"Sammy!" A hissed voice in the darkness woke Sam, slightly disoriented because it was…nine pm? He'd only fallen asleep over an hour ago after Dean had told him it was bedtime.

"What, Dean?" Sam groaned, rolling over so that he could see his big brother's silhouette in the motel's window.

"Get up, we're gonna go see the Fourth of July fireworks!"

Sam's eyes flickered nervously over to the other bed. "What about Dad?" he whispered, very aware of his father asleep.

If he could see in the dark, Sam was pretty sure Dean was rolling his eyes. "Came home drunk outta his mind. He'll be sleeping for a while."

Suddenly excited, Sam jumped out of bed, saying delightedly, "Where are we going? Will they be starting soon? Will Dad be mad at us for leaving?"

"Shh, Sam!" Dean replied, his voice resembling a snake's hiss. In the dark, Sam was passed his shoes, and with minimal help tying the laces, he was ready to go. He followed dutifully as Dean grabbed something from his and Sam's shared duffel, then they snuck outside.

"C'mon, Sammy, they should be starting any minute!" Dean said, a wide smile gracing his face. Sam knew that his older brother was just as excited as he was.

"Where're we going?" Sam reiterated, barely containing his enthusiasm.

Without answering his question, Dean grabbed him and lifted him up so that the six-year-old could sit on the trunk of the Impala. Dean climbed up beside him a pointed to the sky, just above the tree line. "Look," was all he said.

Sam looked past Dean's hand and to the sky, but frowned when he didn't see anything. "Why aren't they exploding?" he asked innocently, slightly saddened that there were no exploding lights like he'd heard about.

"I overheard the lady next door saying they'd be lighting them up over there 'round 9:30," Dean replied and the corners of his lips turned down as he looked down at his watch. "Oh, that's in about twenty minutes still." He grinned impishly. "Good thing I've got…these!"

Dean then unveiled what looked like two thin, black sticks. Sam titled his head to the side in confusion. "What are we gonna do with sticks, Dean?" he asked.

Dean gasped, flaying a mock hand over his heart. Sam giggled at the exaggerated look on his face. "You think these are just sticks, Sam?"

"Uh, yeah?"

Dean grinned. "Wrong!" he exclaimed. With a flick of the wrist, Dean pulled out a lighter—Dad's lighter—and let the flame lick the top part of the stick. He held it away from his body and it began igniting, sparks flying from the tip.

"Wow!" Sam gaped at the stick. "What is it?"

"It's called a sparkler," Dean replied, waving it around in the air and creating light patterns in the air. "Look, I'm gonna write 'Sam.'"

Sam watched his brother in wonder as he swung the sparkler, making the trailing glow spell his name. "That's so cool!" he squealed. "Can I have one?"

"Sure, I brought plenty." Dean dragged five more sparklers from his jacket, carefully lighting one and handing it to Sam. "Keep it away from your body, and don't touch the hot part."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I know that Dean," he said, not wanting Dean to think he was a baby.

They dismounted the Impala and played with the sparklers. Sam had two at one point and ran around, arms outstretched as he exclaimed, "Look, Dean, I'm a' airplane!"

Dean laughed. "Yeah, kiddo, you are."

After all the sparklers were burnt out, Sam only had a minor burn on his finger from grabbing a stick he thought had cooled, but that barely hurt. Dean put a bandaid on it, so it was all better. Dean looked to his watch, then shouted in exhilaration, "It's 9:30! Come on, let's get back on the car to watch."

Sam waited in anticipation as he was hoisted up on the car. He stifled a yawn—it was way past his bedtime—and snuggled into Dean's side, waiting for the fireworks to show over the trees.

Suddenly, a bright blue light burst in the sky, followed by a loud crack! Sam jumped, though a wide smile found its way to his face. A red firework followed, and then purple and green ones. Each one was followed by the loudest banging sound Sam had ever heard, but he wasn't scared. He tensed each time one banged, but that didn't stop him from being excited beyond belief. There were circle ones, line ones, flower ones, even one that resembled a star, or so Sam thought. Dean would later vehemently insist that it looked like a plain circle.

"This is amazing, Dean," Sam whispered in between explosions. His head was rested against his brother's chest, and he felt his eyelids drooping.

"Glad you think so, kiddo," Dean said, running a loving hand through his hair. "You ready to go in?"

Sam shook his head, though he knew he'd be asleep before much longer. He smiled as he allowed his eyes to close, drifting off to the sound of fireworks and Dean's heartbeat.

That is, until Dad ruined it all.

"Dean Winchester, what the hell do you think you're doing out here?!"

Sam jerked up, eyes flying wildly until they met his father, who was fuming with anger.

"Dad, we were just—," Dean tried, but was cut off.

"I don't care what you were doing!" Dad yelled, yanking Dean roughly from the trunk of the car. "You know how dangerous it is to go outside by yourselves, and sneaking out when I'm sleeping?!"

"We're fine," Dean said, jaw set in anger. "Nothing bad's happening, I just wanted—"

"Wanted to what? Put you and your brother in danger?"

A bright red firework exploded, and Dad turned his head violently to look at it. Sam thought his gaze softened, but he still yelled, "That's what this was all about? Some stupid fireworks?"

Dean flinched at his tone of voice, and said gruffly, "It's not stupid, Sammy's never seen them before—"

"Get inside. Both of you," John ordered. "Now."

Sam scrambled down into Dean's arms urgently, knowing his dad wasn't joking around. They went back into the room and Dean began untying his laces. Sam looked up to Dean questioningly, but his brother only muttered, "Just go to bed, Sammy."

Sam nodded, allowing Dean to tuck him under the covers, because he really was tired. "Will Dad be mad at you?" he whispered.

Dean shrugged nonchalantly, as if Dad screaming moments before was nothing to him. "It's fine, Sam. Let's just hope he's not too drunk, yeah?"

Sam could tell it was supposed to be a joke, but neither boy laughed.

He tried to sleep, he really did, but the screaming coming from outside kept him awake. He didn't like it when Dad yelled at Dean, especially since it was Sam's fault this time. If he hadn't wanted to see the fireworks, then Dean wouldn't have snuck out at night with him.

Both Dad and Dean came back inside after a while, but neither of them spoke. Sam pretended to sleep. Dad collapsed on his bed, and soon enough he was snoring. Dean was slower to climb into bed beside Sam, but when he did, the mattress was shaking. Sam was confused, because it felt like Dean was shaking, as if he were cold. Why would Dean be cold in July?

Then he heard a hitched breath, and a realization struck him: Dean was crying.

He was crying and crying and crying. Giving up his facade of sleep, Sam wriggled over and asked softly, "What's wrong?"

He got no response, so Sam pushed, "It's Dad, isn't it?"

A sob escaped Dean's lips, and Sam hugged him, listening to Dean's cries and mad that his father had caused them. He didn't really understand what was so bad about what they did, only understanding that this was his favorite holiday ever. As long as they were by each other's sides, everything would be okay.

Happy 4th of July to us Americans out there! Have a wonderful day, and leave a review if you enjoyed it!