
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2130414.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural, fun.
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Original_Female_Character(s), Sam_Winchester/Original
      Female_Character(s), Castiel/Original_Male_Character(s)
  Character:
      John_Winchester, Mary_Winchester, Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester,
      Castiel, Original_Female_Character(s), Original_Male_Character(s), Nate
      Ruess, Bobby, Ash
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_World_War_I, Major_character_death_-_Freeform,
      Emotional/Psychological_Abuse, major_death, Major_Illness, Hurt_Dean
      Winchester, Protective_Dean_Winchester, Young_Adult_Dean_Winchester, Teen
      Sam_Winchester, Fun._-_Band
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-08-13 Chapters: 2/? Words: 2376
****** Some Nights ******
by NicoleCox
Summary
     Growing up, Dean Winchester, has always been told to be a man no
     matter what and when World War 1 comes around he sees his chance to
     finally prove himself. Leaving younger brother, Sam Winchester at
     home to look after their sickening mother, Dean encounters love, loss
     and heartbreak, learning the key fact: Some Nights we feel infinite
     and Some Nights we fall.
***** Prologue *****
Chapter Summary
     Sing me to sleep
     Sing me to sleep
     And then leave me alone
     Don't try to wake me in the morning
     'Cause I will be gone
     Don't feel bad for me
     I want you to know
     Deep in the cell of my heart
     I will feel so glad to go
     ~ Asleep [The Smiths]
Some say that our sense of smell can evoke the most prominent of memories...
and sitting here, next to the sapling of a Balsam Poplar, smelling the
delicious aroma of honey, sweet and enticing, I could not agree more. 
The fragrance had seemed to transport my mind to the forgotten memories of
playing in tall reeds and scraping knees on uneven roads that a child may run
across despite his mother’s wishes. These were distant times, when life was
simpler and love was the affection of which your parents bestowed upon you.
However, my experiences were much different.
First time to a pub and as kid you're ecstatic, buzzing, the excitement almost
overwhelming. This is all because your father has decided you're old enough,
man enough to visit one. I'm 15. A man now. Man enough to do what dad doesn't
such as look after Sammy or feed mom when he's not home.
But I'm not being disrespectful, no, not at all.
I watch with curious eyes as father stiffens and fixes his collar before doing
the same to mine with nimble fingers. He's already warned me about appearance
and so I don’t want to disappoint him; it could result in him changing his
mind.
“I’m ready.” I announce, voice wavering only slightly until I clear my throat,
broaden my shoulders and stand straight.
“Huh?” Father grunted and pulled on his waistcoat then smoothed my hair down
with a rough and careless touch. Despite his actions the short fringe still
stuck up slightly, spikes facing all different directions. “Go put Sammy to bed
and then we can go.” His gruff voice seemed more distant than usual, as though
he was worried or troubled by something but I didn’t dare ask.
Hopping along the creaking boards of our small home, I burst into the room that
Sam and I share, grinning happily. With Sam, I don’t have to hide or be ‘grown-
up’, I can just be… Dean.
“Alright, Dad said you gotta’ go to bed now, Sammy. -No, no, don’t give me that
look, I don’t make the rules here.” It's those damn eyes. He always does this.
He always pleads and begs, asking for just a little while longer, mainly so he
can read mommy to sleep. 
“Deeeean!” The most childish whine finds its way out of his mouth and I have to
give the kid credit, he almost changes my mind.
“No, Sam.” I try to make my voice sound stern like fathers always does and
thankfully, I succeed at doing so. Throwing his fists down by his sides, Sam
stomps to his bed, hair a floppy mess and covering his forehead.
“Fine! But if I get sick because I’m sleeping too much then it’s your fault!”
He complained, his big brown eyes tainted with a frightened glitter that caught
the lilttle light and became aglow with whiskey like embers.
“What? Sam, why would you get sick from sleeping?” I can’t help but frown at
his bizarre threat, brows pulling together in confusion and concern.
“Well…” Sammy began, brown hues downcast, “Mommy sleeps a lot and she’s… she’s
sick so I guessed that sleeping too much made her sick.”
All excitement that I’d previously felt dissipated, my whole body seemingly
caving in on itself, chest tightening. “No, uh, no, Sammy. She didn’t get sick
by sleeping too much.” The voice that speaks is shaking so much I’m not even
sure it’s my own. I’ve always tried my hardest to keep mothers conditions from
Sam, he’s only 11 afterall and although extremely intelligent, I think that for
all of us, there are receptors in the brain which disallows traumatic knowledge
from entering.
Therefore to hear him speak in such a way is more than unsettling.
The urge to curl up and cry was suddenly overwhelming but that woudn’t be very
manly at all would it? I didn’t want Sam to think mother was sick and I really
didn’t feel like going out anymore. Or perhaps I just didn’t want to become a
man because I knew with that transition father would be around even less and
Sam would not look at me as his brother but more of a parental figure.
“Come on, Dean!” Dad yelled from somewhere near the front of the house, causing
me to jump and be brought into the harsh reality of Sam staring at me, wide
brown eyes glassy with pooling tears. He didn’t understand mothers situtaion,
how could he?
Holding a silencing finger over my lips, I gesture for Sam to be quiet,
unbutton a few a holes on my shirt and then pad down the hallway, slowly,
making sure my expression is drawn, eyes glued to the floor and arms curled
around my thin waist.
“Dad, I- I don’t feel so good.” I stutter, partly for effect but mostly because
I’m actually scared as hell as to how he’ll react.
“You’re sick?” His voice seemed to bounce off the walls only to come back and
slap me in the face.
“I- I think so, sir.” It’s a mumble, fear engulfing me. He really wasn’t going
to take this well.
“Men don’t get sick!’ He snarled, upper lip curled in distate as his dark,
maddened eyes glared down at me.
“You’re clearly not ready to be a man! I doubt you’ll ever be ready to be a
man.” He added the last bit with a look of disgust masking his every feature;
the crinkle by his eyes, the frown lines sketched onto his forehead. I’d
disappointed him again.
“I’m sorry, dad, I just-”
“Do not talk back to me, Dean Winchester, don’t even-!”
“Dad!” My panicked voice rose above his, emerlad hues clouding with fear as he
continued to shout, not for myself, but mother as she was asleep in the next
room along. “Please father, you’ll wake-” I wasn’t allowed to finish my
sentence as the man before me sent a hard slap across my cheekbone, leaving the
skin to be licked by a sweltering heat and kissed with the ugliest of throbs.
“Don’t you ever answer me back, boy!” The man yelled, his eyes glinting with
fury and… and something like hate. With that father stormed from the room, the
house, leaving me trembling in his wake, wanting, wishing that I was man enough
to go after him.
The scent had caused such reminscences because father didn’t come home that
night and I’d found myself burying him a week later with Sammy at my side,
crying and clinging to fathers cologne soaked waist coat, asking over and over,
‘why did papa leave us?’.
***** March With Me *****
Chapter Summary
     Blue hydrangea, cold cash, divine,
     Cashmere, cologne and white sunshine.
     Red racing cars, Sunset and Vine,
     The kids were young and pretty. ~ Old Money [Lana Del Rey]
The streets were paved with gold here. Literally. Golden streamers, thin paper
that'd been cut into little squares and triangles. They littered the sidewalks,
the roads and gradually became darker with dirt as men in uniform, soldiers,
marched atop the shimmering mess.
"Well I'll be damned," Bobby emerged from behind a truck he'd been working on
and wiped his grease ridden hands on an old rag, the old mans beady eyes
watching with scrutiny as the procession continued, "they actually got old,
Ruess, to perform outside of a soldiers dance." He laughed and shook his head
sadly, walking to stand beside me as I leant against the wooden framed entrance
of 'Bobby's Bobbing Garage'. "I say old but the kid can't be more than 24 yet
he's been singing with the soldiers for four years now, thought it'd keep him
off the front line. He was wrong." It was a fleeting, matter of fact comment
said with slight disinterest yet Bobby was easy to read and therefore I could
see the pity reflected in his pointed stare. 
"He's a man, Bobby, gotta' give him credit when it's due." Lifting my shoulders
in a slight shrug, I turn and move further into the garage so I could finish
cleaning my tools.
All soldiers were men no matter their age. Women spoke of them in such ways as
did the elderly and were you a fit, able young man such as myself they'd often
scowl or spit whenever you walked past. It was a given reaction really, a
suitable one because why shouldn't I be out there, fighting just as their
husbands and sons were.
The cheers from spectators are deafening as the march continues, Ruess leading
the band and a man in a different coloured uniform leading the soldiers. It is
truly spectacular and I'd be lying should I deny there being a type of envy. 
Nimble fingers work methodically, cleaning, shining the metal objects that I'd
used only moments earlier to tune an engine. This, this is what I was good at,
mother would always tell me whenever I were to bring up the subject of
enlisting. She'd say something along the lines of, 'But you're a mechanic,' -
cough, add a pleading gaze- 'you're a good mechanic son.' And then she'd cough
a little more until Sammy would come rushing in with her medicine and water. 
So of course, how was I to say no to a dying woman, my mother of all? You
didn't. 
Bobby would always back her up, complain about not having enough staff if I
left but he was already letting people go. The garage was too small and
profitless for there to be an excessive amount of workers so it was just me and
Ash for the time being.
By the time each and every tool was clean enough to be put away, the commotion
outside had settled down somewhat so I figured now would be as best a time as
any to head home. I made sure to pop into Bobby's office and offer my brief
goodbyes before leaving the garage.
Little kids now played among the streets, pretending, imitating the soldiers
whilst beggars scurried about, looking for anything that could make them some
money. Pulling at the collar of my coat, I kept my head down as I walked, well
aware of how some mothers had called their children away, being sure to keep
them out of my line. The kids' giggles had rung out after they'd been whispered
to by their mother and I'm not exactly sure if it be the paranoia but I
could've sworn that I'd heard the word 'coward' too.
See, I'd like to make one thing clear, I'm not a coward and nor will I ever be
one... I just, have a family to look after.
The rest of the walk home was quiet and uneventful apart from the times where
the uneven gravel would result in me tripping and cursing in annoyance.
Heavy footsteps were audible as soon as the front door closed behind me,
grunting too. "Dean? What the hell, you're late! Mom was so worried." Sam
scolded from his place in the hallway. The dirtied white shirt he wore was half
unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled in a scruffy manner.
"There was a parade today. It blocked the streets. Besides, I'm here aren't I?"
I'd been in a bad mood all day ever since seeing the soldiers so it wasn't
surprising for me to snap in such a way.
Sam cowered in on himself slightly despite how he wanted to stand tall; it
showed in the firm set of his jaw. The boys shaggy hair covered his forehead in
a matted look and curled behind his ears. "Whatever. Mom wants you." He said at
last and disappeared to somewhere that wasn't within hitting distance.
Trudging my way to her room, I knocked once and waited for her broken voice to
answer before entering. "Hey mama." With all disregard to my previous foul
mood, the harshness that often sharpened by voice disappeared completely and I
was once again small.
"There's... My little... Angel." She wheezed in between her words and coughed,
frail form shaking slightly on the bed.
"Ma..." I warned but only softly, a frown creasing my features.
"Where were... you?" She inquired.
"Working. Where else would I be?"
She looked at me sternly and for a moment I could've sworn to the high heavens
that the woman in front of me was not in fact sick at all. "Enlisting... Doing
something... So... Foolish." Coughing again, mother took a moment to gulp down
three lots of air. "Your brother... Needs you... Dean."
"Mama, I was at work." I insist once more and stand in aggravation, fingers
gripping short tufts of my hair as the urge to rip it out becomes
overwhelming. "Besides, he doesn't need me. You need him. I... I should be
helping people, saving things, saving this goddamned place but I won't get the
chance because both of you constantly guilt trip me!" My voice had risen
considerably as I'd grown more furious and Sammy had come to lean against the
door frame, his big brown eyes round with fear and concern.
"Angel-" Mama started but I held up one finger, silencing her and stormed off
past Sammy and back out of the door from which I'd just come through.
The air was colder now, nipping at the flesh I'd left bare in my haste, having
forgotten my scarf. It bit at my nose and cheeks and numbed my lips but it did
clear my head. I knew why they didn't want me to enlist. Men came back broken
and most wouldn't come back at all. Mama didn't want that fate for me and Sammy
was so young that he thought should I leave, things would be thrust upon him
just as they were me at his age.
And I didn't want that for him, honestly I can tell you with all my heart that
I didn't want him to go through the same that I had done but I needed to enlist
for myself. I needed to become the man that I should've those years ago and
then perhaps I'd make father happy even if it was beyond the grave.
I just needed to do something right for a change and I'm sure that if I were to
be marching in a parade just as those soldiers had been, Sam would see and he'd
be proud as hell too and even mother because her son would be something other
than a mechanic... Something other than a coward.
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