Fic: Just For a Few Days

[sameuspegasus]

Title: Just For A Few Days

Authors: sameuspegasus and strgazr04

Rating: PG for a few curse words

Genre: Humor

Word Count: 3,452

Notes: Written for spn_bigpretzel's animal theme. Sorry it's late!

Summary: Saving the day isn't always about exorcising demons or banishing poltergeists. Sometimes it meant saving those who cannot save themselves. Late one stormy evening, the Winchester brothers find this out firsthand...and maybe even get a little attached to their rescue.


Sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, Dean let out a weary sigh, exhausted. He and Sam had just finished a hell of a hunt. On paper, the job looked like a simple salt and burn. Of course when is a gig ever simple for the Winchesters? The witnesses they interviewed hadn't been too forthcoming with information. Not even Sam's dewy, sensitive eyes were enough to convince them to spill. Then when the restless spirit decided to take its next victim, suddenly people started to 'remember' key pieces of intel. Dean was just happy to have this job wrapped up. At least the bones had been buried in an empty field. Feeling his sore back twinge yet again, Dean couldn't help but feel thankful there hadn't been any large gravestones around when the spirit decided to play 'toss the ruggedly handsome hunter around like a ragdoll'. Ok, so maybe he shouldn't have been egging it on but it was either that or watch Sam get choked again. These monsters really needed some new material.

Regardless, all Dean wanted now was a hot shower and a soft bed. At best he'd get a lukewarm shower and a lumpy bed, but at this rate he'd take it. Maybe tomorrow he could find a hot masseuse chick to tend to his sore muscles and give him a - ahem - rubdown. Dean smirked to himself at the thought.

The smarmy grin didn't last long though. It was soon replaced by sudden panic as his eyes snapped open and he gripped the dashboard, feeling Sam jam on the brakes. "Sam!" He yelled frantically. The back of the Impala fishtailed against the asphalt. Sam clutched the steering wheel trying to regain control of the car as it hydroplaned along the wet road, rain steadily growing heavier.

After long, heart pounding seconds of held breath, the car finally came to a stop sideways across the two-lane highway. Dean opened his mouth to ask his brother just what the hell was going on, but Sam was already out of the car and rounding the hood. Dean could just make out the shape of his brother in the yellowed beam of the headlights. He climbed out of the car. "Sam wha-" A whimpering cry cut him off and caused Dean to freeze. It sounded like a baby. Dean felt both heartbreak and anger at the idea of someone leaving an infant on the side of the road.

He walked closer to his brother, seeing Sam's large form huddled over something, rain soaking his hair and hoodie. The way his brother was cupping it in his hands, it was clearly too small to be a baby. "Dean, we have to help it." Sam implored, his distressed voice making him sound much younger than his years. Just as Dean was about to ask what exactly they had to help, Sam turned and slowly stood with a tiny bundle in his arms. Two yellow eyes blinked up at Dean from the middle of Sam's giant palms. Dean couldn't help his automatic flinch at the color of those eyes. But then he took in the tiny nose and the wet fur. It actually looked like-

"A kitten?!" Dean looked at Sam flabbergasted. "You nearly killed us and totaled my baby for a damn kitten?!" He threw his hands up in exasperation, glaring as rain rolled over the tip of his nose. It didn't seem that Sam found anything wrong with this though. He simply looked from the trembling kitten to his big brother with sad eyes. "Please Dean..."

"Please De, you have to fix it! The bird fell outta its nest and now it can't find its momma. I think his wing is broken. You gotta make it better, De! You got to!" Six year old Sammy held a frail baby bird in his chubby hands and looked up at his hero to save the day once again.

"Dean... Dean?"

Dean snapped himself out of the memory at the sound of his brother's voice. "Son of a...” He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Aw hell, gimme the damn thing." He moved forward to take the kitten only to have Sam take a wary step back. A look of hurt passed over Dean's face at his brother's mistrust only to be quickly overridden by a frustrated glare. "Dammit, Sammy." He said gruffly, shaking his head. Yet when he took the kitten from his brother, it was with a gentleness Dean usually reserved for children and victims - and Sam, once upon a time. He cradled the shivering ball of fur to his chest, wrapping the sides of his flannel shirt and leather coat around it. His lips twitched of their own volition when he felt the cat snuggle closer into his body heat. Dean quickly schooled his features though the minute he felt Sam's gaze upon him. "What?" He snapped. "Get in the car. And don't crash us this time!"

"Hey, technically I didn't cra-"

"Sam!" He barked then immediately felt remorse as tiny bundle whimpered in fear. Dean tried to repair the damage by making soothing noises as he climbed back into his baby.

Sam pulled the car back into drive and started looking for a motel, biting back a smile. His manly man, tough-as-nails brother was so full of shit sometimes.

XXX

“No, I’m not giving it to you,” Dean protested. “If your kitten-holding is anything like your driving, you’ll crush it with your gigantor-hands and then flood the room with your tears. Now find a box or something.”

“There aren’t any boxes, Dean. Just put it down and we’ll make it a nest out of some clothes,” Sam sighed, pulling a flannel shirt, softened by age and washing, out of Dean’s bag.

“Oh, no way. You’re the one who nearly killed us stopping to rescue it; if it’s pissing on anyone’s shirt it’s going to be yours.” Dean scowled at his brother and moved the kitten so it was snuggled - no wait, he meant tucked - against a dry patch on his shirt. Damn thing had wriggled its wet body all over his front while they were driving, trying to get dry. Okay, so Dean might have rubbed it with his shirt a bit, helping it warm up. But only because Sam was a soft-hearted pushover and had just about been crying at the thought of it dying. Not because Dean wanted to keep it or anything.

“You know what, whatever. Here.” Sam flung one of his own flannel shirts in Dean’s direction. “I’m gonna try to find an open store, see if I can get it some milk and stuff. Just try to keep it warm till I get back.”

Dean wasn’t listening to him anymore, distracted by the kitten moving weakly in his hand and making pathetic mewling noises.“I think it’s hungry,” he said.

“Okay, I’ll try to be quick,” Sam said, “I think I saw a gas station a couple of blocks back. I’ll be back in five.”

Dean positioned Sam’s shirt on his bed and set the kitten on it gently. It was almost fully dried out, now, its grey fluff sticking up in messy spikes from the rough drying job Dean had done. It couldn’t have been out there long. In this weather if it had been out there more than a few hours without shelter it would have been done for, but it was still moving and breathing and staring at Dean with reproachful yellow eyes, demanding to be picked up and returned to that warm spot against Dean’s chest.

Dean stared it down for a moment and then cursed. “Fine,” he growled at it, picking it up and returning it to its spot against his chest, thanking whatever it was that controlled those things that Sam hadn’t been in the room to witness his failure in that particular battle of wills. “But only because I know body heat is the best cure for hypothermia.” He lay down on the bed with it held against his chest and draped Sam’s shirt over it.

Sam paused for a moment at the door of the motel, shifting his bag of groceries to his other hand. He could hear the TV going inside the room, some kind of infomercial with a freakishly happy announcer. Dean’s voice was rumbling quietly, the calm, even tone Sam remembered from the days it had been used on him. I’m here. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll fix this. That was what the tone said, even as the words said, “Five weeks, my ass. That’s a different person. They can’t seriously expect people to believe that a fitness machine can make you lose 50 pounds and grow three inches and a different nose in five weeks.” Sam grinned and opened the door.

“Talking to someone?”

Dean jumped. “Little bastard didn’t want your shirt. Seems she’s not blind after all.”

Sam looked at him in confusion. “I never thought she was blind.”

“Whatever. Did you get milk and crap?”

Sam warmed a little milk and poured it into a saucer. Hopefully the kitten was old enough to lap on its own. It looked like it could probably manage it, just. It didn’t look like an alien anymore, so it was probably at least couple of weeks old. “Here, I’ll take her. You go have a shower and stuff.”

Dean rolled off the bed. “Nah, I’m good.” He placed the kitten on the table, beside the saucer. “Tomorrow we take it to a shelter, though. We’re not keeping it, Sam.”

If it lives that long, Sam thought. He watched his brother aim the wobbly kitten at the milk. The kitten sniffed it in confusion and fell over. Dean dipped a finger in the milk and held a drop out for the kitten to lick.

“You don’t have to do that, Dean. You go to sleep. I found it, I’ll feed it.” The kitten licked another droplet off Dean’s fingertip. Damn it, he was stealing Sam’s kitten. That they were giving away tomorrow. But Sam had found it, and he’d only got to hold it for 15 seconds before Dean had taken over.

“I know you, man,” Dean said, holding his finger closer to the saucer of milk, so the kitten nearly had its face in there. “You start playing with it, and you’re just gonna get attached and turn into a giant weepy chick when we have to give it away.”

Sam privately thought that Dean was going to be the one turning into a giant weepy chick, the way he was looking at that thing.

XXX

Sam wasn't sure what had woken him at first. He lay in bed listening, body tense in case of an intruder. He glanced over to the bed closest to the door and found his brother still sound asleep on his stomach, one hand stuffed under his pillow no doubt clutching his bowie knife. Just as he was about to roll his eyes - 'Precaution', my ass - a tiny gagging sound came from the bathroom. Sam climbed out of bed to investigate and promptly stepped in a wet spot on the rug. Quickly shucking off his socks, he made his way to the bathroom only to find the poor little kitten barely able to hold itself up as it threw up again. The pitiful whimpers Sam heard just about broke his heart.

"Aww, it's alright. M'not gonna hurt you. It's ok." He murmured soothingly as he cleaned up the mess. Sam cradled the kitten and tried rubbing its belly in hopes of relieving the symptoms. Five minutes later, it was clear that this wasn't a simple stomachache.

Just as the kitten was retching yet again, Dean shuffled over with concern and pillow creases on his face. "What the hell did you do to it?!" He accused.

"Me? I didn't do anything! I woke up to find it puking." Sam's eyebrows hit his hairline as Dean promptly took the kitten from him and cradled it, rocking softly. “It’s pretty sick, man. I think we should take it to a vet.”

Dean sighed, looking down at the retching ball of fluff in his hands. “You’re just going out of your way to cause us trouble, aren’t you? Do you know how much vets cost? Huh?”

Sam sent his best imploring look in Dean’s direction. Of course, there was absolutely no question about whether they would end up taking it to the vet. Dean was a sucker for small, fluffy things with big eyes, and had a guilt complex like nobody else in the world. There was no chance he was going to let it die. But it was Dean, and Dean was weird about stuff like this. He thought people would think less of him for liking cute things, or something. “I know it’ll be expensive, man, but we saved it and I… I really don’t want it to die,” Sam said.

Dean was already moving toward the door. “Of course we’re taking it to the vet. I’m not a psychopath. Dude, do you really think I’d just let it die?” He looked down at the kitten again. “Now, you hang on till we find a vet. Sammy’s gonna be real sad if you don’t make it.”

XXX

Eleanor glanced out the glass front of the pet store from her post at the register when she spotted a big black car peeling into the parking lot. Two large men climbed out and seemed to share a heavy look. That silent communication combined with the way the shorter of the two was hiding something in his jacket put Eleanor on edge. She had just read something in the paper yesterday about kids these days so hopped up on drugs that they'd even rob veterinary pharmacies just to get them. If that was the case, there was no way she'd be able to hold her ground against those two boys. The last time she took a self defense class she'd been 40. And it's been a hell of a long time since she was 40. Still, she made sure to track their progress as they came into the shop, one finger on the security button under the counter. Oh yea, these two definitely were after drugs. Leather Jacket was clutching his bundle and glancing around with a frantic look on his face. He was probably due for his next hit. Suddenly, they were making a beeline right for her. Eleanor braced herself as he reached inside of his jacket and pulled out...

A kitten?

"We need help, ma'am." He was saying. "We found her last night on the side of the road. She's pretty tiny so we tried to feed her but she threw it all up this morning." The pleading look in his big, green eyes convinced Eleanor to let go of her tight hold on the alarm button.

"Alright, hon. You boys came to the right place. Come on back and we'll see what we can do, ok?" She couldn't help wanting to soothe these boys. They weren't robbers or druggies. Despite their size, they barely looked like anything more than kids to her. "Dr. Camden, we have an emergency here." She explained to the veterinarian on call.

A younger woman stepped over as Dean set the towel-wrapped kitten on the exam table. "What seems to be the problem?"

"We found her yesterday." Sam chimed in. "Almost hit her with the car last night. We took her home and fed her some milk since she looked like she hadn't eaten in a while but she's been throwing up all morning. Now she's barely responsive at all." The worry was clear on his face as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother who was gently stroking the kitten.

The vet nodded and started to examine the kitten. "She is very young. Should probably still be drinking from her mother. Cats can't drink cows' milk but we do have some kitten formula you can give her. I think she might have a cold as well. If she was out last night as you described, I wouldn't doubt it with all that rain we had. The combination of the two has done her in."

Green eyes snapped to hers with worry. "She'll be ok though, right? I mean, if we feed her and give her medicine or something?"

"I can't make any guarantees unfortunately. And she is very young. But we will give it our best shot ok? If we're careful and diligent I think she'll pull through. She's rather strong to have made it this far." The vet nodded as she gave the kitten a shot of antibiotics and some electrolytes to boost her immune system. With the kitten once again carefully bundled in Dean's jacket, Eleanor and the vet led the brothers back out to the pet shop and showed them all the supplies they'd need from a heating blanket to bottles, formula, and eventually wet food. They also added food bowls, a litter box, and cat litter to their cart.

Eleanor bagged their purchases as Dr. Camden gave them some final instructions. "Here is the antibiotic. Give her one dropper's worth twice a day. It's flavored so she shouldn't give you too much trouble with it. As for the formula, the feeding instructions are right on the bottle. I'd suggest giving her multiple small meals throughout the day rather than two or three large meals, at least at first. She might still throw up but as long as it's not too traumatic, it's probably just her body learning to adjust." She explains gently. "I want you guys to bring her back in five days for a checkup just to be sure she's on the right path, ok?" She smiled as they both nodded seriously.

"No no, don't worry about it." Eleanor told Sam as he tried to pay. "It's on the house."

"No we can't do that. Please. Take it." Sam held out the money. It was more than the cost even required. "Consider it a donation, then." He smiled, picking up their bags and ushering his brother out.

Dean looked back at the women over his shoulder. "Thank you." He said meaningfully, cradling his tiny charge as if it were made of glass. With a grateful smile, he followed Sam to the car and they pulled away.

XXX

Sam smiled, looking down at his brother. Dean was fast asleep, flat on his back, a tiny ball of fluff curled up in the curve between his neck and his shoulder.

It had been nearly a week since they’d found the kitten, and it had made a remarkable recovery. The problem was what to do with it now. The fact was, much as Sam would like to keep her, they couldn’t take a cat with them on the road. It would be cruel to keep it cooped up in the car all the time, not to mention the fact that it was almost impossible to train a cat. But every time Sam tried to bring it up, Dean would change the subject. Okay, not every time. Sometimes he pretended to be asleep.

The kitten stirred and clambered to its feet, snuffling at Dean’s face, batting him with a tiny paw. An unattractive feeling of jealousy rose in Sam’s gut. Why did she like Dean better than him? He was just as gentle with her as Dean was and he’d managed to convince his brother to let him feed her half the time. Yet she still always picked Dean. It wasn’t fair. Still, it was nice to see the way Dean smiled at her when he thought no one was looking.

Dean was waking up. It was time. They were going to have to discuss this. They couldn’t keep her. Not on the hunt. There was an ache in Sam’s throat as he imagined giving her up. His vision suddenly went blurry. Stupid watery eyes.

Dean opened his eyes and looked down at the kitten, who was now exploring his chest, apparently fascinated by the thin grey fabric of his t-shirt, and the feel of his muscles under her paws. “Hey there, princess,” he mumbled, “Is it breakfast time for little kitties?”

Sam couldn’t stop his snort of laughter. “Did you just say…”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, sitting up and lifting the kitten from his chest, placing her in his lap. “Shut up. I was practically asleep. It doesn’t count.”

Okay. They couldn’t give her away now. There was way too much fodder to use against Dean here. A thought struck him. “Hey, Bobby's having a birthday soon, right?”