Family is Where the Heart is

Chapter Four

Dean and Sarah walked inside the local animal shelter, going up to the front desk where a heavyset man in a blue T-shirt with the shelter's logo on the front left-hand side and a cartoon dog on the back. "We're looking for our dog, uh, Tiger," Dean explained. "Did you by any chance pick up a dog that looked like it was from an old Disney movie?"

"Which one? Pongo, Tramp, Dodger, Stitch," the man listed off dogs from different Disney movies.

"Actually, Stitch wasn't a dog," Sarah spoke up, correcting the man. "Stitch just posed as a dog so no one knew that he was an alien from outer space."

Dean looked from his daughter back to the man, "Anyways, I'm talking about Old Yeller. That Disney dog."

He laughed, "There wasn't a Disney dog called Old Yeller."

"Seriously? How have you never…Never mind. Did you have a, um. Uh…"

"Lab, Dad," Sarah told him.

"Right, what she said."

The man looked between the two of them. "Chocolate, black, or yellow?" he asked.

Dean looked back at him with a confused look on his face. "Excuse me?" He didn't really know a whole lot about dogs and their breeds, except maybe a few and Labradors were not one of them.

Sarah let out an annoyed sigh. "Let me handle this, Dad," she told her father and looked up at the man. "He's a yellow lab, possibly mixed with something. I'm thinking maybe a Mastiff."

"Are you sure you're seven?" Dean asked his daughter.

"Positive, why?"

Dean just shook his head and turned back to the man behind the counter. "Well?"

"As a matter of fact we did pick up a dog like that about a month ago but we already adopted him out since no one claimed him. Would you like the address?" the man told them.

"No, it's fine, if Rover already has a new family, who am I to pull them apart?"

"I thought his name was Tiger?"

"Right, Tiger," Dean corrected himself. "Rover was my first dog. Boy, do I miss that dog," he lied. "Tell me, have you been getting a lot of dogs lately. More than usual, I mean."

The man shook his head. "No, just the normal amount. I worked here for fifteen years, though and I always see that dog. You ever thought of keeping him chained up?"

Dean and Sarah exchanged looks between each other. Dean may not have been a dog expert but even he knew that was a long time to see a dog.

"Weird part is, he always manages to escape this place. Maybe chained up wouldn't hold him either," he shrugged.

Dean cleared his throat into his fist. "This may seem like a random question but in that fifteen years, have you heard of any murders that involved the victim's heart ripped out?"

The man thought about it. "Actually, usually after the dog escapes there's a murder. We never thought of any connection. Why, do you think your dog has anything to do with it?"

"Well, ever since he stole that hunk of meat off the kitchen counter, ol'Tiger hasn't been his usual self. Will you excuse us? Thank you for your time." Dean turned and speed-walked out of the animal shelter as the man yelled out, "thanks for stopping by."

Sarah hurried after her father, running to keep up with him. "Now what?" she asked.

"It's definitely Old Yeller, all right," he replied as they parted ways on either side of the Impala. "Now, we just have to shoot the sonofabitch and we can be on our way."

Both of them opened each door and got in the Impala. "Wait, we're just gonna kill a family's pet?"

"It's not a pet, Sarah it's a human being posing as a dog. Did I not say don't wimp out on me?"

"But Dad, this family loves the dog."

Dean turned in his seat to fully face his daughter. He knew there would be hard moments like this to explain the hard truths of the hunting world. Sarah was still just a kid no matter what and the things he and now her as well, had to do would be hard for her to hear but was necessary. "Listen Sarah, if you have read about Skinwalkers, then you know that they are natural-born monsters and would kill anything in its path. If we don't gank this sonofabitch, it may kill the rest of the family if it hasn't already. Do you understand?"

Sarah stared down at the floor in front of her. "I know, I just didn't think it would be this hard, you know. A kid who's two isn't gonna understand that his dog is actually a human and was the one that killed his dad. All he sees is that it's his dog and I don't want him to be sad."

Dean was resting his arms on the steering wheel and the back of the front seat. He looked away. "It's hard when a kid learns the harsh truth of the world, trust me I know. I learned when I was four years old when my mom died."

"I know," she said without thinking.

Dean snapped his head back to look at her. "What?"

Sarah suddenly looked at him, as well. "I mean, I know how you feel."

He eased his shoulders, calming down. "Yeah, it wasn't easy losing your mom, huh?" Dean moved his right hand from the back of the seat to Sarah's collarbone, squeezing it gently. "And I can tell ya, you never really get over it either, but you have to stay strong. That kid will be sad about losing his, I'm sure best friend but after a while he will be okay. I promise."

Sarah stared up at her father's eyes with sadness in hers. Soon, tears appeared and she jumped on him, squeezing his neck. It surprised Dean but he just wrapped his arms around her after a while and rubbed her back, up and down.

"I'm really sorry, Sarah," he told her, silently.

Sarah sat back on her left foot, wiping her eyes dry. "About what?"

"About bringing you into all this. About training you to hunt and do things a kid shouldn't be doing. It ain't right, you should be going to school and playing around. You know, being a kid."

"Dad, can I tell you something I never told anyone else?" she asked him.

"Sure."

"Since I started Kindergarten, being a kid always felt awkward to me. I mean, sure I play video games and I have a huge trading card and action figure/car collection, and I like wrestling for fun and cartoons, I never liked playing with other kids. I would rather be with grown-ups. I never had a clue what they were saying, half the time but it was better than playing house with the kid next door. On Thanksgiving, I was always tossing the football with the teenagers."

Dean, who was staring at the seat between them, looked up at his daughter. "What did your mom think of this?" he asked, curious.

She shrugged, "Mom didn't know what to think. She took me to a lot of psycho-collie-gists where they asked a lot of questions about school and at home."

He smiled at that. "Psychologist," he corrected her.

"Yeah, that."

Dean changed back to being serious. "Let me ask you something. When did you start wanting to read about this stuff?"

Sarah hesitated before she answered, "Two years ago when…"

"When what?"

Sarah turned around in her seat and stared at the window handle.

"Are you not going to tell me?" he asked.

She shook her head not looking at her father.

"I'm not here to judge you, and you won't be in trouble if that's what you're afraid of."

"You wouldn't believe me," she told him. "Mom didn't. Gram and Papa didn't."

Dean turned his voice up and tougher. "Why don't you try me? I'm not them, Sarah. Last time I checked, my name was Dean Winchester, not Emily…" He paused, trying to remember Emily's last name."

Sarah looked back at him, "Its Holden, Dad."

"Right, Holden."

"How did Mom know your last name but you don't know hers?" she questioned her father.

"It was seven years ago and I had other things on my mind since then." Dean realized they had gotten off subject and changed it back. "Quit trying to change the subject and tell me when you started reading about this stuff."

"I can't, okay," Sarah blurted out. "I want to but I can't. It's not something that people usually have and I don't want you to think I was a freak." Tears were filling her eyes again and ran down both sides of her face. She looked out the window.

Dean shrugged, "If it makes you feel any better, your uncle, grandfather, and I, we're probably freaks ourselves with what we do."

Sarah sniffled, "It doesn't."

Dean looked away for a moment before he asked, "If I back off and not nag you about it, would you eventually come to me and tell me when you're ready? I want to help, Sarah, I really do. I can't if you don't let me in, though."

"Maybe," she admitted.

Dean pulled her closer to him with his arm wrapped around her and kissed the side of her head, right above her left ear. "Even though it's only been a couple days, I love you, kid." He let go and faced forward, starting the engine. Dean backed out of the parking space and drove out of the parking lot, returning to the Millers' ranch.

When he pulled up to the ranch and parked, he and Sarah saw Andrea Miller leaning against the metal fence, rubbing a brown and white colt's neck. They stepped out of the Impala, shutting their doors. When Dean and Sarah walked closer to Andrea, they saw she was crying.

"Andrea?" Dean spoke up.

Andrea looked back at them and quickly wiped her face dry. "What are you doing back here?" she asked of them.

"We came back to follow up, what's wrong?"

"Right after you left, my little boy and Yeller disappeared. I went to check on him and he wasn't in his bed. I looked all over the house and property and that's when I saw Yeller was gone, too." Andrea lost it, completely, crying hysterically. "I don't know who could have done it. All doors and windows were locked and there was no sign of a break-in."

Dean took the woman into his arms and comforted her. "It's gonna be all right, okay? We'll find your son," he promised her.

"My husband dead and now this?" she sniffed in his arms. "Why is this happening?"

Sarah made to open her mouth to answer when Dean shook his head at her. When they were driving again, he explained to her how the family business was a secret and that no one should ever find out what they did.

Before they left again, Dean and Sarah took a look around the house for any clue of anything that could help them. All they found was a pet door the size of a dog and small child could get through but if Dean tried, he would probably get stuck. So, Dean headed back to the motel to think things over.