Operation Overlord -Destiel War!AU

2. Operation Neptune

They could all see it now. Every single person on every single boat had their eyes fixed on Omaha beach.

Dean picked up the weapon that was sitting in front of him and pushed it into Castiel's arms. "Are you religious, Cas?"

Cas took the shotgun and stared down at it as he nodded.

Dean put a hand on his shoulder. "Pray for all of us, would you?"

Castiel nodded again. "Always…" The gun in his hands was a Winchester. He looked from it to Dean and smiled slightly, taking a calming breath. He blocked out the shouts and focussed on the only reason he hadn't turned tail and ran for it. When he finally let the world back in, everything was in uproar.

It all happened at once. They started making their way off the boats, feet splashing in the water. That's when things started happening.

Cas knew that Stitch was dead as soon as the small, thin man crashed into him, sending him into the water. Castiel pushed the body off of him and tried his best not to look into those lifeless eyes. He was frozen, every joint and muscle was stuck in its place. Then a hand was in the back of his shirt and pulling him to his feet again. He was stumbling forward as loud bangs and the sound of gunfire blocked out absolutely everything else. He felt heat on his face but the only thing he could think of was moving forward. He had to get out of the water. Screams echoed around him as his friends fell to the ground. A loud explosion and more gunfire put to rest an entire boat of men. All of those people… gone in under an hour.

"Move! Move!" Dean roared.

Cas lifted his gun and started firing. His hands were so shaky and he was scared that he was going to hit one of their own, but he dodged around the huge spiky anti-tank mechanisms that stuck out of the ground and… he hit someone, right in the shoulder. His breath caught in his throat and he turned, not wanting to see the young man falling. They were all young, really. When Cas looked at their faces, he saw teenagers, young boys who were clearly terrified. Cas watched the rest of the beach, feet locked in place as he watched blood slowly seeping into the ground.

Then something smashed into him and he was squished into the ground as another something went sailing over his head.

"We need to get out of here!" Dean shouted and rolled off of Cas, grabbing hold of the man's shirt and started to pull him up. "We need to go!"

Cas stood and started to do as he was instructed. He tripped and fell, facing grazing painfully along the sand as the shotgun skidded away from him. He pushed himself up immediately and reached out for the weapon. His helmet tipped in front of his eyes and he struggled to adjust it. He felt a weight on his back as someone fell on top of him. It briefly crossed his mind that he could just stay where he was and pretend to be dead until everything was over, but he decided against it. He pushed off from the ground and sprinted for the closest place he could hide. Castiel felt wind rushing in his ear and loud zipping noises as he narrowly avoided bullets that had come flying his way. A man in front of him went up in a ball of flame as he stood on a land mine and Cas was sent flying backwards, landing back on the ground. He needed to stay on his feet. He needed to keep running.

Dean was grabbing his arm and pulling him up and to the side. "Stay focussed!" he roared, barely audible over the rest of the sounds that were jamming themselves into Castiel's ears. Dean had been running beside him the whole time, stopping to shout at as many of the others as he could.

Cas nodded and looked up. He could see that some of the other men were racing up to higher ground. Some of them didn't make it, and even those guys, Cas thought, probably had a better chance of making it than he did. He wasn't particularly fast. He'd barely scraped through physical examinations and the gun felt alien in his hands. He wasn't a killer. His hands shook and his finger refused to behave as he aimed the shotgun and pulled the trigger.

Dean's hand was still curled into the rough, thick material of Castiel's shirt as they started running.

Hours, it took them, before the even got close to leaving for safety.

Cas' eyes were fixed on where he was going. He could hear dean's gun going off behind him, leaving a dull ringing in his ear. Then he fell. At first he didn't realised what had happened. Then there was a white hot pain in his side and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't see, he couldn't hear anything but his own laboured breathing. The rest of the world might as well have not existed. He'd been shot. That was the only explanation for it.

"Cas?! Castiel?!" Dean's voice was quiet and muffled and Cas wasn't sure if it was even real.

The only thing he knew was real was the intense burn that was blocking everything out. All he could see was white and spots. He heard himself gasp and he felt sand getting into his ear, but he couldn't do anything about it. He felt so weak, so drained that he couldn't move a muscle. He could feel the sand scraping along his face and a tugging sensation in his arm.

Dean was pulling him, dragging him somewhere safer. Dean bent down and bit his lip as he looked back to the fighting. Then he grabbed hold of Cas and lifted him up, struggling to keep hold of the man as he hauled out of the fray.

Cas could only just make out Dean's shape, standing over him. He could only just feel the hands as they prodded at his side, causing the pain to stab at his brain again. "Leave… me…" he managed to choke out.

"No way. It's only a graze, you'll be fine. A little rest and you'll be up and fighting." Dean was tearing off some sort of bandage thing and pressing it to Cas' wound. "Just a scratch…"

Cas tried to sit up, but he could hardly twitch a finger, let alone use his stomach muscles. He groaned and shut his eyes.

They had all crowded into the one place, setting up a small area to treat the wounded. From this place, they could all see the beach. They could see every single one of the men that had fallen and they were hidden from the German army's view. To minimize their losses, they didn't send everyone out at once, and if someone got injured and could be brought back safely, that's what they would do; otherwise, the wounded would just have to stay and hope for the best.

Cas had managed to pull himself up and onto his feet. He was panting heavily and sweating and blood was seeping from the gash in his side, but he was standing.

Dean was pacing, glancing nervously down at the beach. He wondered how many other people had clambered to safety. He wondered how many men hadn't even made it out of the water.

Cas limped over to him. "It's not over yet… you know, if we could get around the back of those bunkers… That'd be something." There was a long pause between every few words as he had to stop and catch his breath.

Dean turned to face Castiel. "That's a good idea. I think some of the others were thinking of that already. We're still going to win this, you know." Dean smiled and rested a hand on Cas' shoulder.

They were heading back down, weapons in hands, eyes wide and hearts pounding.

They'd been walking for a while when Dean stopped in front of them and turned on Cas. "Go. Back," he whispered furiously.

Cas shook his head stubbornly. "It's only a graze, like you said. It's fine."

Dean readjusted his stance. "You will only hold us down. You're weak. Go back."

"No."

"Castiel, I am ordering you to go back. Right now."

Cas was about to say no again when another gunshot sounded closer by than the others.

Dean dropped to the ground.

For a moment Cas thought that Dean had merely ducked, but he looked down and saw blood. Castiel lifted his gun and tried to find the person who'd shot.

Whoever it was, they shot again because suddenly, Castiel's leg was on fire and he was trying to stay standing, but it wasn't working for him. He looked down to see Dean's face, pale and still and Cas' leg gave out and he fell, his elbow slamming into Dean as he fell. The shouting over-head continued and Cas just couldn't move. The pain in his side came back and it was all just too much.

"Winchester's dead!"

That was the last thing he heard before the explosion, the blast of heat and the ringing in his ears pushed out the world.