A/N: I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment only, and not for profit. Chapter title taken from the song by Nazareth.

Chapter 21- Hair of the Dog

Rufus Turner and Bobby Singer returned to Singer Salvage after they made it back to the traffic jam on the highway. The place was a parking lot, and all they could do was sit there and answer questions.

"Yes sir, I saw those wolves," Rufus told the cops. "Hell of a thing, isn't it?

Bobby didn't say much. He spoke when he was spoken to, and that was it.

The sun was low on the horizon hours later when they pulled into the yard. The rumble of the Impala's engine grated on Bobby's nerves. It reminded him of the boys too much. He could smell the faint spicy scent of that aftershave Dean always wore. He couldn't wait to turn off the engine and get out of the car, but he didn't want to leave it either.

Singer Salvage was empty, except for Bobby's dog. Rumsfeld greeted his human in the yard.

The night stretched over the land, long purplish deep shadows that covered everything like a blanket. Rufus and Bobby watched and waited. Bobby turned the lights on out in the yard. It was the hunter version of a candle in the window, a light to guide wayward souls home.

No one came.

What happened on the highway even hit the national news. The New York Post (When Killer Wolves Attack! the headlines screamed) and all three major network evening news shows. The proper authorities were on the look-out for two oversized wolves rumored to have escaped from an animal breeder. The animal breeder was presumed to be the dead guy with half a face lying in the woods.

That was bullshit, of course. The official party line: Nothing to see here ladies and gentlemen. Nothing at all. Move on, and don't worry, we're on top of this. That's our story and we're sticking to it.

The woods were searched. Helicopters flew overhead, and regular hunters with high-powered rifles and bloodhounds joined the police search. Nothing.

After a day or so there was no more news, nothing about two large wild wolves found in the woods, dead or alive. Bobby pulled the tarp off that large brown sedan in the yard and he and Rufus suited up. They made the rounds of all the hospitals within a fifty mile radius. Detectives M. Romney and Michael Jordan asked emergency room personnel about recently admitted gunshot cases, particularly young white males.

There were none.

A day later Rufus jingled his keys as he sauntered for the door. "Much as I'd like to hang around and watch you grow girly parts, Singer, I'm outta here."

Bobby stood in the doorway and watched Rufus pull out of the yard in a swirl of dust. Rumsfeld followed him out into the yard. Five minutes later Bobby had a crowbar in his hand as he busily beat the rusted hood and windshield of a rusted out pick-up truck. His dog sat patiently, watching him.

He needed the scrap for parts. Yeah, that was what he told himself.

Two minutes later Bobby decided that kind of thing was too strenuous for a man his age. He needed a drink, something stronger than beer, so he went into the house and reacquainted himself with his old friend Jack.

And Josè.

Three weeks later

"Hey, Bobby. How you doin'?"

"Just peachy, Ellen."

"Hey, don't take that tone with me, you old fool. The boys will turn up, I know they will. You asked me to keep eyes and ears out for anything about wolves right?"

"Right."

"Couple of hunters were at the Roadhouse this morning. Said they were up in Blackstone National Park a week ago."

"Hunting wolves?"

"That's what they thought at first. Something killed a couple of campers up there. At first they thought it was a wendigo. They thought wrong. Turns out it was an Ilimu demon. Thing hitched a ride inside this grizzly bear. Smokey chased them through the forest, and treed them. They said the demon was hacking away at the tree with its claws, and along comes these two wolves. The wolves attacked the bear long enough for the hunters to stake it with blessed wood stakes. They did the exorcism right there. The wolves ran off."

"Wolves, huh?"

"Uh huh. Said they were the biggest wolves either one had ever seen. One was blond, the other was dark brown…oh my God. That was-"

"Yeah, it was."

The stories came in pretty regularly after that, sometimes once a week, or every other week. There were articles in the National Inquisitor, fluff pieces on the regular news, stories from other hunters, even a notoriously blurry vid on You Tube: A freakishly tall young man and a large blond wolf roamed the land killing evil. It was widely regarded as a new urban legend. Sometimes there were two oversized wolves, one dark brown, one blond. They hunted bad things and saved people.

Days into weeks, weeks rolled into months, and during that time Bobby never heard about two brothers who hunted together, never heard mention of a human hunter with dark blond hair and wide green eyes.

Rufus showed up one morning in early September. Bobby opened the door, then quirked an eyebrow at him. "Idjit, didn't I tell you to wait for me? That was a two man job." He eyed the sling on Rufus' right arm. "Just a broken arm? Huh. You got off light."

"I hate witches, okay?" Rufus stomped inside. "They don't play fair, with all those damn spells and curses."

"Next time, I say wait, you wait."

"Get off my case, Singer. You got any beer?"

"You know I do."

It was peaceful out in the yard, a good day to be alive. Rumsfeld sat at Bobby's feet. Usually he'd stretch out on the ground, sprawled out half asleep, but today he sniffed the air and seemed to be waiting for something.

Rufus and Bobby didn't notice.

The dog cocked his head at the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway.

"You expecting somebody, Singer?" Rufus pulled another bottle out of the six pack. It was trick with that busted right arm of his, but he managed.

Bobby shrugged. "Might be a customer wanting to pull auto parts." He put his bottle down and stood up. "Won't take a moment."

"Hey, Bobby?" someone called out. "Hello?"

It was a male voice. A familiar one, one they hadn't heard in months. Bobby and Rufus froze.

Sam Winchester turned the corner of the house and walked into the yard. He was two-legged, whole, and smiling. His left eye was normal. Hell, he looked pretty damn good.

Rufus dropped his bottle of beer. He couldn't think of anything to say.

Bobby couldn't either. He grabbed the boy in a bear hug and didn't let go for a full minute.

Then: "Sam? Where's your brother?"

Sam smiled, just as Rumsfeld rose to his feet and barked.

A huge blond wolf stood quietly at the edge of the yard.

"What?" Rufus grunted. "Two legs isn't good enough for him now?"

The remark made Bobby release Sam and cuff Rufus on the back of his head.

Sam chuckled. He reached into the bucket and retrieved a beer, then sat down in one of the lawn chairs.

"What?" Rufus grumbled as he raised his hand to rub the sting of the slap away. "Yeah, I said it."

"Dean's being an ass about this. He can change back if he wants to, just like I can," Sam smirked. Dean's ears flattened slightly. He grumbled at his brother.

Rufus glared at Dean and Dean glared right back at him.

Rufus blinked first.

The corners of Dean's mouth turned up in a smirk. He'd won the stare-down, He was pretty pleased with himself.

Rumsfeld barked at Bobby again. Boss, there's a wolf in the yard. He cocked his head to one side and stared at the newcomer, and then he smiled, a slight doggy smile. His stubby tail wagged, slowly at first.

Huh. He looks like a critter but he smells like that Dean boy.

The Rottie padded over to investigate.

Dean stood up straighter. He was suddenly a picture perfect alpha male, with his head head high, his chest thrust out, tail curled over his back. He looked very impressive, even majestic, but Rumsfeld was not impressed or intimidated. He never stopped smiling. He walked right over and sniffed at Dean's nose, and his tail wagged even faster.

Then he tried to sniff Dean's butt.

That was too much. Dean huffed at him. He showed the dog his eyeteeth, backed up and then jumped up on the hood of Bobby's old truck. He laid down on the roof with a thump. That was far enough away from his new admirer. Rumsfeld sat down and stared at him, and he never stopped smiling.

Sam slouched forward in the lawn chair. He knew what was coming. He rolled his beer bottle between his massive palms.

"So. You couldn't say anything to me?" Bobby grumbled. "Getting in touch with your inner wolf. That was your plan? Idjit."

"So why doesn't he change back?" Rufus muttered gruffly.

"I think…I think Dean feels that he doesn't deserve to be here. Doesn't deserve to be human. That's why he stays four-legged all the time."

Dean huffed, and then rolled his eyes.

Rufus took another swallow of beer. "I agree with the furball, Doctor Phil. That's the dumbest thing I ever heard of."

Bobby said quietly. "You can heal yourself now?"

Sam nodded. "That first night we holed up in a cave." He stared hard at Dean, and the wolf stared right back. "I thought…I thought he was going to die on me. I really did. So I told him not to. Begged him to stay with me. Didn't think he'd listen, but he did."

"You guys didn't go to a vet?"

Rufus' comment made Dean roll his eyes again.

"No. We spent two days in that cave. When they were ready, our bodies just pushed the rounds out. Took another day to heal completely, and then we hit the road."

Dean stood up. He shook himself from head to tail and then jumped down from the truck. He stalked off, head slightly lowered. A few steps away he glanced back over one massive furry blond shoulder. His eyes narrowed and he gave Sam a dirty look. Then he shook his head in disgust and walked off.

Bobby, Rufus and even Rumsfeld looked at Sam. Where's he going?

Sam shrugged. "He doesn't like this part. Doesn't want to hear it. Dean tried to make it to a crossroads. He tried to ditch me, but I knew what he was doing. So I followed him."

"How'd you know?"

"I…I just did. Sometimes I can hear inside his head. It's not words, exactly. More like pictures. Flashes. Dean didn't realize it at first. If he had, he would've been sneakier about it. He hates that, too, 'cause sometimes he can't block me out, either. I think it's the ties of blood between us. When he headed out that morning, I followed him. He told me to back off and I told him that he couldn't get away, that I'd track him down. I told him that if he made his deal, I'd go make mine, to change him back, and I also told him that I knew those demons would go for that, just for the chance to screw over our family."

Rufus whistled. "Damn, Winchester. That was harsh."

Bobby said quietly. "You weren't bluffing. And he knew it."

Sam nodded. "So now he stays four legged all the time. It's not what I wanted, but it's a step. Baby steps, that's what Dad told us one time." Sam nodded in the direction his brother took, then he took a long swig of beer. "At least he's not trying for the crossroads anymore."

Two hours later Bobby Singer handed Sam Winchester the keys to the Impala. The car he'd driven in was some junker he'd paid cash for on a used car lot. The new credit cards were good.

Dean was still nowhere in sight.

Bobby got it. He did, but the idea that they were leaving still didn't sit well with him. He couldn't coddle them, and he knew that, too.

They had work to do.

When Sam turned the engine and the girl roared into life again, Bobby ignored the way his eyes suddenly felt all wet and gritty. It was the damn pollen in the air. Yeah. That was it.

"You got girly parts," Rufus nodded solemnly.

Sam stopped the car before he drove out of the yard. The brake lights flashed red, and the Impala sat there, rumbling quietly. Sam leaned over and opened the passenger door. Dean trotted out into the open, smirking. His tail wagged madly as he ran around the Impala, sniffing the black car from the headlights to the trunk and back again. Dean snuffled noisily at all four tires.

He had his girl back, even though he couldn't drive her. Dean trotted around the car until Sam called out, "Dude, we're burning daylight. Sometime this year would be nice."

Dean ran around to the passenger side, jumped into the front seat and then scrambled over the top of the bench seat into the back.

Bobby turned away. He heard the door creak shut. The Impala rumbled off into the distance, and he didn't turn around.

The epilogue to this story is next.