Beta'd by the wonderful JenF.




Sam figured this was the worst situation he'd ever been in. After returning to the house, bowls of water and kibble had been shoved under his nose. His only response to that was to wrinkle his nose in distaste and move into a corner of the living room to lie down, wishing he could simply disappear.

He didn't have anything against the small family who'd taken him in, though the girl was a bit too happy for his tastes, but to all intents and purposes he was a dog, except for his state of mind. He would deal with it, for now. If he knew anything at all, it was that his father would never give up until both his sons were back by his side, no matter what the circumstances.


-Took you long enough,- Dean barked jokingly as he and his father exited the Pound. –I was beginning to worry I'd run outta luck.-

"Stop your yapping," John muttered, opening the passenger door of the Impala. "I can't understand a word you're saying, remember?"

-Oh, sorry.-

John shook his head. "And watch your claws! If you scratch the seats, I swear…"

Dean knew exactly, and gingerly clambered in and sat down. His father would kill him if anything damaged his baby. Why, Dean would kill himself too. It had already made the both of them writhe when Sam had spilled a bit of water in the back. Poking holes in the leather seats was out of the question.

-Now what?- Dean asked.

John frowned at the low barks and growls the German shepherd was directing at him, but he had a vague idea of what his son was going on about. "I got the address of the family that picked up Sam. We're going there first before I change you back."

-Sounds good to me.- Sammy was first and foremost on his mind anyway. Always was.


Dean turned to his father.


With that, John reached forward, popping in a cassette tape, and Metallica soon blasted from the speakers.

Dean resisted the urge to sing along, or rather, howl, in his case.


It didn't take long for them to reach their destination. John opened the door for a very antsy Dean, and together they hurried up the steps of the front porch, the same thought going through each of their heads.

Please let Sam be here.

Without a moment's hesitation, John rang the doorbell. A woman answered.

"Yes? Who are you?"

John took a breath. "I'm looking for my dog. Large, dark long fur… The Pound said you adopted him earlier today."


A shaggy head stuck out the door beside her, and Dean gave a small yelp. –Sammy!-

-I knew you'd come,- said Sam.

-Of course! Who else would save your furry butt?-

-You're such a jerk.-

-Back at you, bitch.-

The brotherly banter went on, and John was left to work out an agreement with the woman…and deal with a rather upset little girl.

"Hush, honey," the mother told her child. "If the dog is his like he says he is, then we can't keep him."

"But Mom!-

"No buts. We can always get another."

"Thank you," John told her, "and here…" He shuffled through his wallet quickly and handed her a couple bills. "Sorry for the mess." He then held down a hand. "C'mon, Sammy. Let's go home."

Home… Sam wagged his tail and followed. Sure, home wasn't a nice house with a picket fence, but it was where his father and brother were, and it's where he would be too.

"Bye, Mr. Cuddles!"

Sam didn't look back.

Dean blinked. –Mr. Cuddles?-

-Don't ask.-

His sibling's lips curved back into something akin to a smile. –I take it then you don't want me to ask why there's a pink bow in your hair either?-

Sam cringed. He'd forgotten about that.


Half an hour and a couple Latin words later, Sam and Dean found themselves back on two legs once more, only their memories as canines remaining. John congratulated himself on checking them all into a motel room, because, just as he'd suspected, they transformed back completely lacking in their clothes. Both blushing furiously, the siblings retreated to quickly throw some cover on.

"Can't say I'm not going to miss being a dog," Dean said. "It was kind of fun. Except for the…you know…doggy death row gig."

Sam plucked the bow out of his hair, tossing it aside in disgust. "I'm not. Think I'm going to have nightmares…"

John shook his head. "At least you weren't a poodle."

Dean grinned. "I'm not going to forget that one. That's too awesome to forget. Same goes for Sam's pet name." "

Sam scowled. "Great."

"Mr. Cuddles…"

"Shut up."

Dean chuckled, then broke off with a hiss, scratching furiously at his head.

*scritch, scritch*

Dean realized he was being stared at, and it dawned on him. "Damn it."

John grinned. "What was that you were saying about how you're going to miss being a dog?"

"You know…" Sam said, trying to stifle a laugh. "Dog shampoo works wonders for fleas."

"I am not using dog shampoo!" Dean protested.

"If you say so, fleabag," laughed John. "And when you've finished scratching away there, we still have ourselves a witch to kill."

Dean growled, near ready to clawing his scalp apart. "Yeah, yeah."

*scritch scritch*

*scritch scritch*




Yes, folks, this story is finished. I hope you enjoyed it from beginning to end. Thanks for all the lovely reviews, favs, and alerts!