It was mentioned in the car. Dean spoke so casually that it was only by chance I heard it in the first place. Normally on these long drives to our destination, I watched the scenery fly by the window tuning out Dean's singing from the same three albums. I guess that's why my attention was stolen from the flatlands of Nebraska. Dean turned down the music just a bit. He turned toward Sam in that way he did that was terrifyingly negligent of the road and said;
"Happy birthday, little brother."
"Thanks man."
They exchanged a smile, then Sam looked out the window again and Dean refocused on driving. The moment had passed and I couldn't comment any longer, but I was swamped with a nervous energy. I spent the thirty miles to the next gas station fidgeting and casting glances at the boys. When we stopped to refuel, Sam jumped out of the car to get road food, but I grabbed the back of Dean's jacket before he could get out and caused him to fall back into the car.
"You better have a good reason for that or I swear-"
I interrupted his insincere threat, "It's Sam's birthday?"
Dean, still ruffled from my maneuver, nodded with exasperation. "Yeah? So?"
"Shouldn't we… I don't know, get him a cake or something?" I finally let go of the back of his collar.
He sat up and turned on the bench seat to look at me. He studied me for a moment then looked through the glass windows of the convenience store where Sam read the nutrient label of a granola bar.
"We don't really celebrate birthdays." He glanced back at me.
"Oh," I looked down at my lap, the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Me neither, but I also never had the opportunity to do something for someone else's birthday before."
I felt disappointed. The idea of my first birthday party (even if it wasn't my own) had been swimming in my head for the last half hour.
"Maybe we should do something." Dean spoke to himself looking toward his brother again who was reviewing a bunch of bananas meticulously. He turned back to me and whispered conspiratorially, "Okay, here's the plan…"
~...~
Preparations were complete. Dean and Sam suited up and spoke to the local cops leaving me to "check out the local myths," at least that was our cover story. In reality, I spent the better part of two hours convincing the nearest bakery to make a cake on short notice and picking out streamers to match the icing. When two hours had passed I had the streamers wrapped around the motel room crossing through the middle a dozen times, because I had gotten way too much and it was a surprisingly fun task. That's when Dean sent me a quick text letting me know they were checking one more thing out before they would come back. I ran to the store grabbing beer and five different kinds of chips, then went to the Hallmark section. I stared at the greeting cards for long minutes, paralyzed by the sheer army of paper sentiment. The cheerful folds of paper stared back. I had no idea there such a variety of cards existed. Blank ones, friendly ones, funny ones… I tentatively picked up one.
Happy Birthday! May your special day be filled with happiness!
Blah. I picked up another.
On your special day… May you be blessed with much happiness and prayer.
Absolutely not.
I shifted on my feet. Clearly pick and choose was amatuer stuff. I scanned the cards again. A shiny one piqued my interest. I picked it up. It was blank inside. I was considering my options when my phone vibrated. Dean and Sam were on their way back. I took the card, grabbed ice, and checked out. I barely wrote the finishing touches on the card when the Impala cut it's engine in the front. I hit the lights and ducked behind the chair in the kitchenette area.
"It's so nice to be back at the motel." Dean's voice called out, no doubt trying to warn me they were outside. "Isn't it nice to be back Sam?"
"Uh… yeah. Dean. Sure it is."
The door knob wiggled and the keys jingles.
"I'm just saying…" Dean still spoke with a raised voice. "It's been a long day. So, it's good that we're back. Now."
"Okay," I could see Sam shaking his head in my mind's eye. "No more..."
The door swung open, Dean walked in and moved to let Sam through. My heart slammed in my chest. Sam flicked the switch and I yanked the strings of five party poppers at once. Tiny streams of confetti fluttered through the air cascading down on Sam. Instinctively, he had drawn his gun and was holding it readily.
"Surprise!" I announced.
Sam stood there stunned. His mouth hung open as he took in the motel room.
"Um, please don't shoot me." I finally broke the silence after a thirty solid seconds of silence.
Dean clapped Sam's shoulder. "Stop spacing out, Sammy! There's cake!"
"Wha-" Sam finally moved still looking around in amazement. "What's all this?"
"What do you think?" Dean grinned. "A birthday party, what else?"
Sam walked further into the room. He took in the massive amounts of streamers lacing around the furniture, under pillows, and lamps. From the little he could see, streamers were used heavily in the bathroom as well. He turned back to us noticing the cake for the first time. It was a simple square white cake, with blue icing that spelled out, "Happy Birthday Sam".
"I thought we agreed on pie." Dean complained.
"No, you agreed on pie. I said cake." I pointed out casting a nervous smile towards Sam who had yet to say something positive or negative.
"Cake… is good." Sam smiled softly, emotion hiding in his eyes. "Thanks guys."
I handed him the card. A picture of a fluffy Golden Retriever smiled back at him happily.
"I know it's not much, but Happy Birthday, Sam."
He opened the card.
You're probably old now, but at least you're not as old as Dean. Don't tell him I said that. Happy Birthday!
Embarrassed, he smiled down at the messy handwriting. Dean handed him a beer. "Thanks. Let's eat."