A/n: Part two takes place during season one after Sam is back with Dean after Jess' death. It's his 23rd birthday.

Language warning

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Part 2

It's the birthday he will never forget.

Sam doesn't even know why he lets Dean talk him into it.

"Come on Sammy, it'll be fun," Dean promises. "God knows you could use a little fun." He says this in a genuine tone. The older brother knows what the younger one has been through in the last couple of months. Sam looks at him, a sad gleam in his eye. He knows what his brother is hinting at. He knows he just wants to help, but he can't. Not only six months after his world came crashing down on him. Not after he had almost lost him too, and recently at that.

"It's Sam," Sam corrects his brother. "And I don't feel like celebrating."

"I'm not saying get shitfaced, I'm just saying have a little drink in honor of this glorious day," Dean reassures him.

"Glorious?" Sam scoffs.

"Stop being a prude and have a shot with me. You're turning twenty three, not ninety three," the older man teases.

What the hell? It's not like he has anything better to do.

The bar isn't all that crowded, makes sense to Sam being that it's a Wednesday. It's tiny, intimate, with one small counter with six barstools and two tables not far from the counter. There is one pool table that's occupied by two men a little older than his brother. One restroom is located for men on the right and one for women on the left. In the corner closest to the door, there is an ATM and a jute box. Sam and Dean slide onto an empty bar stool as a woman in her late thirties with dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail comes around the corner to greet them.

"What can I get you fellas?" She asks.

"Pick your poison birthday boy," Dean gently nudges Sam. Sam's not really in the mood to drink. He shrugs.

"A water please," Sam orders.

"Two shots of whiskey sweetheart," Dean adds.

"You got it." She turns from the brothers and fixes their drinks. Sam shakes his head. Of course his brother would order him a drink despite him wanting to stick to water.

"What?" Dean asks noticing his gesture.

"I told you, I don't want to drink tonight," Sam responds. Before Dean can say anything, the bartender returns with their drinks.

Dean raises his shot glass up and out towards Sam. He begins to rattle off "happy Birthday" to the now twenty three year old like a tone deaf hound. Sam tries to hide his reddening face as eyes fall on him and chuckles sound off. "To the biggest pain in the ass little brother!" Sam scoffs, reluctantly collects his own glass in his hand, and clinks it with his brother's before they both toss them back.

"Another?" Dean asks. Sam hesitates but agrees. The brothers share a few more, then Dean takes up a glass of whiskey, Sam follows suite. "Finally!" Dean shouts out with a laugh catching Sam off guard and causing him to throw his brother a raised eyebrow.

"Finally what?"

"I finally get to celebrate a birthday with my little brother in a bar. I've been waiting for this day since...ha, forever." Sam finds a spot on the counter to stare at. Dean looks over at him and notices his hazel eyes are unwilling to meet his green. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, me too." The younger man clears his throat and looks everywhere but at his company. He downs the rest of his whiskey and asks for another. Now Dean's attention is really piqued.

"What's eating you Gilbert Grape?" He asks trying to lighten up the awkward mood Sam has set. "And don't say nothing," he adds pointing his finger at him. Sam sits fidgeting with his now empty glass. His eyes still not meeting his brother's, and his lips pressed together.

"Hey, you wanna play a round?" Sam asks directing a thumb towards the pool table. Dean recognizes his little brother's tactic to get out of the conversation as one he general uses himself. Normally Sam has no problem opening up about his feelings, but something was clearly upsetting him, and his lack of sharing was upsetting Dean.

"Yeah sure. You go rack and crack, be there in a minute." While his brother slips away to ready the game, the older man makes his own to the jute box. By the time Dean joins Sam, "Rock n' Roll Never Forgets," is blaring through the speakers. Dean is singing along with the song as he takes his shot. A smile creeps across Sam's face.

"You and your old man music," he jests.

"You leave Seger alone you new age hippy heathen," Dean responds. Sam smirks as he watches him smack yet another solid into a pocket.

"I guess it's kinda nice to see somethings never change. Like your love for whiskey, crappy taste in music, and your attempt to hit on anyone with a nice rack" he jokes.

"Ok first of all you drink whiskey too. Secondly, who are you to say my music is crappy Mr. Alternative Indie Bullshit? Lastly, I don't just hit on women with nice racks...sometimes they have more to offer in the back then the front." Sam rolls his eyes as he lines up to smack a striped ball into the pocket across from him.

"You're a dog," the younger man retorts playfully.

"I'm very respectful," Dean counters. "I am who I am and that ain't never going to change."

Sam's face deadpans as he glances over at his big brother. "Why didn't you call?" Now it was Dean's turn to be caught of guard.

"What?"

"On my twenty first birthday, why didn't you call? You never shut up about how you couldn't wait until I turned twenty one." It falls silent between the brothers. Dean throws back the rest of his whiskey and then sets down the empty glass on a nearby table. "Didn't you care? Did you even remember?" Sam's throat starts to tighten as he presses on.

"Of course I cared," Dean shoots back immediately, disbelief and pain in his eyes as well as etched on his face as he looks at him. "Of course I remembered. How could you even think that? What do you take me for Sam?" His voice has grown louder, the hurt ringing stronger then the disbelief. "I wanted to call you. I stared at my phone at least a hundred times that day, contemplating calling you." Dean falls silent but the look in his eyes are screaming with emotion that he is trying to avoid.

"You did?" Sam's voice is nothing more than a choked whisper as he tries to keep it steady. "Why didn't you?" Dean's eyes shoot over to look at the plethora of bottles behind the counter.

"I didn't think you would want me to," he admits unable to look his brother in the eyes.

"What?"

"You didn't answer any of my calls prior, why would you all of the sudden start then?" His voice turns from pain to slight anger. Sam feels as though he has just been slapped in the face.

"Dean, I-"

"And for the record, so did Dad." Sam straightens up as Dean jabs his pool stick at the solid yellow ball. It makes contact and shoots off into the pocket, taking a solid blue with it.

"Dad remembered?" Sam asks. The older brother shakes his head in astonishment.

"It was you who walked out on us Sam, not the other way around. You may have been able to skip out and form a new life and discard your old one and your family like we were yesterdays trash, but we weren't given that same luxury. You honestly thought we could just erase you? Pretend like you never existed? Do you have any idea how hard, how miserable it was for me knowing that it was the milestone that I had been looking forward to sharing with my little brother and I wasn't even able to be there for it? Do you have any idea what it felt like to send you a text or try to call you, just to have it go to voicemail or the text to never be replied to? Or to have a stone weighing in your gut that kept you from sleeping or wanting to eat because you were too sick from worrying about whether or not your little brother was alive and ok? Not to mention the guilt of having been the one responsible. " Dean stops and bows his head. Sam's eyes are glistening as the words his brother says hits him like a fist to the gut. All this time he had thought his family stopped caring, when in fact it had been he who had pushed them away, not them.

"Dean, I never meant-"

"You know what, it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done." Dean rests his stick against the wall and slips out of sight. Sam wants to go after him, but he knows that will only make things worse. His brother was hurt, and it had been because of him. Sam makes his way back to the bar and orders a shot of Whiskey, which he downs and then asks for another. A few minutes pass by and Dean still hasn't returned. Sam orders another shot. He throws it back and this time, he feels it. His head begins to swim and grow light as the room begins to twirl around him. He makes his way to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Sam drops to his knees, clings to the toilet, and empties his stomach. Just as he thinks it's over, he hurls again. Sam slides from the toilet to the cold floor his eyes close and everything around him slowly starts to dim and fade.

He's not sure how long he lays on the ground or how long he's out. When he wakes up again, it's his brother's concerned freckled face that come into his vision.

"D'n?"

"I gotcha Sammy, I gotcha." Dean lifts him to his feet with some difficulty. His little brother wasn't so little anymore. In fact he was a good few inches taller and a couple pounds heavier thanks to muscle then the last time Dean had lifted him up. Sam passes out.

The next time he wakes up, he's buckled and laying on his side in the back seat of a familiar car. The world's spinning around him. He shuts his eyes and groans as his stomach lurches. The soothing voice of his brother, purring of the Impala, and feeling of a comforting hand rubbing his back makes it easy for him to fall into an easy sleep.

LilyBolt, thank you for your kind words and for attending that Con with me last weekend. What a day, I'm so glad I could share that with you and I hope to be able to do it again in the future. You're the phenomenal one, not me lol