1 - Training Exercise

"Get your asses moving!" Lt. Donovan's voice bellowed. "Sooner we get done with this exercise, the sooner I can see my girl, so move it!"

Private Dean Winchester got his ass moving, crawling under rows of barbed wire. Mud covered him from head to toe, getting into his eyes as he slogged through it. Rain beat down, tapping a steady rhythm against his helmet. Five more feet.

A wave of mud sloshed directly into his face. "For fuck's sake, Roderick!" he yelled, wiping the slop off. "Watch where you're kicking, asshole!"

His answer was a middle finger held over a shoulder as the man in front of him kept crawling.

Dean scowled and continued on. Finally, he was able to get up. Mud was seeping into his boots and dripping off of everything else. He was spitting it out of his mouth. And the douche responsible for that last was snickering. "Hey Winchester, how was your snack?"

Dean clenched his hands. "Roderick, I swear, first chance I get…?"

"Gossip hour is later, children!" Lt. Donovan roared, so close behind Dean that he nearly fell right back into the mud. "This exercise is over, so how about you all dry off with some laps? If you're fast enough, you can dodge the raindrops, now move it, dirtbags!"

Once again, Dean had cause to wonder why, exactly, he'd thought joining the military would be a good idea. Stifling a groan he didn't dare let his Lieutenant hear, Dean started running.

Naturally, Roderick fell into step next to him. "Hey, Winchester," he panted, "your mom busy tonight? I'm feeling up for some action."

"Only action you're getting is from your hand," Dean retorted. "Unless Atkins is available?"

"Fuck you, Winchester!" Atkins called back, apparently having heard that. "I was drunk that night I kissed you."

"Yeah, but you were into it," Dean replied, grinning. "It's a modern age, man, there's no need to stay in the closet."

"I was not into it!"

"Yeah?" Dean grinned. "Then why'd you slip me tongue?"

"You think you're funny, Winchester?" Atkins laughed.

"I think I'm adorable."

"You're not adorable," Roderick panted. "You're a fuck up and everyone knows it."

Dean's playful mood was gone like the passing wind. "You know, I never did figure it out," Dean began. "What, exactly, is your issue with me, Roderick? You barely know me. Don't tell me you're still pissed about that girl you were hitting on blowing you off and coming onto me?"

"I know you well enough to know I don't like you," Roderick replied. "I've known guys like you all my life. Fucking walking Ken dolls, always get everything handed to them on a silver platter…"

"Dude, are you fucking kidding me?" Dean sputtered. "My mom died when I was four and my dad drank himself to death six years later! My six-year-old brother and I were living on the streets off anything I could scrounge up or steal until Bobby took us in, and…"

"Oh, cry me a fucking river," Roderick scoffed. "One, you're full of shit, and two?"

Dean had to admit, it was smooth. Somehow, barely breaking stride, Roderick managed to kick out to the side and trip him. Dean went down hard. After that, it was like a chain of dominoes. The soldier behind Dean tripped over him, which tripped the one behind him, and so on until the ground was covered with groaning, cursing soldiers.

Dean managed to crawl his way out from under the pile and encountered a pair of boots. He groaned, looking up into the scowling face of Lt. Donovan. Dean managed a smile. "Oops?"

It was day two of trench duty. The temperature was somewhere in the low 90's and the sun was beating down. Worse, the trench was in a field that had once apparently been the home of some cows with digestive issues. Dean was getting mighty tired of being covered with dirt and filth.

Of course, there were worse things than being filthy. "Winchester, you know what I wish?" Roderick called from his end of the trench. "I wish that I could make you eat every shovelful I'm digging out of this. And then, when you're absolutely stuffed with shit? I wish I could shove this shovel straight up your ass."

"You seriously have an unhealthy fascination with my ass," Dean noted. He stomped on the blade of his shovel, driving it in. "Honestly, dude, if you want to ask me for a date? I much prefer flowers to shit."

Roderick slammed his shovel down and turned to glare at Dean. "First chance I get, I am messing that pretty face of yours up so bad it'll look just like what we're shoveling here."

"Yeah, yeah, love you too." Dean tossed out another shovelful and leaned back, grunting in relief as his back popped. He did a bit of stretching, loosening up his overworked muscles. He twisted around to the left and something caught his eye.

A package delivery truck was driving onto the base. It was hardly unusual, but for some reason, this one seemed strange. He glanced upward, double-checked with his watch, and frowned. "Hey Roderick?"

"Dude, just shut up and dig!"

Dean ignored him, his eyes now squinting at the truck. "Roderick, didn't we already get today's delivery? It's almost dinner. Why's this guy coming so late?"

Roderick looked up and frowned. "Hey, you're right." He tossed his shovel aside and started towards the truck.

"Be careful," Dean warned.

"Up yours, Winchester, keep digging."

"Wait, why are you checking this out?" Dean challenged. "I spotted it!"

"Because I thought of going to look." Ignoring Dean's sputters, Roderick headed towards headquarters, where the delivery truck was rolling to a stop.

Dean looked at his shovel, back at the truck, tossed his shovel down and started out after the other soldier.

The truck's driver had already gone into the building when Dean approached. "Hey, maybe we should call an MP?" he suggested. "This whole thing is a bit weird."

Roderick rolled his eyes. "Winchester, I swear, if this is just some excuse to get out of trench duty…?"

Something inside the building exploded with a roar and a billow of flame. The heat was intense. Dean and Roderick, partially shielded by the truck, were still knocked down by the blast.

As quick as he could, Dean scrambled back up. "Go get help!" he ordered a stunned Roderick. "I'm going to see if there's anything I can do inside."

Not waiting for Roderick's response, Dean raced around to the front of the truck. The entire front of HQ was blown out. Bits of debris and worse were everywhere. From inside the building, Dean could hear faint screams and cries of pain. "Hang on!" he called. "I'm coming! Roderick, get help!"

To his credit, Roderick immediately got on his phone to call 911, even as he ran to assist. Dean raced back into the building. Seeing the huddled, bleeding figure crawling towards him, Dean quickly approached. "It's ok," he soothed. "I've got you. I'm going to get you out of here."

The other soldier only moaned in reply. Dean carefully got the man up and outside. He leaned the wounded victim against the truck, where he could rest in the shade and recover. Then Dean was racing back into the building for more.

By the time the bulk of the population of the base arrived, Dean was helping out the third victim. "There's a lot more inside," Dean panted, helping his latest victim into the shade of the truck.

Lt. Donovan nodded. "Good work, soldier. Ok, everyone, let's get busy! First off, I want…"

The explosion drowned out his words.

It wasn't until much later that Dean learned that the truck itself had been loaded down with explosives, far more than had been in the package inside. The one inside HQ had been designed to injure, maim, and draw attention. The attacker, Dean would learn, had intended the truck bomb for the first responders, who would be drawn by the first explosion. It had been a stroke of luck that it had gone off sooner.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean much for those near the truck. The entire area around the truck was simply gone. Even the spot where the truck was parked was gone, leaving only a smoking crater of broken or missing asphalt. Everything and everyone near the truck was destroyed.

Everything, and everyone, except for Dean Winchester. Other than the few bumps and bruises from when he'd fallen after the initial explosion, Dean didn't receive a single scratch.