For one of the most amazing friends in the world, who shared her pie with me on her birthday!

Happy birthday, You Awesome Person, you!

Six year old Sammy slowly woke up, the constant rocking of the car almost enough to lull him back to sleep, but then he remembered. A huge smile split across his face, and he sat up straight in the back seat, glancing between his brother and father, unsure of who to talk to first.

Sure, Dean was asleep, but Dad was driving, and Sammy didn't know how to choose, but he had to do something or else he was going to burst!

"Dad!" he called out excitedly.

John Winchester cursed and slammed on the brakes. "Damn it, Sammy! I'm driving! Give me a heart attack why don't you?" he asked gruffly.

"But Dad," Sammy whined, "we have to do something before Dean wakes up!"

John sighed heavily. "What is so important, Sammy? And if I do it, will you go back to sleep? It's only five o'clock, for god's sake!"

Sammy really did hear all of the complaining, but his little brain only processed the part where John was willing to listen. "Okay! Awesome! Listen, Daddy," he started.

"Samuel!" John interrupted.

The six year old hung his head and continued in a more subdued tone. "Dad," he corrected himself. He had to be man, he reminded himself, and men don't say "daddy" anymore. "Can we stop and get some birthday cake, please? And maybe even some soda or lemonade?"

John Winchester froze. This was what his youngest son had woken up early, scared him out of his mind, and begged him for? Sweets? Sugar? He took a deep breath and pulled the car off the road.

Sammy's face lit up as he realized his dad had actually heard him, but as he pulled himself up to look out the window, he realized they were in the middle of nowhere. Dread began to settle in the pit of his stomach as he remembered John Winchester's favorite conversation: "I have an important job to do, boys, and I don't need either of you to ever interrupt me, do you understand? You can do whatever you want to in the back seat, but don't distract me unless it's important."

He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. "I'm sorry, Daddy- Dad! Dad! I'm sorry, Dad!" He was trying, he really was, but then he said the wrong thing, and now he was crying, and he was never going to be a little soldier!

"Dean!" John barked, snapping Dean out of whatever dream he was having. Sammy's face crumpled even more. Dean wasn't supposed to wake up yet! It wasn't ready!

"Why'd we stop, Dad?" Dean asked. He never forgot and said the wrong word. He was a good soldier. "Sammy?" his voice immediately dropped from confusion to concern. "What's the matter, kiddo?"

But Sammy couldn't bring himself to tell him. After all, Dean did everything right. If he knew how bad Sammy was, maybe he wouldn't want to sit in the back seat anymore. Just the thought of being all alone in the back seat for days made Sammy cry harder, and Dean only got more worried.

Meanwhile, John was starting to get angry. "Dammit, Sammy! I didn't wake him up to waste more time! Tell him what you did, and we can get back on the road. He'll explain why you're wrong. I don't have time for this!"

Sammy hung his head and managed to stop bawling quite as hard, mostly because of his brother's reassuring hand on his back. He shrugged his shoulders. "I-" but he couldn't tell him everything. It would ruin it all, and he couldn't take that, so he settled for, "I'm sorry, Dean. It won't happen again. I'm sorry you had to wake up."

Dean was confused. "But what did you do, Sammy?" he asked, leaning closer to his baby brother.

Sammy thought for a minute. How would a man answer this? How would Dad? Oh, that one was easy! "I fucked up," he shrugged. There, now he sounded like a man!

Dean and John both jumped back in shock and stared at the innocent first grader. "Sammy?" John asked after a moment. Then he shook his head. "Damn kid," he muttered, turning the key in the ignition and easing back onto the road.

"You're going to be staying with Bobby for a day or two," he announced just as the two boys in the back were nodding off again.

"Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked, almost offended. "But, I can take care of Sammy just fine, can't I?"

John sighed. "I know you can, Dean. I need you to prove that to Bobby so he'll get off my ass, okay?" They shared a grin, and Sammy snuggled deeper into his brother's jacket, wondering if one day he'd be big enough to know what was so funny.

The next thing he heard was John telling Uncle Bobby, "You shouldn't have to do much. Dean's a good little soldier. He takes care of his brother better than anyone else ever could." It sounded louder than usual, and Sammy couldn't figure out why until he was laid down on a sofa.

John glanced down at him at groaned. "Dammit, Sammy, why didn't you tell me you were awake before I carried you all this way?" he asked in consternation.

There had been times when Sammy had been unsure as to whether his first name was "Dammit" or "Samuel" because of how often his father used this phrase.

He shrugged now. "I guess I'm just a handful," he said wisely, although the effect was ruined by the massive yawn that tailed onto the end of the phrase.

John shook his head as Bobby cracked up. "That you are, son." He straightened and looked beside the sofa. "Dean?" The ten year old snapped to attention like always. "Don't let anything happen to your brother, you hear me?" Dean nodded firmly, and John took a minute to thank Bobby again before taking off.

Bobby sighed. "Well, boys, it's still early. Why don't you get some sleep, huh?" he suggested. "I'll go make some breakfast, and I'll wake you when it's ready."

Both boys agreed, and Dean climbed onto the sofa next to Sammy, falling asleep instantly.

Sammy desperately wanted to fall asleep, but he realized that this was the best chance he could possibly get, so he dragged himself off the sofa without disturbing his brother and padded into the kitchen.

"Uncle Bobby?" he asked in a whisper.

The older man spun around. "Dammit, Sammy!" he muttered. "About gave me a heart attack, you idjit!"

Sammy shrugged. "I guess I do that," he remarked casually. "Do you have any," he almost asked for cake, but then he remembered how his dad had reacted. Maybe Uncle Bobby would react the same way. What was something Dean might like that was kind of like cake but wouldn't make Uncle Bobby mad? His tiny brain was whirring as fast as it could go.

"Do I have any what?" Bobby asked, trying to be patient with the little tyke.

"Pie?" Sammy decided, wincing slightly as he thought of all the negative ways Uncle Bobby could react.

Bobby looked at him curiously. "You came all the way over here when you're dead tired just to ask me for pie?" he asked.

"Never mind," Sammy muttered, feeling his lower lip start to tremble. He just wanted to do this one thing for Dean, but everything was going wrong!

"Hey!" Bobby leaned down and picked up the obviously upset child. "What do you need pie for, son?"

Sammy shrugged. He didn't want to ruin the surprise for Dean.

"Whisper it in my ear?" Bobby suggested. As he listened, he grew more and more shocked. "And then he left you here?" he asked when Sammy was done.

Sammy nodded.

"And it's today? You're sure now," Bobby pushed.

Sammy nodded again, this time more enthusiastically.

"Well why didn't you say so, ya little idjit! Of course I can make a pie! Now you go get some sleep!"

Sammy hesitated.

"What is it, son?" Bobby asked at last.

"Uncle Bobby?"

"Dammit, child, I already answered that! Cut to the point!"

"Can I help you?" the six year old asked in a subdued, eager tone.

The gruff man grunted and nodded. "I guess so, since you won't get any more sleep anyway."

So what if breakfast was an hour late? It was a special day, and Dean apparently needed all the sleep he could get. Sammy was ecstatic, and Bobby was working himself up into a rage at "John Winchester, you forgetful moron, you heartless bastard" by the time it was all ready.

Dean woke up slowly for a change, instead of snapping at the sound of his name being called. There were all sorts of good smells, and it sounded like Sammy was laughing at something. Sammy? Where was Sammy? Why wasn't he on the sofa?

Instantly alert, Dean jumped up and ran into the kitchen only to find his brother, perfectly fine, drawing something on a piece of paper.

"Mornin' kiddo," he grinned, ruffling his brother's hair just to annoy him.

"Dean!" Sammy squealed, throwing his arms around him.

Dean chuckled. "Alright, alright, little brother. What's got you all excited?"

Sammy was practically jumping up and down as he shoved the piece of paper at Dean.

It was a rough drawing of a car with three people in it. All of them were smiling, and it looked like the driver and the littlest one were singing.

Dean, of course, immediately understood who the people were, but he did have a question. "I love it, Sammy! But why aren't I singing?" he asked. Sammy grinned and turned the paper over.

"Uncle Bobby helped me make the letters!" he explained enthusiastically. "Is it good, Dean? Do you like it?" he asked, immediately worried when Dean hadn't responded yet.

"I love it, kiddo!" he answered, blinking back the tears that had surprised him at the sight of the rudely scrawled, "Hapy Birtday, DEANN!"

"Thank you, Sammy!" he hugged his little brother tightly. "And thank you too, Bobby," he added, over Sammy's head.

"You're welcome, son," Bobby answered. Sammy was too busy giggling to make words at the moment. "Now how about some pie?"

"Oh, man! A card and pie? This is the best birthday ever!" Dean exclaimed. Sammy grinned again.

"I helped make the pie, Dean!" he volunteered before his face fell marginally. "It isn't birthday cake, I know. Is that okay?" he asked.

In that split second, Dean made a decision that, years later, would get his brother killed and his angel kicked out of a Gas 'n Sip, but right now it was worth it.

"I love pie, Sammy! It's so much better than cake!"

Sammy resumed his giggling. Dean got a birthday after all! He couldn't be happier!

John got back from his hunt late the next night, and he found his kids snuggled together on the couch. "I'm assuming they weren't any trouble," he asked Bobby.

Bobby shook his head. "There's just one thing," he mentioned.

"What?" John asked, instantly on the alert.

"You said Dean takes care of Sammy better than anyone else; well, Sammy takes care of Dean better than anyone else too," he explained, hoping to fix what was so obviously broken between the oldest and youngest Winchester before it tore their family apart.

John looked interested. "Maybe that will actually convince him to learn to protect himself, then," he wondered out loud.

Bobby sighed. There was no changing John Winchester's mind. He waited until both boys were awake and yawning on their way out the door to speak again.

"If any of you ever need anything, you know where to find me," he reminded them.

"Hey, Uncle Bobby," Dean asked sleepily, poking Sammy, "what if we need pie? Can we come then too?"

Both boys giggled sleepily, leaving John to wonder what on earth had happened to his little soldiers.

Bobby winked surreptitiously at them. "Especially if you need pie," he said, closing the door.

"Love me some pie," Dean yelled out into the empty night before he let Sammy beat him to the car.

After all, what are brothers for?

Just a fluffy one-shot as a birthday present! I hope you enjoyed it! Leave a comment for me and tell me if you did!

-Hugs and Chocolate!

Hailee