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It's A Dogs Life.
Written for spn_dailylife challenge. Prompt: Dog.
Summery: The Winchesters walk into someone else's daily life
The car door opened with a swirl of icy air, and a blast of bitter-dark night. A Sam-shaped hulk slid onto the passenger side of the bench seat, blocking the grasp of the unfriendly elements. The door slammed shut, and the Impala was a complete protective caccoon once again.
Dean slid his eyes over to his brother. Long fingers played with a piece of paper, with what looked like hastily scrawled directions enscribed slantwise across the blue ruled lines.
Sam kept his eyes resolutely fixed ahead, gazing at the barely visible clouds scudding by instead of the Dean-glare being directed at his head with full intensity.
"Well?" Dean's patience always had limits.
"Spooky noises." The reply was quiet.
"Spooky noises?" Dean's voice was flat and disbelieving.
"Spooky noises. That's what she said." Sam repeated defensively.
"I can't believe you talked me into this."
"We've looked into less Dean."
Dean's huff of silence said more than a thousand words. His shoulders hunched over in a fulminating sulk, mouth tightening disapprovingly.
"We're here now, might as well at least check out the house." Sam offered to the car.
Dean let the silence drag out, as ever, timing the moment to perfection. Just as Sam's mouth opened to present another shaky reason for them to check out the 'spooky noises'; or another oh-so-calm diatribe on his brother's emotional state of mind and health, Dean turned the ignition. The Impala's beautiful purr sprang to life. Black Sabbath kicked in a few seconds later, effectively drowning out anything Sam was going to say, as well as his own huff at being played. Again.
Dean allowed himself a smirk of satisfaction. After all, he had to show the kid who was boss from time to time.
~~~~
The clouds had parted slightly to allow a watery moonlight through, which made the pale of Sam's hand look ghostly every time he indicated the directions from the amature map. The house was situated outside the small town, amidst fields and a small clump of trees. Dean drew up near enough in case they had to run for it, but far enough away in case the 'spooky noises' turned out to be something with a tendancy for violence against classics.
"How long d'you say the owner's been dead?"
"Four weeks."
Dean gave Sam his patented 'you're shitting me' look. Sam shrugged his 'I'm just the baby brother, I'm innocent' shrug.
"Long enough if his ghost really is haunting the place."
Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam smiled.
"Well, I'm going in." Anything Dean could do, he could do too.
Sam grabbed the EMF meter, and opened the door again, stepping out to look up at the house silhoutted vaguely against the night sky. He heard the other door open, shut, and then felt his brother's presence where it had always silently been. Side by side, step by step, they entered the house together.
~~~~
"So what's known about the guy?"
Walking through the house was eerie - and stranger than most of the places they usually had to visit. There was an air of stillness, as if the house was waiting for someone to return home. Belongings were still resting where they had last been placed; an dirty coffee mug on the kitchen table, a newspaper half falling of the sofa, a now dry towel draped over the back of a chair.
"Not much, until he had a heart attack in the bank. He hadn't lived here long, about 5 years. A loner apparently. He'd come to town every now and then, although the shopkeeper quoted seemed very bitter that he didn't his groceries from her. They're still trying to track his family."
"Jeez" Dean muttered, as he swung his flashlight round the pathetic remains of a life. He may have a thing about flying (and no way was he ever going call it was a fear, let alone a phobia) but this - this was what could wake him at night, dry mouthed and shaking. Dying alone, unmourned, unnoticed. he'd rather go down fighting thanks.
"Nothing here." Sam's voice broke into his thoughts, as his brother returned, EMF in hand.
"So we go down?" Dean replied with a rhetorical question, spotlighting the flashlight's beam on the stairs to the celler.
In tried and tested formation they descended to the lowest level, lights working in tandem to cover the area below. The EMF was as silent as the proverbial grave.
"Well, this is a bust..."
Instantly, the noises started, and as Sam turned that 'you were saying' superior look his way, Dean decided he really ought to learn how to keep his mouth shut. Sam, galvinised by the whimpers and whines, quickly crossed the room to the door on the other side.
"Locked."
A cursery note to a following Dean. Sam glanced up at him, then laid the EMF meter on the ground to prevent Dean from insisting he could hold the meter, as well as a flashlight and gun. The lock was quickly picked, and the door swung open. The meter was still registering nothing - which proved it didn't pick up smells. Both Winchesters stepped back as the ripe air rushed to find new space to explore and pervade. Sam held his sleeve up against his nose as he once again swirled his light around the revealed inner room. The light halted when a pair of eyes shone in the gloom.
The dog whined again, trying to stand on obviously shaky legs. Then Sam was there, holding him close, wrapping him close in the old blanket serving as a bed.
"Looks like he got water from a leaking pipe back here." Dean was exploring the rest of the old celler, face still screwed up in disgust over what he had found neatly piled in a corner. The dog had been well trained, but nature had won out over his cleaner instincts. "Any food's long gone though."
"Poor old boy, were you left here alone, did no one come for you?" Sam crooned to the animal, who was now leaning against him, enjoying the warmth and the contact. He picked the dog up, wincing at the too light frame, carrying him away from his unexpected prison.
"Four weeks you said?" Dean reappeared, his frozen look of horror acknowledged, mirroring the look Sam imagined was on his own face.
"Yep. Four weeks."
"They couldn't have known he had a dog."
"No kidding." Sam agreed as he walked carefully through the first room, to the stairs.
"Come on boy, let's get you to a nice room for the night."
"We need to give him a bath first."
"Why?"
"Unless you want to walk him back to the motel. Or carry, whatever."
"Dean?"
"Leather seats dude."
"I think you ought to speak to a professional about your inappropiate connection with that car."
"Yeah, whatever. Jerkface."
~*~
Half an hour later, the dog had been bathed, dried, watered and fed a little. Now he was settled on a pile of blankets in the back of the Impala. During this domestic playtime, Sam had been heart-melted by a gentle lick on his hand, and by a pair grateful brown eyes. Dean's 'puppy-eyes' jibe was coming back to haunt him, and he suddenly realised just why his brother had always given in.
Dean collasped himself into the car last, after checking round the house once more. The creak of leather from his jacket, blended in with the creak of leather from his seat as he turned to check on Sam, check on the dog, start the engine.
"Man I wouldn't want to be the person who had to clean that place up." Dean remarked as he pulled away, characteristic smirk teasing his mouth.
"Poor old boy couldn't help it." Sam said softly, sitting sideways to keep an eye on the dog, who raised a sleepy eyebrow every now and again.
"We'll notify the authorities in the morning. It's kinda late now."
"Hm-mm," agreed Sam. "That the only reason?"
Dean's face was impassively bland as he looked over to meet his brother's searching gaze.
"What other reason could there be?"
Sam grinned. His brother could be, or seemed to be, an insentive jerk most of the time, but Sam knew that Dean was a big softy somewhere deep beneath their dad's training.
"No other reason at all Dean."
The look shared more than words ever could, as they travelled back to a small autonomous, non-descript motel room. A place where three lost, lonely souls could, and would, turn into home for a while.
The Impala roared her approval, as she carried them safely through the black night.
The End
April 07