Disclaimer: This is as much mine as this is a recently writen story...

A/N: Holy smokes. Haha... this stories brought back angry memories of procrastination. As many of you may have figured out by now, I'm a big fan of Limp!Sam and Protect!Dean. So, as a birthday gift to myself, about two days before my birthday, I started typing up this one shot. I didn't get it done for my birthday though, but nevertheless, the aclaimed writer, Windy Fontaine's birthday was about a week after mine-- I could write it for her! Yeah... didn't finish it for that birthday either. I think I finished it about a month later...
My birthday was on June 1st...

Title: Birthday
Genre: This is pretty mellow... some suspense in it though, an everyone's favorite-- fluff.
Summary: After a hunt gone array, Sam is missing in the woods, and remembers back to a time when himself and Dean were young and innocent.

Birthday

Sam stared down at his arm. He was wearing a t-shirt, and though the temperature was climbing into the high nineties, he wished a long sleeve shirt was adorning his muscular arms. Mainly because of the fact that the sun burn which had eaten his once normally tanned arms a bright pink was going to hurt for days.

If he lasted for days.

The woods were deep and thick, though that didn't stop the blaring sun from coming through. To say the younger brother was delirious wouldn't quite be true, though time had lost all meaning. Had he been there one day? Two? Maybe a week? He knew he started out with a bag with some water in it along with some clothes and other useless items-- though Sam had long ago ditched the bag after he ran out of water, and had to outrun what he thought was some sort of wild dog. Subconsciously the hunter moved his hand to the back of his waist band where his gun was.

There was one bullet left.

"Dean!!" Sam stopped and screamed the name with all his might.

He'd been doing this ritual since he got lost in the vane hope that someone-- whether Dean or not-- would answer. It was always a futile effort. Sam wasn't even sure Dean was in the forest anymore, and though he called for his big brother religiously, he always prayed that Dean wouldn't answer-- that would mean that he would be lost as well. When the brothers first went into the woods, it was Dean's idea to split up to try and find the creature that had been terrorizing campers in the area. Sam saw nothing wrong with this concept as they both had a cell phone, and could keep in touch with each other. The last time Sam spoke to Dean, his older brother told him that he had found and killed the creature, and that he was heading back to the car. Dean told Sam to meet him there, and even joked that as an early birthday present, he'd let Sam drive.

Who knew how long it had been since then.

"Alright Dean," Sam gave in to exhaustion and sat his burnt and tired body down on a rotting log, "I'll give you another shot."

Sam pulled out his cell phone, and turned it on. It was quickly obvious that nothing was going to be said to his big brother as the small words reading 'no signal' came across the screen. Sam sighed and felt a tear roll down his cheek as he slumped his face into his hands. The younger man didn't even realize his body falling into a slumber…

"Dean, do you love me?"

"No," Dean stated simply as he sat sluggishly on the couch, a comic book in hand.

Four year old Sam climbed onto the couch and sat nearly on top of Dean, "Why?"

"Because you're talking to me while I'm trying to read," Dean made no effort to look at his little brother.

"You can't read," Sam grinned a toothy smile.

"Yes I can Sammy, now just go," Dean sighed.

"You can't read Dean," Sam insisted.

"And what makes you say that?" Dean was impatient, though now moved the comic book to look at Sam, "I don't just look at these things for the pictures."

"You can't because I can't," Sam stated matter of fact like.

"Sammy, there's a lot of things I can do that you can't," a smile crept onto Dean's face, "I'm nine, and you're not even five yet."

"Oh," Sam paused, "Does that mean there's things I can do that you can't?"

"Probably not," Dean went back to his comic book.

Again Sam was quiet as he watched Dean read the comic book. The pictures were bright and colorful to the younger brother, and after a moment he grinned and spoke up.

"I can read, see--" Sam pointed a stubby finger at the paper, "It says 'Superman'."

"It doesn't say Superman, it is Superman," Dean groaned, "Why don't you go bug Dad. I bet he'll listen to you talk."

"Daddy left," Sam frowned, "He said he'd come back later. Where'd he go?"

"Nowhere Sam, just--" Dean finally gave up and placed the comic down in a huff, "Isn't it time for you to go to bed now Sammy?"

Sam defiantly shook his head, his brown curls bobbing around, "Nope. It's still light."

"Then go play with your toys," Dean stood up, "I'll make us some supper."

"Can I cook?" Sam asked following his big brother into the small kitchen.

"No."

"Why?"

Dean closed his eyes to try and collect his patience, "Because you'd probably kill us both trying to make toast."

"No," again Sam shook his head, "Daddy let me press the button down once to make it."

"Good for you," Dean replied dully as he opened the cupboard in search of something easy to make, "How about Spaghetti-O's?"

"Ok," Sam grinned, "Can I turn on the stove?"

"No Sam!" Dean shot out, spinning around, "Just go away for a while and quit bugging me!"

Sam's lower lip trembled as he took a deep quivering breath. Before Dean could say anything, the young boy walked silently out of the kitchen and into his bedroom. Dean sighed, and decided against going after his little brother-- some quiet time would be good. Fifteen minutes of the silence went by, and slowly Dean began to feel more and more guilty about being mean to Sam-- all he wanted to do was help. Their supper was just beginning to become fully heated when Dean heard careful footsteps behind him.

"Dean, do you love me?"

Dean paused and turned to his little brother, "What do you think?"

Sam bit his lower lip and shook his head slowly.

Dean laughed and sat down on the chair, pulling Sam near him, "Sammy, of course I do. I'm your big brother, I'm supposed to. But sometimes you just get in the way, and I wish you'd go away."

"Forever?" Sam's voice was small.

"Not forever," Dean shook his head, "Just a while. But I always want you to come back, and I'll always be there for you when you do."

Sam studied Dean a moment before speaking, "Want me to go now?"

"No way!" Dean grinned standing up, and placing a hand on Sam's shoulder, "Supper is almost done, and I need someone to make the toast!"…

A ringing echoed in Sam's ears that woke him slowly from his restless memory. It took a moment for the hunter to remember where he was and what was happening, though as realization that the sound was his cell phone, reality clicked in quickly.

"The phone," Sam breathed, struggling in the dark surroundings to find it.

The wanted item was on the ground by his feet, and Sam saw the glowing name of 'Dean' shinning up at him; the best word he knew he'd ever see.

"Dean!" Sam immediately cried out, clicking the answer button on the phone.

"Sammy," Dean's voice choked out, "Thank God…" the reception crackled, though Dean's relieved voice was evident, "Where are you?"

Sam felt tears escaping down his cheeks as he spoke desperately, "I don't know."

"Alright," Dean swallowed hard, "Uhh…just try and go North man… there's a highway that goes all along the north side of the forest."

"Alright," Sam immediately looked up at the sky, trying to find his way north, "…ok, I think I know which way to head."

"Sam…" Dean's voice paused, "I don't want you to hang up."

"Dean, I have to," renewed determination shot through Sam, "I'll be alright, and I will find you."

The words were no sooner spoken than a loud crackle came through the phone, and it cut off. Sam looked at the screen and saw 'no signal'. The rest of the evening was spent walking by Sam. Their father had taught both brothers at a young age how to tell either by day or night which direction was North, and so he was fairly certain he was going in the right direction. It wasn't until the painful sun was just reappearing through the trees that Sam heard the sound of a distant highway.

"Thank you Dean," Sam whispered out, his feet hitting triumphantly against the worn asphalt.

Sam had been trying randomly to get a signal since he was cut off, and all through out the forest his phone had refused to give one. Now, however, the younger brother eagerly took the stubborn cell phone out, and grinned as he saw a weak, but positive signal was available.

"Sammy!" Dean answered after one ring, "Where are you?"

"The highway," Sam grinned into the phone, "Just passed the forty-eight sign. Thanks dude…"

"Thank God," Dean's voice whispered through, "Alright… it won't take me any more than half an hour to get to you. Will you be ok until then?"

"Yeah."

"I'll see you Sam," Dean spoke with an etch of worry in his throat before hanging up.

Sam began to walk down the highway, hoping that he was walking towards the direction that his brother was coming from, and not away. Sam heard the less than quiet Impala before he saw it round a corner in the distance in front of him, and then pull to the side of the road.

"Sammy!" Dean called getting out of the car.

Sam sighed and smiled, "Hey Dean."

"God it's good to see you," relief swept through Dean as he stepped up to Sam and looked critically at his face, "Gezz… you're burnt man…"

Sam nodded his head, "It hurts like hell."

Dean washed his hand over his face, closing his eyes briefly before nodding and again looked up at his little brother, "Are you ok?"

Sam patted Dean's arm, "I'll be fine. I was just--"

"Scared?" Dean guessed.

Sweat from the sun tickled Sam's forehead and stuck his shirt to his back. Watching, eyes full of sympathy, Dean mentally criticized Sam's condition as the younger brother pulled his shirt off. Sam's body was fit and muscular and every muscle seemed to flex as the young hunter wiped his face down with the dirty shirt.

"Dude you're going to look like a trucker now," Dean teased.

"What?"

"Your arms are about fifty times redder than the rest of your body," Dean frowned, "We'll have to put something on that when we get you to the closest motel. You look like crap Sammy."

"Yeah, thanks," Sam gave a sideways look at his brother, "You don't look too much better."

"Worrying about your ass is a full time job," Dean leaned up against the hood of the hot car.

Sam joined his brother, the sun beating down on his bare torso, "Hey Dean…"

"Yeah?" Dean stared down at the ground, willing his heartbeat to go back to normal.

"I'm sorry about when we were little," Sam began, "When I'd always follow you around and bug you and all of that. I know you wanted time to yourself, and I wouldn't let you."

"You're wrong Sammy," Dean paused, briefly wondering why Sam was talking about this, "I always liked you around me. I liked knowing where you were, and if you were ok. I liked knowing that someone else needed me."

Sam smiled, "But… you always used to tell me that you wanted time to yourself. And that you'd just want me to go away."

"Yeah," Dean laughed, "I also liked being the jerk older brother too. And… I do want to be by myself sometimes, but I always want to know where your ass is," Dean looked around, and shivered internally at how the events of the past few days could have gone, "Not like this man…"

"I'm ok…" Sam reminded.

"I know," Dean looked over and grinned at his little brother, "But if you go and try to be Yogi Bear again, I'm going to kill you."

"Good," Sam stood up and stretched his body out.

Dean paused, a small smiled creeping onto his lips, "Hey Sammy…"

"Humm?" Sam got into the passenger side of the trusty Impala.

"I'm glad you're ok. And I'm glad you're back," Dean got into the drivers side, and started up the car, "But you have incredible timing to come back today."

"Why?"

Dean peeled out of the gravel and headed down the endless highway, giving a sincere look at Sam, "Happy birthday little brother."

The End.