This is set during World War II, but because I am not a historian this story is not a accurate account of what occurred during World War II. The only reason I decided to base it on World War II was because we are learning about it in class and it oddly inspired me. So again this isn't an accurate retelling of World War II! So do not be offended if something isn't politically correct, and I am in no way claiming that this is what really happened during the war. I have grandparents who fought during this time, and I respect them greatly and all of the veterans who fought and the brave men who fell fighting.

This is a multi part story and I already have it all pretty much written out , as of right now I'm just editing. So the uploads shouldn't be that far and in between. Anyway lets get the ball rolling! My only request is that if you hate the story or you think my writing is crappy please just refrain from commenting. I'm all for constructive criticism but if you are just going to be mean then don't comment.

Disclaimer- No matter how hard I wish I don't own supernatural... I'm just a teenage girl who has a small addiction to any and all things supernatural.

Background- This is set during D-Day in Normandy, June 6, 1944. Dean is 22 and Sam is 18. Also I know that dean would have already been drafted, but for the sake of story he somehow has managed to avoid it so far.

The night before the storming of the beaches.

It was so cold that Dean could see his breath every time he exhaled. The complete and utter silence from the other soldiers is just more proof that Dean wasn't the only one with the upcoming day on his mind.

Tomorrow they would be heading out to attack the beaches of Normandy, to fight in a battle that was promised to be uncertain. Dean stretched his neck to look over on his right side to check on Sammy. The lumpy cot slowly groaning out a moan of protest at Dean's shifting weight.

Sam's brown hair, which was now trimmed and neat, stuck up in a random array on his head. His eyes fluttered under his eyelids while his breathing was harsh and shallow. Their cots were close enough that Dean could reach out and grab Sam's cold hand that hung off his bed. Dean reassuringly grasped Sam's hand in his own, and his reaction was instantaneous.

Dean watched Sam's ridged body begin to relax, and his harsh breathing began to ease. He gave Sam's hand a final squeeze and let his arm fall back limp beside him. Dean had made a habit out of checking on Sam in his sleep. Even when Dean was a child he would go check on the infant Sam during the night to make sure he was still breathing.

It was something that came naturally to him, and eventually he found it to be comforting, to watch Sam's chest rise and fall and to hear the quiet puffs of air escaping between his lips. Dean couldn't sleep restfully without knowing for himself that Sam was alright. He could remember the times they got separate rooms as a kid and even after his father has reassured him countless of times, he still ended up checking on Sam multiple times during the night.

But with the changing circumstances, seeing as they were side by side, laying on cots provided by the U.S Army, and surrounded by 20 other fellow soldiers trying to sleep in the middle of a war zone, dean couldn't help but be a tad over protective of Sam.

Dean tried to readjust himself, pulling up the blanket till it reached his chin resulting in the coarse fleece blanket to barely cover his toes. Poor Sam didn't even fit on the cot. His feet hung off, and the blanket left either his feet uncovered or everything above his sternum. Dean had tried to give Sam his own blanket, but he didn't even get a complete sentence out before Sam was glaring at him to shut up.

Dean exhaled a sigh and watched his own breath slowly dissipate. He couldn't even count the number of times Sam and him shared a small bed and a single blanket in a freezing cold motel room. But at least they had both been smaller, and younger, and Sam hadn't been afraid to cuddle. He could still remember the feel of Sam's much smaller, uncalloused hands fisting in his shirt, and how Sam's big head fit perfectly under his chin. He could still recall the way Sam's shaggy hair tickled his skin, and the scent of Sam's shampoo he used during bath time that night fill his nose.

Sam had belonged only to Dean. And even though he would deny it, Dean loved it being that way. He liked the feeling of being Sam's protector, and even though technically Sam belonged to their father, everybody always thought of Sam being Deans.

One of Dean's least favorite memories was the one of Sam coming home on his eighteenth birthday to tell him and John that he had joined the Army.

It was May 2nd, and Sam only had a few more weeks till he graduated from high school. Sam was now eighteen years old, and Dean was occupied wrapping a gift for him. John had been sitting across the table from him reading the newspaper and sipping at an ice cold beer. They had been debating whether they wanted to follow a tip off they received and start heading down south, or go a couple of cities over and check out a simple haunting. But either way they were going to stay put for Sam's birthday.

Dean had just finished tapping down the last piece of loose paper on the gift when the door squealed open. They both looked up to see Sam slowly closing the door behind him. "The birthday boy finally decided to grace us with his presence." Dean teased. But Sam just flashed a weak smile and nervously ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. Dean's eyes scrutinized Sam's nervous tick, and raised an eyebrow in question. "What's the matter...was the library all out of your girly romance novels?" Sam blushed slightly and opened his mouth to speak, only to abruptly snap his jaw shut. "Well spit it out." John said, his voice snappy and impatient. Sam studied his scuffed shoes and simply stated "I joined the Army."

John's beer slipped from his hands and shattered on the tile floor, while Dean just sat there in shock trying to process what just left the mouth of his little brother. "What the hell do you mean you joined the Army?" John used his fingers to make the quotations sign. Sam just met Johns gaze head on. "I signed up to fight in the war, and I leave after I graduate." "So you leave in 2 weeks?" Dean interrupted. "Basically." Dean let out a sigh and attempted to hide his clenching fists. John stormed out of the dingy motel room, letting the door slam on his way out.

"Why would you do that?" Dean inquired of Sam. Sam took in a deep calming breath before answering. "I did it because I, um... I didn't want to disappoint you Dean." Dean met Sam's hazel eyes with complete an utter shock painting his features. "What kind of reasoning is that?" His voice was unsteady with hidden emotion. "You damn well know why Dean! I have idolized you since I was a kid, and you have done everything for me, way more than dad ever has! All I wanted to do was for once to make you proud, and do something I know you would have done in a heartbeat if you didn't have me to look after." "Sam you have never done anything to disappoint me. And don't you dare feel guilty about me having to help you out! Because you know damn well that I would and will do anything for you, just like you would for me."

Dean took an unsettling breath in, and pushed his chair back from the table. He and Sam stood face to face, and before either of them could blink, Dean was holding Sam in a protective and slightly possessive embrace. He felt Sam melt into his arms, and just as tightly hugged Dean back. An in that moment, Dean realized that his Sammy didn't just belong to him anymore. Dean now had to share Sammy with the country, and Dean's strong suit had never been sharing. But Dean would be damned before he let Sammy go fight without him. Sam's fight had always been Dean's fight too, and this was just the same. Whatever dangers Sam would face, Dean would face them too, and he would be in his rightful place. Right next to Sam.

Dean had gone and joined the Army that same day. They left for training 2 weeks later, together. Dean glanced one more time at Sam. He couldn't help but still see a tiny child curled up in a motel blanket after falling asleep during one of Dean's stories.

Dean quietly laughed to himself at those memories. He slowly felt his lids growing heavy with exhaustion. Dean let himself block out reality and dream about Sam and him growing up, and always having Sammy's hand securely placed in his. Knowing that as long as he was around, Sam would be protected. And Sam would always be his kid.

Thanks for reading! I hope it wasn't to terrible. Please Review... and all that other stuff!