It was rare that Castiel Abramov caught sight of another prisoner with a pink triangle. In Dachau, there were mostly political prisoners, those who were threats to Nazi ideology. Castiel was one of the first in the concentration camp, being filed inside in 1933, the first year of operation.

His first crime, the easy to identify, was that he was Jewish.

Many in the camp that were simply criminals or political enemies of Hitler asked him why it wouldn't have been easy to just deny his religion.

Castiel always had to resist the urge to punch the inmates who asked that question.

Yeah, it would have been nice to just run away and not end up in some work camp, but it was difficult to escape when he had a Jewish last name and the family history to prove he was Jewish. It wasn't just something he could deny, because the Nazis and their brutal SS officers could trace back his lineage.

However, Castiel had two crimes. His second crime was that he was a homosexual.

According to the Nazis, he was an abomination. Actually, according to the entire world, he was a disgrace, mentally ill. The entire world didn't send homosexuals to die, though. Only the Nazis were that distasteful.

His striped uniform was always itchy. Not only was the fabric itchy, but the knowledge that he had a yellow triangle under an upside down pink triangle right over his heart scratched at the back of his mind. It was an itch he couldn't make disappear. How was he supposed to scratch a nervousness in his head? He couldn't. Not only did the Nazis hate him for being a gay Jew, but the other inmates despised him, as well. The Jewish inmates would have helped him and watched out for him like they did for the other Jews, except for the fact that he was a gay abomination. The political prisoners might have pitied him for being a Jew, but the majority still blamed the Jewish race for Germany's plights, therefore political prisoners were out of the question. Mentally ill patients might have helped, but they were always dragged away for experimentation; they never lasted long. Lastly, the gay inmates could have helped; they were always the kindest. Though, Castiel Abramov was still Jewish, so they wouldn't have helped either.

And Castiel wasn't planning on converting. Besides the fact that it was too late to get baptized as a Catholic, he just didn't want to. He valued his faith, he practiced it as much as he could. He prayed in the silence of the night where only the occasional gunshot or sobbing could be heard in the quiet, German air that reeked of cremation and sickness. He was proud to be Jewish. That part of his identity was undeniable.

More and more, though, Castiel wondered if the Nazis were right about his homosexuality being a crime. After all, believers of his faith called it a sin. Sodomy was nothing to partake in if he wanted to go to Heaven. But, then, how did they explain how God could ever deny such an ardent believer a spot in Heaven just because of something as small as his sexuality? He followed the Ten Commandments. He prayed as often as possible. So, what was he doing wrong? He was starting to think that maybe that pink triangle on his chest was the real crime, here, and the Nazis were right by trying to kill him off.

There weren't a lot of homosexuals in the camps, from what Castiel could tell. It was the beginning years of the massacres, so maybe they just hadn't dragged the homosexuals out into the open just yet. Still, Castiel would have liked to see more people like him. There were plenty of Jews at Dachau. There was a decent amount of semi-kind homosexuals in the beginning, but most of them were dead soon enough. Castiel was smarter than them, though.

While it was dangerous to be a smart, gay Jew, it had kept him alive so far. If he could just play stupid in front of the officers when necessary, he figured he'd survive.

At least, he had a decent job. He helped out the doctors in the hospital. He had been on the road to medical degree when the Nazis came to power, so he was capable of most things, just not surgeries. That helped him stay alive.

On December 13th of 1934, they were all called in to line up for roll call. Apparently, there was a new shipment coming in of prisoners, so the Nazis wanted to make sure no one was planning on escaping with the train as it'd leave after dropping the new prisoners off.

Castiel guessed maybe seventy prisoners would be coming in. He made a bet with Balthazar, a fellow Jew who worked in the hospital. Balthazar guessed one hundred and fifty, Castiel only thought there'd be seventy. The bet was a meal. Castiel really didn't want to lose a meal, but he was feeling pretty hopeful about winning Balthazar's dinner.

After roll call, he counted the prisoners coming off the train.

Sixty-nine.

Seventy.

Seventy-one.

Seventy-two.

Seventy-th-

Oh.

Prisoner number seventy-three had a pink triangle. Castiel hadn't seen another homosexual in a long time, and it was a surprise that he actually found another one like him.

Seventy-Three was attractive, too. Green eyes, messy hair, and a simple pink triangle on his uniform. No yellow triangle under it, though, so maybe not exactly like Castiel. Close enough, though.

Pain struck Castiel's heart. Why did they have to send such a beautiful person to a Dachau? It was a pity.

It was also a pity that Castiel's heart was so hardened. He was afraid of feeling again, so he shook off the pity and interest in favor of admitting defeat to Balthazar as the number turned out to be one hundred and thirty.

It really was a pity that Castiel selfishly had to suppress compassion when the children were taken away, most likely being thrown back on the train to be sent to another camp to be killed.

More than anything, it was a pity that Castiel didn't want to run out there and help when the elderly were beaten for being unfit to serve the Nazi state.

Above that, even, was that, even though Castiel found the green eyed Seventy-Three beautiful, young (probably twenty-five?), and not deserving of the inevitable fate of the concentration camps, Castiel knew he'd rather see him die than himself.

It had only been a year in the camp, and Castiel already had changed.