The room was not how he had left it. Dean thought there may be a Boy Scout rule about leaving a place better than when you got there. Maybe it was a Girl Scout rule. He didn't particularly want to know why there might be a part of his brain occupied with knowing Boy or Girl Scout rules, especially Girl Scout. Either way, the room sure as shit wasn't better than how he had left it.

Unless John Winchester improved everything. But John never seemed to improve Sammy's mood, which sometimes was unstable at best. This didn't mean Dean wasn't pleased to see the man, because he was. It was just that the situation looked a little grim.

He had left with the puppy snoozing on Sam, and Sam getting ready to follow suit while sprawled on the bed. Now John was giving Sam that flat-eyed look of angry disapproval and Sam was staring at a spot on the wall just beyond their father's left shoulder, jaw clenched like he was holding his temper in. That was never good with Sam. The more he held himself in check, the colder and angrier he became. Bad. All sorts of bad.

The puppy? Well, he had picked up on Sam's displeasure, and its little lip was curled back from admittedly sharp little fangs. Time to disarm the puppy, but that meant disarming Sam.

"Hi, Dad. I didn't get enough food for you. You want Sam's?"

"Hey!" Sam squawked, breaking off his glaring contest with the wall, whose greatest sin was being situated behind their father. Okay, so that horrid striped wallpaper wasn't helping its case any. Anyway, Dean won, Dad broke even, and the wall got to live to look hideous for one more day. All Dean had wanted to was to derail Sam's anger train. Once that was done, he figured he could distract the puppy. That thing was far too smart and way too in tune with Sammy for its own good.

He dropped the large bag of diner takeout on the table with a grocery bag from the local store. He scooped up the puppy and firmly did not look at his father. It took two hands now, and its snarl tapered off into a curious noise as it dangled in front of Dean's face. "You, little dude, need to relax. That's our dad you're snarling at." The puppy sighed.

He set the little guy down and took out a tray of ground beef. Part of if went onto a Styrofoam plate with a plop, which he set in front of the puppy on the floor. The rest went into a cheap-ass cooler for later.

"You feed it raw meat." John sounded like he couldn't quite believe these idiots were related to him.

"Yeah, well. I wouldn't want to eat dog food either. That stuff smells nasty." Dean expertly pretended to be oblivious, as he divvied up the fast food he had brought back for himself and his brother. John got half of Sam's fries and one of Dean's two burgers. Beggars can't be choosers, or something like that.

"You're giving it a taste for flesh."

"Well, it is a carnivore. Besides, he won't eat kibble." Dean sat at the table and pointed a fry at his father. "But you will be happy to know that he hasn't tried to gnaw off any of our tender fingers or toes yet."

John ate a fry and looked like he was trying to be reasonable. "And when instinct gets the better of it and it wants to attack something?"

Sam grinned around his burger. "He mauls Dean's clean socks." There was a beat of silence. "But not mine."