It was weird, being back home after five years. Not that he really had a home, since he was raised on the road. A bark reminded him he wasn't alone either.
"I bet you're hungry, huh Bandit?"
Bandit barked again. Sam ruffled his ears, which unlike some hadn't been clipped. His stubby tail wagged eagerly, but he didn't move from Sam's side. He was well trained and obedient. Sam considered himself lucky, as unlike the other handlers, he had been given special permission to bring his canine partner stateside.
Sure, he had to fulfill his end of the bargain. But that was a small price to pay. The bond between a dog and his handler was a powerful thing, one most would have trouble understanding. Bandit was more than a simple pet to him...he was family.
Sam's admission into Stanford was more of a formality than anything. He had already passed the entrance exam, and his service record made him an ideal candidate for their numbers.
Bandit's presence presented a slight snag, but one that was easily dealt with. Besides, Sam wasn't paying for his lodging anyway, so having to pay a bit more was no skin off his back.
It was beyond strange...he had gotten so used to combat that transitioning back into a sedate civilian lifestyle was somewhat jarring. He missed the camaraderie he had back in the service, especially among the other dog handlers.
For the next six months he tried to keep his head down, and enjoy being normal for a while.
And then, reality came knocking once again. In the form of his older brother no less.
Their reunion could have gone better. For Dean that is.
Third POV...
Dean stayed very still, as the dog holding him in a death grip made it clear it wasn't going to hesitate to rip a good chunk out of him. He couldn't tell what breed the thing was, just that it had a pretty good jaw strength and had caught him completely off guard.
The light flickered on, but the dog didn't move.
Sam walked into view, took one look at the situation and did something completely unexpected.
He made two long sharp whistled and one short one. The dog relaxed his grip on Dean's flesh and backed up, but kept up it's guarding position.
Dean looked at his brother incredulous.
"Sammy. What the hell," said Dean flatly.
"Hey Dean," said Sam.
"What the hell Sammy? Where did you get the psycho dog."
"If you had come in like a normal person, he wouldn't have attacked you," deadpanned Sam. "It's your own damn fault for breaking in through the window."
Dean gave him a weak glare. Sam stared impassively back.
"Why are you here Dean?" asked Sam, mostly to break the tense stand off.
"Dad's missing."
"He left us alone all the time growing up. What's different this time?"
Dean looked at his brother. Something had changed about him, but he couldn't place what at the moment. So he put it out of mind and told him.
"Dad left a hunt unfinished. He only gave me a single phone call, nothing else."
"...I'll get my bags," said Sam.
Dean stared at the dog. Bandit stared at him back, drool coming from his jaws.
Dean was all for Sam coming with him, but the second the dog got in the backseat he about threw a complete bitchfit.
"Oh hell no, that dog is not coming with us!" said Dean. "Get a dog sitter or something!"
Sam glared at him.
"Either Bandit goes with us or you can go by yourself," said Sam.
"I am not having a mutt in Baby!"
Sam rolled his eyes.
"Bandit is a pure bred Boxer, not a mutt. And he's trained. He won't destroy your precious car," said Sam exasperated.
"The dog is not coming with us," said Dean.
"The dog comes, or I'm not going," said Sam, equally stubborn.
Dean tried a different tactic.
"How do I know he won't cut and run at the first sign of a werewolf?"
"I told you, he's trained. If he can handle guns and bombs going off around him, he can handle a damn werewolf. Besides, you said this was a simple ghost hunt," said Sam. "If nothing else he can help us dig."
Dean, realizing Sam was not budging on this matter, begrudgingly agreed to let the dog come with them. But he wasn't going to hold back on the bitching if the mutt made a mess in his car.
Sam had to bite back his laughter at the way Dean reacted to the fact Bandit had stolen his precious pie when the man wasn't looking. He had only turned away for a second when Bandit struck...with Sam's permission.
The expression on Dean's face when he realized the dog was licking his chops of the cheap, likely near expired cherry cobbler, and his pie was missing was hysterical.
"Sammy, I hope you're not too attached to the mutt because he's one dead dog."
"It's just a pie Dean," said Sam, once he got over his amusement.
"He stole my pie! I thought you said he was trained!"
"He is, which is why he waited for me to give him permission to steal it," laughed Sam.
Dean fumed.
When they reached the area where their father last was, Sam opted to take Bandit out on a run while Dean investigated the hotel room. Dean agreed, mostly because he was still peeved about his lost cobbler.
Neither of them was expecting Dean to be arrested.
Sam sighed, and walked into the sheriff's station.
"I'm here to pick up my brother," said Sam.
The desk sergeant took one look at Sam, then at the dog sitting patiently outside, then asked "Which regiment?"
Sam withheld a grin.
"107th. My staff sergeant was a major Marvel nerd, and he insisted we call our unit the Howling Commandos as a joke," said Sam. Mostly because their leader was a trained handler and Bandit was their unofficial mascot and held the rank of Captain.
The desk sergeant snorted, and told him where to wait. He also proved to be quite the dog lover, because he had Bandit's tail wagging like crazy over the treats he shared with Sam's permission.
Dean was less than amused that while he got the "suspect treatment", the cops were treating Sam like one of their own.
"How is it that they treat me like a criminal, and yet the cops were treating you like a fellow cop?" grumbled Dean.
"Because the one at the desk identified me as a soldier on sight," said Sam.
Dean stopped short.
"What."
Sam snorted at the look on Dean's face. Like it hadn't occurred to him that his brother would have joined the military.
"I joined the military," repeated Sam.
"I don't believe it. When were you going to tell me about this?" said Dean, hurt.
Sam stared him down.
"I thought it was obvious. Hell, Bandit is my partner," said Sam.
"I thought handlers couldn't keep their dogs once they returned stateside?" said Dean.
"Normally no, but I got special permission from the higher ups...because they found out rather early on I was a hunter."
Dean stared at Sam. Sam was just glad he didn't really have to hide this from Dean. A short time was amusing, but long term was impossible.
"There was an incident with a Wendigo with my original platoon. The only ones to survive were the ones that actually listened to me, so when the higher ups investigated they found out pretty fast I was a hunter. So one of them made me a deal, especially since I was a handler. They'd throw me into officer training school and give me a platoon of people who had survived the supernatural, and in exchange I would go on missions for the military involving things that the regular soldier wasn't equipped to handle."
Dean listened patiently as his brother explained.
"In exchange for keeping Bandit when I came stateside, they wanted me to get in contact with more hunters interested in helping them out. Apparently there used to be a group of people who handled this sort of thing, but someone attacked them and nearly wiped it out. They want to bring that back," said Sam.
"Really?" said Dean. This was news to him.
"They called themselves the Men of Letters. They still exist in England, but that particular branch is full of assholes," scowled Sam. "They were particularly snide whenever I had to deal with them, which was why the generals were eager to have American hunters who would be willing to fill in the role again."
"Is this a serious offer?" asked Dean.
"Dean, they let me keep my dog as incentive to bring actual hunters in to help them. They've been losing men because they don't know how to handle an actual hunt, and those that do are out of their depth when it comes to the research aspect. You know as well as I do that the average ammunition used by soldiers would do exactly jack against the things we've faced," said Sam.
Dean looked like he was seriously considering it. Too bad they had a particularly nasty ghost to hunt.
When Sam returned back to Stanford, he knew he had a serious decision to make. His instincts were telling him that this issue with his father wasn't going to end anytime soon, and he refused to let all the hard work he put in be to waste.
Which was why he went to one of the professors who could help him make his case to the dean.
Taking time off to locate his father was a pretty good reason for him to stop attending classes. However Sam didn't want to give them up completely, so he made arrangements with the school to take them online instead. So long as he read the books and kept up his grades, he could get his degree online. And, if things went well, he could also get the law degree he had originally planned on as well.
Considering Sam could still be called into active duty if necessary, it was a concession they were willing to make so long as he returned long enough to take certain exams on campus. Dean was more than willing to agree to this, since it freed his brother (and the dog Dean was very slowly getting used to) to help him track down their father.
Which was why their first stop was to visit their Uncle Bobby, who in Sam's opinion had acted more as a father than John ever did to them.
"So let me get this straight...when you left John and Dean, you joined up with the army?" said Bobby.
"I wasn't sure if dad would let me go, and a full scholarship wasn't going to cover all my living expenses. I ran into an army recruiter and when I found out dog handler was an option I agreed to a five year contract," said Sam. "They found out by accident that I was a hunter, and the higher ups decided to make use of it since they wanted someone with experience dealing with the supernatural elements."
Bobby looked incredulous, but didn't comment.
"How the hell does the government handle what we do anyway?"
"If a report handles supernatural elements, it gets redacted. My entire unit was considered an unofficial black ops for 'special circumstances'. Only select officials were allowed to read our reports," said Sam promptly. "And they're willing to hire 'special consultants' for hunters willing to help them keep servicemen alive in the field when against 'special threats' that they can't just kill with conventional methods."
"How much?"
"Case by case basis, but they're offering a pretty hefty contract," said Sam promptly. "You wouldn't believe the headaches shifters have given them until I showed up. Hell, one of my men was bitten by a werewolf. And yet he still can't beat me at poker."
"Hold up...one of your guys is a werewolf and you left him alone?"
"They lock him up in a special bunker with guards armed with heavy duty tranq guns on the bad nights," said Sam. "So long as he can hold a gun and follows orders, the higher ups aren't going to ask. As far as his records say, he has a 'special condition' that requires a few days off a month."
On the plus side, Sam had two more experienced hunters willing to help him keep his brothers in arms alive. Even better, one of them was his brother Dean, who outside of a few jokes about him joining the army like he had, was completely supportive of him.
Bobby was all too willing to bring the soldiers in Sam's unit up to speed and help them figure out what they were dealing with whenever Sam got called in by the army to lead a hunt.
Left unspoken was that Dean would be joining him from now on. Sam could only wonder how John would react to the news his son was in the service.
