Junkyard Dogs
Title: Junkyard dogs
Author: missyjack
Rating: PG-13
Character: Bobby
Genre: Gen
Words: 533
Spoilers: No, although sort of informed by events of S01 and 02.
Disclaimer: Kripke owns this show and this fandom and my heart
Summary: Bobby often takes in strays
A/N: This is for embroiderama on the occassion of her birthday. Happy Birthday! It's not the fic I wanted to write you but my muse has been in intensive care since S02. This fic is part of her rehab.
Inspirational icon by graphixbyebonio
Two junkyard dogs pace between the steel skeletons of cars picked clean of panels and parts. They are hunters, not pets, all sinew and muscle and attitude. It’s not clear which one is the dominant dog; you get the sense they have yet to fight that one out.
As they patrol the yard they seem to behave as if each is on his own, but as you watch you notice they are acutely aware, each of the other.
A set distance is maintained between them. If one gets too close, a short sharp growl halts him in his tracks. Sometimes it’s ignored, and teeth will mark flesh in warning. If they get too far apart, or out of sight of each other, one will flop down on the dusty ground seemingly resting, with his tongue lolling from his mouth and flanks heaving in the sun. His nose and ears will betray his vigilance, which he’ll maintain until his companion is close again.
When a common enemy appears - a feral cat or a trespassing human - the dogs work as a team. Tracking, stalking, chasing their prey. They’ll trap their quarry, barking out spittle-flecked threats. If necessary, neither will hesitate when it comes to the kill, although it brings them no joy, and often no satisfaction.
Sometimes after a hunt, you’ll see them play. Two dogs rolling around, nuzzling with blood-stained muzzles and wrestling, briefly exuberant, before they break apart and stalk off as if nothing has happened.
Bobby knows a bit about dogs; he always seems to be picking up strays. It isn’t that he is some do-gooder dog nut, it is just that some dogs are better of in a junkyard eating scraps than having the crap beaten out of them by some asshole. Not all the evil Bobby sees is supernatural.
If a dog is kicked and whipped enough, suffers enough pain, Bobby knows that it will change. Some will break, and live out their days cowering in corners, frightened of their own shadow. Others will get nasty - try and rip apart anything or anyone, friend or foe, that comes near.
A few will appear unaffected, friendly and playful, until one day something will snap and he’ll turn on you. All of them will flinch at raised hand, always expecting a blow, unable to distinguish a kind intent from a mean one.
Occasionally Bobby has to kill them, put a bullet in their brain and end a life that is miserable for them and dangerous to others.
If Bobby gets to a dog that isn’t too badly damaged, he can help it. He gives them free run of the yard, food, and lets them find out that pain can subside with time, and that there are some places free of hurt in the world. These things can go a long way to restoring some trust.
Maybe they’ll never be lap dogs, never curl up on a child’s bed but he found homes for some where they’ll fit in. Homes where someone will care about them and maybe say their name with affection. Somewhere they can live a life where the pain is only a memory.
In Bobby’s world, that isn’t a bad life.
.