Disclaimer: I bet if I tried hard enough I could make this disclaimer longer than this story... no?

A/N: Hey y'all! I'm busy tonight, but wanted to post something anyways, so I dug through my computer and found an old drabble that I'd done. It's really kindda short, though may make you smile and give you something to read for about a minute. Enjoy!

Title: The Winchester's... Plus One?
Genre: Really kindda humor.
Summary: This was a 300 word drabble that had to have the line 'You are not bringing that filthy thing home'... so I created it into a WeeChester fic where all Sam wants is a pet.

The Winchester's... Plus One?

"It's housetrained!"

"It just peed on the floor Sam!"

"It can do tricks!"

"It's a turtle!"

"Yeah, and it can make itself disappear!"

"You're going to disappear if you even think of keeping that thing in the house," John turned fully towards his six year old son who was holding onto a scared looking turtle.

"I'll take care of it," Sam gave his best puppy dog look.

"No," John firmly stated, "Now go take it out back. When Dean comes home from his friends house, you two are taking it to the swamp."

"So… it's my pet until then?" Sam grinned.

"Now Sam," John tried his hardest to keep the laughter from his voice.

Sighing deeply Sam walked through the house to the backdoor. Plopping himself on the grass, he placed the turtle on the ground.

"C'mon Green," Sam poked the shell, "You can come out now. Dad's done yell'n." Cautiously the turtle stuck its head out and Sam continued, "It's not that he doesn't like you, it's just that he likes clean floors better. You shouldn't'a peed right when I said you were housetrained-- it would'a looked better," Sam paused, "Maybe if I ask real nice he'll change his mind."

Carefully Sam got to his feet, and keeping his eye on the turtle, walked to the door, opened it and called in, "Hey Dad…!"

"You are not brining that filthy thing home, and that's final!" John called out.

Sam sighed and walked back over to the turtle. Fifteen minutes later the back door opened up and Dean walked over.

"Hey Sam," the ten year old crouched down, "I heard Dad won't let you have a pet."

"Yeah," Sam frowned.

"That's ok. We already got one."

"Who?" Sam frowned.

Dean grinned widely, "You Sammy."

The End.