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The sun’s bright. That’s Dean’s first thought; the sun is very bright today. It feels good. His eyes blink lazily open, squeezing back shut as his pupils turn into slits from the light. It’s not like he needs to do anything today. No hunts. The weight of Sam’s chin on his back tells him his baby brother hasn’t gone off and done something stupid (again), so no wayward cat to track-down. For once, it’d just be nice to spend a day here, curled up in the sun, sleeping...
"Dean. Hey, Dean."
No. No, Sammy, no. Just let me sleep for once. His ears go flat and his eyes shut tighter, whiskers twitching. Yet still, Sam's weight lifts and then a paw pokes at his belly.
"Dean."
With a swallowed growl, the brown-speckled cat sits up, spitting out, "What?!" The tip of his tail lashes back and forth and his shoulders hunch. He was really looking forward to sleeping all day, after last night's hunt.
Sam's ears -- already floppy, just barely poking out of his wild, long fur -- dip low. "I was just thinking of going for a walk. Wanted to tell you so you didn't freak out."
Oh no, his eyes are getting big and Dean can't handle that. His back fur twitches and then lays flat. He can never stay mad at Sam when he looks like a freakin' kit. "Yeah, okay. Fine. ...Sorry." The last bit, for the record, is muttered out the side of his mouth, muffled as he swiftly licks his paw and starts to wash his face.
But that doesn't stop Sam from hearing it, and it doesn't stop him from nudging Dean's shoulder -- the left one, the one with five deep and clear claw marks, even now -- with his forehead. His right ear flicks and he hits Sam with his paw.
"Thanks."
Dean lays back down, stretching out in the alley sun. It's nice, here. This alleyway's been their home for the past month or so. They haven't stayed somewhere this long in... Well, in a long time. Maybe he just wants to drink it in. Maybe that. "Aw, c'mon, Sam. Don't be a girl."
"Excuse me? What's that about?" It's muffled, but a voice calls out from the ledge overlooking the alley. He looks up and there's a small, sandy-colored Maine Coon shorthair mix, a bird clenched in her teeth. She's just rounded the ledge -- it stretches around the whole apartment complex lining the alleyway, a cat can get through the whole neighborhood using just those ledges -- and probably just caught the tail end of their conversation. Dean really hopes she didn't see that whole bit about Sam acting like a little kit.
"Come on, Jo." Dean starts to sit up, finally conceding that with her and Sam around, he won't be able to get any more sleep. "You know I didn't mean anything by it."
With a few graceful leaps, she's down from the ledge, down to the garbage cans, down next to them in the alley, dropping the dead bird in front of her and licking the blood from her jowls. "Don't give me that crap. Who's the one with kill right now? You? No, looks like it's me."
That sound had better not be Sam trying not to laugh. It's too early for this. "Yeah. Hunting. Your mom know you're out here? She'll scratch up your face if she finds out."
"She won't even know I'm gone," Jo dismisses, starting to smooth her messy fur with her front paws. "Got Ash to stick his tail in the wall-socket again, she'll be distracted for hours."
The brother exchange a look. There's something very wrong about a cat who enjoys being electrocuted...
"How's the prey running, Jo?" Sam asks, eyeing that bird. Apparently that walk's going to wait now. "Or...flying."
Because hunting is by far her favorite topic, Jo brightens up. She sits taller and curls her front paws in front of her, claws extended. "Great. This guy was terrorizing that tabby kit down the street, you know the one." Dean wonders how a bird could terrorize anyone -- but no, it is rather large. How did Jo even carry that thing? "Not too much going on, though. Not after you guys killed that pack of rats last night."
"Don't remind me." Dean unconsciously starts liking at a new scar on his chest, causing Jo to nose in to get a closer look at it.
"Hey. Why didn't you drop by after? Mom coulda looked you over. Or the humans coulda. Something."
He can feel her whiskers against his chest, so he backs up. Sam fields this one, with a simple, "We feel more comfortable out here. Plus with you and Ash and Ellen-- that's enough cats for one house."
Except Jo's place-- the cats in the neighborhood call it the Roadhouse. The folk who own it leave the catflap open at all hours of the day, letting any weary feline rest their paws, get some food or cream, a nice place to rest. Most don't stay too long. Only Jo and Ellen and Ash live there permanently, the former two finding shelter after Ellen's mate was killed by those wild forest cats. Ash wandered in a bit after that. Just decided to never leave. Ellen and Jo don't mind at all.
So there's more than enough room. They all know that. Especially Jo, who's been trying to get them to stay more than a night since...well, they've all lost track. "Yeah, that's a great idea. Or maybe you'll get your tails clawed off by forest cats one night." Her sandy ears are slicked back and her nose twitches. At times like this -- with her tail puffed up to twice its size -- that Dean can see her mom in her. "I swear, you two are just--"
But a sharp mrow escapes her jaws in the middle of what Dean is sure was turning out to be a fine lecture. He doesn't understand what stopped her, but then a low rumbling from behind him tips him off.
"I'm surprised you haven't moved yet."
Dean's lounging has officially come to an end, because behind him -- whiskers touching his fur -- is a sleek, medium-sized black tom. He scrambles to all fours, almost falling into Sam and Jo as he trips in surprise. "Dammit Cas! We've talked about this!" How can this cat move so stealthily, or better yet always hide his scent?! Is there something in the water at those cushy, fancy mansions where all the high-end cats live?
Sam's laughter has spread to Jo, as they have recovered much faster than Dean has, his heartbeat slowing. Even though they are just one step away from becoming a big catpile, the two of them are always amused by Castiel's silent appearances.
"I brought a mouse." Indeed he has. Castiel drops the mouse in front of them. It's quite a bit smaller than Jo's bird (more like a small hawk), but it's still impressive.
"Thought we wouldn't see you for awhile." Sam doesn't even try to hide the purr in his voice. The other rich cats have made it no secret that they don't like Castiel visiting the street cats. After the last time he sneaked out...well, Dean really didn't think he'd see hide nor hair of Cas for a long time.
As Jo, also purring quite loud, trots up to inspect the mouse, her tail purposely brushing over Castiel's ears, Dean curls his front paws under his body, purposely not looking at the rest of them. It would be a lie to say he wasn't glad to see Cas. A very big lie. They met when he pulled Dean out of a horde of forest cats, stuck beyond the fence between the wild and civilization. One moment, he's fighting tooth and claw on a woodpile near the fence, slick with blood and sure he'll never see Sam again. The next, five sharp claws catch his shoulder and yank him up to the fence, back away from those beyond feral beasts intent on ripping him limb from limb.
He doesn't remember much of what happened next. Apparently he mumbled out something about the Roadhouse or Bobby's -- the cabin-like house where their father figure lives, on the edge of town but still safe. Though Dean's taller, stockier, Castiel near-dragged him to Bobby's, the closer of the two, and somehow he was patched up, most of the scars healing, but the claw marks from Castiel remaining, still there, healed but visible.
I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.
Castiel. The most over-dramatic cat Dean's ever met.
He can barely hide his purr either. Stupid fuzzball Castiel.
"I was on my way to visit Anna," Castiel says, sitting straight and proper even as Jo nudges him with her nose. It's like a goal of hers to get him to loosen up. ...It's a goal of Dean's too, honestly. "But she doesn't expect me for another ten minutes. ...I am sure she wouldn't mind visitors..."
His tail sticking straight up, Sam suddenly yowls, "Visitors! No, no-- I'm sorry, I have to go. I, well-- I promised Maddie--" Sam casts a guilty look at Dean, wincing as his brother straightens his shoulders to their full height.
"Madison." The wolfdog. Dean will never understand his brother, honestly. "...Yeah, okay. I can't stop you."
All eyes are on Dean as Sam, a shamelessly surprised but grateful grin spreading across his face, perks even his floppy ears up. "Really? Well-- alright, I'll-- I'll be back later, okay?" He nods at Jo and Castiel and hurries off.
His fur feels hot; the other two are just...staring at him. "What? Who got a tick in your fur, c'mon."
"You're not very nice about Sam and that dog, Dean," Jo comments, stalking up and inspecting him.
And Castiel too, of course. "The last time he talked about seeing her--"
"Yeah, okay, I know!" His ears flick. Dean turns so fast his tail hits Jo in the face. He ignores her almost reactionary hiss and starts to lick his chest fur. "Guess I'm just... It's nothing, got it?"
Though Jo's turned away to recollect her bird by now, he can still feel Cas's blue eyes. There's something about that stare...
"Go and share this with Anna." Jo nudges the bird over to Castiel with her nose. "That lil' mouse won't last you two long."
Dean watches over his shoulder as Castiel triers to insist against it and Jo keeps pressing. In the end, he concedes. About the mouse-- "You can keep it, Dean."
Those large blue eyes...well, he can't say no. A mumbled thanks and he clears his throat. "Should probably do some hunting of my own anyway. Thanks for the offer, Cas, but just tell Anna I say hey."
Castiel shifts from paw to paw, and when he simply says, "All right," Dean knows there's more, but then there's always more, more that never comes out and Dean can never even verbalize.
"We could hunt together," Jo ventures. Her ears are pricked forward. He knows that look too, how eager it is.
"Should probably do it on my own." When her tail falls flat, he feels like the biggest jerk in the world. Everyone's got the habit of making him feel like that. Or maybe he just does it to himself.
They bid farewell and go their separate ways. While Jo and Castiel take the ledges -- his eyes linger as they leave, both in different directions, watching as their pelts growing tinier and tinier and how Cas seems to almost fly along the building sides -- Dean takes the ground, always preferring to be closer down than high up. A necklace thumps against his chest as he walks, one that Sam gave him when they were kits, one that he never ever slips out of.
It's not like he wants to hunt on his own. Maybe. He's just in a bad mood. Sometimes days just start out like that, he tells himself. At least Sam's probably enjoying himself. They'd asked him but really, all he wants, if Sammy's happy...
His head is swimming. He can barely scent anything. His chest hurts again, like it did last night. Maybe it's scarring. He's not supposed to still smell blood, is he? Well, maybe it reopened. That's happened before. He shakes his head to get rid of the cobwebs more often than he'd like.
Jo was right; there's not much out today. He ends up returning to the alley, curling up as the sun grows lower in the sky and placing his paw on the toy car he'd gotten from his dad, moving her back and forth, his Baby. His Impala. Maybe he falls back asleep. Maybe, because the sun's low in the sky when he finally hears a soft, "Dean."
Sam's in front of him, peering down. "Dean. Come on."
At first, he doesn't get it. Except he does, deep down. He really does. His whiskers bounce up and down. He picks up the Impala in his jaws and follows Sam, half-dazed. He lets his brother lead this time. He doesn't even realize until they're there that he's in front of the Roadhouse, doesn't even acknowledge it until Sam's nosing him through the catflap.
It's a busy night. But Dean can recognize most of the smells. He can really recognize them, as big ol' brown Ragdoll Bobby, his fur bigger than Dean's entire body, just descends on him and half pulls him to the kitchen, a muttered "idjit" reaching his ears.
The humans are surprised; they haven't seen this cat in awhile. A scratch down his chest too-- an infected one. Dean doesn't fight as they clean it and wash it out. He's just tired. Too tired. When asked later, he'll say he was just a bit delirious. He was a bit crazy. He was too tired. Really...
Well, Sammy's always been the more perceptive of them. He's glad for that.
A pillow's nice, he remembers as he lays on his side, Sam walking over and curling up next to him. "I really could...get used to this." He doesn't mean it. Of course he doesn't, they'll be gone in the morning. Yet at the same time, he still sort of does.
"Sure, Dean."
A small weight against his back. "My bed, Dean." Jo's scent is swimming in his nose, swimming alongside Sam's. She doesn't try to push him out, she just curls up. "You guys have to share."
He'll say it's the medicine those humans gave him that makes him give in. He'll say it's that and the cream. He'll say it's how warm this is. Or maybe it's Ellen walking over, fur puffed out all over, and roughly licking him between the ears, grumbling about how he can't take care of himself.
Or maybe it's the other scents, those of Castiel and Anna, Sam's soft urging voice as they join them, Castiel curled with his head -- tentatively -- on Dean's back, next to Jo, and Anna on her brother. Lights are out and cats are drifting off to sleep. It hits him then that he's never slept in a pile this big. He hasn't slept curled with anyone other than Sam since...
Since a long time ago. Someone licks his ear. Someone snuggles deeper into his back. Someone -- all of them -- purrs loud, so loud he can feel it. They'll be gone in the morning, but right now-- right now, he can't imagine anywhere else he'd rather be.
One of his front paws reaches out and wraps about Sam's chest. It's unconscious, but he can't stand being too far from him.
"Don't worry Dean. I'm staying right here."
He dreams of better times. He dreams of home, and for the first time, he thinks maybe that's exactly where he is.