Disclaimer: I own nothing but my dreams and my unbetaed mistakes. :)

Warning: May contain gore, cursing, and very clean destiel (I promise nothin kinky, only gushyness)

So basically, I was sitting in biology bored out of my mind when this idea came to me and I was like, Yes this is going to happen. I needed an alternate universe fic where I could bring everyone together with some sort of plot and then whump as needed. So this is dedicated to DamonFan1300 and DeathServedCold. I love you all duckies!

It was a chilling day on the battlefield and the heavy tang of copper was still thick in the air. Each side of the valley was burdened with battle-weary men. The tents rippled as the wind stole through over the land, curling around anything it could find purchase in.

Castiel strolled with purpose to the commander's tent. He knew that as general he was respected, but there was an uneasy feeling in his gut as he reached out to pull the flap up. He knew that both sides were getting restless for an end to war. The battle had spanned over seven months now and neither group appeared to weaken the other. But king John had made his demands clear.

The army had swept in on an eastern campaign, claiming land for its power hungry monarch. No one had opposed the over-barring legions, until now. If Castiel could speak for most everyone, he would say that the fighters were true, but their hearts weren't in it. No man, except the king it seemed, had any wish to invade the surrounding lands and demand obedience to the crown, or death. It was ruthless, brutal, and they had no option.

With renewed determination the general flipped back the tent cover and stepped inside the crown prince's tent. He had already discussed the intended plan with prince Samuel the captain, but as eldest, prince Dean held command over his father's (some day to be his) army. Castiel had been trained since he was five years old to command by his side. Both had been through hell and back and had seen many things. But what he was not prepared for was the blissful and serene look on Dean's sleeping face as he entered. He wished that Dean looked like that more often and that he could sleep longer. God knew at least someone needed it. In battle though, nothing could wait.

"Commander. You need to wake up." Receiving no response, he shook his shoulder.

No sooner had he done that than he was pinned to the floor with the point of a dagger hovering above his heart.

"Dammit Castiel! Don't do that!" He offered a hand and pulled Cas to his feet.

"I don't believe that you would've, I trust you."

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

"What is it Cas?"

"I have already spoken to your brother, but as commander I need your approval for today's attack."

"Right then."

"The enemy's right side is weak. I propose that we divert two flanks to that side and press the rest of the men on a full attack."

"Of course, but we need to have enough archers on the ridge and cavalry at the base."

"Of course sir I will see to it. In the mean time do you need help with your armor."

"I'm not a child Cas!"

"So that's a yes then?"

Sam knew it was just like any other day. Each side was lined up ready to meet the other with a new strategy. There was something different about today. A change in the feel of the wind, were it for better or worse, no one could tell. The air filled with the sound of shuffling feet, snorting horses, and readying weapons.

Dean was seated on his black mare 'impala', with Sam on his right and Castiel on his left. Each of their capes, proudly bearing the royal crest, snapped wildly behind them.

It was another day in battle. Nothing special. Little did any of them know that this battle, would decide the outcome of the war.

At the beginning of the battle things were looking up for them. The hillsides were flowing with Britheldell's blood and Windchester's soldiers. Then half way through, the other side had unexpected reinforcements. The gleaming helmet's of what seemed to be five thousand men, crested the peak.

Sam's eyes grew wide with realization.

"Dean I think we need to retreat."

Dean deflected an arrow with his shield, drew out his sword, and looked to his brother.

"Sam you know we can't," as he deflected another arrow, "these seven months will have been for nothing."

For the first time, Sam saw a lack of confidence in his brother's eyes and more, a look of fear.

Sam was about to argue, but his brother rode off to aid Castiel's men. And Sam was once again left with his own problems.

It wasn't that he didn't love and look up to his brother, it was that no did that to him. Dean was a powerful authority figure and next in line for the throne. Sam had no quarrel, it was simply to prove that he could be just as good as his brother.

As the last of his surrounding enemy's fell, Sam started to ride to his brother. But he was stopped short as an arrow pierced his leg and he fell from his horse.

Castiel and his men had been over-run on the western flank and were wearing thin. The commander and general fought together as though that were their only purpose in life. They could communicate with each other at a single glance.

As the flank was again steady, Dean prepared to get back to his brother, when he saw him fall.

He couldn't lose his brother. Not now. He needed to protect him no matter what. He needed to prove to his father that he was a worthy son. He needed Sam to know that he was safe and loved.

So, Dean jumped from his horse and ran like a wild-man.

"SAMMY!"

His brother looked up from his place on the ground and locked eyes on him. He looked pale. Then Sam grimaced and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he dropped.

"Dammit Sammy!"

He was half-way to his brother when he felt a sharp pain in the shoulder of his sword hand. He stumbled forward and nearly fell from the impact of the arrow. Gotta get to Sam! Gotta get to Sam! He pushed himself forward and closer to his brother.

It was getting harder as things were slowly becoming distorted and he thought for a moment he heard Castiel call his name. None of it mattered though. He pushed through his fog and kept running. He began stumbling as the world tilted.

Dean was so out of it he didn't even notice the man stepping in front of him, effectively cutting him off from Sam.

But it was to late as the opposing warrior's sword, stabbed mercilessly into his left side. In that moment all the fog cleared as the sword pulled out of him and he fell to his knees.

"Tell Lord Crowley his wishes have been carried out," the man sneered to another as Dean fell backwards into darkness and Castiel's arms.

Ok so I promise that this isn't a death fic for Sam, Dean, or Cas. I might kill someone later, but not them. Please review or give me suggestions. I am open to your ideas dearies! I also promise that this will continue... Only if you want it too! :)