Dean never really knew what it was like to be loved by his dad, he always doubted it, actually. The older brother, the one who put up with everything, the one who tried to protect Sammy as far as he could... It still wasn't enough, but he tried.

If he did get married—which he doubted he would—he didn't want kids. Not 'cause he didn't like kids, quite the opposite, but he couldn't handle the thought. What if he was a bad dad? What if he treated his son like his dad treated him? What if he wasn't enough? What if, what if, what if...

He wouldn't have kids, he was sure of it—but, life had a way of putting one in his path, whether he wanted it or not. He wanted it, he just didn't know it yet.

It happened quickly—he met you during a time when he was kinda lost, needing something, needing a reason to keep going. The reason he needed was you, but besides you... Your son. That little boy might not be his blood son, but he was his, he didn't need to try hard to see that.

For the first time in his whole life, Dean felt like he belonged somewhere, with someone who loves him, with a family, with his family—and he thought he wouldn't get married, but he was already thinking about the vows he'd make to you.

He told you about himself, about who he was, about what he did and you didn't leave, you didn't even try, but you made him promise that he'd be there, always, If it wasn't just for you, then it'd be for your son. He'd be there, for you, and for the son he now saw as his own.

And, modesty aside, for a five-year-old boy, your son was a childish version of Dean, sure, but he was exactly like him. The way he spoke, the way he walked, even the way he made fun of you—he was like his step-dad, the step-dad he had learned to call his dad.

It wasn't the family Dean thought he'd have, but it was the family he couldn't be happier to have.

“I can't sleep.” You heard the low, childish voice at your bedroom door. Your son was standing right there, dressed in cute blue pajamas, rubbing his eyes. You said back then that he should learn to sleep alone, but it was still really hard to do that.

Dean shifted, sitting up in bed as he stared at the little boy leaning against the doorframe. “Come ’ere, big boy,” he said, patting the empty space on the bed between you and him.

As soon as your son came and lay down between you, he brought him closer, hugging him as he looked at you with a sweet smile on his face. “So, mommy... You've already heard all of my stories, what do you think about me tellin’ him one of them tonight?”