Twist and Shout

Chapter 7

1971
-
Vietnam wasn't what Dean would have expected at all. It was green and humid, and at least Cas was right about that, but Dean thought to himself that maybe things would have been different if he was over there for a different reason. The scenery was beautiful, don't get him wrong, but he just saw things differently. Every time he went somewhere, he always sought places where he could keep cover just in case anything were to happen, because he wasn't about to get left in the open where he could get shot
He had someone to go home to, someone that expected him home in one piece, and he was going to keep his promise to Cas.
Adam Milligan joined their platoon a few months before Dean's departure home. He was a greenhorn, shipped straight from Kansas, and most everyone avoided him the first couple of weeks because no one wanted to be caught near him if he made a rookie mistake in the field. The new guys were usually the first, and the first to get shipped home in the body bags.
It was raining and they had settled down to rest for the night at base. Dean was seated on the edge of his cot, cigarette dangling from his lips, when Adam walked into the tent, shirt clinging to his skin; soaked to the bone. Dean laughed dryly, blowing smoke out of his nose as Adam wandered over to him, sitting on the cot across from him.
"Get caught in the rain?"
Ashes fell from the end of his cigarette as he fished around behind him, pulling his pack of smokes out and offering it to Adam. Adam shook his head and waved him off, and Dean shrugged and set the pack down beside him.
"No, thank you."
Dean raised his eyebrows, surprised that the kid was actually polite. He had been dealing with men that were as rude and crude as him for months, so it was almost a relief to have someone around with some manners. He finished off his cigarette with one last pull, dropping it onto the ground and tamping it out with the heel of his boot. Adam shifted on the cot in front of him, eyes darting around the tent before stopping and focusing on Dean.
"So what brings you inside?"
"It's raining."
Dean laughed again, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. "No shit. It's always fucking raining. Woulda been a miracle if they had sent us out here during dry season."
Adam laughed softly and leaned back, attempting to wring some of the water from his shirt, only managing to stretch the bottom. He frowned and placed his hands in his lap.
"How long you been out here?"
"Few months," Dean shrugged a shoulder, placing his hands on the cot and leaning back slightly, watching Adam the whole time. "It's Milligan, right?"
"Yes, sir," Adam nodded, smiling slightly. "Adam Milligan."
"You don't need to call me 'sir'. Dean will do just fine. Or Winchester, like the rest," he sat up and Adam pulled back slightly, leaning away from him. The kid was a stick with a mop of hair, not long, but a mess. He couldn't have been over eighteen, and the thought made Dean's stomach sink. He couldn't believe that they were sending kids fresh out of school over to this place.
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
"God damn," Dean breathed, smoothing his hand over his face. "I guess they don't got anything better than to send kids over here, huh? Funneling you poor fools right into the meat grinder."
Adam shrugged and Dean shook his head. Not a lick of fear in the kid's eyes. If anything, he was indifferent to it all. Probably poor, Dean figured. A lot of boys enlisted to make money - if they could last that long. He reached around him and grabbed his pack of smokes, fishing another cigarette out of it. He lit it quickly and tossed the used match onto the ground, taking a long draw. Adam watched him, and Dean saw the glimmer of innocence. He bit back the urge to sigh. It was okay for Dean to be over here, just dandy, but he hated seeing kids Adam's age. It felt like they only lasted a night and then they were lying on the ground, begging for their mothers.
"You got anyone back home?"
"My mom." There was a pause as Dean breathed out, smoke clouding in between them and Adam coughed, waving his hand through it. "Do you?"
"My brother," Dean answered quickly, taking another pull from the cigarette. His helmet was on the ground near his boots, and he gently pushed it beneath his cot with his heel; the picture inside was folded and creased many times over but safe from the rain and elements.
"You don't have a girl back home or anything?"
"That's none of your business." Ashes fell onto his boot and he kicked them off, Adam following the movement with his eyes before they returned to his face. He was frowning, and Dean shrugged.
"I bet you do, huh?"
"Drop it, kid."
"Is she pretty? What's her name?"
Dean pulled the cigarette from his lips and held it between his fingers, jabbing them in the direction of Adam. Adam flinched and leaned back.
"You got a girl back home?"
"Well, uh, no."
"I don't either, so shut your mouth, will you?"
He returned the cigarette between his lips and took a pull, and Adam scuffed the toe of his boot against the ground. It was silent between the two of them, the rain beating against the roof of the tent, and he could hear people talking outside. It sounded like Ash and Henrikson, talking about some broadcast that Ash had gotten over the radio.
Adam broke the silence first, and Dean groaned.
"So what's your brother like?"
Dean finished off the cigarette threw it onto the ground with the previous one, giving it the same treatment with the heel of his boot.
"Smart. The kid's a hell of a lot brighter than I am. He's studying to get into Harvard Law. He's at Stanford at the moment." He smiled fondly and ran a hand through his hair. He missed Sam like crazy, and he missed Jess too. He missed seeing them together, all smiles and laughter, Jess' golden hair even brighter in the sunlight, and Sam having to benddown to kiss her cheek.
"California?" Adam marveled, tipping his head forward. Dean laughed.
"NorCal," Dean finished, and Adam dimmed. "What? You wanted me to say Hollywood?"
"I don't know. I've never been out of Kansas. Well, that used to be true."
"Kansas to 'Nam, my God," Dean laughed again, harder. "They pick you boys up like summer corn."
"I enlisted," Adam scoffed, flushing, "My mom's been working alone all her life. I figured this was good way to pull my weight."
Dean didn't say anything and they lapsed into silence again.
"You miss him a lot, huh?"
"You don't even know the half of it, kid."
Adam smiled and scratched at his wrist absently, looking at the ground.
"I haven't even been here that long and I already miss my mom. I miss her like crazy." He brought his hand up to rub at his eyes, and Dean leaned forward, gripping his shoulder. Adam smiled, a small smile, and Dean squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. The look he gave Dean reminded him of Sam when he was younger, when he would ask where their mother was, ask if she was going to come home anytime soon, and it broke Dean's heart.
"Hey. You'll be home in no time, okay?" He didn't pull his hand away until Adam nodded and rubbed at his eyes again. "A few months will feel like a couple of days, trust me."
"Yeah, okay," Adam chuckled, rubbing the palms of his hands against his pants. "Yeah, I trust you."
"But you don't ever let 'em see you cry, alright?" Dean insisted. Adam nodded vigorously, steeling his face. He looked like a tough kid. He held himself differently than the others, even though he was younger. Dean had been watching him from afar for a while. "They see you cry, you're cooked," Dean continued, rolling his neck and shoulders, the rain picking up.
"I doubt anyone would even care. No one talks to me."
"It's because they 're waiting to see if you'll fuck up. You're green, baby," Dean drawled, tapping his fingers idly on his matchbook. He raised his eyebrows at Adam. "You gonna fuck up?"
"No," Adam bit, straightening up. "Hand me a cigarette."
"That's more like it," Dean grinned, tapping one out into Adam's hand. He bent forward and Dean lit another match, shaking it out once the end of Adam's smoke was glowing. Adam coughed lightly and shook his head.
"Been a while," he choked, eyes watering. "Tastes like shit."
Dean shrugged, considering the notion of having a third. There was nothing else to do. He shook his head and tucked the pack away for later; no sense in wasting them.
"I haven't smoked since high school. Mom made me quit," he continued. "Says it's unsanitary."
"Hmm," Dean nodded, scratching his forehead, not really listening. His thoughts drifted; he was so damn tired he couldn't even rein them in.
"Someone else I know says the same thing," he said, after a moment blinking to wake himself up, and Adam perked up, tapping ashes to the ground.
"Your mysterious girlfriend?" he mocked, and Dean rolled his eyes.
"If it were, what would that fucking even change? You still wouldn't know her from Eve," Dean replied, standing and stretching and then sitting back down, the cot groaning under him.
"I'm just curious. All any of the other guys do is talk about the pussy they get. Figured you'd be the same. They talk about you too."
Dean laughed, head thrown back, turning his wrist so it popped.
"I'm sure they have a lot to say," he smiled, and Adam stubbed out the cigarette as Dean had done, withdrawing a pack of gum from his pocket. He unwrapped a piece and chewed it.
"Not really. They said you're the best marksman in the unit. And that you don't say much. Say you've got a hard-on for Henrikson too," Adam chewed, and Dean shook his head at the absurdity. "You two pal around."
"I respect Henrikson and he respects me, which makes him my friend - but they are right, I'm the best marksman we've got in this piss ant platoon."
"How come you're so quiet? I mean, if I were older, I'd make a ton of friends," Adam rambled. "If I had half the respect you did - I'd be using it, you know? But you never ask for favors. I know that. I've watched you. You never do."
Dean's mouth twitched and he rolled his shoulder again, feeling the tight muscle pull and ache.
"I'm not here to make friends," Dean answered, "I'm not here to do any favors for anyone," his face was stony as he spoke, his voice soft, "I'm here to do what they tell me so I can collect when it's over and go home. I've made a promise, and that's all I care about."
"Did you promise her you'd marry her when you got home, or what?" Adam snapped around his gum, and Dean lifted his eyes to him. Adam's chewing slowed to a halt.
"Here's some advice, little brother," Dean began, whispering. "Don't talk about shit you don't understand."
"Sorry," Adam murmured. "I didn't know...I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Dean sighed. "It's complicated, that's all."
"Wanna talk about it?" Adam grinned and Dean reached over and punched him hard in the arm, making him yelp.
"Shut up. And next time you're in line, don't look around like some idiot - you hold up the group."
"Dick..." Adam grumbled, rubbing his shoulder, smiling a little at Dean. Dean was back to brooding again, eyes distant, and Adam knew he wasn't going to tolerate any more stupid questions. He didn't seem like that kind of person. What he said made sense though. He acted like he wasn't there. Not really. He was just holding place there for a while, biding his time 'til he was somewhere else - just passing through their unit without really being a part of it. Except for Henrikson, who valued him and asked for his opinion at times, and Ash, but Ash was odd and a genius and no one except Dean and Henrikson really talked to him with any kind of authority.
Adam licked his lips.
"So do you love her?"
"Yes," Dean said automatically, and like a reflex, pulled his cigarettes out and lit one.
"How did you know you loved her?"
"What the fuck is this, Milligan? You writing a book? One of those romance novels?"
"No, I just wanted to know!" Adam rushed. "She'd probably want you to make one friend."
Dean chuckled good-naturedly and pursed his lips around his smoke, inhaling, his dirty fingernails brushing against his mouth.
"How did you know?"
"Moment we met," Dean answered. "That's when I knew."
Adam blanched.
"You're a fucking sap, you know that?" He scratched the back of his head. "Seriously Winchester, who the fuck even talks like that? Love at first sight? That's bullshit." Dean smiled like he knew something secret.
"What am I supposed to say? When we fucked? That's what the rest would say, but they wouldn't know true love if it bit them in the ass. But maybe you're not asking about real love. You're just after tail. I know how a nineteen year old works."
"You don't know jack shit." Adam blushed. "I was asking about real love. You know, getting married and shit like that. Makin' kids. White picket fence. So you can suck a dick, asshole."
Dean barked another laugh, smoking his cigarette slowly, making it last. He didn't answer Adam further, looking instead at his chest - a thin gold chain was wound around his neck and disappeared under his shirt.
"What's that?" He pointed at it and Adam looked down, surprised, before pulling it out and holding the thin medallion in his hand.
"It's a St. Michael. My mom had it sent before I left BST. She said it's supposed to protect me, or something." He rubbed his grubby thumb over it and then tucked it back in. "I don't know; I don't really buy into all that, but it makes her feel better, and it's like having her with me. You get that?"
Dean nodded, thinking of the photograph shadowed away in his helmet.
"When you feel like you're losing it, just look at that. It'll keep you who you are," he advised. "You don't want to go home to your mama changed, and trust me, this war is changing boys faster than they can change their clothes."
Adam nodded sagely.
"Do you ever get scared?" he murmured and Dean drew on his cigarette for a moment.
"Yes," he said after a minute.
"What do you do?" Adam's voice was quaking. "I was...I was scared shitless during that last raid. I thought I was going to die. I really did. I didn't even know what to do."
Dean swallowed thickly, trying not to think about the last raid. They'd burned the village to the ground; so many little ones watching them do it. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them.
"Just pick something. Something that makes you happy, and you think of it. Then you hold onto it until your legs work again and you can get your bearings and know what you're supposed to do."
"What do you think of?"
Dean hesitated.
"A lot of things."
He shook his hand, his cigarette having burned down a little too close to his skin. "I imagine I'm looking through a movie camera - just filming it. For a documentary or some shit. That usually helps, and when you're remembering later, you can't hear nothin'. Nobody screaming or bitching or any of it."
"Do you think of her?" Adam whispered, peering at Dean. The older man wasn't looking at him, but the floor. Adam wanted to know - he wanted to know the secret. Why Dean kept her locked up, away from all of them.
"Not if I can help it," Dean confessed, feeling sick to his stomach. He had promised he would - he had, but he couldn't bring himself to when they were in the field. "They've got no place here," he trailed off, "If I think about them too long this place is going to grab hold of them like one of those huge snakes - those big long fuckers that you almost step on. It'll swallow h-..." He cut himself off and took a last pull from his smoke.
"Can you help it?" Adam tried, and Dean smiled sadly.
"Not usually," he murmured, dropping the third stub to the ground, pressing his foot down like the rest. "But that's how it goes. That's what you gotta do. You think of your mama, you think of that medallion or St. Michael, hell, think of my gorgeous face, you won't be scared."
Adam rolled his eyes and both of them looked to the opening of the tent as Henrikson called for Dean, his voice booming through the base.
"Sure, Winchester," he mumbled, and Dean stood, walking out, ruffling Adam's hair as he went by. When he was gone, Adam stared around, eyes landing on Dean's cot and the small collection of things he had. There was a small date book and when Adam stood and flipped through it, curious, it wasn't filled with anything except x's on the calendars, no doubt counting down Dean's TOD. There weren't any letters, but there were scraps of paper with motorcycles drawn on them, and a cross section of an engine. Adam was impressed by these, but set them aside, looking for something. Something that would give her away.
Adam needed to see her face; needed to know Dean was right about it all.
He peered around, even glancing under his pillow, but there was literally nothing to indicate Dean had any family at all. Frustrated, Adam looked under the bed and saw Dean's helmet sitting idly beside one of the crossed legs. He could see the words "Buck Stops Here" written in black paint marker on the front, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. Everyone wrote something on their helmet. There was something else too, but Adam couldn't read it, and his insect repellent was tucked under the elastic, but that was really it. Footsteps made him straighten and he hustled out of the tent, still thinking about the helmet, but then everyone was gathering and he joined the flock.
Maybe the others were right - there was something more to Dean Winchester's story, but he wasn't willing to tell.