Everyone give the lovely Phoebe a hand. *claps* She has graciously volunteered to sacrifice her sanity so all of you don't want to gouge your eyes out.
Well, grammatically speaking. You may still want to gouge your eyes out because of this story, but that's for a totally different reason, one I take full blame for. :D
WARNINGS:
Still got that flashlight, right? Good. You're gonna need it I think.
Remember that puppy that followed Dean out of Hell? She's back. And this time, she's our POV guide.
He stared at the small quivering mass in front of him, head cocked. She mirrored the pose, wondering what he was waiting for.
It was the only thing left alive within at least fifty miles.
He'd killed everything else—well, she and he had, between them, killed everything else.
She'd killed most of the furry critters. She had a thing about them—didn't quite know what it was, they just bugged the hell out of her—and while he didn't care so much about killing them he wasn't against it either. So he let her play.
He was always doing that, her master. Letting her play and have fun, and sometimes, even if it wasn't exactly what he wanted to do right then, he'd play with her.
She loved him all the more for it.
He played with her a time or two today, grabbing up one of the squeaky little fuckers and tossing it for her to chase and catch and then shake to pieces while it shrieked in terror.
Who knew the little furry things could sound just as scared as humans? Awesome.
The dogs playing with those nasty rubber things? Man, they had no idea what they were missing! Live squeaky toys were so much better.
He'd used birds for target practice today, just, she knew, because it seemed kind of fun at the time. He put up an invisible wall in the sky so they couldn't fly off and then shot them down.
One.
By.
One.
She wished she could help with that, and she had run around for a while and tried to catch them, but there were a lot of birds and so she stopped after a while and just watched him, laughing as he twirled his gun and spun around real fast like he was trying to take them by surprise and, damn, almost dancing while he played.
That made her want to dance too, so she did. She got up and she danced with him, the birds and the blood raining from the sky as they laughed and whooped and barked and howled together.
Of course he'd had the most fun with the humans. He always did.
Probably because when animals get scared, it's a mindless terror. And of course they both loved that—who didn't after all?—but while furry critters can scream, and scream good and loud, that was about it.
That and wiggle like crazy. Which was also fun, but still not near as much fun as the humans are.
Because the humans? They had words. Even better, they thought they could use those words to make him stop.
He snorted.
She agreed.
That was all kinds of funny. Her master didn't stop for anyone or anything except himself.
Well, and her, but why the hell would she ask him to stop? That was no fun.
Except he stopped for this one.
This little one was not like the others.
This one had been next and last on his 'to do' list for some reason . . . It was just a young human, though she was bad with numbers and had no idea how young. They were all young to her anyway.
Even her master was barely a pup's age to her, but that was all right because he made her feel like a pup, too.
He'd killed the bitch mama. Hadn't meant to do it so fast, she knew, saw the regret on his face, but it'd just sort of leapt at him, screaming something about a betrayal and how he wasn't going to fucking touch its baby—a point on which they'd have to agree to disagree, she thought with another snort—and it had startled him and he reacted and then it was falling down dead. Dead as a doornail.
Whatever a doornail was, she thought idly, still watching the little one. Didn't sound like something that could die, but apparently it could.
Suddenly he frowned, her master. Her ears cocked, wondering if he'd heard something, but then they went back down when she didn't detect anything. She knew that look, she realized.
He was thinking, remembering probably. She wondered what he was remembering as he stared at the little one.
She thought about it for a half a second, and then tapped into his head. Normally she didn't, his head was his own private den and she didn't want to intrude. She had manners and respected his privacy like he respected hers, but the look on his face now was one she didn't recognize and she'd never done very well with things she didn't know.
He sometimes said curiosity was going to be the death of her, but she just grinned and licked his face. She loved her master so very much and wouldn't change a thing about him, but sometimes he was very silly indeed. But pups will be pups, as her own bitch mama used to say.
She nudged and wriggled her way into the memory and saw it was of the dead bitch mama. Of it and him, naked as sin and doing all sort of things that definitely fit that description. It ran through his head and he let it play for a bit, curious.
She was curious too, mostly because this was a memory of Before.
Before she'd found him. Before, when she was lonely and he was too, because they were apart and neither one of them knew what they were missing.
She always liked learning more about Before, even though most of it made her sad. She didn't always understand what was going on, but it made him sad and that was enough to make her sad.
"Lisa?" He said it aloud, catching her attention. Then he looked right at her. "That name sound familiar to you, girl?"
She looked back at him, tongue hanging out as she basked in the sun, rolling onto her back with her paws in the air.
Nope. Didn't mean a thing to her. But most names didn't.
He smiled at her and she wagged that stubby tail of hers, all wiggles and joy because he was talking to her.
She loved it when he talked to her. Didn't care about what. Just his voice directed to her ears and she got all wiggly and happy like a pup—even more than when he was playing with her.
He snapped his fingers and like a shot she was upright on all fours, wondering what was gonna happen next. She didn't know what was coming, but that snap had her muscles quivering in anticipation, her eyes locked on him, her ears perked up and ready.
"Ben!" he said and then looked at the little one again.
Her ears dropped down and her muscles relaxed when he looked away, and she looked at the little one too.
It started to shake in earnest and, boy, that little thing wasn't gonna need any help from her to shake to pieces.
"You're Ben," her master said and it started making noises, little sniffly ones at first, but then words, some of them broken into bits here and there, tumbling out of his mouth, like the birds from before falling from the sky.
They'd been broken, too.
"P-please," it said. "P-please d-don't hurt m-me. P-please. P-please d-don't hurt m-me." It just kept repeating that over and over.
She yawned. This was boring. Try something else, little one. Shake things up a little why don't you?
He crouched down, so he was right on eye level with it and smiled.
Sometimes the humans would smile back when he looked at them like that because they thought he was going to give in and stop.
She knew better.
That smile was one of her favorites and she got all quivery again when she saw it now.
This little one seemed to know better too.
It didn't smile back.
The tears started falling and it pressed back against the tree it was sitting next to and then a new smell drifted on the breeze and she wrinkled her nose up at it.
Ugh. Gross. She liked lots of the smells that came with her master's work and play, but not this one. It was sharp and bitter and far too strong and she hated it.
Besides, what respectable creature pissed on itself? Now on other creatures, that was a whole 'nother story.
She got up and circled around to her master's other side, right up next to him because she liked it there and the wind wasn't blowing toward her anymore and the smell wasn't so strong.
The little one watched her and she stared right back, curling her lips and enjoying the way his skin went all pasty white at that. Damn she loved her work.
Then her master lifted a hand up and rested it on her head and ruffled her ears and she let him because even better than him talking to her was him touching her.
Oh hellfire and catgut, she loved that. Pats and scratchies and belly rubs and ears rufflings and those whole body strokes when he started on her head and went all the way back to her tail . . . She shivered just thinking about it.
Man, she could just lie down and never move again if he never stopped petting her. The moon and the stars and the fucking universe itself could pass away and she wouldn't care as long as he was there with her, touching her and talking to her and looking at her.
Just her and him. That was all that she needed.
She sighed and let her tongue hang out, the very thought of that enough to make her happy.
He smiled and then looked at the little one. "Ben," he said, "This is my girl. She likes to play. Would you like to play with her?"
It looked at her and she thought about growling or something, but her ears were still being rubbed and who the hell cared if the little fucker made more fearful noises right now?
Whatever. She was busy.
Then it looked back at her master and shook its head. "No," it said softly. It swallowed. "No, D- No, s-sir, I don't think I w-would."
Her master made a clicky noise with his tongue and he jerked up his chin. Her ears perked in anticipation of a command, but then dropped back down immediately because he was still rubbing them and, yeah, that was nice.
"Too bad, Ben. I think you two could have had a lot of fun." He gave a lop-sided grin. "Well, I don't know how much fun you would have had, to tell the truth. But she'd have had a ball."
He stood and gave her one last pat on the head and she sighed again, but this time it was in regret because he was closing the distance between him and the little one.
Oh well. Maybe when it was dead they could go find somewhere to sit and she could sneak her head under his hand and he'd pet her again.
He always did, when she did that. Gave her this sly little grin and told her she was a sneaky little bitch, but he said it like he loved that about her and then he'd start rubbing her ears or scratching her head and she'd just melt into a pile of fur and bones and lie there until he stopped.
She loved it best when he talked to her then, told her about Before and Someday.
She liked the stories of Someday almost more than the ones of Before, because Someday stories were always happy. Most of the Before stories were just too sad.
He paused halfway there and half turned to look behind himself, and she thought maybe she should do the same, but she was still in her happy place from his ruffling her ears and so she just lay there and watched. He'd tell her if it was important.
Then he turned back and crouched down in front of it, knelt actually, so he was straddling the little one's legs, and put his hands on its shoulders.
It whimpered and closed its eyes and turned its head away, but he just made a soft, shushing noise and slid his hands up to its neck, until he was holding its head, turning it back to face him.
"Ben, open your eyes."
It was soft, easy and slow like nothing in the world was going on that was worth worrying about, but when he spoke like that you listened. Didn't matter who you were, you listened and you obeyed.
The little one was not different this time.
It looked up and met his eyes and then her master smiled.
"Ben, you deserve the very best I can give you."
It swallowed, but didn't say anything, even though it looked like it wanted to.
"Unfortunately, I've spent too long here. I just don't have time to give you my best. I am really sorry about that, Ben."
It started to cry again, big tears rolling down those soft cheeks, chubby with youth, and now it found a voice and spoke.
"Please," it said, so soft it was almost a whisper. "Please don't. Please."
"Shh-shh-shh," he soothed, thumbs rubbing along its cheeks, wiping at the tears. He lifted one hand, letting go for a moment, and brought his thumb up, licking the salt from it.
"Mmm," he hummed softly, eyes drifting shut, then popped his thumb free and sighed. "Life is so not fair sometimes, dude. Never enough time for anything worthwhile," he said, looking at her with those eyes of his. Times like this, they just broke her heart.
And he sounded so sad that she felt her ears droop in sympathy as a whine escaped her throat. It was a hard truth and she hated it, but she couldn't deny it either.
Fucking life. What a bitch it could be.
He looked back down, replacing his hand along its jawline and neck, thumb on the cheek. Bending forward he placed a kiss on the top of its head, soft as a butterfly landing on a flower petal.
"I'm so sorry I can't give you what you deserve," he said and tensed his arms in preparation for the quick jerk that would end it all.
She raised her head and her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she watched.
She was getting kind of hungry. Maybe after this they could find somewhere to eat. Hopefully somewhere with pie.
She loved her some pie.
Thanks for reading. If you're still out there and not afraid to admit it, be a dish and a doll and click that little review button and let me know, will you?