Pearl Harbor 1941
Author: Cheryl W.
Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.
Author's Note: If you don't like AU, then this story is not for you. The boys aren't ghost hunters but soldiers and Dean's not afraid of flying…he's one of the Navy's best pilots. Also, I do not intend any malice or hold any prejudices toward Japan but I was trying to channel the feelings that the characters might have expressed under the circumstances.
Summary:Total AU. The brothers are soldiers at Pearl Harbor during the sneak attack in WWII. No slash.
December 6th, 1941
Dean,
Today, seeing you on Pearl's base, it was good. No, crap, it was great, Dean! No matter what you think I have missed you. Dad too. And just because I dropped out of the flight school and went to Intelligence it doesn't mean I intended to turn my back on our family. Dad was the one that said I shamed the family when I broke the family tradition of being a pilot. I tried it Dean, I really did but I was never going to be half the pilot Dad was or even a quarter of the pilot you are. (Yes, I'm finally ready to admit you're better at something than Dad and I both).
You looked fit, almost respectable in that flyboy uniform. I'ld say you haven't changed in the two years we've been apart but you have, I have. I feel like we both became men while we were apart…well I did. You were a man at, what? Four years old. I know, don't start. Ok, fine, how about you tell me if you knew I was at Pearl Harbor. I didn't know you were here, I swear that, Dean. I wasn't avoiding you. But you didn't look that surprised to see me. Maybe I'm just paranoid…course that's what Dad taught us to be: Always on our guard, always willing to do our duty to God and country.
I want to see you again. Not for five minutes over a quick beer. I want some real time together, Dean. I want us to swap stories about the past two years. I want to know how you got the small scar above your brow and yes, how many women have fallen hopelessly in love with you. And I do want to know Dad's OK, that the crops are good and that Bobby Singer's still coming out on Saturday nights to play cards with Dad. Please, Dean, I don't want to walk away again, for us to continue to act like strangers. You're my big brother and I love you. That's got to count for something with you, earn me a few hours on a free Sunday you have.
You can send a reply to me in C/O barracks 14.
Stay safe, Dean.
Your brother,
Sam
PS - I know you will think this is lame, but I have some letters that I've written to you over the past two years. I know I should have mailed them to you but I didn't and I just didn't. I guess the letters were a way for me to feel close to you. (I know, that was too touchy feely for you but you're just going to have to deal with that.) I just wanted you to know they are here, in a chest under my bed just in case something would happen. There's even a letter for Dad but I'm not ready to mail that one yet. Not sure when I'll ever be ready to mail it.
December 8th, 1941
Dean,
I don't know if you're alive or dead and that's killing me. When I heard the first explosions, when I knew it was an attack, my first thought was of you. I wondered where you were, if you were in the thick of things, if you were hurt. I ran all the way to the harbor, stood there watching those bastards kill us, heard the screams and I just wanted to find you, still do.
It's on our heads, Intelligence's, this travesty. We were supposed to be guarding against this, protecting those men against seen and unforeseen enemies. I know you would never see it this way, but I felt like I was protecting you, that the information I tracked down and found out was keeping you safe. (And I can prove it too: I found out about that tropical storm that your unit would have flown right into back in September. I told my CO that he either was calling it into your CO or I would. See, so little brother's can handle the role reversal…just not all the time, not permanently, never permanently. Please don't have left me alone, Dean. Please).
When I saw all those planes flying through the maze of ships, it made a mockery of every false pride we had, I had. And if you're not OK. You have to be OK, Dean. You're my big brother, you protect me, you protect the guys in your unit, you protect the whole free world. You're one of those heroes you used to tell me about when I couldn't sleep at night.
I saw a few planes got up, survived the strafing raids and the bombing on the hangar deck. And honestly I wasn't sure if I wanted one of them to be you. I wanted you alive, unhurt but not rushing into a dog fight, putting yourself in the sights of the enemy that knew no mercy. I couldn't see inside the cockpit or even the numbers on the side, just saw the planes streaking by, Zeros on their tails one moment and the next, I watched the tables turned, saw the Zeros drop out of the sky in a flare of fire and metal and I was glad, felt happy at their death. I've never know this type of hatred before, this need for revenge. Maybe I understand some of Dad's motives now, why he turned us into military men before we were barely able to talk, taught us how to shoot and read maps and why he hates so deeply those who started the great war.
I don't even know where to send this letter, who to give it to, who is left in your unit. I went over there, to your barracks and it was a hollowed out ruin, still smoking. And the hangar, that was worse, had me wanting to throw up, at the bodies, at the shell of planes crumbling on the pockmarked runway. For hours I looked through the bodies there for you, wondering if the next corpse I turned over would be you. I bawled like a baby when night fell, when I couldn't search anymore, when I hadn't found you, left with despair and hope churning in me.
But out of all this hell, with all the lives lost and this betrayal and this hatred burning in me, it's the fear that you are gone that's the worst, consumes me even as I perform my duties, as I search for anyone who knew where you were at the time of the attack, as I tally the dead and hear the plans for our retaliation. None of it breaks through the hurt, the fear in me. I keep expecting to turn that corner by the hospital again and see you standing there, like I did two days ago. To feel that rush of happiness overcome me again, except ten fold now. But you're not there, no matter how many times in a day I go there, you're never there. Where are you Dean? Please, you can't be gone, you can't leave me, not when we just found each other again.
Your brother,
Sam
TBC
If anyone wants more of this story, I would love a review of encouragement. I really feel stupid posting this, was actually going to chicken out and post it under an alias so anyone who usually likes my stuff wouldn't hold this crazy AU against me. (I should really remember that insanity is something one should try to hide, not expose any chance a strange storyline pops into one's head.)
Have a great evening!
Cheryl W.