Just Like Christmas

Sam glanced at the bed next to him, checking to see if Dean was still asleep. The even breathing and slight snoring indicated that he was. Sam quickly and quietly slipped on his shoes, grabbed the keys on the nightstand, and left the hotel room. He knew Dean wouldn't mind him borrowing the Impala for a short time, and it was still very early. Sam slid behind the wheel of the vehicle and turned over the engine, the purr of it filling the air. It didn't take long to get where he was going; the gas station was only a few miles down the road. Sam went into the gas station's store and grabbed the items he wanted, paid for them courtesy of Jose Daniels, and then settled back into the Impala, arriving back at the hotel within a half hour.

He parked the Impala and grabbed the brown bag crammed with the items he had just purchased, reaching into his back pocket for the hotel room key. The keys jingled as he sought for them, finally grasping them and shoving them into the lock. Sam checked the bed closest to the opposite wall; Dean was still asleep. He placed the bag under his bed and waited for his brother to wake up.

Dean finally stirred in another hour. Sam hadn't wanted to wake him; it was part of his gift to him. Besides, lately Dean hadn't slept well at all, kept waking up with nightmares. Not that Sam could blame him. Forty years in hell, years of torture or torturing. All those memories still locked in Dean's head, still carrying around all the grief and guilt.

"Morning Sammy, why'd you let me sleep? You got a case lined up? I'm ready to go kick some demon ass." Dean greeted Sam, sitting up in the bed and reaching for his pants and shoes on the floor.

Sam continued to stare at Dean for a moment, lost in his thoughts and the difficult year they'd both had.

"Hey, bitch! Am I the only one who's awake here?" Dean reached behind him and tossed a pillow at Sam's head, it smacked him square in the face, knocking Sam out of his reverie.

"Jerk," Sam said, responding with their usual banter. He decided to broach Dean with what was on his mind.

"Dean, you know what today is?" Sam grabbed the pillow that Dean had thrown at him and tossed it to the side.

"Yeah, it's Thursday. What? You stuck in a time loop again? What's playing on the radio now, Metallica? You gonna toss the alarm clock out the window this time."

"You just can't let anything go, can you, Dean?" Sam shook his head at the typical Dean move of deflecting any possible emotion and going for a few laughs. "Don't tell me you've forgotten."

"Forgotten what, Sammy? Stop it with this cryptic shit, I just woke up and you're already trying to piss me off; what is it? Anniversary of the day you lost your virginity?" quipped Dean, a smirk on his face.

"You are such a pain in the ass, you know that Dean? It's January 24th. You're birthday. Turning the big three-oh, you know?"

"Aren't you so freakin' cute, remembering that. You ain't getting all touchy, feely, cry your eyes out on me walking down memory lane, are you?" Dean shifted on the bed, uncomfortable with the conversation, but also touched that Sam would remember.

"Just…Dean. You're back, you're alive. I didn't think I'd get a chance to celebrate another birthday with you again. I tried…no loop holes. I just want to celebrate your life, seeing as how you're back from the dead. Can't we just do that?" Sam eyes pleaded with Dean, searching his face to gauge Dean's reaction to his words.

"Ah, Sammy, what do you wanna do? I'd be happy with another hunt. You cook something up, maybe killing a few demonic sons of bitches with Ruby's pig sticker?" Dean's eyes lit up for a moment, considering the opportunity for ridding the world of a bit more evil.

Sam reached under the bed and pulled out the brown paper bag. "Actually, I thought maybe we could sorta hang out here, you know? Like we did for Christmas…" His words trailed off and Sam ran his hand through his hair. He looked down at the package in his other hand and tossed it to Dean. "Happy Birthday big brother."
Dean reached out and caught the bag single-handedly. "Sammy, you shouldn't've done anything, it's not a big de…" Sam cut him off.

"Oh, shut up Dean and open the damn bag. You're alive, you're another year older. Just do this for me." Sam's eyes moved slowly between the bag and Dean's face.

"Alright, alright. I get it. I'm not dead anymore. Woo hoo," Dean deadpanned, unfolding the top of the bag. Inside were a few quarts of oil, some car wax, windshield washer fluid, leather polish, some candy bars, and a skin magazine.

"Dude, fuel for me and my baby again, and then some! You're awesome Sammy." Dean's voice grew a bit husky and his eyes were bright. He gazed at the items in his hands and thought about the last few months, clearing his throat. Reuniting with Sammy, hunting with him, dealing with Lilith and the seals, learning angels were real, and also his time in hell, time when he tortured poor innocent souls. The joys and pains twisted his expression, making it mournful. "I don't deserve this," Dean said, "But thanks, Sammy."

Sam's fist clinched on the bed, he saw the look in his brother's eyes, knew what was going on in his head, the guilt and self doubt. He felt bad about not being able to save Dean from the pit, hated what it had done to him. These gifts didn't really show how much Dean meant to him, but they were the best he could do.

"You're welcome, Dean. It's so good to have you back."

"Ok dude, no chick flick moments. I don't think I could handle that, and you're staring at me with those moony eyes. Wanna watch a game again, maybe you doing some magic on the computer and finding us a nice, juicy hunt?" Dean reached for the TV remote and started clicking through the channels, searching for a game. Sam grabbed his laptop and turned it on. They sat together in silence for a moment. Sam looked up from his computer.

"Dean?" Sam's voice broke the silence.

"Yeah?" Dean stopped watching TV and looked over at Sam, a protective look in his eyes, which softened at Sam's next words.

"Happy Birthday."