((This work is on an extremely sensitive topic, and in this, I will continuously strive to keep this story respectful. There will be homophobia and misogyny throughout this story. These views in no way reflect my own as an author, but were simply a product of the times. They were wrong views back then, and they are wrong views today. This story will contain violence, gore, starvation, and many different forms of human suffering. There will be visible trigger warnings at the beginnings of each chapter these are mentioned in. I am writing this story to show what homosexuals went through in concentration camps, as their story is often brushed off or not considered. I write this with the wish to change that fact, to educate people on what these prisoners suffered through. I have done extensive research, and will continue to do extensive research throughout the process of this story to ensure all historical events are accurate, on date, and respectful to those who suffered through this horrible string of events.

This story, from start to finish, is dedicated to and in honor of the 100,000 homosexual individuals who were arrested, the 35,000 who were sentenced to prison, the 5,000-15,000 who were sentenced to concentration camps, and to all those who perished in these situations.))

In 1934, a list of names was drawn up by order of the Gestapo, unbeknownst to everyone who wasn't gathering the information. Its sole purpose was to eradicate homosexuals from the German population, under penal code 175. However, at the time, no one was any the wiser to the workings of homosexual persecution under the new Nazi regime. In fact, Berlin, Germany was viewed at the time as a safe place for homosexuals, as a place to be partially free from the homophobic hatred that was spread almost worldwide. This promise of liberation, of happiness, was precisely why Dean and Castiel moved from the quiet town of Lawrence, Kansas, to the bustling streets of Berlin only five years earlier.

They had begun as friends in college, fresh and young at the transitional age of nineteen. Dean and Castiel both had been reluctant at first to accept their feelings for each other, but soon discovered something beautiful between them, something that could not be mistaken: they were in love. And in love they remained for their four years of college, until they both made the decision to move to Berlin. It would be better that way, they decided, and once they moved to Germany, they would be able to have more freedom. Of course, they would still take extra precautions to avoid ridicule, especially because they planned to live together. But all in all, it would be marginally better, and after taking a little over a year to learn enough conversational German to get them by, after finding available jobs and an apartment, the two men bid their families a short, unquestioned goodbye and headed across the globe.

July 14, 1929

"Wow," Castiel breathed, blue eyes trained on the almost equally colored water at the harbor, "I've never seen the ocean before."

Dean smiled, shifting his suitcase to his left hand so he could fix his soft cotton shirt, which was beginning to come untucked from his pressed slacks. "Me either," he replied, attention suddenly turned from Castiel to a loud, low-pitched whistle coming from their ship, signaling its readiness to depart. "But I'm sure we'll be seeing plenty of it on the boat. Come on, let's go get settled up."

Castiel nodded, returning his boyfriend's smile as they made their way towards the barge, the warped wood giving the pier an almost rubbery feel under the leather shoes they wore. It took a bit of time, but the two men were soon settled in their cabins, which were located only three doors apart for the ten-day trip ahead.

"Are you sure we're not just crazy for doing this?" Dean asked later that same day, leaning against a cool metal railing on the side of the ship.

"Well," Castiel responded, not taking his eyes from the pink sunset before them, "I think it'll be better for us. What could go wrong?" Dean simply smiled, wishing in that moment he could reach over and hold Castiel's hand. Perhaps they could openly do so in Berlin, if the situation deemed it appropriate. Either way, he was satisfied with the decision they had made, despite his slight hesitation in the face of what was already in progress, what would be difficult to adjust to. Not responding verbally, Dean followed Castiel's gaze and turned his green eyes to the setting sun, breathing in deeply to enjoy the salty tang of the air. "I think you're right," he said eventually, licking his lips in poor habit, "nothing's gonna go terribly wrong. I think we'll be happy."

Castiel, in response, turned to face Dean, daring to brush his fingers along the other man's arm. "We will," he declared, thinking for a moment about his next words. "Von nichts kommt nichts." Dean, brow furrowing in puzzlement, worked for a moment to translate the words from German to English. "Nothing comes from nothing?"

"Exactly. If we don't try, what there is to gain we won't be able to experience."

"That makes sense. Where'd you hear that, anyway?"

"When we were learning. I found it in the back of that old German guidebook."

Dean chuckled softly at Castiel's response, watching as shadows crept along the strong lines of his boyfriend's features. "I like it. You know," he said, smiling, "I learned a saying too. Zwei seelen und ein gedank, zwei herzen, und ein schlag."

"Two souls, one thought, two hearts, one beat?"

Nodding, Dean looked around to ensure they were alone and took Castiel's hand in his. "Basically, it means soul mate. It means I'm telling you you're mine."

Castiel squeezed Dean's fingers at the meaningful words and felt a smile break over his features, his chest feeling light and happy with the consistent pounding of his heart. "And you're mine," he replied, looking up to meet the other man's eyes. "Ich liebe dich."

"I love you too, Cas. Always will."

They watched the rest of the sunset hand in hand, the view only lasting another minute before darkness swallowed the world around them, leaving only the moon to suffice as a light source until morning. Although they were tired from the travel of the day, both men were reluctant to retire into their cabins until morning, and in this found themselves in Dean's room together. They knew they shouldn't do much physically while on the ship; they had earlier concurred it would be too risky. However, their decision meant in no way that they couldn't spend time together; they simply had to be cautious.

Somewhere along the way, Dean had managed to find a portable radio for the trip, and promptly pulled it from his suitcase. "I figured," he said, setting up the bulky device on the nightstand, "that we won't be hearing a lot of music in English when we get there, so we might as well take advantage while we still can."

Instantly smiling, Castiel looked to Dean for a long moment, simply admiring the thoughtfulness of the other man. "That's a great idea," he replied, settling back happily in a chair as the happy, big band swing music of George Olsen's A Precious Little Thing Called Love filled the small space.

Dean, a charming grin spreading across his face, extended his hand to Castiel with an exaggerated bow. "Would you care to dance?" Castiel, laughing softly at the seemingly ludicrous offer in the tiny cabin, took Dean's hand and stood. "Here?"

"Why not? C'mon, live a little." Dean replied, flashing Castiel the dazzling smile he only used when he needed to be convincing. As expected, it worked, for Castiel then relented to be pulled into his arms for a proper dance to the lively music.

It was a short song, and was enough to leave them flushed and happy, not out of breath and worn. It was perfect, as they considered each other. Both knew it was slightly foolish to be so enamored of one another, but when they were together, each felt he couldn't help it. It was as if nothing could ever shatter what they had together, as if everything was right in the world. And maybe it was. Maybe, they were always meant to be together, like in those cheesy romance novels the college girls were always swooning over. Perhaps fate was real, or perhaps it was by chance they had met five years previous. Whatever it was, it worked.

The time spent on the ship, which was only four days shy of two weeks, was often boring for the two. It wasn't a cruise ship, nor was it a luxury liner. It was simply a transport for a few passengers and cargo, which left the men with next to nothing to occupy them. Of course, spending four years in college had allowed them the skills for hours of reading and sendentation, and as a result it was what they did most of the days between spending time together and attempting to manage Dean's seasickness. The radio seemed to go faulty for a few days, but soon was back up and running, despite the fact most of the stations were in German. They understood enough, and the music was fairly familiar, which helped them continue their nightly routine of meeting and occasionally dancing in Dean's cabin. All in all, it wasn't the most pleasant way to travel, but it worked for their needs, and before the two knew it, their day of arrival had come.

September 16, 1929

Dean and Castiel had been comfortably settled into their small apartment in Berlin for a little under two months. Dean was working at a factory as a supervisor, and Castiel was writing small columns for the local paper. It was difficult, at first, to put their knowledge of speaking and writing German into practice, but it quickly became easy, routine; normal. As they expected, Berlin had many places in which they could freely express their partnership without getting ridiculed. In fact, they were even able to find a bar which held nights for homosexuals every Sunday. It was fun and freeing to be able to hold hands without someone yelling slurs at them, so they often returned. It was peaceful.

December 25, 1929

The apartment the two men shared was by no means perfect. Nail holes decorated the walls from previous tenants, the faucet squeaked when turned on, and the carpet was just beginning to fray at its edges. However, when decorated for the holidays, it held a warmth, a perfection, even. In the corner of the living room sat a small Christmas tree Dean had bought, its evergreen branches decorated with garland and strung cranberries. They both hadn't had much money to spare for gifts, and as a result planned to spend the day together.

Breakfast consisted of cinnamon rolls Dean made from a recipe his mother gave him before he left. As anticipated once the smell of the pastries filled the house, they were delicious. Gooey and sugary, the rolls proved to be perfect compliment to the french pressed coffee Castiel had fallen in love with. After their bellies were full and sated, the two sat on the couch before the fireplace and turned on the radio, listening to a combination of Christmas carols and the news. Between a few of the more popular songs, it was announced in the news that Heinrich Himmler had been appointed chief of the SS, an organization under the Nazi party. Although it didn't matter much to Dean or Castiel, as they weren't vested into politics, they were content to hear the news. They, like all other citizens in Germany at the time, believed Hitler would be a good leader to help them out of the economic crash caused that October by the fall of Wall Street in the States. As far as the two men were concerned, things were going well in their new country.

The rest of the day progressed on slowly, and after a light lunch of cheese and crackers, Dean and Castiel went for a walk. It was snowing in soft flurries around their jacketed bodies, the precipitation melting when it hit the ground. They talked about various things, about their jobs and about home, about memories and about the future. Halfway into their walk, however, the snow turned to rain, prompting them to seek shelter in a small gazebo in the park they had ended up at.

"It's colder today than yesterday," Castiel commented, blowing a warm channel of air into his cupped, mitten covered hands. Dean nodded in agreement and pulled his scarf up over his mouth and nose, feeling warmer the instant he did. They sat in silence for a while, watching the people around them, before Dean suddenly broke the silence.

"I think you're beautiful, you know that?" He said. Castiel laughed softly at Dean's antics and looked to him curiously, prompting a further explanation. "I'm just happy we were able to come here and live together," Dean continued, shrugging, "I know it seems ordinary, the life we're living, but I couldn't be happier."

Castiel smiled, his eyes scrunching up at the corners the way they only did when he was truly joyful. "Neither could I," he replied, reaching forward to give Dean's hand a quick squeeze before retreating. "Truly."

When the rain let up, the two men returned to their apartment and began cooking dinner. It wasn't anything fancy or extravagant, as they hadn't made any good friends to invite over for the occasion; it was just them. Both adept in the kitchen, they together cooked a small ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, and spiced cranberry sauce. While waiting for the meal to cook, they amused themselves by listening to the radio, playing cards, and reading. The hours luckily dragged by, giving them adequate time together in their day off of work. Once their meal was ready, they laughed, conversed, and ate until they couldn't stand another bite. Stomachs slightly distended, they cleared the table and eventually made their way over to the couch, collapsing onto it with simultaneous groans from being too full.

The radio played softly in the background to accompany the gentle sound of the fire crackling before them, creating a quiet atmosphere to wind down in. Castiel had his head laying upon Dean's shoulder, letting his boyfriend's fingers card through his hair as the German version of Silent Night played. After the second verse, Dean began singing along softly, the sound filling the air around them, creating a feeling of safety and belonging, one they would later find they took for granted. However, in that moment, they were nothing but happy as the radio program ended, leaving silence to allow them to cherish each other's company.

"Merry Christmas," Castiel whispered, sitting up to press a chaste kiss against the Winchester's lips.

"Merry Christmas, Cas."