Happy Birthday, Dean

Happy Birthday, Dean

A Supernatural story by Mich @raiahome

You've read Mich's Tales from Baby... now watch her branch out! Here's one that's going to tug on your heart strings for sure... a way-better imagining of Dean's 40th birthday. Enjoy.  -- Jennie

Sam was in town on a supply run when he saw it in the window of the store he was passing by. 

He stopped in his tracks, staring at it for a few minutes before a silly, somewhat mischievous smile slowly spread across his face. He brushed a hand through his hair as he contemplated whether he should seriously consider the idea or just keep walking. 

The more he thought about it, the more his plan appealed to him. Tomorrow was Dean’s birthday. They didn’t usually make a big deal out of birthdays, but this was his big brother’s big four-o.

“Screw it!” Sam muttered and went in to buy it. It was just too perfect.

Once he got home, Sam took the groceries he’d gotten into the kitchen to put away. He scoped out where Dean was, down in the shooting range, and quickly snuck the gift into his own room and hid it. 

For his plan to work, Sam realized he was going to need help. Luckily, he knew just who to enlist. He paused in the hallway to listen for any sign that Dean was near, but the faint sound of shots being fired reassured him that his brother was still busy. He quickly walked down the hall and knocked softly on a door. “Cas? It’s Sam. Do you have a minute?” He slowly opened the door and looked in.

Cas was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, reading a book. He was still fully dressed, including shoes and trench coat. The Winchesters had given up on trying to convince him he could be more casual at home. The idea seemed to just confuse the angel. 

He raised his head as Sam walked in and carefully put down the book he was perusing, giving the younger Winchester his full attention in that intense way that was so Castiel.

“Of course, Sam,” he answered in his serious, deep tone, “You know I always have time for you or Dean. What can I do for you?”

Sam combed his fingers through his hair as he contemplated the best way to explain what he needed. “Well, tomorrow is Dean’s birthday. I got a present for him, but I need your help to pull off the surprise.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “I didn’t think you celebrated birthdays. I’ve never seen you.”

Sam threw him a sheepish look. “Yeah, no, we usually don’t, but since we’re home and have the time, I just thought… it’s his fortieth, so why not do something special?”

“Is there some significance to the fortieth birthday?” Cas raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Does it have something to do with biblical numerology?”

Sam didn’t have time to explain to his very literal friend that 40 was the start of over-the-hill, and he knew Dean could show up any minute, so he just went with it. “Yeah, sure. The point is, I need you to distract Dean so I can set up his gift.”

Cas raised an eyebrow again. “What did you get him?”

Sam explained what he bought and what needed to be done.

“It was my understanding that that’s a gift for a child,” Cas noted, squinting slightly in puzzlement.

“Well,” Sam replied with a smirk, “This is Dean we’re talking about.”

Cas’s lips twitched in amusement. “Point taken. How can I help?”

Sam proceeded to lay out his strategy, emphasizing the need to keep his brother out of the main rooms of the bunker for a couple of hours and reminding his friend to not mention anything about it being Dean’s birthday. “I’ll set it up tonight,” Sam said. “You just keep him busy tomorrow. OK?”

The angel assured the young hunter that he would do his best to facilitate his planned surprise and was looking forward to seeing how it turned out.

Sam thanked him and slid out of the room to get dinner set up, reviewing in his mind just what to say to get Dean to follow where he was leading.

Later, as Cas and the brothers sat at the kitchen table, finishing up the fried chicken Sam had picked up earlier, Sam cleared his throat and said in the most nonchalant way he could: “Oh, Dean? The truck was running a little rough today. Do you think you could take a look at it tomorrow?”

Dean, being Dean, rolled his eyes and spent the next few minutes making snarky comments on his brother’s lack of motor vehicle know-how. But, in the end, he agreed.

“Sure, Princess, I’ll look at it in the morning.”

Sam shot a glance at Cas to prompt the angel, cuing him to play his part.

It took Cas a moment to get the message, but he finally spoke up. “Dean, would it be all right if I assisted you? I’d like to learn more about automotive care and maintenance.”

The elder Winchester gave the angel a quirky smile and answered, “Sure, Cas. It’ll be nice to have the company.” Glancing at his little brother, Dean couldn’t help but add, “Lord knows someone else in this family should know their way around a car engine!”

Sam dutifully rolled his eyes in exasperation at the jibe, but he secretly was pleased that the first phase of his plan was in place.

Later that night, in his room, Sam pulled the package out of its hiding place. He grabbed the instructions and read them thoroughly, so he would be completely prepared. He wanted everything to go perfectly -- something that rarely happened in the Winchesters’ lives.

The next morning, after breakfast, Dean grabbed Cas by his trench-coated sleeve and dragged him to the bunker’s garage to, as he said, “show him how it’s done.”

Sam waited 15 or 20 minutes, to be sure Dean wasn’t going to come back in, then went to his room to grab the gift. He carried it out to the war room and set it on the map table. After reading the instructions one more time, he got to work. Carefully unpacking all the pieces and arranging them in an orderly way, Sam started meticulously assembling them, not even realizing he was softly humming “Highway To Hell.”

An hour and a half later, after a few missteps, rereading of the instructions and rearranging of the pieces, Sam was mumbling some curses and wondering how parents managed to keep their sanity -- but it was finally done, and just the way he wanted it. With a sigh of relief, Sam inserted the necessary batteries, got the green cooler and filled it with ice and beers and, after checking one more time that everything was just right, sent a text to Cas that he was ready.

A few minutes later, Sam heard his brother and the angel walk into the kitchen. He positioned his 6-foot-4 body in the archway between the kitchen and the war room to block what was waiting behind him. He put on a minor bitchface so he wouldn’t give the surprise away.

Dean walked up the steps, putting his green plaid flannel overshirt back on as he continued his conversation with Cas.

“I can’t believe you don’t know the difference between gasoline and motor oil! I mean, really! How have you managed to drive a car all these years?”

The patient angel answered in his most patient and put-upon voice, “They have the same molecular base, Dean. And I’ve managed quite well, thank you!”

Dean came to an abrupt stop when he noticed his little brother’s formidable body standing with arms crossed. Sam had a stern look on his face. Eyes squinting and darting left and right, Dean wondered what he had done to aggravate Sam this time.

“What’s your problem? If your laptop is frozen again, it wasn’t me!” Dean said defensively.

Sam held his pose for a few ticks more before letting his arms drop and a big smile spread across his face. With a twinkle in his eyes, he said, “Happy birthday, Dean!” and stepped aside so his brother could see his gift.

After shooting a suspicious look at his brother, Dean looked into the war room and gave a small gasp. There, laid out all over the map table, was a slot car track that wound around the whole length of the surface with hills and curves and loops. Not believing his eyes, he stumbled closer to make sure it was real. “What is this, Sammy?” Dean asked softly. “It’s awesome!”

As Cas walked in to see the finished product, Sam’s smile got even bigger. “What does it look like, Dean? It’s your birthday present!”

Dean reluctantly tore his eyes away from the track to gaze with open wonder at his brother. “You… you did all this? For me?” he stammered.

Unable to take the raw emotion he saw in his big brother’s green eyes, Sam walked over to the table and picked up the two slot cars he had purchased. He held them out for Dean to choose one, looked at him and said the line he’d been dying to say since he saw the kit in the hobby shop window:  “What do you say, Dean? Want to race around the world?”

Dean took in the length of the map table and groaned theatrically at the lame joke. He strode over to look at the cars Sam was holding, his eyes getting bigger and a smile breaking out on his face like the sun rising. Glancing between the two cars, which looked even smaller in his brother’s humongous hands, Dean grabbed one. “No way!”

Sam looked fondly at his brother. He’d known Dean would pick the black ’79 Trans Am Firebird, leaving him with the bright red ’68 Camaro. As Sam walked over to the controls, he watched with delight as Dean inspected every detail of his chosen prize.

“Ready to get your ass whipped, old man?” Sam challenged.

Dean looked up with fire in his eyes. “In your dreams, little brother!”

Cas watched as the two Winchesters set their cars on the track and checked out their control sticks. Judging by the fact that Dean looked more like he was 4 than 40, Cas guessed that Sam’s surprise was a success. 

But then again, Sam was looking just as young and excited as his brother. A small smile came to the angel’s lips to see them both so happy. It was a rare occasion for the brothers in the past few years. After all the pain, suffering and ceaseless battling they had seen in their lives, it was a wonder that they could still get such joy from something so simple.

As the two placed their cars in the starting positions, Dean looked up at his brother with undisguised excitement and hidden love and issued his challenge: “Eat my dust, bitch!”

Sam returned the look equally and replied, “It’s on, jerk!” 

The race started, and Sam laughed out loud when Dean started humming the theme song from “Smokey and the Bandit” under his breath. Yeah, he knew which car his movie-loving brother would pick!

For the next few hours the bunker rang with curses and laughter and the whining sound of the slot cars racing around the world. As Cas handed the boys beers when they asked, he couldn’t help thinking that this was how his two friends, his two brothers, should always be. And when Sam offered the angel a turn at the controls, he was happy to join in, not even minding all the disparaging comments that Dean made at his stuttering attempts to master the art of slot car racing. He was home and with his family.

Finally, the Winchesters called a break for some food. But before Sam could take a step toward the kitchen, Dean grabbed him in an unexpected hug, fisting his hands into the back of his brother’s shirt and leaning his chin on his shoulder before saying in a broken but still happy voice, “Thank you… bitch.”

Sam rubbed his brother’s back soothingly and smiled softly, his hazel eyes watering up just a bit. “Happy birthday… jerk.”