The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin and Pluto

by silver ruffian

To paraphrase Kim Manners on the Supernatural DVD, “If they were dogs, Jensen Dean would be Rin Tin Tin, and Jared Sam would be Pluto.” They're dogs in this one, people.

2. Chapter 2: Homeward Bound

A/N: This is not my fault. I was egged on by every one who gave me good reviews on the first story, and here they are: Nilah, nyxlilly, DarkMind1, Ciya, Hazgarn, Poaetpainter, Trish62, teal-lover, lime juize, irish girl19, Valtira, and last, but certainly not least, SciFiNutTX.

And……and I blame Kim Manners.

Yeah, that's it.

Blame them, not me.

Type: Pre-series Crack fic. There. I said it. Continuation of The One Time Only, Hopefully Never To Be Repeated Adventures of Rin Tin Tin and Pluto AKA The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin and Pluto.

Spoilers: Crossroad Blues

Warnings (this installment): weirdness, violence, some animal cussing, very mild animal sex, big-bosomed women, and Fancy Feast cat food

Pairings (this installment): John/OFC; Dean/OFC (whether or not Sammy gets some in this series depends on how depraved I can get.)

Timeline: pre-Pilot. Yes, this is the real reason why Sam left for Stanford. Can you blame him?

Summary: Kim Manners said it in the Supernatural DVD: "If they were dogs, Jensen (Dean) would be Rin Tin Tin, and Jared (Sam) would be Pluto."

Homeward Bound: The Further Incredible Adventures of Rin Tin Tin and Pluto

By silver ruffian

Chapter 2: On The Road Again

One

Sam!

Yeah, it was just like his idiot brother. Sam knew he'd come running back. Probably being chased by some irate farmer or rancher and his dog pack. Sam stood there on the hill, on the edge of the woods, and he had to admit that Dean was graceful as hell running flat out, his ears laid back, legs almost a blur.

Sam!

Ten minutes ago Dean was his usual smug, insufferable movie handsome self, even while trapped inside Rin Tin Tin's body. I know what I'm doing, Sam. Watch and learn, grasshopper.

Sam scoffed. Oh, he was learning, all right. Dean was being chased by a red faced convenience store clerk waving a rifle. The dude was panting and looked like he was about one step away from a coronary infarction, but adrenaline was obviously a factor. He was right on Dean's ass, and despite the fact that Dean had four legs to his two, Dean couldn't shake him.

Dean had made quite a name for himself along the interstate in the two weeks they'd been on the road. He was known as a rogue, an outlaw, the kind of dog who could slip into a convenience store or supermarket and seriously impact the store's profit margin if you gave him half the chance. The story was that he knew how to open doors with his paws, and he could somehow stuff three deli sandwiches in his mouth with no problem, take off running and be out the door before the clerk could make a move on him.

One time Dean entered one of those mini-marts, held a basket by the handles in his mouth and quietly padded over to the deli section. He picked up six deli sandwiches with his mouth, dropped them into the basket, and afterwards he snuck out with the basket while the pimply-faced counter clerk was on his cell phone bitching about how lousy his job was.

Dean didn't target anything in cans. Right now their situation sucked, no doubt about it. It was Look Ma, no hands, so he went for anything in paper or plastic that could be torn open. If there was a way to open a tin can with teeth and paws Dean really didn't want to hear about it.

Yeah, they needed food, and Sam wasn't that thrilled about the idea of eating raw rabbit or opossum, but the thing of it was Dad did nothing but encourage Dean in his recklessness. Sam was sure there was a statewide BOLO on the three of them, or out on Dean at the very least.

The last hunt had gone south quick, fast and in a hurry. That damn witch they were hunting turned Sam and Dean into dogs, and apparently she nailed John Winchester too, turned him into a cat after she nailed the boys. They'd survived the horrors of the dog pen, and now they were two states over from Bobby Singer's place.

If they were ever caught, Sam was pretty sure that Dean would probably end up adopted by some loving family with two point five kids. After all, Dean knew how he looked, and he wasn't the least bit shy about using it, either. John Winchester was currently occupying the body of a handsome black Persian cat; he too was highly adoptable. And as for Sam, well, he looked like the live action version of Pluto, Mickey Mouse's dog, and Sam was pretty sure those kind of dogs didn't get any breaks, adoption-wise.

Sam usually didn't curse, usually didn't call women (even witches) bitches, but in her case he made an exception.

Huh. Sam sat there, entranced, his thin whip like tail waving back and forth in the air.

His long floppy ears perked up a little, and he cocked his head to one side. He was able to pick up images of what happened inside the store from his brother's mind. It had been a disaster, a total disaster from start to finish. The outer doors stuck, and the sandwich case had this clear hard plastic barrier on it. The clerk kept a fully loaded rifle under the counter.

And that fat bastard could run, too.

Dean glanced backwards –for a minute he was actually running sideways --- and when he saw the guy was gaining on him Sam could actually hear Dean mutter -- Son of a bitch-- then:

Don't just stand there, dumbass! Run!

Sam turned and ran just as the clerk stopped, aimed and fired a round that kicked up the grass at Dean's heels. Dean ran a zigzag pattern and bounded up the hill. The clerk fired another round that blew bark off one of the trees as Sam flashed past it into the woods.

Five minutes later they were breathless and hunkering down behind a large tree that had fallen down during one of the recent spring storms. Sam could swear that the birds wheeling overhead in the bright blue sky were laughing their asses off at them.

Did – did we lose him? Dean panted.

You were gonna show me how it's done, oh wise and wonderful devil dog of the open road. I'm still waiting, Sam smirked.

Dean grinned. Well, sometimes the magic works, Sammy, and sometimes it doesn't.

Sam stared at him. They don't have sarcasm on your planet, do they?

You know what they say…Dean got to his feet, shook himself, and cautiously peered over the tree trunk. If at first you don't succeed---

Keep on going until you get shot to death by an irate convenience store clerk? Sam said with an innocent grin.

Dean stared at him banefully. Ha Friggin' Ha. That was so funny I forgot to laugh. It's nearly noon, dude, and we still gotta eat. Besides, I gotta get Dad his tuna.

Tuna? Sam's brow wrinkled up in a frown. Dad doesn't like tuna.

Dean turned away and trotted back towards the highway. He does now.

Two

Five blocks away John Winchester purred. He kneaded her large comfortable thigh. The fingers on that woman…it had been a long long time since John had been touched like that. She knew just which spots to hit, and by God she wasn't shy about it, either. He stretched his neck out, purring, and she ran her fingers under his chin, all the way down to his chest. He turned over on his side, stretched out on the ground, and purred so loudly he damn near vibrated.

His senses had been dulled by the plate of chicken and beef Fancy Feast gourmet cat food he'd discovered out there on the grass. He was doing a recon of the neighborhood, damn it, it wasn't supposed to go like this! He had no problem leaving his boys behind to gather food. Dean needed to burn off some of that excess energy of his, and Sam, well, he was broody. In other words, Sam was just being Sam.

Her fingers stroked his back, massaged and kneaded that spot down at the base of his tail, on his back, and John could feel his entire body loosen up.

He could have clawed her; it never occurred to him.

Her fingers were magical. His paws curled inwards with each stroke.

It was enough to make him forget, forget nearly everything.

He didn't struggle as she picked him up gently and carried him into the house. Her bosom was large, soft and inviting. It had been a while since he'd nestled up against something so warm and nice. She smiled at him and she hit that spot under his chin again, long smooth strokes.

John felt his brain cells turn to jelly.

Three

Twenty minutes later Dean lay on his back in the grass. A slow lazy grin spread across his muzzle, and he thoroughly enjoyed the way the gentle breeze ruffled his fur. His belly was full, thanks to a quick in and out grab in the sandwich section and run like hell out the door at the market down the highway.

As fucked up as that other gig went, this one went smooth. He was in and out before anyone knew what was up, and that place had automatic sliding doors instead of the kind you had to push. Sweet. One of the staff was pushing carts in from the parking lot and he yelled at Dean as he streaked past, his mouth full of deli goodness.

Hey, buddy, that's what insurance is for, acts of God and dog (damned clever, Dean thought) so get over it, shopping cart boy. He'd grabbed two large deli sandwiches for him and Sam, and a tuna sandwich for Dad.

Sam was off somewhere doing God only knew what, either taking a leak or, more likely, talking to butterflies or counseling field mice or some other damn girly thing. Dad was doing recon on the neighborhood. He'd told Dean to gather food, and then to stay put, so Dean stayed put.

His family was with him. At the moment, life was good.

Well, if you could ignore that whole getting turned into dogs and cat thing…

Right now Dean was dreaming of that pretty little collie shepherd bitch he met right outside Calumet City. Ah, she was something, brought a whole new meaning to the phrase "doggy style" that Dean could appreciate.

Hey, he's a dog in this one, remember?

He had just gotten to the part where he'd followed her behind some bushes when he felt something staring at him. He opened his eyes, and about six inches away from his nose sat a chipmunk.

A small, weird looking chipmunk.

Huh. It stared at him, twitching, and Dean stared back, his head slightly cocked to one side. Since he was way bigger than the chipmunk he figured the damn thing would get the hint and leave, but no. The next thing Dean knew it threw itself on his muzzle and he could feel its paws pulling at his lips as it tried to pull his mouth open.

"Eat me!" It squeaked. "Eat me!"

What the fuck--- Dean threw himself backwards, legs scrambling all over the place in an awkward tangle. He tried to spit it out. He started gagging and grubby little chipmunk fingers clutched at his teeth, gums and tongue (no telling where those digits had been), and that was enough to make Dean start gagging all over again.

A demon possessed chipmunk, that was it. Had to be. Out of all these wide open spaces he had to pick this one to take a nap, and this damn thing found him.

Sam, where the fuck was Sam? Dad---

Just then Sam padded up. He took one look at Dean and shook his head. Those long black floppy ears of his flapped around from side to side.

Dude.

Dean swung around wildly at the sound of his brother's voice inside his head. Dean's jaws bulged with ten ounces of crazed, writhing chipmunk.

Mmphh!?!?!?!

Dean, Sam sighed, with that "I only put up with you because I'm related to you" tone. Quit playing around. If you're going to eat him, then eat him. Stop torturing the poor thing.

Mmmph -- mmphh ---

The chipmunk was momentarily distracted by the sight of Sam in all his Pluto-like glory, and it loosened its viselike grip on Dean's mouth. That was all Dean needed – he spat the damn thing out and jumped back, sputtering. Christo! Christo!

Dean, what the hell are you doing? Sam took a step back

It's possessed! Damn thing's possessed! It wanted me to eat him and it jumped in my mouth and---

Sam smirked, a very unlikely expression on that comical looking face.

Dean's right paw itched. He wanted to smack that grin right off Sam's mug. Dude, I'm not lying---

At that point the chipmunk got up, all slimy and wet, and made a mad dash towards Dean. Again.

Dean squeaked before he could stop himself. He jumped up in the air and actually jumped behind Sam. Well, see, he wasn't really hiding behind Sam. Sam just happened to be in front of Dean.

Sam put out one oversized paw and pressed the little critter down on the ground. At last those Bigfoot paws were good for something. Sam grimaced as Dean's saliva got his fur wet. He turned to look at his brother.

Dean stared at the damn thing, wide-eyed. He looked pretty freaked out, no doubt about it, but he still looked…pretty. Photogenic bastard, Sam thought.

Dean, he's a chipmunk. You're two hundred times his size anyway. You afraid of him?

Dean bristled. No!

Sam frowned. Then why are you hiding behind me?

I'm not hiding behind you. Dean moved over to the side, lowered his head so he could get a good look, now that the damn thing was pinned down. You got in front of me, that's all…

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes.

The chipmunk looked up at them and grinned.

Call me Al, it squeaked nervously.

Dean growled at him.

Four

Okay now, let me get this straight, Sam said slowly. You made a deal with a demon to become some high-pressure Wall Street executive.

Uh huh, Al said.

Al sat a few feet away from them. It was that whole "Suicide by Dean" bit that raised Dean's hackles. Dean sat right next to Sam and he stared at Al like he wanted to play hackey sack with his furry little striped ass across the wide Mississippi River and back again.

Your ten years is up. You got turned into a wild chipmunk and now the demon's coming after you, Sam concluded.

Uh huh, Al said.

Dean's eyes narrowed. He's lying, Sam.

And what makes you say that?

I - I don't know. Doesn't sound right. If the demon could turn him into a damn chipmunk why didn't it just drag his sorry ass down to hell in the first place?

Because it's called torment, Dean, Sam said smugly, his head slightly tilted to one side. It's what they do.

Dean shook that ruggedly handsome head of his. I'm not buying it. A chipmunk? Come on!

You got any better ideas?

Yeah. We ditch the squirrel and hook up with Dad.

He's not a squirrel, he's a chipmunk. And anyway, Dean, we can't leave him.

Dean laughed. Yeah, we can.

Aren't we supposed to be helping people?

Dean cocked his head to one side, made a flapping gesture towards Al with his right front paw.

He's not people.

In case you haven't noticed, bro, we aren't either.

We're higher up on the food chain than he is, dude.

Well, before you go, Al said cautiously, Could you do me a favor?

Dean looked wary. His brow furrowed. Like…what?

Al jumped up and tried to leap into Dean's mouth. Dean got to his feet so quickly that Al missed the mark and went splat, spreadeagled against Dean's deep heroic chest instead. He dug his little chipmunk fingers into Dean's fur and Dean growled, deep in his throat.

Get off me, you freak! God, what the hell is the matter with you! Dean shook himself roughly from head to toe. Al went flying off in the opposite direction.

I…I just wanted to have a good life, for once, Al stammered as he lay flat on his back. He sat up. Money, power, fame, women…

Sam shook his head. I mean…were you really happy like that?

Dean snorted. Sammy, didn't you say you wanted to be a lawyer when you grew up?

Sam ignored his idiot older brother. Dean walked around slowly in a circle and tried to catch the tip of his tail with his mouth.

You…you didn't piss off a witch, Sam said slowly.

Al frowned. No. I don't think so.

Well, you had to piss off somebody.

Sam, Dean said warningly. Sam looked up and Dean's hackles were standing straight up. His tail was bushed out and from the tone of his voice Sam knew it was going to be bad.

Then he looked past Dean, and Sam knew right then and there that bad didn't even begin to cover this.

Five

John held the catnip mouse between his front paws and buried his nose in it.

He tried not to drool, but he couldn't help himself.

He inhaled. Deeply.

He didn't do drugs. Never had, even while serving with the Marines in 'Nam. He taught his boys to stay away from drugs, except for painkillers when they were injured. He drank occasionally, but he didn't smoke.

But this…it was heaven.

Pure heaven, he thought as he rabbit kicked the damn mouse again.

Six

"Come on, Al," and the voice was silky smooth and gave Dean the shivers just hearing it. "Time to stop running."

Dean stared. The woman standing in the clearing had on a skintight black dress and a pair of stiletto black heels that reminded Dean of his tenth grade home room teacher, Mrs. Bassett. Sometimes Dean would stay after school and they would --- well, never mind. That's another story for another time, thank you very much.

The woman was hot. Damn hot. Chick looked just like Angelina Jolie. Well, Angelina Jolie with blood red eyes, but that wouldn't count in the dark, or if he was kissing her with his eyes closed.

Hell, the blood red eyes didn't count, period.

I mean, come on! Angelina Jolie!

Damn, the one time he runs into a really hot demon chick and he's not even in the right body.

Life sucked big time right then.

Dean didn't care much for the critter that was crouched down in front of her. It was three times as big as he was, black as night and ugly as sin, with yellow teeth and huge red eyes. That sucker could hump the hell out of your leg. Seriously.

Dean backed up, put himself between Al, Sammy, the demon chick, and DemonFido. He kept glancing back, at Al, then the demoness, and it suddenly clicked. There was a crossroads not too far from the highway, and it made sense to him, no matter what Sam said.

Wait a minute, Dean thought slowly. You made a deal. With him. He jerked his head in Al's direction. Al squeaked and hid behind Sam. You made him a human for ten years. He's a chipmunk. What the hell kind of crossroads demon are you?

"Well, well." She slinked on over and stood in front of Dean with one hand on her hip. "Brains and beauty all in one gorgeous package." She nodded towards Sam, and she lowered her voice, but Sam still heard her. "Who's your ugly friend?"

Sam bristled.

"He's my geek brother."

"Your brother?" She looked back and forth, from Dean to Sam. She frowned. "How the hell did that—" Dean leaned back and quirked one furry eyebrow at her.

Long story.

"Oh. Sorry."

And you were going to tell us about this when? Sam thought at Al reproachfully. He was feeling ornery right about now. Al tried to burrow up against Sam's side and nearly fell over when Sam moved away, pointedly.

"Well, I can see we've got some things to discuss, handsome," she purred at Dean. She turned and looked at the hellhound. "Azaereth, take five."

The hellhound shrugged its shoulders and gave Dean an evil look as it slunk by him. Dean squared his shoulders, lifted his tail high and gave it the death glare right back. He looked damned handsome while he did it, too.

The hellhound came over and sat down next to Sam. It looked him up and down, from head to toe, and then leaned over and said out loud in a surprisingly cultured female voice: "Have you given any thought to making Satan your personal lord and savior?"

Oh, shit, Sam groaned.

Seven

You didn't think they were gonna laugh at you when you showed up with him? It was amazing the range of expression Dean got out of that furry face of his. Right now he was trying not to stare at her in disbelief, because it suddenly occurred to him that the hot demon chick just wasn't very bright.

Duh.

Hey, look, you were young, just starting out. Why don't you just chalk this up to experience and let the poor schmuck go?

She gnawed nervously at the tip of one bright red fingernail. So what if I do that? You're not gonna tell anyone?

Hey, my lips are sealed, Dean said, earnestly. He stuck his chest out, and his ears went up another fraction. He looked the part of the movie perfect All-American hero dog. You can trust me, Miss. I'm here to help.

Besides, who the hell would even believe this crap?

"Well, let's seal the deal then ---" She put one hand beneath his jaw and raised his head. She leaned down to kiss him.

Dean jumped back quickly. Hey! Hey! Bestiality --- that's a line we don't cross, all right?

At least, not in this fic.

She looked awfully hot when she pouted. She put her hands on her hips. You're a dog. You're supposed to be woman's best friend, too. You're kind of a prude, darling.

Dean reared back. He looked extremely offended. I am not!

She morphed into Lassie. How's this? She blinked coquettishly at him. Damn, her eyelashes were almost as long as his were.

"Ye-aahh." Dean knew he sounded like a moron, but right at that very moment he didn't care.

Dean Jr. didn't give a damn either.

Sam rolled his eyes. Why don't you three get a room?

The hellhound sulked over by one of the trees. She was pissed because Sam wouldn't share his deli sandwich with her. Among other things. Dean gets the hot chick and I'm stuck with the hellhound who does recruitment for the Greater Church of Satan on the side? Sam thought darkly. What am I, chopped liver?

Al pressed himself so deeply into the side of Sam's thigh Sam was pretty sure there was something indecent about the whole thing.

Dean and "Lassie" sealed the deal behind the fallen tree trunk. Well, an hour later they'd sealed the deal a couple of times by then, but neither one of them was complaining.

You sure took your time, she murmured as she licked Dean's face, and he grinned.

I always like to read whatever I'm signing.

I bet you do. Okay. Here's the deal: Al will get to live out the natural lifespan of a wild chipmunk, whatever the hell that is, the way he was intended to.

Okay. How do I know I can trust you?

She shrugged. Like you said, I'd be a laughing stock if I showed up with a chipmunk's soul. Well, handsome, you can sure handle yourself in that body, but I bet you'd like to be human again. Why don't we make a deal. I could give you ten good years up top.

No thanks. Dean backed up.

Okay. Call me.

Uh huh. He didn't intend to.

She sniggered. She knew he would, in about two years or so.

Al didn't detach himself from Sam's side until both the hot demon chick and the hellhound shimmered away into the bright afternoon air. Figures, Sam grumbled to himself. Dean gets laid, and I get groped by some damned chipmunk. I think I'll need some therapy after this.

Al stood between the two of them and jumped up and down excitedly. Oh, damn, I don't know how I can thank you!

Dean lowered his head and stared at him. He lifted one side of his lip over those bright white sharp teeth of his. Just. Go.

Sam and Dean sat side by side and watched Al scurry across the road. He wasn't really paying attention to the traffic around him, and Dean didn't think that was such a good idea. Apparently Sam didn't either, because he stood up and had just opened his mouth when Al paused, turned around to wave at them again---

--and got nailed by an eighteen wheeler.

Splat.

Dean closed his eyes and flinched.

Sam lunged forward. Dean body blocked him.

Sammy. Let it go…

But, Dean…

You look like Mickey Mouse's dog, not Superman's, dude. Dean looked over at the highway and all he could see was a grease spot on the pavement.He winced a little as a dump trunk and several cars rolled over the grease spot.

Al's gone. And I'm not gonna let you get splattered out there. I don't know what the natural lifespan of a wild chipmunk is, but with ten years as a human on top of whatever it was, Al was apparently way past his expiration date. It's the culling of the herd, Sammy. We can't save 'em all. Let it go.

They turned away and walked back into the woods, side by side. Dean put his head down and quickly picked up John's trail. He shifted into a fast, easy trot, and Sam moved right alongside him.

Pick up Dad's tuna fish sandwich and catch up with Dad. Should be easy, right? By nightfall Sam really hoped they could just find a vacant cabin or some place to hole up in. He was getting positively fucking sick of the Great Outdoors already, and they were still quite a ways out from Bobby Singer's place.

GreatOutdoors? Yeah, right.

Well, at least Al's gone to the Rainbow Bridge, Sam said quietly. He glanced back at the highway, and Dean gave him a gentle nudge forward.

Rainbow Bridge? Dean's heroic brow furrowed. What the hell is that?

Animal Heaven.

No shit? You made that up.

No, I didn't.

Yeah, you so did.

No, I didn't. Which means that when you die and go to heaven, Dean, Mrs. Patterson's pet cat Mr. Tinkles will be waiting for you.

Dean grinned wolfishly. Which is why I'm going to take my pistol with me when I go to heaven. Good-bye Mr. Tinkles. Again.

You can't do that!

Yes, I can, Dean thought simply. It's Heaven and God wants me to be happy. I have my gun, I'm happy. I can see it now, Sammy: Gunfire breaks out on the Rainbow Bridge…

TBC

Next up: John has a mid-life crisis, Sam gets even moodier, and Dean suffers a psychotic break.