Dean wasn't paying very much attention to his teacher. Instead, he was listening with one ear while carving symbols into his desk with the sharp edges surrounding his pencil eraser. He wasn't sure what the circle and star meant, but when Dean saw them in John's journal, he had said they were for protection. Dean doubted he would need to worry about werewolves or ghosts while he was in Ms. Stevens' class, but it couldn't hurt to be careful. You know, just in case.

He had been in and out of enough schools to know what Ms. Stevens meant when she said that they were going to be starting a class project today, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

"We will be decorating our flower pots today and tomorrow after they have dried we will be planting a flower in them to give to your mothers for Mother's Day. How does that sound, class?"

The sound of the classroom grew steadily louder as a burst of excited chatter rose up from the fourth graders.

He would just sit here quietly and hope that teacher didn't notice that he wasn't decorating a flower pot. It would be a waste of time, when he didn't dare bring home a reminder of Mary to John. He always got very quiet and a little scary after anyone asked after Sam and Dean's mother.

"Dean?"

Dean slid over a piece of construction paper to cover the carving he had been working on earlier and looked up to see his teacher frowning at him.

"Don't you want to make a flower pot, Dean?" Ms. Stevens asked, bending down to Dean's eye level.

"No, thank you ma'am." Dean shook his head, running his hands across his desk and avoiding his teacher's eye.

"Don't you have anyone you would like to give a flower pot to? I'm sure you could make a beautiful one, if you wanted."

Dean squirmed around in his seat. "Well, see, I don't have a mom to make a flower pot for."

"Oh, sweetie, that's okay," Ms. Stevens grabbed onto Dean's hand that was resting on the desk in between them. "You know, sometimes Mother's Day isn't about who had you as a baby. Sometimes they are about a grandma or aunt or just someone that helps you do your homework or makes dinner with you. Some people have two dads or two moms or just a grandmother or an uncle that takes care of them and Mother's Day gifts are just about saying thank you to them."

"I don't know, ma'am." Dean said, gazing over to her suspiciously.

No one had ever explained Mother's Day like that to Dean before. After all, everyone knew that Mother's Day was for Moms, but Dean was starting to see that his teacher had a point. A girl named Janice in his last school had two moms, maybe she gave one of them a gift on Father's Day? Or maybe a Grandpa?

"Do you have someone, maybe they aren't a Mom or Dad, but someone that spends time with you that you love? Maybe they would like a gift to thank them?"

Well, yeah, Dean guessed he did have someone like that.

Bobby had been the one who taught Dean and his little brother how to throw a baseball last summer and always made sure that he had pie when Dean and Sam came over to stay with him. Staying at Bobby's was Dean's favorite, him and Sammy didn't have to sit and watch T.V in some hotel room while they waited for their dad to get home, and sometimes Bobby even let Dean help him work on cars in his scrap yard. Bobby might not be the mom that Dean remembered and missed everyday, but Dean thought that he was the next best thing.

Maybe Dean should have been giving Bobby gifts this whole time? Bobby didn't have any kids of his own, after all, and if anyone deserved presents it was him. Dean hoped Bobby hadn't been sad when he didn't get any gifts last year, but he would make sure that Bobby always got gifts on Mother's Day from now on.

Later that day, after the bell had rung, Dean waited outside his little brother's first grade classroom.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, running toward his brother, backpack swinging behind him. "Today, in class we painted picture frames, and Lionel got glitter everywhere and Mr. Fisher, he said that our class never gets to use the glitter ever again because it was all over Mr. Fisher's head."

Dean rubbed a hand through Sam's hair, making it splay out in all directions. "That's cool, kiddo. Do you know why you made picture frames?"

Sam looked down at his shoes. "Yeah, Mother's Day, but I asked about that and Mr. Fisher said that I could keep mine if I didn't have someone to give it to."

"Heya Sammy," Dean touched his brother's shoulder, "Don't worry about it. I think we should give our presents to Bobby. I made a flower pot today and I put a red truck on it, just like the one out in front of Bobby's. Bobby helps us lots and I'm sure he would like presents."

"Do you think he would like my picture frame?" Sam asked, looking up at his big brother.

"Yeah, we can even put the picture in it of us playing baseball I bet," Dean took Sam's hand and crossed the street, taking the now familiar route back to The Hummingbird Inn, the latest in a long line of motels that the boys had come to call home.

Dean and Sam sat at the small side table that was in front of their motel room window. "Dad?" Dean said, around a mouth full of macaroni and cheese, "Ya think me and Sammy can go to Bobby's this weekend?"

"What do you kids want to go see that old man for? I'm sure Bobby's got better things to do than be doing your job for you, Dean." John said from where he laid on one of the rooms two double beds. He tossed the remote down and moved to the mini-fridge, extracting a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

"I can still watch Sammy at Bobby's, sir. Bobby said that the next time we came he was gonna make us dig up all the worms for fishin'." Bobby had also said that he would take Sam and Dean on an all day fishing trip, but Dean knew that he shouldn't make Bobby's sound like too much fun. Digging up worms sounded like what John called "busy work" that would keep the boys out of trouble and John would like Sam and Dean doing busy work.

"I'll call the old man tonight and we'll see what he says but if he says no that's the end of that. I don't want to hear any whining from you kids, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," Dean said, trying for as plainly as he could, but finding it impossible not to smile when Sam was practically vibrating in the chair across from him.

Three days later, John was drivig away from Singer Salvage in an empty Impala. Armed with only their wits and their Batman backpacks, Sam and Dean crashed through the door to Bobby's.

"Bobbbbbbyyyyyyyy!" Sam yelled, running through the front door after being sure that he was out of sight from John's rearview mirror, only to find himself crashing face first into the man himself.

"Calm down there, kid," Bobby threw his hands up in the air. "Last thing I need is your old man takin' me to task if one of you idjits end up in the E.R."

"Sorry, Uncle Bobby," Sam said shyly.

"No use crying over spilt milk, kid. What's got you so excited, anyways?" Bobby said, moving into the living room with Sam trailing after him.

"We brought you presents Uncle Bobby," Sam's eyes sparked as he reached into his backpack, pulling out a gift that was messily wrapped in newspaper.

"DEAN, WHERE ARE YOU?" Sam yelled. "COME ON, DEAN. WE GOTTA GIVE BOBBY HIS STUFF!"

Dean peeked around the corner into the living room. "Alright, alright, Sammy. Go ahead, you go first." Dean slowly walked over and sat next to his brother on the sofa.

"Here! This is from me." Sam said, now thrusting the newspaper clad gift at Bobby.

Bobby made a show of unwrapping his gift, revealing a picture of the two small boys and Bobby in a somewhat sloppily painted picture frame.

"Do ya like it, Bobby?" Sam was looking at Bobby thoughtfully, as if he was judging the truthfulness of his reaction.

"Ya, kid it's great. S' a good picture I reckon." Bobby said smiling.

Sam beamed back at him. "Dean, your turn!"

Dean was reaching carefully into his backpack. He had a hard time keeping his backpack upright for the entire car ride but he had managed not to break the delicate flower.

"Um… see Bobby, I don't know if you're gonna like it." Dean looked down into his backpack dubiously.

"Hey, ain't none of that, I'm sure whatever it is, I'll like it just fine. Now, give me my present, kid," Bobby held a hand out.

Dean pulled a decorated paper bag that had been stapled shut to the man. "Okay, but you have to be careful. Open it from the top."

Bobby pulled the paper bag from where it was stapled together and reached his hand in to pull out the tiny pot.

Dean was watching Bobby and blushing furiously.

"Um, I know that flowers aren't normally for boys, but I painted the pot and look I put your truck on it, see?" Dean pointed.

"I think it's a mighty fine truck, and nothing to be embarrassed at all about, Dean." Dean looked proud from Bobby's praise. "I like the gifts boys, but do you one of you wanna explain why I'm getting so many when it's not even my birthday?

"S' Bobby Day," Sam piped up from where he sat, happy as can be on the sofa.

"It's what now?" Bobby asked.

"See, um. Ms. Stevens had us make flower pots for Mother's Day, see?" Dean took over for his brother, "And I didn't wanna make one, because I didn't have anyone to give my flower pot to, but then she said that sometimes other family can get gifts on Mother's Day, and I thought that sounded a little fishy... But I don't know why she would lie about it? Then I thought about it a bit and how you deserve some gifts cuz' your always doing cool stuff with me and Sammy, way more stuff than Dad does, ya know? I think you probably make better food than most of the other kids' moms anyways," Dean shuffled his feet across the carpet, running out of breath as his little lungs heaved to keep up with him. "So me and Sammy decided that we should have Bobby Day instead of Mother's Day since we don't have a mom and Bobby Day is better, anyways." Dean finished. "Um, if that's okay with you, I mean."

Bobby stared at the two boys sitting across from him, opening and shutting his mouth a few times searching for words.

He cleared his throat loudly in the quiet room, "Well, see here, I've always wanted to have a day named after me. Tell ya, what? How about we put these fine crafted presents up on the shelf and we can make some sandwiches to take fishing with us, huh?"

"Yes! Fishing!" Sam yelled. "Can I dig up the worms?"

Bobby laughed. "I dare say, you can dig worms to your heart's content. What do you say? Let's make us some sandwiches, boys?" Sam and Dean nodded and followed behind Bobby.

It was going to be a good day, today.

15 years later

The screen door slammed shut as the gruff, flannel-clad man stepped onto the porch.

"What the hell are ya idgits doin' here? Ya'll didn't say you was comin' boys!"

Sam's long legs climbed out of the passenger seat of the Impala, holding on to two grocery bags with his laptop slung across his shoulders.

"Quit your complaining Bobby, we brought you stuff to make burgers," Dean said, walking around the car and grabbing one of the grocery bags from Sam's hand.

"Yeah, Bobby, you know we would never forget you today of all days," Sam smiled coyly, patting the man on the back and moving past him into the house.

"What? What kinda game are you kids playing at now?" Bobby asked, but Dean just shoved something into his chest and rolled his eyes, following his brother into the kitchen.

"Bobby" the yellow envelope said in a spidery script.

Bobby stared at the envelope for a minute, before opening it to find a card inside. The outside of the card was hideous, to put it mildly, pink and adorned with twelve different kinds of flowers. Opening it, he read:

Happy Mothers Bobby Day,

from the kids you chose.

We would choose you back, every time.

Sam & Dean

Bobby cleared his throat and closed the card, sitting it on the kitchen table.

"You idgits turned out alright, I guess." he shrugged, seeming suspiciously misty eyed as he looked away from the two men that were leaning against the kitchen counter, staring at him expectantly.

They smiled.

"High praise, Bobby. We'll take it." Dean said. "Now, do you have a clean spatula anywhere in this place?"