18 Years Ago

It was the best day ever for Dean Winchester. As much as it would be for a six year old going on seven. He had no hesitation in approaching his parents' bed while they were sleeping. He only gave them the mercy of a few seconds of sleep before he proceeded to jump head first onto the middle, crawling up to the top.

The impact made them both wake up, groggy head slowly rising to peer at Dean. John rolled over underneath the comforter and grumbled to himself. That didn't deter the boy in the slightest, his tiny frame now snug between them. His mother sat up first, her blond curls looking golden in the sunlight coming from the nearby window. She planted a kiss on her son's forehead.

"Happy birthday, baby."

Dean gave her a wide smile before hugging her around the waist. The movement finally made John wake up and turn to the other side.

His mother kept his attention on her. "We have a very fun day planned for you, Dean."

"Mary," said John chidingly before Dean could respond. "...I thought I told you we were keeping it quiet. Just a small party with the four of us."

"Oh...have a heart, John. It's his birthday. He should be able to do what he wants."

"You're spoiling him, Mary," said John, but there was nothing reprimanding about his tone. He lightly poked Dean's stomach. "Seven, huh, boy? Almost two digits. You're a big boy now. We're not going to be treating you like a child anymore. We already got one on the way. That makes you the big big brother now, right?"

"Right!" Dean shouted cheerily, placing his hand flat on Mary's protruding abdomen where he felt a small kick in response from his sibling. "I'm gonna be your big brother, Adam."

"Good. Good boy. Now run along and get ready."

Dean practically bounced off the bed as he scrambled for the door. Just as he hit the doorway, he nearly bumped into a much smaller frame. A boy with brown hair in Buzz Lightyear pajama set, clutching a teddy bear by the hand.

"I wanna go too!"

"You're too young!"

"But Dean!"

"No, Sammy! You're not allowed!"

Dean was full of excitement as he dashed for his room and pulled on clothes. He heard his younger brother voice a whiny complaint to his parent and just shook his head. Maybe he was being a little selfish...but this was a promised day. His mother had promised him this would be the activity they were going to do on his birthday. Just the two of them.

And she came through on that promise as she took his hand and led him to the car. She gave Sam a parting kiss and blew one to her husband now in the garage.

What Dean couldn't anticipate was the stormy weather the closer they got to the intended campsite. She had checked the weather for their home area...not this one. She gave Dean a small smile before turning on the windshield wipers and continuing onward.

And Dean...was just being Dean. He found sitting in the backseat more a luxury than a punishment or a sign that he might have been too active. He kept poking his mother, despite her distraction to get her to look behind at him.

"Mommy's very busy, okay? Mommy's trying to concentrate. Please do me a favor and just-"

Dean saw the flash of headlights in the window before it happened. It was the clearest part of the memory...because it was the very last seconds he saw his mother alive. The force of the metal impacting their car caused the boy to slam into his car door, the windows shattering and slashing through his body. They were immobile for less than a microsecond before the car toppled over completely.

He remembered reaching for her...reaching for his mother, the glass having cut into his eyes. He felt around, a hand patting through cold concrete that was wet with a strange warmth. The crushing reality could not settle onto him, because his mind simply could not comprehend it...could not - would not understand it. And he was almost thankful then...that the darkness closed in around him.

He woke up in the hospital...

Screaming.

Wanting to die.

The paramedics pried from his hand something he had been unconsciously holding before they arrived. A single golden locket around his mother's neck that contained a photo of the Winchester family.

Present Day

Dean was clutching the same locket in the palm of his hand, the chain hanging loose between his fingers. He stared up at his ceiling of the secluded barracks, just watching each blade on the fan above him move until it gave him a worse headache than the one he went to bed with.

He covered his face with both hands and let out a loud sigh. He had long since past the age where the memory would tear him from his sleep and wake him screaming in rage and despair, having to be held down and sedated sometimes.

That didn't deplete the horror of it...the shock. The pain that drove him down a dark path for so many years because he simply did not care any longer. It did not matter that his family had never and would never view him that way.

It was how he viewed himself. A murderer. The boy who murdered his mother...and his unborn brother. The weight of it caused his chest to ache.

It was why the Initiative began...and unfortunately was also the reason why Agent Trenton was present on base. The death of his mother and brother had Dean Winchester labeled as delinquent. No amount of military discipline applied by John...or even consequences given by the school districts he had had to go through...could phase him.

Dean found himself eventually, through extensive mental excercise and attempts to calm his mind. It worked...to keep him functioning, to keep him playing the role of the obedient Sergeant, the obedient son and the protective brother. It worked to keep the memory from suffocating him...forcing him down the dark path again.

He didn't know why he remembered it now...but he replaced the chain in his pocket, holding onto the warm metal to keep himself grounded.

Regardless of the reason why...someone deserved an explanation. He sat up from the bed and retrieved his jacket, making a beeline for the door.

Before Dean could get off the last step, he stopped, retracting his foot to stand. A moment was taken while he drew out a loose cigarette and stuck it between his teeth, lighting the end. Fumes rose from the end through a cloud of smoke.

"That's a really bad habit," Trenton finally made a move to his right, leaning off the outside barrack wall to slip into Dean's line of sight.

"Look, I don't know how to tell ya this...but I'm not that into you. So if you could just lay off my dick for a while, that'd be great," said Dean, taking care to let his last drag shroud Trenton almost completely in smoke.

Trenton ignored the snide remark and hardly flinched at the dismissive action. "Going to that boy? That...Novak boy?"

Dean's eye twitched just a little, but he moved to step onto level ground, satisfied with just ignoring this stubborn prick for the rest of the night.

Trenton stopped him again, moving to stand behind Dean. "Broken people attract broken people. I can get on board with that. Doesn't mean it's healthy...or that it'll last. In the long run, that is."

"I think you're divin' too deep into a simple job, Agent," Dean should have been more offended. The simple statement indicated just how perceptive the agent had been thus far. He didn't let it raise his hackles, however. Not yet. "I know you're here to investigate me. Pretty sure my personal life is off limits."

"Actually...it's not," said Trenton. "Your personal life matters, Sergeant. Everything matters in these types of investigations. "

"All I can tell you...is that I'm a different person now. What I'm doing here. Whether you approve of it or not...is irrelevant. But what I'm doing is not illegal...it's not wrong."

"You didn't really see 'right' from 'wrong' when you were robbing convenience stores and restaurants with your buddies," Trenton shrugged lightly. "Taking your daddy's guns from his study and threatening people point blank with them."

It felt like Dean was saying this for the hundredth time. "...That was still a long time ago. I told you that. It's different now. And I had my reasons for that...phase. I'm still not doin' anything wrong. You won't find any of that here...so you may as well pack your shit up and put a passing grade on your inspection papers, agent."

Trenton just looked at Dean for a long time with an unreadable expression. It was his job to investigate, to see motive and wrongdoing. That was what Dean thought, and in that moment he wondered if that was what the agent was doing, just waiting for something subtle. An eyetwitch, a tremble maybe. Something to indicate that Dean was incorrect.

"...We'll see. Let's you and me talk about your 'grade' after this program ends," Trenton smiled. For a moment, Dean thought he was going to ask for a handshake. But he just turned and started walking away, peering at Dean over his shoulder as he went. "...and I'm really rooting for your boy. Novak. I hope he makes you proud."

Dean just watched as he was left behind, the agent slinking away in the darkness. He was left alone to debate the other man's intentions - wait - he didn't want to do that at all, really. So he just crushed his cigarette underneath his boot and kept walking to his destination.

The ride back to base had to be the most awkward Castiel had ever felt. Midst feeling so awkward, however, he was feeling a heartbreaking sense of dread that was threatening to make him numb to all else. Dean's words kept echoing in his mind.

What we're doing isn't right.

His eyes stung and it took all the effort in the world to not break from the sheer weight of what had been said. He didn't want to be one of those people that had grew so dependent on someone else that he found himself crumbling without them. It wasn't right. He should have been able to stand on his own two feet even without Dean.

That wasn't to say the man hadn't helped him...hadn't had a significant impact on Castiel's growing confidence. He did. But he shouldn't allow the rejection of him to feel like this He didn't want to let it. All the while they were heading back to base, Castiel was mentally berating himself and trying hard to work on a mantra for himself starting with how he didn't care...that it didn't matter and he could handle the rest of the Initiative time he had left.

Sleep was hard that night. Even though it wasn't even technically night. He had no energy to do anything else for today...except lie down, toss and turn and hope something resembling sleep happened.

He got lucky. Maybe. he was dozing off on his side, gripping a handful of his pillow and working hard to avoid throughts of Sergeant Winchester and his stupid accent telling him that they couldn't be anything...ever. He didn't want to let himself label it all as heartbreak...because they were never officially an item to start with.

Castiel wasn't in deep enough sleep to lack awareness of his surroundings completely. The sound of the footsteps approaching had him waking up...but he didn't open his eyes on the intruder just yet. Only when it was close enough that it had to be right at his side.

He opened his eyes, taking the Sergeant in at full, watching as he took a seat on Balthazar's empty bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Sergeant..."

"What happened...," Dean began, sighing a bit in frustration to find the right words. "...What happened earlier. I'm sorry...I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I didn't mean to sound cruel...or to hurt you. Or for you to think..it was your fault or somethin'."

"Sergeant, I wasn't..."

"You were...," Dean nodded without really looking at him. "You were because I've felt the same way before. Not feelin' good enough or like you matter the slightest bit. I felt it. It's not easy. It's just a really...bad spiral. You hit yours and I was hittin' mine."

Castiel moved to sit up in the bed. Dean took that as an assurance to move forward until he was kneeling infront of the Private.

"I've done things in the past that I ain't proud of. Hell, I'll never be proud of what I used to do in the past. I was a stupid kid. You told me of your past...and maybe I kinda pushed you to it. I knew you needed someone to tell...and I was glad it was me. I guess it's only right I tell you somethin' about me too. Especially if we...," Dean trailed off, uncertain how to conclude that sentence, because he had no idea how Novak was going to react or what was going to come from this. At least it would be said and done.

When Dean couldn't speak, Castiel interjected, placing his hand over Dean's. "You don't have to tell me anything that you're not comfortable telling me, Sergeant. We all have a right to our privacy. I'm sorry that I even brought up that...man on our time together. I ruined the moment."

Dean was already shaking his head. "You didn't ruin anything. I told you not to put this on yourself. It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry," Castiel murmured.

Dean smiled faintly. "I told you to stop doing that too...but...anyway. My mother...she died when I was very young. An...accident."

The word struggled on his tongue for a moment. It had been thrown around so often since it happened, yet he never once believed it. The word only came out because he couldn't rightly admit what he percieved to be the actual truth. That it was him...that he took her life.

He cleared his throat, a muscle in his jaw locking. "...When it happened, I made some decisions. Dumb...stupid...careless decisions. I went down a bad path. Things are different for me now. I'm not that dumb kid. I'm different."

Castiel paused, taking it in for a moment and eyeing the man's earnest expression, just begging Castiel for a chance. And who was he to deny him? He felt the man's hand tremble underneath his and it took a great deal of resistance to stop himself from doing what the other man had done to him to calm him down. He wanted to touch him...hold his face and wipe away that vulnerable look forever.

He let out a soft sigh and wrapped his fingers around Dean's, keeping their eyes locked. "I'm sorry. About your mother. I'm sorry you had to go through that...and I understand. I would never hold it against you."

"I'm not tellin' you this to garner pity...I hope you know that. I'm tellin' you this...because it's not easy for me either. To open up about this kind of stuff, to talk about it. My family...they never want to talk about it. They never know what could...set me off. I'm telling you because you're new for me too."

Dean placed his other hand over Castiel's, bringing it up to his lips. "And I want to give that a chance. I do. I think I need it. I need you."

It was words Castiel had never really heard before. Just three words that almost held the same weight as the deepest attachment there was. To hear it from his lips had Castiel feeling like he had just stepped onto cloud nine. He leaned in towards the Sergeant as well, their foreheads brushing.

"And I need you. I want to give us a chance too."

Unconsciously, he turned his head just the slightest, his lips brushing over Dean's cheek. He felt the man move back a few centimeters, catching his gaze. The smallest smile there before their lips met in a sweet kiss. Castiel raised a hand to thread the man's hair, nudging him to tilt his head for deeper access. Almost too soon, the heat he felt, the warmth from the other man was gone.

Dean took a breath, a tongue sliding over his lower lip. "Good. Now get some rest. You have an exam coming up. And you better not slack. Just cause we're...doin' this now doesn't mean I won't make you drop and give me a hundred."

"Come on, Sergeant...," Castiel whined, but Dean was already getting up, pinching Castiel's cheek with a chuckle before he left the barracks.