A/N: Thank you to all the readers and reviewers! The better the response and the more reviews, the more motivated I will be for quick updates! (hint) ")

Disclaimer: All Credit to Kripke and Crew!

Destiny and history are untidy.

~Djuna Barnes

Chapter 3

Dean fell on his back breathless and dazed, opening his eyes to the barrel of a gun.

"Who are you and what do you want?" John demanded.

Dean looked up into his father's young face. In this moment the son could see the warrior and battle hardened father present even before the influence of hunting and the nightmare of Azazel. Dean noticed something else, too. John didn't recognize him. Michael must have wiped away all previous memories of Dean's trips back in time. This might make things easier, actually, but it hurt Dean in an indescribable way to have his father's unknowing stare beat down on him. Dean wanted to reach out and touch and speak to his father from beyond the grave, thank him, make up for the exchanging of his own life for Dean's. But Dean couldn't speak to his father; he could only address John Winchester, former marine, newlywed and stranger.

"I said, WHO ARE YOU?" John shouted.

Dean jerked to attention at his Dad's tone. "Dean," he obeyed the command instinctually. It was eerie how the old habit died hard. Neither the span of years nor even the great chasm of death could change it: he still obeyed his father.

"Why did you attack me?" The gun was still trained on Dean's form.

"Uh, maybe because you drew a gun on me?" Dean retorted.

"You were gonna hijack my ride."

Dean smirked at that. "Actually, I was gonna see if you needed help. I'm handy with cars."

John narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Mechanic, huh? From the way you disarmed me there, I'd say more likely Special Forces."

Laughing at the irony of the comment Dean said, "Well, yes, I've had some training…from the best," he threw up a glance at his Dad, "and my work is kind of…specialized. But I'm also handy with cars." Dean added.

Contemplating what the man on the ground said, John lowered his gun.

"What are you doing out here on the highway in the middle of the night?"

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again, trying to come up with a believable answer.

"I'm off regular assignment for a spell, and I…um…"

"Just wandering until you go back into action?"

Dean nodded, "Time kinda got away from me…" He felt an unintentional smirk play across his lips.

John helped Dean off the ground and watched quietly as Dean brushed off his clothes.

"Nice jacket," John commented approvingly.

"Haha…yeah," Dean agreed as he saw his father was wearing the exact same leather coat—minus a few decades' wear.

"So how'd you end up out here at this time of night?" His father asked again.

"Well, I've been using less than standard modes of travel. You never know where or when you might get dropped off," Dean answered with meaningful emphasis.

John assumed Dean meant hitchhiking. "Well, if you can help get this baby running again," he patted the top of the Impala, "I can give you a lift. Unfortunately, there aren't any motels in between here and where I'm going, but I think I could put up a fellow soldier for the night."

Dean regarded his father with wonder. John Winchester was going to welcome a stranger (and a strange stranger at that) into his home. The John he knew would never have shown that kind of trust or good will.

"Sure," Dean croaked, attempting to mask the emotion grabbing at his throat. "Let's see here."

Dean knew the Impala inside out. At this juncture he had more experience working on it than his Dad. He showed John what was wrong and how to fix it, earning the other man's respect. Dean shook his head when he realized his father had shown him how to do that, yet Dean was now showing his father how to do it in the past, so that meant in the future….he shook his head again. He'd leave that conundrum to Sammy.

The drive to the Winchester home was an interesting one to say the least. John seemed to sense the heavy weight and dark history of the man in the passenger seat, and didn't ask any questions. He simply cranked up the tunes and the men lost themselves in the music's power chords.

My Dad's kind of awesome, Dean thought. He almost forgot the tangled web of fate that had brought him here and he relaxed into the familiarity of the music, the car and…the company? Yes, the company, too. No matter when or where, his Dad as well as the aspect of his surroundings served to grant a sense of security long forgotten.

He awoke when the car stopped in the driveway. When had he fallen asleep? He must have been more tired than he thought. Angel transport, walking for three hours and grappling with your deceased yet soon to be Dad will do that to a guy.

"We're here," John stated. Dean looked up to the house and squinted at the porch light. He could see the figure of a woman through the screen door. He blinked and regarded the outline again. It was Mary Winchester, his mother, and he could clearly see the silhouette of her rounded stomach. Castiel's words resounded in his head,

"Now it is time I showed you your purpose, designed while you were being formed in your mother's womb."