"Guess who's up?" Dean asked, watching as the dog visually tracked Sam's path upstairs; the floorboards creaking under Sam's footsteps as the kid made his way from their room to the bathroom.

A door shut, and the dog looked at Dean questioningly.

"He's always been a prude," Dean informed good-naturedly. "He could be the only one in the house, and he'd still shut the door before taking a piss."

The dog stared at Dean, seeming to know that Dean was the exact opposite; that he would not only leave the bathroom door wide open for all to see but would also take a leak in the yard if the mood struck him.

"Hey. Glass houses, my friend..." Dean reminded, hearing the toilet flush and the door reopen.

"Dean?"

The black Lab wagged its tail in recognition of Sam's voice; its attention darting from the ceiling to Dean. Is it...?

"Yep, it's him," Dean confirmed quietly and smiled, the expression tinged with sadness.

Because this was another part of their routine these days; Sam would wake up, take care of his business, and then immediately seek out Dean. The same would happen after a seizure, minus the bathroom break. And while part of Dean was always touched that Sam sought him first – just like when they were kids – another part was troubled for the reason behind it.

"Down here," Dean called, knowing if he did not answer as quickly as Sam thought he should, his kid brother would panic.

"I thought you had left," Hell Sam had whispered to Dean more than once over the past few weeks. "He said you were gone. But please don't go. Please don't leave me."

And Dean had nodded earnestly each time; had been too overcome by the swell of emotion to have done anything else. Because Dean knew who "he" was, and although Dean had not been in the Cage, he knew how it felt to have that lie repeatedly thrown in your face in the depths of Hell; that your greatest fear had finally come true; that your brother had left, and you were alone...forever.

And although Sam had not spoken of it, Dean knew his brother harbored the same fear as Hell Sam.

Please don't leave me.

Dean blinked as he heard Sam pad down the hall, heading towards the stairs, and then glanced at the dog as it sat up; its gaze focused on the kitchen's doorway; its ears perked and tail wagging as its body leaned slightly forward.

Dean narrowed his eyes. He knew the dog was just excited and its body language was expressing its anticipation, but he suddenly felt uneasy. Because what if this dog pounced on Sam as soon the kid came into the room? Not that it would intentionally try to hurt his brother – it seemed smarter than that – but what if out of well-meaning enthusiasm, it momentarily lost control and threw itself at Sam as a greeting?

The top step creaked as it bore Sam's weight, and Dean casually stood, snagging his mug from the table as he did so and crossing to the sink. He glanced out the window, noticing Bobby ducked under the hood of a car, and turned around to lean against the counter, still grasping his mug and effectively putting himself between the dog and Sam.

The canine glanced at him. Dude. Relax.

"You relax," Dean retorted quietly, each of Sam's descending steps increasing his unease and sudden anxiety.

Because what if this was a bad idea? What if instead of being thrilled by the surprise and ecstatic to finally have a dog of his own, Sam was hurt and pissed that they had sprung it on him; that they had decided what was best for him without even discussing it with him first? Or worse, what if Sam was having another Wednesday and totally freaked out the second he came in the room?

Dean swallowed, wondering if it was too late to hide the dog and realized his answer when he heard Sam clear the last step.

The black Lab stood, sensing Sam's proximity and unable to sit still any longer.

"Hey. No sudden movements," Dean warned, setting his mug in the sink and pushing away from the counter, further blocking the dog's path to Sam. Because the last thing they wanted – even if Sam was having a good day – was for Sam to be startled.

The canine cut its eyes at Dean. Seriously?

Dean glared back. Seriously.

The dog stared at Dean for a few seconds; the message clear – you're a pain in my ass – and then sat back down on the rug, looking beyond Dean into the hall.

Dean quirked a smile – Dean Winchester, alpha dog – and then turned his back on the canine seconds before Sam stopped in the kitchen's doorway.

Sam was barefoot, wearing blue sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, and his hair was sticking out in all directions as he rubbed his face with both hands and yawned. "Dean..."

Dean gave Sam a once over – everything seemed fine – and then smiled. Because no matter how old his little brother got, Sam still looked like a sleepy kid when he first woke up. "Yeah, Sammy?"

Sam stretched and yawned again, shaking his head as though he had forgotten what he was going to say; which was not unusual during these first few minutes, but still...

Dean felt his smile waver. "You okay?" he asked, watching as Sam's gaze roamed around the kitchen; knowing his brother was just trying to orient himself like he did every morning, but still feeling on edge; getting a weird déjà vu of Wednesday and not liking it one fucking bit. "Hey..."

Sam blinked, instantly focused on Dean. "What?"

"You tell me," Dean responded, his clipped tone indicating his blossoming worry. "You're the one looking a little spaced out. You with me?"

And Sam heard the underlying question – good day or bad day?

Sam nodded, wayward strands of hair strangely falling into place. "Yeah, I'm good," he assured. "I'm just..."

Sam's voice trailed off as his gaze shifted down and to the left, looking beyond Dean; his head tilting slightly, his eyes squinting as though he could not quite figure out what he was seeing behind his brother.

Dean held his breath and resisted the urge to turn and look at what he already knew Sam saw; not wanting to ruin the moment.

The dog stood and wagged its tail. Hi!

There was a beat of silence.

Sam began to shake his head, slow at first and then faster. "No," he stated firmly and closed his eyes. "No, no, no, no, no..."

Dean arched an eyebrow; his heart beating faster with each of Sam's repetitions, with each frantic shake of his brother's head. This was not good. "Sam..."

Sam opened his eyes, immediately looking at the dog behind Dean – the dog that Dean did not seem to know was even there since Dean had not turned around to acknowledge it – and then shook his head once more.

"Sam..."

Sam made a distressed sound low in his throat. Because he thought this was over. Why was this happening again?

Dean felt as though his heart would beat out of his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"Sammy..." Dean called; his eyes never leaving his brother's face; his tone gentle and cautious as if he was talking to a spooked animal.

"Dean..." Sam whispered, as though he was afraid of spooking an animal himself.

Dean frowned at the panicked tone of Sam's voice, at the expression on his face. "What?"

Please tell me, and I'll make it better.

Because no matter how many favors Bobby had called in or how much Dean was beginning to like this dog, if Sam said he wanted the Lab gone, its ass would be out the door in the next second.

"Sam..." Dean called again. "Just tell me. What?"

"I..." Sam paused, continuing to stare beyond Dean and blinking against welling tears. "I'm sorry."

Dean's frown deepened. Of all the potential reactions he had imagined, this was not among them. Granted, tearful apologies sometimes seemed to be Sam's default setting these days, but still...what the hell?

Dean shook his head. "Sorry for what, Sam?"

Sam's attention flickered to the dog. Go away!

The canine tilted its head. Why? What's wrong?

Sam blinked. Did the dog just somehow respond to him? That was...unusual.

Sam glanced back at Dean. "I think maybe it is a bad day," he confessed quietly in that broken tone he did so well. "And I'm..." He swallowed. "I'm sorry..."

Because they all knew how rough Wednesday had been, and now it seemed it was happening all over again. Not that Sam could remember any specifics. But he knew if there was a day he could not remember – like Wednesday – it was because he had not been present for most of it. The other versions of himself had taken turns surfacing, and although Dean had assured him everything was okay, Sam could only imagine what they had done or said during their visits to his reality.

And Sam hated it. He hated the memories and nightmares and hallucinations. He hated the seizures. He hated the personality shifts and feeling like although he had supposedly put himself back together, he was still scattered and out of control.

But most of all, Sam hated the burden he had become to Dean and Bobby. He knew they would never say that – would probably never even think that – but fuck! They deserved a day when they did not have to worry about Sam; when they did not have to drop everything because Sam was having a bad day; when they did not have to constantly remind Sam that everything he thought he saw was not necessarily real.

Like today...

Sam glanced at the dog still standing on the rug behind Dean and then closed his eyes, lifting his hands to either side of his head. Not real. Not real. Not real...

Dean watched in dread as Sam turned inward, closing himself off as he often did on bad days.

The black Lab whined, sensing Sam's obvious distress, and nudged Dean's hand. Do something!

Dean jerked away from the cold, wet nose and glared heatedly. He did not need a dog to instruct him on how to handle his brother, especially when it seemed the canine was the reason Sam was upset.

"Sammy..." Dean closed the gap between himself and his brother and carefully grasped the kid's wrists, lowering Sam's hands from his head. "Hey..." He lightly rubbed Sam's arm. "Look at me."

Sam swallowed but did nothing else.

The dog whined again.

Dean cut his eyes in the direction of the noise – I got this – and silently snarled – so shut the fuck up.

The dog's eyes seemed to widened, but it sat down without another sound; its gaze solely on Sam.

Dean sighed, surprised by how shaky he felt; by how unprepared he was for Sam's meltdown. And that was inexcusable, because now more than ever – when Sam could go from perfectly fine to seriously fucked in less than a breath – Dean had to be ready for anything.

Dean stared at his brother, knowing if he could reestablish eye contact, he would have a chance at bringing Sam back. But the longer Sam's eyes stayed closed, the further away he drifted...and the worse their day got.

"Sam..." Dean called, gently squeezing his brother's shoulder. "C'mon, man. Look at me, huh?"

A few seconds passed before Sam inhaled shakily and did as he was asked.

There was a beat of silence.

Dean smiled encouragingly. "Hey."

Sam offered a watery smile in return. "Hey."

Dean's smile broadened, feeling some of his own anxiety dissipate. This was definitely progress. "I think you left me for a minute..." he reported casually. "You with me now?"

Sam hesitated, his gaze once again shifting to the dog. Why was it still there? He had told himself it was not real – and he believed it – so why was it still there?

"Sam?" Dean prompted. "You okay?"

Sam glanced back at Dean, fresh tears brimming as he shook his head.

Dean nodded. No surprise there. "It's okay," he soothed automatically. "Just talk to me."

Because Sam was remarkably honest these days. If he was able, he would tell Dean what he felt or saw or heard, and Dean would either confirm or negate accordingly. Sam would usually take a few minutes to internalize the information – to block out the hallucination and to ground himself in reality – and then they would move on with their lives.

In fact lately, Dean had noticed Sam doing the whole process for himself; staring at a particular space in the room or tilting his head as though he heard something and then closing his eyes, as if to convince himself that whatever it was, it was not real. Much like he had just done...

Dean blinked.

Wait.

Turning slightly, Dean glanced at the dog that was alternately looking at him and staring at Sam.

Wait...

Relief spread through Dean's chest as he suddenly realized exactly what was going on here; Sam was upset because he thought the dog was just another hallucination. Sam had not seen Dean acknowledge the canine in any way, so the kid had figured it was not really there. Because Sam was so used to second-guessing himself these days, he did not trust what he saw – especially if it was out of the ordinary...like a dog in Bobby's kitchen – and just automatically assumed it was not real.

And if Sam thought he was hallucinating within minutes of being awake, then no wonder the kid was upset; no wonder he was predicting another Wednesday and was thus shutting down.

Dean shook his head, his heart freshly breaking for his brother. Ah, Sammy...

"It's still there," Sam quietly informed, as if Dean had asked him a question. "I know it's not real." His confusion and distress were still evident in his tone. "So, why is it still there?"

"What's still there, Sam?" Dean asked patiently, confident he knew but wanting to make sure Sam was not seeing something else besides the dog.

An expression of panicked humiliation crossed Sam's face – because this was another part he hated – and he wondered, not for the first time, if Dean thought he was crazy. "A dog," he whispered and then swallowed. "I see a dog behind you."

Which sounded like a line from either a children's book or a horror movie, and Sam laughed humorlessly before closing his eyes again. Because he did not want to be crazy; he did not want to be a burden; and he did not want to endure another bad day that he would not even remember tomorrow.

"It's okay," Dean soothed, knowing what Sam was thinking, and glanced behind him.

The dog tilted its head – first one way, then the other – and looked at Dean. What the fuck is going on?

Dean quirked a smile – because only their dog would drop the f-bomb – and shook his head. Just another day in the Winchester life...

The canine sighed.

Dean did the same, feeling his heart constrict; because he could always steel himself against anyone's pain, anyone's tears...except Sam's

And enough was enough. Sam was supposed to be happy, not further traumatized by this experience.

"Sammy..." Dean called, lightly rubbing his brother's arm again.

Sam exhaled shakily and opened his eyes, lashes wet. "Dean, I..."

Dean shook his head to silence his brother. "Listen to me. First of all, you are not crazy. And if I catch you thinking that again, I'll kick your ass. You hear me?"

The corner of Sam's mouth twitched as he sniffled – trying to pull himself together – and nodded.

"Second of all..." Dean continued, making sure Sam was looking at him. "You are not now – and never have been – a burden. Am I makin' myself clear?"

Sam gave a small smile at Dean's tough love approach and nodded again, feeling himself calm as his brother's voice washed over him.

"And third of all...I don't think you're having a bad day, Sammy. 'Cause what you're seeing is real," Dean assured and then paused, allowing his words to take hold. "There is a dog behind me."

There was silence.

Sam swallowed, his gaze flickering between Dean and the dog. "You see the dog?"

Dean smiled. "Yep."

Sam's gaze flickered again. "Really?"

Dean's smile widened. "Really."

As if sensing its cue, the black Lab got to its feet and came to stand beside Dean as it wagged its tail. Hi again!

Sam's eyes swept over the dog, feeling himself relax as he continued to stare; because if Dean said it was real, it was real.

There was more silence.

Dean frowned, never liking it when his brother was too quiet. "Sam?"

"I'm okay," Sam instantly assured, knowing Dean was as on edge as he had been. "But man..." He exhaled a shaky breath and laughed nervously. "It really freaked me out for a minute..."

Dean snorted good-naturedly. "Yeah, I noticed. And for what it's worth..." He glanced at the dog. "...you were kinda freaking us out, too."

Sam smiled shyly and ducked his head. "Sorry."

Dean shrugged. "No big deal," he replied, knowing Sam needed to hear it. "If you're good, I'm good."

The dog whined and wagged its tail once. Me, too.

Sam nodded – I'm good – and smiled as he glanced at the dog. "He seems nice," he commented, holding out his hand toward the canine.

The black Lab glanced up at Dean. Okay?

Dean nodded, strangely grateful that the dog had asked his permission.

The dog cautiously stepped forward. Please don't freak out...

Sam laughed as the dog slowly approached. "He's funny."

"Yeah, he's a riot," Dean replied dryly even as he grinned; because this was how it was supposed to happen; Sam smiling and laughing, his distress of seconds before soothed and forgotten.

Sam beamed as the dog came to stand in front of him. "Hey, buddy," he greeted, holding his hand out further.

The dog sniffed Sam's fingers and wagged its tail – because this was the scent it had been trained to know – and then gently nuzzled Sam's palm. Hey, yourself.

Dean watched the interaction, feeling uncharacteristically sappy. "You like him, Sammy?"

"Of course I do," Sam answered, all at once sitting on the floor; his long legs stretched out in front of him as the canine came closer. "I've always liked dogs."

"I know," Dean agreed and smiled as the dog sniffed the length of Sam's arm, up to his neck, and then sat, facing Sam and licking the kid's face.

Sam laughed, swiping his hand across his cheek, and then reached to scratch the dog's ears. "But..." Sam shook his head, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. "I don't understand." He looked up at Dean. "Why is there a dog here? Is it a stray or something?"

"No," Dean replied and eased himself down to sit on the floor opposite his brother, their legs brushing as he situated himself. "And I don't know why the hell we're sitting on the floor when we have perfectly good chairs," he groused, though there was no heat to his words.

"Then sit in a chair," Sam responded, glancing across at Dean and scratching the dog's ears a little harder when the canine leaned into his touch.

"Nah." Dean shook his head and then grimaced as he once again shifted, trying to get comfortable. "I'm good."

Sam quirked a smile knowingly; because Dean would gladly sit on the floor – or anywhere else – as long as he was close to Sam, as long as Sam was okay. And Sam hoped his brother knew how much that meant to him – especially these days – and how it went both ways; that Sam would do anything for Dean, too.

Dean watched his brother watching him and nodded. I know, Sammy.

Sam nodded as well – good – and then blinked, realizing he had stopped scratching the dog's ears when the canine licked his hand.

The black Lab sighed, seeming to know this scenario would happen a lot – the brothers momentarily ignoring it as they focused on each other – and strangely enough, it understood.

"Sorry," Sam apologized, rubbing the dog's broad head.

The canine licked Sam's hand again – it's okay – and then turned in a circle before lying down between the brothers; its back to Dean so it could keep its eyes on Sam.

"So," Sam sighed, glancing at Dean. "If the dog is not a stray, then is Bobby taking care of it for a neighbor or something?"

"No."

Sam paused. "It's not Bobby's, is it?"

"Of course not," Dean scoffed. "Bobby's more of a Poodle man."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean."

"And I think he used to carry a Chihuahua in a man purse."

The dog glanced over its shoulder, seeming to glare at Dean. Quit dicking around and tell him.

Dean laughed, actually glad to be in the line of fire of two bitchfaces and wondering if the dog really had a potty-mouth or if it was just his own interpretation.

"You done?" Sam asked dryly.

Dean laughed again – I love you, Sammy...never change – and then shrugged.

Sam sighed – half because he was annoyed and half because Dean expected him to – and then rephrased his question. "So, does the dog belong to Bobby or not?"

Dean shook his head, his smile lingering. "No. Bobby's the one that got the dog and brought it here to stay, but it doesn't belong to him."

Sam frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

"Of course it does," Dean countered.

"If the dog is staying here, then it has to belong to someone," Sam argued. "So if it doesn't belong to Bobby, then who does it belong to?"

"You," Dean answered simply and then waited for his brother's reaction.

There was silence.

Dean and the dog watched as Sam's gaze once again flickered between them.

The dog glanced back at Dean. Is he okay?

Dean nodded. Just give him a minute.

Then there was more silence.

"Dude, say something!" Dean blurted, knowing Sam was just shocked – not freaked – but still a bit unnerved by his brother's silence.

Sam laughed in that nervous, shy way he often did when he was happy but was too surprised and overwhelmed to know what to say.

Dean chuckled. "Speechless?"

Sam smiled, dimples and all. "Yeah, I guess. I just..." He shook his head in amazement. "I don't know what to say."

"Which is the definition of 'speechless'..." Dean commented in a scholarly tone and smiled when Sam sent a weak glare in his direction.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam retorted and laughed.

Dean smiled, wishing he could bottle this feeling, this moment. "Do you like him?"

"I love him," Sam immediately responded, reaching toward the dog – his dog – once again.

The dog wagged its tail and licked Sam's hand. Back at you.

Sam continued to smile, his cheeks beginning to hurt from the intensity of the expression. "I still don't get it, though," he commented. "I mean...I love him…" – and I love you for doing this – "...but why are you giving me a dog?"

Dean felt his smile waver a bit as a wave of panic washed over him; because what if the reason somehow diminished Sam's excitement? "We'll get to that..." he evaded and knew Sam realized what he was doing when his brother narrowed his eyes.

"We'll get to that?" Sam repeated skeptically. He paused, his smile fading as dread crept up his spine. "Dean..."

"It's okay," Dean soothed, his panic marginally increasing now that Sam was no longer smiling. "It's nothing bad."

"Then tell me," Sam demanded, shifting where he sat on the floor and looking a little panicked himself.

The dog whined softly and nudged Sam's hand. Don't get upset again.

Sam smiled weakly and patted the canine's head. "Dean, tell me."

"I will tell you," Dean assured calmly. "We'll discuss it and read the pamphlet and – "

"Pamphlet?" Sam interrupted, looking even more confused. "The dog came with a pamphlet?"

"It's more than kids come with," Dean joked lamely and swallowed as Sam continued to stare at him. "Sam...relax, okay? This dog is gonna be good for you...good for us..."

The black Lab glanced over its shoulder at Dean, and if it was possible for a dog to look cheeky, it did. You do care.

Dean glared. Shut up.

Sam arched an eyebrow and felt his smile return, amused at the interaction between his brother and the dog.

Dean sighed. "Listen...we have all day to talk about this – and we will – but first, there's something you need to do."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Name this dog, so I can stop referring to it as 'it' in my mind."

The canine made a sound low in its throat, cutting its eyes in Dean's direction. Wanna know what I call you, jackass?

Dean quirked a smile. He really was beginning to love this dog.

Sam's forehead wrinkled. "It doesn't have a name?"

"Not yet. So name it..." Dean looked at Sam meaningfully. "And remember it's a boy, so no Disney princess names or whatever..."

Sam bitchfaced his brother.

And Dean laughed. "Just sayin', Sammy..."

Sam sighed, not even bothering to answer, and stared intently at the dog.

Who stared intently back.

Dean shifted from where sat on the floor, feeling ridiculously anxious about this naming issue. It would be just like Sam to name the dog after a poet or something equally emo. And while he guessed that was fine – because it was Sam's dog – Dean really wanted the canine to have a cool name, something Dean would not be embarrassed to call in public.

Sam glanced at his brother, suppressing a smile at the expression on Dean's face. Just for fun, Sam thought about naming the dog "Whitman" or "Emerson" because he knew Dean expected as much. Or maybe he would call the dog "Jack" as in "blackjack" because the Lab was black and that was one of Sam's favorite games to play online. Or maybe "Chance" because what were the chances that, after all these years, he would finally have a dog? Or maybe the dog should be named "Hunter" to honor what they used to do; what they would eventually return to doing.

Sam sighed. This was harder than he thought.

Dean shifted again on the floor – his back beginning to cramp – and resisted the urge to offer ideas.

The dog yawned and rested its head on Sam's leg.

Sam smiled and rubbed the dog's head, glancing again at Dean. Whatever he named the Lab needed to be something as equally awesome and badass as the person that gave it to him; something that would somehow honor Dean; something that Dean would like and would instantly recognize as a tribute.

So...

The Impala...pie...chicks...guns...music...

Sam blinked.

Music. Like...

Sam smiled and looked at Dean. It was perfect.

Dean arched an eyebrow. He was afraid to ask, but... "What?"

"Zepp," Sam replied, beaming. "The dog's name is Zepp."

The canine lifted its head.

"Zepp?" Dean repeated and shook his head. "What the hell is a 'Zepp'?"

The dog blinked. Yeah, what he said.

Sam laughed. "Short for 'zeppelin'," he explained.

"Like Led Zeppelin?" Dean clarified, because that was the only zeppelin he knew.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

Dean shook his head again, still confused. "But why? That's my favorite band, not yours."

"I know," Sam answered simply and held his brother's gaze.

Understanding lit in Dean's eyes, and he swallowed against the emotion suddenly lodged in his throat before slowly shaking his head, always amazed by his little brother. Ah, Sammy...

Sam scrunched his face at Dean's expression. "What?"

"Nothing, just..." Dean shook his head again. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," Sam responded and felt warmth spread through his chest; because making Dean happy always made Sam happy, too.

Dean smiled. Thanks, Sammy.

Sam nodded – you're welcome – and glanced down at the dog before looking back at Dean – thank you.

Dean also nodded – you're welcome – and wondered if Sam knew how much he loved him, how much he loved seeing him happy.

There was a beat of silence.

"So," Sam sighed, ending the moment before Dean got uncomfortable. "Is 'Zepp' a name you can live with?"

Dean chuckled. "It is."

Sam glanced at the dog again. "How 'bout you, Zepp? Do you like your name?"

The black Lab wagged its tail – not bad – and licked Sam's hand.

"I think Zepp approves," Dean commented, surprised by how much better he felt now that he could call the dog by an actual name.

"I think so, too," Sam agreed, placing his hands on either side of Zepp's head and vigorously scratching behind both of the dog's ears.

Zepp wagged his tail and playfully nipped back at Sam as he pawed Sam's leg.

"And you know..." Sam paused, making sure Dean was looking at him. "Zepp isn't just my dog. He's ours."

Dean blinked. "But I haven't even told you why Zepp's here," he reminded.

"Doesn't matter," Sam countered. "He's still ours, not just mine."

Dean smiled affectionately and nodded – because it was just like Sam to share whatever he had with Dean – and watched as Sam continued to rough-house with Zepp on the dusty wooden floor of Bobby's kitchen.

They sat in companionable silence across from each other for several minutes until Dean sighed, feeling a strange mix of happiness and peace as he continued to watch his brother and their dog.

"This is gonna be a good day," Dean proclaimed – because it just had to be – and smiled when Sam looked over at him.

Sam grinned in response, his dimples making another appearance. "It already is."

FIN

I have plans to develop a 'verse with the boys and Zepp, so stay tuned for future stories.