HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, DEANNIE MINE! I LOVE YOU! AND YOU'RE STILL TOTALLY SEXY AT THE AGE OF 35! aaaand i feel like a dean!becky fan, that's not good... i should detox myself at the panic room... damn it. good luck to me.
i am late by one day! how could i have done it?! i was so slow and only yesterday i let my perfect friend 'whipped by an angel' beta it and then shabbath came in so only now i could go over it one final time before presenting you the birthdays of Dean Winchester, my love!
btw, my beta is the best there is out there! i love her so much! and she's mine! my castiel! (apparantly, i'm dean and she's cas... well, it's because she's older and i don't want to be sam. but she is in love with cas *coughmishacough* so it all works out ;p)
i love you guys and please review for this story, i'll ever love you guys!
p.s. i wrote this before episode 9x10-field trip, and i thought the time table worked out, because they really don't give the story date in the episodes (only the publication date, which is completely out of sync with the story's date).
p.s.s. i thought the only good thing about 'bad boys' was that it showed Dean's teenager's life more truthfully than i thought. because hormones and stuff? maybe it's a bit different with dean, but i still think he had this moment he wanted to kill his father and brother, like really.
p.s.s.s if you're an idiot and you have no idea what fanfiction means, this show is not mine, though i would like Dean to be here... in my apartment... talking to me... i really have a lot of questions to him, SERIOUSLY!
well, i think that's enough for now, have fun! *waves*
24th January, 1979
"Just a bit more! One last push!" The midwife told the sweaty blond-haired woman on the bed, lying face-up with a white sheet draped over her legs. The woman glared at her for a moment before she gritted her teeth and released a shuddering breath as she pushed one last time. Everything was silent for a tense second before a loud cry echoed throughout the room, and a small and red baby was revealed from under the sheets.
"Congratulations, it's a boy."
The woman's eyes softened as she reached her arms out to take the baby. The nurse shook her head and ignored the scowl the woman gave her. "I'm sorry, dear, but we need to wash your boy first before letting you hold him."
"I don't care," The woman hoarse voice said stubbornly. "Now give my boy to me, Berry. And call John, will ya?"
"You should talk more like a woman, Mary," Berry grumbled and ignored the fuming woman in favor of washing the boy briskly before handing him to the shaking hands of the fair-haired woman named Mary. Mary cradled the screaming baby to her chest, green eyes looking lovingly at screwed-shut eyes. She shh'd the baby and, slowly, the newborn calmed down and stopped crying, small chest settling to a steady rhythm of going up and down as he slept peacefully.
"He's such an adorable thing," One of the other nurses remarked as she chuckled at Mary and the baby.
"Yeah, and got a good pair of lungs in him as well. Stubborn, too. Never stopped crying until mommy dearest held him," Another one, a plump old lady, said in a teasing tone.
"Don't you have better things to do?" Mary interrupted them, holding the baby protectively close to her. "I don't like you talking about us like that. If you don't need to be here, could you please go away and call my husband? Or do I need to repeat myself for third time?"
Berry sighed, dismissed the other nurses and went out to get John.
"Mary." The fair haired woman snapped to look at the door to see a young man stand at the entrance, his dark eyes wide, excitement and fear fighting with each other in the glistening orbs.
"Here he is," Mary said with a watery smile, the sunrays from the window hitting the newly mother and the newborn just right, making their fair hair glisten, as if a halo, like a picture of the holy mother and son in churches. "Here is your boy, John."
John inched hesitantly, eyes taking in his beaming wife and his new son. He sat on the bed besides her, wrapping one arm around her and one arm around his newborn son.
"He's beautiful, Mary," John whispered softly, afraid of shattering the peaceful scene he was partaking in. "Did you name him already?"
"Well… I was thinking of naming him as one of our parents, you know… to remember them?" Mary asked, biting her lip in thought and shrugged.
John chuckled. "Sure, I would like that. But not my dad, he ain't worth it."
"So my dad?"
"Samuel?"
"Yeah."
John glanced at the baby and, at the same moment, the baby opened his eyes, revealing bright green eyes, so like his mother and he couldn't help but mirror the smile the smile Mary had.
"Doesn't suit him," Mary laughed. "Too pale for him."
"Don't talk about your son like that," John joined in the laughter, laughing louder when the baby gurgled in delight.
"Huh. He reminds me of your mom-" John blinked and his smile widened. He turned to the confused Mary and kissed her deeply on her lips.
"I know what to call him."
"What?"
"How about calling him like your mother?"
"Deanna?" Mary said in disbelief, shaking in laughter. "He's a boy last time I checked."
"Well, we can change it to… Dean."
"Dean… I like that name." Mary said, an unfamiliar emotion coursing through her and her smile dropped for a moment.
"What's wrong, Mary?" John noticed her smile falling.
Mary shook her head. "Nothing, just have a weird feeling about that name."
"So we won't call him that-"
"No, no. It suits him… I feel like the name Dean belonged to him since you mentioned it." She looked at the baby in their intertwined arms. "Dean… I like that name."
"Well, I think that too," John whispered to her ear, making her chuckle. Mary then looked at her son and smiled brightly with her husband.
"Welcome to the family, Dean," She muttered.
Dean gurgled at his parents, happily oblivious to his impending fate.
1980
"Happy birthday to you~ happy birthday to you~ happy birthday, dear Dean~ happy birthday to you~" Mary sang brightly as she brought the small cake to the table where a one-year old baby was sitting on a young man's lap by the table. Dean clapped his chubby hands and laughed, his laugh like a jingle of bells, pure and happy. Mary's heart surged in her chest as she saw her family smiling like that. Finally, after all the bloodshed, the horrible deaths and the hunting, she finally has this peace and normalcy with her boys. John caught her eye and smiled charmingly, that same smile that never failed to make her feel like she was meeting him for the first time all over again. She beamed at her boys and settled the cake before Dean, who decided that it would be a good idea to thrash his hands into the frosting and eating his now yummy hands.
John and Mary laughed loudly at their son's antics. John carefully pried Dean's hands from his mouth and reprimanded him playfully, "You need to learn some manners before you can eat the cake, Dean."
But apparently the baby didn't care, because he just struggled to get to the cake, but when he couldn't, he started tearing up. John's eyes grew alarmed and he immediately let the hands free. Dean squealed, all tears gone and he gorged himself in the frosted cake his mother made.
Mary laughed loudly at her husband's astounded expression. "Oh dear, you fell into his trap. Don't worry, you lose the fight but win the war," She teased him. John tensed a bit at the sound of war, but it was so subtle, just in his subconscious that none of them noticed. He scoffed at her. "Hey, you never told me you taught my son to be a deadly weapon to all humankind."
Mary flashed him her best innocent look, "Well, you never asked, my love."
"I guess it's too late for that, isn't it?"
"Most likely," Mary had a sing-a-song tone in her reply. "Not my fault you didn't recognize the hints."
"I guess you win, huh?" John mock-glared at his son, who stayed oblivious to the whole exchange, engrossed in his mighty quest to finish the frosting and get to the pie immediately.
"I think that's enough for now," Mary pried Dean from the cake and ignoring his protests and threatening screams, she took him to the sink, where she washed him and landed a big kiss on his nose.
"You're such an amazing kid, Dean." She looked at the angel porcelain doll she had on the counter and smiled, looking back at the wide-green eyed innocent baby. "Angels are watching over you, Dean." Dean only pouted childishly and clapped his hands, obviously wanting more cake, but she only laughed and took his to his bedroom, seeing it was already getting late.
At the room, the baby was refusing to sleep and Mary sighed. She saw in movies that the mother would sing a nursery song to calm down their babies and get them to fall asleep. However, she didn't know any nurseries songs, so she decided to hum something and see where it would develop from there. She hummed a random tune, taking it a few seconds for her to realize that she was humming 'Hey Jude' from The Beatles. So she decided to try this one.
"Hey Jude… don't make it bad… take a sad song and make it better…" She sang softly, watching as her son blinked in sleepiness, his eyes drooping down. He quickly fell asleep and she felt a smile tug on her lips as she saw her son sleep so peacefully and unaware of the world. She then swore to herself that she was going to fight to make this a reality for her boy until the day he dies of old age, oblivious to the dark side of the world, to the death, the blood and the monsters. To reality. She wanted her son to in a utopia, to be happy and to find someone to care for him and love him like he deserves.
"You're my angel, Deannie. And I love you no matter what."
1983
Seriously, would it kill John to be enough of a father to come for his son's birthday?
It has been a week since their latest fight and she couldn't stand it anymore. If he wasn't off of his high place by the time their new addition to the family is born, he was going to find another woman to put up with his arrogance and stubbornness.
"Mommy?" Dean's small voice halted her thoughts and she looked down, weary green eyes boring into innocent similar set of eyes. "Did Daddy hurt you again?"
"No, Deannie, I was just thinking too hard," Mary answered truthfully and crouched before her soon-to-be eldest and cupped his face, feeling his soft wavy blond hair framing his chubby face.
"You okay, then?" Dean smiled bashfully, reminding Mary of John's first smile when they met. The boy was definitely a Winchester, a charmer even at youth.
"I'm fine, son. You want to do anything for this special morning?" Mary asked excitedly, covering her depression and sadness with a big smile.
Dean cocked his head to the side. "Special morning? But we celebrated New Year two…" He counted his fingers and raised up three fingers with a wide eyes. "Three weeks!"
"Oh, you silly," Mary laughed and patted the pouting boy. "It's your birthday today, Deannie, or did you forget?"
The brightening eyes gave her the answer and the child squealed and hugged his mother tightly. "I four today! Four! I big, am I?"
"Oh, you certainly are big." Mary hugged her son close to her, noting that the bump on her stomach made it hard to do so. She sat back on the floor with a huff, "I'm too fat to do anything right," She joked, but Dean's eyes grew wide in alarm.
"No, mama is no fattie! She most pretty… prettiest! Baby inside you make you big," Dean exclaimed, placing his hands on his mother's belly. "Wanna feel ma' lil' bro."
"How do you know it's a boy."
"It's not?"
"I don't know, but I think it would be a he," Mary promised her son. "If not, you have my permission to make her into one."
"Yay!" Dean cheered and placed his cheek on his mother's belly. "Wanna make something for new baby!"
"What do you want to make?"
"Pie! Lots and lots of pie!" Dean looked up with bright eyes and wide arms.
"I guess we should." Mary smiled. "But what do you want to do for your birthday, special boy?"
"Can I have Batman?" Dean asked sheepishly, a bit bashfully even.
Mary couldn't help but want to squeeze the hell out of her son's adorable lungs. He was too cute for his own good. It was a good thing she was reluctant to let him go to a kindergarten.
Suddenly, there was a feeling of being kicked and she heard a gasp from her eldest. She grinned as he felt her stomach with wide and awed innocent green eyes.
"He move inside you…" He said with such awe she felt humbled by it… a bit. He then looked up to his mother, "Do you think angels watch over him 'swell?"
"I'm sure, like they watch over you." Mary nodded. She doesn't believe in angels, never seen one, but something in her still-there hunter's instincts told her that they were real and that they has something to do with her boy. Only she didn't know if it was good or bad, she leaned more on the good.
Dean mumbled something to her stomach and she watched in affection as he petted her swollen belly and closed his eyes as if he was listening to something.
Yep, even though John wasn't here she wasn't regretting this one bit.
1984
Dean was silent, holding his baby brother close to him, eyes hard and hollow as he followed his father into Jim Murphy's living room. They had been staying at the priest's house for the past two months after learning about the man from someone Dean didn't know and didn't want to know, he was too occupied on feeding his baby brother out of a bottle, staring blankly at his brother's happy and oblivious face as he sucked the bottle for all it was worth.
John was learning something at the table while he sat on the couch, the nine-month old baby in his arms, gurgling in happiness, hazel eyes bright and innocent.
Something that wasn't Dean anymore… Not since that night.
"Dean?" He turned to his father, surprised to see him closer than he remembered last time he checked. He tilted his head to tell him he was listening. John sighed and ran a hand through his hair, dark eyes distant and wary. "Listen, I know today is your birthday and all… but you know I have some work to do, so do you want me to get you anything? A present or a cake?"
Dean simply shrugged. He didn't want anything as long he had his brother and father next to him, but he didn't say anything to uncover what he felt. John scrutinized him with his eyes, waiting for another response for a moment before sighing in defeat. He stood and walked back to the books littering the table.
Dean looked at the book and then at his brother, who was sleeping now then back at the book. He then reached a conclusion and swiftly placed his brother in his crib which was at the corner of the room. He hurried to his father. John was startled and Dean used that opening to climb on his lap and point defiantly at the text in the book.
John slowly blinked, looked at the English words and then back at his eldest, "You want to read?" Dean nodded. "You know how to?" A shake. "…You want me to teach you?" A nod. "You'll have to speak for that." A shake.
"Fine," John groaned and settled Dean on his lap. For a brief moment, he saw a small smile on the child's lips for the first time in almost three months. He sighed and placed his finger on the first word.
"This is 'Aristocrat', a type of person, okay?" Dean nodded in determination and John gulped. Well, it was now or never. "Now it starts with A…"
1987
"Damn it, Dean!" John shouted when Dean finally set a foot inside the motel room they were renting. "You were supposed to be home three hours ago! Where the hell were you?" He smacked the boy's head as a warning.
Dean stubbornly burned holes into the carpet on the floor, teeth gritted and hands clenched tight.
"Why are you so silent? Answer me right now, and that's an order!" Immediately Dean looked up in anger at his father, so mature for an eight year old boy.
"I was with my friends and lost track of time, that's all, sir," He grunted and stomped to his and his brother's shared bed. He dumped his crumbling bag carelessly on the floor before kicking his shoes off his feet and climbing on the bed, joining his brother under the sheets.
John sighed and went out of the room. He needed to clear his mind before the hunt tonight and after that, he would take his eldest to shooting again. What has gotten into him anyway? Oh well, he should be back to normal by the time he warps up the case.
Dean was lying in the bed, eyes cold and pained as he looked at his brother, who was sleeping peacefully, his small body, merely half the size of him and yet managing to take so much space. He swears his brother was kind of a chubby octopus.
"…De?" A small sleepy voice startled him and he saw his brother open his eyes and yawn, making Dean's poor heart melt at the adorable sight. He could never stay solemn with Sammy by his side. What would he have done without his precious brother next to him? "Where were you…? Thought you not want me no more."
"Never!" Dean was horrified. "I could never not want you, Sammy. You're everything to me. I was just… with friends…"
"What did you do?" Sam was suddenly alert and curious, eyes wide with childish brightness. "Did you go party?"
"Why party?" Dean asked amusingly.
"Well, it you birthday today!" Sam exclaimed, surprising Dean completely. How had he remembered? "Happy birthday, De!"
Tears welled in the boy's eyes. "You remembered…"
"'Course, how could not reme'ber?" Sam blinked, his face edging dangerously at a frown which later would be entitled 'bitchface'.
"Thank you, Sammy." Dean hugged his brother close to him.
"Did you get cake for birthday?" Dean nodded, beaming.
"A pecan pie Jim's mom made. I wanted to get some for you but everyone finished it too fast. If you want, I can ask her for more if you want."
"Don't like…" Sam pouted, clearly lying.
"Yeah, and I'm Batman."
"But you like Batman…"
"Exactly. I'm sorry I didn't get you some."
"'ts okay… I know you want bring me some…"
"Let me tell you what," Dean offered. "On your birthday I'll bribe some nice lady to bring you your favorite cake and then you can eat how much as you like. Okay?"
Sam nodded enthusiastically and his eyes brightened even more and Dean's heart clench at the thought that one day this innocence would be shattered when his baby brother would find out about the real world. But not now, and if Dean has a say in it, not ever.
"Good. Now go to sleep, before dad will suspect that we are still awake, and you don't want that, do you?" Dean joked playfully, knowing fully well that his father was already out and ganking the spirit by the old house at the edge of the street.
Sam shook his head and suddenly he cupped his brother's face and sploshed a very wet kiss on Dean's forehead. At the boy's startled gaze, Sam smiled.
"Saw that mothers do that to birthday boy, and mommy's not here so I want to kiss you happy birthday, De!" He answered innocently at the silent question.
That was too much for the poor boy. Dean's gates crumbled and he embraced his brother tightly as he silently sobbed into Sam's shoulder.
"Thank you, Sammy. Thank you so much." He cried and his surprised brother didn't what to do, or what made his strong big brother cry.
"Are you hurt? Why crying, De? Did someone say mean words to you?" The small creature tried to reassure his brother. Dean barked a wet laugh and shook his head.
"You're just the best brother in the world, Sammy. Don't ever change, will you?"
Sam blushed a bit and pouted. "Don't lie, De."
"I'm not," Dean retorted, perplexed.
"Yea, you lie. 'Cuz you are best brother in the whole universe!"
"Sammy…" Dean's answer was halted by the youngster's yawn and sleepy blink.
"'m tired, De…" Sam snuggled into his brother's arms and fell asleep in moments, living a dumbfound eight year old boy to lay there, his arms full of his brother and trying to sink in what he had just heard.
Slowly, a smile formed on his face and he suppressed more tears as he embraced Sam for a moment before letting his eyes close and his body fall into the sweet embrace of sleep.
"Happy birthday to me…"
1992
They were in the middle of hunting a witch when he found out that, today, he was turning thirteen.
Usually, a kid would jump for joy at the thought of getting presents or a cake but Dean didn't have time to dwell on that, seeing he was bound at the moment to a chair while the witch was having her time listing her favorite aspects of children.
"And to sacrifice a kid on his birthday is the one with the most juice. When his birth and death are joined together!" She was literary drooling at the thought, making Dean flinch at the gross expression on the wrinkled face.
But now that she mentioned it… his eyes grew a little wider, it was the 24th of January. He was thirteen now… shit. His eyes hardened again, not wanting to let the witch to know that he forget about today.
"So, what do you want?" The witch continued on, not realizing that her captor wasn't paying attention to her anymore. "Do you want cake of your blood? Or a puzzle from your bones? Oh! Oh! I got it! A necklace from your teeth. Lovely set of teeth you have there. It would be a shame for it to do to waste, right?"
Dean deadpanned. "You know something, miss? I don't think I ever got a worse present ever, and that was including the time when my brother got me a magic wand, thinking I'm a wizard or something."
The woman turned to him, seething. "Now, we won't have that~" She sing-songed manically. She crouched before him and traced a knife over his neck, grazing it a bit. Dean gulped as she watched in fascination at the blood trailing down his neck. "You're so pretty… and your aura shines so brightly, so purely. I need that juice."
"Sorry old hag, I don't swing your way. Too much wrinkles, ew," He made a disgusted face and yelped when the witch grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, revealing more of his injured neck.
"I'm going to make you regret saying that." She took the knife and muttered in an ancient language, making the knife grow hotter and hotter, making the skin on his neck blister and burn. Dean bit back a scream and screwed his eyes shut, wishing that his father would show up soon.
"Let go of my son, you bitch!" A shot was heard, followed by a scream and a hiss as the knife fell on the floor. Dean chanced a look and let out a relieved sigh as he saw his father holding a smocking gun and the witch on the floor with a hole on her forehead, blood trickling down her face.
"Dad," Dean croaked, winching as he felt the burnt patch on his neck move.
"Dean." John looked his way and dropped the gun, rushing to him and gathering him in his arms. "Oh god, I thought I lost you when I found the place deserted with Sammy crying in the bathroom." He quickly worked on the restrains and freed his son, hauling him onto his arms, despite Dean's protests.
"No way, I'm not letting you out of my sight until I'm burning this fucker's house."
"Well, she was fugly," Dean tried to joke weakly, biting back a whimper.
John swiftly brought him to the car, where he grabbed the first aid and placed a cool ointment patch on the burn. Dean hissed at the touch, few tears escaping his eyes.
Sam was waiting for them in the motel, eyes wide and scared, only recently learning about the supernatural.
"Dean!" Said boy cried as he saw his older brother being carried into the motel room, protesting all the way and being scolded by his father. Dean looked down at his brother and jumped from his father's arms, this time John letting him, and hugged the distrust boy.
"I'm so sorry, Sammy. I didn't mean to worry you."
Sam shook his head. "You protected me from that scary woman."
"Dean." The middle Winchester winched and looked over to his father, a bit surprised to see a lack of disappointment and anger. Instead, for the first time in a long time, he saw love and warmth.
"Yeah, Dad?" He asked hesitantly, wondering what was going on.
"I… I'm sorry that I let you stay alone, especially that today is…"
Dean didn't want him to finish that though. "It's fine, don't worry about it, Dad. It's not that important anyway."
John sighed. "I knew you would say that." He then smiled and took out a small bag.
Dean's eyes were bulging out of their sockets as he took the small bag and rattled it a bit, trying to find out what it was by the sound.
Sam laughed. "Just open it, silly."
"Nerd." Dean smiled a bit and opened the bag, taking out a gun. "Is that what I think it is?"
"An 1191 colt? Well, you guessed right," John huffed in pride. "I thought of finally giving you your own gun. You deserve it."
Now Dean knew there were tears in his eyes for sure. "Thank you, Dad… it really means a lot for me."
"You're the best shot in the world!" Sam piped up, a big goofy smile on his face. "Happy birthday, big brother."
"Happy birthday, Dean."
"Thank you guys." Dean nodded, mindful of his neck. Oh, who was he kidding? He can't open his mouth for the fear of breaking down right there in front of his family, something he won't ever live down.
1997
"So, when are you leaving?" Jenny whispered sadly against Dean's mouth. "Your dad came back yesterday and all."
"I don't know, Jen," Said teen sighed. "He said he found another job to do around the corner so Sammy and I can stay here until the end of the school year, I guess."
"That's great!" Jenny exclaimed and tackled Dean to the sofa, swallowing his yelp. "I'm so happy!"
Dean smiled cheekily at her and pulled her to his lap, moving his mouth to her ear. "Want to show me how much you like that?" He breathed and brushed her brown hair away.
Jenny shivered and smiled back, her eyes wide and lustful. "Want to show me all those techniques you have been bragging about?"
"Oh, you're on," Dean winked and hauled her to his bedroom.
"Oh, for god's sake!" Sam exclaimed as his brother was talking heatedly about his girlfriend. "Would you shut up about her? I know you like her, and that's something, but stop talking my ear off!"
"You would like every girl who drops herself to your feet, begging to be taken."
"Ew! Dean! Too much!" The youngster made vomiting voices. "After that time of walking in on that session, I don't think I would ever want to do that!"
"Oh, you'll change your mind quite soon," Dean promised his brother.
Sam bitchfaced. "Jerk."
"Bitch! And you know I'm right!"
"Oh, I hope you drown the next time you're in the bathroom," He started walking away.
"You won't get rid of me that easily~!" The voice haunted the poor pre-teen all the way to his room.
"Fuckin' jerk makes me want to trash what I got him for his birthday," Sam grumbled as he sat on the bed and took the wrapped box from his desk. "I hate him so much…" He turned to box, staring at it vacantly. "Wonder if he even knows he's eighteen soon. Most likely not… that idiot."
"I need you on this hunt," John told coldly to Dean a day later at dinner made of Chinese takeout.
Dean looked at him and nodded, face blank and void from any feelings, but his fingers were twitching and Sam knew he was bristling inside and that he was probably thinking of Jenny.
"You've got a problem with that?" John threateningly asked. Dean shook his head and smiled cheekily.
"No, sir, was just wondering what was it about?"
"A wendigo, but it seems that it was joined by a shapeshifter, if what the pictures are showing is true."
"That's… unusual."
"That's why I need you."
"I see… when do we head out?"
"Tomorrow morning."
Sam saw his brother clench his jaw, his hands twitching even more. Dean pushed his dinner away and stood up. "I'm retiring for the night. Good night, Dad, Sammy," He added blankly and walked tersely to his room, slamming the door behind him.
"What's his deal?" John grumbled and had his youngest shoot him a disbelieving look.
"You told us we can stay here until the end of the school year. Dean has a girlfriend he is actually serious about for once and maybe he doesn't hate this school completely."
"It would be a short hunt, Sam," John rolled is eyes. "And it's just a girl. He finds one everytime we stop by a school."
"Arrgh," Sam growled and slammed his hands to the table. "I can't believe you!" He kicked the table and stomped away, leaving a confused and a bit angry man behind.
"Those kids are unbelievable, for Christ's sake."
"Dean, you can't just leave Jenny behind," Sam tried for the last time to convince his brother to stay. Dean only shook his head and ruffled his hair with a playful grin. "Take care of her until I come back, 'kay? Be back in a shake."
"Jerk."
"Bitch," Dean retorted as he slid to the passenger's side of the Impala, his pride obviously wounded when he can't drive his baby.
Sam looked as his father and brother drove away and went inside, slamming the door behind him. The only time they rented an apartment and he wants to scratch up the walls in frustration.
For the next two days, the phone rang persistently until Sam had enough and answered the phone.
"What?" He hissed.
"Sam? It's Jenny… I thought you guys left." He heard her take a deep breath.
"Dad took Dean to help him on the job for a while. He would be back soon." Sam felt sorry for her. "Just to make you feel better, Dean was fighting the whole way."
"But he's eighteen tomorrow! He can do whatever he wants!"
"It's different with our dad… and how did you know Dean's birthday is tomorrow."
Jenny laughed shortly. "Don't underestimate the hacking powers of a girl on a mission."
"You took his driving license, didn't you?"
"Busted that fast? Your brother was right, you are a genius."
"He called me that?" His chest felt warm.
"Was bragging about you joining the geek club of physics and math. He also told me you were talking to the priest that was looking down at you in fluent Latin, completely flooring him In front of everyone."
Sam blushed a deep red. "I don't-"
"And he told me that you helped your dad with the job, bringing in a solution that they couldn't see and were looking for in a long time."
"But Dean was the one that-"
"Just accept the praise, will ya? Dean doesn't give praises so lightly."
Sam wanted to tell her that that only applied to strangers because he was showered with praises left and right from his 'macho' brother.
"Thank you…"
"Your welcome," Jenny chimed. "Now… do you have any idea for his birthday party?"
Sam smirked, that he can roll with. "Sure! So listen…"
"Damn it, I really hate those sons of bitches," Dean bitched as he cleaned his bloodied chest after he stitched up his father. He hissed as he poured holy water over his slashed skin. "Damn shapeshifters forming as wendigos."
"Well, at least now we know it wasn't an alliance," John grumbled back.
Dean snapped. "Yeah, that makes me so fuckin' better. Gee, thanks dad."
"Mind your tone with me, son," John growled in warning.
"Yes, sir," Dean winched, looking down as he gritted his teeth. Why is that now, after his quiet teenager years, now his rebellious side was rearing his head? He felt like smashing his father's head into the nearest wall and walk away to live his own life. But he wasn't supposed think that way. He can't be reckless or selfish. He has Sam and people to save. He has responsibility that he can't run away from.
He sighed as he wrapped his chest, glad he doesn't need any stitches, unlike his unfortunate father.
"We will return to Texas tonight, so pack up. And you're the one driving, okay?"
"Yes, sir," Dean regarded his father for a moment before going back to ignoring him. John's eyes narrowed, but he was too tired to actually question his son, so he instead ignored him back and flopped on the bed, falling asleep in minutes.
Dean stared at his father's back for a while until his eye caught sight the calendar and today's date.
"Shit," He groaned. It was his birthday today. 'What a better way to celebrate my birthday than to finish up a hunt without any more victims and barely any injuries?' he thought sarcastically. It's not like he was expecting a gift or a friggin' party, he could do very well without them. It's just that he grew up in a year… and no one cared. Why should he care anyway? Get a grip, Winchester.
He sighed, curled into his bedding and fell asleep, dreaming of his family and Jenny all joining together for a birthday meal.
Dean was grumpy all the way to Texas and if it wasn't for the blues bursting through the radio, John would have ducked him a good one and then demand what the hell was wrong with him.
Dean, on the other side, hated the way the dark crept, signaling the end of the day, and even though he won't admit it, his birthday… a day that used to be the most important day in the year for his parents before the fire, before everything. Now it was a day like any other. Hell, Sunday was more special than his birthday, and that's saying a lot.
He had made sure that his baby brother wouldn't ever feel the emptiness of another birthday gone by without even an acknowledgment or a worthwhile gift. He wasn't going to let his brother suffer more than he already did, and that's final.
It was long after the sun had risen when Dean had pulled over by their rented house and swiftly exited the Impala, striding past the door before John could even close the door behind him.
Dean closed his bedroom's door softly, so as to not awake his still sleeping brother, and flopped himself on the bed, trying to breath through his constricted chest. He felt as if the shapeshifter was still sitting on him and strangling him, only the pain was also deep, deep inside, someplace no one have access to.
"God damn it." He covered his wet eyes with his right arm, taking a shuddering breath. "Why do I care so friggin' much? This is just a normal day… who fuckin' cares that I have a fuckin' birthday? It's not important, not as much as killing those sonovabitches and saving those people." He exhaled a sob and covered his mouth as he rolled to his side and drew the covers around him as he hid himself completely under the blanket. Only when he couldn't be seen by anyone did he start crying, weeping for his broken heart and young soul. He was tired and hormonal and just wanted for once in his life, a hand to soothe him. He ached for his mother's arms to embrace him, to whisper into his ear how much he was loved, how much she cherished the day he was born because he was special, because he was her angel.
"Is it my fault that mom died?" He asked softly, like a child lost in the woods. "Is it a punishment for something that I did?" He opened his teary eyes and looked into the darkness and wished it would swallow him whole, devour his soul and plunge it into the void, giving the so needed rest he craved for.
He was so out of it that when something touched his blanket-covered shoulder, he jumped and a knife almost found its way to the intruder's neck, who squeaked in shock.
"De-Dean?" Shit, it was Jenny. Dean oh'd and let the knife fall from his hand, eyes wide and mouth agape.
"H-hi, Jenny," He stammered and rubbed his eyes, trying to hide his tears behind an act of rubbing tired eyes to wake up. "What's up?"
Jenny eyed the knife. "I ain't gonna even question that. But are you okay?" She apparently saw his tears. Once again, shit.
"I'm fine," He snapped. "I'm just tired. It has been a long job and the clients were annoying. I'm sorry."
And god bless her, Jenny could take a hint and let it drop. Her father was a psychologist and she could read him like an open book, so he was glad she didn't try to make him open up or he would have used his knife for sure.
"Come, I have something for ya," She smiled and grabbed his arm and pulled him down the stairs, a suspicious glint in her eyes.
"Where you taking me?" He inquired when she rounded the block to a familiar house. "Why are we going to your house?"
"Wait an' see, Deannie," She winked at him and he groaned.
"You just had to be some drama queen, don'tcha?"
"And you're the drama king," She retorted. "You can't win against me, babe."
"I hate you."
"I love you too, pretty boy," She sure loved to call him annoying names.
"Are we there yet?" He grumbled.
"Yep." She stopped and stepped aside to avoid him bumping into her. "Open your eyes wide and see what a wicked girlfriend and brother can do to make your day better."
"What the hell?" Dean spun around and saw his brother, since when is he here?, waving from a table with a big cake and two boxes next to it, a banner of 'happy birthday, Dean' raised from two poles.
"What the…?" Dean stood frozen in his place, unbelieving. "What the hell is going on?"
"Your birthday party, silly."
"Dean!" Sam rushed to his brother and tackled him, nearly sending them to the ground. "You finally here! Me and Jenny planned it two days ago and she wanted to have a big party, but I knew you wouldn't like that so I said we can make some cake and you'll be happy enough and then she said-mmmfgh." Dean quickly covered his brother's mouth, not really eager to hear more of his excited rant.
"Okay, I got it! Now get off o' me, bitch."
"Jerk," Sam retorted automatically. "Now let's have some cake."
Dean stood up with a grunt and got dragged by both Jenny and Sam to the table, stopping before the flaming candles and looking at it in confusion.
"Why are there candles on the cake?" He asked Jenny.
"You never made a wish upon candles?" He shook his head, ignoring Jenny's disapproving expression. "You have to make a wish and blow the candles."
"Oh, okay." Dean shrugged and turned back to the candles. Now what to wish for…
He suddenly smiled and blew the candles to the cheering of the duo.
"So what did you wish for?" Jenny asked him as they divided the cake, folding her hands on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.
Dean eyed her and smiled cheekily. "To end Dad's job."
Jenny laughed and gave him the plate. "Try making your father do that. Happy birthday, Dean."
"Thanks," He said. He didn't tell her that his other wish was already granted, to have someone to hold him and tell him happy birthday with love.
2001
"Dean, we need to gank that ghost now. What are you waiting for? A special invitation?" John spat as he saw Dean sitting by the window and watching vacantly out to the bustling street.
Said young man snapped to attention and he stood up stiffly, hands buried in his pockets, "Yes, sir."
John nodded and exited the room, followed by his son.
"Dean!" John shouted and Dean jumped to the side as the spirit appeared and tried to strangle him with a rope.
"That bastard!" Dean cursed as he swung the iron poker at it and resumed digging the grave. The spirit appeared again and John shot it.
"Thanks!"
"Less talking, more digging!" John snapped and shot once again, dodging the spirit, but instead getting hauled to the nearest grave. "Are you done?"
Dean's shovel hitting a hard surface answered the question. Dean pumped his fist up and uncovered the coffin, revealing the decayed corpse. He climbed out of the grave and took the salt and gasoline, pouring them on the corpse generously before taking his matches, lit up one and letting it fall.
John was about to get strangled by the spirit when it screamed and was engulfed by flames until it disappeared. He turned to congratulate his son only to see him watching the flames with an unknown emotion flickering in his eyes.
It was half a year since Sam had bailed at them, and Dean was still prone to depression and weeks of disappearance, probably checking on Sam and his new life in Stanford.
When they retreated for the night after the light treatment, nothing was serious anyway, John had reached a decision. He couldn't have someone who was distracted and Dean needed to realize that he needs to concentrate on the job. He had a new lead on his personal hunt and he couldn't risk his son. He couldn't let that bastard get to any of his family anymore.
He looked at his sleeping son for a long time, his heart heavy and took out a note and scribbled something hurried in it before leaving it on the desk next to Dean's bed. He gathered all his belonging and exited the motel room, hitchhiked on a car and drove away.
The sunrays woke Dean up and he grunted as he pulled himself from the bed and to the bathroom.
"G'morning, dad," He called before slamming the door closed. He washed his face and combed his bedhead before looking up and schooling his signature grin.
"Check." He buried any stray thoughts in the back of his head and opened the door. "Dad, the shower is free!"
Silence…
"Dad?" He scanned the room, but there was no sign of the oldest Winchester.
"Did he go to pick up breakfast?" He wondered aloud and inched to the other bed, trying to pinpoint anything that would tell him that his father was absent for the moment, but found nothing.
He panicked and his eyes locked on the desk next to his bed where a big white paper was on it. He blinked in confusion and picked up the paper. Flipping it around, he saw a familiar messy writing in it.
"What the-?" He sat down on the bed and read it.
"That son of a bitch!" He shouted and ripped the paper to shreds and punched the wall. "How dare you?!" He took his duffel and exited the room, intent on chasing his bastard of a dad.
He tried to call John all day or find some trail of him, but to no avail. He finally collapsed by the car, looking to the starry skies, stranded in the middle of nowhere.
He left his car by the road and walked deep into the unmarked road, the open skies above him mocking him of his loneliness.
"YOU BASTARD!" He screamed to the skies and fell on his knees, punching the ground and taking the bowie knife and slashing the lone tree by him. "HOW COULD YOU?! AFTER EVERYTHING I GAVE TO YOU? AFTER EVERYTHING I GAVE UP FOR YOU? WHY, DAD? WHY?" He cried until, finally, his strength left him and he fell back on his knees and elbows and screamed and shouted and wept in agony.
Mom left him… Sam left him… Dad left him… is he really that worthless to stay around for?!
He threw his head back and screamed a long heartbreaking wail, alone in the vast field, alone to hold his pain.
It only took him two hours to calm enough to return to the Impala. He drove for another hour until he reached a motel and crashed on the bed, his eye catching a calendar on the desk. He took it and his breath was caught in his throat; it was the 24th of January.
He dropped the calendar to the floor and curled on the bed, his hoarse throat finding strength to force more sobs out of his bruised chords, his heart shattered in his chest.
He turned 23 alone, with no one by his side.
2006
It was almost three months since Jess' death and Sam wasn't doing much better. He was moodier and bitchier than usual and Dean had no idea how to make his little brother better… well, other than kill the son of the bitch that did this to them.
They just finished the hunt with the reaper, and honestly, Dean was happy to be as far as possible from him, not to mention alive. He shuddered as he remembered; too many close calls happened those past three months.
Sam was currently scanning the pages for any hunt and Dean was lazing on the bed, looking at the ceiling and humming 'back in black'.
"Would you stop that?" Sam grumbled from his place and Dean smirked, knowing that the bitchface was full-on.
"Stop what?" He asked innocently.
"You know what!"
"Stop bitching so much, will ya?"
"So stop being such a jerk!"
"You know you love it, don't deny it!"
"You're unbelievable!" Sam glared at him and stood up. "I'm going to get us lunch."
"Get some pie!" Dean called after his brother.
"When had I forgotten?" The door slammed behind him.
Dean looked at the door, his smile slipping as he took the phone and flipped it open, opening the message from his father; coordinates.
"The only damn contact I have to you, huh?" He grumbled and sat up, glaring at the newspaper and getting up to look at it. A small title attracted his attention.
'A family died in a house fire'
He quickly opened the article, his eyes narrow and suspicious.
'Last night in Kansas city, a house was said to explode from a gas pipe burst. The parents, Joe (23) and Mari (22) and the children, Danny (3) and Sandra (6 months) died from smoke inhalation.'
Dean crumpled the paper in his fists and threw it into the garbage. The memory still hurt him and the similarity of the two cases didn't escape his eye. If his dad hadn't pulled them away the moment the house exploded, they would be just another article like this one that catches a hunter's eye.
He looked at the window, the incident four years ago still echoing in his chest. The feeling of abandonment still flowed in his system, and he was scared of the moment Sam would get up and just leaves because he found a lead and thought that Dean was worthless, that he would just hold him down.
Maybe he should go away before that? Dean shook his head, laughing at the ridiculous thought. He won't be able to leave Sam, his little brother, no matter how much heartache he would suffer from that.
He took out his journal and opened it on the first page. It was a picture of them leaning on the Impala, cheering bottles of beer to the photographer. It was taken by a stranger they bribed after the whole fiasco of the plane ghost. He shuddered as he remembered the plane. He really, really hated those fuckin' planes.
He sighed and went back to bed, placing the journal in his duffel. He felt really lazy today and just wanted to sleep until they found a new hunt.
"I got some food," Sam closed the door with his elbow and faced the motel room only to find his brother sleeping on the bed, buried under the thin scratchy blanket. Sam snorted and placed the bags on the table and settled on the bed, staring at his brother for a few moments before sighing and shaking his brother.
"Dean? Dean… Dean!" He called his brother. When he didn't get any answer, he smirked, "Oh Dean~ I think I would like your precious car pink-ier. What do you think?" He taunted and in a second had found himself restrained by a furious hunter and a wicked blade pressed by his neck. He gulped, well, that wasn't such a good idea.
"If you dare get close to her with a paint brush, I would butcher you and give the FBI your body, understand?"
Sam nodded, and sighed in relief as the knife left his neck and rubbed it, bitchfacing at his brother, who was still groggy.
"Wha' ya want, Sammy?" Dean grunted, dumping the knife in his bag and fell on his bed again.
"I brought some food," Sam rolled his eyes, only his brother would attack someone for threatening his car still half-asleep.
"Pie?"
"Yeah, Dean~" Sam drawled impatiently.
"Oh, you're my savior." Dean dragged himself from the bed and rummaged around the bag and pulled out a white box. He blinked, seeming to not remember that pies were served in white boxes instead of transparent ones.
"What the hell?" He opened it and found himself looking at a whole pie with a frosting saying 'happy birthday, big brother'.
"Sammy?" He looked at his brother, who had suddenly found the door very interesting. "What is going on?"
Sam's head snapped to him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, why did you give me a birthday cake?"
"Dean, it's the 24th of January!" Sam exclaimed, almost in disbelief. "It's your birthday today."
"Ah…"
"Please don't tell me you forgot!" When Dean didn't answer him, Sam buried his face in his palms. "Oh god, you did."
"It's not that important, Sammy. You're overreacting over nothing, your drama queen."
"Overreacting? Overreacting?!"
Dean cleaned his ear, winching at the loud voice of his brother, "What crawled up your ass and died there, Samantha?"
"Dean, it's your birthday…" Sam said softly, defeated. "You should be happy, you should celebrate it."
"Why?" The young man was confused. "It's not like I had anything to celebrate."
"Dean…"
"Can we drop it?"
Sam looked at him for a very long time before he sighed and nodded. "Fine, have it your way. But still, happy birthday, Dean."
Dean smiled at him before digging into the pie. Sam rolled his eye and passed his brother a bottle of bear, who caught it and gulped it down.
"Thank you, Sammy," Dean smiled a real smile this time and Sam couldn't help but smile back before drinking his own bear.
2010
"You're fine, Sammy?"
"I'm never getting sedated ever again."
"You can say that again."
Dean and Sam were sitting by a table, tired and spent after spending the last several days barely sleeping just to get away from the mental hospital and the memories hunting it.
"Are you seriously okay?"
"If I hear that question one more time, I'll kill you."
"Just taking care of my little brother."
"And what about you? You didn't get weird hallucinations you want to talk about?"
… "Screw you."
"Knew it. Now stop asking me or I'll pry that information out of you."
"'twasn't my head. It that faucin' bitch's fault…"
A sigh. "Did Cas call back?"
"No…"
"Dean… it has been more than a week since we heard from him and the last time it was after what happened to… Ellen and Jo."
Crash. "Don't talk about them!"
"Dean, relax! We're in a middle of a diner!"
Footsteps and an annoyed huff. "Is there a problem?"
Clothes being grabbed and clinks of money on the table were heard before shuffling and protesting was being dragged to the door. "We were just leaving, thank you, and sorry."
The diner door closed. "What the hell was that for?"
Key turned and the engine roared to life. "Dean, I know it's hard for you. It's hard for me as well. Hell, I wake up every morning thinking it was all a dream. A very bad one, but only a dream. But you have to move on. We have the apocalypse to think about."
"Shut up, Sam."
An exasperated sigh. "Fine, have it your way." A door slammed and the car shook.
Dean sat on the bed, looking up to the ceiling, his hand trying in vain to grab his absent amulet. Sam has been missing for a whole day after their spat and Dean was wondering if Sam was going to head out alone again or if they would stay together only with the tension hanging between them. A suspicious voice in the back of his head cheered from the thought of being separated from his brother, but he squashed it immediately; he wanted Sammy to be by his side as they stop the apocalypse, he needed to make sure that his brother would survive the fight.
He sighed and turned to his side to meet with a pair of big blue eyes. He let out a (manly) scream and took out his gun, emptying the magazine into the angel. Castiel looked at his ruined shirt and frowned at Dean, "You know bullets won't harm me, Dean."
"What the hell, Cas?!" Dean placed down the gun, chest heaving and his face red. "How many times do I have to tell you to make a fuckin' sound when you pop in next to me?!"
"You told me that twenty three times."
"Jesus…" Dean grumbled and sat up. "What do you want, Cas?"
"I… had been unsuccessful."
"Looking for daddy dearest?" Castiel frowned but nodded.
"My father is very dear to me, but he's the only one who can actually stop this whole mess my brothers made."
"What about us?" Dean's eyebrow went up.
"You'll need a large amount of what you call," Castiel raised his two hands and 'air quoted', "'Good luck'."
"Who taught you sarcasm?"
"You."
"Dang, you don't know how rhetorical questions work, do you?"
"I know what is a rhetorical question is, Dean. You seem to forget that I was there when they invented questions."
"Now I know for sure it was I who corrupted you."
"I'm an angel, I do not get corrupted."
"Shut up. So why did you come?"
"Today is January 24th."
"And why would I want… fuck!" Dean's head fell back onto the pillows. "So what? You want to give a birthday cake? Sing to me 'happy birthday'? Yay~ I'm frickin' 31! I'm so old!"
"You're not old, just older."
"Bite me."
"That would be unpleasant." Dean had to snort at that.
"Dude, you're a pervert."
Castiel seemed so offended, his face actually scrunching to the most expressive face he had ever seen Castiel have. Dean almost choked on his laughter. "What is so funny?"
"You face! I forget that you take everything so seriously like you got a friggin' stick stuck up in your ass! Man, loosen up!"
Castiel sighed annoyingly. "Do you want to get what I brought or not?"
That had shut Dean up.
"Huh?"
Castiel eyed him and brought out of his trench coat a small bag. "It is customary to bring gifts to people on their birthdays."
"Wow, Cas, you really didn't have to…" Dean felt awed by the simple gesture. It has been a while since someone gave a damn about something like his birthday. In every year since that birthday pie his brother gave him it seemed that they had too much on their plates to actually care about something so stupid like birthdays, so it came as surprise to him that an angel of the lord would remember it, and would even go through the trouble of giving him a gift.
"You're gonna give it to me or not?" Dean held out his hand, suddenly anxious. Castiel nodded and handed him the small bag. Dean grabbed it and dug into the bag, his face frowning and he took out an issue of 'Asian busty beauties'. He stared at it, blinked and threw his head back as he released a long laughter.
Castiel seemed thrown back by his reaction and narrowed his eyes. "I saw you read them many times before so I thought you would appreciate one… I take it that it wasn't wise."
"What are you talking about?" Dean calmed down and wiped a tear. "This is the best! Thank you Cas," He smiled widely at the angel. "You're officially my favorite angel."
"Uh… thank you?" Castiel still seemed uneasy, so Dean placed a hand on his shoulder and patted it, "Yeah, the gift is great… perfect. Thank you."
A twitch turned up one of the corners of the angel's mouth. "I'm glad."
2012
Sam was having a hard time not breaking down that day. Amelia asked him numerous times what was wrong and tried to cheer him up by taking him and Riot to a long walk and made him his favorite food.
After four o'clock, when she closed her shop, she had enough.
Sam was surprised when Amelia took his bicep and dragged him to the sofa, throwing him on it, leaving him to sit in shock as she sat opposite him.
"I had enough with your moodiness. You're going to sit here and tell me why my big man is crying today? I know you don't want to tell me about your past, but I can't help you if you don't tell me."
Sam looked at her with big puppy eyes, but she wouldn't relent, not this time. "Sam…"
The weary man realized he lost and his gaze fell to the ground as he took a deep breath.
"I… I told you about me brother, right?" She nodded. "I… I always have a hard time, especially when his memory is triggered by something small or trivial like drinking bear, or seeing pie, or even when I'm passing through some wall with a picture that I know that Dean would comment on it and I'm feeling like I lost him all over again."
"So… it's just one of those days?" Sam shook his head.
"It's his birthday today." He finally forced out and felt Amelia's hand on his shoulder. And suddenly, everything crumbled down and he cried heartbreaking sobs.
"Shh… shh… it's okay, it's okay," She embraced him tight to her chest.
He shook his head. "No, it's not. It's my entire fault, if I had just grabbed him before it happened, he would be thirty-three today. He would have been here and I would have shown you my bigger than life brother and then we would have celebrated his birthday and I wouldn't be alone!"
"You're not alone, Sam…" She sighed sadly and brushed his hair. "It's okay… everything will be just fine…"
2014
Castiel watched his ex-charge sleep and sighed, the stolen grace still not sitting well within him. It felt like he did when he wore Jimmy's vessel for the first time. He didn't like the feeling but was grateful that he wasn't useless anymore and that Dean wouldn't tell him to go away again. He knew it was Gadreel's fault, but it still hurt that his friend told him to go away.
But it wasn't the time to dwell in it, he had a question to ask, so he crouched by the hunter's bed and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. He jumped back when a fist swung at him and the man opened his hazy eyes and cursed in slurs, still hang over yesterday's fiasco. After realizing what he did to Sam, Dean had started drinking profusely once again and ended wasted for the night. Castiel hoped that the question would make him feel better.
"Wh' wan', Cas?" Dean grunted, holding his head and accepting happily the glass of water.
"I have a question…"
"Wha' 's it?"
"Today is your birthday. How do you want to spend it? I learned from being human that people celebrate other people's birthdays other than bringing gifts to each other."
He was met with a blank glare. "What day is it?"
"Friday."
"Date?"
"24th of January, your birthday."
"Son of a bitch."
"Dean…?"
"I don't wan' t' spen' ma fuckin' birthday. After wha' I did t' Sammy I don't even deserve't," Dean ranted, his slurred voice muffled by the pillow. "Kill me please, just end me."
Castiel frowned and stood up, reaching a decision. He reached a hand and grabbed the pillow and yanked it out, making Dean yelp and fall to the ground.
"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouted and glared at the angel. "You tryin' to kill me?"
"Just come." Castiel dragged the hunter to his feet, ignoring the ruffled way the man looked, shoving him by the table. "I'm going to make some breakfast, and then we're going to get some cake and get your head off of Gadreel."
Dean had no choice but sit there while he watched the angel go around the kitchen, taking ingredients and tools. He stared as Castiel started preparing him eggs and bacon along with some salad, which he knew would go down his throat no matter how much protesting there would be.
When the plate was placed before him, Dean looked up to Castiel, who in turn looked down to him with a twist of his mouth that Dean was still unused to see.
"Eat, Dean." Dean glared at him, but took the fork and ate the food wearily.
"It's good," He mumbled and finally smiled for the first time when Castiel perked up and his eyes lit up as he sat down across Dean.
"I'm glad to hear that."
They sat in content silence while Dean nipped on his food, trying to drag the time until they go out. He didn't want to get out of the bunker in fear that Crowley and Gadreel will get out while they're away.
"You don't want to leave them here." Dean winched, was he that obvious?
"I do know you for a while, Dean."
"Stop reading my mind, Cas."
"I was doing no such thing. Now finish eating before I decide to push it down your throat," Castiel replied with another twitch of his mouth.
Dean eyed him, but decided against angering the angel, so he set on finishing the breakfast his friend made for him, feeling a bit warm inside.
"Man, no pie?" Dean whined as the waitress shook her head and smiled politely before going back behind the counter, mumbling about drunken people frequenting the diner. Castiel simply stared at Dean, who was laying his head on his folded arms, obviously still hangover and placed a hand over his head.
"I'm sorry I can't heal you," He finally muttered.
"Don't want to attract d-bags with wings here. 'tis not your fault," Dean grumbled. "Ze-Gadreel did too much damage already. Seriously? Teaming up with Metatron? That's a new low, even for angels."
"You feel betrayed."
"Why? I never trusted the guy from the start. Was only using him and he used me, why betrayed?" Dean defended.
"Because you… thought he would be like me." Dean looked up to him, eyes wide. "I met Muriel and she was a… decent angel. She was nice and although she didn't trust me, she was willing to give me a chance. And I think you had that with Gadreel. You didn't trust him, like at first it was with me, but you wanted him to turn out to be a decent angel with no ulterior motives for once."
"Dude, since when you become Dr. Phil?" Castiel had to smirk at that. Leave it to Dean to try to deflect the blow. Dean scowled at him, but then he looked at his face and blanched.
"What's wrong, Dean?" He did forget to shave today…
"I just remembered… it's 2014."
Castiel waited for Dean to elaborate, but when Dean remained far away, he cupped the hunter's bicep. "What's important about 2014?"
Dean snapped back to reality and buried his face in his arms again. "I can't watch that all over again, please don't make me."
"Watch what, Dean?"
"You human, Sam Lucifer and me the biggest asshole in camp. All of us dying at the end. I betrayed you. I let you go into a trap and I let you die, I couldn't stop my future self. I couldn't stop him from killing me and couldn't kill him. He said we would always end up on this field, him with his fucking white suit and me with my useless colt. Zachariah told me it would happen if I don't say yes to Michael-"
"Dean, it has been years ago. The apocalypse was avoided four years ago." Cas didn't know what to do. What did Zachariah do to Dean that even all those years didn't vanquish the fear? "When did he show you that?"
"When you whisked me away at that last moment. When we had a 'meeting'."
"Oh father…" Castiel remembered that night perfectly, the 'don't change' plea and the warmth he felt of having his friend by him again.
Dean grabbed his head. "What if it will still happen? What if for some fucked-up reason, Lucifer would come back, posses Sam and bring back the fuckin' apocalypse?"
"It won't happen, okay? The cage is tightly sealed and the only way to open it is the horsemen's rings and they're safe as well. Death won't give up his ring for anyone and Sam is better than to let Lucifer take over him again, okay?"
"Okay…" Dean relented and nodded, finally calming down. "Okay… I'm sorry."
"No need to. It's perfectly understandable, especially now that everything had 'gone to the dump' as you say."
"Its 'gone to shit', but oh well," Dean chuckled and they both looked up to see a big plate with a cake on it being placed on the table. Castiel and Dean looked at each other and laughed as they spotted a candle lit up on the cake with a frosting 'happy birthday'.
"I feel like a kid," Dean joked as he contemplated the candle. "Well… what should I wish?" He rolled his eyes and blew the candle. Castiel didn't know what to do, so he clapped and Dean bowed his head in mock-politeness.
"What did you wish for?" Castiel asked in genuine fascination.
"A secret." Dean flushed in embarrassment; that was so girly.
Fortunately, Castiel only nodded and took a piece from the cake and nipped on it. His face lit up and he smiled. "This is really good."
"Let me try it." Dean took a forkful of the cake and ate it. He took out the fork and looked at it in awe. "You're right, it is good."
"Happy birthday, Dean." Castiel took the candle out and lit it up again and handed it to Dean.
Dean smiled and blew the candle again and took it in his hand. "Thank you, Cas."
"can you see~ the love~ tonight?" totally my thoughts as i wrote the dean and cas' scenes
what do you think? please review?
i really don't want to have to feel bad for crushing my deannie's heart so many times. i feel bad already that for some sick reason, i like seeing him getting hurt and all poor little dean and all... especially when cas is there to soothe his pain... okay i totally need to stop right now before i would have to kill myself and i hope no wants that... right? no wants to see me dead? right? RIGHT?
... okay, i'm shutting up now.
bye \(^O^)/