A/N: Inspired in part by Morganeth Taren'drel's 'First Time' series. Credit where credit's due. Title and forthcoming chapter titles from, like, the best author eva! Virtual pie (pick a flavor) for the first person to figure it out. Kinda obvious if anyone was ever a child. The idea is one chapter for ever year out boys have been alive and kicking. And sadly the Winchesters and their car are forever Kripke's.


When Dean Winchester was not even one year old his Mom and Dad celebrated five years of marriage.

Such a special anniversary usually meant an expensive, intimate night out followed by something clichéd like a walk along the boardwalk. Yet not on this night. Usually Dean wasn't the easiest baby to deal with. He decided he was hungry at the most frustrating hours of the night, leaving his Mom exhausted and then of course, what went in one end also had to come out the other and Dean's Dad was amazed at the amount of unmentionable liquids that could explode out of the little baby boy at any given moment. With such a little tyke it is quite understandable that his parents completely forgot about their anniversary.

It was ten o'clock at night and all three Winchesters were sprawled across the sofa. Surprisingly it had only taken five minutes for little Dean to drop off, tucked away in his Mother's arms who, in turn, was tucked in her husband's. The house was silent save for a slight hum coming from the TV which was playing a B-grade horror muted low in the background.

John and Mary Winchester glanced at each other then down at Dean wrapped in Mary's arms, both trying not to breathe too loudly in fear of waking up the boy.

"What now?" John whispered into his wife's ear, unable to keep the grin off his face.

Mary carefully turned to look up at him, shining him a matching smile, her tired face instantly transformed, "Now we wait. Listen to that silence John, appreciate it."

"Maybe if I carefully take him…"

"No!" She glanced down quickly at the baby when her voice rose, instantly returning it to a whisper, "If he wakes up who knows how long it will be until he nods off again."

"Are you telling me we're sleeping on the sofa tonight?"

"That is precisely what we are doing." Mary told him sternly.

John rolled his eyes but kissed the top of her head, tucking it under his chin, "Do you think he'd notice if I changed the channel?" he whispered conspiratorially.

Mary gave a little knowing smirk, "There's a game on tonight, isn't there?"

"Possibly maybe."

Mary snorted.

"Look, I won't even turn up the volume. I just want to see…."

Mary shook her head, "No John, no, because when somebody scores Dean and I will be a sudden heap on the floor as you jump to your feet and begin yelling at the T.V."

"I do not yell at the TV…"

"Yes you do."

John sighed in defeat and a comfortable silence fell over them. He absently stared at the TV, not really focusing on what Godzilla was doing to Japan. His leg was starting to go numb under the combined weight of all three Winchesters resting against it.

"Are you asleep Mary?"

Mary cracked an eye open, glaring, "Well I am trying."

Unable to help himself, John squirmed slightly, shifting the weight of his wife and son. At once Mary slapped him with her free arm, twisting her head slightly to look up at him, "Stop fidgeting."

And so it continued until John finally gave up and succumbed to sleep, Mary, sandwiched between her two boys, momentarily after. It wasn't until one o'clock - with baby Dean having the half decency not to disturb his parents for at least the first few hours - that his heralding scream woke them. Then with stiff, sore backs from their uncomfortable positions on the sofa and muttered oaths under their breaths, Mary and John had doted on their little boy, fed him, changed him, sung him a lullaby and waited ever so patiently until he dropped back into dream land.

It wasn't until three days later that Mary realised she'd forgotten her fifth wedding anniversary. She stood in the kitchen, coffee in hand and watched through the window as John lay in the grass outside playing with Dean.

She hadn't had the candlelit dinner or the expensive bouquet of flowers but watching Dean eat a bug, his face screwed up in delight, she knew it didn't really matter.


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When Sam Winchester was not even one year old, six months to be exact, his Mom died. She'd been bleeding on top of the ceiling in Sam's nursery and then the fire consumed her as he watched; the bright colours pretty as they swam around the room.

Dean was the one that carried him out of the house and then there were sirens and flashing lights of red and blue and wet tear drops falling silently onto Sam's head as he sat scooped in his Dad's arms.

That was the first night Sam and Dean slept in the Impala.

John didn't sleep at all that night, nor much for the next few weeks.

Once upon a time he'd forgotten their fifth wedding anniversary. Now Mary wouldn't be alive to live through the tenth.


TADA!