Author's Note: Happy Birthday Sam! This was written for an awesome prompt on OhSam.

"Every year on your birthday, you get a chance to start new."

—Sammy Haggar

May 2nd, 1993—Age 10

"Happy Birthday, Sammy." Dean greets him with a grin on his face. Sam smiles, feeling pleasantly surprised. They'd just finished moving into a new town in Texas and Sam had been so busy with the move and starting school that he had actually forgotten his own birthday.

"Thanks." He beamed. Seeing Dean's delighted gaze, the youngest Winchester closed his eyes and sniffed. The sweet smell of maple syrup greeted his senses. Eyes widening, he glanced at his older brother. "Pancakes?" They had gone through most of their food money and had been living a few old boxes of macaroni and cheese for the past week. To have pancakes—delicious smelling ones at that—was truly a treat.

"Only the best for you, dude." Dean ruffled his hair. "Besides, you're entering double-digits now!"

"It feels weird." Sam confessed. He'd never been like the kids at school, ready to grow up in a hurry. His life of constantly moving around, of shady stories that never held up, of lies to concerned teachers and parents had taught him to savor those moments in between the madness. Stability—that was Sam's best friend.

"Yeah, well," An odd look entered Dean's eyes, an almost grief stricken one, but as soon as it appeared, it vanished just as quickly. "So, pancakes?"

"Yeah!" Sam hopped out of bed and rushed to the kitchen. A tall stack of fluffy flapjacks greeted him. He grinned and picked up his fork. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.

A stack of ten-dollar bills neatly pilled up, just like their father always left them. The smile dissipated as quickly as it came on as the realization sank in. Their father had come home, only to leave again in the night, without so much as saying hello.

Without wishing Sam a happy birthday.

"Sam—" Big brother that he was, Dean immediately honed in on Sam's quick change of mood.

"Don't." Sam knew what Dean would do—what he always did—and quite frankly, the youngest Winchester did not have it in him to hear another flimsy story about how the hunt was important and sometimes Dad forgot things. Normal dads remembered birthdays. Normal dads wished their sons a happy birthday or at least got them a card if they couldn't be there.

But, as Sam was quickly finding out, he wasn't in a normal family.

"It's still early," Dean began with a hopeful grin. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "He'll call."

"Yeah," Sam whispered, buying the lie, because what else was he supposed to do? This was his life. "I know."

"Good." He motioned to the pancakes. "Get eating. You're skinny enough as it is and we've got so much stuff to do."

Sam's eyebrows rose.

"Like what?" He challenged.

"You'll see." Dean replied cryptically, a devilish smirk alighting on his lips. "Just start eating."

John never called that day.

May 2nd, 1997—Age 14

The steady beeping of the monitor wasn't comforting at all. In fact, it was pretty damn annoying. The monitor was configured for a kid half his age and as his nurse continued to apologize for—every time his breathing supposedly stopped and she came running in—it wasn't used to someone of his age.

"We're working on getting another monitor," She told him with a sympathetic smile as she adjusted the monitor yet again. "So, just hang in there."

It wasn't like he was going to do anything else. He could barely breathe and his mind was in a fog. The nurse—Linda? Maggie?—explained to him that he'd been in a very serious accident. The injury count: three broken ribs, a concussion, numerous hairline fractures and severe blood loss.

Happy Birthday, Sam.

But that wasn't the worst part of it, not by far.

He was alone in the hospital. His attempts to reach Dean and his father had all fallen through and he was having a hard time focusing enough to remember what Bobby's new number was. If he closed his eyes and really though back, all got was a headache.

Why couldn't he remember what happened?

Why weren't Dean or John answering?

"You okay, Sam?" The nurse regarded him with sad eyes, almost as if he was a stray puppy.

"Can I call my brother again?" He rasped, throat parched. She immediately handed him a glass of water and he savored the cool liquid as it cascaded down his throat.

"Sure, honey." She replied. "Let me just get the phone." She leaves, but no before rubbing a comforting circle on his arm, just like a mother would do. Bitter sweetness blooms within his heart. Was him mom like her, a comforting warmth? Or was she more fierce and sassy?

He would never know.

Hours later, Dean staggers in, bloody and battered, but alive. John follows in afterwards, explaining how the hunt went awry, how Sam had to go to the hospital and that silence had to be maintained until the job had been done.

Sam doesn't have the heart—or maybe it's the will—to remind either of two exhausted family members that today is his birthday.

May 2nd, 2004—Age 21

"Oh, baby," Jess muttered, sweat clinging to her brow. "I'm so sorry." She was lying in the ICU, an I.V. giving her much needed fluids. Her lips were chapped; her skin pale and clammy to the touch. She's incredibly yet, Sam can't help but still find her beautiful. That spark in her eyes that drew him to her is still there, though clouded over a bit.

"It's fine." He reassured her, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. The fever still lingered, refusing to break. He's done the bedside vigil a few times before—memories of an unconscious Dean stung as they flooded his mind—but there's something different about sitting here knowing that a simple virus caused this vigil and not some creature that went bump in the night.

Ah, normalcy.

"It's not fine," She whimpered, eyes misting over. "You should be out with Brady, having a few shots." She smirked. "You're 21 now, Sam. You should be having a good time—"

"I am having a good time." He protested.

She glared at him.

"In a hospital?"

He chuckled.

"I'll admit, I wish the surroundings were a bit better—"

"Sam." She interjected and he grinned at her.

"Look, Jess, you're stuck with me today, okay?" He reached for her hand, holding it tightly within his. Truth be told, he's relieved that she's doing better now. His heart nearly stopped beating when he came home back to their apartment and found her unconscious. For a moment, he had actually thought that . . .

That a monster had gotten her.

"You sure?" The medicine made her voice sound so incredibly cute that he did his best to restrain his laughter. He loved this woman, more than he had thought possible.

"I'm sure." He whispered, watching as her eyes fell shut.

"Happy Birthday, baby." She mumbled, barely awake.

And Sam knew in that moment that this was the girl he would marry.

May 2nd, 2010—Age 27

"I've been told," Castiel began, quietly, as he came to stand beside the Impala. Sam lied on the hood, eyes locked on the starry sky. He had to take it all in now because if his plan worked out, he would never see another night sky again. "That today is your birthday."

Sam startled at that. The days had flown by in a flurry of plans and last ditch efforts to stop the Apocalypse. Dean was in denial about what needed to be done, but the youngest Winchester could see the writing on the wall. He knew what needed to be sacrificed and he was more than willing to give it. He just wished that Dean would give his blessing.

He had to do this, to atone for his mistake.

He had to do this to save the world.

"Oh." Sam mumbled, sitting up. "I guess it is. Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair, wondering idly how long it had been since he had been inside. Hadn't Dean said he would get coming to get him in a few minutes?

A package was unceremoniously shoved into his hands.

"I've been told it's customary to give the person celebrating gifts." He gestured to the package vaguely.

"Cas, you didn't have to—" With everything that had been going on, this was the furthest thing from his mind.

"It's probably not a very good gift," The angel confessed with a sheepish smile. "But then again, this is the first time I've given a gift."

"Castiel," Sam's speechless by this small act of kindness. "Thank you." He meant it, from the bottom of his heart.

"Yes, well." He moved in for an awkward hug. Caught back, Sam stumbled but quickly recovered. He allowed himself to enjoy this moment of friendship because it would be one of his last.

"We should head in. See if Dean and Bobby have anything."

"Of course."

They headed towards the house, the small gift held securely in Sam's grasp.

Eight days later, Sam went to Hell.

May 2nd, 2014—Age 31

Things have been so messed up between he and Dean. The whole Gadreel thing, then Kevin and now the Mark of Cain—it was pushing them apart, splintering them in a way that Sam hadn't previously thought. It seemed as if they couldn't get within two feet of each other before they got in an argument.

He opened the bunker door, groceries hanging from his arms and forced himself to go in. He had to believe that he would get through to Dean, that maybe today would be the day that the two of them could overcome the mistakes they had both made. Sam was ready and quite honestly, he missed his big brother.

"Dean?" The lights were out which immediately made the youngest Winchester tense up. The lights being out could point to a number of supernatural creatures and just because the bunker was warded did not mean that they were by any means immune from the creatures. And if something managed to get into the bunker, then it must be powerful and who knows if it had Dean—

"Surprise." With a flicker, light returned and Sam saw his brother, smiling sheepishly as he shyly waited for Sam to take everything in. A banner had been hung, wishing him many happy returns. His favorite chocolate cake was on the counter, still warm and delicious. Even a few presents were out, wrapped in newspaper, which brought a grin to Sam's face.

"Dean, you—" He couldn't believe this was really happening. After being so far apart for so long, this was all they needed to start to reconnect?

"You'll have to go back outside and do that again in an hour," Dean mumbled. "Charlie and Cas went to the mall to pick you up a few things. You came back early."

"You threw me a surprise party?" Sam asked, stunned.

"Well, after 31 years of screwed up birthdays, I figured you deserved a nice one." He chuckled dryly. Then, nervously ran a hand through his hair. "You like it, right?"

"I do." The youngest Winchester answered quickly. "It's just, after everything, I thought—"

"I know." Dean muttered softly. "I guess we both screwed up, huh?"

"We could start over." Sam began, stepping towards his brother.

"I thought we were partners." The words stung a little, but seeing the efforts his brother went through had invigorated him. Dean was there, somewhere under the anger and the grief, his big brother was there. Sam would toss him a lifeline, just like his older brother had done so many times for him. He wouldn't let him drown in this storm.

"We're brothers too." He meant it, every word.

"I don't know what to do, Sam." Dean confessed, voice breaking. "The Mark . . . it makes me want to kill. I can't stop it." A wild hunger entered Dean's gaze. "I need the First Blade, but if I get it, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from killing everything." That was Dean's fear, deep down. Sam understood it—felt it so many years before with the visions and the demon blood. Dean had saved him then.

Now, it was Sam's turn.

"I'll stop you." It was a vow.

"Yeah?" Dean needed the reassurance.

"You know I will."

"You and me against the world?" Sam placed a strong hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Always."

A car pulled up and Dean seemingly snapped out of his vulnerable state. Charlie and Castiel were back and this moment was clearly over. Still, Sam could tell, they had made progress. Things weren't fixed, not completely, but they were heading in the right direction. After struggling for weeks, it felt nice to reconnect.

"Happy Birthday, Sammy." Dean told him, pulling him into a tight hug. Letting go, he pushed Sam's towards the other door. "Go on. Before they see you." He smirked. "Charlie will kick my ass if she finds out the surprise is ruined."

"I'm going." He didn't move; he just took in his brother and it gave him a reason to keep fighting. Dean was there—he just needed a lifeline.

Sam could save him.

No, Sam would save him.

And when he walked in an hour later, pretending to be surprised once more, Sam realized it was the best birthday of his life.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed. Review if you have a second!