Welcome to the halfway mark!

January 24, 1995

Dean woke with a shock when something heavy landed next to him and turned his bed into an earthquake. Totally disoriented, he bolted upright, looking around wildly.

"Happy birthday, Dean!" Sam shouted right in his face, then returned to laughing and jumping on the bed like the little jerk he was.

"Jeez, Sammy! You trying to give me a heart attack?" Dean demanded once he figured out what the hell was happening.

"Nope, but I am trying to make you get your lazy butt out of bed for your birthday breakfast!" The little runt jumped off the bed and bolted down the hallway, shouting back to him, "Hurry up!"

"I hate you!" Dean shouted back before flopping down onto his pillow and pulling the covers up over his head.

"Up and at 'em, son. Don't want your food getting cold," Dad's voice came from the doorway.

"Fine," Dean groaned. Why did everyone else have to be morning people?

Dean dragged himself out of bed and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen, squinting into the bright light. When he was able to open his eyes properly, he blinked in surprise. There was a glittery pink banner strung from the ceiling that said "Happy Sweet Sixteen!"

"You gotta be kidding me," Dean whined.

Sam laughed like a lunatic and punched Dean in the arm. "Happy birthday! The decorations are from me!"

"Sit, Dean. Breakfast is ready," his dad said as he carried a skillet to the table and divided up the scrambled eggs onto three plates already mostly full with pancakes and bacon.

"You cooked?" Dean was stunned. Dad hardly ever cooked anything, and never made breakfast.

Dad stopped on his way to the sink and bumped Dean's shoulder with his own. "Hey. This is me trying to make up for all the crappy birthdays from before."

Dean dropped his eyes, so no one would see them glassy with tears. It had been a hard few years ever since the night Dad had dragged them away from the angel-warded trailer house. The night he'd hit Sammy. Things were way better now, but even though his dad had been sober for going on three years, it was hard for Dean to hear him talking like that.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Hurry up and sit, Dean. I'm hungry!" Sam urged. "We're gonna be late for school if you don't hurry."

"Oh, tragedy," Dean drawled, but he did sit down.

"Hold up – one more thing..." Dad said as he leaned over Dean's shoulder to stick a skinny pink birthday candle into his pancakes.

"It's a birthday pancake," Sam pointed out. "Get it? Like a birthday cake?"

"Yeah, I get it, Sammy," Dean assured him, smiling and shaking his head at his goofball brother.

As Dad lit the wick with his Zippo, Sam bellowed rather than sang the birthday song. He finished with a flourish. "And many morrre, on channel fourrrr! And Scooby-Dooooo on channel twooooooo! Make a wish, Dean!"

Two things immediately flashed through Dean's mind, the one thing nearly as impossible as the other. No matter how hard he wished, he couldn't have his mom or Gabriel back.

But maybe wishes were like prayers. If he wished to see Castiel again, would his friend hear it?

He made his wish, then opened his eyes and blew out the candle, but not before it had dribbled wax onto his pancakes.

They devoured their breakfast in record time, and as they were clearing the table, Dad said, "Go get yourselves dressed for school. You can have your present before we leave."

"There's a present, too?" Dean asked. All this fuss was kind of overwhelming.

"Go, Dean!" Sam insisted. "You're wasting time!"

"I'm going, I'm going."

When they were finally dressed with their school bags packed, Dad handed Dean a small wrapped box. Sam was practically dancing as he watched. Dean didn't know what he was so excited about. It wasn't like it was his birthday.

Dean pulled the ribbon from the box and tore off the paper. When he got the box itself open, he stared dumbly at the contents, not completely sure he understood what he was looking at.

"A key?" He looked up to his dad who was grinning at him expectantly.

He looked back down to the box. He knew this key. His mouth dropped open in shock, and he looked to his dad one more time for confirmation. Dad nodded, and Sam whooped in his excitement for him.

"Are you serious? Are you serious? She's mine? For real?"

"Yes, for real. The Impala's all yours now." Dad smiled down at him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know you'll take good care of her."

Tears filled Dean's eyes and his throat clogged up. It was embarrassing, but he couldn't help it. That his dad would trust him enough to give him the car he loved so much was kind of too much. He stepped forward and threw his arms around his dad.

"Thank you!" he said, voice muffled in Dad's overshirt.

Dad's arms came around him for the first hug he could remember getting in... well, forever. "You're welcome, Dean."

"And here's a present from me, too," Sam said. "I had to wait until after you got Dad's."

He handed Dean a floppy bundle done up with crumpled paper. Dean tore it open to find a package of chamois cloths.

He grinned at his little brother. "A shammy from Sammy. Thanks, dude." And in proper big brother fashion, after a quick hug, he socked Sam in the arm, maybe a little harder than he really needed to.

"Come on, boys. Pile into the pickup, and I'll drop you off at school. I took a half day today, so I'll pick you both up in the Impala right after school, and we can stop by the DMV. Once you've got your shiny new license in hand, Dean, you can drive us all home." Dad pulled both boys' coats from the hooks by the door and tossed them over.

Dean put on his coat and slung his school bag over one shoulder as he followed Sammy out the door with a smile. "Thanks, Dad. Best birthday ever."