Author's note: Here's a one shot I thought of when my little brother came home from school with some homemade valentine's day cards. Dean is in the fourth grade and is asked to make a card for his mother.

A Winchester's Valentines Day!

Mrs. Harper had been teaching fourth grade for nearly fifty years. So when the school bell rang signaling the end of the long school day, relief quickly overcame her as she yelled out the last of the homework assignments. She sat down in the old wooden chair watching as one by one the children ran out the door to their awaiting parent or bus. Soon the classroom was empty leaving her alone for the first time in what seemed like days. She sighed, as she forced herself up again, her joints aching as she slowly made her way down the rows of desks, pushing in chairs and picking up the day's schoolwork left on each students' desk.

The assignment was simple, make a card for your mother for Valentines Day, and despite the groans she heard by the boys who were at an age where they thought it was a stupid holiday, she had hoped they would at least give it a shot. But it seemed most had simply chosen not to do it. It made her sad to see the way children were becoming, spoiled brats. What little respect they had for their poor mothers! She thought as she came to the last desk.

Dean Winchester, the new trouble maker, barely here a week and he already had a special place at the principles office. Mrs. Harper was not one to judge but she knew he was trouble the second she saw him walk through her door his father trailing behind. John Winchester was what she called a distant father, as he was never around at parent-teacher night or cared enough to walk his child home. Dean was certainly an odd one. She would watch him sometimes when the other children were playing, he simply sat staring out into space. And during lessons it was next to impossible to get him to interact with the group. So when she went to pick up his assignment she was pleasantly surprised to find it done at all, but shocked to find it to be the best one of all of them. There laying neatly was a beautiful pick card with silver sprinkles all over it so that it shone in the fading light. "My word!" She gasped carefully picking it up and looking it over. It was beautiful. "Winchester did this?" She had been watching him all morning hoping to catch him in the act before another one of his pranks came about, but she hadn't noticed until now how quiet he had been. Curiosity overtook and she carefully opened up the card and what she saw made her jaw drop. Inside was a neatly written poem.

A Mother is a person,

Who is patient night and day.

A Mother is a person,

Who knows just what to say.

A Mother is a person,

Who loves with out a doubt.

A Mother is a person,

Who know just what to do.

A mother is a person who was just like you.

Sammy and I love you,

Dean.

The poem had brought tears to her eyes, who would have ever guessed it. She knew now she would see him in a whole new light. He had lost his mothering a tragic accident the principle had said when he first arrived. She quickly added it to the pile and left the room. She would give him a second chance she decided knowing she'd probably regret it later. If Dean was anything like her own son he would give her hell and any other teacher he came in contact with, she felt a smile spreading across her face.

The end