When Dean was one year old he discovered the deliciousness of a thing called pie.
One day Mary took him berry picking, the small child strapped tight to her chest as they moved through a large area of bushes they'd discovered just outside of Lawrence, picking the most perfectest specimens for their cooking creation.
Then she took him home and they spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, flour going everywhere as Dean discovered the delights of throwing it up in the air and letting a fine layer of white dust cover everything. It was like snow, except flour wasn't cold. Flour was fun and flour made the most amazing pastry in the world which, in turn, made the most amazing pie.
As the pie cooked and the rich aroma of blueberries wafting through the house, Mary began the task of deflouring both herself and Dean before setting him in his stroller. Earlier that morning the weather had been perfect, but now storm clouds threatened in the distance. Keeping them in mind she quickened her speed and as soon as the pie was ready she packaged it up carefully and sat it on top of the stroller. Defiantly ignoring the threatening weather, she set off down to the garage just a few blocks away, the pie cooling as she walked. Dean pointed and clapped as they arrived at the familiar building and soon enough John was meeting them in the carpark, swooping down to kiss his wife before lifting his son out of his chair and swinging him in the air.
"Daddy!" Dean yelled.
"Well this is a nice surprise champ."
Mary watched them interact with a smile, "Dean though you might be hungry."
John raised his eyebrows, looking from his wife to his son, to the box sitting on top of the stroller, "Genius this kid," he announced proudly, "he's a genius. What's in the box, son?"
"Pie!" Dean exclaimed, arms outstretched towards the box.
"Easy there Dean." Mary said, glancing up at the sky, "Maybe we should go inside, it looks like it's going to rain."
Sure enough, droplets began to fall on the concrete and they hurried into the workshop, setting the pie on top of the Impala's trunk. The workshop smelt of oil and leather and the horrid weather outside left it feeling dank and dreary yet it was strangely comforting being trapped inside, familiar and safe. Usually it was full of yells and loud machinery but John's partner hadn't come in today, leaving the place vaguely quiet.
"Why's the Impala in here?" Mary asked, propping herself up on the car and opening the box, carefully cutting the pie.
John shrugged and hoisted himself up too, sitting Dean on the trunk leaning against him, "Not much work at the moment so I'm just doing her up a bit. Gotta look after my baby."
John helped himself to some pie and Dean's round eyes followed the slice from the box to John's mouth. Mary raised her eyebrows, "What about looking after your other baby?"
John looked confused and Mary shook her head with good humor, glancing down at Dean.
Dean was now reaching across to the box next to him, almost toppling over in his eagerness to reach the food. John scooped him back before he hurt himself, "Whoa Dean."
Dean turned to look at his Dad with a heartbroken expression, "Pie?"
John snorted, "You want some pie?"
When Dean finally sank his teeth into the blueberry goodness his life took on a whole new meaning of purpose.
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When Sam was one year old he said his first word.
Dean was up from his chair in an instant, beaming like an idiot, "Did you hear that, Pastor Jim? Did you hear what he just said?"
Pastor Jim Murphy looked up from his work and smiled, "I did Dean, isn't your brother a smart boy."
"He's not a smart as me!" Dean said indignantly.
Jim laughed, "You never know, he might be someday."
Dean shook his head confidently, "No, 'cause I can do all of the alphabet and Sammy can't. That makes me smarter!"
Sam, sitting in his highchair, had his head tilted to one side, looking from his brother to the Pastor with an innocent smile. Dean scowled at him and Sam giggled which cause Dean to scowl even more. He flicked a lock of Sam's short curls angrily, "You just sit there and poop Sam, that's not smart."
Eager to maintain the peace Pastor Jim ruffled Dean's hair, "You're both smart boys." Dean continued to look unimpressed, flopping back down into his chair, arms folded and Jim couldn't help a private smirk at Dean's jealousy, finally adding, "I know just the thing for such smart boys."
He disappeared into the kitchen only to return moments later with a punnet of blueberries. Dean's eyes lit up and what then ensured left blueberries mushed into the carpet and purple juice smeared all over Dean's face. Sam had had delightful fun trying to feed Dean just as Dean had so often fed him.
Dean tried to lick off a lump of blueberry sitting on his nose, his tongue only slightly too short. This, combined with the purple hue of the rest of his face, caused Sam to point and shriek in delight, "Den!"
Dean's face suddenly matched Sam's, ignoring the blueberry for a moment, staring at his brother in awe, "Dude, that is so awesome, just wait until I tell Dad!"
Sam realised the effect of the word and began repeating it like a mantra, pounding his fists on the tray of the highchair, "Den, Den, Den!"
Dean sat himself on his knees in his chair, eagerly leaning towards his brother, "Okay then Sam, what about your name, can you say your name?"
"Den!" Sam repeated happily.
"What about Dad, can you say Dad? Daddy?"
"Den! Den, Den, Den!"
Dean beamed.