It's a Dog's Life - Part 2
Oct. 16th, 2013 03:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amberdreamsBack to Part one
Dean wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow he’d ended up with a nice new leather and metal-studded collar, with an engraved brass tag saying “Sirius”. It appeared that his dog-self was a push-over if offered a nice warm blanket to sleep on, a plate of some anonymous meat in anonymous gravy and a good belly scratch. Once the two humans had agreed to keep the dog, Sam had gone out again, leaving Dean with Jess, and come back with the collar and a lead in a Wallmart bag. Dean had allowed his brother to fasten on the collar, agreeing with Sam’s comment that it would make Dean less obviously a stray. Dean was a fan of being inconspicuous.
He eyed the lead with suspicion, however, resolving that no one, brother or not, would be dragging him round on the end of that.
He had some pride, after all.
Or that was what he told himself until Sam and Jess took him to the park after breakfast the following day.
What could he say? Frisbee catching was just addictive. And he was fucking awesome at it. Sam had a great throwing arm, naturally, having been trained for years by his big brother, but Dean was a match for anything Sam could (literally) throw at him. Dean completely lost track of time, leaping and running and twisting acrobatically after the grey plastic disc. It was probably red or orange in real life, but right now, canine colour blindness was so far down Dean’s list of interesting facts it barely figured at all. The sun was shining, Sam and his pretty girl were laughing and Dean had a Frisbee to kill.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this happy.
Sadly, Dean’s appetite for Frisbee-chasing outlasted both Sam’s and Jessica’s. Dean was finding that humans had such short attention spans when it came to the important stuff. Fortunately, he could amuse himself while Sam was busy sticking his tongue down Jess’ throat, something Dean heartily approved of and had never thought to see his little brother doing so enthusiastically. Dean had caught the delicious scent of lady-dog and was happy to find his charms were just as irresistible to the female dog population as his human self had been to the chicks. If he had taken a moment to think about it, perhaps he might have hesitated but thought was the first thing to exit from his head when the rich warm smell of a bitch in heat wafted past his quivering nostrils.
The huge disadvantage of his collar was that it allowed Sam to get a much better grip on him and to Dean’s chagrin, Sam had no trouble at all in forcing coitus interruptus on Dean and his new bitch-friend, whose owner seemed to be suffering from apoplexy. Come on lady, it’s a beautiful natural act and my babies would be awesome, I mean just look at me. Such a fucking handsome devil…
Sam was less than impressed with Sirius’ sexual exploits, however, and had the lead clipped to Dean’s collar before he realised what was going on. Freaking cockblocker. Sam half dragged, half carried a protesting Dean back to the rug where Jessica was sitting, helpless with laughter.
“You can’t really blame him, Sam, he was only following his master’s example!”
Dean grinned as Sam flushed deep red, but any amusement was soon crushed by Sam’s next casual remark.
“You know, if we are gong to keep him, Jess, we probably need to get him neutered.”
Dean pulled on his lead and howled. He kept up his vocal complaint until Sam finally gave in and vowed that Sirius’ nuts were safe from butchery. He then got his revenge by dragging Sam around while he marked up every tree he could find before they left the park, just to make a point. You don’t get away with cockblocking Dean Winchester and then threatening his joy-sack without any consequences, brother or no.
It was a truth universally acknowledged that most dogs don’t like demons. Cats on the other hand, couldn’t give a damn one way or another, hence most witches preferred to use cats as familiars, though in theory any animal would serve their purpose. A dog would freak out where a cat would take it in their stride.
Brady was therefore distinctly put out to find that a dog seemed to have taken up residence in Sam and Jessica’s apartment just days before his plans would come to fruition. Though from its reaction to him, the dog was possibly even more put out than Brady. The stupid thing was growling from the moment Brady stepped through the door.
It advanced on him, stiff legged and hackles raised, like it thought it was some sort of Hell hound, which was, Brady knew from personal experience, laughable. Brady only just managed not to kick the creature in the ribs, realising that such an action might be correctly construed as him not giving a shit. Sam was a bit slow in realising his pet wasn’t behaving all that well, so the mutt was in severe danger of having its neck snapped before Winchester finally got with the programme. Sam leapt forward and grabbed its collar, manhandling the snarling, snapping dog into their bedroom and locking it in.
It was a good half an hour before the stupid mongrel stopped barking its futile protests at the closed door.
“Well, that was fun.”
Brady did a little snarling of his own. He was entitled, he thought, as he brushed off Jessica’s apologies, Sam’s puzzled strange, he hasn’t reacted like that before comments. Brady consoled himself with fantasies of what he was going to do to the mangy mutt if it was unwise enough to be here when he came for Jess the night after All Saints eve. He smiled at Jess and relaxed, enjoying warm thoughts about how she was going to look as he was sliding the knife into her belly.
“So. Anyone up for pre party drinks?” he said.
Dean was frantic. Sam and his girl were out there with that, that…thing, and he was helpless. Trapped. Trapped in this room and trapped in this body and he didn’t know what to do. He whined, scratched at the closed door and cursed that fucking witch. The door wasn’t even locked; didn’t have to be because Dean couldn’t turn the round handle with these stupid fucking useless paws, couldn’t break the door down with this too small, useless body, couldn’t fucking do anything except…
Except Sam or Jess had left the window open.
Dean padded over to the casement, stuck his nose into the crack and shoved with his head and then with his shoulders until the sash gave and opened wide enough for him to fit through. He looked down and winced. It was only two stories, but there was nothing to break his fall but a few shrubs. He bared his teeth and wished the witch had made him a cat.
He could hear the low rumble of Sam’s voice from the living room, calling the guy Brady, though Jess then called him Tyson so… then the guy, who Dean was sure wasn’t human, said something about going for a drink. Dean’s muscles tensed and he readied himself to jump, then he heard Sam refusing, too much studying to do, yadda yadda, and then there was Jess agreeing with Sam, and Brady making some remarks about too much work making them dull - which might have been something Dean would have said in another time or place, but right now, Dean was just happy that the guy was leaving, and that both his people were staying here, safe, with him.
Dean watched Tyson Brady stroll out of the apartment block towards the black truck, and wondered why his dog senses hadn’t picked up on the blond guy’s wrongness the day before, when he’d hitched his ride on the dude’s flatbed. Maybe the metal had shielded the abnormality from Dean, or he just hadn’t gotten close enough to catch that stench of sulphur and decay that had hit him today the minute the creature walked through the door. Before Brady swung himself into the driver’s seat, the guy paused and looked up, straight at Dean, like he knew he was being watched. Dean growled involuntarily, an atavistic reaction.
He had no idea what sort of monster Brady was, but Dean was certain of one thing. Tyson Brady was not human, and whatever he was, it was doubtful his intentions were benign.
Dean watched out of the open window until he was certain Brady had really driven away, then he turned and looked around the room. Evil sons of bitches aside, now the immediate danger had passed Dean was finding Sam’s bed very attractive right now. He could hear Sam and Jess conversing in low tones in the main room, discussing his behaviour, and he snorted when Jess suggested Sirius had probably just been defending his territory. Too right he would defend, but it wasn’t territory he was worried about, it was his family. His pack.
And he’d die before he let anyone – or anything – hurt either of them.
That miserable mutt was an unforeseen and irritating complication, Brady thought. His hips pistonned brutally hard as he fucked the soft skinned Freshman he’d picked up in the bar. He gripped the boy’s hips tighter, uncaring about the pained moans that were being punched out with every thrust. Brady wasn’t here to give pleasure or satisfaction to anyone. In fact, he’d found during this stint topside that it really helped him concentrate on a problem if he was doling out at least a small measure of pain while he was thinking things through. Brady was an equal opportunities sort of demon, it didn’t matter whether his victim was male or female as long as Brady got his rocks off in a tight wet hole.
And it worked for him every time. As he climaxed and filled the squealing kid up with spunk, the most elegant solution came to him. He could use the damned dog to get Sam out of the way on the 2nd of November, and effectively kill two birds with one stone. Almost literally. Well, one dog and one girlfriend, which was miles better than birds.
Smiling, he pulled out of Freshman, who wasn’t looking so fresh now, to be honest, his pretty face smeared with tears and snot, and his pretty butt all red raw from the pummelling Brady had just delivered. He gave the boy’s ass a hearty slap and grinned to see how the kid flinched and tugged against the restraints they’d been using. Kind of reminded Brady of home. Pity he couldn’t have pulled out a few fingernails or teeth while he was at it, but he couldn’t jeopardise the mission, not when he was so close to the pay off. He had to be satisfied with watching the kid’s abused hole clenching as it vainly tried to stop the slick semen sliding out, the white fluid streaked with blood because, oh dear, had Brady forgotten to use a condom and lube? He slid a finger inside again just to make Freshman wince.
“Ah well, we have to take what little pleasure we can in the short time we are in this world, eh, Matt?” Brady said to Freshman’s upturned butt. The kid’s face, where it peeked out from the pillow it had been mashed into for the last hour or so, looked a bit shocked.
“It’s Marc,” Freshman said, indignant, and Brady couldn’t help laughing. The idea that the kid gets painfully fucked six ways from Sunday and ends up more bothered that the guy who fucked him can’t remember his waste-of-space name was very amusing. He couldn’t resist shoving a couple more fingers into the kid, smiling when Matt squirmed and gasped.
“I like you, kid. Matt. What a pity I don’t have more time to take you apart, piece by piece. I’d like to see what you are really made of… but duty calls.” Brady glanced at the clock and withdrew his fingers from Matt’s hole with a wet plop, wiping them clean on the boy’s quivering thigh. “Today is Halloween, and there are parties to go to; then tomorrow is a day of rest before the fun begins. I’m so looking forward to a very special anniversary on Monday.”
Brady briefly considered leaving the kid tied up. Maybe he could come back and have another go at him after the fancy dress party tonight. A few hours trussed up and Brady was sure Matt would cry and beg very nicely… but no. Now was not the time for side orders, not when the main dish was about to be served. Brady knew where to find the kid any way, and after his mission was accomplished, there would be no need to restrain himself any more.
Little Matt could be a delicious desert after he’d finished with Jessica Moore. But now, it was party time.
Sam wasn’t wholly convinced by Jess’ theory that Sirius was just protecting territory when he reacted so badly to Brady. Partly it was because there was still something niggling at him about the dog, even though Sirius had been nothing but dog-like in his behaviour since he’d moved in with them. But also because he’d been watching Tyson’s face when their friend had walked through the door, and he could have sworn something strange had happened to Brady’s eyes in that first instant when Sirius went berserk. Like a dark shadow had passed over Tyson’s face. For that brief moment, Brady hadn’t looked like himself. Or even like a human.
Sam might have tried to leave the hunting life behind, but he couldn’t ignore years of training or pretend he didn’t know there were dangers out there far more evil than anything most people could imagine.
Sam opened their bedroom door, half expecting to be bowled over by a few pounds of anxious dog, only to find the room apparently empty, the window wide open.
“Oh fuck!” Sam was at the window in a couple of strides, while Jess came into the room behind him.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Jess took in the window and the absence of dog. “Oh, no!”
Jess’ shoulder was warm where she pressed in next to Sam looking out for any sign of Sirius down below. Sam was sure her heart was beating just as fast as his, as he wondered how on earth the dog could have survived the drop. But it clearly had, as there was no sign of a crumpled broken body below them.
Sam was just about to say something about maybe giving up on finding the dog again, when both of them whirled round at the sound of their duvet slithering off the bed onto the floor.
Sirius was sitting in the middle of their bed, looking guilty as hell. Jess shrieked and leapt onto the bed, pulling the embarrassed and reluctant dog into her arms. Sam stared in disbelief which only got stronger when Sirius realised his nose was being crushed into Jess’ cleavage and so obviously perked up at the idea, Sam seriously thought he must be seeing things. He knew he’d never actually owned a dog, but he had been around dogs enough to know that most dogs were not that interested in women’s boobs. Chalk that up as yet another reason to wonder whether there was something supernatural about the animal. Sam wished he had access to Bobby’s library instead of the University’s and even wondered whether he should ring the old hunter, before dismissing the idea as an over reaction.
Sirius hadn’t shown any sign of being a threat to either Sam or Jessica – in fact, somewhat the opposite was true. So until the dog did something more odd than snuffle Jessica’s breasts, Sam would reserve judgement. Though that didn’t mean he was willing to share Jess’ lovely body with anyone, even a dog. He grabbed Sirius by the collar and hauled him, grumbling loudly, off the bed.
“No dogs on our bed!”
Sirius looked like he wanted to argue with that pronouncement but Sam maintained a steely glare, and after a few seconds, the dog wilted and slunk off into the living room with his tail tucked between his legs.
Jess laughed.
“Poor Sirius! I think you scared him with your mean, masterful ways.” She stretched her arms and Sam was mesmerised by the way her nipples showed through her Smurf shirt. Perhaps he couldn’t blame the dog when he too was being consumed by thoughts of nuzzling between those perfect breasts right now. Sam swallowed hard and Jessica’s smile turned sultry and dark. All thoughts of dogs and possible evil creatures slid right out of Sam’s head as he climbed onto the bed to tangle limbs with his beautiful girl. Sadly, it seemed her focus hadn’t yet entirely shifted in the blissful direction Sam had gone, as she still wanted to talk about the damned dog.
“You know, I’m not comfortable with going out partying and leaving Sirius on his own tonight… what do you think, Sam? Fancy an early night instead then, lover boy?” she said, as she wrapped her long legs round his waist. Sam’s only answer was a groan of acquiescence and a silent vote of thanks to the dog.
Later, much later, when Sam woke sweating and frantic from his recent recurring nightmare of Jess burning, he was reassured by not only the soft warmth of her silky skin pressed up against his right side, but also by the heavy furry weight of Sirius, who was, in blatant disregard of Sam’s clearly stated rule, lying on the bed, stretched across both their feet. Sam carefully turned onto his back and put his arms behind his head, waiting for his heart to slow down to a more normal rhythm. He looked down at the dog only to find Sirius awake and staring back at him, his eyes glowing green in the light of the digital clock. Sam thought vaguely that he should have been alarmed, but instead he was reassured by the dog’s vigilance.
It might have been the aftermath of the nightmare, or maybe just the fact that it was the middle of the night and he was so freaking tired, but Sam was starting to think the dog had been sent to protect them, and he was absurdly grateful. Because although he had been dismissing his dream of Jess pinned to the ceiling, blood dripping down from her slashed open belly and flames erupting all around, the constant repetition of the horrific scene was wearing him down. It was comforting to wake up and find the dog watching over him. Even if the dog was an over-protective, lecherous foodaholic the rest of the time. And who did that remind him of?
Sam’s eyes had been drifting shut, but flew open at that thought. He sat up a little and stared at the dog, whose head came up under the scrutiny. Jess sighed and turned over, oblivious of the staring contest going on over her slumbering feet.
Sirius had turned up out of the blue and coincidentally latched onto first Jess then him. The dog had been exhibiting an almost uncanny ability to understand instructions, was totally protective of Sam and now Sam came to examine the dog’s character traits, they all seemed to echo someone he knew very well… Added to which was the well known fact that Winchesters did not believe in coincidences.
“Dean?” Sam whispered, testing his theory.
The dog wagged his tail, then managed to look mortified at what was evidently an involuntary reaction. Sam slipped out of bed and stalked through to the living room. He didn’t need to look back to know that the dog – no, fucking Dean! – would follow, and sure enough, a few seconds later came the clicking of hard nails on the wooden floor. With difficulty Sam refrained from picking the damn dog up and shaking it until its teeth rattled. Instead he quietly closed the bedroom door before following the dog, who had wandered through the bead curtain into the kitchen. He snapped the light on and faced the animal.
Which was his brother. Really, this sort of fucked up shit could only happen to the Winchesters.
“Dean? What the fuck, man?”
Dean’s tail gave a half-hearted wag but Sam’s dander was up now, and he barrelled on, pacing up and down like a caged tiger. And maybe he should stay the fuck away from animal similes right now.
“What the hell are you doing here? What happened to you?”
Dean visibly drooped under the barrage of questions. By the time Sam ran out of steam, Dean was flat on the floor, head resting on his forelegs and a look of resignation on his be-whiskered face. Sam stuttered to a halt, wondering how Dean managed to make a dog’s face so expressive. And more importantly, how he managed to make Sam feel guilty without saying a word. In frustration, Sam ran a hand through his bangs, because of course, Dean had a point. His brother was a freaking dog and couldn’t speak so what was the use of asking questions a dog couldn’t possibly answer?
Sam grunted in exasperation and sat down on the edge of the sofa. Time to rethink. Dean didn’t move, just rolled his eyes and waited for Sam to get with the program.
“Alright. I assume you can understand me, so let’s try something logical.” He thought about Jess sleeping next door, and make a quick proviso. “We need to be quiet. How about you tap your paw once for yes, twice for no.”
Dean sat up, ears pricked, and very deliberately tapped his right paw. Sam couldn’t help it. He grinned. He thought for a minute, annoyed with himself that every question he thought of seemed to begin with why, or where, or how, or when.
“Who did this to you? Was it a witch?”
One tap. Yes.
“How long have you been like this? Did it happen much before you bumped into us on Campus?
Two taps. No. And a look of irritation for asking two questions at once.
“So you’d only just become a dog when we found you?”
One tap. Yes.
Sam continued the laborious process of asking single questions until he had established as much of the background as Dean was able to share or remember, which probably wasn’t half as much as either of them would have liked.
The facts were:
Sam leaned back on the sofa cushions and sighed heavily.
“Jesus Christ, Dean. What the hell am I supposed to do with you now? What if the spell wears off while Jess is here? Or in front of our friends?”
Dean whined softly and slumped down again, making Sam feel like a complete dick. Which just wasn’t fair, because Dean in human form didn’t have that power. Dean was just using and abusing his new kicked puppy look in the most literal fashion.
“Sam?” Jessica’s voice from the doorway behind him made him jump guiltily. He spun round and couldn’t help drinking in the sight of her gorgeous long legs and the delightful sliver of tanned stomach where her ripped Smurf t-shirt was riding up. Sleepy Jess was very distracting.
“What on earth are you doing up at this time of night?” She asked.
“I – er – De – Sirius just wanted a drink, didn’t you, boy?”
Sam looked down to find Dean was somehow managing to look lecherous. His tongue was hanging out and he had quirked one eyebrow, which actually wasn’t far off his human face’s expression when checking out a fine rack on a pretty girl. Well, apart from the more obvious drooling, that was. It looked like Dean the dog was as likely to get distracted by a fine looking woman as Dean the man, which was just typical. Sam suddenly recalled how the dog – Dean – had been shoving his nose right in Jessica’s crotch yesterday. Sam flushed in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Oh god. His big brother had been sniffing his girlfriend’s lady parts. It was the school prom all over again but worse, because Sam loved Jess.
At least this version of Dean was easier to handle. Sam filled a bowl with tap water and put it on the floor, then grabbed Dean’s collar and dragged. He stuffed Dean’s offending nose into the bowl, ignoring the growl of protest.
“Here you go, boy, drink up.”
Dean gave Sam a look of disgust that clearly said, water? Where’s the beer, dude? Sam shrugged. You’re a dog, bro. Dogs drink water. Suck it up…
Jess yawned.
“Come back to bed, babe, you can play with Sirius in the morning.”
“What would I do without you, Jessica Moore?” Sam said, uncaring that his expression might have been called sappy by a certain brother who was too busy pretending to be thirsty to call him on it, besides the fact that said brother was a dog and therefore lacking in the powers of sarcastic speech.
“Crash and burn, baby, crash and burn.” Jess said smiling, as she wrapped her arms around him and drew him back through to their bedroom.
“And don’t pee on the floor while we’re asleep.” Sam threw his parting shot, gaining a look of guilty disgust from Dean that made Sam grin even wider as he let the bead curtain fall and kicked the bedroom door shut. No more doggie comforters that night.
Dean was in trouble. More trouble than just being a dog, that is, though obviously, it was all part of the same thing. Freaking witches. The trouble was, and this was the whole problem in a dog bowl, he was finding it hard to think. Two days as a dog and already life was so much simpler. Which was good, except there were things he should be doing. Important things that he was having difficulty remembering over the canine imperatives of being with Sam, protecting Sam, protecting Jess, eating, sniffing stuff, peeing on stuff and finding some tail to chase. Which, he could hear Sam saying, was nothing new for Dean. Most of that was what drove human Dean from day to day anyway, wasn’t it?
Apart from the desire to chase the other kind of tail, like squirrels. And cats. And people on bicycles, or roller blades, or skate boards. And balls, and sticks and Frisbees. That was all dog.
But coming back to the more important necessities of his doggie life, there was the core of Dean’s memory problem. The dog’s imperatives were very close to his own, close enough that he’d felt so comfortable with them, at some point during the time he’d been transformed, he’d forgotten that he needed to fight his way out of this situation, or why.
And more importantly, he’d missed his chance of warning Sam about that Brady creature. Now he was going to have to find a way of ‘talking’ to Sam again without Jessica’s knowledge, assuming he didn’t just change back into a human overnight. He paced up and down the kitchen for a while until he forgot why he had been agitated, at which point he found the blanket Jess had laid out for him before he’d managed to sneak onto their bed, and curled up on it. It smelt nice. Of Jess and Sam, and faintly of detergent. It was soothing.
Dean slept and dreamt happy dreams of chasing rabbits, which was quite an achievement, as his dog-self hadn’t yet seen one and his human self had never even thought about running around after a fat bunny. Well, unless you count that rather well endowed sorority girl in the Bunny Girl’s outfit that one time in Pasadena….
Dean slept so deeply he never found out that dogs snore.
Brady had seriously considered returning to little Matt the freshman after Sam and Jess failed to show at the party. Luckily for the oblivious Matt, Brady found someone else to take out his frustration on, whose blood was just right for making a trunk call. Someone less likely to be missed. He really didn’t want the Palo Alto PD bumbling around getting in the way of his plans for Jessica, and this scrawny little street-whore didn’t even have a pimp to miss her. Besides, on All Hallows Eve, there were so many fools walking around covered in false blood, it would probably be days before anyone even reported the crime.
He hated talking to Azazel, in spite of the fact that the demon lord was the main reason Orias was free to be Brady and enjoy himself topside in a human meat suit, but he knew he was storing up trouble for himself by avoiding reporting in, especially this close to the conclusion of his job.
“My lord, it’s Orias.” Brady stirred the bubbling blood with his finger and waited for a reply. Behind him on the floor, the dead girl’s neck gaped wide in a dreadful parody of a smile.
Part two
Saturday 31st October 2005
Saturday 31st October 2005
Dean wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow he’d ended up with a nice new leather and metal-studded collar, with an engraved brass tag saying “Sirius”. It appeared that his dog-self was a push-over if offered a nice warm blanket to sleep on, a plate of some anonymous meat in anonymous gravy and a good belly scratch. Once the two humans had agreed to keep the dog, Sam had gone out again, leaving Dean with Jess, and come back with the collar and a lead in a Wallmart bag. Dean had allowed his brother to fasten on the collar, agreeing with Sam’s comment that it would make Dean less obviously a stray. Dean was a fan of being inconspicuous.
He eyed the lead with suspicion, however, resolving that no one, brother or not, would be dragging him round on the end of that.
He had some pride, after all.
Or that was what he told himself until Sam and Jess took him to the park after breakfast the following day.
What could he say? Frisbee catching was just addictive. And he was fucking awesome at it. Sam had a great throwing arm, naturally, having been trained for years by his big brother, but Dean was a match for anything Sam could (literally) throw at him. Dean completely lost track of time, leaping and running and twisting acrobatically after the grey plastic disc. It was probably red or orange in real life, but right now, canine colour blindness was so far down Dean’s list of interesting facts it barely figured at all. The sun was shining, Sam and his pretty girl were laughing and Dean had a Frisbee to kill.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this happy.
Sadly, Dean’s appetite for Frisbee-chasing outlasted both Sam’s and Jessica’s. Dean was finding that humans had such short attention spans when it came to the important stuff. Fortunately, he could amuse himself while Sam was busy sticking his tongue down Jess’ throat, something Dean heartily approved of and had never thought to see his little brother doing so enthusiastically. Dean had caught the delicious scent of lady-dog and was happy to find his charms were just as irresistible to the female dog population as his human self had been to the chicks. If he had taken a moment to think about it, perhaps he might have hesitated but thought was the first thing to exit from his head when the rich warm smell of a bitch in heat wafted past his quivering nostrils.
The huge disadvantage of his collar was that it allowed Sam to get a much better grip on him and to Dean’s chagrin, Sam had no trouble at all in forcing coitus interruptus on Dean and his new bitch-friend, whose owner seemed to be suffering from apoplexy. Come on lady, it’s a beautiful natural act and my babies would be awesome, I mean just look at me. Such a fucking handsome devil…
Sam was less than impressed with Sirius’ sexual exploits, however, and had the lead clipped to Dean’s collar before he realised what was going on. Freaking cockblocker. Sam half dragged, half carried a protesting Dean back to the rug where Jessica was sitting, helpless with laughter.
“You can’t really blame him, Sam, he was only following his master’s example!”
Dean grinned as Sam flushed deep red, but any amusement was soon crushed by Sam’s next casual remark.
“You know, if we are gong to keep him, Jess, we probably need to get him neutered.”
Dean pulled on his lead and howled. He kept up his vocal complaint until Sam finally gave in and vowed that Sirius’ nuts were safe from butchery. He then got his revenge by dragging Sam around while he marked up every tree he could find before they left the park, just to make a point. You don’t get away with cockblocking Dean Winchester and then threatening his joy-sack without any consequences, brother or no.
It was a truth universally acknowledged that most dogs don’t like demons. Cats on the other hand, couldn’t give a damn one way or another, hence most witches preferred to use cats as familiars, though in theory any animal would serve their purpose. A dog would freak out where a cat would take it in their stride.
Brady was therefore distinctly put out to find that a dog seemed to have taken up residence in Sam and Jessica’s apartment just days before his plans would come to fruition. Though from its reaction to him, the dog was possibly even more put out than Brady. The stupid thing was growling from the moment Brady stepped through the door.
It advanced on him, stiff legged and hackles raised, like it thought it was some sort of Hell hound, which was, Brady knew from personal experience, laughable. Brady only just managed not to kick the creature in the ribs, realising that such an action might be correctly construed as him not giving a shit. Sam was a bit slow in realising his pet wasn’t behaving all that well, so the mutt was in severe danger of having its neck snapped before Winchester finally got with the programme. Sam leapt forward and grabbed its collar, manhandling the snarling, snapping dog into their bedroom and locking it in.
It was a good half an hour before the stupid mongrel stopped barking its futile protests at the closed door.
“Well, that was fun.”
Brady did a little snarling of his own. He was entitled, he thought, as he brushed off Jessica’s apologies, Sam’s puzzled strange, he hasn’t reacted like that before comments. Brady consoled himself with fantasies of what he was going to do to the mangy mutt if it was unwise enough to be here when he came for Jess the night after All Saints eve. He smiled at Jess and relaxed, enjoying warm thoughts about how she was going to look as he was sliding the knife into her belly.
“So. Anyone up for pre party drinks?” he said.
Dean was frantic. Sam and his girl were out there with that, that…thing, and he was helpless. Trapped. Trapped in this room and trapped in this body and he didn’t know what to do. He whined, scratched at the closed door and cursed that fucking witch. The door wasn’t even locked; didn’t have to be because Dean couldn’t turn the round handle with these stupid fucking useless paws, couldn’t break the door down with this too small, useless body, couldn’t fucking do anything except…
Except Sam or Jess had left the window open.
Dean padded over to the casement, stuck his nose into the crack and shoved with his head and then with his shoulders until the sash gave and opened wide enough for him to fit through. He looked down and winced. It was only two stories, but there was nothing to break his fall but a few shrubs. He bared his teeth and wished the witch had made him a cat.
He could hear the low rumble of Sam’s voice from the living room, calling the guy Brady, though Jess then called him Tyson so… then the guy, who Dean was sure wasn’t human, said something about going for a drink. Dean’s muscles tensed and he readied himself to jump, then he heard Sam refusing, too much studying to do, yadda yadda, and then there was Jess agreeing with Sam, and Brady making some remarks about too much work making them dull - which might have been something Dean would have said in another time or place, but right now, Dean was just happy that the guy was leaving, and that both his people were staying here, safe, with him.
Dean watched Tyson Brady stroll out of the apartment block towards the black truck, and wondered why his dog senses hadn’t picked up on the blond guy’s wrongness the day before, when he’d hitched his ride on the dude’s flatbed. Maybe the metal had shielded the abnormality from Dean, or he just hadn’t gotten close enough to catch that stench of sulphur and decay that had hit him today the minute the creature walked through the door. Before Brady swung himself into the driver’s seat, the guy paused and looked up, straight at Dean, like he knew he was being watched. Dean growled involuntarily, an atavistic reaction.
He had no idea what sort of monster Brady was, but Dean was certain of one thing. Tyson Brady was not human, and whatever he was, it was doubtful his intentions were benign.
Dean watched out of the open window until he was certain Brady had really driven away, then he turned and looked around the room. Evil sons of bitches aside, now the immediate danger had passed Dean was finding Sam’s bed very attractive right now. He could hear Sam and Jess conversing in low tones in the main room, discussing his behaviour, and he snorted when Jess suggested Sirius had probably just been defending his territory. Too right he would defend, but it wasn’t territory he was worried about, it was his family. His pack.
And he’d die before he let anyone – or anything – hurt either of them.
That miserable mutt was an unforeseen and irritating complication, Brady thought. His hips pistonned brutally hard as he fucked the soft skinned Freshman he’d picked up in the bar. He gripped the boy’s hips tighter, uncaring about the pained moans that were being punched out with every thrust. Brady wasn’t here to give pleasure or satisfaction to anyone. In fact, he’d found during this stint topside that it really helped him concentrate on a problem if he was doling out at least a small measure of pain while he was thinking things through. Brady was an equal opportunities sort of demon, it didn’t matter whether his victim was male or female as long as Brady got his rocks off in a tight wet hole.
And it worked for him every time. As he climaxed and filled the squealing kid up with spunk, the most elegant solution came to him. He could use the damned dog to get Sam out of the way on the 2nd of November, and effectively kill two birds with one stone. Almost literally. Well, one dog and one girlfriend, which was miles better than birds.
Smiling, he pulled out of Freshman, who wasn’t looking so fresh now, to be honest, his pretty face smeared with tears and snot, and his pretty butt all red raw from the pummelling Brady had just delivered. He gave the boy’s ass a hearty slap and grinned to see how the kid flinched and tugged against the restraints they’d been using. Kind of reminded Brady of home. Pity he couldn’t have pulled out a few fingernails or teeth while he was at it, but he couldn’t jeopardise the mission, not when he was so close to the pay off. He had to be satisfied with watching the kid’s abused hole clenching as it vainly tried to stop the slick semen sliding out, the white fluid streaked with blood because, oh dear, had Brady forgotten to use a condom and lube? He slid a finger inside again just to make Freshman wince.
“Ah well, we have to take what little pleasure we can in the short time we are in this world, eh, Matt?” Brady said to Freshman’s upturned butt. The kid’s face, where it peeked out from the pillow it had been mashed into for the last hour or so, looked a bit shocked.
“It’s Marc,” Freshman said, indignant, and Brady couldn’t help laughing. The idea that the kid gets painfully fucked six ways from Sunday and ends up more bothered that the guy who fucked him can’t remember his waste-of-space name was very amusing. He couldn’t resist shoving a couple more fingers into the kid, smiling when Matt squirmed and gasped.
“I like you, kid. Matt. What a pity I don’t have more time to take you apart, piece by piece. I’d like to see what you are really made of… but duty calls.” Brady glanced at the clock and withdrew his fingers from Matt’s hole with a wet plop, wiping them clean on the boy’s quivering thigh. “Today is Halloween, and there are parties to go to; then tomorrow is a day of rest before the fun begins. I’m so looking forward to a very special anniversary on Monday.”
Brady briefly considered leaving the kid tied up. Maybe he could come back and have another go at him after the fancy dress party tonight. A few hours trussed up and Brady was sure Matt would cry and beg very nicely… but no. Now was not the time for side orders, not when the main dish was about to be served. Brady knew where to find the kid any way, and after his mission was accomplished, there would be no need to restrain himself any more.
Little Matt could be a delicious desert after he’d finished with Jessica Moore. But now, it was party time.
Sam wasn’t wholly convinced by Jess’ theory that Sirius was just protecting territory when he reacted so badly to Brady. Partly it was because there was still something niggling at him about the dog, even though Sirius had been nothing but dog-like in his behaviour since he’d moved in with them. But also because he’d been watching Tyson’s face when their friend had walked through the door, and he could have sworn something strange had happened to Brady’s eyes in that first instant when Sirius went berserk. Like a dark shadow had passed over Tyson’s face. For that brief moment, Brady hadn’t looked like himself. Or even like a human.
Sam might have tried to leave the hunting life behind, but he couldn’t ignore years of training or pretend he didn’t know there were dangers out there far more evil than anything most people could imagine.
Sam opened their bedroom door, half expecting to be bowled over by a few pounds of anxious dog, only to find the room apparently empty, the window wide open.
“Oh fuck!” Sam was at the window in a couple of strides, while Jess came into the room behind him.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Jess took in the window and the absence of dog. “Oh, no!”
Jess’ shoulder was warm where she pressed in next to Sam looking out for any sign of Sirius down below. Sam was sure her heart was beating just as fast as his, as he wondered how on earth the dog could have survived the drop. But it clearly had, as there was no sign of a crumpled broken body below them.
Sam was just about to say something about maybe giving up on finding the dog again, when both of them whirled round at the sound of their duvet slithering off the bed onto the floor.
Sirius was sitting in the middle of their bed, looking guilty as hell. Jess shrieked and leapt onto the bed, pulling the embarrassed and reluctant dog into her arms. Sam stared in disbelief which only got stronger when Sirius realised his nose was being crushed into Jess’ cleavage and so obviously perked up at the idea, Sam seriously thought he must be seeing things. He knew he’d never actually owned a dog, but he had been around dogs enough to know that most dogs were not that interested in women’s boobs. Chalk that up as yet another reason to wonder whether there was something supernatural about the animal. Sam wished he had access to Bobby’s library instead of the University’s and even wondered whether he should ring the old hunter, before dismissing the idea as an over reaction.
Sirius hadn’t shown any sign of being a threat to either Sam or Jessica – in fact, somewhat the opposite was true. So until the dog did something more odd than snuffle Jessica’s breasts, Sam would reserve judgement. Though that didn’t mean he was willing to share Jess’ lovely body with anyone, even a dog. He grabbed Sirius by the collar and hauled him, grumbling loudly, off the bed.
“No dogs on our bed!”
Sirius looked like he wanted to argue with that pronouncement but Sam maintained a steely glare, and after a few seconds, the dog wilted and slunk off into the living room with his tail tucked between his legs.
Jess laughed.
“Poor Sirius! I think you scared him with your mean, masterful ways.” She stretched her arms and Sam was mesmerised by the way her nipples showed through her Smurf shirt. Perhaps he couldn’t blame the dog when he too was being consumed by thoughts of nuzzling between those perfect breasts right now. Sam swallowed hard and Jessica’s smile turned sultry and dark. All thoughts of dogs and possible evil creatures slid right out of Sam’s head as he climbed onto the bed to tangle limbs with his beautiful girl. Sadly, it seemed her focus hadn’t yet entirely shifted in the blissful direction Sam had gone, as she still wanted to talk about the damned dog.
“You know, I’m not comfortable with going out partying and leaving Sirius on his own tonight… what do you think, Sam? Fancy an early night instead then, lover boy?” she said, as she wrapped her long legs round his waist. Sam’s only answer was a groan of acquiescence and a silent vote of thanks to the dog.
Later, much later, when Sam woke sweating and frantic from his recent recurring nightmare of Jess burning, he was reassured by not only the soft warmth of her silky skin pressed up against his right side, but also by the heavy furry weight of Sirius, who was, in blatant disregard of Sam’s clearly stated rule, lying on the bed, stretched across both their feet. Sam carefully turned onto his back and put his arms behind his head, waiting for his heart to slow down to a more normal rhythm. He looked down at the dog only to find Sirius awake and staring back at him, his eyes glowing green in the light of the digital clock. Sam thought vaguely that he should have been alarmed, but instead he was reassured by the dog’s vigilance.
It might have been the aftermath of the nightmare, or maybe just the fact that it was the middle of the night and he was so freaking tired, but Sam was starting to think the dog had been sent to protect them, and he was absurdly grateful. Because although he had been dismissing his dream of Jess pinned to the ceiling, blood dripping down from her slashed open belly and flames erupting all around, the constant repetition of the horrific scene was wearing him down. It was comforting to wake up and find the dog watching over him. Even if the dog was an over-protective, lecherous foodaholic the rest of the time. And who did that remind him of?
Sam’s eyes had been drifting shut, but flew open at that thought. He sat up a little and stared at the dog, whose head came up under the scrutiny. Jess sighed and turned over, oblivious of the staring contest going on over her slumbering feet.
Sirius had turned up out of the blue and coincidentally latched onto first Jess then him. The dog had been exhibiting an almost uncanny ability to understand instructions, was totally protective of Sam and now Sam came to examine the dog’s character traits, they all seemed to echo someone he knew very well… Added to which was the well known fact that Winchesters did not believe in coincidences.
“Dean?” Sam whispered, testing his theory.
The dog wagged his tail, then managed to look mortified at what was evidently an involuntary reaction. Sam slipped out of bed and stalked through to the living room. He didn’t need to look back to know that the dog – no, fucking Dean! – would follow, and sure enough, a few seconds later came the clicking of hard nails on the wooden floor. With difficulty Sam refrained from picking the damn dog up and shaking it until its teeth rattled. Instead he quietly closed the bedroom door before following the dog, who had wandered through the bead curtain into the kitchen. He snapped the light on and faced the animal.
Which was his brother. Really, this sort of fucked up shit could only happen to the Winchesters.
“Dean? What the fuck, man?”
Dean’s tail gave a half-hearted wag but Sam’s dander was up now, and he barrelled on, pacing up and down like a caged tiger. And maybe he should stay the fuck away from animal similes right now.
“What the hell are you doing here? What happened to you?”
Dean visibly drooped under the barrage of questions. By the time Sam ran out of steam, Dean was flat on the floor, head resting on his forelegs and a look of resignation on his be-whiskered face. Sam stuttered to a halt, wondering how Dean managed to make a dog’s face so expressive. And more importantly, how he managed to make Sam feel guilty without saying a word. In frustration, Sam ran a hand through his bangs, because of course, Dean had a point. His brother was a freaking dog and couldn’t speak so what was the use of asking questions a dog couldn’t possibly answer?
Sam grunted in exasperation and sat down on the edge of the sofa. Time to rethink. Dean didn’t move, just rolled his eyes and waited for Sam to get with the program.
“Alright. I assume you can understand me, so let’s try something logical.” He thought about Jess sleeping next door, and make a quick proviso. “We need to be quiet. How about you tap your paw once for yes, twice for no.”
Dean sat up, ears pricked, and very deliberately tapped his right paw. Sam couldn’t help it. He grinned. He thought for a minute, annoyed with himself that every question he thought of seemed to begin with why, or where, or how, or when.
“Who did this to you? Was it a witch?”
One tap. Yes.
“How long have you been like this? Did it happen much before you bumped into us on Campus?
Two taps. No. And a look of irritation for asking two questions at once.
“So you’d only just become a dog when we found you?”
One tap. Yes.
Sam continued the laborious process of asking single questions until he had established as much of the background as Dean was able to share or remember, which probably wasn’t half as much as either of them would have liked.
The facts were:
- The witch hadn’t been on Campus but somewhere in Palo Alto, and she was dead.
- Dad wasn’t with Dean, and Dean didn’t know exactly where their father was. In fact, Dean hadn’t heard from Dad for several weeks and was worried about the lack of contact, though of course, even while Dean was a dog, Sam had to infer the worried part from canine body language, as his brother was never going to answer a direct question about his feelings whatever form he was in.
- Dean had been be-spelled for least at two days now, so it was very possible the curse would wear off sometime soon.
Sam leaned back on the sofa cushions and sighed heavily.
“Jesus Christ, Dean. What the hell am I supposed to do with you now? What if the spell wears off while Jess is here? Or in front of our friends?”
Dean whined softly and slumped down again, making Sam feel like a complete dick. Which just wasn’t fair, because Dean in human form didn’t have that power. Dean was just using and abusing his new kicked puppy look in the most literal fashion.
“Sam?” Jessica’s voice from the doorway behind him made him jump guiltily. He spun round and couldn’t help drinking in the sight of her gorgeous long legs and the delightful sliver of tanned stomach where her ripped Smurf t-shirt was riding up. Sleepy Jess was very distracting.
“What on earth are you doing up at this time of night?” She asked.
“I – er – De – Sirius just wanted a drink, didn’t you, boy?”
Sam looked down to find Dean was somehow managing to look lecherous. His tongue was hanging out and he had quirked one eyebrow, which actually wasn’t far off his human face’s expression when checking out a fine rack on a pretty girl. Well, apart from the more obvious drooling, that was. It looked like Dean the dog was as likely to get distracted by a fine looking woman as Dean the man, which was just typical. Sam suddenly recalled how the dog – Dean – had been shoving his nose right in Jessica’s crotch yesterday. Sam flushed in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Oh god. His big brother had been sniffing his girlfriend’s lady parts. It was the school prom all over again but worse, because Sam loved Jess.
At least this version of Dean was easier to handle. Sam filled a bowl with tap water and put it on the floor, then grabbed Dean’s collar and dragged. He stuffed Dean’s offending nose into the bowl, ignoring the growl of protest.
“Here you go, boy, drink up.”
Dean gave Sam a look of disgust that clearly said, water? Where’s the beer, dude? Sam shrugged. You’re a dog, bro. Dogs drink water. Suck it up…
Jess yawned.
“Come back to bed, babe, you can play with Sirius in the morning.”
“What would I do without you, Jessica Moore?” Sam said, uncaring that his expression might have been called sappy by a certain brother who was too busy pretending to be thirsty to call him on it, besides the fact that said brother was a dog and therefore lacking in the powers of sarcastic speech.
“Crash and burn, baby, crash and burn.” Jess said smiling, as she wrapped her arms around him and drew him back through to their bedroom.
“And don’t pee on the floor while we’re asleep.” Sam threw his parting shot, gaining a look of guilty disgust from Dean that made Sam grin even wider as he let the bead curtain fall and kicked the bedroom door shut. No more doggie comforters that night.
Dean was in trouble. More trouble than just being a dog, that is, though obviously, it was all part of the same thing. Freaking witches. The trouble was, and this was the whole problem in a dog bowl, he was finding it hard to think. Two days as a dog and already life was so much simpler. Which was good, except there were things he should be doing. Important things that he was having difficulty remembering over the canine imperatives of being with Sam, protecting Sam, protecting Jess, eating, sniffing stuff, peeing on stuff and finding some tail to chase. Which, he could hear Sam saying, was nothing new for Dean. Most of that was what drove human Dean from day to day anyway, wasn’t it?
Apart from the desire to chase the other kind of tail, like squirrels. And cats. And people on bicycles, or roller blades, or skate boards. And balls, and sticks and Frisbees. That was all dog.
But coming back to the more important necessities of his doggie life, there was the core of Dean’s memory problem. The dog’s imperatives were very close to his own, close enough that he’d felt so comfortable with them, at some point during the time he’d been transformed, he’d forgotten that he needed to fight his way out of this situation, or why.
And more importantly, he’d missed his chance of warning Sam about that Brady creature. Now he was going to have to find a way of ‘talking’ to Sam again without Jessica’s knowledge, assuming he didn’t just change back into a human overnight. He paced up and down the kitchen for a while until he forgot why he had been agitated, at which point he found the blanket Jess had laid out for him before he’d managed to sneak onto their bed, and curled up on it. It smelt nice. Of Jess and Sam, and faintly of detergent. It was soothing.
Dean slept and dreamt happy dreams of chasing rabbits, which was quite an achievement, as his dog-self hadn’t yet seen one and his human self had never even thought about running around after a fat bunny. Well, unless you count that rather well endowed sorority girl in the Bunny Girl’s outfit that one time in Pasadena….
Dean slept so deeply he never found out that dogs snore.
Brady had seriously considered returning to little Matt the freshman after Sam and Jess failed to show at the party. Luckily for the oblivious Matt, Brady found someone else to take out his frustration on, whose blood was just right for making a trunk call. Someone less likely to be missed. He really didn’t want the Palo Alto PD bumbling around getting in the way of his plans for Jessica, and this scrawny little street-whore didn’t even have a pimp to miss her. Besides, on All Hallows Eve, there were so many fools walking around covered in false blood, it would probably be days before anyone even reported the crime.
He hated talking to Azazel, in spite of the fact that the demon lord was the main reason Orias was free to be Brady and enjoy himself topside in a human meat suit, but he knew he was storing up trouble for himself by avoiding reporting in, especially this close to the conclusion of his job.
“My lord, it’s Orias.” Brady stirred the bubbling blood with his finger and waited for a reply. Behind him on the floor, the dead girl’s neck gaped wide in a dreadful parody of a smile.