Chapter 36

Born on the Fourth of July

"Birthdays are ordinary days sprinkled with stardust."

Jonathan Swift.

Bobby's house was not what Emma had expected, though Sam had assured her that it once had looked exactly like she thought it would. Though Bobby was a very sweet man and fiercely protective of the two brothers, Emma didn't take him as the housekeeping type. And by all accounts, he wasn't normally. But he was keeping the house clean for Johnny and he had Sam and Cas to help-Dean, from the sound of it, just maintained what he needed to for Johnny's sake and to keep from getting nagged by the neater members of the family.

Today, though, was a demonstration in organized chaos. The house was technically clean, but every bare spot inside and on the porch had been covered in balloons and streamers and little banners proclaiming it was Johnny's first birthday. Sam teased his brother about spending all of the money he'd earned on a recent car rebuild on this one birthday, but Emma had seen her boyfriend going just as overboard for his nephew. Bobby and Castiel were no better.

She wondered sometimes when she looked at the little boy and saw him observing the four men in his life with something akin to awe if it wasn't just a bit overwhelming to be the center of attention for this overprotective bunch. He was small and the memories of the neglect he'd suffered at the hands of that woman, who was his mother by birth alone, couldn't be so strong, but they had still left an impact on the boy. It was there in the way he latched on to anyone willing to hold him and quickly placed his head on their shoulder or, more ideally for him, at their collarbone where he could bury his nose in their neck. After months of barely being touched or held, he was rarely more than a foot away from one of these men-and angel-who obviously loved him very much.

And yes, Emma was getting attached, too.

She may have tracked down where Johnny's mother lived, let the air out of all of her tires, and put out the word around the woman's favorite hang-outs that she had various forms of venereal diseases. Emma wanted to do much more, but the fact that she actually knew an angel of God with smiting capabilities kept her in line.

Johnny was on the floor next to Bobby's coffee table, watching with interest as Dean and Sam argued about trying to level a very un-level cake with extra icing. Sam was all for buying one from the grocery store in town, but Dean had made the cake (the third attempt since number one was burned and number two had an ingredient, they still weren't sure what, left out) and he was "damned well serving it." Emma had been his taste tester for this cake, since the other three in the house had sampled one of the earlier attempts and weren't keen on trying a third. He'd actually done a good job at getting it to taste like devil's food cake. It just stuck a little (a lot) to the pan.

"Do you realize how much icing it would take to even that out? Half of the cake is still glued to the tin."

"I bought two containers. Figured I'd have to fend Cas off of this stuff, what with his sweet tooth." Emma had noticed that, too. Though the angel often ate a little of what everyone else was having, more often than not he got an extra helping of dessert.

She'd noticed other things, too. Something was a little off between the angel and the older brother since she had last seen them together, but they still almost instinctively did things for one another. Dean seemed to be able to do that for Sam and Bobby, too, so that may have just been his nature. Personally, Emma thought even if it wasn't a romantic relationship, Dean and Castiel were a couple, like it or not.

"And if it bothers you too much, we'll mark the side with more cake and less icing so you don't ruin your delicate figure with all that sugar, Samantha."

Sam glared at Dean and snarked something back at Dean about love handles and clogged arteries, but Emma's attention was back on the birthday boy, who was pulling himself to his feet again and letting go of the table as he did. He'd done this several times over the last few days since Emma arrived and fallen more often than not in the process. With just the right hand to grab and regain his balance, he struggled to keep himself upright most of the time. Still, Johnny had tried a step here or a step there and looked to be getting closer to succeeding with each attempt.

"Dean," she said a bit quietly, but hopefully loud enough that the father would hear her. "Dean..."

The man stopped mid-icing and looked at her, then his son, who was free-standing now beside the table with a stance that held more confidence than it had over the last few days. She couldn't hear the whispered "Hey, Cas, bring Bobby," but she could read his lips to see it. Instantly, the angel was at Dean's side with Bobby beside him. Before the older man could grouse about being unexpectedly transported, he saw what everyone was watching. Dean inched forward slowly with the biggest, proudest grin on his face that Emma thought she had ever seen. "Hey, Buddy. Come on." The hand not holding the butter knife covered in white frosting motioned for Johnny to come forward.

All of the men looked at Johnny with barely contained excitement on their faces. Even Castiel, who had probably seen the whole of creation and millions upon millions of humans taking their very first step had a look of anticipation and wonder. Johnny grinned and then tottered for a moment, but he was able to maintain his balance this time around. Dean was crouched down on the floor and was tucking the handle of the knife into his pants pocket. Castiel moved behind him and took the knife back out with a muttered, "It will just go on your shirt when you stand." Yet, the angel's eyes never left Johnny's teetering form.

Dean half knelt as he moved another step closer. "Come on. Come to Daddy."

Johnny was hesitant for a moment before taking another step, then another and another. His feet moved quickly and he was fast on his way toward landing face-first on the ground, but Dean caught him. Emma, Sam and Bobby were clapping and grinning and hooting right along with Dean as the man scooped his son into his arms and hugged him so tight there couldn't have been a millimeter of space between them. "That's my boy!"

From his place at Dean's side, Castiel was smiling and looking every bit as proud, if less vocally so, as the hunter. The angel placed his hand on Johnny's back an rubbed it encouragingly. The baby pulled back from Dean to look at Cas with a broad grin. If the boy could have spoken, Emma swore he would have asked his second father if he'd just seen that. He then looked up at Dean with that same smile. "Little guy, that was awesome!" That bright look on the man's face didn't fade as he turned to Castiel. "I hope you're up to running after our boy."

It had probably been an offhand comment, and maybe Dean had said "our" to mean the whole family, but Emma wasn't so sure. And she was absolutely certain that that word did something to Castiel.

#

Jody had now been taken aback by the look of Bobby's place twice. What the angels had done to it had been amazing, but today she was far more impressed with what four men had done to it for the sake of one little boy's birthday. She realized that one of those "men" had supernatural abilities because he was an angel, but it was still impressive that they had covered the house in streamers and balloons. The yard already had a picnic table set up and the grill looked to be ready to start cooking burgers and hotdogs any time now. She felt like pointing out to them that Johnny wasn't going to remember any of this and she'd been told the guest list was very short, so there was no one to impress.

She thought about it, but realized that this wasn't done for Johnny at all. Not really. It was done for the adults who never got a birthday like this growing up. Two boys who traveled across the country with their father living in a bunch of seedy, cheap motels probably didn't allow for much in the way of birthday celebrations. Neither did growing up the son of an alcoholic asshole and a woman with the worst case of Stockholm Syndrome this side of the Atlantic; yes, she had been well aware of Bobby's past long before he had sat her down and confessed everything about that night and his father.

A pretty blonde, probably mid-twenties even though she could pass for younger, came out carrying a bag of paper plates and napkins along with a few heavy glass paperweights to hold them down. She spotted Jody and headed down the front steps with enviable speed. Ah, to be twenty-something again.

"You must be Jody," she said with a smile as she approached. "I'm Emma Wennerstrand, Sam's girlfriend."

"So are you partly responsible for this Fourth-of-July-meets-birthday-party-store explosion that seems to have happened all over the house?"

The girl set her load down on the table and began placing the paperweights on top of the paper products so they wouldn't be picked up by the steady South Dakota wind. "I blew up balloons and tied bows wherever you see them." She laughed as she wadded up the plastic bag she'd carried the plates in. "I swear, those guys can tie any kind of functional knot you can think of, but making an even bow seems out of their depth." She noticed the bags in Jody's hands. "If you have anything that needs to stay cold, we can take it into the house. Presents table is up on the porch." Emma held out her hand to take one of the bags, and the sheriff wasn't too proud to hand over the tupperware cosy-she'd been conned into going to one of those parties once and felt like she had to buy something, so sue her-that contained her pasta salad.

"How did you know who I am?" Jody asked as she followed Emma toward the house.

The blonde gave Jody a little, knowing smile. "Because Bobby can't stop talking about you."

And maybe Jody's face turned a little pink in a way it hadn't since she was a kid in middle school. It only got worse when Emma let out a small chuckle. "Bobby," she called into the house as they made their way to the kitchen. "Jody's here."

Jody didn't feel nearly so embarrassed when she heard a hushed voice asking, "D'you think I should scrap the hat or not?"

"Just go get her, Romeo," she heard Dean reply, not as quietly.

Bobby walked out carrying a bag of charcoal, but the moment he saw Jody, he looked as though he wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. "I guess you're going to be the grillmaster today?" she asked as he nervously tried to tell her hello. She could understand why at that moment Emma was looking at him like he was quite possibly the sweetest thing she had seen. Jody was feeling the same way.

The blonde disappeared into the kitchen and Jody decided to just lean forward and give Bobby a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to go see the birthday boy, but I'll be out if you need company."

Bobby looked bemused as Jody headed toward the sound of Dean clearly talking to his son. "Go on, Johnny. Walk to Cas." Jody glanced in at the living area/study and saw the little boy looking up at his father with that look of complete trust that usually only very young children possess. The little boy stretched out his left arm toward the angel, not daring to let go of his father's thumb with his hand. Both of the baby's parental figures were crouched on the floor, one releasing him to the other.

Castiel looked more at ease in the dark blue jeans and white T-shirt than the last time she had seen him in them. He had looked so lost them, and she swore he would have given anything to have had his security blanket, that trenchcoat, back. Now, he looked like any normal dad, a matching set with Dean in his Led Zepplin tee and faded jeans.

The baby took one step, then another, finally too far from Dean to keep his hold on his hand and not yet close enough for him to reach Castiel. The trek was only five or six unaided steps and they got more unsteady toward the end, but it was obvious it wouldn't be long before the man and his angel would be chasing after the boy. Rather than let the child fall, Cas placed his hands at either side of his ribs and pulled him close for a hug.

"Looks like you have two big milestones to celebrate today," Jody said.

Dean looked up at her from his place on the floor and grinned proudly. "Technically, three. His birthday, walking and that whole Fourth of July, Declaration of Independence thing."

"Yeah, you smarta-" She stopped herself from finishing that thought with the small child in the room. She could hear the younger man snickering, and she turned her attention to Johnny and the angel. He was assuring the boy that he had done a very good job and that he was "incredibly proud" in a soft voice that only barely reached Jody's ears. She hoped that whatever woman decided she wanted to put up with Dean was able to accept Cas as part of the package because she was fairly sure that being separated from that boy would break the angel's heart. (She wondered if it wouldn't break it just as much for him to be apart from Dean, but she'd never gotten any indication that either of them necessarily swung in that general direction.)

She glanced in the kitchen for something she could help with. She saw a very sad looking cake that had flecks of dark chocolate cake throughout the very white icing. She dared to glance at the top and was surprised by the startling contrast between the icing job and somewhat lopsided cake and the penmanship of the blue icing on the very top. That was undoubtedly Castiel's work. It was practically calligraphy. The cake she wasn't sure about. She doubted any of them had much more in the way of baking ability beyond heating up a frozen pizza.

"I promise, it tastes better than it looks," Sam said as he carried a tray full of hot dogs and hamburgers out of the kitchen and headed for the front yard.

"Bite me gigantor," Dean snapped. That answered Jody's question about who had made the cake.

"And just in case it doesn't," said a British voice Jody didn't recognize, "we brought pie." She quickly turned at the sound and tried to resist the urge to pull out her gun. Standing at the doorway between the two rooms was a blond man and a man who appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent. Both were good-looking men with fairly different features. Where one was tall, blond and blue-eyed, the other was shorter, dark-haired and dark eyed. They seemed at ease around one another, as though they had been friends for some time. Considering how long angels could be alive, that friendship could be millennia old.

"Who invited you?" Dean said before turning his attention to his son who was trying to walk to him again.

"You can't tell me you were really thinking about leaving us out," the blond man said, sounding exaggeratedly hurt, but not a bit surprised. "Where would little Johnny's birthday be without his Uncle Balthazar and Auntie Metatron?"

The shorter man gave the blond a look that might have smote a weaker man. Jody was going to guess that Metatron identified himself as a he and didn't take to being called "Auntie." Jody tried to recall where she had heard the name before; unlike her ... boyfriend?... she was not as familiar with all of the world's lore, so it was rare when she knew whatever supernatural thing Bobby was involved in without him giving her the Cliffnotes version of the legend.

And then she remembered. "Metatron as in Alan Rickman from Dogma?" Her husband had been a fan of Kevin Smith's movies, from Clerks on through to Jersey Girl (which he'd loved to hate). Jody hadn't seen Dogma in years, but she knew she was right.

"I only wish I had that voice," the man said. "Sadly, he's not in my genetic line." Jody had to admit that though his voice was not as low as the actor's, but Metatron's baritone was soothing enough.

Jody didn't really get to ask more questions as Dean was busy sniffing around the pie boxes in the angels' hands. The complete lack of fear or reverence that the man had for these heavenly creatures astounded Jody. Even though Castiel had made it very clear that he wished to be her friend and was busy playing house as Bobby's son and Johnny's parent, she never really forgot that he was still an angel.

When she stepped outside, she saw a woman dipping chips into quite possibly the largest container of dip that Jody had ever seen. There was something about her that just screamed otherworldly, from the way she glided down the table to grab a container of seafood seasoning to the amount of it she dumped on her single bite of chip and dip. Bobby didn't seem entirely comfortable with the woman, either, but at least he seemed familiar with her.

It was a damned good thing the sheriff was pretty sure she loved the man now putting burgers and hot dogs on the grill. Otherwise, this might be a little too much.

#

"Are you happy with yourself?" Metatron asked as he moved to Balthazar's side. The blond angel was busy watching Dean and Castiel encouraging Johnny to walk between them in the soft grass that Joshua had planted on the front lawn.

"Of course I am," the blond angel said with a put-upon innocent expression. "I'm always happy to see our nephew. Never thought I'd ever get to be a proper uncle, but here I am."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." It was much easier now to be intimidating than when he'd been speaking with the vocal chords of a preteen boy and standing more than half a foot shorter than his fellow angel. Though was shorter than Metatron now that he was back in his original body-5'8" may have once been tall, but he knew it was barely average today-at least he would have had the stature, age and voice of a grown man. "Who helped you alter Dean's dreams? A cupid?"

"I went to our fearless leader for that. He was happy to help." The dark-haired angel and hunter happily congratulated the little boy and stood impossibly close as they showered him with affection. When one or the other wasn't looking, their attention would move from the boy and look at one another in a way that Metatron suspected even they did not realize.

"I am hardly surprised," Metatron said. "He does love messing with Dean." That was an understatement, and they both knew it, but at least Gabriel generally did it in good humor.

"It isn't as though I'm completely altering the flannel wonder's dreams. Just guiding them and making them more coherent."

"Why involve yourself at all?"

"You didn't see Cassie's face when he realized he had the hots for Dean. Most would see it as the opportunity it is, a chance to get laid and maybe even be happy. At the very least, they'd be embarrassed, but he looked like the floor had just dropped out from under him. He was devastated. Maybe back when Michael was still running the show, when actually feeling was a bloody curse, I might understand. Not anymore."

Metatron could hear a surprising level of conviction in Balthazar's voice. It wasn't the place for a heart-to-heart, but he made a mental note to ask his friend about this need to make Castiel happy. He couldn't help but wonder if Balthazar harbored something other than brotherly love-or the angelic equivalent, which Metatron still didn't entirely grasp-for Castiel. Balthazar didn't seem like the tragic figure who would do anything to make the one he cared about happy, even if it meant that person wouldn't be with him. But the angel had surprised Metatron in the past.

"I'm curious. Have you been to see Edna now that you look like your old self?"

Metatron shook his head. "The last time I tried, it was such a disaster, I have to admit that I'm a little afraid to try again."

He had gone to his wife's corner of heaven, and Metatron had tried to explain to her what had happened to him. At first, she hadn't seemed to understand, and maybe she didn't, but she told him that she preferred the memories of her husband as she had known him. It had been too disturbing for her to see a man with his mannerisms and speech, but with a different face. That had been millennia ago. Each time he'd tried to visit her, she asked him not to return—though he always did a century or so later. And with each return, it took her longer and longer to realize it was him. The last time, she never had.

She hadn't wanted a man with his mannerisms, but a stranger's face. Now, after thousands of years as an angel, he feared the opposite would be true. He would look like himself once again, but they would effectively be strangers. While he had evolved beyond the man she saw each day in her heaven, and she had stayed the same, carefully preserved in her never-ending memories of the past.

He wasn't sure how he could face her rejection, and he was even more afraid of his own desire to be with her would not be the same when he was faced with her unchanged after all these years.

Balthazar threw an arm across Metatron's shoulders. "How could she resist a stud like you?"

Metatron offered Balthazar the look that was reserved for only him. It said quite clearly that the blond was Metatron's closest friend, though he often wondered why. Considering that one of his other options was the Angel of Death who was busy digging in to the picnic food, perhaps the why was just rhetorical.

The burger she had created for herself was so large that her overly hooked nose poked into the toasted bun as she attempted to take a bite of the entire sandwich, but it didn't seem to bother her at all. From the looks of it, she had gotten bacon from somewhere, though Metatron hadn't seen any on the table. Like the crock of crab dip from a spot in Maryland, he assumed she'd brought it with her. As Dean passed with his own plate of food, she extended a long-fingered hand delicately holding to a baggie of bacon out to the hunter like it was drug contraband.

"Is that...?" he asked as he took the back. "Thick and thin cut bacon?"

"I considered adding Canadian as well, but that is hardly real bacon."

"You're awesome," he said with a grin. He took the bag and happily loaded his burger with all of the greasy stuff as he walked over to the blanket where Castiel and Johnny were seated.

"You're getting awfully chummy with Dean," Balthazar said, sounding almost accusatory as he addressed the other angel. Considering the amount of work he had invested in ensuring Dean and Castiel had a chance, that tone was probably justified.

"I like him," Azrael said, simply, and Metatron wasn't sure if that boded well for Dean or not. "He is a kindred spirit."

"Because he likes artery-clogging food?" Metatron asked as he looked up at the tall, lean angel who looked quite happy as she ate her burger.

"Among other things. He has a greater understanding of death and order than other humans, much as he disregards his responsibilities to both."

"Well, you are certainly putting him on the fast track to a heart attack, so death may not be an issue for much longer," Balthazar quipped as he watched Dean giddily eating his meal as he sat on a blanket on the grass. The angel was in the process of feeding the baby some kind of pureed dish, but he paused in his feeding to offer a disapproving look at Dean for his choice in food and then meet Azrael's eyes with the same expression of disapproval for the hunter's enabler.

"Castiel has been clearing his arteries from the time they met. Dean could eat like this until he was ninety quite easily," Azrael said.

Balthazar was eying the cake on the counter. "You can eat all that you want of the greasy stuff. Just leave me a slice of cake." He looked at the deformed, over-iced attempt at a cake on the table. "Well, not that cake, necessarily. I'm not entirely sure we can trust it."

Metatron had more faith in Dean, though he found his judgment clouded when it came to anything sugary. He didn't recall having such a sweet tooth before he'd become an angel, but he had certainly developed an overactive one in the centuries since.

"You can have mine, then," Azrael said. She was probably the lone angel who had tasted sugary sweets not to get an almost cocaine-worthy fix from the stuff. Then again, she was also the only angel to have been wholly unimpressed by Lucifer and Michael, so it was an established fact that she was... odd.

#

Dean had Johnny on his hip as Sam lit the candle on Johnny's birthday cake. He glanced up at Cas to see the angel cocking his head in that inquisitive way of his, obviously baffled once again by strange human traditions. Or that they were doing the tradition despite the fact that Johnny was not really able to blow out a candle or make a wish. He was teething again, so he could probably drool on it to put it out, but Dean was pretty sure that would ruin some people's appetites, though not so much his own. Since becoming a dad, he'd had more slobbery fingers jammed into his mouth than he could count. (Johnny had a fascination with people's mouths, his family members' in particular.) A little drool wouldn't matter much for him.

"Ready, kid?" Dean asked, but got little more than the usual pleased smile from his son. Johnny was happy, but he didn't quite understand all of this. There were lots of people, all showering attention on him, presents, toys, eating on the grass. It had been an odd day for the boy. Though, as Dean leaned closer to the candle, Johnny's attention quickly turned toward it. Dean watched as bright green eyes went wide and the small pink mouth formed a little O as the baby focused on the light from the flame.

Thinking it was probably a good idea to blow out the candle before Johnny's attention turned to trying to grab the candle or the flame, Dean blew it out, making a wish for the boy who wasn't yet old enough to make one for himself. Just let him be happy, healthy and safe.

Johnny let out a gasp as the flame turned to smoke, then turned to Dean as though wondering if he'd done it and how. Emma took over cutting the cake Dean had made, happily taking orders as he asked her to make a plate up for Cas.

The angel actually looked like he was taken off guard by that. "What?" Dean asked in response to the look he was getting. "You didn't eat because you were feeding Johnny."

"Dean," Cas said, with a tone a person might use when talking to a slow child, "I do not require-"

"I know, but you can still enjoy it."

"Cake and pie for you, Dean?" Emma asked, and Dean was torn. There were two pies, and it seemed a waste to fill up space in his stomach for cake when pie was so awesome. But he knew he should take some of the cake, since he was the one who made the thing.

"Sure," he said. "Slice of cake for my boy, too." Sam's girlfriend was cutting into the really lopsided part of the cake, which now only looked flat because it had about triple the icing. "Give that slice to Cas. Lots of icing." She gave him one of those "you're adorable" smiles and did as he asked.

He got a pleased smile from Cas, too, and for just a split second, it brought back memories of the angel when he had been under the influence of Famine. Not long ago, just the memory of that day would have set off an ache in Dean's gut like nothing else, but not now. Famine had lied. Cas had told him as much. The angel had seen something in Dean back when he was still Castiel, warrior of god, and had no reason to do a decent thing for Dean—though arguably, Dean hadn't given him many reasons since—and he'd offered his own grace to make the hunter whole.

There was something, though, hidden behind that look of gratitude. It unsettled Dean, but not in a way he could place. It reminded him too much of the way the version of his friend had looked at him in the dreams he was still having each night. The thought hurt because it would not happen. Cas had freaked out just with Dean's head in his lap, and even if he were so inclined, Dean knew he broke too much and hurt too many to add Cas to that list any more than he was already on it.

Johnny babbled something that sounded just enough like "Dadadada" to get Dean's attention. Every time he heard his son make that noise, he looked in hopes that it was directed at him. Sometimes it was, but there was no rhyme or reason to it yet. He'd used the noise for everything from Dean to a teddy bear to a spatula.

There was no denying that this time, his son was looking squarely at him.

"Do you think he really meant that?" Dean asked quietly and slowly as a hush fell over the group around the table.

"It sounded as though he did," Cas said, trying to get Johnny to repeat the noise, but with no luck. The baby did, however, revel in the attention.

"We'll give him a little more time," Dean said as he walked back over to the blanket spread out on the soft grass and said goodbye to Jody and Bobby, who was going with her to get a little alone time with the sheriff. Jody had to monitor the annual fireworks display and the crowds that typically gathered for it, and Bobby figured that he might as well come along.

"We won't have long now before we pile into the Impala and head for the fireworks," Dean said as Cas took a bite of his cake and, thankfully, looked like he enjoyed it. "If your family wants to go, they'll have to fly there. Impala's for Winchester family only, though we can probably make room for Azrael. She's thin enough. And she did bring bacon."

"Balthazar and Metatron brought pie," Cas reminded him.

"Yeah. I don't want to pi- tick off my suppliers, so I shouldn't play favorites. Just family, then." Dean began setting up Johnny's plate in front of him and trying to show him how to eat the dessert by demonstrating with his own slice. Call him Duncan Hines. It wasn't half bad. "Hope you don't mind squeezing in the back with Johnny and Emma," he said to Cas as he tried to show Johnny how to eat the cake. "Ol' Jolly Green gets grumpy if his legs are cramped."

And there Cas was, looking at Dean with that expression of awe. The hunter just didn't get it. "Dude, is this about the family thing again? You have to know you are after all this time. How many more times do I have to tell you before you actually believe me?"

"At least once more," Cas said with a small smile. "I know what family means to you. To be part of the Winchester family means a great deal."

And Dean could feel this moment getting all chick-flicky-was that even a word? it was now-so he pushed Cas's head away as he sometimes did to his brother. "In the words of Bobby Singer, 'Idgit.'" Dean tried to ignore that part of his brain was cataloging the texture, length and softness of the angel's hair long after his hand had left Cas's head. He realized, though, that he may have insulted the angel by trying to diffuse those loaded words with humor. His eyes met blue, and to the hunter's relief, there was a small smile on Cas's face.

Dean saw Cas's eyes going down to Johnny's slice of cake and the baby's inquisitive stare—head tilt included; that was apparently a permanent fixture thanks to their angel-baby bonding time, not that Dean minded.

"Why did you give him cake? He is too small to actually eat it."

"Yeah, but not too small to make a mess of it. It's what kids are supposed to do on their first birthdays."

"But Sammy's too small to eat it," Dean said as he looked at the little cake from the grocery store bakery.

"It's not about the eating it. It's about having it for his first birthday," John told him with a ruffle of his blondish hair.

"He'll make a mess," Dean pointed out as he looked up at his baby brother in the cart.

"And we'll take a picture of it. That's the point."

Dean shoved his hands in the pockets of his second-hand Osh-Kosh overalls. It still didn't make sense to him, but his dad didn't look sad, and that was something, right?

"It was a tradition for your mom's family," John said, and he stopped the cart in the milk aisle to get his wallet out of his back pocket. "I found this when I was... going through a few of the old photos." Dean remembered that. His dad had cried. A lot.

Dean was kinda surprised his dad was even talking about her. But that speech teacher or whatever she was had told John that Dean might be a little less silent if they talked about his mom once in a while. She'd been a "quack," talking about some people named Foster who could take Dean and Sammy in while John "got himself together." Dean didn't have to go back after that.

But Dean had gotten to look at the photos, at least. There hadn't been much talking, mostly John holding Dean as they both cried, all the while Sammy slept in the motel-provided crib.

John pulled a picture from his wallet and showed it to Dean. "We did it with you, though your mom made the cake." Instinctively, Dean's face twisted at the thought, not of the pain of his mother's loss but at the memory of her cakes. John managed the smallest of smiles at that. It wasn't much, but it was something, at least. Sometimes, Dean had trouble remembering what his dad even looked like when he smiled.

"Yeah," John said, "your mom wasn't so good with cake."

"But she made awesome pie," Dean said. He didn't know if he was trying to defend her or just remembering his favorite food. It didn't matter. His dad got this wistful look on his face and said that, yeah, she did. But he still didn't look like talking about her was hurting him, like he did most of the time.

Dean figured he'd label this a "good day" for them both.

The five-year-old took the picture from his dad with great care. There was so little left of their life before home became the Impala or the hotels where they stayed each night, and he knew how precious each remaining piece was. What he saw was himself, covered head to toe in cake and grinning up at the woman standing next to him. Though her head was cut off, Dean knew it was his mother.

That night, Sammy turned out to be a really delicate cake eater, and he only dipped some fingers in the icing and barely even tasted it. "That doesn't make for a good picture, Sammy," Dean said. He'd been so determined to get a good memory, another happy photo for his dad. So, the five-year-old jammed his hand in the cake, pulled up a nice wad of the stuff, and before John could stop him, smashed the cake into his baby brother's face. Sammy immediately cried, Dean looked sheepish, but John still took the photo. Dean couldn't be sure, but he thought his dad might have even laughed.

If it was still around, the picture of them was probably somewhere in the Impala, maybe in Bobby's attic. He'd have to look for it later.

"Sammy," he said, mind still back decades ago and still thinking of his little brother rather than the gigantor making googly eyes at his girlfriend, "get a photo of this. It's a family tradition that the birthday boy makes a mess of his birthday cake." His brother walked over with his phone in hand. "And if the birthday boy is a delicate little flower who won't make a mess, then sometimes family has to help."

Sam looked at him strangely, which meant Dean had never told him this story before. At least this time it was a happy memory that the older brother would be relaying as soon as the photo was done. "Get a picture of Cas, too. I don't think he's thrilled with the idea of a messy baby, and I'd like to get his constipated face just for posterity's sake."

The sour face only intensified in Dean's direction, but the man only laughed.

#

Once upon a time, Castiel would have pointed out that fireworks were the wasteful use of chemicals sent rocketing into the sky by gunpowder, that they could be dangerous, that their lights and color came from the various chemical compositions. Today, as he watched Dean look up at the night sky and occasionally down at his son as he sat on his father's lap while Dean was seated comfortably on the hood of his precious Impala, he knew he couldn't. It had been on the tip of his tongue to point out that the blue and green lights above were the result of copper and barium, respectively, but the hunter looked years younger as the night sky lit up above them. The words died on the angel's tongue.

At first, Johnny didn't seem to know what to do with the fireworks, as they filled the air with the stench of sulfur and spent black powder and made noises so loud that despite the earplugs Dean had fitted snugly in the boy's ears, Castiel knew the boy couldn't help but feel rattling through his chest following each loud crack and bang. At first, he had looked to Dean and Castiel for reassurances that these noisy, bright, smelly things were safe, and both had offered smiles and comforting touches to show him that they were. They had sat through a few of the rockets, parked near but not at, the location of the display itself. Johnny was obviously more confident that these things were safe, though Dean's arm remained firmly around his waist and Castiel's finger was still gripped tightly by the boy's right hand.

Sam and Emma were seated in the grass in front of them, occasionally taking their eyes off of the display and one another to glance back at the little boy and offer a smile at the sight. The smaller woman was seated between Sam's legs with her back against his chest and he rested his cheek atop the crown of her head. Castiel found himself wondering if the hunter had been this way with Jess as well.

Metatron and Balthzar were off to the side, both settled on the grass, looking up at the sky. Dean had made them move further away after the first few fireworks, when it became clear they were going to talk through the whole show. While Castiel had been able to refrain himself from commentary on the chemistry of firework-making, they were not. Azrael had not come along, which was probably for the best, since Castiel wasn't entirely sure how she would have fit in with their group. It was quite possible she would have given statistics for the number of pyrotechnic display-related deaths each year.

"Watch this," Balthzar said to Metatron, lifting his hands to the sky as a new firework shot heavenward. Castiel didn't know what his brother was going to do, but it was obvious he was going to show off. The firework lit up with a brilliant blue-white light and took the shape of an angel.

"Great, now all of Sioux Falls is going to think that was an apparition and turn this place into a pilgrimage spot," Metatron retorted, obviously unimpressed with Balthazar's show. The blond angel began to argue. "People think they see Jesus on toast and mildew stains. You made a thousand foot angel."

However, the rest of their bickering was cut off by the sound of a loud squeal from Johnny followed by babbling that sounded vaguely like Tatatatata. It had the same a sound as when he may or may not have said dada earlier that day, except with a T in place of the D. The baby was shaking Castiel's finger vigorously and trying to get his attention.

Once he had it, it was clear to the angel that Johnny was very looking between him and the firework.

Dean laughed loudly, and when he spoke, he sounded unbelievably proud of his son. "Screw Independence day. We've got two major milestones in one day," he said, looking down at his son, who was still looking up at Castiel with a grin. "No denying that one was a word."

Castiel would, actually, argue that "Tata" was not technically a word. Except that he realized it was his word. A hard C or K should would naturally be difficult for a child of Johnny's age, even though Castiel had been trying to work on the boy's verbal skills for the last two months, with a little angelic help, to compensate for how he had been deprived by his mother. They couldn't be sure that Johnny had tried to say Dada earlier, and they hadn't been able to replicate it.

"Who's this? Is this Tata?" Dean asked, poking Castiel in the shoulder. Both Sam and Emma had their attention focused on the boy, and in the distance, Balthazar and Metatron were watching with knowing and understanding smiles, respectively.

"Tata!" Johnny said, resting his head against the angel's arm for a snuggle.

"And who is this?" Castiel asked, pointing to Dean. Johnny looked at him, confused. It was as though he knew there was a word for this man, but he was unsure what it was. "Dada?" Castiel tried. Johnny didn't repeat it, but he buried his face into Dean's chest even as more fireworks set the sky aglow. He recognized the name belonged to Dean, and that was something.

Dean leaned down to kiss the top of his boy's head. When he rose back up and Johnny's attention was back on the purple lights skittering across the now-smoky sky, Castiel noticed tears in the man's eyes. "I am sorry that you were not his first word," Castiel said.

"Dude, these are not tears because I'm upset. I'm just damned proud of him. He's walking and now talking, and I'm just happy. It's the same reason you've got them in your eyes."

And Dean was right. He did.