cas, and shook the four boy’s hands.

Now, nearly an hour after they’d left, Sam had gone home, but Dean and Cas were still at the Novak house.

Cas was lingering outside his brothers’ rooms, looking sadly at the closed doors. The house would certainly be quieter now that two of its main troublemakers were gone. He took a breath and turned to Dean, and smiled as much as he could manage. Which wasn’t really very much, to be honest. “What do you say we go to Singer’s Tavern?”

It was a bit early in the day for that, but at least the place should be mostly empty. Dean grinned at him. “It’s always five o’clock somewhere, isn’t it Cas?”

They set out to town not ten minutes later. Thankfully the ride wasn’t a long one, and soon they were entering the tavern, shouting a “nice to see you too” in response to Bobby’s gruff, “Hey, idjits.”

Sitting at a table in the back with two cups of whiskey before them, the boys discussed anything but the seemingly impending war and Cas’s missing brothers. And everything was okay. It wasn’t great, of course, how could it be, but it was okay.

Until another patron entered the tavern. He was clearly already drunk, and since he had some bruising around his temples, he’d probably been thrown out of another establishment for fighting. And it was pretty clear he wouldn’t mind picking another. He sat down at a table in the center of the tavern and nursed a drink, shoulders hunched and glowering at anyone who came near. Even Jo, Bobby’s stepdaughter, who was almost like a sister to Dean and Sam.

Dean got up briefly to go and get some more drinks for him and Cas, and apparently got too close to the guy, because he stood up and glared down at him.

Now, Dean was a pretty tall guy. It was rare for him to find that many people taller than him, especially outside his own family (John was just a bit taller, and Sam-well, he didn’t want to talk about it). But this man was probably around Sam’s height, if a bit shorter.

And he was really hoping to avoid a fight. It wasn’t like he actively sought them out. Not all the time, anyways. But as the guy looked at him like he was ready to start swinging, Dean drew himself up and prepared to kick this man’s ass if need be.

He was just stepping around when tall guy reached out and essentially swatted him. The motion had a surprising amount of force behind it, and Dean staggered a few steps in the opposite direction. After regaining his balance, he scowled at the man and swung his fist in a swift uppercut.

Unfortunately that was when a group of redcoats walked in. And some pretty high ranking ones too, if the embellishments on their uniforms were any indication. The guy who seemed to be the leader of the little group walked up to them, but Dean didn’t see. The newcomer grabbed Dean by the shoulder and threw him to the ground.

As Dean blinked on the floor, he saw Cas had suddenly appeared by his side, looking down at  him with worried blue eyes. And Bobby in the background, looking two seconds away from storming over. Most importantly, though, he saw the cocky smirk of the redcoat who’d thrown him down in front of him.

“Fighting isn’t a very becoming feature, you know.” The man said, inspecting his fingernails and looking at Dean like he was no better than the (probably nonexistent) dirt beneath them. “Didn’t your father ever teach you any sort of public conduct?” At this point the guy he’d been fighting with had gotten his drunk ass out of the tavern as fast as he could.

And because Dean had no sense of self preservation, he grinned up at the soldier. “He taught me to never let the other guy get the last punch.”

Evidently that wasn’t what the redcoat wanted to hear, because his smirk quickly turned to a frown. “And what is your father’s name, boy?”

“John Winchester, sir. ”

“Yes, I know him.” The man mused. “Well, expect a visit from me sometime soon, Mr . Winchester.” With a nod in Bobby’s direction, and a smile at Cas that could be described as terse at best, the man and his group of lackeys headed towards a table on the other side of the room.

Cas helped Dean to his feet. “Are you alright?” he muttered under his breath, shooting a glare at the group of men.

“Yeah, Cas, I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.” Dean brushed dust of his clothes and gave Bobby and Jo a quick wave goodbye. It was probably best to stay away from the soldiers.

Back on their horses, they elected to continue on through town, stopping by a bakery to buy three rolls (Dean usually got one for Sam- they were a childhood favorite of his). The rest of the day was spent in the usual spirit of Dean and Cas- which was to say, wandering wherever their whims took them, and accidentally unleashing a few chickens from their cages, much to the annoyance of their farmer.

They parted ways in the lane at sunset, and Dean rode the rest of the way home. He gave Baby a pat on the nose and headed into the house. “Sammy! Sammy, I got you one of those rolls you like…” he trailed off when he saw his father and the British soldier from the tavern standing in the parlour. Sam was nowhere to be seen.

“Dean.” his father all but growled at him. “This gentleman has been informing me that you apparently make a habit of getting into tavern brawls with drunken strangers.”

The soldier gave John a simpering smile. “I had the pleasure of meeting your son today, Mr. Winchester. And as I was explaining to you, I think he might benefit from being part of the Royal Army. Of course, he would be paid for it, and that pay would be sent straight to you and your other son.”

Dean couldn’t believe his ears. He looked from the soldier to his father, sure that this couldn’t be happening. His heart skipped a beat when John said,

“That sounds like a wonderful opportunity for Dean. When do you want him at your camp, or wherever it is that you are?”

“Tomorrow evening would be ideal. Best for him to meet his new comrades and get used to his new life.”

That was the last thing Dean heard before he spun around and raced back out the door. Not even bothering with Baby, he sprinted down the drive and out into the lane, racing towards the Novak house as fast as his legs could carry him.

He pounded on the door until it was answered by Hannah. “Dean? What are you doing here? What’s the matter?” She stepped aside and gestured for him to come in. “You look… well, you look bad. Did something happen?”

At this point the other residents of the house had been alerted to his presence. Balthazar came down the stairs, with Uriel and Castiel following close behind. Chuck walked in from another room and frowned slightly.

“Dean?”

Cas’s voice brought Dean back to earth. He lunged at his friend, falling into his arms and burying his head in his shoulder. Cas gently patted his back.

“Mr. Novak, can I please stay here tonight?” Dean’s voice, already quiet, was further muffled by his friend’s clothing. Cas relayed the message to his father.

Ten minutes later they were lying in bed, and at Castiel’s gentle persuasions, Dean told him everything that had happened. At first, he was quiet, and then he simply pulled Dean close and whispered things like “It’s going to be alright” and “You’re going to be okay, we’ll be okay” over and over into his hair.

Sure, when the sun rose the next morning he’d have to face this new problem, but for now he was content to just lay in bed with his friend, listen to his comforting words, no matter if they were true or not, and enjoy this closeness while it lasted.

Chapter Text

Dean woke up the next morning with his face buried in Cas’s chest. There was sunlight gently streaming through the window, and he blinked in the brightness. Cas was still asleep, one of his arms draped over Dean and the other lying between them. He was content, or at least, he was content, until the events of the previous day came back to him.

Next to him, Cas stirred. He yawned, and settled back onto the bed. “G’morning, Dean.” It seemed that he too remembered what had happened yesterday. “Hey. It’s going to be alright.”

Downstairs, there was a gentle rapping at the door. Distantly, they could hear Naomi saying, “Good morning, Sam. Yes, your brother is here. Oh. Oh, yes, I see. Of course, I’ll go get him for you. Please, come inside.”

Cas and Dean descended the stairs. Sam was standing in front of the door, a small bag clutched in his hands. When he saw Dean, he smiled. “Hey, Dean. Hi Cas. I- I brought your things. Dad says he expects you gone by noon, by the way.”

“Sammy!” Anna and Samandriel came racing up to the younger Winchester. He grinned at them.

“Hey, Anna. Hey Dri. How are you guys? Keeping your big siblings in line?”

They ended up staying for breakfast. Something told Dean that his father wouldn’t really care if Dean came home to say goodbye or not. And besides, he was going to miss Cas something awful. Best to cherish these moments before he might be sent off to die.

All too soon, they were out in the courtyard. Sam had brought Baby with him, and they were making a few last minute adjustments to her tack. Really, it was more like stalling. At last, there was nothing else that could be done, and it was time to say their goodbyes.

Dean shook Chuck’s hand, as well as Uriel’s. Balthazar must’ve been a bit drunk, because he gave him an enthusiastic hug and a pat on the back. Anna and Samandriel hugged him, or rather, his legs. They were just a bit too small.

He hugged Cas hard, for a good few minutes. Dean felt tears welling up in his eyes, and made his friend promise to write letters. Cas gave a short laugh, and told him that Dean not to worry; there would be no shortage of letters from him.

“Besides, hopefully you’ll be with Gabe, Mike, Luci, and Raph. We’ll be able to keep up with all five of you.” Chuck adds.

When he says goodbye to Sam, a single tear escapes his eyes. He hugs his brother, and tells him to be safe, and to take care of himself and their dad, of course. Sam promises, and they both pretend that their eyes aren’t wet.

Reluctantly, he mounted his horse, his bag slung over one shoulder. Dean looked down at the Novaks and his brother assembled in the yard. “I promise I’ll try not to die. And I’ll write as soon as I get to the camp.” He wants to say “I love you” but the words get stuck in his throat.

Spurring Baby forward, he gallops out of the yard and towards the British camp. At this rate, he’ll arrive by sundown, just like the asshole soldier told him to.

He did not get to the camp at sundown. He got to the camp in the middle of the night because he’d taken roughly three wrong turns and had to ask for directions.

Dean trotted up to a pair of soldiers standing a little ways away from the rows of neat tents. They paused in their conversation and looked at him expectantly, if not with a fair amount of annoyance.

“Hi. So if you could tell me where to find a pompous git, he’s the one who insisted I join this army anyways. I should probably tell him that I’m here.”

One of the soldiers snorted. “That would be Colonel Roman. Probably him, anyways. There are lots of pompous gits in this army, brother. Anyhow, you can find him if you go up to the big ol’ farmhouse. They’ll have a place for your horse too, and a spot for you to sleep.”

“Thank you.” Dean dismounted, leading Baby by the reins through the rows of tents. There were fires every four or five tents, with men clustered around them, drinking or talking, mostly both. The farmhouse was a big beautiful old building, painted white with a black roof and matching shutters.

A boy who was probably eleven or twelve ran up to him and offered to take his horse. Dean agreed hesitantly, and only after he promised to take good care of her.

The minute he opened the door, someone called, “Colonel Roman, your new recruit made it.”

And not thirty seconds later the soldier who’d managed to turn Dean’s life upside down in less than a day was standing in front of him. “Glad you finally made it, Mr. Winchester. Now, I think we have some other new arrivals that we can put you with. You should know them; they’re from your hometown. Second row, ten tents down.”

Dean followed the simple directions, and when he arrived at (what he hoped was) the right tent, he rapped cautiously on the post. From within, the sounds of conversation stopped. “Uh… hey, my name is Dean Winchester, and I’m supposed to be sharing a tent with you guys, according to Colonel Roman.”

“Dean-o?”

Gabriel threw back the tent flaps, grinning. “Welcome! Come in, come in. Guys, look who it is!”

Inside the tent, Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael were all sitting on cots, but they looked up when Dean came in.

“You can sleep on the cot back there. Of course, this means two of us have to share now. I vote Mike and Luci. Who’s with me?” Gabe says, flopping down on one of the beds.

“I nominate Michael and Lucifer too.” Raphael adds. “They shared a bed all the time when they were little, anyways.”

The twins grumbled about it but eventually agreed to share until they could possibly squeeze in an extra bed.

Dean went to sleep on his new (rather uncomfortable) bed, his bag safely stowed underneath, listening to the sounds of the camp and the four Novaks next to him. It could be worse, he reflected. It could be far, far worse than this.

It was far, far worse than he thought it was. Next morning, the sound of a bugle woke him at the crack of dawn. As he rubbed sleep from his eyes, the Novaks were climbing out of bed and pulling on the various bits and pieces of their uniforms.

Rather belatedly, Dean realized someone had placed a neat stack of folded clothes on the end of his cot. The signature red coat lay on the top.

The clothes weren’t a perfect fit but they were close. He suspected someone had taken a rough estimate of his measurements.

Ten minutes later they were standing in rows outside their tents. Dean stood next to Raphael, mimicking the other’s stances. The older boy gave him a subtle reassuring pat on the back, which was rather unlike Raphael, but Dean appreciated it nevertheless.

Colonel Pompous Git, aka Roman, came strutting down the center of the rows. He looked down his stupid nose at the soldiers assembled before him. His cold dead eyes lingered for a particularly long time on Dean.

Dean was fully prepared to stare back, until Raphael stomped down on his foot. He dropped his eyes to glare at him.

“You won’t make it long here if you keep acting like that, Winchester.” Raph hissed as soon as Colonel Git moved on. “Show at least some small amount of self preservation, why don’t you?”

The rest of the day was spent with Dean learning the general day -to -day life in a camp of the Royal Army. Long story short, he hated it.

There was no actual fighting to be done, because they weren’t officially at war. Instead, it seemed that most of what they did was essentially drill and posturing. They marched down a field, they marched back up the field. They practiced loading, shooting, loading again, and shooting again.

At least there was food. Dean could make better food, but at least he didn’t have to worry about paying for this.

And, he got to see his Baby. Once it seemed that all the soldier-y stuff for the day was done, Gabe mentioned that they had pretty much the rest of the day, and asked if anyone wanted to go riding.

So the four Novaks and Dean collected their horses. The weather was nice, and Dean was tempted to urge Baby into a gallop and ride off into the sunset.

But since that would probably get him shot for desertion or something, he kept to a trot and rode beside Gabriel.

That night, he wrote his first letter to Sam.

Dear Sammy,

This place isn’t too awful. Gabe, Raphael, Michael and Lucifer are here. I actually have to share a tent with them, which is okay, I guess, except Raphael snores. You know who’s here? This guy who I’ve decided to call Colonel Git. He’s the one who made me come in the first place.

Nothing has actually happened yet, so I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know that I haven’t died yet. I miss you, and home. But that also means I don’t have much to tell you.

Anyways, I guess I’ll say goodbye now. I’ll be sure to stay safe so I can come home as soon as possible. Take care of yourself, and Dad too. Love you bitch.

-Dean

He put the letter aside to give to a messenger the next day. Looking around, he saw the other boys sitting together composing a letter to their family. Dean picked up another piece of paper to write a letter to Cas.

Dear Cas,

I miss you. I miss you a lot, man. Remember the guy from Singer’s Tavern? He’s here too. He’s still a dick. Your brothers are fine, by the way. I’m in their tent. We’re all okay. I hope we get to come back soon.

-Dean                                                                                                               

Short and sweet, right? Anyways, Cas would understand.

Chapter Text

Hope you guys liked it! Leave feedback? ;)

Dean got letters back three days later. Sam’s read,

Dean-

I miss you a lot. It’s really quiet around here without you, since Dad’s gone a lot now. He’s started to actively work at his shop for once, since another soldier came by and told him needs to start working double-time. Also, I think that Jess misses Baby. She seems kind of sad.

I’ve been spending a lot of time with Cas lately, but it’s not the same without you here. And without Gabriel, we don’t really have anyone to play cards with. Anna and Samandriel don’t yet know how to play, and Balthazar wins every. single. time. Uriel doesn’t like cards much, neither does Hannah.

Anyways, we’re all okay at home. You’d better not die, or I’m going to find a way to bring you back so I can kill you again. I love you too, jerk.

-Sam

Cas had also sent letters, one to his brothers and one to Dean. The latter read,

Dear Dean-

I miss you a lot too. It is far too quiet around here without you. I hope that man isn’t giving you any trouble. Somehow, the fact that he’s still a dick isn’t all that surprising. I’m glad that you and my brothers are together. You can look out for each other, I hope.

I think I’ll be seeing you sooner than you think, if everything goes the way I hope it will. Do not worry about the rest of us back home, we’ll be okay. Stay safe until I see you again, alright?

-Cas

He didn’t much like the sound of Cas’s last few sentences. Of course he wanted to see his best friend again, but the way Cas worded everything made it sound just a bit ominous. But since childhood, one of things that they’d always had in common was their matching reckless spirits. There would be no point in trying to stop Cas now, Dean could only be there for him in the aftermath -good or bad- of his decision.

Lucifer clapped him on the shoulder, shaking him out of thoughts of letters and home and worry. “Come on, Dean. We’ve got places to be.”

Dean spent the next hour with his boots planted in the mud, drilling over and over, steady lines of fire hitting the trees that stood opposite an empty field. He tried not to wonder about what it would be like when he actually had to do this for real.

That afternoon, Dean got put on guard duty with the man who’d greeted him the night he came to the camp. His name was Benny Lafitte, and he and Dean got on like a forest fire. Dean told him all about Sam and Cas, and Benny told him about the girl he was in love with, Andrea.

Nothing happened, which was probably good, because Dean and Benny paid very little (read: no) attention to what was happening, or rather potentially happening, around them. A battalion on horseback could have ridden by and the two would’ve been laughing so loud they wouldn’t have heard a thing.

When his shift ended, Dean wandered back towards his tent in search of the Novaks. Benny was going back to his own tent to sleep, but Dean was feeling restless. It was too late to leave the camp on a ride, but maybe he could convince Lucifer or Gabe to go on a walk around the perimeter- they’d be more inclined to bend rules a little anyways.

Outside the tent, the four brothers were sitting around a small fire, passing a bottle of some sort of spirit around. Dean sat next to Michael, who, shockingly, took a deep swig from the bottle and passed it to Dean.

“Oh, let me be free, let me soar on Heaven’s wings.” Michael hummed. Lucifer looked up, and added another line.

“Let me touch the sky and dance on the breeze.”

“What song is that?” Dean asked. He’d sung his fair share of drinking songs, but that was a new one.

“It’s an old family lullaby.” Gabriel explained. “Our mom sang it to us when we were kids.”

Honestly, Dean couldn’t really picture Naomi Novak singing any sort of lullabye, but he hadn’t grown up with her (well, he spent most of his childhood around her and her family, but…).

“That’s nice. My dad sang one that he called, ‘Shut Up Dean and Get Your Brother to Stop Crying’” Dean joked.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the other sounds of the camp around them. The bottle was passed around a few more times, until they reached the bottom and there was no more alcohol, and the fire was burning out.

Also, they were kind of drunk. Michael and Lucifer were holding a whispered conversation with one another, complete with some very dramatic hand gestures. Gabriel was snoring into Raphael’s shoulder, while the older boy started intently at the dying fire, periodically snapping back to reality and then zoning out again.

Dean was starting to think about going to bed when two new figures came up to their campfire. One of them looked a bit familiar, and he squinted up at the newcomer. The other person cleared their throat.

“He requested to be put in your tent-so here’s your brother. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

“Heyyy.” Dean slurred. “Brother. Welcome. You wanna go to bed? Cause I’m tired and I think I’m drunk, so I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Alright Dean.” The newcomer who he still couldn’t quite make out replied.

After the newcomer roused Gabriel, Mike, Lucifer and Raphael, the six headed inside the tent. The twins immediately collapsed onto their bed, fast asleep. At least Gabriel and Raphael took off their boots and coats first.

“We don’t really have another bed, so you can share with me if you want ‘till we get you one.” Dean explained.

He wiggled underneath his blankets, and waited for the newcomer to join him. “G’night.” he whispered, before his eyes slid closed.

“Goodnight Dean.” the other whispered back.

…

The next morning, a bird was singing outside of the tent when Dean woke up. He stretched, and then rubbed his head with a groan. Hangovers sucked.

Rolling over to the other side of his bed, he let out a grunt of surprise when instead of more blanket, he bumped into another person sleeping next to him. They stirred, and rolled over to face Dean.

If he hadn’t been sleepy and hungover Dean would have jumped out of his bed in shock. The person next to him was the last one he hadn’t expected to see in this place. And, honestly, the last person he’d ever want to be in this place.

“Cas?”

Chapter Text

Needless to say, when the rest of the tent’s occupants woke up, Castiel received the lecture of a lifetime. Not only was it from his four oldest brothers, but Dean too, who, unfortunately, did not look nearly as excited as Cas had pictured him being when he had put this plan into motion.

Actually, his parents and the rest of his family would be finding out about his absence right about now. He’d left the moment he was certain every person in his house was asleep, and had ridden all night.

So his entire family was probably disappointed in him right now. Great. He pulled on the uniform he’d been given upon his arrival, fastening the buttons on his red coat, and tugging on his boots. Michael and Raphael were still fuming, but Gabe and Lucifer seemed to have accepted his presence, for better or worse.

Dean had welcomed him with a hug as soon as he’d finished telling Cas what a crazy idea this had been.

Almost overnight, it seemed that the weather had decided to waltz of the Cliff of Decent Temperatures, because when they stepped out of the tent, there was a light coating of frost on the trampled grass, and the wind bit at his cheeks. Next to him, Dean shivered a bit and pulled his coat a bit tighter around him.

“Come on. Let’s go get some food, and then we can find out what we’re meant to be doing for the rest of the day.”

Breakfast consisted of a cup of tea, some bread, and oatmeal. All things considered, it was actually quite good. Cas couldn’t help but laugh at Dean’s face as he sipped at the tea. Sugar was in short supply, and he knew that his friend only drank his tea with copious amounts of it.

Today, it seemed, they had nothing much to do. Gabriel went off on his own, presumably to get up to some small mischief, Michael and Lucifer were going on a walk, and Raphael pulled out a book and sat on a dry log, leaving Cas and Dean to figure out how to occupy themselves.

Cas suggested a ride, and Dean happily agreed. In the stables, it seemed that Baby and Inias were pleased to see one another again, and, obtaining permission to leave camp (“Hell yes!” Dean had exclaimed, from a safe distance of course) the pair trotted down a small dirt track leading into a nearby copse of trees.

Though the time for the leaves to turn had mostly passed, and the overnight cold had caused the rest of them to turn limp and brown, the woods were still beautiful. Dead leaves skittered across the path in the light breeze, and the bare silver branches reached up to the blue sky overhead.

“Why did you decide to come down here, Cas? You could’ve stayed safe at home. We might get killed, you know?” Dean asked, after a lull in their conversation.

“I couldn’t just leave you to do this alone. We’ve been together for a long time, haven’t we, Dean? All those stupid things we’ve done over the years, we’ve done them together. And if you think that I’m going to let you do this, the most stupid thing either of us has ever done, by yourself, then you’ve got another thing coming. I can’t let you win, not at this point.” He offered a small grin, hoping to lighten the mood.

Dean barked a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess we have. I’m still going to beat you in this race, though.”

Cas frowned. “What race? Dean, I don’t think there’s a-”

He stopped talking as Dean spurred Baby forward and took off further into the trees, cackling loudly as he charged ahead. Cas laughed too, and urging Inias into a gallop, followed his friend.

They returned to camp an hour later, just in time for them to be put on guard duty. Apparently, Colonel Git was expecting some other important officer or something, and he wanted everything in the camp to be perfect.

Since this was his first day in the camp, and the army in general, Cas had no idea what gate duty entailed, but it seemed Dean did, for his face fell when they were given the assignment. He dragged his feet the entire way to their post.

As they arrived, there was another man leaving. He waved to Dean, who waved back. “See you later, brother!” The man called.

“Who’s that?”

“Benny.” Dean explained. “I had gate duty with him once before. It’s pretty boring, just a heads up. We’ll be here for a while.” With that, he clambered atop a fence post, his gun propped against the wood.

And indeed, it seemed that Dean was right. They spent the next hour and a half standing there, was the sun drew closer to the horizon and the shadows began to lengthen. Cas shivered in the dying light- why couldn’t the sun stay up just a bit longer when they needed it most?

“You cold, man?” Dean’s concerned voice drew his attention over to his friend, who had hopped down from the fence.

“No.” Cas resolutely pretended he hadn’t just shivered again, and turned to watch the road for any sign of someone approaching.

“Dude, you just shivered. Do you want my coat? I mean, I’m not sure if you can fit it over your coat, but you can wrap it around your shoulders or something.”

“Dean, I have been here for one day compared to your, what, nearly a week? And even I know that you need to be in proper uniform. We’ll be lucky if you make it a month without doing something to get kicked out.”

They bickered about silly things for the next ten minutes, and almost didn’t hear the steady sound of multiple hoofbeats approaching until one of the horses gave a loud snort. They looked up just in time to see a group of...ten? Twelve? It didn’t matter.

The party drew to a halt outside the gate. The leader, or rather, the man who Cas thought was the leader, spoke up.

“Hello, boys. Lieutenant Crowley. Step aside, will you? Places to be.”

Based on the mutinous look in Dean’s eyes, he already didn’t think much of Lieutenant Crowley. In his defense, Cas too hadn’t much liked the other’s manner. He had a distantly smug aura, like he knew something you did not, and had no intention of telling you.

Technically, their shift was over once the Lieutenant arrived, so Cas and Dean grabbed their guns and headed back to the camp, looking for the next poor schmuck who had to stand by the gate for a few hours.

Back at their tent, the other four Novaks were looking rather grim. They were gathering loose ends around the tent, bits of paper, pens, a few bottles of ink. Cas looked around at them in confusion.

“What are you doing? Why are you packing all your things?”

“You’re not considering desertion, are you? I mean, Lucifer I know you might, but Michael? Raphael? That doesn’t sound like you guys.” Dean added. Lucifer stuck out his tongue at him.

Gabriel sat up from where he’d been lying on the floor, rummaging around under his bed. “We’re marching for a new place tomorrow. Guess you guys didn’t hear the news. The first shot’s been fired. We’re officially at war.”

Chapter Text

It had been maybe half a day and Dean was already sick of marching. He didn’t get to ride because they’d commandeered every horse that belonged to someone who ranked less than a colonel. And since Dean was a foot soldier, Baby was stuck somewhere in the back pulling artillery. Dean was not allowed near the artillery anymore. It was a long story and one that he most certainly did not feel like sharing thank you very much. 

The only- and he meant the only- good thing that came out of marching was that he was next to Cas and the other Novaks. That was a bit of a mixed blessing, though. Cas was great. Cas was always great. The problem was the silent argument that Michael and Lucifer had been having for the past mile and a half, and Gabriel making rude gestures at ever. single. commanding officer whose back was turned (which was actually kind of funny). 

Raphael probably felt the same way Dean did, based on the expression on his face that was somewhere between agonizing pain and a suppressed desire to scream very loudly. 

That night, they marched into a small town sometime around midnight. They walked through the streets, past dark and silent houses, the only sign of occupation being the soft noises of horses and cows and other farm animals, and the occasional twitch of a curtain as a curious person peered out their window. 

Finally, finally, (it had been exactly one day but Dean was already sick of marching) they came to a stop before a field on the outskirts of the town. Colonel Git and Lieutenant Crowley wheeled their horses around, and Git/Roman shouted for them to set up camp. 

As soon as Dean and the Novaks got the tent ninety percent upright and all of their cots set up,  (still not enough for all six of them- Michael and Lucifer complained colorfully about this) they collapsed onto them and fell fast asleep, their aching feet forgotten in the face of exhaustion. 

In the morning, it was raining. Not a pleasant rain, but a torrential downpour like the sky itself was wrathful. Dean stuck his head outside and was promptly greeted with a faceful of rainwater. As he wiped his eyes, thunder boomed overhead, as if he was being warned not to try that again. 

As the day slowly progressed, they fixed their tent, because it “wasn’t up to standard” according to an irate Colonel Git. Michael disappeared for a few hours around noon, and he came back looking like he’d seen a ghost. In one of his rare moments of brotherly concern, Lucifer sat him down on a cot and prompted him to explain what had happened. 

“I was sent to patrol an area maybe three miles west of here, and it was fine, because it’s mostly forest out there. But the forest ends, and there’s a steep slope that leads into a clear area. There’s an encampment of colonial forces down there. From the looks of it, they outnumber us. I mean, they’re definitely ragtag, but strength of numbers.” Michael trailed off, shaking his head. 

He looked genuinely… scared. Dean had never seen Michael scared. Not even when they were little and Lucifer told them ghost stories that had had him and Cas leaving candles burning by their bedsides for a week. 

“It’s going to be fine. We’ll all be fine. We’ve got training, and superior weaponry. Besides, at the first sign of real battle, I’ll bet they all turn tail and run back to their farms.” Lucifer reassured his twin, but there was a flicker of doubt blooming in his eyes as well. 

Raphael was pacing. There wasn’t much room for pacing in the tent, but he was doing his best. “Don’t-” he shook his head. “nevermind. Lucifer is probably right. Most of them have never been on the receiving end of a bullet.” 

“Neither have we, Raph.” Gabriel said quietly. “Neither have we.” 

Chapter Text

Hey everyone. So I know it’s been a long time and I’m sorry. I have some bad news, well, I suppose that depends on how you take this. 

This is probably going to be the last thing I write for a very long time. I hate to say it, but life and my mental health got in the way, and until I start doing better, I won’t be posting. 

But I promised I wouldn’t abandon the story and you guys are gonna get the ending whether you like it or not. 

A quick summary of what happened during the war: 

John Winchester dies. Sorry. The house gets set on fire during a battle that strayed a little too close to home. 

All of the Novak siblings survive. Raphael and Uriel run a bookstore. Balthazar moved to France and is having the time of his life in the royal court. Hannah became a nurse during all of the fighting and discovered medicine and helping others is her calling. Anna and Samandriel are still too young to live outside the family home. Michael works as a lawyer in New York and Lucifer lives with him, and he turns a blind eye to his twin’s slightly shady dealings. 

As for Cas, Dean, Sam, and Gabriel, well you’ll just have to click the next chapter button to find out what happened to them. 

Chapter Text

A house somewhere in the county, early morning. 

Dean woke up the same way he always woke up. The sun, streaming in through his useless curtains. He yawned, rolling over in bed. 

Beside him, Cas shifted. He stretched slowly, then settled back down. “Good morning, Dean.” 

“Morning, Cas.” He grinned at the love of his life. 

After the war, they, along with Sam and Gabriel, had moved away from their family homes. It wasn’t like Sam and Dean had anywhere to go back to anyways. 

So they bought a house out in the middle of nowhere, started a small farm, and that was that. It wasn’t a grand life, but it was a good one, and they were together, and that was all that mattered. 

Dean was ready to go back to sleep, but it seemed there were other things in store for him that morning. The door burst open, revealing Sam and Gabriel clutching chipped mugs of coffee and a plate of what looked and smelled like burnt biscuits. 

“Good morning to you, lovebirds!” Gabriel crowed. Cas groaned, and Dean laughed a little. 

“Good morning yourselves. Now hand over the food, I’m starving.” 

And all was well.