ratherastory (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ratherastory) wrote2010-01-22 08:23 am
ratherastory) wrote2010-01-22 08:23 am
Entry tags:
Take Me Home —Part 10
Title: Take Me Home
Summary: The Trickster decides to have some fun with Sam. Wackiness ensues, with a healthy helping of whump, because it's me and I can't leave the boys intact.
Spoilers: All aired episodes up to 5.10
Word Count: 1,503 for this chapter
Disclaimer: Luckily for them, I own nothing. Otherwise they'd be in for a world of hurt.
Warning: Utter crack. Language that is definitely not workplace-appropriate.
Neurotic Authorial Disclaimer: No beta, written in such a hurry I'm amazed my fingers managed to connect with the keyboard.
Neurotic Authorial Disclaimer #2:I take NO responsibility for this, because it's cracktastic and weird and I can't believe it came out of of my brain. If you are scarred for life after reading it, it's NOT my fault!
Neurotic Authorial Disclaimer #3: It's basically "Lassie Come-Home," Winchester-style. I dunno. STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!
Master Post
Part 9
Change of POV time, folks! I hope you're all still enjoying this little fic. I decided it was time for us to see what was happening with Sam, so the next few chapters will be focusing on him. For those of you who are all about the Dean!Whump, fear not! We will be getting back to him in due course.
*****
At first the dog doesn't really know or care all that much about what's happening. There's a nice guy next to the big black car, and he's offering pats and has bacon-flavoured treats in his pockets. He smells both bad and nice: bacon and that stuff humans put on because they think it smells nice, and faintly of ozone. He's not exactly human, but the dog doesn't care. He's nice, the pats are nice, and the treats are nice. He wags his tail, is happy to accept scritches behind the ears, sits when he's told to sit, holds out a paw to shake when he's told to 'shake hands.' It's all easy stuff, and he gets more pats out of it, and so he doesn't see a reason to not do it.
Then another man comes out of the big building, and the first guy is forgotten. This one is definitely human, and his scent is familiar and wonderful and says home, and so he wags his tail and waits for them to finish whatever it is they're talking about. Dean, he remembers, all of a sudden. The smell is Dean, and that means home and nice things and love. Then Dean turns to leave, so of course he follows, because Dean is his pack, and where his pack goes, he goes. He's a little confused when Dean tells him he can't come, because what else is he supposed to do? And then Dean says 'Sam,' and he remembers that that's his name, and he's thrilled because he has a name and he has his pack, and there's nothing else in the world he wants.
Except that Dean keeps trying to leave him behind, as though the pack isn't together, is broken, as though he doesn't even know who Sam is, and Sam gets a little frantic, trying to remind him that that's not how it works. Packs don't split up, they don't leave each other behind, they don't tell each other to 'go away' or 'git' or anything like that. Wrong wrong wrong. He jumps into the car, shoves himself into the motel room, refuses to let himself get left behind. He's catching bits and pieces of what Dean is saying now, is remembering words, snatches of phrases.
“Dammit, Sam, where are you?”
I'm right here. Dean doesn't seem to understand, though, and so he jumps on him, pins him to the bed, licks his face, ignores the flailing and sputtering. It's me, I'm right here, I never left. It doesn't seem to be that hard a concept to grasp, but it takes a moment before Dean really seems to recognize him.
“Sam?”
After that he doesn't much care what happens. Dean knows who he is, they're staying together, and so everything is just fine. A little later he hears the name 'Bobby,' and gets another warm feeling, because 'Bobby' is part of the pack too. He watches as Dean talks to Bobby, tries to wrap his mind around how he's doing it without Bobby's being there, and part of him remembers telephones, and so that's all right. Dean is talking about him, something about angels and Gabriel, and about 'happy dog,' and Sam wags his tail because those are good words, and they're coming from Dean, and that's all that matters.
That night he curls up beside Dean on the bed, feeling safe and warm, because this is where he belongs.
Driving in the car is the best thing ever. He gets to sit in the front seat and put his head out the window, and the wind ruffles his fur and stings his eyes, and everything goes by really really fast. The car smells of oil and leather and home, and there's a scratchy blanket to lie on. Dean is awesome and gives him bacon, and then they go into a place that smells of all sorts of dogs and cats and there's a nice lady there who smells of another dog, but there's water and pats and the other dog isn't there, so it's okay. The nice lady gives him pats and treats and a really fun thing that squeaks when he bites it. He's not as thrilled when Dean puts a collar on him —Dean says something about it being red, and he doesn't really know what 'red' means— but if Dean wants him to wear it, then he supposes it's not so bad. Dean tells him it has his name on it, and that's pretty cool.
As time wears on a few more things come back to him, in a vague sense. He starts recognizing the writing on signs, numbers and names, but they only register vaguely, like a half-forgotten dream. He's starting to understand people more when they talk, too, although most of them don't have anything interesting to say. Mostly he just likes to listen to Dean, to the sound of his voice, and to listen carefully for the words he wants to hear, like 'ball' and 'walk' and 'good dog.' Dean takes him running, and then they play a really awesome game of chase-around-the-park with a ball, and then that game turns into Dean-throws-the-ball-and-Sam-fetches-it-back, and that's a really awesome game too. If it weren't for the game with the ball, he'd want to explore all the fantastic smells in the park: grass and people and children and candy wrappers and dogs and squirrels (what he wouldn't give to chase one of those little suckers up the nearest tree), but Dean is holding the ball high up in the air and all he wants is for Dean to throw the ball, c'mon, throwit-throwit-throwit!
Then there's a terrible creature that reeks of sulfur and has smoke coiling around inside it standing next to Dean in the park. Demon. He remembers the word and it's dark-smoke-sulfur-blood-hatred spilling all over the ground, and the taste of blood fills his mouth and he wants nothing more than to throw himself at the thing and tear out its throat, keep it away from Dean. He gathers himself, hackles rising, because this thing is threatening his pack, and that will. not. stand. He sees Dean move away, and that's good, but there's nowhere to run, and this is fight-or-flight and there's no choice but to leap at her, and the blood sings in his veins as he takes her down like a lame deer, and her blood is coppery in his mouth, tinged with hellfire, and death is in the air and comes pouring out of her mouth in a thick cloud.
When the demon is gone he stops, backs away, because the human beneath him smells only of ordinary blood and fear, so much fear, and he whines a bit, quietly in his throat, tries to lick the blood off his coat while Dean deals with the rest of it. He knows that he's played his role, now it's up to the pack leader to do his job. He follows at Dean's heels, doesn't even need to be told: this is what he's supposed to do. Follow Dean, be with Dean, fight with Dean. There's no question in his mind, and there doesn't seem to be any in Dean's mind either, not that it occurs to Sam that there might be.
Then it's back in the car, and then Dean leaves him alone for ever and ever and he thinks he might die of loneliness, and then Dean is back and it's fantastic and super exciting, because he has a girl with him and Sam figures they might be going out for a walk. Or, even better, they might be going out to play fetch-the-ball again, all three of them. Except that Dean locks Sam in the bathroom, and that's no fun at all because the bathroom is small and cramped and kind of cold and it smells mildewy. Sam doesn't like mildew, it makes his nose feel weird. Dean is playing in the other room with that girl and he's not paying any attention to Sam and so Sam barks and howls until Dean brings him back out to play. The girl is gone, and that's sort of too bad because she smelled okay, but Dean is here so things are okay. He cuddles up next to Dean on the bed, enjoying his scent, the comforting familiarity, the weight of his hand on Sam's head as they both fall asleep.
They're back in the car after that, and it's kind of fun to howl alongside of Dean for a while, and lie with his head in Dean's lap. He's a little sad when Dean leaves him alone again, but he's figured out by now that Dean will always come back, and so it's not so bad. He chews on his tennis ball, wags his tail when Dean gets back, isn't too fussed when they get back in the car a few hours later. Dean knows what he's doing, and Sam trusts him with that.
*****
Additional A/N: Don't worry, we'll be getting back to the action in no time. I just needed to catch Sam up a bit. :)
Part 11
Summary: The Trickster decides to have some fun with Sam. Wackiness ensues, with a healthy helping of whump, because it's me and I can't leave the boys intact.
Spoilers: All aired episodes up to 5.10
Word Count: 1,503 for this chapter
Disclaimer: Luckily for them, I own nothing. Otherwise they'd be in for a world of hurt.
Warning: Utter crack. Language that is definitely not workplace-appropriate.
Neurotic Authorial Disclaimer: No beta, written in such a hurry I'm amazed my fingers managed to connect with the keyboard.
Neurotic Authorial Disclaimer #2:I take NO responsibility for this, because it's cracktastic and weird and I can't believe it came out of of my brain. If you are scarred for life after reading it, it's NOT my fault!
Neurotic Authorial Disclaimer #3: It's basically "Lassie Come-Home," Winchester-style. I dunno. STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!
Master Post
Part 9
Change of POV time, folks! I hope you're all still enjoying this little fic. I decided it was time for us to see what was happening with Sam, so the next few chapters will be focusing on him. For those of you who are all about the Dean!Whump, fear not! We will be getting back to him in due course.
At first the dog doesn't really know or care all that much about what's happening. There's a nice guy next to the big black car, and he's offering pats and has bacon-flavoured treats in his pockets. He smells both bad and nice: bacon and that stuff humans put on because they think it smells nice, and faintly of ozone. He's not exactly human, but the dog doesn't care. He's nice, the pats are nice, and the treats are nice. He wags his tail, is happy to accept scritches behind the ears, sits when he's told to sit, holds out a paw to shake when he's told to 'shake hands.' It's all easy stuff, and he gets more pats out of it, and so he doesn't see a reason to not do it.
Then another man comes out of the big building, and the first guy is forgotten. This one is definitely human, and his scent is familiar and wonderful and says home, and so he wags his tail and waits for them to finish whatever it is they're talking about. Dean, he remembers, all of a sudden. The smell is Dean, and that means home and nice things and love. Then Dean turns to leave, so of course he follows, because Dean is his pack, and where his pack goes, he goes. He's a little confused when Dean tells him he can't come, because what else is he supposed to do? And then Dean says 'Sam,' and he remembers that that's his name, and he's thrilled because he has a name and he has his pack, and there's nothing else in the world he wants.
Except that Dean keeps trying to leave him behind, as though the pack isn't together, is broken, as though he doesn't even know who Sam is, and Sam gets a little frantic, trying to remind him that that's not how it works. Packs don't split up, they don't leave each other behind, they don't tell each other to 'go away' or 'git' or anything like that. Wrong wrong wrong. He jumps into the car, shoves himself into the motel room, refuses to let himself get left behind. He's catching bits and pieces of what Dean is saying now, is remembering words, snatches of phrases.
“Dammit, Sam, where are you?”
I'm right here. Dean doesn't seem to understand, though, and so he jumps on him, pins him to the bed, licks his face, ignores the flailing and sputtering. It's me, I'm right here, I never left. It doesn't seem to be that hard a concept to grasp, but it takes a moment before Dean really seems to recognize him.
“Sam?”
After that he doesn't much care what happens. Dean knows who he is, they're staying together, and so everything is just fine. A little later he hears the name 'Bobby,' and gets another warm feeling, because 'Bobby' is part of the pack too. He watches as Dean talks to Bobby, tries to wrap his mind around how he's doing it without Bobby's being there, and part of him remembers telephones, and so that's all right. Dean is talking about him, something about angels and Gabriel, and about 'happy dog,' and Sam wags his tail because those are good words, and they're coming from Dean, and that's all that matters.
That night he curls up beside Dean on the bed, feeling safe and warm, because this is where he belongs.
Driving in the car is the best thing ever. He gets to sit in the front seat and put his head out the window, and the wind ruffles his fur and stings his eyes, and everything goes by really really fast. The car smells of oil and leather and home, and there's a scratchy blanket to lie on. Dean is awesome and gives him bacon, and then they go into a place that smells of all sorts of dogs and cats and there's a nice lady there who smells of another dog, but there's water and pats and the other dog isn't there, so it's okay. The nice lady gives him pats and treats and a really fun thing that squeaks when he bites it. He's not as thrilled when Dean puts a collar on him —Dean says something about it being red, and he doesn't really know what 'red' means— but if Dean wants him to wear it, then he supposes it's not so bad. Dean tells him it has his name on it, and that's pretty cool.
As time wears on a few more things come back to him, in a vague sense. He starts recognizing the writing on signs, numbers and names, but they only register vaguely, like a half-forgotten dream. He's starting to understand people more when they talk, too, although most of them don't have anything interesting to say. Mostly he just likes to listen to Dean, to the sound of his voice, and to listen carefully for the words he wants to hear, like 'ball' and 'walk' and 'good dog.' Dean takes him running, and then they play a really awesome game of chase-around-the-park with a ball, and then that game turns into Dean-throws-the-ball-and-Sam-fetches-it-back, and that's a really awesome game too. If it weren't for the game with the ball, he'd want to explore all the fantastic smells in the park: grass and people and children and candy wrappers and dogs and squirrels (what he wouldn't give to chase one of those little suckers up the nearest tree), but Dean is holding the ball high up in the air and all he wants is for Dean to throw the ball, c'mon, throwit-throwit-throwit!
Then there's a terrible creature that reeks of sulfur and has smoke coiling around inside it standing next to Dean in the park. Demon. He remembers the word and it's dark-smoke-sulfur-blood-hatred spilling all over the ground, and the taste of blood fills his mouth and he wants nothing more than to throw himself at the thing and tear out its throat, keep it away from Dean. He gathers himself, hackles rising, because this thing is threatening his pack, and that will. not. stand. He sees Dean move away, and that's good, but there's nowhere to run, and this is fight-or-flight and there's no choice but to leap at her, and the blood sings in his veins as he takes her down like a lame deer, and her blood is coppery in his mouth, tinged with hellfire, and death is in the air and comes pouring out of her mouth in a thick cloud.
When the demon is gone he stops, backs away, because the human beneath him smells only of ordinary blood and fear, so much fear, and he whines a bit, quietly in his throat, tries to lick the blood off his coat while Dean deals with the rest of it. He knows that he's played his role, now it's up to the pack leader to do his job. He follows at Dean's heels, doesn't even need to be told: this is what he's supposed to do. Follow Dean, be with Dean, fight with Dean. There's no question in his mind, and there doesn't seem to be any in Dean's mind either, not that it occurs to Sam that there might be.
Then it's back in the car, and then Dean leaves him alone for ever and ever and he thinks he might die of loneliness, and then Dean is back and it's fantastic and super exciting, because he has a girl with him and Sam figures they might be going out for a walk. Or, even better, they might be going out to play fetch-the-ball again, all three of them. Except that Dean locks Sam in the bathroom, and that's no fun at all because the bathroom is small and cramped and kind of cold and it smells mildewy. Sam doesn't like mildew, it makes his nose feel weird. Dean is playing in the other room with that girl and he's not paying any attention to Sam and so Sam barks and howls until Dean brings him back out to play. The girl is gone, and that's sort of too bad because she smelled okay, but Dean is here so things are okay. He cuddles up next to Dean on the bed, enjoying his scent, the comforting familiarity, the weight of his hand on Sam's head as they both fall asleep.
They're back in the car after that, and it's kind of fun to howl alongside of Dean for a while, and lie with his head in Dean's lap. He's a little sad when Dean leaves him alone again, but he's figured out by now that Dean will always come back, and so it's not so bad. He chews on his tennis ball, wags his tail when Dean gets back, isn't too fussed when they get back in the car a few hours later. Dean knows what he's doing, and Sam trusts him with that.
Additional A/N: Don't worry, we'll be getting back to the action in no time. I just needed to catch Sam up a bit. :)
Part 11
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As for leaving Dean out cold at the end of the last instalment - well, it's a good thing you're updating so regularly, or there would be a lot more uppercase anguish in this comment :)
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No anguish, please! We'll be getting back to Dean, I promise, although the next few chapters will be focused on Sam.
I was very much torn about how much Sam ought to be aware of what was happening, especially at first. You know how sometimes dogs seem to understand everything we're saying but really they're getting everything through a doggy filter? I decided that was what was happening here. :)
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I love dogs. They're so great. :)
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Oh! Makes my heart clench in a good way!
OMG, I love Sammy!Dog POV so much it hurts! This is exactly how I imagine my dogs think!
I think all stories should be told from doggy POV!
In my head I imagine they hear blah blah blah good dog, blah blah blah going to doggy day care blah blah blah treats blah blah blah..... Just like SAM!
side dog note - my malamute threw up FIVE Times yesterday due to something she ate [she has garbage gut and eats everything].
It's a good thing I luvs her so much.....
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I always figured that my dog was hearing blah blah blah good dog blah blah blah walk blah blah blah treat blah blah blah come here, etc. Because, really, all the rest is unimportant. ;)
Poor malamute! Poor you —that's a lot of puke to clean up. I have four cats (no dog, alas, as I live in an apartment), and on a regular basis I have reason to lament this: "Why does my life consist of stealth puke? WHY?" (Because, of course, they sneak over at night and puke right next to the bed to make sure I'll step in it when I get up)
I love my cats I love my cats I love my cats... repeat mantra until you believe it and are no longer tempted to turn them into earmuffs. ;)
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Loving this story. :D Sam as a dog is way more adorable then it should be, lol.
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Doggy!Sam really is adorable, isn't he? I think it helps that I'm a dog lover, so it probably bleeds through into how I write them.
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Under ordinary circumstances, though, Dean is the perfect beta male.
Interesting that you would mention Gabriel's "lesson" here, because I have something in mind for that. :)
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Oh you rock so much it hurts LOL
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I'm glad you liked it! This was one of my favourite chapters to write. :)
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I love Doggy!Sam, too, and believe me I was very tempted to keep him all happy and carefree. He deserves a break from all the angst.
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My dog used to be SO SAD whenever we left her alone. "Oh GOD you ABANDONED ME and I was alone for EVEEEEEER!"
Dogs just don't perceive time the way we do, is all. :)
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(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 08:34 pm (UTC)(link)