Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to Eric Kripke and the CW.

Author's Note: I'm debating whether or not to make this an extremely long one-shot, a shorter but still long three-shot, or a multi-chapter fic. I already have just about all of it written, so I'm going to poll the audience. What do you think I should do?

Author's Note 2: I've had this idea forever, ever since I wrote Fallen Hero and read gothraven89's Soldier Boy. I wanted to do an AU of Supernatural where Sam and Dean met during a war and became extremely good friends. The story kind of built from there, until I had this scene that climaxed everything, Dean found out some really dark things about Sam, and Sam found out some really dark things about Dean. I also wanted to incorporate the other hunters that showed up in Supernatural, which will crop up randomly through-out the chapters, parts, or one-shot (vote via PM or poll). So, I sat down this weekend and did nothing but write this idea out. It turned out to be the easiest fanfic I have ever written. I also think it's one of my better ones, but you guys will have to tell me if you agree on that aspect of it.

Author's Note 3: Due to some complications, a couple of forgotten passwords, a few curse words, some arguing, and some tears, Supernatural Nightmare has decided to quit writing FanFiction. However, she has told me that I have full rights to Of Werewolves and Demons (the Supernatural/One Tree Hill fanfic she was writing) and that I could post it whenever I wanted. Also, she has also told me that I can also have The Host and Storm of the Century if I really wanted to. I'm going to think long and hard before I agree to post anything. If any of her fans have any preferences, or if you guys do, please feel free to tell me.

Author's Note 4/5 (combined Author's note, seeing as I'm running out of space): One thing I wanted to change about my writing was the amount of cussing I used in it. I tried to limit myself to only a handful of cuss words in this story, knowing it was already going to be rated T with violence and didn't need it to be bumped up to M due to excessive language. However, that didn't work out too well. I typed maybe a page and a half (the first half of this chapter) before I gave up and started using a lot of language. The result: this story is now bumped up to M. Another point I wanted to mention was that this story is rated M for another reason (my friend, Supernatural Nightmare gave me this idea). I was thinking up of a really dark past for Sam and was originally going to have him come from a family of hunters, but SNN gave me the idea to have him abused as a child, but still be this really amazing, wonderful guy and everything. So, this is the result. Hope you all enjoy! Also... one last thing... this is taking place during a random war... not really sure which, but instead of showing how little I actually know about war, I decided to just make it up as I go along. I don't have any use of the rankings or war jargon in here. Don't kill me!!

Read and review, please! That's the only payment I wish to recieve from this story.


"The War To End All Wars"

Chapter 1

Twenty-three year old Samuel James Winchester finished his final push-up and sprang to his feet, wiping the dirt off of his olive green shirt as he did so. It was already ninety degrees and the day had barely started. He shuddered to think of what the middle of the day would bring, when bullets started flying and the thermostat was cranked up another twenty notches.

Beside him, two other men sprang to their feet. Their names were Dean Jonathan Richardson and Robert Singer, Samuel's two good friends in their infantry. The three of them were fondly called the three musketeers by the captain and their fellow soldiers. They were as close as brothers and often acted like such; playing practical jokes on each other and always trying to get the last laugh. They got away with such things because when it came down to it, those three were the life and soul of the outfit. They were the most daring, the bravest, and the riskiest. It was why they were always out in the thick of things, trying to save as many lives as they could and why they always succeeded.

"You okay, there, old man?" Samuel asked his friend, Robert, teasingly. Robert, or Bobby as he was so fondly known as, was the oldest and shortest of the three. He was twenty-nine, with hair that was going prematurely gray and bright blue eyes that were almost always laughing. He was a well-trained soldier and he was as strong as an ox. He had gone to MIT, where he had graduated with top honors before joining the army, much to his family's chagrin. He hadn't spoken to said family in over two years and it had always been a sore spot for him. Samuel and Dean always stuck up for him whenever someone took to insulting their older friend.

"Shut up, Sammy," Bobby growled, glaring up at Samuel, or Sammy, as he was known as to Dean and Bobby. Samuel, or most of the time just Sam, was the youngest and tallest of the three. At twenty-three, he was just over six-foot four with brown hair that had once been shaggy until he shaved it and the world's most soulful brown eyes. He came from a family of Marines, though he made one of the best soldiers the army had ever seen. His father, Jonathan Winchester, had been a Corporal in the Marine Corps, his grandfather a Sergeant, and his late mother, a Private. He had broken away from the mold, joining the army instead of the corps after graduating from Stanford. Both things had pissed off his abusive father to no end and Sam had run away from home nearly two and a half years ago to join the army after his father had threatened him with certain death if he ever returned. Sam still had yet to mention this to either of his friends. He didn't want them to know. Sam was one of the kindest people anyone would ever meet. He always put everyone else in front of himself and never complained. He also took injury without complaint and hid it well, something only Dean Richardson could master him in. Sam had been taught by his abusive father that to show pain meant more pain until he could hide it. It was one of the several lessons Sam had mastered in his household growing up.

"Dude, its Sam!" Dean inserted, stretching one arm lazily over the other. Dean was the dead middle of the group. He was twenty-seven years old, six foot two, had dirty blonde hair, and hazel eyes. He had come from a quiet household, had a wife named Cassie back in the States, and a daughter on the way. He listened to 80s rock music religiously, made the worst jokes ever, ate like food was going out of style, and was as protective of his friends as a mother bear of her cubs. Everyone nicknamed him 'Mama Bear' because of his fierce protectiveness, especially towards Sam. The first day they had arrived, there had been a pretty serious exchange of bullets. Sam had nearly been struck with what would have been a fatal shot, but Dean, the idiot, had taken it for Sam. Luckily, Dean had only been hit in the shoulder and Sam had managed to drag the older man off the field in time to save his life. It was the start of a serious friendship between the two, which only grew stronger the more time they spent together.

"You call him Sammy all the time," Bobby pointed out as the three of them headed to the tent they shared. It hadn't always been the three of them sharing a tent; only when every other soldier in the outfit had gotten fed up with their jokes were they allowed to share the same tent.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Dean said, ignoring the older man as Sam yanked open the door to their tent. A jolt of pain shot up his arm for a brief second; a reminder of a long ago injury that his father had inflicted. Dean seemed to catch the slightest movement Sam made to cover it up as they walked inside.

"I'm going to go take a shower," Bobby announced loudly. Sam moved to collect his shower things as well, not really wanting to talk to Dean. He had seen the look on Dean's face and knew that Dean was probably going to question him about it.

"That sounds like a fabulous idea, Singer," Dean said, stretching again. "You stink like cow manure."

"And you smell like such fresh roses yourself," Bobby retorted, grabbing his towel and smacking Dean lightly on the hand. Turning to Sam, he added, "There's fifty bucks in it for you if you manage to get Richardson to shower before tomorrow."

With a grin and a duck from the flying pillow missile that Dean sent his way, Bobby ducked out of the tent, leaving Sam and Dean alone.

"You okay?" Dean asked, as Sam winced again when he moved to pick up his towel.

"I'm just trying to breathe through this awful stench," Sam joked, covering up his old injury well and trying to repress the memories of the hunting knife coming at him as well. "Bobby's right, you do stink."

"Bull shit," Dean growled. Sam turned, alarmed that he had been found out after all. But the smile on Dean's face took that away. "Singer's just trying to cover up how awful he smells."

"Are you seriously sitting there telling me that you smell amazing yourself?" Sam questioned, giving up the idea of a shower. There would be time later; there was a letter for him from his girlfriend, Jessica Moore, laying on his cot. The mail carrier must have been there.

"I don't smell that bad!" Dean protested, flopping on his cot and picking up a small brown envelope. It was from Cassie; Sam could pick out the hand writing from a mile away. There goes Dean for the rest of the night, he thought. Every time Dean received a letter from his wife, he was always in a loud, boisterous mood, where no one could ever say two words to him. He always ended up drunk and telling Sam how pretty he thought the taller man was, because Sam was the only one who would put up with a drunken Dean.

"Please," Sam said, flopping on his bed as well. "I've smelled garbage dumps that smell better then you."

He picked up the envelope, glad that he had successfully avoided any serious questioning from Dean. Dean was always the one who would pick up on Sam's moods and hurts, even when Sam thought he was doing a pretty good job of hiding them. It was scary how alert the older man was. It was also what made him one of the best damn soldiers Sam had ever met.

Dean merely grunted in reply, ripping open his letter and scanning the first couple sentences of the letter. A scowl settled across his face, one that Sam read easily. Dean was good at reading Sam, but Sam was better at reading Dean.

"What's up?" Sam asked, though he could guess. It had something to do with the words Cassie's father and baby.

"Cassie's father," Dean grunted. "Wants Cassie to move out of the house we built together and have the baby in Vermont, to be closer to them."

Sam hid his smirk as his thought process proved to be accurate.

"And what does Cassie say?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Cassie was as stubborn and determined as Dean, which was why they went so well together. Cassie probably told her father to go jump off a cliff, only in a little more eloquent speech.

Dean's scowl turned into a smirk.

"Dude, why do you even bother asking if you already know the answers? Seriously, I can hear your smirk over here!"

"It's more fun to hear how right I am," Sam retorted, his smirk growing more pronounced as he dodged the pillow Dean sent flying his way.

"Give college boy a cookie! He is always right!" Dean said, laughing as Sam merely rolled his eyes. Even though both Dean and Bobby also went to college, they were always teasing Sam about going to Stanford and graduating only two years prior.

"Can I get that last part on tape?" Sam asked, laughing as well as he opened his own letter. He picked Dean's pillow off the ground and added it to his own behind his head. He had quite the collection; people kept chucking pillows at him, expecting him to give them back. Stupid people, he thought to himself, settling down on his cot and unfolding Jessica's letter.

Short and sweet... mostly an introduction chapter. Tell me what you think!! Also, tell me what you want me to do with this story chapter-wise. Review!