Okay, I know this isn't a real one-shot, because I'm pretty sure a one-shot has to be one hundred words or less and I couldn't manage to stop at one hundred. This story, as I said in the summary, will follow the Winchesters through their lives, focusing on Dean and Sam, starting when Sam's turning one, Mary's death fresh in everyone's lives, and ending... well, I don't know when yet... I guess, it depends. If you have time, pretty please review and tell me what you think!

Year One: Birfday

Dean picked his little brother up with ease, a task almost impossible for such a little boy, unless, of course, that little boy has had as much practice as Dean has.

"Carefully, Dean." John said, watching nervously from the edge of his seat as Dean set little Sammy down on the table.


Sam clutched his finger and Dean held his arm behind himself as he turned to face his father so Sam didn't have to let go.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Mommy isn't going to be here for Sam's first birfday, is she?"

John put his head in his hands. "No, son, she isn't." He answered with a muffled voice.

Dean put Sam in his lap, holding the kid like a professional. "Well, doesn't she want to watch Sammy eat his birfday cake? Mommy likes birfday cake a lot."

"She does." Did, he thought.

Dean looked up at his dad. "Will Mommy come to Sammy's birfday next year?"

"No, son, she won't."

"Well, doesn't she want to come?" He kept his face serious as he glanced from Sam in his arms to his father, biting his lip in concentration.

"I'm sure she'd want to be here,"

"Do you want her to be here?"

"I do."

Dean thought for a moment, the kind of deep thinking young kids do over the simplest of things, though this was far from simple. His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why his mom wouldn't come even though she wanted to.

He stuck his thumb back in his mouth.

Dean finally shrugged and hopped up, handing Sam to his dad. "Okay," Dean skipped to the staircase that lead to the second floor of their apartment as if nothing had happened.

Sam whimpered. "Shhhh... Shhhh..." John rocked Sam as the little boy began to get teary eyed again.

John was just about to stand up when Dean popped his head around the corner. "Make sure Mommy gets an invitation. Maybe that's the problem."

"Good idea, Dean-o." Dean raced back up the stairs, his feet clomp-clomp-clomping on each step. Sam's chin began to quiver again, drawing John's attention back to his youngest son.

"Shhh..." He rocked Sammy slowly. Sam'd been doing this ever since Mary had died, the whole curious crying thing. So used to being kissed goodnight and good morning by his mother every day and then transitioning to her vanishing without a trace.

To Sam, the fire was just a vague nightmare, though it haunted John nightly. "She's not coming back..." John whispered to his son, soothing him not with the words he was speaking, but his calm, fatherly tone.

"She's not coming back and you, little Sammy, are going to have to get used to it if Daddy's ever going to get some sleep." Sam looked up at him with huge brown eyes, like a puppy dog.

John resented the time when Dean would be old enough to know the truth and understand that Mary was never coming back, invitation or no invitation. And Sam's "birfday cake" lay on the counter, a cheap discard from the local grocery store.

He remembered once when Mary wrote down a great guy for Sam's first birthday cake. Said it would be special, like baby books. A number on a sticky note that was lost in the fire with everything else.

"She's not coming back, and you're going to have to get used to it." Sam's eyelids began to droop sleepily. John swore the kid was nocturnal, the way he bawled his eyes out all night and slept all day. "We're all going to have to get used to it." He whispered.

That was a little on the depressing side, but trust me when I say these'll range from sad to sweet to funny! As I said, if you have time, review? It would make me happy to know what you're thinking! I'll add Sam's second year (And Dean's sixth!) as soon as possible! Hope you guys liked it! It only gets better as Sam gets older! (And more fun to write...)