Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural

…

"Daddy?"

John looked up from his coffee mug. A six year old boy was standing in the doorway, looking awkward. He shuffled his feet, looking down at the floor as though embarrassed by something. His curly hair fell in front of his chubby cheeks, hiding his big hazel eyes.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"I uh…" Sammy gulped before saying, "It's May 2nd."

John blinked, trying not to show his surprise. Truth be told, he had forgotten all about Sammy's birthday. He was just lucky Sammy reminded him.

"Happy birthday, tiger." John said, plastering a fake smile on his face for Sammy's benefit. Sammy didn't smile back, he looked up at John with slightly nervous eyes and said: "I want one thing for my birthday."

"Okay tiger, what do you want?" he asked him, hoping he wouldn't have to deny Sammy anything.

"Uhm –" Sam shuffled his feet again. "I want to know what mom looked like…"

John's heart did a front-flip. He couldn't speak from surprise. Sammy was looking scared, as though he hadn't meant to say it.

"Oh." John finally managed. "Oh."

He stared at Sammy, who was still avoiding his gaze. "Well your mom, she was…she was beautiful. I have a picture," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the last picture he had ever taken with her. She looked beautiful, with her blonde hair flying off of her face and a happy smile.

Sammy's eyes lit up and he went to sit on his dad's lap, staring at the picture as though it were a shiny new toy. "She was beautiful," Sammy murmured, his eyes light. "I wish I knew her."

John swallowed, his throat tightening. "I wish you did too."

Sam reached out a tiny hand and traced her face gently. "Did she love me?"

John squeezed his son tight, planting a kiss on his hair. "She did love you. She loved you and your brother more than anything in the world," he told his son, tears threatening to escape.

"Even you?" Sam asked in amazement.

"Even more than me," John said, nodding. "She loved you both so much."

"What was she like?" Sam asked.

"What was she like…?" John thought about this question. There was so many things he could tell his son, but they could be here all night. "She was…amazing. The kindest person you could ever meet. She was so sweet and caring, but she had a tough streak, ya know?" John almost forgot he was talking to a six-year old, but Sammy was staring at him as though he knew exactly what his dad was talking about. "Her favorite music was country. She loved this one band, called 'The Ravens', I'll never forget how she used to sing and dance to it. Her favorite color was baby blue, like your nursery. I liked green myself…like Dean's room was…" he trailed off. Sam hadn't said a word, but was still staring at him with wide, curious eyes. "She loved swimming. There was a lake that we always used to go to, you were just a baby. Couldn't even talk. But you loved it there. A butterfly once landed right on your nose, and I still remember how you laughed. Your mother went to get it off of you, because it was making you sneeze," he chuckled, "and then it landed right on her head. It wouldn't leave her alone, but she loved it. I could tell. Dean had a bug catcher and we brought it home. She named it Lily."

"What happened to Lily?"

"We finally let Lily go in the backyard. Dean wanted to, because he didn't like that Lily was in a cage. Me and your mother were planning on getting a cat…well, I wanted a dog," he smiled sadly. "but your mother loved cats."

"She did?"

"Yep. We were looking for kittens, but your mother wanted a pure white one. We couldn't find any, so we decided to wait until the perfect one came along."

"You didn't get one though…" Sammy guessed.

"No," John agreed, "we didn't get around to it. But your mother was happy with you and your brother. She had everything she ever wanted. Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

Sammy looked at the ground, thinking. "No," he finally said. He hesitated for a minute, and then asked: "Dad…when I get big enough…can I have that picture?"

John blinked, not expecting that question. He looked down at the picture of him and his wife. His Mary. The last memory he had of her.

"I won't lose it!" Sammy said quickly. "I just…when I get big enough. Not now," he said.

John gave the picture one last, long look before he said. "Of course I will Sammy."

The smile on Sammy's face made up for the lost picture.

…

Sixteen years later

"You leave this house Sam," John growled, anger flaring in his eyes, "and you don't come back. You hear me? Don't come back!"

Sam's eyes widened in hurt and confusion. "I only wanted to go for a couple years…I could come back and help you after –"

"Don't you dare say it Sam. We were supposed to be a family, and you went behind our backs!"

"But Dad –"

"No. GET OUT. Go to your stupid college, learn stuff that won't even help you."

Sam's eyes turned defiant. "Fine. I will."

Without another word he walked out of the shack and slammed the door shut, going out into the night. He couldn't believe his dad had told him to stay out of their lives…shut him out. Well fine, if he wanted it that way, he'd have it that way. I don't need them! Sam's throat threatened to tighten up, and he had to swallow down his sadness, before he started bawling. Tears were threatening to escape, and he had to blink rapidly.

Something was scratching against his leg. He looked down at his thigh, where the thin edge of paper was digging through a hole in his pocket. He reached for it and looked at it, a smile forming on his face.

His mother and father were beaming at him, without a care in the world. He knew at that moment, he would keep this picture forever.

…

The end. How was it? I wrote the story thinking about the picture Sam had in Pilot, the one that John and Mary had taken. I just wanted a story behind it.