Title: To Live After The Marines
Author: AlwaysChanging
Pairings: None, but mentions.
Warnings: Some boys crushing on Dean
Disclaimer: As much as I would love to lay claim to Supernatural, I don't have the papers. And I'm kinda scared of working with devils. (lawyers) So I don't own anything.
Note: I love the Marines, so no dissing to them. They have my most respectful view, so I didn't mean for them to look bad if they do.
Summary: Dean thinks back to his brief days in the Corps and regrets every Allie life he couldn't save, and every enemy life he didn't take.
To Live After The Marines
Dean smiled sadly, and then frowned, looking at his buddies' graves. Tears mixed with rains and visa versa. The words echoed in his head, playing a sad, sad, broken record. The words of Mike Tallow, his leading officer, his freelance boot camp instructor, were the broken record.
"To be a Marine…"
"Battles are won as teams, by not standing out."
"Head my every order and I'll try sending you home to your mothers."
"Work faster, damnit!" –That one was he favorite, Dean mused.
Smiling, he turned to the slippery knots of the wet rope to the graveyard's gates. He was good at those—the knots, he meant. He was also good at guns. Guess which came in the Marine Core training? Both.
Grunting as the knots came undone; the man of twenty-five redid them tight and slammed his Impala's door shut after walking across the drenched parking lot. Slipping in into night clothes—a pair of loose drawstring flannel pants and a loose white T—he made himself comfortable in the back, pillow under his head and blanket over his lean body.
He curled up, tightening the blanket over his body. The damn thing was too small and thin to give him proper protection. But, hell, he slept in worse conditions.
"Mine!" Tallow's voice echoed, unforgiving to his only living private.
"Cover Jasmine, Winchester!"
"Dying is gonna be one hell of an experience."
"Take that you son of a bitch!"
"Get ready! Hurt 'em all!"
"Fight knowing that this will be your dying bed!"
"Kill them before the kill you!"
"Take 'em on hard!"
"Go! Move it out!"
"…You fought like one hell of a proud son of a bitch Marine, Win…chester…"
Blocking out the cries of his commander in war, he focused on the care-free times.
----------Flashback--------
-Two Years Before-
"Dean!" an eighteen-year-old panted in 6 am laps. "I'm getting there! Keep going, buddy!"
And the Winchester did just that. Really, if he didn't, he'd have 50 laps to do. He'd rather run the mile. "Yeah, sure, Nilly." He mumbled as he ran.
"I ain't no Nilly! I'm Nils!" the Kentuckian yelled as the finished and they were "free". Or going to breakfast, you know, whichever.
"Sure," the blonde said unconvinced. "Sure, Nilly."
"Don't!" cried the younger. Nils Lenton, eighteen, recruited by his own father. Dean had snorted in disgust at that, and then thought of him and his father. Maybe he shouldn't be snorting…
The line was small, as they'd practically run here. To them, it was part of the mile morning run.
After getting food, three eggs, two slices of beacon, two hash browns, and milk, Dean sat at the far table. Nilly came and sat right up close to his Marine buddy with three eggs scrambled, two linked sausages, two hash browns, and orange juice on his plate. He smiled for the others that joined their table.
The new comers laughed at the normal site. The six foot one Marine sat with a little pint of a Kentuckian. Dean Winchester, a tall guy at 6'1, hazel eyes, dark blonde hair, and lean. Nils Lenton, a short shrimp as 5'9, big blue eyes, light brown hair, and a lanky kid. Cuddled up at breakfast.
"Yo, man," Joe Jasmine whistled, running a hand through dark red hair. Dean thought it looked like cherry pop soda. "Nice. Got a little lova right dare on ya's arm. Cute."
Kellen Manson, a tall 6'6 guy, laughed. "Aw! Leave 'em be. Least their gettin' it! We got nothin'!"
Fort Lensex, the brainy, soft spoken medic laughed quietly at them all. "Stop," he said gently. "Leave Nil and Dean be. They don't do nothin' to you."
"Of course," the last comer smiled lightly for Fort. Trey Marsh was last comer to the table, a guy that was as silent as a dead man. He didn't know he'd be a dead man that soon off, the present Dean thought. "Of course."
Fort smiled back, not noticing flickers of liking in Trey's eyes. Kellen rolled his eyes and wolfed down his food like Dean, Nils, and Joe. After they finished—Nils had been feeding sausages to Dean, getting more hoots from the others—they all left for their free day. Wait till 12. It won't be free anymore…
Joe went with Kellen, Fort with Trey, and Dean with Nils. The boys would meet back at lunch before going their ways.
Dean smiled, Nils tucked in his arms, as the sun played down on them. The brunette was laid sleeping on Dean's chest, taking in sun like a cat. Suddenly, a dark shadow was over the boys.
"Get up," it commanded. "Now."
"God damn, today's free. Ain't that right Mike?" Dean asked, doing something that looked close to a sit up to throw Nils off him. The smaller complained.
----------End Flashback--------
Dean smiled to himself, and brought himself back to death worthy times.
---------Flashback--------
The same day as before
"What? This isn't a drill?!" Nils panicked, wringing his wrists. "No!"
"Don't worry," Dean soothed him, running his hands up and down the kid's back. "It';; be fine."
Mike Tallow, their commander by forced for this hell hole forest fight, sighed. "Listen up! Take 'em on hard!" he exclaimed, trying to help the six boys with him. Nothing. He looked at his group of kids—no, of Marines.
Dean Winchester—one of a kind cocky guy, protector of Nils Lensex, brother, son, helper, friend, fighter, and the guy that came in first of his boot camp ranking grades.
Nils Lenton—a kid in the Marines that really never wanted to go, "boy toy" to Dean Winchester, son, friend, helper, and a guy that hated war if there ever was one.
Joe Jasmine—a fun kid with guts, a brother, a son, a young father, a fighter, a lover, a kid in the Marines that had no reason to go, but went because the need to help.
Kellen Mason—an amazing friend, loyal guy, a great ex-son, a good Methodist, and a Marine that went against disownment to get in.
Fort Lensex—a nice guy, a medical whiz, a good son and ex-brother, a guy that you trust, a open and ready person, and a Navy med that just wants to get out and ranch up somewhere with someone special.
Trey Marsh—a silent kid, an orphan, a kid that pines after Lensex, and a Marine that is a great but underestimated Marine.
All kids and guys that would soon die. Perfect.
Mike opened his mouth again and explained. The enemy was here kill anyone not in blue "armor"—jeans, sweaters, and helmets. Fight for the team, and the missions only to clear out the enemy. Take on no prisoners.
Again, after a moment of quiet, he asked, "Is there anyway thing you regret?"
Only Dean raised his hand. "What is it, Winchester?"
"Not being a better brother… And… Not doing Nilly over there sooner."
Mike rolled his green eyes. Of course. "Anyone else? No? Good. Time for 'a pep talk'. Ough.Head my every order and I'll try sending you home to your mothers. Now! Get ready! Hurt 'em all! Fight knowing that this will be your dying bed! Take 'em on hard! Kill them before the kill you!"
"Not much of a pep," Dean muttered.
"Don't have to be," Kellen whispered back. "Just have to be headed."
Mike nodded. "Ready? Now! Go! Move it out!"
And, with guns and knives, six boys and a man took off into the unknown.
The first five minutes were hell. Nothing was there. Suddenly guys popped out in red and opened fire. The blue men opened back. That was normal, that was sturdy ground, because that was what was expected.
Sweat poured off Dean half an hour into the fight. Lots of guys dropped off the off the "Red Team" and none the "Blues". Good, they couldn't afford a death. And, sadly, just as Dean thought that, Joe dropped.
The commander screamed over, "Cover Jasmine, Winchester!", and ran further into enemy fire. Dean took off three enemies charging at them before Fort ran over.
"Okay," Fort mumbled. "Its gunna be okay."
Three hours in, all fire stopped on the one side of the forest. They, the tired, hungry, soaked, and mad Blues, returned to "base". Or where ever they started.
Joe laid in a small tent, Fort scampering in and out to keep tabs. Dean was seated by the fire—he was still amazed it was so bright—Nilly in his lap.
"Dean?" the boy whispered. "I'm scared…"
"Don't be. I told you I'd protect you," the older man whispered back, gently hitting Lenton's knee. "So hush."
"But you weren't there when I was surrounded. I looked and couldn't find you."
Dean froze up. Finally he answered, "Don't worry 'bout dying."
"Dying is gonna be one hell of an experience."
Both boys snapped up, and looked at there officer like he was crazy. "What the hell?" they responded in chorus.
"I mean, Jasmine's goin' and I'm thinkin' what it would feel like." Mike answered, sitting a drier log.
The younger men shot to the tent. Sure enough, Fort was crouching over a pale body, and Kellen was crying over said body. Sobbing into the blue clothed chest he cried out, "Don't leave. Just don't leave!"
And suddenly, Joe whispered "bye". Nils broke out sobbing, Fort cried over him silently, and Kellen was pounding his fists into Joe screaming, "No!"
Dean responded to his comrade in a cocky manner. "See ya, Soda Pop."
Joe laughed and died.
---Later That Night---
Fort sat on the ground, Joe buried. Nils sat in Dean's lap sniffling. Kellen looked like killing someone, fists tightly clenched. Mike kept shaking his head. Dean thought on where people go after death.
Fort opened his mouth first. "Where's Trey?"
A piercing, tortured scream filled the air from a distance, died, and all was silent again.
"Lying face down." Kellen muttered bitterly.
---The Next Morning---
Fight started at seven, killings around eleven. First Fort went, by killing himself no less, after finding the dead body of Trey. Tortured, burned, raped, most likely scared… Anything to hurt him and make him scared. Fort shot himself. He said he could never ranch up now that he saw that. It was too much.
The others followed in quick session.
Kellen went next, just after securing a fox hole for their small, withered and broken team. "Got it!" he yelled, throwing up his arms.
The big, burly, strong-hearted Marine… Down… Dean would never see a sight like that again. But, still, the enemy was mostly gone. Two more guys, Mike promised. Two more.
That night at camp, Nils cried. Mike looked off. Dean glared at ghosts of friends he knew were there. Kellen and Joe smiling, waving like the clowns they were. Waving good bye. They saddened after no one but Dean saw them, whispered good byes and left. Fort and Trey were quiet. Fort whispered "bye guys", and Trey pulled impatiently at the medic's sleeve.
They left too. The goof he was, Kellen yelled just before he left, "See you in a few!", and waved wildly.
The next morning, after taking out the last two the found, they started to head back to base. Nils was limping back, and coughing up small amounts of blood. Worried, Dean gave him a piggyback.
It happened quickly. Mike stepped on an active bomb, blowing up his legs, the blood gushing everywhere. The shrapnel hit Nils in the head, putting him seconds from death. Dean threw the smallest male down to check him, where as Nils simply blew him a weak kiss.
"I'll be watching," he whispered. "So don't go fooling on me!"
Dean laughed weakly and tightly and let his buddy leave. He didn't leave for long. Two seconds later, when the uninjured was crouched by the head of his commander, the presence of the small Kentuckian came back.
But the man didn't have time to think about that. He concentrated only on the weak voice of his leader. "…You fought like one hell of a proud son of a bitch Marine, Win…chester…" the man smirked. "To be a Marine…"
And he was gone. Nice, right?
So Dean dug the graves, and put them in. Only the memorials were in the graveyard. Upon returning, he gave his report, and promptly quit.
----------End Flashback--------
To this day, Dean fooled around. It made Nils' presence clearer. To this day, Dean headed Mike's every order. It helped save his life.
To this day, Dean remembered Fort as an honest, kind person and strived to be like that in some cases. It helped make good friends.
To this day, Dean remembered Joe and Kellen, joking and laughing, and helping and hurting for each other, and could make do with any strain against him. It helped him from going mental.
To this day, Dean listened to Trey's advice, "Sometimes it is best to shut up and be alone." It helped him not feel left out.
To this day, Dean regretted not killing more enemy. The deserved to die.
To this day, Dean regretted not saving more Allies. He could've been a Marine still, surrounded by friends.
To this day, Dean did it…
Because it made it easier to live after the Marines.
AC: R&R