Well this little thought put a lump in my throat and a bug in my brain the other day when I was playing with my niece and we were 'wishing wishes'.

I just had to write it.

The boys are little and the loss of Mary is still fresh in Dean's heart. Sam is there to give him hope.

Don't own them. I'd hug them forever if I did.

"Wish a wish, De!"

It's late July and the boys are playing in a field behind Bobby's house. Most of uncle Bobby's yard is covered in rusty cars, but there's this big patch of grass, way in the back that's still clinging to life. Bobby never gets around to mowing it, his mower is leaking oil and stalls out all the time anyway.

Dean's only 10 but he wants to fix it and mow the field for Bobby. He asked him, but Bobby just shrugged and said he'd get around to it himself one of these days.

But he doesn't, and it's an overgrown tangle of weeds and wildflowers.

It's a beautiful disaster though, thick stemmed Queen-Anne's Lace, Cornflowers and a few clustered Tiger Lillies mixed in with the Dock and Ragweed. There's butterflies come for the nectar and fat bumblebees here and there, their legs puffed up with pollen like yellow pantaloons. The grass comes up to Dean's knees and up to little Sammy's waist but they wade through it and stand in the sunshine.

Sam's holding the long stem of a dandelion gone to seed. He's a mess, shaggy hair sticking up in places, ripped jeans stained green at the knees, a bit of something stuck on his cheek and mouth, probably chocolate ice cream. Bobby spoils the kid with treats whenever they stay there. No one can resist spoiling Sam, he's like a little ray of big-eyed sunshine.

He's grinning now and looking up at Dean with hazel-green eyes that are so hopeful and innocent.

"Come on De! Wish a wish!"

"What should I wish?" Dean reaches for the dandelion but Sammy pulls back.

"Nooo! I blow on it, you just wish. You have to close your eyes and you CANNOT say it out loud or it won't come true. The nice lady told me that."

Dean's smiling and closing his eyes, following instructions, but his eyes flutter back open at that. "What lady?"

Sam blows on the dandelion, his chocolate stained mouth puckering as he whistles most of the air through his teeth. A few of the seeds detach and float off on the wind but Sam's better at making the sound than actually blowing out much air at this point.

He looks disappointed and throws the dandelion down.

He picks one that's got less seeds and shows it to Dean.

"This one's easier. You have to blow off all the fluffy stuff with one breath too, or the wish won't work."

Dean nods and asks again "What lady, Sammy?"

Sam looks up at Dean with confusion. "Oh you know her, De! She's really pretty and she knows you."

"Someone you met in the last town?" Dean persists.

"Whoa! Look! Look!" Sam points at a huge blue butterfly that's landed on a flower nearby. Still clutching the dandelion he walks slowly towards it, as stealthily as a 6 year old in oversized rubber boots can manage.

The butterfly sits, barely moving it's wings until the very moment Sam jumps for it, then it flies off.

Sam's little legs and feet get wrapped up in the tangled stems and weeds and he plummets forward onto his hands.

"Ow!" Sam screeches "Something stung me!"

Dean comes running over and crouches down beside Sam.

Sam's frantically rubbing at his arms and trying to find whatever is bothering him. "Ouch! Ouch! OUCH! It's still biting me! Dean, help!" Sam's on the verge of tears, smacking at his arms and flailing around.

"It's ok, Sammy, calm down! It's probably just a bee." Dean grabs Sam's little arms and looks them over but he doesn't see anything at first.

Then he sees a few, small, swollen bumps on Sam's wrists and forearms. They don't look like bee stings, there's too many in a row and they're smaller than a sting. The skin is red and irritated from Sam's rubbing.

"It hurts, Dean! What is it?!" He's trying not to cry, his little chest heaving, forgotten dandelion, crushed and mostly spent, still clutched in his sweaty right hand.

"I think I know." Dean looks around in the weeds for a few minutes and then finds the culprit. A spiky, green plant with angular leaves and sharp, hairlike projections all up and down the stem. "Yep. Itch weed." He proclaims.

Sam's eyes get huge and overflow at that, spilling tears down his flushed cheeks. "It's poisonous?" He whispers.

"You'll be fine, Sam! It hurts, I got it playing out here once, but it goes away. Here I'll show you what Bobby did when it happened to me." Dean reaches down and scoops his little brother up in his arms and carries him to the edge of the field.

Dean has no idea that Sam's probably getting too big for him to carry, doesn't notice how Sam's legs dangle almost to the ground. He holds him and they fit together perfectly, Sam tucks into Dean and clings to him and Dean barely feels the weight as he runs with him.

Sam's still crying a little and holding his stinging arms out straight, not touching them to Dean's back.

Dean sets him down in the yard. "I'll be right back, Sam."

He gets down on his hands and knees starts searching through the shorter grass, looking closely at the ground until he finds what he's looking for. It's a flat, oval-shaped leaf that grows low to the ground. He picks all the leaves off of the stem and rolls them up together, then he bites them up and down until they're mostly pulped and smashes it all up his hands. He spreads the juice of the leaves on the bumps on Sam's arms as expertly as a doctor and as gently as a mother.

"Better?" He asks Sam.

Sam nods in silence, looking at his arms pasted with juiced up leaves. The stinging pain has subsided to a dull ache and he sighs with relief.

Dean reaches up and wipes the tears off Sam's cheeks with his thumb, then musses his already messy hair.

"What did you do, Dean?" Sam squints.

"I made it better." Dean states simply.

Sam nods again, finding that statement to be the only explanation his six year old brain needs at the moment.

There's a pause and Dean tries once more to ask the question that's now burning on his mind. "What lady was it that told you about dandelion wishes?" He looks at Sam with an expression that's something like fear.

"Deeeann!" Sam drags Dean's name out into extra syllables "I already said, you know her."

"Sammy, I have no idea who you mean."

"She's the dream lady. She sings a lot and she smells really good and she's always in the garden with the butterflies."

Dean feels like someone's reached into him and yanked out his stomach. Like there's a cold, open hole where his guts should be. "What does she look like, Sammy?" He ask breathlessly.

"She's got blonde hair and freckles like you, Dean. And she asks about you a lot." Sam rubs at the juiced-up leaves on his arms, wiping away the green paste and touching the fading bumps. "This feels all better. Can we make a wish now?" He lifts up the worthless dandelion but stops when he sees the look on his big brother's face. "What's wrong, Dean? Did you get hurt by that plant too?"

Dean doesn't say anything because he can't, he bites his tongue hard but it doesn't stop the hot tears that suddenly track their way down his sunburned cheeks.

"Dean? Dean?! What's wrong?" Sam grabs him by the arm and shakes him but when Dean doesn't stop crying and doesn't say anything Sam gets up and starts looking around for more of the magic plant that made him better. "Here!" He grabs a handful of leaves when he finds the plant, ripping it out, roots and all, and carries the mess back to his big brother. "Here, Dean. It won't hurt if you do this. It really works. It's magic!"

Dean laughs but it's a tight, wet sound, more like a sob and he wraps his arms around his little Sammy. "Thanks, Sam." He mutters, drying his face on arm without letting go of him.

"Let's make that wish." He says after minute and Sam lets go, taking Dean's hand and pulls him back to the field.

He finds yet another dandelion, this one with a soft, even covering of fluff. "Ok! Now wish a wish!"

Dean closes his eyes and thinks of what he wants most, a guarded thought deep, deep down that twists at his heart and makes his throat tight all over again.

"Did you wish?" Sam asks. Dean squeezes Sam's tiny fingers that are still clinging to his own and nods.

"Ok!" He opens his eyes and watches Sam inhale and blow away every single seed with what's possibly the biggest breath his tiny lungs can muster. The little seeds scatter, floating up and away, towards the blue sky and the distant clouds, bound-up on a breeze that neither boy feels.

"Look, Dean! They're going to Wish City! The lady says that's where all the good wishes go."

"That's right, Sammy." And for the moment Dean really means it, he doesn't doubt it at all.

He looks down at his little brother, at those perfectly hopeful eyes, that expectant smile, and he thinks, with that much faith anything is possible.

Even unspoken wishes.

~end

I'm sure you all know what Dean wished for. Didn't get granted for a long time, and when it did I think maybe the phrase "be careful what you wish for" was pretty appropriate.

Hope you enjoyed my fluff bit of of Dandelion Fluff story.

Thanks, guys!