"Happy birthday, Dean!" Sam called out as Dean rolled into the kitchen.

Honestly with everything that happened recently he had pretty much forgotten that it was his birthday today. Of course, Sam would remember though.

"Thanks Sammy," Dean said with a smile, "Do I smell pancakes?"

It was the scent of cooking wafting through the apartment that had drawn Dean inexorably to the kitchen. The smell of pancakes was unmistakeable and mouth-watering.

"You certainly do," Nick said from the stove, "Sam told me you like pancakes. I hope that wasn't just a ploy to get me to make them because he wanted some."

Dean's smile grew wider. "I do, though Sammy really loves his pancakes too."

"There's no reason I can't enjoy them too, and it's Sam," Sam said, affecting an air of complete innocence, "Besides, Nick makes really good pancakes."

"Grandma's secret recipe or something?" Dean asked as he manoeuvred his chair next to the table. He frowned slightly as the left wheel squeaked and made a mental note to give it some oil later. It turned out looking after a wheelchair was not so different from looking after his Baby.

"I suppose you could say it's my secret recipe. It's something Andrea and I used to do with my Mom all the time. We would experiment with adding all kinds of random ingredients. Some of the results were disgusting – trust me, jelly beans in pancakes are not a good idea – but some of them worked really well, and this is one that we refined over the years."

Dean couldn't help smiling, one of his few cherished memories with his own mother was 'helping' her make a cake for Dad's birthday. That had been not long before Sam was born. He glanced over at his brother and noticed the slightly wistful look on Sam's face, which tinged his own happy memory slightly with sadness that Sam had never got to experience that. They'd had lots of lessons on how to forage for food in the forest and the like from Dad, those sorts of outdoorsy things were one of the few parts of their life that Sam had enjoyed, but it wasn't quite the same.

His thoughts were interrupted as Nick finished shuffling the pancakes onto plates and set them down on the table.

"Dig in, and let me know what you think."

Dean didn't need to be told twice and started funnelling pancakes into his mouth. They had been living together for about a week now but Nick still found that he was amazed by the rate at which Dean could make food disappear, and the apparently bottomless pit it disappeared into. It was almost mesmerising to watch.

"These are really good," Dean said, or at least that is what he tried to say. The reality was rather badly distorted by a mouthful of pancakes.

"Dean, we know they're good, but I'd rather not see them after they've been half chewed in your mouth," Sam said, wrinkling his nose slightly.

In response Dean stuck out his tongue with a bunch of half chewed pancake and Sam covered his face with his hand.

"I swear Dean, sometimes I think you're three rather than twenty-three."

Dean just grinned, shrugged and went back to inhaling his pancakes. He enjoyed messing around, and if it had the side effect that Sam had forgotten about not having been able to make pancakes with Mom, then all the better.

When they were done with breakfast Sam opened one of the kitchen cupboards and pulled out a large box wrapped in newspaper and handed it to Dean. Sam smiled at the genuine surprise on his face.

"Sammy, you shouldn't have."

"This is from me and Nick."

"Mostly Sam, I just helped," Nick interjected. He had been somewhat bemused by the newspaper wrapping, but Sam had explained that it was a tradition for the two of them to wrap presents in newspaper. It was also, as he pointed out, much more environmentally friendly.

Dean tore off the newspaper to reveal a shoebox.

"I know you prefer boots, and we thought these might be better than your old ones," Sam said as Dean opened the box. The old sneakers that Dean had been wearing since leaving the hospital were also rather dilapidated. They had really needed replacing even before the hospital, but it wasn't like Dean wore them often and shoes were expensive. Aside from underwear it was also basically the only item of clothing they ever bought new. Probably because of his time in Vietnam Dad had always insisted that they had to look after their feet.

He took out one of the boots and loosened the laces. Unlike his old boots on these ones the laces went all the way down to the toe, like on his sneakers, and most of the upper fastening points were hooks rather than eyelets. It made it a lot easier to get them as loose as he needed for his uncooperative feet and it was only slightly more difficult to get on than his sneakers.

"They're great, Sammy," Dean said with a smile, seeing Sam looking at him expectantly. He might still be stuck in the chair but it made him feel a bit more like himself again.

"I'm glad you like them," Sam said, sounding slightly relieved, "I've got a class to go to now, but I'll be back by lunchtime before Dad gets here."

Both of them had been rather surprised that Dad was going to be there. He had said that he would, but neither of them had actually expected him to keep his word, any more than he ever had the countless previous birthdays, Christmases and other holidays that he'd missed. Sam still wasn't completely convinced and he suspected Dean wasn't either, but they had spoken to him yesterday and he had even given them a time to expect him, which in itself was rather out of character so they had some hope he might really turn up.

Sam had just got back from his class and was running through his various contingency plans in case Dad didn't show up or something went wrong when there was knock at the apartment door. He frowned slightly, it was still almost an hour before Dad was supposed to get there and he was never early for anything that wasn't a hunt. As such when he peered through the peep-hole and saw his Dad standing there he was dumb-founded.

"Sam," John greeted warmly, clapping his younger son on the shoulder.

He was so surprised by Dad arriving early that he almost didn't notice that Dad was carrying a walking stick. It must be a present for Dean. He supressed a grimace, he knew Dean didn't like being reminded about not being able to walk and while it was a nice-looking stick, ebony with a brass handle, Dean wasn't going to appreciate it. Inappropriate presents had been one of the things he'd worried about, but there wasn't a good way to plan for that as he couldn't know what it might be. Unfortunately, he didn't have any time to do anything about it either, because he heard the wheels on Dean's chair as he came through from the kitchen.

"Happy birthday, son!" John called, gently moving Sam to one side and stepping around him.

"Thanks, Dad," Dean replied, smiling, "Whatcha got there?"

"Here, catch," John said, tossing the stick to Dean, who caught it deftly.

He turned it over a few times, and Sam could tell he was having to put a lot of effort into maintaining a neutral expression.

"Umm, thanks Dad, I guess I'll need one of these eventually," Dean managed half-heartedly.

Sam cringed inwardly slightly. He glanced over at John to see how he was reacting and was surprised to see what looked like a slightly mischievous grin. He'd been hoping for obliviousness and bracing for anger, now he felt confused.

"Try giving the handle a good yank."

Sam looked back at Dean as he took hold of the shaft of the cane in one hand and the handle in the other and pulled sharply. It looked like the handle separated from the shaft slightly and he saw Dean's eyes widen. Then Dean slowly continued pulling the handle away from the shaft, revealing a blade about the length of his forearm. It wasn't just a walking stick after all, it was a sword-cane.

"Wow, this is awesome. Thanks Dad," Dean said enthusiastically with a big smile on his face.

Sam couldn't help rolling his eyes slightly while smiling broadly himself. Of course Dean would be excited to be given weaponry. He glanced over at Dad again and saw him grinning himself. He hadn't seen that kind of playfulness from Dad since they had been very little. John looked over at him, caught his eye and bent down to pick up something he must have dropped by the door when he came in. It looked like a leather bag.

"Here, Sam, this is for you." John's voice was soft, almost tentative, and rather unlike what Sam was used to.

"For me?" Sam queried, taking the bag.

"Consider it a late Christmas present."

The bag was a smart, brown leather one. As Sam looked at it, it occurred to him that it looked very much like the sort of bag that a lawyer might take to court to keep their case notes in.

"Thanks, Dad, it's great."

"So, how would you boys like to watch some basketball this afternoon?"

Sam relaxed, a quiet afternoon watching basketball would be fine.

"Sure Dad, I think the Warriors are playing the… Suns…" he trailed off.

"Are those tickets?" Dean asked incredulously, looking at the papers John had extracted from his jacket pocket.

"Yep," John said, smiling broadly, "Warriors versus the Suns, today."

"How?" was all Sam could say in response.

"Called in an old favour," John said cryptically, "even got us in the wheelchair access section."

A few hours later and neither Sam nor Dean could quite believe that they were sitting in the Oracle arena in Oakland waiting for the match to start. The Warriors walked out onto the court and a huge roar went up from their side of the arena.

They were all still riding the high when they got back to the apartment. It had been a great game and they were all a bit hoarse from cheering. Sam and Dean went inside, but John stopped in the door, holding the door frame with one calloused hand.

"Well, I hope you had a good time, boys."

"We did," Sam said enthusiastically.

"Yeah, that was awesome," Dean added.

"Great," John said smiling, "Anyway, I just want to let you know that I'm going to head off on a hunt tomorrow."

Sam's face fell and he bit his tongue to avoid saying something he might regret. He couldn't believe Dad was abandoning them again already.

"Where are you headed?" Dean asked, neutrally.

"Just outside Albuquerque."

"Do you know what it is?"

"Not completely sure yet, there's an elderly couple that were found stabbed to death with most of the contents of their kitchen knife drawer, no signs of forced entry and no prints or anything on the blades."

While Dean and John were speaking Sam realised that Dad had been with them all day. He must have known about this hunt since at least yesterday, maybe before, but rather than just taking off like he would have done in the past he stayed for Dean's birthday. He had said even when they were at the hospital that he wasn't going to stop hunting and if he was going to make more of an effort to around for special occasions then Sam couldn't really ask for much more.

"Could be a poltergeist," Sam offered as an olive branch.

John nodded and his grip on the doorframe loosened slightly, "Could be."

"Do you know how long you'll be?" Dean asked.

"Not sure, depends if something else shows up after this. I'll keep you updated. In the meantime, Bobby will be coming down next week to help protect this place against the supernatural."

Sam frowned slightly, "Haven't we already done that?"

John gave a wry smile, "Not to the standards Bobby can. When it comes to defensive measures Bobby is second to none. I always concentrated more on the offensive stuff. Anyway, you two look after other while I'm gone."

It still wasn't quite the traditional 'watch out for Sammy', but at least it was reciprocal this time, so Dean would take what he could get. "We will Dad, you stay safe out there."

"I will."

He turned to go, but Sam called out at the last moment. "If you need us to do any research, just let us know."

John turned back briefly with a smile. "I'll keep that in mind." Then he strode over to his truck and pulled off into the night.

Sam and Dean were sitting on the sofa. Dean had his feet up on the Ottoman, it didn't really make any difference to him as he was still pretty numb, his right leg especially, but the doctors had said he ought to keep his legs raised when he could to avoid the blood pooling in his feet. There was some old film on the television but neither of them were really watching it. Nick had already gone to bed and really they ought to do the same soon themselves, they had just been too amped up when they got back from the game to go straight to sleep.

As Sam lolled, half asleep, next to him Dean relived the day in his head. It had been so long since they'd had a day like that with Dad, just father and sons and nothing hunting related in sight. He suspected Sam might not really remember actually having fun with their Dad. Once Sam found out about hunting those fun occasions had died away, and he'd only been eight then, so it was good to see Sam having fun too, maybe seeing that Dad wasn't all bad. He could tell that the two of them were still treading carefully around each other, but that was a big step up from perpetual screaming matches.

He yawned loudly and stretched – definitely time to get to bed.

"Dean," Sam said earnestly, suddenly sounding much more awake.

"What?" Instantly Dean was more alert as well, glancing around to check for any signs of danger.

"Your foot twitched."

"My what did what?" Tiredness and a sudden shot of adrenaline were not helping Dean take things in properly.

"Your left foot twitched, when you stretched. Not that much, but it definitely moved."

"Oh." Now Dean was staring at his foot as it was some kind of strange animal that he was unsure of how it would react. To a certain extent that was true, after all this would be the first time since his injury that he'd had any signs of movement.

"Can you do it again?"

"I don't know." Dean frowned and focussed on his foot, trying to make it do any sort of movement. Nothing happened immediately, but eventually as he continued to try and think about it his foot did move. It was a small uncontrolled jerk, but definitely there, and after having nothing at all for over a week he was ecstatic to get anything at all.

Author note: Sorry about the long break, I hope this chapter is worth the wait. I'm aware the earlier chapters might be a bit heavy on the angst so I thought something a bit lighter would be a nice change of pace. I'm still feeling my way around the somewhat reformed John so let me know if you think it's working.