Not the best thing I've ever written. It's just a little fluff, describing Dean's fourth birthday. (You didn't think I could possibly make his last birthday with Mary Winchester horrible and miserable could you?)

Hope you like it. The reference to baseball is taken from 4x19 "Jump the Shark." If you've seen the episode you'll understand.

Enjoy. Happy 31st Dean!

Four for a Boy

The day Dean Winchester turned four-years-old was probably the first, and the last, birthday he had ever been truly happy. When his child-like wonder gazed on, and his heart was full of innocence.

All morning he had bounced around their house in Lawrence, Kansas, with an energy only little boys can muster. He hummed cheerfully to himself, a smile painted on his face.

January 24th was his day, Dean knew. And he couldn't wait until John returned home from work that evening, so that they could celebrate.

Mary had made him his favourite breakfast of bacon, and fluffy pancakes with whipped-cream smiling faces. Then he had helped her with chores, or rather tried to, asking continually when Daddy would be home.

"Not until supper," she replied patiently, until finally he grew tired of asking, and became content to sit at the kitchen table, playing with play-dough.

"Mommy," he asked later, watching as she worked busily at the counter, rolling dough and sprinkling flour.

"Yes, baby?"

"What ya doing?" Dean stood on tiptoe, and peered curiously at the big, shiny metal bowl.

"I'm making your birthday cake."

"Really? When can I have it? Now?"

"Not until Daddy gets home."

"When that?"

"Supper time."

"'Kay..." Dean sighed, and padded back over to the table, and mushed up his latest creation. He concentrated very hard, rolling then patting, "Mommy! Mommy, look! I'm making a cake too."

She smiled at him, warmly. "Very good, Dean. But I think it's missing something."

"What?"

"Icing."

He slapped his forehead with his palm. How could he have forgotten the best part? "Would you like to help me make some?" Did she even have to ask? Of course, he did!

She brought over the bowl, full of ingredients to make chocolate frosting. "You stir it all together, okay?" Mary showed him how to do it, and he grasped the wooden spoon in his tiny hand, and mimicked her actions. He was obedient and efficient even at such a young age.

It was great fun, and brought him deep satisfaction.

When he had successfully completed his task, Mary took the bowl, and set it in the fridge while the cake finished baking. She returned with the spoon. "Would you like to lick it?"

I would have thought it impossible, but Dean's smile grew even larger, and he accepted it gratefully. He gazed wide-eyed, at the rich chocolate goodness, savouring the moment. And just as quickly shoved it in his mouth, and practically inhaled it.

"Dean, how about we go play something." This was turning out to be the best day of his life; he got cake, to stir, lick the spoon, and now he and his mom were going to play a game.

"Cars!" he cheered happily, racing to get the bucket full of dinky-cars. He picked the prettiest one and gave it to his mother, and picked a black one for himself. He drove it up and down the coffee table, and the chairs. He paused when he reached his mother at the couch. He crawled up next to her, and touched her belly. It had a little bump, not very big yet, but large enough that he could see she looked different.

"Momma?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there really a baby in there?"

"Yes, sweetie."

"They must be really tiny!"

"They are."

"Will they ever come out and play?"

"Soon, they will. In another three and a half months, you'll have a new baby brother or sister."

"Oh." Dean thought a moment, then went to his bucket, rooting around inside. He pulled out his most favourite dinky, and brought it over, placing it on Mary's tummy.

"What's this for?"

"They can have that one to play with. It's the best one." Dean's face scrunched up.

"What's wrong?"

"I hope it's a boy. I haven't got any toys for girls." Mary laughed and hugged him.

"You are going to be a wonderful big brother." Dean's eyes sparkled.

He leaned into is mother, and placing his lips close to her tummy, whispered, "I love you lots, baby brother."

Dean must have fallen asleep, laying against the warm and cradling body of his mother. For the next thing he remembered hearing was the familiar roar of the Impala pulling up. He ran, fast as lighting, to the door, greeting his father.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"There he is!" John swooped the little boy into his arms, and ruffled his hair. "How's the birthday boy?"

"Great!"

They ate a lovely dinner of macaroni and cheese, another of Dean's favourites. Then he crawled onto his father's lap.

"Presents or cake first?"

"Presents!" Two small boxes were set before him. The smaller of the two containing a shiny, new dinky, and the other containing a baseball glove. He inspected them both, and thanked his parents in a shower of hugs and kisses.

"I'll teach you how to play catch, Dean," John smiled. "Just me and you. Then when you're older we'll start going to baseball games."

"Yay!" Dean cheered. Something they could do, just him and Daddy.

He pushed the car back, and forth across the table cloth, while his mother retrieved the cake. She launched into "Happy Birthday." His parents singing together the most beautiful sound he thought he had ever heard. Mary placed it before him, four candles blazing brightly. "Make a wish."

And in the faint glow, Dean closed his eyes, and blew out the flames. "I wish we could be this happy forever." A simple and lovely wish really. Expect that he missed one of the candles, and it was doomed to never come true.