This fic is in honor of the amazing character who has been brought to life by Jensen Ackles...but who also lives in our hearts. Thank you Dean for teaching us so much about selfless love, true brotherhood, and sacrificing everything for what's right. Showing us the humility it takes to be a hero, how to always keep fighting...what it's like to fall so far and yet rise back up to the greatest of heights. But most of all thank you for teaching us what it is to be WINCHESTER.

Chapter 2.

Sam wanted to get desert but Dean insisted that he had something in mind, and since it was his birthday he got to pick. After generously tipping Chelssie, and Dean draining the last of his birthday vintage wine they head out. As they walk past the bathrooms a small body collides with Dean's out of no where and Sam is shocked to see the old man from the VIP seating area sprawled on the floor with Dean gently dragging him back to his feet.

"I am SO sorry sir," Dean says, blushing.

"You're fine, young man." He returns in soft breathy tones, "No harm done."

"Are you alright?" Sam asks, looking over the frail body with critical eyes.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." He reassures, bright eyes taking in the both of them.

"I'm sorry again," Dean says, as he and Sam drift towards the door.

"Happy birthday," Sam barely hears as they step out into the open air.

The valet was there with the impala and opens the door for Dean.

"Many happy returns, sir," he says smiling, just as he closes the door.

Dean heaves a sigh of satisfaction as he runs his hands down Baby's wheel, he reaches over and to Sam's absolute surprise left a local radio playing.

"Thanks Sammy, that was great." A genuine content Dean Winchester smile was on Dean's face across from Sam, and the youngest Winchester was completely happy, if not somewhat satisfied with himself.

"Well, it IS your birthday so I guess..."

"Shut up," Dean says without any heat.

"Where are we going now?" Sam asks, as they peel out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

"It's a surprise, Sam, hold your horses." Dean admonishes smiling over having the upper hand...finally.

Sam sighs in mock irritation.

"How full are you?" Dean questions, cruising down the road, unconsciously looking awesome in his car to all passerbys.

"Pretty stuffed, why?" Sam asks, peering curiously at Dean.

"Got some time to blow then?"

"Sure, what do you want to do?" Sam asks, looking over his shoulder, checking out their surroundings.

"Let's see..."Dean looks around appraisingly, "Bowling, skating, or, ohhh...a wine and design!"

Sam raises his eyebrows, "You know what a wine and design is?"

Dean gives him a ruffled eye roll, "Of course, I know what a wine and design is."

"Seriously Dean, what're we going to do?"

"There's a designer dress store, Samantha, right up your alley." He laughs as Sam reaches to punch his arm. Much to Sam's annoyance Dean pulls up and parks beside the dress store and gets out. Sam follows and Dean carefully locks the car's doors.

"Be back, Baby," he coos, and runs his hand all the way down her side to the trunk.

He and Sam stroll aimlessly down the sidewalk, looking in the stores and Sam was shocked as he watched his brother peering through windows and discussing the necessity or stupidity of an item.

"Are we...window shopping?" He asks, wincing even as the words came out of his mouth.

"Don't you like just walking down streets looking through the windows?" Dean asks, smiling oddly at Sam.

"Yes, but, you?" Sam looks completely confused.

Dean laughs.

"Seems like lots of stuff you don't know about me, Sammy."

"You mean this is another one of your traditions?" Sam asks, smiling.

"Absolutely, window shopping is a must do." Dean responds, an entirely sincere grin on his face.

"Why?" Sam asks, deciding just to get it out there. Dean seems in a good mood.

Dean shrugs, "Makes me feel safe." A content smile replacing the grin.

"Safe?" Sam is incredulous.

...

"What the hell?" Dean asks, looking around.

Sam turns in circles too, taking in the new surroundings.

"We just got zapped somewhere," Dean says, matter-of-factly.

"Are we..." Sam's eyes slide to mere slits and he looks around carefully again, "Is this...Palo Alto?"

Dean looks around again too. The nicely paved streets with old buildings reaching towards the sky, old trees growing up from the sidewalk, all the young people bustling down the streets with back backs or bags...just like any city close to a major university. Dean resognizes this place. He groans, and face plants in his hand.

"Follow me," he says gruffly and takes off. Sam has no choice but to obey.

Dean leads the way striding along the downtown paved sidewalk ignoring all that walk by. But Sam notices how no one looks at them, and everything feels strangely familiar, like deja vu familiar.

"Dean...what's going on?" He instinctively seeks out Dean to explain away the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"Just wait Sam, I've got a theory." Dean says, and throws back a stretched smile.

As they walk in silence Sam begins to recognize the street their walking on and is just thinking that he used to work somewhere right around here when Dean suddenly stops. He peers through the big glass windows of a store and Sam is staring at the sign above the door shocked.

Alfonzo's Italian Cuisine.

How did they end up here and further more why did Dean stop and stare through this particular window?

"Yep," Dean says with almost pleased finality, "I'm right."

"What?" Sam asks, "What are you staring at?"

"That," Dean answers, pulling Sam over by the edge of his jacket and practically pushes his face into the glass.

Sam gasps, because just on the other side of the window, cleaning tables is...Sam.

But not like him, Sam, the old Sam, college Sam.

"What the...?" he whispers, watching the young man with fascination just like Dean.

"Lookee there Sammy," Dean says fondly, "Its the good ol' college DICK."

Sam shoots him a sour look, "But why, what happened? I mean c'mon, the is bizarre even for us. Dean, I don't understand, I mean nothing ever happened on this street I..."

Suddenly Dean got that look, that look when Dean Winchester started thinking, the cogs started turning and his brain seem to go into overdrive, like it was trying to make for lost time. Sam chuckles to himself.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean says under his breath and then he's crossing the street like a strike of lightening, and Sam is trying to keep up.

"Dean, what are yo...Dean wait up!"

He nearly runs into his brother as he stops suddenly and then begins to walk faster towards a small bookshop just a little off centered with the Italian Cuisine.

Dean stops in front of it and peers through this window again.

"Bingo," he whispers softly, and his eyes take on a dewy remembering look.

Sam is afraid. He knows what he suspects he'll see, but he really hopes he doesn't. He had given thought to his brother's birthdays while he was at school. What did he do, who was he with, was he alone? And as messed up as it was Sam had intentionally stopped thinking about it after so long because it hurt, and it made him feel guilty. Because as Sam has asked before, what really makes the man who is his brother?

So Sam looks through the window and sees who he expects to see. A twenty-something year-old Dean Winchester seated at a window table eyes drifting between the little Italian restaurant and a laptop and notebook sitting on the table in front of him. Sam feels the tears well up in his eyes, and as much as he wants to believe Dean would never sit across the street from him and watch over him without making himself known he knows this is exactly what happened.

"We've gone back in time," Dean says, and then looks around suspiciously, "It must have something to do with my birthday."

"What? Why would you think that?" Sam asks, starting to get an idea and hoping beyond hope he was wrong.

"I remember this day," Dean says slowly, "January twenty-fourth, 2003." He leans against the brick wall and turns his eyes on Sam. "I spent the entire day sitting here watching you Sammy." He smiles sadly, "It was a good day."

"Dean, why didn't you say something, why didn't you come in and talk to me? I always thought about you on your birthday." Sam asks, desperate, seeing the hurt that had been raw all those years ago.

"I wanted to, I just..."

But Dean is cut off when younger Dean jumps out of his chair and slams through the bookstore door, the brothers turn just in time to see college Sam walk out of Alfonzo's with a backpack on his shoulder. Sam watches with bated breath as young Dean raises a hand and opens his mouth to shout after him. But then his younger self is smiling and waving at someone, they greet each other with a hand shake and pull each other into a hug. Sam grounds his teeth when he realizes it's Brad, the demon possessed boy who introduced him to Jess.

He watches helplessly as younger Dean shuts his mouth with an audible snap, and pulls his hand back like he's been burned. He sees that resigned look on his brother's face, the I-can-sacrifice-for-Sammy face. Dean decides that Sam's want for normalcy was more important than his own happiness. He watches as college Sam walks away, the sigh echoes through Sam's ears and young Dean looks content as he gets one last look at Sam's disappearing mop of brown hair.

Younger Dean walks back into the bookstore, packs up his stuff and they follow him around the corner where he tosses his messenger bag into the passenger seat, and rubs an affectionate hand over the impala's hood.

"Well, he's still safe, baby."

As this version of Dean climbs into the impala and drives away rather subdued, Sam is left blinking, beside HIS brother.

"What the hell is this about, why this day? Why this particular birthday?" Sam asks, more than a little annoyed at the emotionally traumatic experience.

Dean laughs, all be it a little nervously, "The window-shopping tradition, I didn't even realize it, but this must have been where it started."

"What do you mean?" Sam asks, following as Dean starts strolling down the street.

"I mean," Dean reasons, "That...rumor had it you worked on this street, so on my twenty-fourth birthday I rode up here and walked the streets..."

Sam nods with understanding and finishes for him, "And looked through all the windows trying to find where I worked."

Dean nods and laughed again, "You learn something new about yourself every day."

Sam laughs and was unable to pass up the opportunity to tease his brother, "You went window shopping for me, dude.

"Shut up."

...

As though released from a spell Dean and Sam found themselves back in the present on the sidewalk where they had last been. Sam checked his watch, no time had passed, everything looked as if they had just blinked.

"How long you guess?" Dean asks, as if going back in time to his past birthdays was an everyday occurrence.

"No more than twenty minutes, at the most," Sam answers.

Dean groans, "Why does it always happen to us," he whines, "And why on MY birthday, couldn't it just wait till May?" He complains, as they kept going down the street.

Sam bitch-faced him on principle, but he knew they both checked to make sure their silver knives were in place, he also knew Dean was reassured by the knowledge that one breast pocket of his jacket held a loose handful of salt.

They kept walking.

"What do you think it is?" Sam questions his older brother.

"Not a clue."

"Must a had something to do with the whole tradition thing, don't ya' think?"

"Not a clue."

"We must have triggered it somehow, it seems harmless enough, huh?"

"Not a clue."

"Dean."

"Sam."

"Stop ignoring me."

"Stop asking me questions I don't know the answers to."

"Okay," Sam concedes. "Does it feel like a trickster to you?"

"Nah, doesn't feel like that dick."

"I don't mean Gabriel," Sam retorts, "He's dead."

Dean snorts, "You really think that pretender is dead, not in our wildest dreams...not even on my birthday." He laughs mirthlessly.

"Dean, that's hardly fair, after all he helped stop the apocalypse." Sam reasons, smiling, knowing his brother is just being disagreeable.

"No, all he did was to help us come up with an efficient suicide plan for you Sam, and do not tell me for a second that he was trying to be helpful. Like usual he was just amused that we were screwing his brothers up, we were just little weapons in his big war against his family."

Sam is surprised by the heat and bitterness in Dean's tone, he decides to make no comment though.

"Well, what do you want to do?" He asks instead.

"Let's keep our eyes out for now," Dean says, "There's nothing we can do without more information.

"Alright," Sam agrees, "But let's be careful."

"Yes mother."

After looking through front windows for what felt to Sam hours, he knew he had to get Dean doing something else as he was taking to peering through house windows and in on families.

"Dean, what are you doing," he asks, at first horrified, "You know that's rude, and trespassing?"

"Aw, c'mon Sam, its like a soap opera." Dean laughs. So Sam decides he had best pull Dean back towards bright lights, booze, and women.

"Let's go back to the car, Dean." He says, pulling on Dean's arm and back towards the way they came.

"Why Sam? Woulda' thought this was right up your alley. Something nice and normal."

"But Dean you don't do normal, so this is getting awkward."

Dean gives his own very impressive version of the bitch face.

"Fine lets go," he concedes, and starts down the sidewalk so suddenly Sam is surprised with the ease he just won the argument with.

Dean slows to an easier walk once they walk out of the neighborhood they had wandered into, and crosses the street to the other side.

"What are we doing?" Sam asks.

"Window shopping on this side now," he laughs at Sam's sigh. "C'mon our next stop is just around the corner.

"What stop?"

"The one we're about to make."

"Where are we going?"

"Where we're about to stop."

"What stop?"

"Sam."

"Dean..."

"Look! We're here!" Dean gave an over-done smile to cover up his exasperation.

Dean stopped in front of a...?

tbc...

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