Happy New Year!

Yesterday was Dean's birthday, and this idea just suddenly came. This is the first time I've written and posted a story within 24 hours! Many thanks to the wonderful MoonClaimed for her rush fixing up on this.

My other stories will be updating as soon as I locate my lost notebook with all of my ideas in it. So, eventually. As usual.

I own nothing.

In a job like hunting, you could go down at any given moment. Because of this, hunters celebrated life. Each birthday was a big deal because, hey, they didn't kick the bucket just yet, and wasn't that an accomplishment. Every birthday was cause for a celebration.

Except for the Winchesters.

You see, the Winchesters had this penchant for getting themselves killed. There was the time Dean was killed by Lucifer. And the time Sam was stabbed by Jake, and then later by Anna. The time they were both shot, the time they both temporarily killed themselves to save Tessa, the time Dean was brutally mauled by Hellhounds, the time Sam was electrocuted, the hundred three times Gabriel killed Dean… the list went on and on, really. So, rather than celebrate the day they were born, the Winchester brothers chose to celebrate the times they had beaten Death (or rather, the many times the Horseman had let them go).

And so it was on a gloomy Sunday that Dean found himself futilely scouting the paper for any hits when Sam walked into the motel room, a paper bag with dinner in one hand, a white box in the other. Dean, instantly aware of the familiar aroma, looked up at his brother with hope in his eyes.

"Is that pie?" he asked, stretching in his chair before getting up to inspect the package in his brother's hand.

"You know, normally I'd make you eat dinner first, but..." Sam smiled, handing the baked good to his brother. "Happy Time-Dick-Got-You-Killed," Sam smiled.

"Aw, you remembered," Dean smiled. "Thanks!" He ripped the box open and shoveled a forkful into his mouth, moaning at the taste. "And it's fresh. Have I ever told you how awesome you are?"

"You could mention it a few times more," Sam grinned. "Where's Cas?"

"Right here," the angel said, appearing behind them. The brothers barely controlled their urge to flinch at the sudden appearance of their friend.

"How do you still do that? You don't have your powers, but you're still like a ninja!" Dean said, calming his heart with another bite of pie.

"Here, Cas," Sam said, pulling out a small box from the bag. "Happy Death Day."

Castiel stared quizzically at the younger Winchester for a moment, trying to figure out if he was serious or pulling his leg. It wasn't until Sam raised his eyebrows questioningly that the angel realized he was serious.

"…What?"

"Happy Death Day," Sam tried again, slower this time.

"Uh…thank you?" Castiel hesitantly reached out and took the box and opened it. He blinked at the large cupcake inside. "I thought it was customary to celebrate the day of one's birth?"

"It is, but since when do we do anything the normal way?" Dean pointed out, mouth full of food.

Castiel frowned at his pastry. "This is… a little morbid."

"Hey, we beat death! You ask me, that's something worth celebrating."

"But shouldn't we celebrate the day we got out of Purgatory, then?"

"No," Sam said before Dean could pose the question. "We are not celebrating both days. You already get enough celebrations in a year as it is, not including the Mystery Spot anniversary."

Dean smiled fondly. "Oh Mystery Spot anniversary, how I love you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "That's because you don't remember it," he grumbled under his breath.

"Say, were we actually dead when Dick screwed us over?"

"You were in Purgatory, Dean. That's where all the monsters we kill go."

"I dunno, Sam; they looked pretty alive to me," Dean countered. "What do you think, Cas? …Cas?" The angel continued to stare unhappily at his cupcake. "Come on, Cas; it's tradition!"

"You got me a cupcake," Castiel finally said after a moment, looking up at Sam.

"Yeah. It's a celebration. You eat cake on Death Day."

"Dean is eating pie," Castiel countered.

Sam shrugged. "Dean prefers pie."

Cas stared at Dean's pie for a long moment. "I want pie," he said at last.

"No can do; bakery closed fifteen minutes ago."

"I want pie," Castiel repeated, facing Sam.

Sam glared at his brother. "You're a terrible influence." He snatched the Impala's keys off the table. "Anything else, while I go commit a felony to get you a pie?"

"I hear ice cream goes well with it."

"Look what you've created," Sam scowled at Dean, who smiled innocently back. "If I'm not back in thirty assume I've been arrested," he grunted, shutting the door behind him.

Cas turned to face Dean. "I like Death Day."