"So, is she your dog, or Dean's?" Bobby asked, passing Sam a beer and settling next to him on the porch.
Sam looked up from his computer to see Dean fling a Frisbee halfway across the yard. Sassy took off after it, snatched it out of the air with her teeth, and trotted back to Dean, tail wagging proudly. Dean wrestled with her for a few moments for possession of the Frisbee, then sent it flying again.
Sam grinned. "Oh, she's mine." He held out his hand and Sassy veered off from her Frisbee chase to put her wet nose in Sam's palm.
"Hey!" Dean gestured to the Frisbee, lying halfway across the park. Sam just shrugged and continued to pet the dog. Dean, grumbling, jogged after the Frisbee.
"That fluff ball can't keep me out forever, you know." Lucifer was sitting in the middle of the table, legs crossed, basking in the sun.
Sam buried his fingers deeper in Sassy's fur. Sassy glanced at the empty space, then licked Sam's face.
"Yuck!" Lucifer wriggled in disgust, but a moment later he was gone, the table empty.
Sam smiled at Sassy. "Good girl."
"Huh." Bobby sat back, taking a long pull on his beer. "That dog is really helping, ain't she?"
"Yeah. I mean, the hallucinations are hardest to ignore when I'm alone. But Sassy's always with me, even when Dean's not."
The slobbery, dented Frisbee landed on Sam's laptop. Dean lowered himself into a seat on the opposite side of the table and stole the rest of Bobby's beer.
"Any leads?"
"Got a series of missing persons out in Washington. Sounds like our kind of thing."
"Right, ready to hunt?"
Sassy barked loudly. Bobby's eyes widened. "You don't take her with you?"
"Sure we do." Dean went to the trunk and lifted out a small doggy vest with pockets for flashlights and salt bags. "Kansas, want to man the flashlight?"
Sassy jumped up, tail wagging, and shoved her face and shoulders into the harness while Dean fastened the buckles and inserted a flashlight into straps near her shoulders.
Bobby was unable to use his usual term of affection in response to this clever set up, so he just grunted and gestured to the empty beer bottles lying around the porch. "Don't forget to clean up your stuff before you leave."
"Go on, Kansas, fetch the beer bottles!" Dean gestured to the porch.
Sassy just sat and stared at Dean. Sam laughed. "Come one, Sassy, let's go pack."
000
Another monster dead, another day with the two of them in one piece. Dean considered that a success. He hauled is duffel out of the motel room and paused at the door. Kansas was still sprawled on the bed, belly up, clearly ready to sleep, not travel.
"Kansas! Come on, it's time to go!" Dean held the car door open and glared at the German Shepherd, who simply stared back, waiting.
Sam, sprawled in the passenger seat, grinned and called, "Sassy! Time to go."
Sassy jumped into the back seat, pausing to lick Sam's hand and receive an ear rub before settling into her nest of blankets.
Dean's face fell, but he closed the door without a word. Sam grinned wider. There were few arguments he could win with Dean, and he never stopped rubbing it in his brother's face that the dog had sided with him. Dean might have found her and brought her home, but she was Sam's dog, and she only responded to "Sassy" no matter how often Dean tried to assert her proper name.
"I'm ready to get out of this town. I say we grab some burgers and eat on the road." Dean turned the key and the engine grumbled to life as if to vote 'yes' to this plan.
Sam glanced down at his jacket, which was still bloody from their recent hunt. "No. I want a real bed."
Dean took a breath and Sam could see him gearing up for an argument.
"And there's a meeting tonight, you know, one of those support groups."
Dean let the breath out again. "Oh. Alright then."
Sam allowed himself a small, satisfied smile and, resisting the urge to rub his scarred hand, reached back and patted Sassy on the head.
"Well, there's no sense in hitting the motel until we're ready to crash. I'll wait at the bar." This was Dean's usual strategy; wait for the PTSD support group to end, and inevitably a few veterans would follow Sam there for a drink. Dean would spend a few hours trading war stories with them.
Of course they always had to use terms like 'terrorist' instead of 'vampire' and 'werewolf,' but it was almost as good as trading stories with hunters. Sometimes, Sam wondered if Dean enjoyed the 'support group' even more than him.
"Burgers first," Dean declared. He spotted a greasy-looking sign and pulled in, ordering a double cheeseburger, and a salad for Sam.
Sam put a bowl of food on the floorboards for Sassy. Sassy didn't even glance at it. She sat, completely still, eyes fixed on Dean, just where he could see her through the rear-view mirror.
"No." Dean bit into his burger.
Sassy whined anxiously.
"Hey, why don't you ask Sam for the chicken on his salad, huh?"
Sam grinned into his romaine and croutons. "She likes red meat, Dean."
"Well, she doesn't get my burger." Dean stared at the pleading eyes in the rearview mirror, and started the car again. He ordered two more burgers, without buns, and put the meat patties on Sassy's bowl, grumbling, "I don't know why I'm doing this, she's your dog."