A freshly ploughed field, outside of Erythrae, Boeotia region, south of Thebes, 338BC

The night passed quickly, and all too soon they were putting their tunics back on, and joining the rest of the band on the outskirts of Thebes, on the outside of the huge wall that ringed the city. There, they found their leaders looking anxious and talking urgently with one another. Dean's urge for combat started to rise.

"Is there a threat coming?"

"Yeah, your brother's erastes is coming for you," one of the other soldiers sneered. Dean tried to ignore him.

"Be realistic, Dean will be running away to his brother soon. Especially if there is someone marching to steal our riches. Cowardice runs in families, after all."

Dean's hand drifted to his side, before he remembered that he was weaponless. And that he had promised Castiel he wouldn't turn on another member of the band. Instead, he looked to the group of men who were sniggering at the comments.

"Do you have something to say to me?"

"Dean," Castiel urged quietly. The other soldiers laughed.

"Of course you'd pick an eromenos who was afraid of conflict, even if he does aim a spear well. I suppose it's fitting, cowards have to stick together."

"Enough!" One of the commanding officers broke off their conversation. "This band isn't made up of isolated pairs. We all have to work together to protect everyone. If any of you are looking for a reason to create cracks in our system, you can leave and go be a regular hoplite, or a shepherd, or a slave to the King. I don't care. When you're in the band, you stick together. Understood?"

Dean and the other soldiers eyed each other with dislike. He waited for them to agree with their captain, to leave, because he wasn't going to be the first to back down. They didn't either.

"Come on, we need to work together. Rumour has it that a regiment from Argos is on the way. So gear up, we're going to meet them before they even see the walls."

The other soldiers departed, and Dean let Castiel lead him away. They helped each other with their armour, making sure their leg covers were strapped on, and their arm covers, before taking their shields, spears and swords from the armoury and affixing their helmets. Dean gave Castiel a quick glance to make sure his armour was secure, and noticed that he still didn't fill it out well, was still slight compared to most of the broad chested men in the band. Castiel was watching him through the gap in his helmet.

"Are you okay, Dean?" He asked quietly.

"Uh-huh." Dean grunted.

"We can talk. I'm here when you need it."

"I know, Cas." He made to walk away, to get in line, but Castiel placed a hand on his chest, holding him back.

"Don't let those other soldiers get to you. I'm sure Sam and his erastes had their reasons for running away."

"I don't want to talk about it, Cas. I just want to kick some Argos butt."

Castiel didn't drop his hand.

"A good soldier doesn't fight from a place of anger, Dean. I have to rely on you just as much as you have to rely on me. I didn't make a mistake, did I?"

Dean set his jaw.

"I'd prefer to focus on what's ahead, than feel wounded by others opinions. They don't know Sam. And you're right, you have to rely on me, so instead of worrying about how everyone else is acting about my brother, lets focus on what's coming."

Castiel pursed his lips, and followed Dean into the line of soldiers, somewhere in the middle of the troop. They stood to attention as their commander-in-chief stood above them slightly on a boulder, his voice projected across the fifteen rows of ten soldiers.

"Once again, Thebes is under threat from jealous Grecians. Argos who thinks their brute force is enough to award them the fortunes our people enjoy. Who think the descendants of Heracles, of Cadmus and Perseus are weaklings, spoiled and embroiled in incestuous relations. Who liken us to Oedipus more than any of our other ancestors, and do not know of our strength, our nobility, and our wisdom. Let us go and meet this army, and remind them again that the sacred band alone has thwarted even mighty Sparta twice, when their numbers far outweighed our own. That their bullying nature will not make us pushovers. Let's show them the real heart of Thebes."

All the soldiers lifted their spears and roared in response, then followed the chariots that led the way. The marched with perfect synchronicity, though they weren't silent. Someone started singing an old song based on the Iliad, of Agememnon and Menelaus, the dispute with Achilles, and the fall of Hector. When they came to the part about Patroclus sacrificing himself for Achilles, everyone joined in, even Dean and Castiel. It was perhaps unsurprising that they would all identify with that part of the epic story, of putting their own lives on the line for the man they were closest to.

When the song moved on to the woes of Odysseus, Dean nudged his shield against Castiel's spear arm.

"Sorry, for earlier."

"It's okay." Castiel murmured back. "You're allowed to be upset by it."

"I think I'm only upset because," Dean heaved a sigh. "I haven't seen Sam since he was eight and I was twelve, when Michael took me for my training. I don't really know him anymore, you know? The kid I knew was smart and level-headed, but who knows what went on when he grew up without me? Who knows what his erastes is like. And I'll defend him because he's my brother and I love him, but I don't know if he went willingly, I don't know if he's being held against his will. All I know is he's out of reach now, no way to contact him, to convince him to train and maybe join the band."

"Perhaps someone knew his erastes that you could send a messenger to? After this fight?" Castiel said softly. "They might know more than the information the messenger was sent with. Your parents might know what came of him. But I'm sure he's okay. If he's half the man you are, he'll take care of himself, I'm sure."

"I'm hoping. It doesn't help when the others tell me my worst fears."

"Are you two planning to run away like your brother did?" A voice spoke clearly behind them.

"I didn't know Castiel's brother ran away," Dean said over his shoulder.

"Funny, Dean. But that humour won't help when you soil yourself at the first glimpse of the other soldiers."

"Said the guy walking behind me."

"Maybe it's not that," the other man's eromenos spoke up. "Maybe they're planning to run away together before Dean's too old for the army. Cheating Castiel out of the chance to have kids of his own."

"My only plan right now is to fight the Argives and protect Dean. Maybe you should focus more on your abilities and strategies and less on the shame you think Sam has brought to his brother." Castiel stopped the conversation. Dean nudged him again with the shield, and focused as the song reached the point where Odysseus met the Cyclopes.

It didn't take long before they came across the Argolis army. At least a thousand Argive soldiers stood across a field used for growing barley from them. They stopped together, and waited for the other soldiers to make the first move. Dean's fingers flexed on his spear, and Castiel adjusted his grip on his shield. At the command, they brought their shields in front of them, their eyes the only vulnerable part of their bodies as they watched from above the top curve of their shields. Another command, and they shouldered their spears, feet planted in preparation for running or throwing. The Argives began to run towards them, and with a final command, they moved too.

Castiel was fast on his feet, but he kept pace with Dean, running side-by-side across the freshly-ploughed field. They were some of the first to reach the fray, despite being somewhere in the middle of the pack. They worked well together, Castiel using his shield to protect Dean when he stabbed a man in the stomach with his spear, Dean jabbing his newly bloodied spear into a man's eye when he came too close to Castiel, Castiel using his sword to cut a man's head clean off his neck when he tried to come at them from behind. They worked back-to-back, cleaving their way through the Argolian ranks, leaving wounded and dying men in their wake. The rest of the band were faring nearly as well, though a couple of soldiers were sporting abrasions from near misses with spearheads before too long.

Eventually, just before nightfall, the leader of the Argives called a truce with the Theban commander-in-chief. He promised to call off the attack, and called for his men to attend to the wounded members of their ranks. The three men who had been battling Dean and Castiel with their swords moved off, as though they hadn't just been fighting for their lives, and Dean stepped closer to his lover. Castiel was breathing heavily, but smiled widely through his helmet. Dean didn't have the energy to smile, but the adrenaline still coursed through his veins, mingled with bloodlust. He wanted to finish off the three soldiers they had been battling, to complete the task he felt they had undertaken.

"You did well, Dean."

"We did well," Dean corrected, breathing heavily. "But not well enough."

He eyed a small group of Argive soldiers passing by them, and readjusted his grip on his bloody spear.

"Dean, they're innocent," Castiel said under his breath. "Maybe you should clean your spear?"

Dean walked up to the nearest corpse, and wiped the entrails onto the fallen man, smearing blood across his pallid skin to boot. He followed Castiel back to their army, to hear the feedback that their leaders had to give them. The other soldiers were also gathering around, some holding the armour of the men they had killed, others wiping their swords or checking the damage to their shields. Their commander began to speak.

"Well done, men. We were outnumbered at least three-to-one, and yet each and every one of you showed the valour and honour that comes from working in the Sacred Band of Thebes. Each and every one of you proved that your bonds are the strongest thing on the battlefield, stronger than armour, shields or spears. You should all be proud of the service you have done to our noble city. When we return, the king has arranged a feast for us. We will go back, clean up, make sacrifices to the gods and enjoy the food they have provided. In formation now."

Dean made to slip back into his row, but one of the generals gestured him forward. He moved, Castiel in tow, and stood closer to the front than before. There were renewed mutters behind him, behind Castiel, but he refused to turn his head, refused to let the others soldier's jealousy and egos take this moment from them.

"Well done, soldiers," the general beside them said as they began the walk back to Thebes. "Your efforts haven't gone unnoticed. At least twenty more kills than the next pair, and you probably would have gotten to Argos in the night and taken their citidel if given the chance."

"Thank you, sir," Dean nodded.

"This eromenos of yours, he's good for you. Better than that Benny," the general continued. Dean was surprised that he didn't feel a stab in his gut at the mention of Benny. That he didn't feel anything but pride over Castiel.

"I think so too, sir." Dean carried on staring ahead, not wanting to meet either the general or Castiel's gaze.

"Well, if you both keep this up, you'll be promoted in no time. We all have an end date in this army, and we're always looking for new leaders."

Castiel knocked his spear gently against Dean's shield. That was the thing that made Dean swell with pride, and gave him the renewed energy to get home.

Back in the citidel, the band were invited into the king's home for their feast. A hundred cows and goats had been slaughtered in sacrificial ceremony, and there were piles of bread, olives, figs, strawberries, grapes and cheese to go with the beef and goat meat, and the kings best wine had also been shared. Dean and Castiel were made to sit with the generals, away from their usual comrades. Castiel had leaned into Dean's arm, whispering into his ear to think of it as an honour of war and not a promotion, and Dean knew it was his lover's way of telling him to remain humble throughout the meal, to not take it as a certainty that he would get a promotion, that he and Castiel would get the benefits that go with such a ranking.

It was easier, being in the company of the higher ranking gentlemen, those who were comfortable in their pairings, who had no desire to gossip. Only one man brought up the subject of Sam, and though Dean bristled it was only for a short time.

"You're the soldier whose brother ran off with his erastes?" The man sitting directly opposite Dean asked. Under the table, Castiel squeezed his knee.

"Yes sir, at least, that's what they tell me." Dean spoke stiffly.

"Is he like you, this brother of yours?"

"I haven't seen him since I was twelve and he was eight, sir. But the boy was smart and not very impulsive."

"Enough of the sir," the general waved a hand dismissively. "We're equals at this table. And shame, if he was anything like you, he would make a fine soldier."

"Perhaps he still would have, but he made his choice," Dean ground out.

"Don't read me wrong, soldier, I'm saying you're smart, you're strong, you make good choices. It's a shame you don't know if he does have those qualities. I'm sure he didn't run through fear." The general looked at Castiel. "Is he always this terse?"

"I'd call it defensive," Castiel said cautiously. "Protective. Which makes him a fantastic erastes, because he'll always do that first on the battlefield."

Dean tucked his head down and tore a strip of meat in his teeth, feeling his cheeks flame. The compliments from the general he could take with a pinch of salt, but from Castiel it was like flirting, and Dean had the urge to take him to their bed and show him with his body how those words made him feel.

"He almost killed another soldier for you, didn't he?" The general became more interested in Castiel. "When they fought for their eromenos?"

"Passionate," Castiel supplied. "Strong feelings and a lot of physicality. Which is surely something you noticed when we were fighting against the Argives, or else we wouldn't have been invited to dine at your table instead of our bench."

The general grinned, and looked back at Dean just as he raised his head again.

"You picked a good one. I look forward to seeing what the two of you accomplish."

Back in camp, Dean and Castiel hurried to the bunks to get a secluded one for themselves. They undressed hurriedly, and came together almost violently, their chests slamming against each other, Castiel grabbing Dean's head and pulling it right back, devouring his mouth with his own. Dean wrapped his legs around his lover, and they fell back onto the bed, almost thrashing against each other, lips exploring whichever bit of skin their could reach.

"You were so hot on the battlefield," Castiel murmured. "Like a god, like Zeus possessed, like Perseus or Heracles fighting the monsters sent to try them."

Dean mewled as Castiel sucked on the skin just below his ear.

"That why you want me, huh?" Dean panted. "Not just for all those pretty words at dinner."

"Meant all of them. Let the other soldiers say what they want, I know you better than them."

"Have known some of them five years at least," Dean pointed out, as Castiel lowered his mouth onto Dean's nipple. "Oh holy Apollo!"

"Um," Castiel sat up, instantly cooling the mood. "No proclaiming to gods, please."

"You sucked my nipple, what was I meant to do? Besides, Apollo's cool with men together. He's done it enough."

Castiel bit his lower lip.

"Mmm, true. But I want to be the only thing on your mind."

"Just on my mind?" Dean smirked, and rucked his hips up slightly. Castiel rolled his eyes.

"Are you going to stop proclaiming to the gods?"

"Yes. Besides, invoking their names can be a bad idea anyway. I'll just scream your name."

"Good." Castiel kissed the groove between his collarbones. "Show me why you almost murdered that man for me."

"Show me why you didn't want to fight against me, even when you wanted me," Dean teased back.

"I'm a lover, not a fighter," Castiel murmured against his skin as he kissed his way down. "And I'm a pretty good fighter."

Dean wound his fingers into Castiel's dark locks, massaging his scalp as Castiel's mouth conducted a thorough investigation of his body. As his lips worked up Dean's shaft, and his tongue ran over the tip, Dean sank his shoulders into the animal skins that lined the bed, and rutted hard into Castiel's mouth. Castiel hadn't lied, despite the little time they had known each other, he knew Dean well, knew how to make his body beg for more, how to make his bones tremor and knees knock. It was new, but Dean knew then that it was love. The beginning of it, perhaps, but no one was ever going to compare to Castiel for him.