A/N: The views and opinions expressed by Coyote in this fic do not represent the views of the author.

Well, sorta.

Kinda.

That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

I do not nor have I ever advocated bitchslapping Eric Kripke. I do have my own list of candidates for the 'slappin', but Kripke's not on it. None of the people mentioned in this story are. Rated M for rough language. Cover your ears, young'uns.

A/N #2: For those of you who have never read Dog Eat Dog, or any stories in the Coyote/Dean 'verse, here's the Reader's Digest version: Dean Winchester is the human half of the trickster god Coyote.

Warning: Contains possible spoilers for "Live Free or Twi-Hard." If you have not seen that ep, proceed at your own risk or hit the "back" button now.

Summary: Coyote incurs the wrath of the Torchwood Institute's Animal Control Division when he goes on a rampage on the set of Supernatural. Yeah, like he cares. The folks from Dead Like Me are also in this thing. Man, I gotta up those meds…


Part 1 - he's making a list, checking it twice

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Coyote's staring at me."

"He's what?"

"Staring. At me. I think he's mad at me."

"So what'd you do?"

"Nothing."

"Huh. Uh, Old Man?"

"…."

"HEY! FUZZY!"

"What?"

"What the hell's the matter with you?'

"Nothin'. "

"So why are you sitting there giving Sam the evil eye?"

''m not."

"Yeah. You are. You just came from that damn AU again, didn't you? What'd you see over there?"

"Didn't see anything."

"Yeah, you did. So what was it this time?"

" 'm not in'a sharin' and carin' mood, niño."

"Suit yourself. Stop staring at Sam like that, will ya?"

"I'll stare at him any damn time I wanna -"

"WHAT WAS THAT?"

"All right, fine! Damn family's gonna run me crazy one day…"


Five thirty in the friggin' morning the next day. Dean stumbles out of bed wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. Coyote's still asleep in the headspace they share, and that's just as well. Whatever weird mood the Old Man was in yesterday, Dean thinks it's better to let the furball sleep it off for as long as possible.

What's standing on the porch ringing Bobby's doorbell is only human, after all. Human and dumb as dirt.

This better be good.

Dean jerks the door open.

Huh. Two male humans, one skinny, one heavyset. Light gray uniforms, typical city employees, all right, pissed that they've got to get up this early to do their jobs. They're both carrying long handled, high tech capture sticks. Dean snort chuckles to himself. Yeah, right, like that would even make a difference against him or Coyote. The dude in the lead bears an uncanny resemblance to Don Knotts, and he's the one carrying a heavy brown leather muzzle and a collar and leash inscribed with containment symbols. That makes Dean grin wolfishly to himself. These folks are always so much fun to play with.

"Something I can do you out of?" Dean growls roughly. His eyes flash golden yellow for a heartbeat.

Barney Fife blinks, like he's suddenly realized this might be a bad idea, the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. He straightens up, looks Dean in the eyes. "Uh…we're…we're here for the Old Man!"

"You guys must be new, right?" Dean drawls.

"Uh…yeah. Second day on the job."

"Thought so." Dean yawns. "They always send the newbies out here."

Barney Fife hands his capture stick off to his buddy, reaches inside his jacket and then thrusts out his arm. Dean just stares at the official looking goldenrod colored document he's fisting.

"A summons?" Dean chuckles. He doesn't make a move to take it. "Dude. Do you have any idea how many of those things we've gotten in the last 3 years? "

Barney's obviously decided to grow a pair. Poor bastard. He tilts his head to one side, hardens his jaw. "Well, uh, that mutt is dangerous and we're supposed to pick him up, put him in quarantine."

Dean scowls at him, and that otherworldly golden glint fires up in his eyes. "Mutt? Mutt?"

The grin Barney gives Dean is weak indeed. "Please?"

Bored now, Dean thinks to himself. Barney and his dumb ass partner disappear, wide-eyed and panicky, in a flash of bright light, but before they do they both take on a distinctively canine appearance.

That's only fair. They're mutts now, they can spend the day in the dog pound, where ever the hell that is, and then they'll change back on their own.

Dean vaporizes the capture sticks, the collar and the muzzle. He hates those things with an unholy passion.

The summons is the only thing left behind. Dean leans down, picks it up. Same old same old. He's lost count of how many jackasses from Torchwood Animal Control have shown up over the last three years. Jack Harkness never sends any hot women, just male dorks.

Dean's just about to make the summons disappear when one of the typed entries catches his eye.

Incident site: Vancouver, Canada.

Complainant: Wonderland Sound and Vision

Dean opens up the paper, smooths it out, and stares at it.

Get out here, fuzzy, Dean growls silently. Right now.

A second after that the Old Man's standing on the porch next to Dean, blinking sleepily and yawning toothily. "What, pup?"

"You bitchslapped Eric Kripke," Dean says flatly.

Coyote grins a little. "Yep. I sure did. Well, the Kripke over there. Not the one over here," he adds cheerfully.

"And I bet you looked like me when you did it."

"Huh? Oh, no. I was four legged and furry. That was not the time to be subtle."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"According to this you also bitchslapped Robert Singer, Jared Padalecki and Sera Gamble."

"Uh huh."

"Did you bitchslap that Ackles dude?"

"Nope," Coyote says proudly.

"Why not?"

"He didn't do anything. And neither did Jim Beaver. I don't go around slapping folks all willy nilly, y'know."

Dean glares at him. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from that AU? It's not real. They're just actors."

"Well," the trickster says slowly (like he doesn't really understand but they both know that he damn well does) "you watch Dr. Sexy M.D., and that's not real either."

Dean sputters. "That's - that's not the same thing!"

"Yeah, it is."

"No, it's not."

"Why not?"Coyote does a pretty convincing job of looking wide-eyed and innocent.

"It just isn't. I mean," Flustered, Dean scrubs his right hand over his face. "Damn it, don't start with me about that!"

Coyote's enjoying the hell out of this so much he sits down on his haunches and smirks up at his boy.

"One reason why it's not the same?" Dean grumbles, "I didn't bitchslap Doctor Sexy."

"Well, maybe you should," the Old Man says serenely.

Dean growls at him, low and deep. He really wants to lean down, wrap his hands around Roamer's neck and squeeze. Doesn't matter that technically he'd be strangling himself. Instead Dean crumbles the summons in his hand and the paper turns to black ash.

"Anyway, I got two words for you, pup." Coyote pauses for full effect, and then: "Brock Kelly."

"Huh. Did you bitchslap him too?"

"Yeah. First thing." Coyote huffs a laugh. "He tried to run."

"Oh. Well. In that case…you wanna go for pancakes?"


Der Waffle Haus smells wonderful: strong black coffee, sizzling bacon, all kinds of delectable smells wafting out of the kitchen. Business is good; even at this time of morning the place is filled with folks getting breakfast on their way to work.

All kinds of folks.

Daisy turns around and eyes the four men and the coyote as they walk through the door. "Ooh. They look interesting," she says aloud to no one in particular. "Who are they?"

Mason snorts. "Huh. Winchesters." He doesn't sound happy about it, either.

George looks puzzled. Even though she's been on the job for a while, there's always new stuff that she doesn't know about.

A slow smile spreads across Roxy's face. "They die, but they don't stay dead."

John rolls his eyes as he spots Rube and his crew in their regular booth. "Damn reapers," John growls underneath his breath.

"I heard your boys got you out," Rube says mildly as John walks past. "Good for you."

John stares, long and hard at him. Rube shrugs. "Hey, I was just doing my job that day. No hard feelings."

Sam flicks a startled glance, first at Rube, then at John.

"D-Dad? He's the one? At the hospital? After the car crash?"

John just nods and keeps walking.

Sam glares over his shoulder at Rube, which only makes the reaper nod in return. "The Sam Winchester bitchface. Impressive."

Dean swaggers by. He's definitely working the leather and the stubble. He nods at Rube and Mason, sweeps his gaze over George, Daisy and Roxy.

"Ladies," Dean rumbles as he walks past.

"Well now," Roxy purrs. "The one who got away…." She's seen Dean's wanted poster. That mug shot didn't do him justice.

George grins goofily. She checks out Dean's ass. And Sam's. Nice.

Daisy swoons. As nice as the young ones are, she always was secretly partial to older men. John and Bobby look dangerous. And capable.

Mason sniffs. "I bet he stole that coat from somewhere." Mason yelps as someone stomps on his instep under the table. "OWw! What? I bet he did!"

"Oh, hush up, Mason." Roxy thinks about cuffing Dean. Oh, she'd take him into custody, all right.

The Old Man slinks by with his ears laid back, eyes downcast.

Poor little thing, George thinks to herself. She almost reaches out to give him a pat on the head, but then she thinks better of it.


The Winchesters and Bobby get their regular booth, the one with a clear view of the door. Old habits die hard, even now.

"I thought you said pancakes," Coyote grumbles irritably as Dean slides into the booth. He lifts his head, scents the air. "They have waffles."

"You can get pancakes here," Dean says mildly. He knows good and well Coyote's been to Der Waffle Haus before. He's seen the Old Man in every conceivable mood, but this is something new.

"I want pancakes," Coyote snaps irritably. He hops up onto the bench seat next to Dean. Sam sits down next to Coyote.

The Old Man flattens his ears. Coyote gets up, walks across the table, and pushes his way past Dean into the corner.

"Whoa, what are you doing?"

Coyote bares his teeth at Sam. "Don't wanna sit next to him."

"Okay," Dean snarls. "That's IT! We're talking about this, damn it! Right the hell NOW!"


George looks over just in time to see a bright golden flash around the Winchester table. Daisy jerks back, startled. So does everyone else at her table.

None of the normals in the place even notice.

Kiffany takes it all in stride. So does Bobby Singer. He's not that heartbroken that Dean 'ported everyone out but him. "Hey, Kiffany."

"Bobby." Kiffany nods in return. "Never a dull moment, huh?"

"Damn Winchesters," Bobby says calmly. "Might as well let 'em hash it out among themselves." He grins a little to himself as he picks up the menu. Now maybe he can eat breakfast in peace for once.

"Uh, a side of ham, eggs scrambled over easy, hash browns, and coffee. No cream, two sugars."

"Be right up."

Kiffany turns away, and just as she does Bobby feels that familiar tingle all over his body. The air around him glows golden.

"Damn it, Dean!"

And just like that, Bobby's gone too.

And he didn't even get his coffee to go.


Part 2 will be posted tomorrow.