Dean stuck his head out of the window of the Impala, holding his breath against the winter air as it whipped past his face. He slid back into his seat, singing softly to himself, unable to suppress the grin on his face. "Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. It's the greatest day ever, happy birthday to me!" He sang, finishing loudly into Sam's ear.
"God dammit Dean, this is the billionth time today," his brother grumbled from the driver's seat.
"It only comes once a year, you'll live," Dean grinned. "Besides, you can pay me back when it's your birthday."
He shifted his grip on his camera. It was really nice… Mom must have saved some of the money from when John died. They were all surprised he left them what he had, and more so that he had anything to leave. Drunk bastard. It was the second best thing he ever did. The first was leaving in the first place.
Dean rolled down the window the rest of the way.
"Could you not? I'm freezing," Sam complained.
"Quit bitching and drive." Dean leaned out and adjusted the focus.
A man stood near the street light ahead with a violin tucked in the crook of his arm. As the Impala eased to a stop, Dean lifted his camera and snapped a quick picture. Sam pressed his foot to the gas again before Dean could get a better look at his subject. Dean looked down at the screen and realized, to his dismay, that he did not capture the man's face in the frame. He looked back, but the ghostly figure was already gone.