Author's Note: This isn't a sequel to The Request. In fact, this is another AU story set in the timeline of the Holocaust. This time I really am not lying when I say I don't know what inspired me to tackle this issue, other than the image of a young Dean staring imploringly as Castiel is taken off by soldiers running through my mind. This story is probably only going to be a few chapters, and I just want to tell you all beforehand that a bit of mature themes will be explored. I shall try to be as tame and delicate as possible, I promise.

Story Setting: This AU takes place in Europe during the late 1930's to mid 1940's. I have a very rough draft set up, so the actual dates aren't too important, though I will have a few factual events mentioned, as well as a few fabricated events to fit the story. I don't see this as being too long-possibly four or five chapters maybe.

Pairings: Eventual Dean/Castiel

WARNING: Some of the material herein has to deal with themes of genocide, prejudices, assault and a few other nasties. They will be mentioned, but I will strive my best to keep them relatively tame and will warn beforehand in the chapter(s) that include them. If anyone feels they will be sensitive to such subjects, you are free to leave and read elsewhere. Thanks.

:1:

"No." Dean said stiffly, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His parents looked at each other briefly, before turning back to look at him. His mother's eyes, usually so kind and full of laughter, now seemed darkened and stained with an inner pain.

Her face seemed to age as he stood there and regarded her, a mixture of disbelief and anger swirling in his chest. She nervously twirled the small golden crucifix that hung on her necklace between her nimble fingers, and the way her lips moved silently, Dean wondered if she was saying a silent prayer.

"Dean, please," Dean's father, Jon, said. His voice was gruff and firm, but even in his distress Dean could hear the undercurrent of worry lacing his tone. "We can't afford to do this right now. We have to think of the family. Things are getting more difficult and dangerous as time passes. Surely you've noticed this. And Sam, he's so young-"

"What about Castiel? What about his family?" Dean interrupted, his anxiety making him speak out of turn. Usually he could be counted on to be more mild mannered with all of his elders, but this-

-this was insane.

His parents were talking about moving away from their home. Removing themselves from the people they knew in an effort to escape the war and ever worsening decrees by the Germans. But if they left now, what would happen to Castiel, his best friend and neighbor?

The boy who had come to capture his secret affections the way Dean knew fervently that no one else ever would?

Castiel, whose goofy face he could count on seeing every day when they both left their homes and joined each other in the usual fifteen minute walk into town before separating to go to their respective schools. The boy with his wayward ebony hair still running wild- even when clamped under the little yarmulke caps he wore sometimes, but always on Saturdays.

His ridiculously sweet-natured friend with his nearly inhuman vivid blue eyes that would always light up in that particular way when Dean would say something funny and all Castiel could do was offer a silent grin that spoke more than his words ever could.

Castiel was easily Dean's favorite person, even if he was Jewish. Some of Dean's other friends kept warning him how dangerous it was to hang around with the Germans now stationed in their country and tightening their oppressive regime. Dean would tell them and anyone else that it didn't matter- it doesn't matter.

Castiel's being Jewish was just a part of who he was, just as Dean being Catholic was part of who he was. As far as he was concerned, they both believed in God and in Humanity and each other, so really what was the big deal?

"If we leave, we have to take the Novaks with us," Dean demanded, trying to keep the feeling of helplessness off of his face. Though his friend's family were fortunate enough to not have an overtly "Jewish" name, it did not matter seeing as all Jewish families via their synagogues had to register with the German authorities.

And as much as the Novaks were devoted to God and their volunteer work, causing them to become well known among both their Jewish communities as well as the Gentiles, there was no possible way they could escape scrutiny. The fact that as of last week Dean came out of his house one early morning to see Castiel already standing on the cobbled street waiting for him, with a very new bright, attention grabbing gold star sewn into his gray overcoat that he had certainly not been wearing the day before, did nothing to quell the overriding sense of indignation on his friend's behalf.

How dare they- how could they? Castiel was a sweet soul who usually kept to himself when he wasn't around Dean or his older brothers- he didn't deserve to have to be singled out like some kind of low life criminal. Now whenever they walked the streets or hung out in the parks, Castiel was usually gawked at, or made to feel uncomfortable when some parents spotted German officers nearby and shuffled their children away from him as if he would cause the soldiers to arrive and stir up trouble.

It wasn't fair, and Dean hated it.

So for his parents to try and convince him they should consider moving away or staying with family elsewhere was really pushing his level of tolerance.

Jon snorted impatiently, and Mary shook her head before turning around and disappearing into the kitchen.

"Dean- don't be naïve." Jon said sharply, and Dean only stared back unwaveringly. He respected his father and usually abided by his words as if they were law- but in this he could not be forced to change his mind.

Just the thought of having to leave and never see Castiel's face again- the sharp spike of pain that lanced through Dean's chest made his breath quicken momentarily.

I can't. I won't leave him behind.

"There is no way we can bring them with us. As it is, only Jews with special permits are allowed the leave the country right now. Besides- their life is here. I doubt they will want to move even if we offered."

"Then- I'm staying." Dean blurted.

His father stared at him, long and hard. Dean was hard-pressed not to squirm under his father's penetrating gaze. Instead, he lowered his eyes to his feet.

"You will do no such thing," Jon said softly, so as to not have his voice carry and be heard by his wife. But the steel behind his command could not be denied. His hand came up to land heavy and warm on the back of Dean's neck, and the teenager's eyes slid close at the small measure of physical comfort. "You belong with us, and we don't leave anyone behind. You know that."

Dean looked up at his father, this time his green eyes brimmed with sudden tears. He did nothing to wipe them away, unashamed.

"Dad… if we leave and the Novaks stay, they could die." The silence that followed with Jon's sympathetic stare made Dean's heart plummet.

Turning without thought, the boy blindly pushed open the front door and ran out.

For a moment all he could think of was, Can't leave, this is crazy, what about Castiel, and didn't look where he was going. His feet moved on autopilot over the grass now covered lightly in frost from the chilly November air. When he came to a stop and finally looked up, he should not have been surprised to see himself standing in the front yard of the Novak house.

What should have been even less surprising was the tall, lanky frame of his best friend, sitting on his front porch with his hands in his dark pants' pockets and legs stretched out before him almost casually.

Even with it being late evening, Castiel was wearing a slightly formal attire consisting of a white dress shirt and dark dress pants; his school uniform he had yet to change out of. The small tassels of his prayer shawl he was required to wear under his shirt splayed against his hips, and the bottom of his somewhat long pants bunched up slightly at the ankles of his bare feet.

Seeing the pale skin of his naked feet seemed suddenly quite intimate, but Dean didn't look away. Even with the cold, Castiel didn't see the need to wear shoes while at home. After knowing the boy for almost his entire life, his little eccentricities had ceased to cause confusion.

If anything, Dean took them in stride as the little adorable things that made Castiel all the more unique and interesting.

Castiel wasn't wearing his yarmulke, either, allowing for his sinfully messy dark hair to ruffle slightly in the breeze. When he looked up from his position to regard Dean silently with his blue eyes, the usual warmth at his appearance filled Dean's chest until he finally had to look away to get some semblance of control over himself.

Cool it, Dean, he scolded himself internally.

He should be used to having Castiel's mere presence making his heart and emotions go wild, but he wasn't. He wasn't entirely sure if he ever would, but that was one thing that the boy found he didn't much mind.

"I… uh, needed some fresh air," Dean offered weakly, suddenly remembering that his eyes had been tear filled moments earlier. He quickly lowered his face and wiped at it with the palm of his hand, before looking back up. Castiel's head was tilted slightly at an angle, a question in his eyes.

He patted the open space to his left on the porch.

"I could use some company," he offered, instead of bombarding Dean with questions of his inner conflict. His voice, such an unusual soft baritone for someone his age, was like music to Dean's ears.

As if on autopilot, Dean found himself hurrying over to his friend and plopping himself down next to him on the porch. He did not take into account how close his landing was, and ended up so close that his thigh was pressed against Castiel's hip.

For a moment, he froze, wondering if Castiel would pull away. Instead, Castel turned his head to look at him, and nudged him gently with his elbow. He kept his hip pressed to Dean's thigh, and a surge of warmth rushed in the space between them, warming their otherwise chilled skins.

Castiel turned to stare back out at the street, watching the passersby and the few horse-drawn carriages that many of the people too poor enough for cars still used. Both boys remained silent for a few minutes.

"My dad wants us to leave," Dean offered silently after a while. He glanced at Castiel's face, but the only sign Castiel heard him was the slightly clinching of his jaw, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed heavily in his throat.

"Maybe it's for the best," Castiel offered in reply after another minute of silence. Dean looked at him sharply, his brow furrowing into a deep frown.

"How can you say that?" he asked, bewildered.

Castiel turned to look at him, and the searing look in his gaze made Dean feel like he was being stared into; flayed and open.

"If you're not here, than that means you can be somewhere safe." Castiel said, as if that explained everything. And to him, it probably did.

Dean scoffed.

"Yeah- but what about you? You expect me to just up and leave you behind?"

Castiel didn't even blink.

"Yes." He said bluntly.

Dean stared.

"I don't believe you," Dean tried to say firmly, but his voice came out little more than a whisper. His friend did not look even remotely upset at the news that Dean would be leaving him behind to face the unknown alone.

"Dean-" Castiel cut himself off, before starting again. He licked his lips, and lowered his eyes to stare into his lap. Suddenly he appeared as if his shoulders were far too heavy for him to carry. "Your dad is right in wanting to get you out of here. Things are only going to get bad, really fast."

There was something in his tone that made Dean's stomach clench up so hard it literally hurt. Something knowing was in Castiel's voice, and he seemed quite hesitant to share it.

"What do you mean?" Dean said. Castiel remained silent, refusing to look into Dean's eyes. He reached out and clasped Castiel's shoulder in his hand. "Cas," Dean stressed, using the nickname he'd come up with when they were younger and he had issues with pronouncing Castiel's full name. "What do you mean, things are going to get really bad?"

Castiel turned to gaze back at the front door to his house, his face concentrated as if he was silently debating with himself. His eyes finally turned to Dean's after what felt like an eternity.

The endless raw sadness and fear that clouded his azure eyes made Dean stop breathing.

"I have it on good authority that the Germans and Polish authorities are planning to build multiple ghettos," Castiel murmured softly, as if to keep the chilled air innocent of the words he was saying. "And that when they are finished, thy're going to send all of the Jews there."

Castiel let out a shaky breath, and he suddenly reached out to grip Dean's hand tightly in his as if to anchor himself. Despite the cold, his hand was blazing hot, and Dean gripped him back just as tightly, wishing with all his being he could take all of this away and make their days warm and safe again.

It was a good thing Castiel's warm presence was by his side, too, because Castiel's next words made him shiver with a cold that had nothing to do with the weather.

"If they send us there, we are going to die."

Um... yeah. The major plot of this isn't so much the tragic environment the boys find themselves in- it's more about their bond trying to flourish. Honestly, it's still up in the air if they both survive in the end, but until I reach that bridge, I hope you all enjoy!