Written for: dirtydancer14
Prompt: Dean and Bobby. I don’t care what they do I just want some Dean ‘n’ Bobby y’all ;).
Archive: No problem
Pairings: none, characters involved Dean and Bobby
Disclaimer: Kripke owns, not me
Summary: Sometimes even a monster deserves saving
Notes: AU, this is a timestamp for the j2_spn big bang fic I'm working on.
Warning: implications of past child abuse
Bobby Singer ran a tight ship, or junkyard if you want to be literal. He bought up wrecks, sold them for parts, or metal and spent as little time on it all as he possibly could. His real job on the other hand, took up most of his life. Even then, he wasn’t in the habit of handling hunts himself, the Hunter was far more familiar with being the one behind the phones, handling a pretense of law enforcement agencies that helped keep Hunters in the clear. Life hadn’t always been this way. Once upon a time, he’d been a husband, with plans to be a father, possibly even one day a grandfather.
He and Karen had bought this house, thinking of a family. With guest rooms that would one day be their children’s rooms, with a nice living room where they could sit together watching television or eat, complaining about the troubles their children would be causing them.
And then the demon happened and he’d lost his wife, the cops had blamed him at first, it had taken ages before any of them believed that he’d killed Karen in self defense. It had taken even longer to convince himself. Especially once he knew there had been a way he could have saved her. That’s why he’d started learning. Not for revenge, not really, but to make sure that never again, he would have to live with seeing someone die that could have lived if he’d just known how to save them.
It’s not that he minded helping other Hunters, but every once and a while, he either couldn’t find some other Hunter in the area to take a job, or he just felt the need to go out himself. To do something, anything, to know his life was worthwhile, that there was a reason why he’d lived, when Karen didn’t. Today had been one of those cases.
There had been some mention of animal attacks in the area. Two people had died. Rumor in town was that the guy owning the grounds had a couple of vicious dogs that attacked anyone who dared to cross into his property. Bobby had made a few calls, checked the area’s history, and it came up clean.
It’s not that it was an impossible story. Any dog could go mad if you beat it enough, or left it neglected until the poor things went insane and attacked people. for all he knew, their owner had been the crazy one who trained them to kill anyone that dared to make the mistake of trespassing. But it wasn’t like he had anything better to do, so he figured he’d check it out. If it turned out to be nothing more than a bunch of dogs, he could always call the real animal control on them.
He parked the car just out of bounds of the property and checked his guns, before he loaded his shotgun with salt and placed it under his seat, in easy reach if he needed to get back to the car and fast. It wasn’t before he felt ready that he drove up to the house. The driveway was long and curved through the woods. It took him almost ten minutes to drive up the hills and to the house.
Bobby heard a couple of dogs barking when he opened the door and got out of the car. He hadn’t even managed to close the door when they showed up. Four dogs, two Rottweilers, a German Shepherd and a Labrador Retriever. None of them were barking, but the Shepherd was growling lowly under his breath and the other three looked at him as if he were offering himself up as dinner.
Bobby slowly placed his hand on his Colt wondering if he should use it, the dogs backed off, but they kept glaring at him. The front door opened before Bobby could even get near the porch and a man stood in the shadow of the door.
The man was old, about sixty or seventy, if Bobby had to take a guess. The man almost drowned in layers of flannel and denim, and his bald head shone in the sunlight
“Is there anything I can help you with, mister.” The man spat out the words in between coughs, Bobby guessed he had to be Torrance, the owner of the place.
“Marsten, I’m with animal control. I was hoping to ask you some question in regards to animal attacks in the area.”
The man didn’t answer but left the door open and nodded at Bobby to follow him. The dogs followed them in, surrounding them.
Fifteen minutes later Bobby stood in the middle of a what could only be described as a warzone. Before the room had been meant for the family. A nice large couch, surrounded by mats where dogs could comfortably spread themselves out along side one another. Now, four naked bodies in various poses of attack, surrounded him, as their blood stained the carpets and an old man sat cowering behind his desk.
“You didn’t have to do that, they were just pets.” He said, his hand reaching for his chest. Bobby would have felt sorry for him, if the man hadn’t ordered the dogs on him, telling them to tear his guts out and feast on his bones.
‘What part of, ‘they’re skinwalkers’ didn’t you get, you idiot? Those weren’t dogs, they were monsters.” Did he even have to mention the part where they’d eaten parts of the last two victims?
But the man wasn’t listening to him, he was reaching to something under his desk instead. Bobby grabbed his own gun and shot the man in the side before he could get too far. The gun fell out of feeble hands, not even making much of a sound on the thick white carpet
“They were trained, mine, my puppies.” The man spat out along with his blood.
Bobby just harrumphed, not even sure how to answer that one. How did the guy end up with four skinwalkers in his house anyway? Sure, they hunted in packs, but still, they tended to spread out when amongst humans. It made it easier for them to infect others.
“Mine, I bought them.” The man was muttering, “bought them, my puppies, raised them with my own hands, took care of them. And you killed them.”
Bobby ignored him and looked around, there were pictures all over the room, showing the man with his family, and all with them, the skinwalkers’ dog shapes. He noticed one set of pictures in particular, a dog fighting ring, two dogs, about ready to head up against one another. More dogs along the walls. The four he’d already killed and another, a picture of the man holding a Rottweiler puppy.
Bobby got up, gave the dying man a last kick before looking through the house. Suddenly he heard a low whine, he got his gun ready, preparing himself for an attack
“Here doggy.” Bobby whispered, before quickly pushing the couch out of the way, a small blur of brown and black shot out from under the couch and straight to the door. Bobby tried to take a shot at the direction it was heading, only to realize the gun was empty. He quickly reloaded and followed the puppy into the room. “Blasted skinwalkers.” He grumbled. All the windows were closed and the puppy was desperately trying to find a way out. It looked about six, seven months old at most and it seemed pitiable. Scared, just a little pup, terrified of the big bad man with the gun.
“Human.” Bobby hissed, “now.”
The puppy trembled and started shaking, and Bobby stared with wide open eyes at the little eight year old kid curled up in front of him. Naked, except for the collar around his neck. Bobby could see that the collar had had some give, stretching just enough to go along with the slightly broader neck of the child in comparison to the dog, but Bobby could see that it was cutting into the boy’s air, making it harder for him to speak. The boy didn’t even try, he didn’t even open his mouth. He just looked at Bobby with wide open eyes.
Just a kid. Just a little boy, Bobby didn’t lower his gun.
The pup was still in its corner of the room when Bobby woke up. The silver collar and chains kept him tied to the heater, burning into him enough to keep him from changing. Bobby could see inflamed skin under the silver, but he couldn’t allow himself to care. Bobby had made the pup dress up in one of his own t-shirts and a pair of shorts he’d managed to find in Torrance’s place. It was about the only kind of children’s clothing to be found anywhere near the place. The boy barely even knew how to get the shirt over his head, not just because he was trembling, but because the piece of clothing genuinely confused him. It made him wonder how often Torrance had even allowed his ‘pets’ to wear clothing of any kind.
Bobby could feel the boy’s eyes on him, whenever the pup thought Bobby wasn’t looking, and knew those same eyes flitted away as soon as the Hunter turned his way.
Bobby wasn’t even sure how to start asking questions. He didn’t even understand, why he hadn’t just killed the pup when he had the chance. It was a skinwalker, no matter how young it was, it was a monster and sooner or later someone could end up hurt because of a misplaced sense of mercy. Yet…
The pup looked so childlike the way he huddled close to the wall, a scared child, his blond locks in need of a bath, along with the rest of him.
“What’s your name, pup?” Bobby finally decided to ask.
“Puppy.” The word came out unsure.
“I said your name.”
The kid looked at him, then away, as if he had to think about it.
“Dean.” He finally whispered, the words croaked out of unused vocal cords. He seemed almost surprised he even remembered his name. Bobby guessed that Torrance hadn’t gotten to giving his youngest dog a name yet.
He should be killing the thing, this monster’s corpse should be alongside those of the older Skinwalkers, burning embers in what was left of the ruins of Torrance’s home. Yet Bobby hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it, not even after he’d ordered the boy to return to his dog form. It had looked at him with those big green eyes and the next thing he knew he’d grabbed the pup under his arm and took it with him to the car.
It didn’t look dangerous. Which probably made it even more so.
Bobby forced himself to interrogate the monster, pretend this was about information, that he hadn’t really been too soft-hearted to kill this monster just because of its age. But the more he heard, the less he could even consider killing the thing in front of him.
The child in front of him.
Little Dean barely even remembered a life before Torrance. He remembered that men had grabbed him when he was littler. Dean hadn’t been sure how old he’d been, but he was pretty sure he’d spent at least three parties with the big tree at Torrances place. Dean had been too small to even try and fight back, even when the men threw him into a room with a big snarly dog. The dog had circled him while the boy had been too scared to move. Then the dog attacked, biting his shoulder. It had hurt, bled out. Bobby could imagine, the scar was still visible. The boy had thought the dog was going to eat him, but then it started licking him, licking up his blood, its nose petting him, forcing the little boy to lay down next to it, sleeping with him.
When Dean had woken up, the world had seemed sharper, scents were heavier, colors were weaker, but there were sounds he wouldn’t even have noticed before. And oddest of all, he’d been practically floating in his clothes. It had taken him some time to realize he’d changed into a dog.
The men had entered the room, carrying sticks and a net. Dean had tried to get away, but they grabbed him up in the net. He’d been too scared to even think of running after that and hadn’t had a clue of how to go back to human. He hadn’t even been sure of what had happened to him, so how could he have known?
The following weeks had been even more horrifying, obedience training, making him do whatever whomever ended up buying him would want him to do. Change only to human if the master wanted it, do as told, don’t speak, don’t cry, be a dog, live as a dog, you’re just a pet…
For Dean all of it had been like a nightmare. When he was finally sold, it almost came as a relief, because at least Torrance hadn’t ever hit him.
Bobby didn’t even want to imagine what the man ‘had’ done. He wished the bastard was still alive, so he could kill him all over again. But all he could do was find the bastards who’d taken a child and turned him into a monster for a few quick bucks. Sometimes he had to wonder who were the worst monsters, the things that had no choice about what they were, or the humans who took advantage of that to do the unimaginable to other human beings.
Dean understood every word Bobby said to him, but he had a hard time talking, every word that came out of his lips was a struggle. Whenever he said anything, he kept staring at Bobby, as if expecting to be punished for following orders.
The boy didn’t even complain about the silver collar, Bobby could see the red sting underneath the silver, yet Dean didn’t even try to remove it. It made him feel like even more of a monster for making the kid wear it in the first place.
“Those men, have you seen them since?” Bobby demanded.
“Sometimes. “ The boy answered. “At the fights. “
Dogfights, with Skinwalkers.
“They were there last time, when Master made Bandit fight the vampire. The vampire almost killed him, and Master was angry. None of us were allowed to eat for days. Killer and Rotgut got so hungry, they went out to hunt on the grounds. Master didn’t like that either.”
Bobby could imagine that all too well.
He knelt next to the boy and pulled the collar over his neck. The child sighed in relief as the silver left his skin. The cuffs followed next, and Dean almost fell over against the heater. Bobby picked him up and laid him down on the bed. He grabbed his medical kit and found himself caring for the boys injuries, cleansing the strains left behind by the contact with silver.
The boy cringed at every touch, but he didn't even try and fight. The implication of Dean’s total submission alone made Bobby gnash his teeth.
The boy tilted his head as Bobby stopped the car. Bobby could help notice him twitching in discomfort at the sight of all the people surrounding them.
“Oh just turn into a dog already.” He grumbled out. He wondered if he imagined the relief in Dean’s eyes as the kid turned into the small Rottweiler pup that Bobby had first met. It took him a moment before he noticed that the dog’s ear had been tagged.. He wondered how he’d missed that ring in the boy’s human state.
He hesitated between the silver chain and a piece of rope, before tying the rope around the pup’s neck. The pup stood still just long enough for Bobby to finish. It’s not that he was unused to a leash, just that Bobby probably wasn’t as harsh about it as his last master had been. Because Bobby was pretty sure that’s what he’d become in the pup’s eyes
Soon, the pup ran around Bobby’s legs, it was a wonder he didn’t get himself trapped with the make shift leash. Bobby had to order him to stop before the pup tripped him over.
They headed into the diner and Bobby ordered a burger for himself and asked if it was possible to get a bowl of water and some scraps for the dog. The girl seemed amused by Dean’s playfulness and soon brought both. Dean attacked the food as if he were starved. It wouldn’t surprise Bobby if he were.
Then the dog curled up at Bobby’s feet. Sitting here, eating, it was almost enough to make the Hunter forget what the thing at his feet was. He couldn’t help wondering what to do with the pup. He couldn’t just turn the boy over to the cops, they wouldn’t have a clue what to do with him, and Bobby couldn’t risk Dean growing into a monster. He might not be dangerous now, but what about the future, it was too dangerous. He absentmindedly petted the dog when Dean lifted his head at Bobby’s knee.
And he couldn’t kill him, or let anyone else kill him. Dean was an innocent, a victim in all of this. He hadn’t harmed anyone, and if there was a chance, any chance of preventing him from becoming a threat…
He hadn’t been able to save Karen, but maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance to save Dean.
He grabbed some of his bacon from his plate and fed it to the pup.
Dean stayed behind, under the table. The rope tied around the table’s leg, while Bobby went to the toilet. He came back to find a father with his little girl looking at Dean, the man telling his daughter not to touch the dog, it might be dangerous.
“Dean.” Bobby said. The dog had been trembling under the table and instantly jumped out at Bobby, jumping up on his hind legs and licking Bobby’s hand as soon as he saw him.
“Is he dangerous?” The man asked him. Bobby took a look at the dog, then at the little girl.
“I don’t know.” Dean whined a bit before walking up to the little girl and pushing his head under her hand. “I guess he isn’t.” Bobby whispered.
“So what am I supposed to do with you?” Bobby said later as they got back to the car. The dog turned back into a boy and put on his clothes, before climbing on to the front seat as soon as Bobby ordered him to do so. Dean didn’t answer the question, he just sat there, waiting.
Looking at him with those big green eyes that had seemed so out of sorts in the dog’s face. And that, that’s when Bobby Singer gained a son as well as a dog, after all, what else was he supposed to do with him?
Prompt: Dean and Bobby. I don’t care what they do I just want some Dean ‘n’ Bobby y’all ;).
Things you don't want: