Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.

Summary: John was always a good soldier, but rarely a good dad. Luckily for him, he had Dean to pick up the slack. John reflects back on five instances where Dean proved to be the better parent of the two of them.

Tag to Dead Man's Blood but no actual spoilers. A tiny bad word from Dean pops up in this chapter as well so fair warning!

The next memory that brushed John's mind came with a painful stab to his heart. He had been off on another hunt and had been so caught up in it, he failed to realize he had missed Sammy's tenth birthday.

This was by no means the first birthday for which he was absent, but his youngest had made him promise that he'd be home for the big double-digit day. It was three days later when he was finally heading back to his sons that he realized he had broken yet another promise to his kids. Sam was going to be pissed at him.

Attempting to find a suitable peace offering, he pulled into a no-name grocery store on his way back to the motel and bought a small cake. He knew it wouldn't be enough to earn Sam's forgiveness, but at least it was a step in the right direction.

Half an hour later, he parked in front of their motel room and gave the password of the week so Dean would open the door. The boy seemed tired but ultimately relieved that John had finally made it back.

"Hey, Dad. Everything go okay? You're later than we expected."

John sighed as he draped his coat over the closest chair. "I know, bud, and I'm sorry. Just took longer than I thought it would to find the damn thing. Where's Sammy?"

Dean jerked his head over his shoulder towards the closed bathroom door. "In the shower. I let him sleep in a bit today and we just got back about half an hour ago from runnin' drills."

His eldest son's hair was spiked up and wet so John knew Dean had taken his shower first, no doubt playing the big brother card that always made Sam roll his eyes but surrender non-the-less. "Did you leave him any hot water?"

"Enough," Dean grinned, then checked his watch. "He should be reappearing in about… two minutes." Then he caught sight of the cake in John's hands. "What's that?"

"Somethin' small I picked up for Sammy. Call it an apology." John frowned as Dean shifted a little uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. "What?"

"Nothin'. It's a great gesture, Dad, but uh… That kind of frosting makes Sammy sick."

John quirked an eyebrow. "You're kiddin' me, right? Since when?"

"Since always," Dean responded with a small shrug. "I learned that mistake a long time ago. Trust me, you don't want to see that cake a second time, half processed."

"That bad, huh?"

Dean shuddered slightly. "Worse. You wanna talk about a long night… Besides, he's given up sweets. One health class at school and he's reduced to eatin' rabbit food."

"Salads? Seriously? One of my boys?"

"I know, right? That kid goes through the weirdest phases. There was one time where he would only eat gummy bears of all things. They gave him gummy tummy though so that phase thankfully didn't last long. I give him a week at most before he's back to burgers and steak."

"I take it we're not goin' out for birthday burgers tonight then?"

"Where there're burgers, there're salads so he'll be happy. Give me a hunk of cow over carrot sticks any day. I swear, there's no way we're related. I keep tryin' to tell him he's the milk man's kid but he just won't listen to me…"

"Dean…" John reprimanded though he couldn't keep the smirk off his face. He missed the light-hearted banter over the past two weeks. He had been on a solo hunt and the only interactions he had during that time were interviews for the case. Considering those tended to be with the victim's surviving relatives, they were far from cheerful conversations.

With a big grin on his face, Dean checked his watch again, then held up three fingers. "And three… Two… One…"

"DEAN! YOU JERK!" Sam shouted from the bathroom, desperately scrambling to shut off the now freezing water.

"Problem, Sammy?" Dean called back, feigning ignorance. He turned back to his father. "Told ya. Two minutes. Works every time."

John shook his head at his eldest's antics but Dean appeared to be unabashed.

"What? I already let him sleep in. If I gave him first shower, he'd start to think I was a saint or somethin'."

"Or somethin'," John chuckled.

"Anyway, he should be comin' out here soon to bitch at me so you might wanna hide that cake before we all pay for it."

The humor slowly left John's eyes as he glanced down at the small attempt at being a father that was clutched in his hands. "I just wanted to get him somethin' special, but looks like I can't even do that right."

"Don't worry about it, Dad. You did get him somethin' special. In fact, you got him a book he's been dyin' to read for months now."

John stared at his eldest in confusion. "Book? I didn't buy him any book…"

Dean raised his eyebrows and waited for his father to connect the dots. Dean had actually bought the book for Sammy but put John's name on it instead. "Trust me, there's no quicker way to Geek Boy's heart than the smell of a book hot off the presses. He'll forgive you, if he hasn't already."

"I…" John was flustered, words completely failing him. It never crossed his mind to buy his youngest a book, and right now, that seemed pretty absurd considering he knew how much Sammy loved to read.

Come to think of it, John did have a vague recollection of Sam blabbering on and on about some book before John had left for the hunt. He couldn't for the life of him remember any of the details, but it was clear the kid really wanted it. With everything he had going on though, a book was the least of John's concerns at the time. Thankfully, someone else had been paying closer attention. "Thank you, Dean."

Dean nodded back and took the cake from John. "You can thank me by splittin' this with me after the runt falls asleep tonight."

He waggled his eyebrows at John, earning a genuine laugh from his father, and tucked the bakery item up in one of the highest cabinets above the sink where Sam would never accidentally come across it.

When Sam came out of the bathroom in a huff, John winced, bracing himself for hurricane Sammy. His youngest paused in the doorway, looking at his father in surprise. Apparently he hadn't heard him arrive. "Dad?"

"Hey, kiddo. I uh… I'm sorry I didn't make it home in time for your birthday. I know I promised, but I just couldn't…"

He flinched back half a step as Sam strode over to him, preparing for the fight he was sure his youngest was about to start. But his eyes widened in shock when Sam threw his arms around his father's waist instead.

Glancing over at Dean as if to ask if this was really happening or not, his eldest simply smiled and winked back in return. God, he loved that kid.

'I didn't think you'd remember," Sam admitted softly from somewhere around John's navel. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Dad."

John's throat tightened and he had to blink a few times to clear the sudden moisture from his eyes. He didn't deserve his son's apology and he knew it. His mouth having gone completely dry, all he could do was nod his acceptance.

"It's the best present you've ever gotten me." Sam broke free and glanced up into his father's eyes. "I love you, Dad."

John pulled Sam in for another, much tighter, hug as the tears began to glide down his stubbled cheeks. "I love you too, son," he ground out past his aching vocal cords. He didn't want to let the boy go, ever. It was a rarity that such affection was ever shown in the Winchester family and John wanted to soak up every minute of it.

Dean leaned against the kitchen wall with his hands in his pockets, watching the emotional scene with pride in his heart. This was the way he always wanted his father and brother to be. This was worth every dish he had to scrub in that grubby restaurant down the street while Sam was at school.

John hadn't left the boys enough money for the extra days he had been gone, so Dean took it upon himself to flash his fake sixteen-year-old ID and raise enough cash to buy that rather expensive book for his brother.

He never intended on taking the credit for it though. This. This right here was all he ever wished for in return. When Dean first handed the book to Sam, he was afraid the kid would see right through his little white lie, just like he had on his eighth Christmas back in '91. Then again, maybe Sammy just wanted to believe in his father so desperately that he was willing to overlook the small discrepancies in his brother's spun story.

John did take them out for supper as promised and the time passed pleasantly enough. Sam bragged about the A plus he got in English and John did a brief reenactment of his hunt for Dean who was completely engrossed in the tale. John was even able to buy a slice of pie that the boys shared for dessert. Dean was right. Sammy's no sugar phase clearly wasn't going to last long.

Later that night while John and Dean were discussing the next hunt at the kitchen table, Sam fell asleep sitting up against the headboard of their bed, his new book resting on his chest. Dean glanced over when it had taken too long to hear the next page being flipped and smiled at his little brother.

"He do that often?" John asked, careful to keep his voice low.

"Only ever night," Dean smirked as he rose gracefully from his seat and crept over to their shared bed. He eased the book off of his brother, placed Sam's bookmark inside so he didn't lose his page, and set the prized possession on the nightstand within reaching distance.

Not wanting to risk waking Sam by pulling him down into a lying position, Dean simply raised the kid's head gently and, taking his own pillow from the other side of the bed, slid it behind his brother so Sam wouldn't crick his neck during the night.

"Night, Sammy," he whispered to the slumbering boy.

He brushed Sam's unruly bangs away from his eyes and made sure he was comfortable and sleeping peacefully before turning off the bedside lamp and making his way back to the kitchen table.

John watched in silence as his son worked fluidly, clearly having gotten used to this routine a long time ago. When had his little boy become such a man?

"You're good with him, you know," he stated softly when Dean sat back down next to him.

Dean shrugged off the compliment. "Eh, he makes it pretty easy. Usually…" he added, having to get that little jibe out there. "So. Ready to test out that cake?"

John smirked. "Thought you'd never ask."

TBC

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