Nothing but a Hound Dog - ficlet for Tifaching

[amberdreams]

Fic: Nothing but a Hound Dog
Rating: R for use of the f word
Words: c1300
For  tifaching via hoodietime for the prompt:  Wish 1. One of the consequences of escaping the cage is that Sam's a big scary hellhound (who loves the one remaining member of his pack and is constantly all up in Dean's space) one week out of every month. Dean deals with this as well as he can (which isn't very well). Gen, please.

It was the smell that woke him; except he knew he was still asleep because it was over two, no, three years since he got out of Hell, so that sulphur, brimstone and old blood odour had to be in his head, right?

Wrong.

His eyes flew open and he looked around the motel room, fighting down the left over panic that threatened to choke him.  His heart was beating too fast and he was gripping the thin sheets as if the worn cotton would shield him from whatever was in that room.  Because there was something there, he was sure of it.  He could smell it.  He scooted up the mattress until his back connected with the wooden headboard, and risked a glance across at the other bed.

The bed that should have contained a snoring giant Sam.

It was empty.

Nothing to worry about, Sam was probably taking a midnight piss.  Or a stroll outside to watch that meteor shower he kept banging on about.  Or gone to get a soda from the machine next to the motel office.  It was fine.  Everything was f…

“Fuck!”  He didn’t mean to yell, but the huff of hot, moist, rank breath that blew into his face took him by surprise.  That was his only excuse for the less than manly way he flailed his arms and legs, kicking out at nothing as he leapt off the bed.  Even in his blind panic, instinct meant that his bowie knife was in his right hand when he landed on his bare feet in a fighting stance  to face…nothing.

The room was empty.  No Sam, no fugly monster.  Just two rumpled beds, a motel-green carpet that was probably once another colour entirely, a table and two chairs…He flinched involuntarily when one of the wooden chairs moved as if something was brushing by it.  Something too big to fit in the narrow gap between the chair and the end of Dean’s bed.  The chair rocked, tipped and crashed to the floor and now Dean’s breath was coming in harsh pants.  He was hot, as if someone had left the aircon switched up to an old person’s idea of warm, even though the room was cold.

He gripped the knife harder, cursing his palms that were sweating.  He backed up slowly, eyes staring wide in an effort to see something, anything, that would give away the position of this invisible foe.  A pointless exercise, as when the thing came at him, the only warning he got was another blast of rancid air in his face before whatever it was knocked him flat on his back.  The knife flew out of his hand along with the breath from his lungs, and he found himself wheezing on the floor while the creature dug its blunt claws into his bare shoulders and slobbered all over his face.

What the ever-loving fuck?

Because Dean recognised this beast now.  How could he not?  After being ripped apart by a couple of them for the enjoyment of Lilith.

Hellhound.

In his experience, this was not normal Hellhound behaviour, to act like some overgrown, over-friendly, hairy-assed invisible Rottweiler puppy on steroids.  The damn thing seemed to be trying to lick him to death, and while he was grateful it wasn’t making him into a chew toy (man was he relieved about that!), being drowned in Hellhound drool was not a good way to die.  After a few anxious moments of ineffectual pushing and shoving, Dean managed to wriggle out from under the hound’s crushing weight – the damned thing must weigh more than Sam – and scrabbled to his feet, breathing hard.

“Speaking of, where the hell is Sam?” he said, rubbing the claw marks the beast had left on his bare chest.

The Hellhound gave an even bigger huff of smelly breath in answer to that question, and then frigging leaned on Dean’s legs, its wiry hide pricking his skin like steel wool.  He really wished he’d gone to bed fully clothed last night.  A pair of boxer-briefs were a poor defence against a denizen of the Pit, even an apparently friendly one. Dean found himself absently feeling for the thing’s big head and scratching behind its floppy ears.  The hound seemed to like that, and gave a kind of groaning moan of ecstasy, leaning even more of its considerable weight on Dean.

Who was coming to a very unwelcome conclusion about this situation.

“Sam?” he said tentatively, testing his theory.

Sure enough, the Hellhound reacted to his name with enthusiasm.  Dean could feel the dog – Sam , oh shit, really? – wagging its rear end wildly. It seemed to have more stump than tail, like a real Rottweiler.  With a yap of excitement, Sam was on the move.  The hound reared up and plonked heavy paws onto Dean’s shoulders, and that was all the warning Dean got before Sam was in his face again with the whole slobber thing.

It was too much.

“Fuck, Sammy, get the hell offa me!  You weigh a ton and you’re fucking soaking me, dammit.”

Dean felt like a complete bastard when Sam whimpered like he’d been kicked, and presumably backed away, as the pressure of the paws disappeared and the tongue action stopped.  Dean wiped a hand over his face, trying to clean off some of the dog-spit.  Even though he now knew this Hellhound was his brother – and how the hell had that happened? – he was still shaking.  He had been torn apart too many times since Lilith sicced her hounds on him and sent him to Hell to be comfortable with being this close to another Hellhound now.  Alastair had been rather fond of his pair of hounds, and had liked to find new and creative ways to use their teeth and claws and eager need to mate.  Dean tried not to remember, but it was hard at the best of times, and now with a Hellhound in their room, he was fighting off a terror that felt absolute.

He forced himself away from the false safety of the wall and gingerly made his way to the bed.  He sat down rather heavily, his legs turned to rubber in the presence of one of his greatest fears.

He could feel Sam’s approach as a radiant heat in the cold room, then the great weight of Sam’s head settled very gently onto his knees where he sat.  Dean barely suppressed a shudder, and Sam sighed, heavy as lead, but kept his head there, not moving, just breathing.

He was waiting for Dean’s heart to stop racing, for his palms to stop sweating, his body to stop trembling with tension.  Dean knew it, but it still took a long time for him to calm down enough to unclench one fist and tentatively place his hand on Sam’s heavy browed head.  Some things never changed, it seemed – dog or human, Sam’s brows were portentous.  Trying not to think about it, Dean scratched at Sam’s bristly fur and listened to his brother whine softly and snuffle with pleasure.

“Aw, shit Sammy, what the hell’s going on here?  Are you stuck like this forever, dude?”

Sam snuffled a bit, then shook his head, ears slapping against Dean’s thighs.  Dean’s heart lifted, just a little.  He’d happily take that as a no, though how Sam the Hellhound would know what had happened, or how long this ‘condition’ would last, Dean had no clue.  He wasn’t entirely sure exactly how much of Sam Winchester was conscious inside the body of the hound, but he was hoping his Sam was in control.

Dean finally began to relax, the imperative to sleep overwhelming the adrenaline impulse to flee.

“Okay then.  I guess I’ll just have to trust you don’t go all Cujo on me…you haven’t stuck your head in any bat caves lately have you?”

Sam snorted, derision clear in the sound, even though Dean couldn’t see his expression.  Dean grinned as he climbed back under the covers.  Even while in invisible dog form, Dean would put money on Sam the Hound being able to roll his eyes as good as Sam the Man.  In fact…

“I bet you are making the best bitch face ever right now, aren’t you Sammy?”

0x0x0x0

Comments

[borgmama1of5.livejournal.com]

I think you really nailed how Dean would react!

[amber1960.livejournal.com]

Thank you! That is very good to know.