Drabble prompt: dog

A/N: Ya know the drill, Phoebe. Your fault.

Disclaimer: This is just for fun, not profit. Thanks, Eric.

John stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Sammy sitting on the floor next to the dog. Nice one: big, blond, a wolfish-looking shepherd mix. A few strays hung around the motel, but the rule was no dogs allowed in the room. The boys both knew that.

Seven year old Sam sat there wide-eyed. His bottom lip trembled slightly. He blurted out that he found that dusty old bronze lamp in the vacant lot next door and "Dad, Dean dared me to rub it, Dean laughed at me…"

Oh, God.

"Sammy?" John said slowly. "Where's your brother?"

Dean barked.