Unlike Dean and John, Sam had no memories of doing anything for this particular holiday. Sometimes he'd get annoyed at the other kids in school when he was younger; they'd all be cheerfully chirping away about the upcoming holiday the week before it came around, making cards in class after being instructed to do so by their teachers. Sam wouldn't really say anything about it. He'd sit in place and gloomily draw up a card for a mother that he never knew. It landed in the trash every mother's day that followed, up until he was out of the age group where his teachers actually made him do the stupid card thing. Sam did a pretty good job at avoiding the holiday from that point on. Until now. Now was different. Sam had a bundled up stack of cards already tucked away that he'd worked on over the past few days. One card for every year that he'd neglected to give his mother one. Badly drawn pictures, stuffed with an important memory from the year of which the card was intended to be pulled in from. Sam felt sort of embarrassed about handing them over to her, even if it was the best gift that he could think of giving her. Something personal. It held meaning. Better than a stupid bear and a box of chocolate or something like that.
...he hoped.
Hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, Sam stepped his way out of the house shortly after Dean himself did. He was busy contemplating over the card situation before he caught the expressions on the faces of both men ahead. They were cheerful. Sam didn't blame them one bit. He kind of felt the same way.
Sam offered them both a light smile, arms sliding out to fold over his chest as he fell to a halt just beside his brother. "Hey," he started, voice coming out a bit warmer than usual. "What's going on?"