A/N: Story title is from that old saying: you never miss your water 'til the well runs dry.

Summary: Coyote sees something that freaks him out. Spoilers for It's a Terrible Life. If you haven't seen this episode, don't read this. One shot in the Coyote 'verse.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment purposes only, not for profit.


Dean leans in underneath the Impala's hood, humming various Metallica and AC/DC songs to his baby as he works. Yeah, he knows he could just wave a hand and the spark plugs would change themselves, but he's hands on. Always has been. Bobby's been nice about letting him and Dad and Sam stay, and Dean has no problem helping out around the yard. He's got three more cars to work on after the Impala's done. No problem. He's glad to help out.

Something prickles at the back of his neck. Dean always jokes about it, calls it his Spidey sense. He knows it's Coyote, back from where ever it is he goes when the old dog decides to wander.

Dean straightens up and turns around. He opens his mouth to say something, and all of a sudden his breath is nearly cut off as Coyote grabs him around the midsection and squeezes.

It's bad enough being hugged, but being hugged by a coyote the size of a large pony is something else again. Dean cocks his head to one side as he picks up on the vibe the Old Man's giving off.

Dean rolls his eyes. Damn chick flick moment.

The Old Man gets like this sometimes.

"There, there. There, there," Dean says, deadpan. He pats Coyote on the shoulder and the furball squeezes his eyes shut even tighter.

Not being able to breathe soon becomes a factor. Besides, the Old Man's reaction is freaking Dean right the hell out.

"Hell with this," Dean growls roughly, shoving at the critter. "Get off me."

Coyote backs up on his hind legs, and Dean just stares at him.

Old Man Coyote, the Master of Disaster, Roamer, Fine Young Chief Howling In The Dawn In the East, God's Dog…looks like he's been crying.

Damn.

Coyote blinks those wide green eyes of his. His ears droop, and one corner of his mouth turns upward and then downward in this weird trembling motion. He's wibbling.

Wibbling.

Dean can't remember where the hell he saw or heard that word from before. Sam probably used it.

Yeah. Sounds like a Sam word.

" All right. What'd you see?" Dean rumbles.

Coyote wipes at the corner of his eyes with his paws. Tail's dragging. He looks like one dejected pup. "I didn't ---"

"Come on. You saw something in that alternate universe. I don't know why the hell you even go over there if it bothers you so much."

"Got somethin' in my eye, that's all," Roamer mutters. He stands there staring at Dean like he wants to say something more.

"Well, what was it? Something about me? I was changed into a girl? I got pregnant and had a demon baby? Sam and I switched bodies? I went to hell and an angel pulled me out? I was repeatedly violated by aliens? What?" Dean wipes his hands on a rag. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No, Doctor Phil. I don't ," the furball snaps. " 'm not in a sharing or caring mood."

"Fine," Dean snaps back. "I'm not either."

"Fine. Good!"

Dean goes back to work. He doesn't miss a thing, of course. Doesn't miss the way Coyote just sits there, over to the side, staring at him. Pretty soon the Old Man is sprawled out on his side, snoring. He twitches in his sleep, mutters something about red suspenders, blue and white striped shirts, and "a damn Prius."

"No red meat," Coyote moans to himself. "A salad. My kid ate a salad. Damn that Zachariah…" He shudders from head to tail.

Coyote never mentions what he saw, and Dean doesn't ask. Probably something freaky. It always is.

In the next few days Dean drives his classic car, hunts down as many evil sonsabitches as he possibly can, fornicates with several beautiful women, and eats red meat whenever he can. He's not sweating the cholesterol.

It's a wonderful life.

-30-