Summary: New neighbours, a fight and an accident beset the pet mud-monkeys' lives. AU Sam/Dean Gabriel/Castiel unrelated slash. Sequel to 'A Walkies On The Wild Side' and 'The Sidewalk-Burger'.
A/N: Contains hopefully humorous candid language. Please don't read if easily offended. This story takes place in an earthlike Heaven where the people are angels and their pet mud-monkeys (ref. S04E07) are simple humans. Everyone looks exactly like they do on the show. No furry beasts here.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, its fandom, its characters or anything connected to them. I do not make money or profit in any way from this story.
Hey Babe (Part 3) by frostygossamer
About an hour later, Gabriel returned from his Father's presence. His eyes were big with the enormity of the plans he had just been informed about. He felt almost overwhelmed by the weight of the responsibility that had just been thrust on him by the HEAD HONCHO himself.
Sam jumped up from where he had been laying full length on the floor and fixed him with questioning eyes.
"Oh, Sam," Gabriel gasped, leaning back on the closed door. "That was one HOT meeting."
Sam looked slightly worried, just in case. Was that a good or bad thing? He couldn't guess. All he had managed to hear of the audience from out there in the anteroom had been muffled words of business Enochian, impenetrable to a mere muddie. Barely a handful of words had meant anything to him: 'urth', 'save', 'uman', 'hunt', 'go' and 'love'. 'Love' was currently Sam's favourite word.
The archangel picked up his pet's leash and wandered back to the elevator dazed. Sam trotted at his heals. Gabriel pressed the button for the first floor with a shaky finger. As he crossed the foyer to the entrance doors, he hardly heard Rachel's goodbye. Although Sam did take the time to give her a friendly smile and rub himself on the corner of her desk as he passed.
Gabriel bundled Sam into the back seat of his car then got in himself. The archangel sat dumbly behind the steering wheel for several minutes before pulling himself together and remembering his muddie.
"Sam," he said, voice full of subdued excitement. "THE MAN has gotten himself one Heaven of a PLAN! Boy, does he have a plan! And THIS archangel is gonna be a kingpin in the divine strategy. You proud of your old man, huh?"
Sam looked up at him from where he was crouching and yawned like a walrus. A plan? Well, Sam could do plans. DEAN could tell Old Master that. Oh, there he went again. Poor Dean! Dean, where was he? He was starting to feel sad again. Sam flopped down on the backseat and sighed enormously.
Gabriel wasn't discouraged by his pet's apparently unimpressed reaction to his news.
"Really?" he asked, snarkily. "Dunno why the BIG KAHUNA has so much faith in your kind, Sammy boy. Personally, I doubt that bunch have the focus to be part of his GREAT VISION."
Gabriel drove around a little to calm himself down. Then he took Sam to a greasy spoon cafe for a naughty celebration lunch, getting Sam inside by putting on shades and pretending Sam was his Seeing Eye muddie. Sam gratefully wolfed down his greasy burger and fries under the booth table. A full belly cheered him up only very slightly.
After a token pop-in to the archangel's home office, Gabriel took Sam back to Castiel, anxious to share his great news with his beloved.
~xXx~
That evening, when Gabriel took Sam back to Castiel's, the two angels spent the night together. Gabriel had to tone down his excitement because, even when Castiel was wrapped in the archangel's arms, he could sense that the angel was still feeling shaken by recent events concerning his darling mud-monkey.
"I do hope Dean's going to be alright, Gabe," Castiel sighed.
Gabriel hugged him a little tighter.
"He'll be fine," the archangel assured him. "He's one tough mudder. Take more than this to polish off young Deano."
"You think?" Castiel asked, snuggling closer. "I'm frightened he could languish and die. Simple creatures can do that, you know. Their nerves are very fragile."
Gabriel had to laugh. From his experience of mud-monkey ownership with Sam, muddies were ANYTHING but fragile creatures.
"Don't you worry, Cas," he insisted. "Soon as you get him home he'll be OK. All he needs is some TLC. Just like me," and he kissed Castiel on the nose.
Castiel kissed him back on the lips. Gabriel deepened the kiss, rolling him onto his back, then grinned down at him.
"TLC. That what this is?" Castiel asked, smiling a little.
"If you like, Honey," Gabriel agreed, with a naughty twinkle.
~xXx~
Downstairs in his basket, Sam was pining sadly for his Dean. He knew his master had said Dean was alive, that he would get better, but he was dubious.
Sam's head was full of worrying questions. Would Dean be going to return to him in one piece? Would he be the same muddie he used to be? Would he still be beautiful? Would he still have all his pretty toys? Would he still be up for flexy fun with his Sammy?
Sam felt bad that he was worrying about little Sam's needs. He suffered for Dean; he really did. But he had found something special with Castiel's perfect muddie and he couldn't bear the thought that it could be over, that his Dean might have been irreversibly traumatized by his horrid experiences.
Maybe the smaller muddie would come back home wrecked, and not wanting Sam anymore. It was all TOO cruel to contemplate. Once again, Sam cried himself to sleep, all alone. This was becoming a habit. He wasn't sleeping properly without his companion.
When his master got out of bed next morning and skipped downstairs, Sam just lay flat on his stomach and watched the incongruously happy angel over the rim of the basket. He could hear Castiel beginning breakfast, so he dragged himself out of his lonely bed, feeling lower than one of those nasty-tasting slug things from the back yard.
In the kitchen, Castiel was humming to himself as he rustled up a fortifying repast for his stay-over boyfriend and him. Gabriel had joined him and was chatting to him animatedly about his new mission from the Divine Enchilada. It was just so much yackety-yak to Sam.
Uncharacteristically ignoring his bowl, Sam slouched out to the back yard, feeling almost too sad to even enjoy a good poop. Outside, birds were singing and flowers were blooming in a way that seemed thoughtlessly bothersome to Sam, considering how badly he felt without Dean.
Heaven should have been much less carefree about the horrible state of things it had caused, he thought.
~xXx~
Lounging on the lawn wearing a hangdog face and feeling unbearably tragic inside, he became conscious of the sound of muddie trilling drifting over the fence. Wearily, he wandered across and peeked over the top. Lisa was skipping around her own back yard, keeping herself company by singing.
"Hi," Sam said dolefully.
"Oh, hi," Lisa replied, grinning. "How you doin'?"
"Not so good," he answered, sadly. "Missin' my Dean."
"You missin' Dean?" she wondered. "Why? He run away?"
Sam choked back a sob mudfully. "He got hisself RUN OVER," he answered.
"Run over?! Oh, that's BAD," she responded, eyes wide. "He... dead?"
Lisa chin-upped against the fence so she could see over, scanning Castiel's back yard for that tell-tale heap of dirt that indicated the last resting place of a faithful pet. Sam followed her gaze, gasping as he realized what she was looking for.
"Nah," Sam insisted. "Not DEAD. Vet's got him. He's gonna come home sometime."
"Aw, that sucks," Lisa sympathized. "Meantime, how 'bout you come over and 'visit' with me."
Sam appreciated it was very thoughtful of Lisa, to offer herself to cheer him up at a trying time like this. He considered it. He considered long and hard but, shockingly, he couldn't even bring himself to give someone a mannerly tumble, he felt so low.
"Gonna hafta make that a rain check," he said. "Not up to muffin' right now. The wand's feelin' kinda floppy and sad. Sorry."
Lisa smiled kindly. "Oh, poor you," she said. "That's OK. No offence taken."
His sorrow had made Sam transgress social etiquette. He had been brought up better than that. But, right then, he felt like he would rather commit social suicide than share himself with anyone other than his Dean, even if that meant never boffing anyone ever again.
"Bye, Lisa," he said and sloped back indoors to force down a little sustenance.
~xXx~
Castiel was full of joy because he was going to go collect his Dean from the vet first thing. He could hardly wait to see his darling pet again. He dressed quickly and hurried out to go get Dean in Gabriel's car, dropping the archangel off at his office along the way.
When the vet arrived to run up her window shutters, she found Castiel already waiting anxiously outside, hopping agitatedly from foot to foot. She guided the worried pet owner into her kennelling facility.
"I know Dean is gonna be as glad to see you as you are him," she chuckled.
And he sure was.
Dean was overjoyed to be 'rescued' from this weird place, where they'd hurt him, half starved him and locked him up after what, he had started to remember, was a nightmarishly surreal experience. The still slightly woozy muddie staggered to his feet in the cramped incubator where he had been sleeping, and feebly pawed at the glass window. The vet unlatched the cubicle door and Castiel shot in to grab his pet and envelope him in a loving hug.
"Thank Father," the angel gasped. "I really thought you were a goner this time, Dean. Never do ANYTHING to scare me like that again."
Dean's joy was a little pathetic; he sobbed in his master's arms. But then he spotted the vet, watching over Castiel's shoulder, and pulled himself up, visibly controlling his shaky emotions. Dean was a fearless guard-mud. He couldn't be seen behaving like some infant mud-pup, even by angels. His dignity meant a whole lot to him.
Castiel could only smile, just so glad his muddie was alive and on the mend. He promised Dean a treat for being such a real GOOD boy. So, on the way home, they stopped to pick up some yummy ice cream for the invalid and, more importantly, called in at the celestial bakery for Dean's favourite, PIE.
~xXx~
Sam was loitering nervously in the middle of the hall when Castiel unlocked the front door, his dark eyes wet and pleading, trying not to hope too much. The angel spotted him and grinned broadly.
"Look who I found at the vet's," he told the worried muddie. "See who's here," and he turned to indicate Dean, who was wobbling right behind him.
The slightly shaky muddie followed his master inside. Sam's face lit up the moment they met his friend's dopey green eyes. He looked Dean's body over carefully.
"Dude, what's wrong with your freakin' head?" he demanded suspiciously.
Dean winced. "Dunno, mudz," he replied. "Some kinda funnel. 'S freakin' uncomfortable."
Dean was wearing an Elizabethan cone, which the vet had insisted Castiel leave on for a day or two to prevent the muddie biting at his dressings. Castiel led Dean indoors, and left the two muddies alone in the living room, while he went in the kitchen to serve up the ice cream and pie.
"Now don't you jostle poor Dean around, Sam," the angel warned as he went. "Remember he's not all better yet, right? Play gently."
Sam tilted his head and gave his friend a sympathetically meant grin.
"'S embarrassin', mudz," Dean told him. "Had to walk 'cross the street with this freakin' thin' on. Feel stoopid."
Sam tried to stifle a slightly hysterical laugh, and failed.
"'S freakin' hilarious," he chuckled. "Looks like you got your head stuck in a lampshade, dude. What's it fur?"
"Dunno, Sam," Dean replied, but he had his suspicions.
They plonked their bare butts down on the hearthrug. After a few moments, Dean voiced the concern he had had since he had woken up groggy at the vet's.
"Dude, you wanna check me out downstairs?" he asked nervously.
Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You up for that yet? You not too sick?"
"Not freakin' THAT," Dean scoffed. "Need you to tell me, be honest, do I still got all my toys?"
Dean could only think of one reason the vet wouldn't want him examining his injuries. It had to do with the fate most feared by pets when taken to the vet's.
Sam checked out his friend's conspicuous nether regions very carefully.
"All present and correct, mudz," he assured him. "Damn pretty as ever."
Dean let out a relieved sigh.
"Dude, I was so scared the funnel was to stop me seein' they'd stolen my junk," he admitted. "So 'fraid."
Sam chuckled. "No need, mudz. You're completely unmeddled with downstairs. Sweet like always."
Right then Castiel called the two muddies to eat. Dean wobbled as fast as he could in the kitchen, Sam padding along behind, gently shepherding him. The angel placed two bowls of pie on the floor, crusts smashed and ice cream mushed, to make it easier for muddies to manage without making too great of a mess.
Both pets got right into the sticky goodness.
~xXx~
After licking their bowls out super-thoroughly, they returned to the living room. Castiel sat on one end of the couch to eat his pie a la mode, while Dean stretched out with his coned head laying awkwardly in his master's lap. Sam sat his butt on the floor and made puppy-eyes at the angel, until Castiel patted the couch and allowed him to jump up beside the invalid.
"Now be nice, Sam," he warned him, wagging his finger. "Dean's still a little delicate."
Sam allowed himself to melt over the couch, sprawling over Dean's long bare legs and resting his cheek on his friend's soft pink belly with a sigh. He drank in Dean's scent, delicious as always, if a little medicated.
"Yum-yum-yum!" he mumbled against Dean's stomach. "Was GOOD pie!"
Dean huffed. "Was MY pie," he commented. "Fur bein' a brave muddie."
"You WERE brave, mudz," Sam agreed. "But Sam was brave too. Had to be in charge of stuff, protectin' and such, all on my own. Though I'm freakin' good at that. Plus-"
"Plus eatin' my freakin' share of the food when I wasn't here?" Dean suggested dryly.
Trust Dean to have been worrying about what was going on with his share of the food while he was someplace else.
"PLUS," Sam repeated, "bein' all SAD cos I figured you were DEAD, mudz." He paused for effect. "Even CRIED."
Dean had to carefully turn around and glare at him through his cone, after that confession.
"You CRIED?" he asked, scandalized. "Seriously? Like some tiny mud-pup?"
Sam rubbed his face on his friend's belly.
"Yeah, I cried. And I'm not ashamed. Cried fur bein' alone, Dean. MISSED you dreadful!"
Dean suddenly felt all choked up inside. Sam had been hurting while he was gone? And all HE had worried about was himself. What sort of an Alpha was he? But, being Dean, he thought it best to maintain his cool attitude.
"'Course you missed me," he snorted. "Missed your Alpha. That's damn right-thinkin'."
Sam sighed shakily. "No, Dean. Missed my MATE," he quavered.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Not your MATE, dude," he pointed out. "NOT a mud-chick."
"Good as my mate," Sam asserted, tearfully. "Closest I'll ever git. And better."
Dean snorted. "You're my frick-muddie. 'S what you freakin' are, mudz."
Sam sighed deeply. "A frick-muddie's just some mudder you pole sometime you see 'em in the street or in the bushes at the park, for the fun 'gasms," he murmured. "That what I am?"
Dean considered a bit more. Did he even know a word for what Sam wanted to hear?
"Guess you're my bowl-mate," he remarked uncertainly. "That's way freakin' important."
For Dean, that was actually true. Dean thought a lot of his food. Sharing his foodbowl with ANYONE was a big deal for him. But Sam's shoulders heaved in another big sigh. Dean was still a little perplexed. He needed to say something to cheer Sam up. It was HIS responsibility as Alpha to keep his tribe happy, after all.
"Love ya, mudz," he yelped desperately, then pressed his lips tight together before anything else unmudly could escape. That wasn't Alpha talk, no way.
But Sam knew that Dean had problems with that one Enochian concept. He gave his friend credit for not choking on the very word. He glanced at Dean over his shoulder.
"Ya do?" he asked hopefully.
"Sure," Dean assured him, running a finger slowly up and down the big muddie's spine. "Sure do."
"Love ya too, Dean," Sam responded, a big sappy smile lighting up his face.
Dean was touched. He stroked Sam's messy hair. Maybe it wasn't so bad to let Sam call him his mate. After all, Dean was the Alpha, right? That had to make Sam the bitch in the relationship. Sam made one freakin' BIG mud-chick, but Dean could work with that.
"'S OK, Sam. 'M home now. Take care a you, huh?" he whispered.
"Mmm," Sam agreed wordlessly, snuggling into him. "Yeah, home now," and he fell into a contented doze.
Sam wrapped his long arms around his precious friend and held him gently, licking comforting slurps across his bruised skin. Dean purred softly at Sam's soothing.
Castiel could feel the vibration in his lap. He set his empty plate down on the floor and smiled at how sweet his two muddies were together. His plans to have Sam sleep separate from Dean that night, in case he accidentally hurt him, looked to be unnecessary after all.
The big muddie couldn't have been more tender.
TBC
A/N: So Sam has his Dean back home. No more worries. Or are there? More soon...