They were the opposites of each other. He was darknes and Steve was all the light in the world. Bucky was shadow and Steve was bright as the sun. And you could say that those thing didn't matter, that they were friends and allies and such differences were meaningles. But it wasn't just that they were in the opposite sides of the spectrum.

There was blood. Innocent blood. Bucky had spilled so much of it, so much. And yes, Steve had filled blood too. But it was different. So different.

And as Bucky sat there in the all too soft couch and watched how Steve played some idiotic modern game with everyone else, he realised it. The difference between them.

Steve never liked it. The killing. But it was necessary. Bucky moved his gaze away from the blonde and outside of the towers amazingly larges windows as a memory filled his mind.

Steve has disappeared after a fight against the nazis and Bucky was walking in the streets of this destroyed little village when he noticed an almost destroyed church and between the rubble and chaos there was Steve. Sitting and staring at the only wall that was still standing. A painting of God. Bucky stood behind him in silence.

"Do you think He will forgive us?" Steve said, his voice tired and coarse. Bucky looked the painting and smirked.

"Dum Dum swears so much, I think he can not be forgiven." He had said lightly. But Buckys smile had faded when he looked at Steve and noticed how his shoulders slumped and a sigh escaped his chapped lips. He was being serious. Of course he was. Bucky lifted his gaze from his best friend back to painting and looked at the cracked lines of the wall. Silence fell between.

"You know this is what soldiers do. Kill the enemy so that they won't kill us." Bucky tried, but he knew it was pointless. Steve always tried to find a way to win without having to kill the common soldiers, but often in vain.

"They are just men. Men with families at home. Dreams and desires. If they are just soldiers most of them got drafted wether they wanted to join or not." Steves voice grew almost painful to listen to Bucky. The quilt was too much. Steve looked at his hands, the calloused tips of his fingers.

"Have my hands always been this bloodied.." Steve whispered. Bucky turned to look at his best friend, and grabed his hands between his.

"Hey, listen to me Stevie. These hands are good. They saved me, remember? These hands might have blood in them, but only because you saved people. People who would have died a horrific death if you haven't been there, if you didn't have this blood in your hands." Bucky said, trying to find a way to look into his friends blue eyes, but in vain. Steve was just looking at their hands.

"We will end up in Hell." He whispered again and Bucky grunted. Shitfuck. He let go of Steves hands so that he could grab the guys face. He lifted Steves head, so that he had look at Bucky in the eyes.

"If you are going to Hell, well who cares? It can not be a worse place than this. And you know what? Do not worry, if you end up in Hell, I will end up in there as well. Because where you go, I go. 'Till the end of the line, pal." Bucky preached to his best friend and stared into those blue eyes, which were full of sorrow. An sad smile rose into Steves face.

" 'Till the end of the line."