Ketch sat in his chair, hands pressed down on the desktop, controlling his breathing and gritting his teeth, as Dr. Hess paced back and forth behind him.

She held the transcripts of the Winchester bugging in her hands and was reviewing them critically.

"I am quite disappointed in your efforts so far, Mr. Ketch," she intoned. "We placed this wire in order to gain intelligence on the Winchesters, but these results are spotty at best and quite frankly dismal overall."

She rolled the papers into a tight tube and used it to sharply rap the desktop.

"Please explain these results, Mr. Ketch."

He swallowed thickly, took a moment and a deep breath, before answering. "The Winchesters are a unique and, I would say complicated, target to breach. Their communicative style, even between themselves, is -"

"No excuses!" Dr. Hess snapped. "There is nothing complicated or special about the Winchesters! Your listening procedures are obviously substandard."

"Here." He offered her a headset and pointed to a switch. "This is yesterday's recording. May 2nd. I would be most interested to learn what information you are able to glean from it."

With an exasperated huff, she put the headset on and pressed the switch to begin the replay.

* SPN * SPN * SPN *

On the way from bedroom to kitchen, Dean gave a fast glance into the library. Just like he expected, Sam was at the table, already a few hours into research if the scattered books, papers, sticky notes and coffee stains were anything to go by.

Sam didn't look up and Dean didn't say anything. It was Sam's birthday but Dean didn't say anything. They hadn't heard from Mom, despite Dean's frequent, secret phone calls to her in the past few days. So, Sam was glum. Not just depressed – glum.

In the kitchen, Dean made French toast, fresh coffee, and lots of bacon. He loaded up a tray and brought it to the library and set it near Sam.

"Winchester Special."

Sam smiled, tired, sad, but genuine. "Thanks."

Dean patted his shoulder, helped him push the papers and books aside, and served up breakfast.

"Anything?" he asked, nodding to the research, sitting down and taking a bite of French toast.

"Mmmm..." Sam answered with a tip of his head and a mouthful of coffee.

Dean wanted to reassure him that they'd hear from Mom. That she'd remember and realize that it was his birthday. That the day wouldn't turn out as crappy as crappy could be if she didn't call.

But promising that only to have it go bust would be worse than silence.

So, they ate in silence, then, "Done?" and Sam nodded, "Thanks," that was thanks for more than bringing breakfast and cleaning up.

Dean carried the dishes back to the kitchen and set them in the sink and put the tray away. He decided that Sam wasn't going to spend his birthday stuck inside, stuck in a chair, stuck in a book. Today was going to be a good day for Sam. A Very Good Day.

He left the dishes, grabbed Sam's jacket from his room, and went back to the library.

"All right. Let's go."

"Go? Dean – " he gestured at the books and papers and notes he'd pulled around himself again.

"Ahh – nope. C'mon." He tossed Sam's jacket to him and headed for the stairs to the front door and the world beyond. In a few moments, Sam followed behind him.

Dean was going to make sure they didn't get home until the day was over and Sam was happy.

* SPN * SPN * SPN *

Dr. Hess pulled the headset off and stared at it. She handed it back to Ketch.

"Just – keep listening."

She marched off and Ketch put his headset back on. "I'd rather eat glass."

.