AN: Well...this is for...DEAN WINCHESTER! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! WOOO! Sorry, just I dunno, I mean he's Dean! He's pure awesomeness with a bow on top! Anyways, I wrote this around two years ago on my birthday cause I was feeling sad, so this isn't a happy birthday story it's angsty cause I was angsty. This is un-beta'd.

POWER OF A BIRTHDAY WISH

Dean is 23 years old spending his birthday...

Amongst friends like Bobby, Jim, Caleb and other hunters including his father John Winchester. It's his first birthday without Sam and he knows that this party is to keep his mind off that specific fact. It's the first proper birthday party that's he's had in years. Bobby's house is decorated with streamers and balloons and there's a barbecue running outside. The clinking of beer bottle and well wishes continually greet his ears as he is pulled from one person to the next all wanting to talk to him, to mark this special occasion.

Finally Caleb announces that it's time to open presents, much to the dissatisfaction of Bobby who believes that presents should always follow the cake. Bobby's protests fall on deaf ears however, when Dean hollers excitedly about getting tickets to a baseball game. Once Dean scatters the wrapping paper on the floor after opening all that was meant for him, he is led outside where an enormous cake lays quietly in wait.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" They all yell at him. Dean grins and prepares to cut into the cake but John grabs his hand. He gives his father a pleading look while John can only smile, for once feeling relaxed and like a father instead of a hunter.

Dean looks slightly crestfallen as John tells him to wait. "We need to sing son," he explains as he places his arm around Dean's shoulder and begins off the round of 'Happy Birthday.'

"Happy birthday to you..."
"Happy birthday to you..."
"Happy birthday dear De-an"
"Happy birthday to you!"

Everyone claps and hoots. Bobby yells over the din with his loud voice. "Hip-hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Hip-hip!" He yells again.

"Hooray!" They all cry out. Most of them are clapping and pumping their fists into the air.

"Hip-hip!" For one last time Bobby yells.

"Hooray!" They all yell louder than before, including whistles, cries and wishes of "Happy Birthday Dean" and "Have a good day."

John lets go of Dean's hand. "Now...you can cut the cake." He makes for the knife but is stopped again by John. "Wait...make a wish first son."

"Dad, c'mon!" he whines impatiently. At first he hesitates, unsure of what to wish for. He surveys the expectant eyes of the hunters who had gathered to celebrate this joyful...yet somehow empty occasion. Everyone he cares about is in this garden, everyone except Sammy. He closes his eyes and imagines Sam standing next to his father.

I wish that Sammy is ok and safe. He blows out the candle and opens his eyes smiling and finally cutting into the cake. For some unknown reason he grabs the middle candle that was towered over the other candles and saves it in his pocket.

?_?

Dean is 24 years old spending his birthday...

With John and Bobby, in a small log cabin out in the middle of the forest. He's been banged up pretty bad with a claw mark down the length of his torso. Bobby has a concussion and John has a broken leg.

"Wake up Bobby," John says in concern. He looks over to Dean who has his arm placed over his eyes. "Dean?"

He flings his arm off and stares at John startled. "Yes Sir?"

John looks at Dean's torso and the bloody rags that litter the ground."Just checking."

"John, get lost," Bobby moans looking at Dean. "Happy Birthday."

Dean laughs bitterly, "Yeah, thanks Bobby."

"There's a cake for you...you know...for you birthday." The concussion, although mild, has done enough damage to momentarily disrupt the older hunter's path of thinking.

"C'mon, I don't need to do this." Dean says. Secretly, he's happy that they remembered this small fact. Bobby stumbles away from John's grasp and makes to the fridge where a medium sized cake lies in a white cardboard box. John manages to drag a chair next to the couch where Dean struggles to get up.

Dean makes them forgo the singing as their voices are dry and no one has the energy to carry a tune. Bobby flips open the lid and sets the cake on the palm of his hand. "I'm sorry, don't got any candles."

About to cut the cake, Dean suddenly remembers the candle from his last birthday. "Dad, where's my jacket?" Surprised John looks around until he finally eyes his son's beaten and bloodied jacket. "There's and extra pocket, it's stupid, but let's just say the candles for luck. Makes sure that I make it through another year," he explains, pulling out the old candle. It's blue and red; the tip is blackened with ash.

"Surprise, surprise," Bobby mutters, sticking it into the centre of the cake. "Make a wish." Bobby flicks out a lighter and sets the candle on fire. John watches his son's face contort in pain as he leans in to blow out the candle. He helps Dean up a little more patting his shoulder, pretty much the only place that isn't covered in an ugly dark bruise.

I wish that Sammy called. Like that Dean blows, and the flame is quickly extinguished. He grabs the candle again, offering his two onlookers a sheepish smile. "What are you waiting for? Let's eats some cake!"

?_?

Dean is 25 years old spending his birthday...

In bed, sporting a headache and finding a blond lying in the space next to him. The woman's name is...he's not exactly sure what her name is; only that she wears too much make up and squeaks when she talks. Her arm is draped around his body and her hair is in a golden mess across the pillow. He blinks, once, twice; dancing spots of rainbow colours playing games in front of his eyes.

His clothes are scattered on the floor of the room. Pictures of the woman and numerous others adorn the white wash walls. Some consist of just her while others hold the picture of two people. Her...and a man. Groggily, Dean turns his head to the side and zooms in on a photo sitting on the bedside table. The man is dressed in a tuxedo. Black hair shining back with gel to hold it in place, a pale blue tie and shirt continues the look. Next to him...the blonde, dressed in a...wedding dress? Dean's eyes widen.

"Shit," he whispers. The blonde stirs moving her hand out from under the pillow. A diamond ring, the size of an iceberg sits comfortably on her long delicate finger.

Disgusted with himself, he gingerly removes himself from the bed. Grabbing his clothes he quickly gets dressed patting down his pockets trying in vain to locate his keys. Tripping on his feet in confusion he finally makes it to the kitchen. A bottle of aspirin placed on the bench top beckons for him to come over and he graciously submits. He dry swallows three just to make the pounding in his head go away.

Keys...need keys. He walks briskly to the living room and spots the keys lying on the floor in front of the TV set. Finally he can leave. Sounds of thunder vibrate though the air and Dean looks down at his stomach. May as well. He goes back into the kitchen and raids the fridge. Settling on a blueberry fat free muffin he takes it out and puts it down on the table staring intently at it. Today there's no dad. His cell phone rings and instantly he brings it to his ear. "Happy Birthday Dean," the voice on the end says gruffly.

"Thanks Bobby." Not in the mood to talk any more he ends the call and sighs. The candle is shorter now and wax has created an unsymmetrical shape. It looks ugly to Dean and he has no idea why he hasn't tossed it out yet. Angrily he sticks it in the muffin and lights it.

I wish that Sammy came for a visit. Again the flame vanishes leaving Dean to breathe in the smoke. "Happy freaking Birthday to me," he mutters sarcastically.

?_?

Dean is 26 years old spending his birthday...

In the back seat of this Impala. It's cold, so cold the frost has covered the windshield and when Dean breathes out, he can actually see the ice roll out of his mouth like a dragon breathing out smoke. He doesn't have enough money for a room, credit cards; maxed out and the stretch of road that he's been on has led him to meeting no one, anywhere. As far as he's concerned, civilisation forgot about this downtrodden part of the States.

He hasn't seen his dad in over 3 months, coordinates being the only way of communication between the two Winchesters. Last he heard, the old man was in New York. Stupid place to hunt in his opinion, too overpopulated to get away with anything and far too dangerous not to get into trouble.

Tonight he's alone, except for his baby of course. Unfortunately she's decided to throw a tantrum at being expected to drive out in the cold and has consequently seized to get the heater running. She'll kick start it soon enough, but at the moment she's being a drama queen and this is the one time where Dean wishes he never pissed anyone off, especially her.

Pulling the blanket closer around him, he flicks open his lighter and fishes into the back pocket of his brown old leather jacket that has yet to fail him in the cold. Finally he locates the lone candle that has been his only constant in his sorry excuse for a birthday. He doesn't say anything as he lights the candle and closes his eyes.

What he's about to ask sounds selfish enough, but this is what he's been afraid of, all his life. Waking up one day finding that's he's been left alone. Cut off from anything and anyone he cares about, not because he pushed them away. But because they felt like they didn't need him any more.

I don't care how you do it. I don't care what it takes. I wish that Sammy came back. He blows out the candle watching the wisp of the smoke disappear into the darkness of the car. Lastly before going to sleep, he adds, "I wish he came back for good."

Eleven months later his last wish finally came true...

(EPILOGUE)

Dean is 27 years old spending his birthday...

With his baby brother, Sam lying on the bed, eating dinner and watching the Road Runner beat Wylie E Coyote's attempts at catching him. Dean sits at the table surfing the net looking for hunts and just stupid silly facts to pass the time, or thinking of ways to prank Sam and drive him up the wall.

"I nearly forgot," Sam says, putting down his dinner and going to the small kitchenette.

"So sentimental!" Dean quips watching his brother pull out a chocolate cake and a packet of candles.

"Happy Birthday bro." Sam rips open the packet and looks at Dean. "Do you want me to light all of them? I might cause the smoke alarm to go off," he jokes.

"Hardy-ha-ha," Dean replies dead-panned. He finds his little candle and places it in the middle. Sam cocks an eyebrow debating on whether to ask or not, but decides against it.

"I hope all your wishes come true man," he says through a dimpled smile.

Dean's face falls as Sam begins to light the multitude of candles. His brown eyes shine as he takes in his brother's face and Dean picks up his own expression, plastering on a fake grin. Sam continues to smile. Happiness practically radiates off you, doesn't it Sasquatch?

"Make a wish." Sam reminds him. Dean can't help but laugh "What?" Sam asks innocently. He's got that childlike glee written all over his face and it's a wonder that his face doesn't break into two with the amount of smiling he does.

"Sammy, I don't have to," Dean tries.

Sam comes and sits down beside him. Nudging Dean's shoulder, gently he speaks: "Nothing bad ever happens in a birthday wish."

The statement causes Dean to look at his brother. If only you knew...

AN: I didn't know where to end it so I added an epilogue. Hope you enjoy and leave reviews.