I would like to thank Aldasiel for the technical aspects of this fic and being the main inspiration to write this. He's been patient with all the midnight questions and generally the impetus to write this. Thank you to my betas: to MaggieMaybe160 for taking on the entire headache of tenses this fic was, to fangirlingtodeath513 and to ltleflrt for the Dean Voice, the Americanisms and additional grammar input , and just the entire Discord for moments that go: what would Dean remember about his mom? what would Dean teach a young kid about cars? what type of stereo does Cas' truck have?

I would also like to give a special shout out to foxymoley for introducing me to discord in the first place.

Any remaining mistakes are my own.

You are all my reasons.

"Making a tape is like writing a letter – there's a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again. A good compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do."
Rob Gordon
High Fidelity

BOISE, IDAHO 1985

The first time Dean remembers making a mixtape, he was seven and he just got back from school. He'd been worried the entire day because Sammy had a fever and Dad told Dean that he should still go to school.

He'd skipped the last class by slipping out through a high window in the bathroom and then going under one of the chain-link fences he'd noticed was loose when Dad'd enrolled him. He found Dad sitting on one of the motel's double beds, cradling Sammy's head on his lap. He was holding something clasped loosely between his palms, his head bowed. There was an old shoebox at his feet with a row of neatly labeled tapes: his dad's prized possessions. He'd been told repeatedly that the cassettes were not toys, but handed a pistol in the next breath for target practice.

Dad noticed Dean standing unsurely by the doorway, his eyes narrowing at the boy then looking at the time. Dean looked at his dad sheepishly, realizing that he'd planned the entire break-out-of-school poorly and that dad would've known. He rushed to sit beside his dad, but Dad's hand clamped tightly on his shoulder before Dean could make any sudden movements, once he was close enough. With a significant glance towards Sammy, his dad released Dean and put down the cassette with the rest of the tapes in the box.

In the background, the sound of a tambourine and an acoustic guitar broke out, shifting from a soft sad piano melody into something more upbeat na, na, na, na, na, na. Dad reached carefully across to the radio that was beside the shoebox, switching from cassette to FM radio, the strain of That's What Friends Are For filtering through before Dad grimaces and turns the radio off entirely.

Uncomfortable with the abrupt silence, Dean fidgeted, but felt the heavy weight of his dad's eyes on him, waiting for an explanation. Dean settled with: "I remember that song, sir."

Dad shook his head slowly, acknowledging the evasion for what it was. "I should think so. It's been playing on the radio whenever we go to a store or someone messes with the Impala's radio."

Dean frowned, shaking his head, his hand slowly carding through Sam's hair. "No, I meant… na, na, na, na, na, na," Dean imitated and half hummed through the remembered melody. It felt familiar somehow, like an old friend.

His dad was silent for so long that Dean thought that the conversation was over, but when he looked at his dad, he was blinking rapidly, his eyes red and a pained expression on his face. "Your mother sang that instead of a lullaby to you and Sam because—" Dad's voice broke before he cleared his throat and continued, "—it was her favorite Beatles song."

Amazed, Dean hoarded this information along with everything else he remembered: she believed in angels, she loved pie, and she smelled likes the roses from their neighbor's garden. Dean remembered this because dad would bring home a rose for mom when he was away for a long time, and though she would complain about the expense, she always lit up like the fourth of July when he presented it with flourish. Dean leaned on his dad's arm, and he felt his dad stiffen at the contact, even as his John allowed it.

"What are you doing, Dean?" his dad whispered, still careful with Sammy.

"I'm helping you cry, Dad," Dean whispered back.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Dad before he gently settled Sam back onto the bed. Dad leaned over Dean, a hand on the boy's shoulder, the grip firm but not painful. Dean waited expectantly for what his dad would say, but no words came to fill the silence. There was strain in his dad's eyes and hints of tiredness. It was not easy learning to be a hunter and taking care of two boys. His dad had explained this all to Dean some time ago.

There was a loud bang from one of the other motel room doors, making Dad look at the windows sharply. Sammy shifted positions, but he didn't stir. Moment broken, Dad collected the shoebox along with the radio and set them on the cramped table. He exchanged the tape for another one, which Dean saw was a Beatles album. Dad then checked the leaf that came with the cassette before flipping the cassette to the other side and rewinding the tape. Once satisfied, he took another tape, and using a pencil, he wound it a little before setting it on the other deck.

"This circle is the record button, son, so you press it together with the play button so that you can make a copy of the song playing on the other tape to this one." Dad pressed the play button on the left with white noise from the beginning of the cassette playing.

Dutifully, Dean pressed both buttons, the click sounding loudly in the room before Hey Jude began to play. Once the song had ended, Dad stopped the recording and ejected both tapes before he handed his son the recording. "If you find songs that you like, we can add it at the end so you have your own special track."

Dad also told Dean the story of how he and his mother met, at the same time giving Dean his first Led Zeppelin tape for his birthday. Dean remembers that year, because that was also the year that Dean became proficient with the gun, and the year his dad started to give Dean more and more responsibility with raising Sam. By the end of the next year, Dad learned he could leave Dean in charge of his younger brother for short periods of time during evening hunts. He didn't leave them for more than a day, and never during school days.

That ended three years later, when his dad left them with Bobby while he knew he would be gone for longer. The hunt and Mary's killer proved to be a stronger siren song than parenthood and his boys. That same year while waiting for John on a long hunt, Dean completed his mixtape: Dean's Amazing Tracks. It was filled with abrupt stops, loud clicks from when he was turning on the record, and the last song was truncated because he hadn't quite realized that he should have planned for the length of time before recording. But it was his, and he played it with a second-hand Walkman when he went to school.

oOo

SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA 1992

The first time Dean created a mixtape for someone else, he was thirteen. It was because Christmas was coming up, and he didn't have money to give anyone gifts. He made three tapes out of old cassettes that no one played. He would create more mixtapes as the years went by, and these first three were lost (mostly through frequent moves and explosions) but his recipients remembered, and that was all that mattered.

He made time for it after school between cooking for Sam and waiting for Dad to come home from the hunt. He recorded John's songs easy, because he knew his dad's taste in music, like his taste in breakfast food and hunting gear. Once he finished that, Bobby's was just as easy. Bobby's taste in music was sort of dad-adjacent so it was a mix of Creedence Clearwater Revival, Johnny Cash and Lynyrd Skynyrd with just a dash of Tori Amos, to add flavor.

Now during Sam's tape, he wavered. While Dean prefered classic rock, Sammy hadn't shown a preference one way or another yet. So Sam's tape was a mix of eclectic songs that Dean sometimes wrinkled his nose at but hey, Sammy might be a Gin Blossoms or a Green Jelly guy, there was no accounting for taste.

Some of the original songs from the old tapes bled through, but for the most part, it was pretty decent work. Dean had already learned how to space the songs and gotten a general feel for the transitions and the cohesiveness or the lack of it... for the most part. He was proud of the work and wrapped it up in old newspaper.

When Christmas break finally came around, Dad drove them toward Sioux Falls because it was close by and there was a terrible hunt that he'd heard about in Rochester and Bobby's was on the way.

Dean tucked the cassette in his dad's shoebox before his dad drove off. Bobby had a disgruntled look of half an argument when his eyes settled on the Winchesters, before the tightness evened out into the gruff sour look that they often associated with him.

Bobby sighed before inclining his head towards the stairs. "You know the drill boys. Go on. Your dad said he'll try to be back before supper tomorrow."

Sam dragged his feet across the rickety boards, being a little bit petulant about the entire move, but Dean helped him to get settled. Tomorrow was Christmas morning, but Sammy wasn't used to celebrating the season and Dean himself barely remembered Christmas cookies and baked apple pies.

Once they got to the spare bedroom, Sam heaved himself heavily across the single bed and pouted. "Your face is gonna get stuck that way, Sammy," Dean teased, pulling out fresh clothes for Sam to change into before bed.

"Amy from my class said that she asked her dad for a pony this year," Sam stated randomly, flopping onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. It was the first time Dean'd heard of an Amy. Sam was usually talkative about school; he didn't make lots of friends, the nature of kids who moved a lot, but he did share most of his days with Dean. So, Dean figured, this little tidbit was more about the request than the person.

He shifted Sam to make room for himself on the bed, sitting on the edge. "You know Dad does this to save all the other kids so they have homes to return to, and get to ask for ponies for Christmas."

Sam folded his arms across his chest and pouted even harder. "He could have stayed for Christmas morning and then left."

"You know we aren't big on holidays, Sam," Dean tried to reason, putting a hand on Sam's arm. He was the older brother, he was supposed to make peace. And there were plenty of families that didn't celebrate Christmas or birthdays, Dean told himself. Sam didn't complain much, but he was around children his age and picked up fast. Dean had actually been steeling himself for the moment to come sooner rather than later.

It was important that Sam felt loved, more than anything, so Dean picked up his bag, rummaging around for a second before tapping Sam's shoulder with the mixtape wrapped in newspaper.

Sam's eyes widened before tearing the paper away. "Did you make this for me?"

Dean grins. "Is there any other Sammy in the room?"

Sam flipped the tape over and checked the label that'd been plastered on over the old one: Sammy's Music Mix. "Do you think Dad will let me play it in the car?"

Dean scrunched his face. Not with the type of songs that were on there. "Weeeell, you could borrow my Walkman sometimes."

Sammy giggled and then frowned when he looks at the time. "But it's just Christmas eve, I should have opened it Christmas morning!" Apparently Sam was the type of kid who hoarded presents and waited for Christmas morning before opening. Good to know.

"It's our special tradition then, Christmas eve." Sam smiled before he got ready to bed.

The next day, Dean presented his tape to Bobby and received an awkward hug for it. Dad never made it for Christmas. He was held up by a Chupacabra three states over, but he did call in to say that he enjoyed the gift.

oOo

HURLEYVILLE, NEW YORK 1995

The next time he made a mixtape for someone else, it was in Sonny's Home for Boys, and he wanted to give it to Robin after the school dance. Their tastes in music were vastly different; she liked acoustic guitars that you could sing with and he wanted to be a rock star. He took the time to listen to songs that would work beautifully in acoustic before plotting out his tape. By that time, Dean had learned that he should plan the songs so that the timing was just right, so he had a pen and paper with a watch timing songs, deciding between a 60-minute or a 90-minute blank tape.

Once he'd decided on the target length and had a list of songs, it was time to record. He didn't have a double deck cassette in Sonny's and didn't have tapes for her songs anyway, so he waited for the DJ to play the songs on the radio. He brought a boombox every time he wasn't with Robin. He brought it out during chores, sat beside it while he worked on homework and played it before bed. The only time it wasn't allowed was during dinner, when Sonny told the boys to socialize with each other.

He painstakingly waited for each song to play on the radio, pressing record when the DJ finally deigned to play the song next on his list, sometimes cursing heatedly when the DJ talked through the ending of the particular piece necessitating another wait.

The entirety of side one was mostly Dean's life reflected before he'd been sent to Sonny's and therefore, before he'd met Robin. He started out with Tears in Heaven because it was how he felt when he first came into the place: that he didn't belong there. He placed Everybody Hurts in between because he kinda felt that anxious and awake at night just thinking about what was happening. That song kinda made him feel raw, it was a song that reached out to teens who felt hopeless and it made him think about what could have happened if Sonny hadn't taken him in. He put in Creep before he could change his mind about it.

Side two was more positive, with songs like Wonderwall, which was about being saved. It has such nice easy chords but with difficult strumming, so Dean tried to play it a couple of times when he had Robin's guitar. He finished side two with the newly released You Were Meant for Me, which was upbeat and positive and just perfect for Robin to sing… even if it was kinda presumptuous and cheesy. He placed the entire thing in his pocket before he fixed his tie to go out for the dance.

He never did get to give the tape to Robin before his dad took him away for the job.

oOo

INTERSTATE - 80 1996

Just like his dad, he kept his tapes in a shoebox, labeled with a black sharpie. He used it when his dad let him pick a tape for their drives, or between classes when he had time. He smiled proudly at himself when his dad ordered, "turn up the volume, son," when one of his mixtapes was playing. When the tape ended, Dad smiled and nodded. "Go ahead and choose another one."

Dean beamed all the way to their next motel, while Sam was playing with his airplane in the backseat. Sometimes his dad would listen to his recording and give him advice on how to improve. "The first rule of mixtapes, son, is never add anything from the top 10 hits," John proclaimed.

Dean listened to those pearls of wisdom and included them with the essentials: take care of Sammy, and always bring salt. "You want it to be special, you don't want something that you could just tune in any time on the radio to listen to."

Years passed and Dean still made mixtapes, but none to give out. He'd been in and out of school, so he didn't have anyone to make them for, let alone the time to do it. Especially since Dad had started to bring him out to do more hunting.

When his dad died, he thought he wouldn't be able to record mixtapes anymore. After hunting, the shared love of music and the Impala were his father's gifts to him. And though his love for the Impala was fierce and undying, creating mixes were about baring a piece of your soul, and he thought he'd lost the ability to create or to find the joy in it.

A/N:

Two more chapters to go. Thanks for reading! c&c welcome.

I've been having John Winchester feels lately and I have mostly been in the, John Winchester is a shitty father, but he really loves his boys camp. Or maybe it's because I also have a tough love for a dad, really military like and iron fist which is how he, in turn, was brought up. So though I don't condone the way John brought up his kids, I understand it. I hope we get a glimpse in the 300th episode and closure.