Sam was anxious to get back downstairs before Dad realized something was up and came looking. He shepherded Dean out the door and followed him down the hall to the steps. There was a brief pile-up at the bottom as his brother struggled with the final step. It was higher than all the rest, and Dean's legs still weren't all that reliable most days.
Sam glanced back as he waited, bored, and his breath caught in his throat. Leslie stood just outside their bedroom door, her expression deadly. Suddenly, Sam had no doubt she'd overheard everything the boys had said.
Her vicious stare pinned him for a long moment before it melted into a sarcastic smile, and then she turned and walked away toward their father's room.
Sam swallowed hard, suddenly awash in a confusing torrent of emotions. He felt glad and guilty at the same time. Mostly though, he realized, he just felt scared. Something about that look made him feel immensely uneasy, and he couldn't help the shudder that passed through him.
Dean noticed, "You okay?"
"Yeah," Sam replied, placing himself instinctively behind his compromised brother as he pictured Leslie returning to the top of the stairs, shotgun in hand. "Come on, Dean. I'm hungry."
Dean scowled, "Sorry if my debilitating injury is getting in the way of your next meal, bitch."
Sam snickered, "Well it is. So scoot, you big jerk." He tried to sound annoyed, but kept a firm grasp on Dean's arm until they made it into the kitchen, where he helped the older boy into the one chair with the cushion on it. Sam glanced down in sympathy, knowing Dean always felt worse after his PT sessions. "Stay here. I'll fix your plate."
Sam expected a snarky reply, but when Dean just nodded gratefully, Sam knew the pain was kicking up. He loaded a plate with two buns, dropped two of the greasiest cheeseburgers on top and then heaped the whole thing with onions. The sight and smell of it made Sam nauseous, but he knew how Dean liked his burgers. He dropped it unceremoniously in front of his brother on the table, watching the older boy's eyes light up. "If you live to see thirty, I'll be amazed." Sam joked, picking up his own plate and filling it with greens.
Dean took a huge bite and talked around it. "You might live longer, but I'll live happier."
Sam stared at the spectacle. "We better have mouthwash, or you're sleeping down here tonight."
Dean rolled his eyes and grinned, "Shut it, Samantha. You know you love me."
Leslie joined them then, patting Sam on the back as she passed. "So, is everything good?"
Sam studied her, nodding. "It is. Thanks." She was a hard one to figure out. He watched as she moved over beside John and sat down, coffee in hand. "You're not eating?" He questioned, surprised.
"It's not poisoned, Sam. Cross my heart." She returned rudely.
Sam felt his mouth drop open before he could help it, but she continued.
"You know, I tried to do something nice for you."
Sam glanced at Dean for help and could see that he was just as surprised as Sam by the sudden change in room temperature.
"Leslie, I …" Sam started, trying to apologize even though he had no idea what he'd done.
But suddenly, she must have realized how her words sounded. Every eye in the room was on her, including John's, and not in a nice way. She laughed lightly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snipe. It's just been a long day."
Sam nodded and looked down at his plate, embarrassed. He moved quickly to sit down beside his brother, even though he'd only gotten as far as the lettuce. He kept his face down to hide the pink bloom he knew was rising. He could see Dean toss him a sympathetic look out of the corner of his eye as the room grew silent as a tomb.
John cleared his throat. "So Sam. Did you get a look at your cake yet?"
Sam looked up, shaking his head.
John rose and moved to take the cake out of the bakery box, he stood and tilted it, so Sam could see the design.
The smile that spread across the youngest Winchester's face was genuine. "It's a puppy." He exclaimed softly, getting up and limping over to take a closer look. "I love it! Thanks Dad!"
John cleared his throat again, cutting his eyes to the side. "Oh! And thank you, Leslie. Thanks Dean! It's a cool cake!"
Behind him, Sam could hear Leslie rise and go into the garage off the kitchen. She returned a moment later.
"This was completely Leslie's idea, Sam." John said. "I tried to fight it, but she out-maneuvered me. So happy birthday, son." He pointed behind Sam.
The younger boy turned then, and stood face to face with a grinning Leslie who held an adorable, furry brown puppy in her arms. "Happy birthday, Sam." She echoed.
Sam's eyes widened into saucers as he took the pup from Leslie's arms. The little thing wriggled and whined a bit, getting comfortable. Then it snuggled down against Sam's chest like it belonged there. It reached up a sandpaper tongue and took a quick swipe at his cheek.
Sam giggled like a three-year-old, and from his seat at the kitchen table, Dean couldn't stop grinning. Sammy had wanted a dog for forever, but their nomadic lifestyle had never allowed it.
Sam looked straight at Dean then, smile bright as a Christmas tree. "It's a dog, Dean! We have a dog!"