Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. The only profit I am making from this story is the wonderfully amazing reviews you all are leaving for me. Thank you so much!! I'm glad you're enjoying this story.
Author's Note: This chapter is kind of a filler chapter and probably the last one you're going to get before Saturday. I'm still editing a few parts in the next couple of chapters, but as soon as I have those done, I will post them.
Supernatural
"The War to End All Wars"
Chapter 4
Sam awoke in the middle of the night to sounds of loud booms and flashes of light. Instantly, he began the search for his boots and his gun, thinking the camp was under attack.
Across the tent, Dean was doing the same thing while Bobby snored on, completely oblivious to the world around him.
"Dean?" Sam whispered, barely audible above sudden crack. There was a dripping sound coming from outside; it sounded as though a million pipes had burst.
"I don't know, man," was Dean's reply to the unanswered question.
Turning away from Dean, Sam looked out the translucent material of their tent. And laughed hysterically.
"Dude! It's a thunderstorm!" he said, laughing at the rain and the lightning. It made sense; there had been thunder earlier that day, signaling an oncoming storm. And, it had certainly been hot enough for a thunderstorm. Sam felt like an idiot.
"Really?" Dean asked, his eyes growing wide before looking out the window as well. He let out a booming laugh, one that caused Bobby to stir slightly before rolling over and letting out a loud snore.
"Who would have guessed?" Sam asked, setting his gun down on the ground again and kicking off his boots. He stretched once and lay back down on his bed, closing his eyes with every intention of going to sleep. However, Dean seemed to have other ideas.
"Sam?" he whispered quietly. Sam opened his eyes and nearly jumped to find Dean looming over him in the darkness.
"What the hell, man? Halloween isn't for another month and a half! Don't scare me like that!" Sam exclaimed, flipping on the overhead light.
"Sorry," Dean said, sitting down in the chair next to Sam's cot. "I just don't really feel like going back to sleep and since you're up…"
Sam could practically taste the whiskey from the powerful odor that was coming off of Dean. He inwardly sighed, knowing that he wasn't going back to sleep.
Sitting up and wincing at the pull of his stitches, Sam blinked heavily and nodded, biting back a yawn.
"All right," he said. "But if we get in trouble in the morning, I am totally blaming your sorry ass."
Dean smirked drunkenly.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you, Sammy?" he slurred. "And how pretty you are?"
"Only every week, Dean," Sam said, smirking slightly at the older man's antics. "And you don't want Cassie to hear you say that. After all, don't you love her?"
"Yeah, I do," Dean said, a dreamy smile crossing his face. "She's so pretty. We're married, you know."
"You've only told me half a billion times, Dean," Sam reminded him.
"Really?" Dean seemed surprised. "Oh. Well, I love her. I love you, too. I mean, you're always there, you're always saving my ass… you never leave. Everyone leaves, except you. Hell, I even left! But you don't. Why don't you leave?"
"I guess I'm a sucker for you, Dean," Sam said, taking pride in the small fact that Dean was in his own drunken way, complementing him.
"Thank you, Sammy," Dean said, swaying slightly. "I think I'm going to go to sleep now."
"That's a fabulous idea, Dean," Sam said, smiling lightly as Dean did a face plant into Sam's cot. Sighing, he slid his legs out from underneath his blankets and yanked Dean onto the cot. He covered Dean with the light blanket before taking his pillow and going over to Dean's cot. "Good night, Dean."
"'Night, Sammy," Dean muttered against the pillow. Sam smiled again, turning over and falling asleep instantly.
Sam woke the next morning to the sounds of groaning and retching coming from outside of the tent. Knowing it was Dean being hung over and knowing that no one else was going to do anything about it; Sam shoved on his boots and grabbed a semi-clean t-shirt and headed out of the tent.
Dean was hunched over, shielding his light sensitive eyes with one hand while the other was wrapped around his waist. The vile smell of vomit made Sam want to hurl as he grabbed Dean around the stomach and pulled him upright.
"Let's go get some coffee," he suggested, letting his friend lean against him as they headed towards the mess tent. Dean didn't put up any objection. If anything, he leaned a little more into Sam.
"Man, how drunk did I get last night?" he groaned as Sam pulled open the mess tent door and shoved the other man inside.
"You were going on and on about how much you loved me if that's any indication," Sam said, grabbing two coffee cups and handing one to Dean. Dean took it and stared at it as if he had never seen one before.
"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly and Sam knew he wasn't apologizing just for his drunkenness.
"It's okay," Sam said with a shrug, filling up his own mug of coffee. Seeing Dean being utterly helpless about his, Sam decided to relieve him of his misery and filled it up with the bitter brown liquid.
"Thanks," Dean said, taking the mug with a grateful sigh. He let Sam steer him over to the table where Bobby, Joshua, and Jo were sitting.
"What's wrong with him?" Jo asked with all the subtlety of a blunt axe as Dean flopped down on the seat next to Sam and put his head down.
"He got pretty drunk last night," Sam said softly as Dean stared listlessly at his coffee. Leaning over, Sam added in a stage whisper, "It helps if you put the cup to your mouth and drink."
Dean fixated him with such a glare that Sam merely rolled his eyes and put up his hands in mock defeat. The older man did however begin drinking his coffee.
"Is he going to be okay for duty today?" Bobby asked worriedly, taking a sip of his own coffee.
"You know, I'm sitting right here," Dean said gravelly, fixing his glare on Bobby. "I'm hung over, not dead. I can still answer your questions. And yes, I will be fine."
Sam smirked, glad that his coffee hid his expression from his friends.
The next day was worse. Dean was still extremely grouchy towards everyone, Sam included. He had gotten drunk again the night before and now had a double hang over, along with a small concussion from being thrown into a wall by Smith, when the younger guy decided he wanted to try and beat the living hell out of Sam and Dean had gotten into the middle of it. Bobby and Ryan had gone on ahead, leaving Sam to break it up.
"Guys! You are professional soldiers with a job to do!" he had shouted, stepping in between Smith and Dean. He got punched in the nose by Smith. It started bleeding instantly.
"Oi! Leave him the hell alone for once! He never did anything to you!" Dean yelled, struggling to get past Sam's binding arms.
"Dean! Damn it, Richardson, calm the fuck down!" Sam ordered, pressing Dean harder up against the wall.
"I'm not going to let that little prick get away with punching you, Sam!" Dean snapped, struggling even harder against Sam's arms.
"Dean, it doesn't matter, just calm down," Sam said. "Calm down. Now."
"Yeah, listen to your boyfriend," Smith snarled gleefully. That did it for Sam. He dropped his gun and his restraint on Dean before whirling around to face the shorter, younger man. Smith was about five foot nine and Sam had at least seven inches on him, as well as more muscle. It would not be a fair fight.
"I suggest you shut the hell up and grow the fuck up before I pound you into a wall myself," Sam said, his voice growing soft and menacing. He curled his hands into fists. Smith flinched, a look of fear entering his eyes.
"I-I didn't mean it!" he protested. Sam glared down at him.
"Stay the hell away from Richardson and me, or by god, I swear I will kick your ass all the way back to the States, you hear me?" he demanded. Smith nodded meekly, before turning and jogging in the opposite direction, heading towards the trucks.
"Shit, he's gone to squeal to Clayton," Dean swore. Sam turned his glare on him.
"What the hell were you thinking, getting into a fist fight with that punk?" he demanded, shoving Dean up against the wall again. "Do you have no brain whatsoever? Do you really want to get thrown out of the army that badly? You know that idiot will go straight to Clayton and yet you don't seem to give a damn! Why can't you for once just let it go?"
"Dude, he decked you!" Dean protested. "What did you want me to do? Just walk away?"
"Yes, Dean! I'm fine, no thanks to you!" Sam said, wiping his still bleeding nose on his sleeve. He released his hold on Dean and took a couple of steps backwards.
"Damn it, Sam," Dean growled. "Just grow the hell up, all right? I'm going to look out for you, regardless of whether you want me to or not. So just get over it!"
"You're not going to if it means that you're going to get yourself thrown out of the army for fighting!" Sam yelled back.
Dean glared at Sam and Sam glared back. Neither was willing to give up, give the other the victory.
"Richardson! Winchester!"
The sound of Clayton's voice broke the glaring match between the two. Bobby had just come back along with Ryan in one direction and Captain Clayton had come with Smith from the other. Sam swore mentally.
"Yes sir?" Sam asked, turning away from Dean to face Captain Clayton.
"What is this Smith tells me about fighting between you three?" Clayton demanded. Sam stared at his feet while Dean inspected his hands. "I do not tolerate fighting amongst my men, you understand me?"
"Yes sir," Sam mumbled. Dean muttered something incoherent.
"What was that, Richardson?" Clayton asked, turning his glare on Dean. "If you have something to say, speak up so everyone can hear you."
"I said 'yes sir'" Dean said sarcastically, shouting the words for a good measure. Sam fought back an eye roll and smirk.
"The three of you will go on a ten mile run when we get back to camp," Clayton said, his voice dangerously soft. "In full gear. And if I catch any of you fighting, ever again, I will have your asses on a platter, you understand me?"
"Sir yes sir!" Sam, Dean, and Smith chorused, saluting the Captain.
"Now get your asses back to the truck! Move!" Clayton ordered.
Hope you all enjoyed it! Sam and Dean will be back to being friends in the next chapter, I promise.
