They spent Christmas at Bobby's, things seemed to really cool down between the boys, but Sam was planning something huge.

"Uncle Bobby," Sam said one afternoon as he hung out with Bobby in the garage while Dean was out doing something with their dad. He had opened a drawer and found a bunch of broken cassette tapes. "Can I have these?"

"What for?" Bobby asked as he looked over his shoulder to see what Sam wanted.

"Project," Sam answered too quickly.

"You ain't in school," Bobby smirked.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I know, but I got this thing I'm working on, and I think that these would work great."

"This got anything to do with your bald head?" Bobby said. "Cuz your Daddy warned me to keep an eye on the two of you, keep you from killin' each other."

"It doesn't," Sam promised. "I swear. I'm just doing something. It'll be awesome, you'll like it."

"Alright," Bobby nodded. "Don't make me a liar, Sammy."

"I won't Bobby, I promise," Sam nodded. He loaded up the broken cassettes into the front pocket of his sweatshirt and smiled to himself. He had that same evil genius gene that Dean had, and this is going to be the most brilliant upsetting prank that had ever been pulled in the history of pranks.

Sam decided that he had to hit Dean in a place that hurt as much as Sam losing all his hair. Every now and again he would look over at his brother, struggling to read i The Fellowship of the Ring/i and start to think that maybe it would be a good idea to just let this prank business die out, but then he'd go to flip his hair out of his eyes, and remember that there was nothing there to flip and decide that he was going to make his brother suffer as much as he had suffered.

It was going to take time to get all the details right on this one. Dean had called a truce over Christmas break, buying Sam his own Walkman so he wouldn't complain about the music in the car. Sam had felt like a little bit of a jerk buying Dean iThe Lord of the Rings/i books that Janie had gotten him to start to read now that they had broken up , but Dean seemed to really like it.

Sam had never seen Dean more upset than when Janie broke up with him. He was like a different person entirely. Dean was never sullen, now his brother was only sullen. Bobby was teaching Dean to drive, so that was slowly cheering in up, but Sam didn't want to prank Dean while he was so upset. So he'd just have to wait for the right time.

Dean loved nothing more that the shoe box of cassettes under the front seat of the Impala. He had favorite ones, there was this one that had "Hey Jude" on it twice for whatever reason, that had a "D" carved in the corner just in case anyone had any thought that the tape belonged to Dean. It had all the songs that Dean liked to sing horribly off key in the shower. He had an unnatural attachment to music that Sam would never understand. Ninety percent of Dean's music was older that he was, more likely to be the music their dad listened to when he was a freshman in high school than anyone else in Dean's class. Sam knew he had to destroy it.

The first part of Sam's plan was to get the shoe box. It had to be the real shoe box or Dean would see right through it. When their dad was on hunts, Dean took the shoe box with his tapes in it and put it under his bed. Their dad was a fan of finding country or classic rock stations, the tapes only ever played when Dean stuck one in the player. John would always sigh and shake his head looking over at Dean, then turn it up slightly and sing along. Sam didn't understand it, he figured his dad and brother were just weirdos, but he'd grown to accept it; grown to deal with the outdated music that poured out of the Impala's speakers. The hard part was getting the shoe box, Dean would notice if it was missing, and notice if it was a different shoe box. But Sam needed that shoe box to make his prank work.

It took weeks of planning, after they'd moved on from Bobby's and were living out of a motel in southwestern Wisconsin; after the shapeshifter in Milwaukee (Dean's first kill), a ghost in Alabama, a woman in white out in Cape Cod and before they knew it, it was the end of April, and Sam's birthday was creeping up on them.

"What do you want for your birthday?" Dean asked as he jumped over the back of the couch in a little cottage in Ohio. "Twelve's a big deal."

"No it's not," Sam chuckled. "What did you do for your twelfth birthday."

"I don't even know where we were when I turned twelve," Dean shrugged. "Doesn't mean it can't be awesome for you."

"I don't need anything," Sam answered.

"Shoes?" Dean asked. "The job at the gas station is pulling in some decent cash."

"I don't need anything," Sam repeated. "I'm doing fine."

"Alright," Dean said rubbing his hand over Sam's hair that was starting to grow longer. "Don't say I didn't ask. You don't even want, like, a cake or nothing?"

"I do not want a gas station cake," Sam answered.

"I can make one," Dean defended. "I can get a box of mix at the grocery store and make one."

"I'm good," Sam shrugged. "I'll probably just do some homework."

"I'll at least make you dinner," Dean suggested. "Whatever you want. Order out or whatever. I don't think Dad'll be back yet. From the sounds him and Caleb have gotten ahold of something big in Aurora."

"Of course he did," Sam sighed. "He's always finding i something huge /i . Especially when there's something huge going on at home. When was the last time he was around for a big holiday or a birthday?"

"I'm pretty sure he was around for mine this year," Dean mumbled. "And Christmas."

"But he missed Thanksgiving," Sam whined. "And my last birthday, and your fifteenth birthday, and the two Christmases before that."

"So he's not perfect," Dean defended. "It comes with the job."

"That job is stupid," Sam said crossing his arms across his chest. "Bobby's spent more time with us than Dad has."

"Dad's doing important work," Dean replied.

"And we're not important," Sam spat. "We should be most important. He could have lost us in that fire too."

"And that's why he does what he does," Dean huffed. "You'll understand it someday."

"I'll never understand it," Sam said shaking his head. "I never want to do it."

"You're good at it," Dean said turning to face Sam and pulling one foot up on the sofa. "You're awesome at research, and that's the most important part of the job. You're super at remembering urban legends and stuff, you're great with a gun. You'll be one hell of a hunter some day, Sammy."

"I don't want to be a hunter," Sam said pushing himself off the couch. "Ever."

Sam walked over to their room and slammed the door.

And there, under Dean's bed, next to a stash of stolen porn magazines was that shoe box. His time had come.

Sam first went of the the door and checked to make sure Dean wasn't following him. When he heard the faint sounds of baseball coming from the television other room he knew he was safe for a while. He picked up his duffel and found all the tapes he'd been collecting: the broken ones from Bobby's, ones that their dad had broken or the Impala ate, a couple blank ones he's gotten his dad to buy since he'd gotten his own walkman. He put them all on his bed and then grabbed Dean's shoe box and dumped those tapes into a separate pile.

Carefully, he took each of Dean's tapes out of their case and replaced it with one of the broken ones, he made sure that the ribbon was sticking out, but no too much so Dean wouldn't notice right away. Then he pulled his Swiss Army Knife out of his front pocket and took it to one of the blank tapes, doing his best to make the "D" look as much like the one on Dean's tape as possible. He pulled the ribbon out of the blank tape carefully and placed that tape at the top of the pile.

It turned out that John made it home for Sam's birthday, he wasn't drunk, but he didn't remember it was Sam's birthday either.

"What's with the cake?" John asked dropping his duffel bag on the floor.

"It's the second of May," Dean said eyeing his dad carefully. "So there's cake."

"What's so special about that?" John scoffed looking between his boys. Sam shifted awkward in the chair and dropped his fork.

"May second," Dean said quickly. "Second day of May."

"Oh," John nodded. "Yeah right."He clapped Sam on the back. "Happy birthday, kiddo. How old are you know thirty-five?"

"Twelve," Sam sighed. "I'm twelve."

"Of course you are," John smiled. "You boys ate actual food today, right?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "I made some lasagna. There's more in the fridge."

John gripped Sam's shoulder tightly before walking over to the refrigerator and helping himself to leftovers.

"He forgot," Sam whispered.

"He was joking around," Dean assured him. "He knew. Come on, Sammy don't be weird about it. He was just kidding."

"What if he wasn't," Sam replied. "What if he cared so little about us that he forgot our birthdays?"

"Don't worry about it, Sam," Dean said seriously. "He's here. Isn't that what you wanted."

Sam shrugged, but he knew it was the only thing he'd ask for, he just wanted to be a family. Have a sober father and a nice dinner and maybe watch movies or something. He smiled a little bit despite himself. This was the closest he was ever going to get to his ideal life.

John and the boys ended up sitting around the TV watching an old movie on cable. It was nice, quite, exactly what Sam wanted out of his birthday.

"Well," Dean yawned. "I think I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Good idea," John nodded. "All of us should. I gotta head back to Aurora in the morning."

"Why?" Sam asked. "If you're home didn't you get it?"

"Nope," John smirked. "Left Caleb to do a little background, while I came home for my boy's birthday."

"Oh," Sam mumbled.

John stood up and ruffled what Sam had for hair. "You really think I'd forget? I meant to be here for dinner, but I did what I could."

"Thanks," Sam smiled weakly.

"No problem, kid," John smiled. "Now go to bed."

"Goodnight, Dad," Sam said standing up. Before John to walk away, Sam wrapped in a tight hug. "Thank you for coming back."

"Happy Birthday, Sammy."

Sam caught Dean staring at him from across the room. His brother looked utterly heartbroken.

The next morning Dean was in a mood. He woke Sam up by crashing a bunch of stuff while looking for his walkman.

"What are you doing?" Sam whined.

"I want to listen to music," Dean answered, dumping the whole of his duffel bag on the floor: clothes, a ladderless firetruck, and an old alarm clock, among other things came crashing down. "Know where my walkman is?"

"Top drawer of your dresser," Sam sighed. "Can you be quieter?"

"No," Dean mumbled as he walked across the room and ripped the drawer open.

"It's under your socks," Sam said sitting up. "I was sleeping. Why are you being a pain in the ass?"

"Because," Dean answered. He pulled his walkman and headphones out of the drawer and padded back to the bed. He sat down and reached under his bed, pulling out his shoe box.

"Did you do this?" Dean demanded looking up at his brother. He held the tape that Sam had carved the "D" into up in the air.

"Do what?" Sam yawned, not yet putting together the pieces of the puzzle.

"Ruining my music?" Dean growled, throwing the tape across the room at Sam.

"I didn't ruin anything," Sam replied.

"Then who did?" Dean yelled. "The fucking boogie man?"

"Maybe," Sam shrugged. "Since we both know he's real."

"Don't be a punk, Sam," Dean spat. "I know you did this. Why did you ruin my tapes?"

"Because you make all my hair fall out," Sam answered.

"You little shit," Dean screamed. "That was months ago!"

"Revenge is best served cold," Sam said in his most serious voice.

And at that moment, he realized he'd done something horrible. Dean lunged toward him.

"What's wrong with you?" He yelled trying to grab at Sam's legs, but Sam was still smaller and faster than Dean. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

"Calm down," Sam said rolling his eyes. "They're just tapes."

"You little piece of shit," Dean growled. "I'm gonna kill you."

John pushed the door open to witness Sam doing his best to scurry away from an irate Dean. He grabbed the older boy by the waist, stopping him, but Dean wouldn't stop struggling.

"Calm down," John said seriously. When Dean continued to struggle his placed the boy in a hold that dropped him to his knees. "Use your words."

"He ruined my tapes," Dean said, warm tears filling his eyes and slowly falling down his face. "He pulled all the ribbon out. They're ruined. It's all gone. All of it. Every last one of them."

"They're just cassettes," Sam said shaking his head. "Breathe."

"Sammy," John said coldly. He pointed at the discarded shoe box of destroyed tapes "Did you do this?"

Sam nodded, a proud look on his face. "Yeah, I did. Serves him right too."

"They're Mom's," Dean gasped struggling against his father. "They were Mom's and you don't even care, do you?"

Sam's heart sank. Until that moment he believed everything that once belong to their mother had been destroyed, save the few pictures their dad kept in his wallet. No one had ever said anything about it being their mom's music. He always believed it was Dean's.

"I didn't know," Sam mumbled. "I… I just thought they were yours."

"No!" Dean yelled. "They were hers. She kept them in the car to annoy Dad. He never used to like the classics. Mom did. And now they're gone. Let me go so I can kill him."

"Yeah," John said rolling his eyes. "High on my to do list. He's right, they were your Mom's. Why'd you do that, Sam?"

"It was just a prank," Sam whimpered. "Because of the Nair thing. I just wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me. I thought… I was trying to… I just."

Sam walked over to his duffel and showing his brother his very intact tapes.

"It was just a prank," Sam repeated. "I'm not a big jerk like you are. I wouldn't ruin your stuff."

John let out an audible sigh as Dean started a brand new round of struggle. John tightened his grip.

"Listen, the both of you," John said seriously. "This was the last prank. There is no more. If Dean feels the need to prank Sam back for this one, I swear to God I will unleash heaven and hell on your ass. You boys understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Sam said nodding. "Never again."

"Dean," John said. "Is that understood."

"Yes, sir," Dean mumbled. "I won't do anything to Sam."

"If I let go of you are you going to behave and not move?" John asked. "If you make one step toward your brother I'll tie you to a chair."

"I understand, sir," Dean nodded, and John slowly released his grip.

"I've gotta call Caleb," John said shaking his head. "Tell him I have to babysit my two idiots to make sure they don't kill each other. Hopefully there's someone else in the area that can help him take it down."

When John left the room, Dean sat on the floor and looked over at Sam.

"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled. "I didn't know they were Mom's. I swear. I wouldn't have done it if I knew. I would have thought of something else."

Sam slid his bag across the floor. Dean reached in and started to pull the tapes out. He stopped at that one Sam always thought was just Dean claiming his stuff as his.

"The day she died," Dean began. "It was raining, and we had to stay inside. So Mom made mixtapes and she let me help. That's why iHey Jude/i is on here twice. Because she used to sing it to me. It's all her favorites; the songs she wanted all me to learn because she hated the music Dad listened to and she didn't want me to like it."

Sam looked down at the floor unable to make eye contact with Dean.

"That's why there's a 'D' carved into it. Because it was my tape that she made. She wanted to be able to find it in the car and know it was mine. Most of her tapes were mixed tapes off her records so they all looked the same. She wanted to be able to find quick if she had to."

"I didn't know," Sam repeated. "You never told me before."

"Now you do," Dean said as he took the rest of the tapes out.

"No one ever tells me anything about her," Sam continued. "I don't know anything."

"This isn't the best way to get me to open up about what I remember," Dean said rolling his eyes hard.

"I know," Sam mumbled. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to take something away that you really cared about."

"You really can't care that much about hair, Samantha," Dean chuckled in spite of himself.

"Well, I like my hair," Sam smiled. "It's part of my identity. It makes me different from you and Dad."

"It looked stupid," Dean scoffed. "And it's impractical for hunting, unless we need a decoy girl."

"Boys can have long hair too, Dean," Sam rolled his eyes. "And it wasn't even that long. It was normal. Like all the other boys I go to school with. There was nothing wrong with it. It's just not what you like. I don't have to like everything you like, that's stupid."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. He grabbed the shoe box with all of the broken tapes and started to go through them, putting the right tape back in the right case. "Where did you even find all these broken tapes?"

"Bobby's," Sam answered. "He had a drawer full of them. And Dad had a couple. Pretty much everyone has a drawer of broken stuff. It's kinda weird. I only had to buy one pack of blank ones."

"Impressive," Dean nodded. "You're quite the prodigy at pranking, Sammy. I'm amazed at how much you've grown."

"And you're still a jerk," Sam chuckled.

"Next we'll work on your comebacks," Dean smiled.

"Because yours are so great?" Sam scoffed. "Last week, that guy Dad was talking to, do you remember?"

"No," Dean mumbled looking away.

"You were trying to talk about your hunting and they guy asked if you still ordered off the kids' menu. You said 'Yeah, I bet you order off the kid's menu.' I really want you teaching me stuff about comebacks."

"Shut up," Dean said shaking his head. "It's hard on the spot sometimes. We'll learn together."

"You are really the biggest dork of all time," Sam chuckled.

"Takes one to know one, bitch," Dean smiled.

"Jerk," Sam said shaking his head.

John stood in the doorway after getting off the phone with Caleb watching his boys. The way his boys could go from ready to kill each other to laughing always amazed him. He'd been worried when he realized both of his boys had managed to inherit this temperament, that quick to anger ask no questions part of him. But both of his boys had more of their mother in them than either realized: the lazy smile, the ability to forgive and forget. His boys were going to something someday. Something amazing if they ever stopped trying to kill each other.

An: Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed this, it's been fun writing and hearing from all of you.

If you have an idea for what I should write next feel free to send me an message.