Disclaimer: This is a transformative work of fiction based on the original masterpiece by E. Kripke. Just for fun, not for profit.

A/N: This is, of course, in honor of Dean's birthday. I warn you it was written in haste, when I should have been doing about 3 other projects, including an academic article that is supposed to go to press by next week and my PhD application...

A/N: Spoilers for S6 in the last section. First section is teenchesters – Dean 18/19 so Sammy 14...

Dean woke up with a headache, which didn't surprise him because he'd gone to sleep with one. He groaned and buried his head further in his pillow. Finally, giving in to the inevitable, he rolled over and looked at his brother's empty bed. At least the covers were messed up enough for Dean to have evidence that Sam had, in fact, gone to bed, because otherwise the commotion coming from the kitchen would have convinced him that Sam and their Dad were having the same argument as when he went to sleep.

They were still going at it when Dean walked into the kitchen. Both his family members glanced at him without actually acknowledging him. Dean grabbed a glass of juice, downing it quickly. He wasn't really interested in what they were butting heads about now, but it seemed Sam was still stuck on something or other that John hadn't told them or done or whatever. John was stuck on Sam not respecting him or not knowing everything or whatever. Same old, same old.

"Going for a run," Dean said as he left the kitchen. He wasn't surprised when he got no response.

The cold January air bit at his lungs even as the steady beat of his shoes hitting pavement helped him maintain his equilibrium. He blamed the watering of his eyes on the chill in the wind. Virginia wasn't Minnesota in winter, but it was still cool enough to allow the excuse. It was just one stupid day.

By the time Dean got back, the combatants had retreated to separate corners of the house. Sam to do homework, and John to finish the research for the hunt that night.

Sighing, Dean showered, changed – amid much muttering about 'trying to study' – and retreated to the kitchen to spend the day cleaning as many weapons as he could find. The last thing Dean clearly remembered was getting into the Impala later that night...

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

"Mr. Winters?" John had already been halfway to his feet when the doctor had pushed through the swinging doors. Sam crowded behind him as he stepped in front of the ER doctor.

"How's my son?"

"He appears to be a fairly lucky young man," the doctor smiled reassuringly. "We are a bit concerned that he still seems disoriented and agitated from the blow he suffered to his head. We believe it's only a mild concussion though. He needed 30 stitches to close the gash on his arm and he has two cracked ribs, but there appears to be no internal bleeding and no breaks."

"That's good," John let out the breath he'd been holding. "Can we see him? It might help with the disorientation and agitation."

"Certainly. I'm sure you're right, he's been asking after both you and your other son. He doesn't want to take our word for it that you're alright. We're just getting him settled in a room. I want to keep him for observation overnight to make sure the head wound isn't worse than we've so far determined. You may find he is a bit more emotional than normal because of it, and he's been quite nauseous. Unfortunately, because of the head trauma, we have had to restrict the pain meds, so he is somewhat uncomfortable. We'll be able to increase those tomorrow based on how he progresses."

"Will he be able to go home in the morning?" John asked. "And is it ok if I stay with him overnight? I'm worried that he won't settle down if he's left here alone."

"That might be helpful. He has seemed a bit agitated. He was quite concerned that you and his brother weren't injured; we had to reassure him repeatedly. I'll arrange for you to be able to stay, and we'll just call it a late birthday present."

"I'm sorry?" John looked puzzled.

"Dean's birthday. It was today, right? I'm sure that's what your insurance information said?"

"Oh. Yes. Right. I'd completely forgotten with the accident and so forth," John stammered.

The doctor gave John an odd look before telling him he'd send a nurse to take them to Dean's room.

As soon as the doctor moved away, Sam grabbed his father's arm.

"Oh my God! How could we have been so caught up in ourselves that we forgot what day it was?" Sam's face was a study in anguish and John's was a mirror image.

"We'll just have to make it up to him," John said.

"He would never have forgotten ours."

"I know, Sam."

"You have to make this right."

"How is this suddenly all on me?" John's face tightened.

"You're supposed to be the "Dad," remember?" Sam retorted.

"I never forget that Sam," John growled. "I'll be staying the night. I'll get you a cab home."

"I'm not going! If you stay, I stay."

"You'll do as I say."

"Dean will just worry all night if you don't let me stay."

"This is not up for discussion."

"Nothing ever is, is it?"

"I'm your father. That's how it works."
"A father shouldn't forget his own kid's birthday," Sam saw that one hit home.

"A brother shouldn't forget, either," John watched his own salvo hit its target.

Sam was about to snap back when he realized that it was within his own power to give Dean a present he'd truly appreciate.

"You're right. It was both of our faults. Let's not fight. It's what Dean is always harping on us not to do. I'm betting us fighting is only going to make his head hurt worse."

John opened his mouth to return fire, but closed it again thoughtfully when what Sam said sank in.

"Deal, Sammy. No more fighting. At least not until Dean's in the clear. And you're right – you should stay. Dean'll never settle otherwise."

The nurse appeared at that moment to take them to Dean's room.

"Excuse me, but is the gift shop still open?" Sam asked.

"Yes. I think so," the nurse replied checking her watch. "I think they stay open most of the night."

"Dad? Can you give me some money, and I'll meet you up in Dean's room?"

John dug out his wallet, realizing what Sam was up to.

"Great idea, Sammy," John smiled and handed over some cash.

"He's in room 3014," the nurse supplied.

Dean was curled on his side with a basin sitting on the bed in front of him. His eyes were closed and John hoped for a moment that he'd found relief in sleep. His face was the still the grey side of pale with a sheen of sweat covering it, even while he shivered slightly under the blanket covering him.

Hearing the footsteps enter his room, Dean cracked one bloodshot eye. Seeing only his father enter the room, both eyes flew open, and he attempted to sit up. Between his head, the cracked ribs and the nausea, he didn't make it and ended up mostly flopping in place and groaning, but his eyes remained panicked.

"Where's Sammy? They said you were both ok? What's wrong?"

John strode quickly to the bed, gently trying to both reassure Dean and keep him prone on the bed.

"He's fine. I promise. They didn't lie; he's just running a quick errand. He'll be right here. Take it easy, kiddo; you gave us a bit of a scare." John ran a hand gently over his eldest's head.

"Sure?" Dean whispered, panting slightly to keep his stomach from rebelling again.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Dean lost the battle and retched helplessly into the basin while John held it and tried to comfort him by rubbing circles on his back. Dean groaned as the spasm passed, holding his aching ribs with his good arm. He turned his head into his pillow in an attempt to keep his father from seeing the mutinous tears that were leaking out of his tightly closed eyes. He wasn't a kid anymore and he was mortified that he couldn't stop the tears that suddenly wanted to turn into full on sobs.

"It's ok, kiddo." John soothed. He gently stroked Dean's close cropped hair, being careful to avoid the goose egg near his hairline that was spreading a purple bruise down the side of his face and giving him a spectacular black eye. Slowly, the sobs stopped and even his breathing evened out. John thought his colour even improved a little bit.

Sam arrived just as John thought Dean was about to slip into sleep and he had to bite back a sharp remark when the sound of Sam's arrival had Dean struggling to move again, this time making it up on his good elbow. John realized that Dean would have had the same reaction if Sam had been completely silent. He sighed, even as he kept a restraining hand gently on him.

"Sammy," Dean croaked, "You okay?"

"Jeez, Dean... I'm not the one in the hospital bed!" Sam rolled his eyes.

"Where were you?" Dean relaxed back into the bed as he finally had the visual evidence – however blurry – that his brother really was okay.

"I had an important errand to run," Sam said bringing his hands out from behind his back.

Dean's eyes widened and he had to fight back tears again. Neither John nor Sam let on they noticed.

"Happy Birthday, Dean," they said together. Sam held out a car magazine, a card, and a stuffed teddy bear. It wasn't much, but it was all the gift shop had.

"We have proper presents back at the apartment, but we didn't want you not to have anything on your birthday," John lied, knowing they'd have some time before Dean came home to make a fact of the lie. Sam for once was happily complicit in his father's lie.

"Well," Dean cleared his throat, still struggling to keep his emotions in check, "technically it was yesterday..."

"Hey!" Sam protested, "It's not our fault you slept through half of it!"

Dean reached out and grasped the offered presents, spreading them out on the bed in front of himself.

"I'll have to look at these later," Dean said squinting at the magazine and card, trying to focus enough to make any sense of the words. It just made his head pound harder. "A teddy bear, dude? I'm not a chick..."

"At least I got you one without a rattle in it," Sam teased back. "Oh! I almost forgot!" Sam stepped back out into the hall and came back in with his final treasure. A big piece of apple pie with a candle stuck in it.

Dean grinned even as his face paled and he swallowed convulsively.

"I really appreciate the gesture, but I am so not doing food right now," Dean closed his eyes and let his head fall back as he struggled once more to keep his stomach in check.

"Oh. Right. I didn't think," Sam apologized. "I'll just set it on the table, and you can have it when you feel better."

John could see the effect the pie was having on Dean and he'd had enough concussions himself to know that the nausea accompanying them was often worsened just by smells. Ordinarily, nothing could keep Dean away from pie, but in this instance, Dean was starting to sweat again.

"Sam, I think you should take it back out in the hall," John suggested.

Sam was about to bristle at the implied rebuke when he followed his father's gaze to his brother's pained face. He could also see Dean tense up for the expected start to the inevitable fight.

"Sure, Dad. Sorry, Dean. I just didn't think," Sam said quietly and removed the offending pie. Dean's eyes widened slightly and he forgot all about his nausea for a moment at his brother's easy compliance with their father's request.

"Try to get some rest, Dean. Sam and I have permission to sit with you overnight."

"Ok. Think I could sleep now," Dean's voice was already drifting off. He was comforted by the presence of his family. He wasn't an idiot. He didn't remember the hunt, but he remembered enough of the day to know that neither his dad nor his brother had remembered his birthday. But they were trying to make it up to him and the cessation of hostilities was the best present they could have gotten him. He was determined to enjoy it for as long as it lasted... if only he could stay awake. At least they were together, and that was really what Dean had wanted for his birthday.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Dean woke up with a headache. He groaned and buried his head further in his pillow. Finally, giving in to the inevitable, he rolled over and looked at his brother's empty bed.

Dean followed the voices downstairs. As he got closer to the kitchen, he could smell bacon and coffee.

"Well. There he is. The birthday boy!" Bobby boomed.

"Shut up," Dean responded, but couldn't suppress the small smile that went with the comment as he rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. He moved to sit at the table and Sam set a mug of coffee in front of him.

"Happy birthday, Dean," Sam smiled.

"Thanks," Dean said taking the coffee and letting the word suffice for both gifts.

Dean's phone rang in his pocket. Digging it out, he looked at the display and swallowed.

"Are you gonna answer that? Cuz I'm off duty today," Bobby prodded.

"Yeah... just..." Dean got up and walked into the other room, pressing answer.

"Hey," Dean said softly.

"Hi, Dean! Happy birthday!" Ben's voice came across the line.

"Hey, dude! Thanks. It's good to hear your voice. How are things? Are you behaving?" Dean's smile just about split his face.

"Yeah. Well, mostly behaving. Um... Mom said to say happy birthday for her too..."