When I first wrote this several people wanted John to remember, and one person asked for a sequel, I know it's late. But here it is. Just for you guys. Please review!

Happy Birthday

The curtains were pulled closed, the door shut.

A lone figure was prone on the big double bed, hidden beneath layers of blankets and sheets, a hand hanging of the edge of the mattress, hovering over a half hidden gun, as if in wait of some unknown horror.

The figures face was buried in the pillow, as though the tiny amount of light sneaking under the curtains was blinding.

Yes, the darkness helped. It always helped the oldest Winchester after he had been out all night.

He sighed, rolling over, last night's hangover wearing away fast.

He tried to burrow further into the blankets when he heard crying. He sighed, "Dean, get your brother, Daddy feels bad."

He let his eyes flicker closed again. The crying continued. "Dean?"

He groaned, cursing his lazy son as he swaggered across the room and into the hall. Flicking on the lights as he went.

The boy's room was close, Sammy was still crying. He opened the door and looked over to Dean's bed. The sheets were still, obviously Dean was either already up or had slept on the couch.

John didn't mind much, as long as he slept quietly. He saw a piece of paper stuck to the wall, he sighed, making a mental note to tell Dean to stop doing that.

He walked over the crib and saw his youngest son reaching intently for a teddy bear, once Dean's, which had been pushed to the end of the bed. Evidently his youngest son was too lazy to get it himself.

"Here you go Sammy." He whispered, brushing back his son's hair. "I love you Sammy." He kissed the child's forehead before leaving the room.

"Dean?" He called. Sighing when he heard no reply he made his way to the front door, intent on picking the news paper up from the doorstep, where the caretaker of the motel left if promptly each morning.

Sunlight flooded the room and he shielded his eyes for a moment before looking down.

He smiled. Dean was sitting on the front step, gazing out over the street.

"Hey Sport." He said.

A miserable face turned to him. "Hey."

John frowned. "Why don't you go inside?" he asked, as he bent down, retrieving the paper.

"Oh…" A flicker of hope spread across his son's face, but he saw it fall immediately when the child looked around the room.

"Are you ok Dean?"

"Yeah…Gonna check on Sammy." The child left, tiny feet shuffling on the floor. John frowned. Why was Dean sad today?

What was so special about today, he was so happy yesterday.

John's heart clenched. Yesterday…Dean…Birthday.

Memory came in flashes.

Dean coming into the room.

Dean asking him what day it was.

Dean at the table.

An expectant face.

Watery Eyes.

The paper on the wall.

The markings in the dirt…

Oh God. He forgot his own son's birthday! He stared at the floor. How could he do that?

What kind of a father forgets their own children?

He ran upstairs, intent on apologising, but he paused on the stairs as he saw Dean carry Sam out of their room and into the lounge room. He followed them and hovered out of sight.

Silent tears streaked down his eldest son's face. John felt his heart as it was torn out and stamped under foot, he did this.

He did this to his son.

He closed his eyes and wandered back down the hall, towards his son's room.

On the floor lay a single sheet of paper, counting the days Dean's birthday. There was a rip down the centre.

John Winchester clutched it with shaking hands as tears spilt over his foggy eyes and splashed on a tiny, seemingly unimportant piece of paper.

A piece of paper that represented his failure.

THE END…this time I mean it.

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Hey guys, please review. It means the world to me. Tell me what you think!

Until next time, keep smilin' :D shadowmayne.