Dean could tell that Castiel hadn't really slept that night, the tensing of the man against his chest as he struggled against the nightmares that so obviously plagued him. He had awoken several times throughout the night, gasping for air and clawing at the thin, scratchy sheets of the old and lumpy mattress underneath them before Dean managed to calm him down with a warm hand on the lower part of his back, pressing gently and easing him back into some form of normal breathing.

"It's okay," Dean whispered, glancing around to make sure that they did not wake the other soldiers. Friendly or not, there was something that Dean did not trust about them. Call it Winchester's intuition, but they made his skin crawl, especially now that he laid vulnerable with his back to them in order to keep Castiel safe.

"I can't breathe," Castiel whispered as he turned in the bed, his breath just barely managing to carry his voice longer than the second word as his fingers worked deftly against the uniform, tugging and pulling in an attempt to release the not-so-tight bond from around his neck. Dean shushed him softly, reaching up and sliding his hands under Castiel's, ignoring the man's flinch as he worked the uniform loose, revealing part of the undershirt that rested against his collarbones.

"In through the nose," Dean urged softly, not even giving it a second thought as he rested his hand on Castiel's chest just gently, a sharp intake of breath pushing out his chest with the surprise of the touch. Still, it was like a soft guide, his fingers rising up and down with each breath, and a bit of color came back to Castiel's face as he continued to breathe, easing Dean's own feelings of worry and even bringing out a small smile from him.

"You feel better now?" Dean asked softly, and Castiel nodded, pressing his lips in distress before he reached up with shaking hands, working the bandage loose and letting it fall off his eyes, blue even in the darkness as he took in another deep breath, clutching a little tighter to the cloth.

"It feels cooler now," Castiel whispered, bundling the cloth against his chest and pushing himself back against Dean again, his eyes not closing as his gaze found nothing, blank but not empty. Dean found himself propping himself up, gazing down at the profile of the man's face and finding himself enraptured by the way his whole persona seemed to change with just one little bandage.

"Are your wounds healing?" Dean asked softly, gaining Castiel's attention as the man turned to look in his general direction. The cuts around his eyes were beginning to close, and Dean couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as he let his fingers graze around them - not touching them - and found that there was no unnatural heat.

Castiel had a troubled look on his face, and Dean's stomach seemed to sink in his stomach, "Dean? What happens if the guards do to us what they did to the other soldier?" Castiel asked softly, nothing but the sound of resignation in his voice, as if he were already accepting the hard and cold truth.

Dean frowned, but shook his head, lying back down and pulling Castiel back into their original position, only with one of Dean's legs hanging off the edge of the bed, but he didn't really mind, "They won't do anything to you, not while I'm here," Dean whispered, feeling Castiel's thrumming heart against his chest and hugging him a bit tighter, closing his eyes and focusing only on the feeling that pressed against him.

"Dean, you can't keep facing things by yourself. I can take ca-"

"Cas," Dean said, cutting off Castiel with a firmness in his voice that had whatever Castiel was going to say dying on his lips, "I will not let you go through that. I don't care how many times I have to take it for you. I cannot stand by and let them...I won't."

Silence spread between them, and he could tell Castiel could feel his rapidly beating heart by the way the injured soldier reached up and put his hand over the one that wrapped around his waist, squeezing tightly until Dean felt like he was losing circulation in his hand.

"I'm sorry," Castiel whispered, and Dean only sighed, leaning forwards and letting his nose brush against Castiel's neck, the faintest scent of frost and cinnamon underneath the bite of dirt and death that overlaid it.

"Go to sleep," Dean whispered, his tears leaving tracks on his face and wetting the sheets beneath, though he didn't dare make a noise or shake because he wouldn't ever consider letting himself break down when he was not alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sky was just beginning to turn orange with a tint of light when voices stirred Dean from his sleep, the words rousing him and making him open his eyes with a bleary yawn. At first, he only felt the brush of Castiel against him and leaned in a bit closer, finding comfort against the strength of the man that comforted him, and it wasn't until the smell of dirt hit his nose that he remembered where they were, and his back tensed.

He lifted his head and looked back towards the front of the cabin where a guard stood, watching with annoyance as the other soldiers forced themselves out of the bed, their tired eyes and dull emotions showing that they were already expecting this. It wasn't until the guard looked towards him that a grin split the man's face and he stalked forwards, each step that drew him closer making Dean's scowl deepen as he hovered over Castiel, shielding him from any possible touches from the man.

"Nice night?" The guard asked with a guffaw to his voice, and Dean wished he could punch that smirk right off the man's face. Still, it didn't take long for the guard to point at Castiel, that same damn smirk still creasing his features, "Wake him up. Roll call five minutes," The guard growled in slightly broken English before thankfully turning back to the front of the cabin, leaving and standing outside the front door, waiting for the appointed time.

Dean turned to Castiel, ignoring the other soldier's stares as he shook Castiel's shoulder, only to stop when he found that the man's eyes were already open, dull and grainy with dark circles under his eyes, "I heard him," Castiel whispered, waiting until Dean moved from being almost on top of him before sitting up, his hands brushing over the bandage in his hands before he held it out to Dean, who took it gently.

There was no blood, so Dean just wrapped it back around Castiel's eyes, tying it snugly into place before standing and helping the man up, keeping a guiding hand on his arm as he turned towards the front of the cabin, meeting the gaze of Winters.

"You'll get used to this before long," Winters offered, though not really with much energy. Still, it was better than Letts and Barneson, who looked like walking corpses at the moment as they stood by the door, watching as the guard nodded to another guard before turning, staring at the five of them.

"Get in line," The guard grunted, and the three soldiers moved from the cabin. Dean led Castiel after them, following their every move, and stopping at the edge of the road that stretched between the cabins where a line of soldiers already stood. A few more soldiers came from the cabins farther out, lining up as well, and only a moment later did a guard walk by, counting out to himself as he passed each soldier.

It felt like years standing on the edge of the worn, dirt path, the air not quite stifling hot, but still uncomfortable as he subconsciously rolled his shoulders, the dampness already forming on his skin as the humidity brushed around them. However, the soldiers around them seemed to perk up a little bit, and Letts even let out a sigh of relief before glancing over at Castiel and Dean.

"Rain will be coming soon," The soldier said, a smile crossing his face for the first time that Dean had seen, seeming to light up the young man's features and lighten his dark eyes just a little. Still, it quickly fell from his face as the guard that was counting walked past again, his eyes brushing over every single one of them before nodding to the other guards.

"Half of newcomers go to sand trucks. Other half go to mines," A guard grunted, standing out compared to the rest with his darker uniform, the golden stripes lining the hems of the clothing giving him the obvious appearance of being the head of the enemy group. The other guards nodded in acknowledgment before hurrying away, one guard approaching Dean and Castiel and grinning at them.

"Sand trucks," The guard said, motioning to the two of them before turning to Winters, who straightened up and didn't dare meet the man's eyes, "You guide them when there."

Winters nodded, and the guard continued on, getting out of earshot before Winters looked at them, a bit of relief on his face, "You've gotten lucky. The mines are extremely dangerous," Winters whispered, his eyes casting to Barneson, who had a forlorn look on his face, "Loading sand isn't too bad if you can make it the first few days."

"What if you don't make it?" Dean asked, though, from Winters' look on his face, he didn't really need an answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean should have known that Castiel was at a breaking point. Having little sleep last night, along with the stress and frustrations of trying to work without sight was obviously dragging him down. The heat, the heavy weight of the bags, and the relentless sun that burned the back of Dean's neck didn't make it any easier to face, and soon, Castiel was ragged, exhausted, and legs shaking with the effort of just remaining standing. Dean supported him gently, his own body screaming with the protest of moving, but his mind brushing that discomfort away as he helped him back to the cabin.

The guard following the small ragtag group of four looked bored, his only momentary interest was letting the men in and standing by the door to make sure none of them left. Dean gently set Castiel on the bed and the injured soldier fell back onto the mattress with a soft sound of relief, sweat pronounced on his forehead.

"Don't get too comfortable now, unless you'd rather starve," Letts commented, his eyes darting over to the doorway as Barneson walked in, a bit of relief on the older man's face at making it another day through the mines. He sat down, wiping at his brow with his sleeve.

"Doesn't really matter anyways. The food they give us ain't enough to keep any man alive for long," Barneson muttered, his gaze reaching his own body and staring at his pale frame as if it were a curse. Winters and Letts nodded, their own gazes averting to their own bodies. Dean glanced to Castiel, feeling a bit of relief in knowing that he still had a normal weight, and hoping that he would keep it.

"How long have you been here?" Dean asked, his voice almost hesitant as Barneson shot him a look, though it held nothing but sad resignation at the question.

"I've been here for two years now. Letts came about six months after I did and then Winters got here a month before you two came in," Barneson explained, shaking his head and flashing them a regretful smile, "Sorry kids, but you might be stuck here a while."

"That is if you don't die first," Letts muttered, sitting back on his bed and sighing, clutching at the worn mattress. Dean wrinkled his nose at the man, despite that being his same exact thoughts. He wouldn't voice them out loud, not with Castiel lying on the bed behind him.

The guard poked his head in, a scowl ever present on his face, "Go get food," The man huffed, and the soldiers worked themselves back up almost mechanically. Dean turned to Castiel, easing him to his feet and holding the shaking arm of the man and leading him out.

The walk to the larger building was awful on their already tired limbs, dragging out each step against the heat that had Dean panting and Castiel taking deep and sharp breaths through his nose. It wasn't any cooler inside the building, in fact, it felt even muggier than outside, but the sun was no longer on their backs, and Dean couldn't help but be thankful when the strangely quiet room surrounded them.

There was several soldiers already sitting at the terrible tables, each one looking as if it were to break at any moment. No one spoke, nor even looked at each other, staring at their meager food with their empty eyes. They followed the other three towards the area where two cooks stood behind a counter, one handing the men bowls of cheap rice and a piece of bread while the other gave them a cup of water each.

Dean helped Castiel get his food first, guiding the man's hands to grip the bowl and cup tightly so he did not spill before taking his own. He used his elbow, just a slight pressure against Castiel's back as he whispered the directions to him, easing him to the table that Letts, Barneson, and Winters had sat at and set his things on the table before helping climb over the rusted bench of the tables and sit on it gently.

"Can you eat by yourself?" Dean asked, rubbing at his mouth with his thumb as he awkwardly looked at Castiel. It was awkward asking, not knowing the limitations that Castiel had and not really wanting to offend the injured soldier.

"I can do it," Castiel whispered, letting his hand just barely brush the bowl and finding the bread sitting against the side, picking it up and taking a bite. Dean watched him for a moment, looking back at his food then up to Castiel before he swallowed and glanced at the other soldiers before picking up the bowl and fork, scooping some of the rice up.

He was careful not to make a noise as he dumped the rice into Castiel's bowl, putting about three-fourths of the rice in there before deeming that Castiel would have enough to eat to keep him healthy. Dean focused on eating after that, his gaze momentarily catching Winters', who arched an eyebrow at him in confusion, only for Dean to half-heartedly shrug and glance back down to his meager meal.