Castiel's eyes drifted over his troops as they assembled before him in the mid morning sun, awaiting instruction for their final exercise. This was what it all came down to – if this went off without a hitch, they would return to base in two days with an unmarred success rate, and there was every possibility Project Hades would be officially instated. Whether or not Castiel would be around to see it was a different matter, but the inevitable fallout from his situation with Michaels was not something he was allowing himself to dwell on. At least, not today...he had a good few hours of pure panicking time to look forward to on the chopper ride home.
"Alright, gentlemen." He addressed his squad. "I don't think I need to remind you what today is all about."
He kicked at the box of ammunition by his feet, taking in the eager reactions of the young men standing before him.
"The live ammunitions drill is our final assessment task, and one of the most important. It's an opportunity for you to experience a simulated combat situation, in which you aren't getting shot at, so I want you to use this to your full advantage."
Each and every set of eyes trained on him held a fierce glimmer as he spoke.
"Get accustomed to using your weapons, and I mean really use them. They need to become an extension of you – feel how they respond, burn it into your muscle memory. You need to know exactly how long it takes you to load the chamber, aim and pull the trigger. We will be using a purpose-built training area that has been laid out not far from here, and you will stay within the parameters set out there."
"Yes sir." The recruits assented in unison.
Castiel looked at his soldiers, standing eager and capable before him, a small flicker of what almost felt like hope passing through him. Whatever happened to him and his position in the defence outfit, his soldiers would go on and fulfil their purpose. No matter what, there was a small amount of comfort and closure in that.
"Same rules as your base weapons drills will apply. I'll go over the protocols for live ammo when we get to the training area."
He gestured to the crates of ammunition and weaponry set out in front of his squad, glancing at his watch. "Ok, we have ammo to move and drones to put holes through. Let's move out."
The soldiers fell into routine flawlessly, each taking the equipment they were most capable of handling. Castiel caught Dean's gaze for a weighted second, so much he wanted to say trapped behind his gritted teeth as the younger man stared back.
This should not hurt as much as it did, being cut off from Dean this way.
But God, it burned.
Yesterday had been hell, the first day he had woken up with the knowledge that he would not be starting his day with Dean. Not being able to share that time with him before they had to go back to pretending they were nothing to each other around everyone else.
Stolen glances were all they had now. And even that would only last until they got back to base.
Castiel turned away, dropping his gaze to the ground as he shoved the emotions rising within him back into their box and turned to lead his recruits towards their destination.
The best (and only) thing he could do now was make sure that he had taught his soldiers, his Dean, everything he possibly could before they would inevitably be removed from his guidance.
Dean looked around the training area Cas had led them too, taking in the vast open space and various targets set out for them to shoot at – unmanned drones, empty shells of old military vehicles and the go ahead to blow them all to smithereens...it was the wet dream of fifteen year old boys everywhere. Hell, six years on and it was still Dean's wet dream.
Castiel had given them the rundown of how today was going to work, and instated a kind of buddy system that they would be adhering to. Dean had paired off with one of his team mates that he had come to have something of an affinity with over the duration of their months at base and the course of the field op. 'Bullseye', as he was known around base, was the closest thing Dean had to a friend within the squad, and the fact that he hated Michaels about as much as Dean did just put him that much higher up in Dean's book.
Dean watched out the corner of his eye as his nemesis prepped his weaponry, conversing with Castiel about something Dean could not quite overhear.
God he hated that, seeing him talking to Cas.
He knew his commanding officer could take care of himself. Better than Dean could take care of him, for sure. But that did nothing for the primal response that arose within him and screamed protect every time the son of a bitch got with ten feet of Castiel. Not that he believed Michaels would go so far as to get violent, not with Cas. The kid talked a lot of smack but everyone knew he didn't have the balls to back it up. But still, it got his back up every damn time.
"You ready?" Bullseye drew Dean's attention away from Castiel, nudging him in the shoulder.
Dean picked up his gear and turned towards his peer.
"Yeah, let's go."
They headed over to the far side of the training area, situating themselves as far away from possible conflict as they could, and readied their weapons.
Dean had never been more grateful to receive orders to spread out and avoid other member of his squad. This was exactly what he needed right now – a wide open space and permission to blow holes through everything without a pulse.
And it was effortless. Falling into the routine of load, aim, shoot, reload, change weapons...it all just rolled through him, out of him, like this was what he was made for. His entire world went quiet as he fell back on the skills that came as easy as breathing to him.
Time became irrelevant as he made use of every square foot of the training area with single-minded focus, thoughts of Michaels and Castiel and their imminent return to base fading to vague static in his head.
The clearing was tinged with a vague orange glow as the afternoon dragged on into early evening, and the recruits began to wind down to completion of the drill. Dean approached his final target, a sense of finality creeping over him as he loaded his pistol for the final time. The last few weeks played out in his mind as he set himself up for the shot, memories and images tugging at his concentration as he realised that it was not only the end of the field op that was approaching all too fast.
"Don't miss."
Dean jumped at the familiar voice that sounded behind him, his stomach twisting with recognition. He lowered his pistol and turned slowly to look at the shorter recruit.
"Oh I'm sorry, did I kill your concentration?" Michaels smirked.
"What do you want?" Dean sighed impatiently.
Michaels laughed humourlessly. "What do I want? Uh, well let's see...your job?"
Dean's brow knotted in frustration as he glared at his team mate.
"And what job would that be? Last time I checked Cas hadn't assigned anyone anything."
"Cas?" Michaels' eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You got a nickname for him now?"
He chuckled, clapping in mocking delight. "Oh, this is too good. You two are so far beyond fucked when we get back to base, you gotta know that, right?"
"If he loses his job because of you I fucking swear ..."
"What, Dean? What are yougonna do? You're just as screwed as he is! You really think they're gonna keep you on when I tell them what's been going down?"
Dean gritted his teeth, glaring at the smaller recruit.
"Stay. Away. From Castiel." He stepped forward. "You have no fucking idea what you're doing here Michaels. You wanna take someone down? Fine. But I'll tell you right now, I won't let it be Cas."
Michaels walked slowly toward Dean.
"It isn't Novak I wanna destroy, Winchester." He grinned. "You think I'd give a flying fuck if it was someone else Novak was banging? The only reason I give a rats ass is because I know exactly how much it's gonna kill you to watch him take the fall for this."
Dean could have sworn he felt his heart stop as his team mate smiled smugly at him, bringing every hateful, vengeful emotion within him to boiling point.
"You sick fuck..." Dean could not raise his voice above a whisper. "I'll never let you win."
Michaels tutted softly. "Dean, Dean, Dean...You already have."
Dean shook his head, desperately holding back the rage, the overwhelming sense of defeat chewing at his insides.
"No. No I haven't. Because no matter what happens, you miserable dick, no matter how this little game of yours pans out, we both know that at the end of the day...I'm better than you." He raised his chin defiantly and stared straight at the other soldier. "And the fact that you have to go to these lengths just to get noticed just proves that all the more."
He stepped in close. "Face it Michaels...even if you win this one, there are at least three people that know you had to cheat to get it. You are, and always will be, inferior."
Michaels face clouded with pure hate, the muscles in his neck straining as he gritted his teeth. Within a second, Dean was flat on his back on the ground, breath knocked out of him, pinned by the weight of the other soldier who began driving his fist repeatedly into Dean's face.
Dean shoved at him violently, trying to free himself and block the assault but the hits just kept on coming. His mouth filled with the metallic tang of blood and his right eye began to swell shut as the recruit remorselessly pummelled him into the ground, not letting up for even a second.
A vague cry sounded from somewhere in his periphery as Bullseye rushed over from where he had been shooting target practise a few hundred feet away.
He tried to prise Michaels off of him, giving Dean a few seconds respite to get in a punch to Michaels' stomach. But the recruit would not let up. He caught Bullseye in the temple with his elbow, knocking him to the ground before he returned his attentions to Dean, bringing his hands down to wrap around his throat.
The world shrunk to tunnel vision as Dean clawed at Michaels' wrists, kicking viciously, unable to throw him off.
Michaels lowered his face down within an inch of Dean's and spoke in a pained growl.
"Look at me..."
Dean scrunched his eyes shut, his vision blurring around the edges.
"I said fucking look at me!" Michaels spat. "This is what it comes down to, Winchester...You in your rightful place...Beneath me."
Dean reached out his hand that he could barely feel anymore, grappling around sightlessly until he felt the familiar weight on the ground. He wrapped his shaking fingers around his pistol and slowly brought it up to shove the barrel into Michaels side.
His brain frantically tired to connect with his body as his lungs began to give up their struggle, and with one final force of effort, Dean tugged at the trigger.
The shot sounded out through the clearing, time coming to a standstill as Michaels hands loosened around his throat, oxygen rushing back into Dean's lungs with a fierce gasp. The smaller recruit rolled off of Dean, his hand coming up to cradle the wound and he lay shaking on the ground.
The world came back into focus and Dean turned to look at the other recruit. Blood poured from his side to pool on the ground beside him, his hand stained red and all colour gone from his face as he stuttered and shook.
"Oh fuck..." Dean breathed, crawling on unsteady knees over to him. "Fuck...oh, fuck..."
He pulled his shirt over his head and pressed it against the wound, feeling the blood instantly soak through the material.
"Help!" His voice was raw and scratchy as he cried out, trying to draw attention to them. "We need help!"
Bullseye stirred where he had fallen, cradling his head as he came to.
"...What the fuck happened?" He cried out as he took in the scene before him.
"Fuck...I don't know, he was choking me...I..." Tears spilled down Dean's face as panic overtook him, his hands shaking as he tried to stop the bleeding.
"Oh my God..." Bullseye breathed, stumbling to his feet. "...I'm gonna get help...just...stay with him."
Dean nodded, pressing his ear down against Michaels' chest, straining for signs that his heart was still beating.
He kept his ear against the faint thud, listening, willing it to keep beating as the minutes ticked by.
The sound of approaching footfalls broke through his panic as he looked up to find Castiel and the other recruits sprinting across the clearing toward them.
"What happened?" Castiel dropped down beside them.
Dean could only shake his head, completely unable to speak as Castiel gently tried to pull him away from Michaels.
"Dean, I need to see the injury..." He spoke calmly, taking hold of Dean's hand and moving it from where the blood was pouring out of Michaels' side.
"Shit..." He gasped, pressing his hand against the gaping wound as he began to bark orders to the other recruits who had rushed over. They handed first aid supplies to Castiel who frantically tried to plug the wound to no avail.
Dean watched, rooted to the spot, as the life drained from Michaels' eyes. Castiel pressed his ear against the young soldier's chest, his face distorting with grief as the pulse slowly faded to a stop.
He cursed at the top of his lungs, slamming his fists into the ground repeatedly and scrubbing at his face with his hands.
Castiel looked up at the recruits who stood frozen to the spot. His voice was unsteady as he spoke, looking at no one in particular.
"...We need to get him back to base." His face was completely void of expression as he issued the orders. "Someone's gonna need to go ahead and get the gas lamps lit for when we get back with him. We're losing daylight."
The recruits took off to gather and carry the equipment back and get the camp site set up.
"Bullseye, help me carry him." Castiel sat Michaels up against his chest and threaded his arms around the front of him, signalling for Bullseye to take his feet. "Dean...Go back to camp."
Dean nodded, watching as the two men lifted the dead weight and began to make their way across the clearing. He looked down at his bloodied hands, everything inside him twisting and shrivelling as his mind refused to absorb what had just happened.
He set off on unstable feet back towards the campsite, leaving his blood-soaked shirt behind.