Fic: Distant Relations (16/?)
Title: Distant Relations (16/?)
Author: sierraphoenix
Rating: FR15
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural.
Characters/Pairings: No pairings. Xander, Dean, Sam.
Summary: Xander learns the truth about his parentage and must decide whether or not to seek out his real father.
Notes: Sorry for the long wait. Hopefully that won't happen again.
Previous chapters can be found at Twisting the Hellmouth, Supernaturally Twisted, or My Website.
Major thanks to Lisette for beta-ing this for me! :)
*****
Shadows enveloped Avery like a mother's embrace, its cool darkness slithering over her skin. It kept her safe and hidden, tucked away from their eyes. She, however, was not bound by such limitations; her keen eyesight allowed her to watch them as if in broad daylight, tracking them with malicious intent.
She had followed them from Martha's to the woods and then started trailing them. She moved like a wraith behind them, soundless; they couldn't possibly know she was there. But her ears caught every movement they made, even the slightest brush. She could track them by sound alone if she wanted, especially with the way they argued at the top of their lungs. Stupid humans.
"We know what we're doing, Xander. Just follow our lead," the tall one was saying.
The argument elevated, Xander's voice echoing through the trees. "You're wrong! We need to go back to that house. We'll never find her out here."
So Xander was a hunter, and he was hunting for her. He had lied to her. She'd make him pay for that.
"I'm the one in charge here," Dean yelled. "And if you have a problem with that, we can finish this on our own."
"Fine." Xander ground out. "I'll go back there by myself."
"Fine," Dean returned just as bitingly. "Sam, let's go."
The taller one followed dutifully, barely sparing a glance as the two left Xander behind, and Xander did an about-face, stomping off in the opposite direction.
Avery smirked, unseen in the shadows. Humans were so quick to turn on each other; it almost made this too easy. She ignored the two older brothers in favor of her new toy, slipping noiselessly from her hiding spot and falling in behind Xander. She didn't even bother keeping to the shadows. If Xander were to turn around, he'd spot her easily; but he marched onward, completely unaware of her presence.
Some hunter he is, Avery thought.
She closed in swiftly, eager to exact her revenge. Her fist darted out, striking the back of his head like a viper, and he dropped at her feet like a sack of rocks.
Reaching down, she hefted his weight and smiled to herself. "Much too easy."
*****
Xander came to awareness with a sinking sense of déjà vu. If he was right - and he probably was - he'd been knocked out. Again. The setup was familiar: rope around his wrists, Avery's house, the sacrificial circle. Xander sighed heavily and levered himself upright. "Here we go again."
"Oh good. For a minute, I was worried you were going to miss the show." Avery stood a few feet off to the side, petting Fang, who, despite Dean's best efforts, was still very much alive. And, boy, did he look pissed. "Go stand watch outside," Avery commanded with one last brush of her hand.
Fang snarled at Xander before leaving to do as his master bid.
"Xander, Xander, Xander." Avery tsked, shaking her head and moving toward him.
His glib reply was dulled by the fuzziness of his latest concussion and his nervousness. "That's my name, don't wear it out."
She was apparently not very impressed with his attempted humor. "I'm very disappointed in you. All this time I thought your brothers were the hunters, but you're just like them."
Xander shrugged. "Well, what can I say? Guess it runs in the family."
"Maybe so." Avery smiled like the joke was on him. "But your family isn't here now, are they?"
Xander glared back and her smile widened.
Her eyes melted to white, and she began circling him, stretching as she went like she was trying to work out a kink in her back - or work her way out of her skin, as it turned out. It looked like an egg hatching; Xander half expected one of the creatures from Alien to burst from her stomach. Her skin pulled taut till it began splitting and ripping apart.
Xander cringed when the first tentacle appeared, dripping with slime and mucus. A litany of 'I knew this was a bad idea' started up in his head. He had a feeling this was going to get messy. Even as he thought it, one of Avery's tentacles shot out and wrapped itself around his arm. It burned against his bare skin, and his eyes watered. There was a distant rumbling sound, and Fang's howls could be heard echoing just outside the house, but Xander and Avery were too preoccupied to take any notice.
The rest of her Avery-costume slipped away like the tattered remains of a busted balloon, baring her true demon form, tentacles, oozing yellow goo, and all. It was even uglier than the picture, Xander thought absently through the searing pain in his arm.
The rest of her tentacles reached out to join the first, and the burning sensation increased, along with a sinking, swirling feeling that was nauseating. It felt like the life was literally being sucked out of him, directly through his skin. The air felt thick, and he gasped for breath as his lungs began to fail. He hunched over, barely managing to keep himself from slumping to the floor. Just as his vision was starting to darken, Xander caught a blur of motion from the corner of his eye. There was an ear-splitting screech, and suddenly he was able to breath again, ravenously sucking in oxygen. He felt heavy and exhausted, more drained than he ever remembered feeling.
It took most of the energy he had to pry his eyes open; his vision still swam slightly, but he was able to make out the struggling figures of Sam and Demon-Avery. Sam wasn't having much luck holding his own. One of Avery's tentacles had wrapped around Sam's neck, lifting him the air. His hands clawed at the slimy appendage that prevented him from breathing as his feet kicked at the air, struggling to find purchase.
It was all happening in a fog to Xander, like his mind couldn't connect what he was seeing to any coherent thought. There was something he should be doing, something he needed to do. Sam needed him, he realized with a start. Fighting off the lethargy that continued to weigh him down, he reached mechanically for the gun, hidden under his pant leg near his ankle. The bindings hampered his movements some, but he managed an acceptable grip.
The gun felt heavy as an anvil in his hands, but by some miracle he raised it up, wavering only slightly under the weight. He took aim at what he thought might be the demon's heart, squinted his eyes against the blurred vision, and just hoped to God he didn't accidentally shoot Sam. He pulled the trigger: once, twice; kept shooting till he'd emptied the clip. The silence that followed was deafening, and for a moment nothing seemed to happen; the scene froze like a macabre painting. Xander worried that he'd failed.
Then with dramatic slowness, Avery's body began to lean until finally it toppled to the floor with a wet slap. Sam's feet hit the floor, and he staggered, remaining upright only by the grace of God as he unwrapped the now-limp tentacle from around his neck.
Convinced that the drama was finally over, Xander flopped back and closed his eyes, letting a tired sigh escape. "The next time I volunteer to be bait, please remember to slap me."
"Will do," Sam promised, followed by a brief coughing spell. He moved over to Xander, reaching down and grabbing an arm to help pull him up.
As Sam pulled out a pocketknife and began cutting through his bonds, Xander asked. "Where's Dean?"
"He said that he and Fang had some unfinished business to-" As he said the words, the front door was flung open with a bang, and both Xander and Sam gaped when Dean came staggering in, covered from head to toe in a dark blue sludge; there wasn't an inch of him that wasn't covered.
"Sam, Xander! Are you guys all right?" Dean spotted the dead demon on the floor, and his face twisted with disgust. "Guess the plan worked." Sam and Xander were still staring at the gruesome mess covering Dean. When he noticed where their gazes were drawn, he looked down at himself, as if only just noticing the disaster now that he was no longer preoccupied with worrying about his brothers, and with a grimace exclaimed, "Son of a bitch! Why am I always the one that gets covered in demon gunk?"
Xander raised his hand like they were in a class setting. "I'll trade you that for my concussions." He rubbed the back of his skull. "Good thing I'm as hard-headed as Willow says I am."
"Try getting strangled every time," Sam threw in his own complaint. "Nice timing, by the way. If you hadn't shot Avery when you did, I probably would have blacked out."
Dean gave the demon corpse a cursory glance, noticing the eight bullet wounds, all center mass. "Damn. That's some good aim you've got there."
Even Xander was surprised by his prowess. "Wow. And I was just glad I didn't end up shooting Sam."
"What?" Sam flicked a startled glance at Xander.
"Looks like that army stuff stuck even better than I thought," the younger man continued, eyeing the demon carcass with a little pride.
"Whoa, whoa. When was the last time you actually shot a gun?" Dean asked.
"Well, actually, it was just the once. Guns aren't much use in Sunnydale."
Dean's eyebrows rose. "You mean the only time you've ever actually shot a gun was when you were under that spell or whatever?"
Xander nervously cleared his throat. "I didn't mention that?"
Sam paled, and Dean frowned, reaching over and pulling the gun out of Xander's hand.
"No more gunplay until you've had some practice at the shooting range," Dean ordered with a reprimanding glare.
They lapsed into a tired silence, gazes dropping to the gooey yellow body at their feet.
"I 'spose we should do something about this," Sam commented wearily.
A manic grin lit Dean's face. "I've got an idea."
"Dean, we are not going to torch the house!" Sam cut in immediately.
"Aw, why not?!" Dean whined.
Sam sighed and turned to Xander as if asking for back-up.
"Oh, don't look at me," the younger man denied. "I helped to blow up my high school on graduation day."
Dean chuckled and slapped Xander on the shoulder. "Good man."
Sam rolled his eyes and shouldered past the two, heading for the door and muttering as he went, "This entire family is nuts."
The other two followed behind, Dean quizzing Xander. "So what'd you use? C4? Dynamite?"
They went outside, heading to the far back side of the house where Sam and Dean had left the Impala. Dean popped the trunk, and the three of them gathered up the supplies needed to torch the house, Sam grumbling to himself, "I can't believe we're doing this," the whole time.
They returned to the house, dousing the inside and outside with lighter fluid. As Xander finished circling around the outside, coming back to the front to meet up with Sam and Dean, he spotted a faucet with a water hose attached. A thought occurred to him, and his mouth curled mischievously. He grabbed up the hose in one hand, bent it into a kink, then turned on the water.
Dean was about to light a match when Xander said, "You know, before we burn this place maybe we should…" He trailed as he prepared to let loose the hose.
"Should what?" Dean prompted as he turned to Xander only to stop short when a spray of water hit him in the face. "GAH!" He waved his arms wildly, vainly trying to ward off the water. Eventually he gathered enough wits to step out of the line of fire.
Xander was laughing too hard to follow him with the hose.
"What the hell was that for?" Dean demanded.
"Just thought…that you could…do with a shower," Xander wheezed out between laughs, doubling over.
Dean looked down at himself. "Right, because slimy and soaked is such an improvement." The derisive statement sent Xander into peals of laughter again. "It's not that funny."
"You should have seen your face," Xander choked out, cackling.
"You know you're going to pay for this, right?" Dean warned.
"You know," Sam interjected, "he has a point. You're not going to want to get in the car like that."
"All right, that's it," Dean said, finally fed up with Xander's laughter. He made to run at Xander, but the younger man was too quick and turned the hose on him again, causing Dean to splutter as the spray hit him in the face. "God damnit. You're riding in the trunk from here on out!"
Sam threw his hands up in aggravation, marching over to grab the hose out of Xander's hand. "Here," he said, holding out a matchbook. "You light up the house, and I'll finish hosing off Mister Sunshine."
Xander shrugged and relinquished his hold on the hose, trading it for Sam's matches. As Xander wandered closer to the house and Dean prepared himself for the spray again, Sam added under his breath, "Seriously, like preschoolers."
"I heard that!" Xander and Dean exclaimed in unison.
Annoyed, Sam sprayed Dean with the hose more vigorously than was probably necessary, and Dean cursed.
Sam chuckled and commented to Xander, "You know, this is kind of fun. Nice stress-reliever."
"I just want you two to know that whatever happens," Dean began stoically, "you brought it on yourselves."
Sam's only response was to spray Dean some more, laughing as the older man grimaced.
Xander smiled at the scene and shook his head, then turned to the house, readying to strike up a match. He stopped when he heard a faint keening. "Do you guys hear that?"
He cocked his head and moved along the side of the house, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. He drew close to the porch and then crouched near the ground, inspecting a small hole in the side of the wall, barely large enough for a hand to fit through, that opened to a small place underneath the house. The wall around it was grooved with claw marks.
Sam and Dean stopped what they were doing and crowded around Xander as he peered into the hole.
"Be careful," Sam cautioned. "There's no telling what could be in there."
Xander squinted into the darkness, and as his eyes adjusted he was just able to make out a small shape; it looked almost like- "I don't believe it!"
He reached his hand into the hole, ignoring Dean's protests that something could bite it off, and pulled out a small, furry mass that was trembling and covered in mud. "Spot!"
Xander looked up at the two older men with a huge grin. "He's alive! Avery must not have known he was hiding here." He turned back to the puppy, smoothing out its fur with his hand. "I guess sometimes it pays to be the runt."
"What is that?" Dean asked, barely able to recognize the dog for what it was with all the mud caked on it.
Xander stood, holding the dog protectively to his chest. "Avery and I picked him up from the grocery store in town. She said that Razor had eaten him, but he must have managed to get away and hide under the house. It's a good thing I found him when I did."
Dean didn't look nearly as enthused about their new addition as Xander did. "I guess we'll have to drop him off back at town."
"We can't do that," Sam corrected. "After we burn the house, we're going to have to get out of town as quickly as possible. It's risky enough as it is."
"Then we'll just leave him here," Dean amended.
Both Sam and Xander turned to Dean, faces appalled.
"We can't leave him here!" Xander said.
"What the hell are we going to do with a dog in the car?" Dean asked.
Dean looked between the two; they could have been twins from the identical expression they wore, sad-eyed and imploring. Even the dog was in on it.
In the face of three puppy-dog stares, including one from an actual puppy, even Dean couldn't say no. He sighed in resignation. "If he makes a mess in my car, you're both walking." He grabbed the matches out of Xander's other hand. "Now it's my turn for some stress-relief. Rinse that dog off some while I torch this sucker."
Xander turned the hose on Spot and did his best to get rid of the mud, spraying much more gently than either Sam or Xander had with Dean, meanwhile Dean lit the house up with a gleeful smirk.
Just as dawn was beginning to break across the sky, the three brothers, plus one Dalmatian puppy, piled into the black Impala. They hit the highway, leaving a burning house in their wake, and two hours later found themselves at the Sleep-Well Motel. Xander was already asleep, sprawled across the backseat with Spot dozing soundly on his stomach, curled up in one of Xander's old t-shirts.
Sam and Dean didn't even bother trying to wake him; between the two of them they managed to move him from the car to the motel bed, with Xander sleeping obliviously through the whole thing. Spot stirred as he was placed on the bed next to Xander, looked around blearily for a moment, then crawled back to his previous position on Xander's stomach, circled a few times, and finally curled up and went back to sleep.
Sam and Dean both collapsed onto the other bed, and within a few seconds everyone in the room was dead to the world.
Author: sierraphoenix
Rating: FR15
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural.
Characters/Pairings: No pairings. Xander, Dean, Sam.
Summary: Xander learns the truth about his parentage and must decide whether or not to seek out his real father.
Notes: Sorry for the long wait. Hopefully that won't happen again.
Previous chapters can be found at Twisting the Hellmouth, Supernaturally Twisted, or My Website.
Major thanks to Lisette for beta-ing this for me! :)
*****
Shadows enveloped Avery like a mother's embrace, its cool darkness slithering over her skin. It kept her safe and hidden, tucked away from their eyes. She, however, was not bound by such limitations; her keen eyesight allowed her to watch them as if in broad daylight, tracking them with malicious intent.
She had followed them from Martha's to the woods and then started trailing them. She moved like a wraith behind them, soundless; they couldn't possibly know she was there. But her ears caught every movement they made, even the slightest brush. She could track them by sound alone if she wanted, especially with the way they argued at the top of their lungs. Stupid humans.
"We know what we're doing, Xander. Just follow our lead," the tall one was saying.
The argument elevated, Xander's voice echoing through the trees. "You're wrong! We need to go back to that house. We'll never find her out here."
So Xander was a hunter, and he was hunting for her. He had lied to her. She'd make him pay for that.
"I'm the one in charge here," Dean yelled. "And if you have a problem with that, we can finish this on our own."
"Fine." Xander ground out. "I'll go back there by myself."
"Fine," Dean returned just as bitingly. "Sam, let's go."
The taller one followed dutifully, barely sparing a glance as the two left Xander behind, and Xander did an about-face, stomping off in the opposite direction.
Avery smirked, unseen in the shadows. Humans were so quick to turn on each other; it almost made this too easy. She ignored the two older brothers in favor of her new toy, slipping noiselessly from her hiding spot and falling in behind Xander. She didn't even bother keeping to the shadows. If Xander were to turn around, he'd spot her easily; but he marched onward, completely unaware of her presence.
Some hunter he is, Avery thought.
She closed in swiftly, eager to exact her revenge. Her fist darted out, striking the back of his head like a viper, and he dropped at her feet like a sack of rocks.
Reaching down, she hefted his weight and smiled to herself. "Much too easy."
*****
Xander came to awareness with a sinking sense of déjà vu. If he was right - and he probably was - he'd been knocked out. Again. The setup was familiar: rope around his wrists, Avery's house, the sacrificial circle. Xander sighed heavily and levered himself upright. "Here we go again."
"Oh good. For a minute, I was worried you were going to miss the show." Avery stood a few feet off to the side, petting Fang, who, despite Dean's best efforts, was still very much alive. And, boy, did he look pissed. "Go stand watch outside," Avery commanded with one last brush of her hand.
Fang snarled at Xander before leaving to do as his master bid.
"Xander, Xander, Xander." Avery tsked, shaking her head and moving toward him.
His glib reply was dulled by the fuzziness of his latest concussion and his nervousness. "That's my name, don't wear it out."
She was apparently not very impressed with his attempted humor. "I'm very disappointed in you. All this time I thought your brothers were the hunters, but you're just like them."
Xander shrugged. "Well, what can I say? Guess it runs in the family."
"Maybe so." Avery smiled like the joke was on him. "But your family isn't here now, are they?"
Xander glared back and her smile widened.
Her eyes melted to white, and she began circling him, stretching as she went like she was trying to work out a kink in her back - or work her way out of her skin, as it turned out. It looked like an egg hatching; Xander half expected one of the creatures from Alien to burst from her stomach. Her skin pulled taut till it began splitting and ripping apart.
Xander cringed when the first tentacle appeared, dripping with slime and mucus. A litany of 'I knew this was a bad idea' started up in his head. He had a feeling this was going to get messy. Even as he thought it, one of Avery's tentacles shot out and wrapped itself around his arm. It burned against his bare skin, and his eyes watered. There was a distant rumbling sound, and Fang's howls could be heard echoing just outside the house, but Xander and Avery were too preoccupied to take any notice.
The rest of her Avery-costume slipped away like the tattered remains of a busted balloon, baring her true demon form, tentacles, oozing yellow goo, and all. It was even uglier than the picture, Xander thought absently through the searing pain in his arm.
The rest of her tentacles reached out to join the first, and the burning sensation increased, along with a sinking, swirling feeling that was nauseating. It felt like the life was literally being sucked out of him, directly through his skin. The air felt thick, and he gasped for breath as his lungs began to fail. He hunched over, barely managing to keep himself from slumping to the floor. Just as his vision was starting to darken, Xander caught a blur of motion from the corner of his eye. There was an ear-splitting screech, and suddenly he was able to breath again, ravenously sucking in oxygen. He felt heavy and exhausted, more drained than he ever remembered feeling.
It took most of the energy he had to pry his eyes open; his vision still swam slightly, but he was able to make out the struggling figures of Sam and Demon-Avery. Sam wasn't having much luck holding his own. One of Avery's tentacles had wrapped around Sam's neck, lifting him the air. His hands clawed at the slimy appendage that prevented him from breathing as his feet kicked at the air, struggling to find purchase.
It was all happening in a fog to Xander, like his mind couldn't connect what he was seeing to any coherent thought. There was something he should be doing, something he needed to do. Sam needed him, he realized with a start. Fighting off the lethargy that continued to weigh him down, he reached mechanically for the gun, hidden under his pant leg near his ankle. The bindings hampered his movements some, but he managed an acceptable grip.
The gun felt heavy as an anvil in his hands, but by some miracle he raised it up, wavering only slightly under the weight. He took aim at what he thought might be the demon's heart, squinted his eyes against the blurred vision, and just hoped to God he didn't accidentally shoot Sam. He pulled the trigger: once, twice; kept shooting till he'd emptied the clip. The silence that followed was deafening, and for a moment nothing seemed to happen; the scene froze like a macabre painting. Xander worried that he'd failed.
Then with dramatic slowness, Avery's body began to lean until finally it toppled to the floor with a wet slap. Sam's feet hit the floor, and he staggered, remaining upright only by the grace of God as he unwrapped the now-limp tentacle from around his neck.
Convinced that the drama was finally over, Xander flopped back and closed his eyes, letting a tired sigh escape. "The next time I volunteer to be bait, please remember to slap me."
"Will do," Sam promised, followed by a brief coughing spell. He moved over to Xander, reaching down and grabbing an arm to help pull him up.
As Sam pulled out a pocketknife and began cutting through his bonds, Xander asked. "Where's Dean?"
"He said that he and Fang had some unfinished business to-" As he said the words, the front door was flung open with a bang, and both Xander and Sam gaped when Dean came staggering in, covered from head to toe in a dark blue sludge; there wasn't an inch of him that wasn't covered.
"Sam, Xander! Are you guys all right?" Dean spotted the dead demon on the floor, and his face twisted with disgust. "Guess the plan worked." Sam and Xander were still staring at the gruesome mess covering Dean. When he noticed where their gazes were drawn, he looked down at himself, as if only just noticing the disaster now that he was no longer preoccupied with worrying about his brothers, and with a grimace exclaimed, "Son of a bitch! Why am I always the one that gets covered in demon gunk?"
Xander raised his hand like they were in a class setting. "I'll trade you that for my concussions." He rubbed the back of his skull. "Good thing I'm as hard-headed as Willow says I am."
"Try getting strangled every time," Sam threw in his own complaint. "Nice timing, by the way. If you hadn't shot Avery when you did, I probably would have blacked out."
Dean gave the demon corpse a cursory glance, noticing the eight bullet wounds, all center mass. "Damn. That's some good aim you've got there."
Even Xander was surprised by his prowess. "Wow. And I was just glad I didn't end up shooting Sam."
"What?" Sam flicked a startled glance at Xander.
"Looks like that army stuff stuck even better than I thought," the younger man continued, eyeing the demon carcass with a little pride.
"Whoa, whoa. When was the last time you actually shot a gun?" Dean asked.
"Well, actually, it was just the once. Guns aren't much use in Sunnydale."
Dean's eyebrows rose. "You mean the only time you've ever actually shot a gun was when you were under that spell or whatever?"
Xander nervously cleared his throat. "I didn't mention that?"
Sam paled, and Dean frowned, reaching over and pulling the gun out of Xander's hand.
"No more gunplay until you've had some practice at the shooting range," Dean ordered with a reprimanding glare.
They lapsed into a tired silence, gazes dropping to the gooey yellow body at their feet.
"I 'spose we should do something about this," Sam commented wearily.
A manic grin lit Dean's face. "I've got an idea."
"Dean, we are not going to torch the house!" Sam cut in immediately.
"Aw, why not?!" Dean whined.
Sam sighed and turned to Xander as if asking for back-up.
"Oh, don't look at me," the younger man denied. "I helped to blow up my high school on graduation day."
Dean chuckled and slapped Xander on the shoulder. "Good man."
Sam rolled his eyes and shouldered past the two, heading for the door and muttering as he went, "This entire family is nuts."
The other two followed behind, Dean quizzing Xander. "So what'd you use? C4? Dynamite?"
They went outside, heading to the far back side of the house where Sam and Dean had left the Impala. Dean popped the trunk, and the three of them gathered up the supplies needed to torch the house, Sam grumbling to himself, "I can't believe we're doing this," the whole time.
They returned to the house, dousing the inside and outside with lighter fluid. As Xander finished circling around the outside, coming back to the front to meet up with Sam and Dean, he spotted a faucet with a water hose attached. A thought occurred to him, and his mouth curled mischievously. He grabbed up the hose in one hand, bent it into a kink, then turned on the water.
Dean was about to light a match when Xander said, "You know, before we burn this place maybe we should…" He trailed as he prepared to let loose the hose.
"Should what?" Dean prompted as he turned to Xander only to stop short when a spray of water hit him in the face. "GAH!" He waved his arms wildly, vainly trying to ward off the water. Eventually he gathered enough wits to step out of the line of fire.
Xander was laughing too hard to follow him with the hose.
"What the hell was that for?" Dean demanded.
"Just thought…that you could…do with a shower," Xander wheezed out between laughs, doubling over.
Dean looked down at himself. "Right, because slimy and soaked is such an improvement." The derisive statement sent Xander into peals of laughter again. "It's not that funny."
"You should have seen your face," Xander choked out, cackling.
"You know you're going to pay for this, right?" Dean warned.
"You know," Sam interjected, "he has a point. You're not going to want to get in the car like that."
"All right, that's it," Dean said, finally fed up with Xander's laughter. He made to run at Xander, but the younger man was too quick and turned the hose on him again, causing Dean to splutter as the spray hit him in the face. "God damnit. You're riding in the trunk from here on out!"
Sam threw his hands up in aggravation, marching over to grab the hose out of Xander's hand. "Here," he said, holding out a matchbook. "You light up the house, and I'll finish hosing off Mister Sunshine."
Xander shrugged and relinquished his hold on the hose, trading it for Sam's matches. As Xander wandered closer to the house and Dean prepared himself for the spray again, Sam added under his breath, "Seriously, like preschoolers."
"I heard that!" Xander and Dean exclaimed in unison.
Annoyed, Sam sprayed Dean with the hose more vigorously than was probably necessary, and Dean cursed.
Sam chuckled and commented to Xander, "You know, this is kind of fun. Nice stress-reliever."
"I just want you two to know that whatever happens," Dean began stoically, "you brought it on yourselves."
Sam's only response was to spray Dean some more, laughing as the older man grimaced.
Xander smiled at the scene and shook his head, then turned to the house, readying to strike up a match. He stopped when he heard a faint keening. "Do you guys hear that?"
He cocked his head and moved along the side of the house, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. He drew close to the porch and then crouched near the ground, inspecting a small hole in the side of the wall, barely large enough for a hand to fit through, that opened to a small place underneath the house. The wall around it was grooved with claw marks.
Sam and Dean stopped what they were doing and crowded around Xander as he peered into the hole.
"Be careful," Sam cautioned. "There's no telling what could be in there."
Xander squinted into the darkness, and as his eyes adjusted he was just able to make out a small shape; it looked almost like- "I don't believe it!"
He reached his hand into the hole, ignoring Dean's protests that something could bite it off, and pulled out a small, furry mass that was trembling and covered in mud. "Spot!"
Xander looked up at the two older men with a huge grin. "He's alive! Avery must not have known he was hiding here." He turned back to the puppy, smoothing out its fur with his hand. "I guess sometimes it pays to be the runt."
"What is that?" Dean asked, barely able to recognize the dog for what it was with all the mud caked on it.
Xander stood, holding the dog protectively to his chest. "Avery and I picked him up from the grocery store in town. She said that Razor had eaten him, but he must have managed to get away and hide under the house. It's a good thing I found him when I did."
Dean didn't look nearly as enthused about their new addition as Xander did. "I guess we'll have to drop him off back at town."
"We can't do that," Sam corrected. "After we burn the house, we're going to have to get out of town as quickly as possible. It's risky enough as it is."
"Then we'll just leave him here," Dean amended.
Both Sam and Xander turned to Dean, faces appalled.
"We can't leave him here!" Xander said.
"What the hell are we going to do with a dog in the car?" Dean asked.
Dean looked between the two; they could have been twins from the identical expression they wore, sad-eyed and imploring. Even the dog was in on it.
In the face of three puppy-dog stares, including one from an actual puppy, even Dean couldn't say no. He sighed in resignation. "If he makes a mess in my car, you're both walking." He grabbed the matches out of Xander's other hand. "Now it's my turn for some stress-relief. Rinse that dog off some while I torch this sucker."
Xander turned the hose on Spot and did his best to get rid of the mud, spraying much more gently than either Sam or Xander had with Dean, meanwhile Dean lit the house up with a gleeful smirk.
Just as dawn was beginning to break across the sky, the three brothers, plus one Dalmatian puppy, piled into the black Impala. They hit the highway, leaving a burning house in their wake, and two hours later found themselves at the Sleep-Well Motel. Xander was already asleep, sprawled across the backseat with Spot dozing soundly on his stomach, curled up in one of Xander's old t-shirts.
Sam and Dean didn't even bother trying to wake him; between the two of them they managed to move him from the car to the motel bed, with Xander sleeping obliviously through the whole thing. Spot stirred as he was placed on the bed next to Xander, looked around blearily for a moment, then crawled back to his previous position on Xander's stomach, circled a few times, and finally curled up and went back to sleep.
Sam and Dean both collapsed onto the other bed, and within a few seconds everyone in the room was dead to the world.