Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time he should have died was when he was a kitten. It was hardly fair, losing his life when he was only just starting it. But being born in January on a cold Chicago street wasn't easy, and pneumonia found him quickly. 

Fortunately, an angel found him pretty quickly too. 

~

He was shivering and scared, and the black car looked warm and its rumbly purr reminded him of his mama, so as soon as the people got out and the coast was clear, he curled up under it. He was so tired, so he let his eyes squint shut until he heard the rustle of bags and clink of glass bottles. He opened his eyes to see a pair of legs and a tan trench coat fluttering around them like wings. 

"Dean, there is a cat under your car," the angel said. 

The angel reached toward him, so he backed up further under the car. 

"You're a shy little fellow," the angel said. 

"Well this is Chi-town," Dean chuckled. 

"I think that's what I'll call you—Shy."

"Don't name it, Cas."

"Why not?"

"Because then you'll want to keep it, and we can't. I'm allergic to cats."

"I can fix that."

"What?"

Cas raised two fingers to Dean's forehead. Dean looked confused and surprised for a moment. 

"Now you're not allergic to cats," Cas stated. "Can we keep him?" Cas asked as he gently scooped Shy up, and they both looked at Dean imploringly with their big blue eyes. Shy's dark fur stuck up in haphazard tufts, and he let out a tiny, pathetic mew. 

"Sonuvabitch. It's like looking at a tiny cat version of you," Dean grumbled. "Fine, just get in the car before Sam starts wondering why a beer run is taking so long."

Shy was a little anxious, but Cas nestled him inside the warm trench coat and the car started purring, so Shy did too. Cas was running his hand along Shy's body and it felt so good he fell asleep until he was being carried into a motel room. 

"Hey Sam, scootch your laptop outta the way, will ya?" Dean said as he started putting bags on the table where Sam was working. Dean set a bottle of milk down next to the alcohol he'd originally gone out to get. 

"Milk? Are you making White Russians?" Sam asked. 

"Not exactly," Dean said. "Cas found a cat." 

"Dean. You're allergic to cats."

"Not anymore!" said Dean, raising his arms and letting them slap back down at his sides for emphasis. "Cas zapped me."

"Huh." Sam processed this information. "So let's see this cat."

Cas set Shy in the palm of Sam's large hand. "His name is Shy," the angel told Sam.

"You already named him? Cas, you shouldn't get too attached. He's so little. What if he doesn't make it?" Sam lowered Shy to the carpet.

"He'll be okay. He probably just needs something to eat," Dean said. He poured some milk into a styrofoam takeout container and put it on the floor for Shy.

Shy tentatively lapped at the milk. It was cold and tasted different than his mama's had. But he drank a little more because he hadn't eaten in days and knew he needed to. Funny, he just hadn't felt hungry lately. Maybe because he was so tired all the time. Maybe he should just close his eyes for a bit.

The next time he opened his eyes it was morning, and Cas was trying to get him to drink more milk. Shy didn't really feel like it. He felt hot. Really hot. But maybe that's what being inside was supposed to feel like.

Shy started drifting back to sleep. He heard Cas' deep voice say things like "concerned," "not eating," and "fever." He felt Cas' fingers on his head between his ears, and then he felt a very strange sensation, like a bolt of energy went through his body and burned away everything that was making him feel sick.

His eyes popped open. Suddenly he felt famished. Shy shoved his face into the milk and licked until his tongue was rasping against dry styrofoam. Then he licked the angel's hand to thank him for saving his life.

"Everything good?" Dean asked.

Shy meowed loudly in response.

Dean laughed. "Then it's time to head home. We roll out in five."

Chapter Text

Shy loved the bunker.

There were strange sigils on the floor of each doorway that Shy had to examine before walking across. He could tell the power coming from them meant safety, though, so he crossed over and meowed at the boys that it was okay for them to follow.

"What'd he sniff the floor for?" Dean asked.

"You know, the lore says black cats can sense the supernatural," Sam said. "Maybe he can tell it's a demon trap."

While the boys settled in, Shy climbed the bookshelves to get a better view of the room and watched them from his high perch. When Sam came over to get a book off the shelf, he rubbed Shy's head. The head pats felt nice and Shy didn't want Sam to stop, so he jumped onto the tall man's shoulder and let himself be carried back to the table, where there were plenty of papers spread out for him to walk on. Sam didn't seem to like that, though, so Shy found a warm place to sit—Sam's laptop—and absorbed the heat emanating from it. But Sam didn't seem to like that either.

"Cas! Will you do something about your cat?" Sam yelled. "He's trying to keep me from getting research done."

"My apologies," Cas said when he entered the room. "I was preparing food and water dishes for him in the kitchen." Shy let the angel pick him up off the computer. "I will give you a tour of the bunker," Cas told Shy.

~

There was so much to explore in the bunker, and so many nooks to squeeze into for a nap. One of his favorite spots was what Cas called "Dean's room." Shy liked sleeping on the mattress that remembered him. He also liked when the dresser drawers were left open enough so he could crawl inside and curl up on the soft, warm flannel and worn, comfy t-shirts.

One time Dean reached into his drawer for a black t-shirt and screamed when he touched Shy instead.

Sam came running in. "What's going on? I heard screaming."

"What? I have no idea what you're talking about. I didn't hear any screaming," Dean denied.

Sam gave him a look but accepted it and left, but Shy knew the truth. He and Dean eyed each other.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball," Dean said.

Shy just blinked lazily at him.

~

What Shy liked even better than sleeping in drawers was sleeping on the clothes while they were still warm. Sometimes when Cas did the laundry, Shy would jump into the basket of clothes fresh from the dryer and he would ride in the basket while Cas carried it back to the bedrooms. When Shy tried that with Sam or Dean, they just pulled him out of the basket and complained about "cat hair on the Fed suits."

Shy figured out that the warm laundry was in the dryer before the basket, so if he could get in there he could enjoy the coziness without them noticing and taking him out. The next time Dean did laundry, Shy was waiting inside the dryer. But the clothes that Dean tossed in weren't warm and dry; they were wet and cold! What dirty trick was Dean trying to pull? Shy wanted to get out, but before he could pull himself out from the pile of fabric, the door was shut and the dryer turned on. Suddenly the little room was spinning and Shy was being tossed all around. He meowed loudly and frantically until the door was yanked open and everything stopped moving.

"What the hell?" Dean exclaimed, peering inside the dryer and pulling Shy out. "You shouldn't be in there, man."

Dean ran to find Castiel and explain what happened. "I think I broke your cat. I was doing laundry and didn't know he was in the dryer and, well, he got a bit shook up. Can you check to see if he's okay?"

Cas caressed Shy, mending what had been injured. "You have to be more careful about where you hide, Shy," the angel admonished.

Shy meowed his agreement. He wasn't going in the laundry room again any time soon!

Chapter Text

Shy noticed that during mealtimes Cas never had any food. He was worried his angel would starve, so he hunted around the bunker until he found a nice fat mouse and took it to the kitchen to lay at Cas' feet.

"You know, cats do that when they think you're not a very good hunter and can't get your own food," Sam said.

Dean laughed around his mouthful of pizza. "I guess you need to go on more hunts with me and Sam, Cas." 

The angel ignored their teasing. "Thank you for the gift, little one," Cas said, picking Shy up and placing him on his lap, "but angels don't need to eat."

This didn't make sense to Shy, but if Cas wasn't going to eat the mouse, he was. He jumped down to the floor to enjoy dinner with his family. 

"That reminds me, I found us a case," Sam said. "Couple of hikers missing their hearts."

"Werewolf?" Dean asked.

"Looks like."

"Alright, let's go."

"What about Shy?" Cas wondered.

"He'll be fine on his own for a little while. I mean, he obviously can find his own food if he needs to."

Shy watched as the men gathered what they needed and packed it into duffle bags. Dean poured out extra bowls of food and water for Shy.

"We should only be gone a few days, but this is supposed to last you the whole time, so don't pig out and eat it all right away," Dean told Shy. Shy acted like he didn't hear that. He was not making any promises.

Wait a minute, they were leaving him? By himself?! Shy didn't want to be left alone. He mewed plaintively but there was no one left in the room to comfort him.

~

Cas sat across from Dean and Sam at a diner booth, picking apart his burger with his fingers and periodically slipping it into his coat pocket. He'd tucked away about one-third of the meat by the time anyone noticed.

"Cas, are you hiding your food so it looks like you ate it?" Sam questioned.

"Dude, you don't have to do that. I'll eat it for you." Dean pulled Cas' plate toward himself and swapped it with his empty one.

Shy meowed when bites of burger stopped appearing for him.

"Cas ... did you bring Shy?"

"No," Cas said in a tone of voice that indicated the opposite.

"Dude. Seriously?"

"I could not leave him. He has separation anxiety." Cas pulled Shy out of his pocket and held him up as if that proved his point.

"Sir, animals are not permitted inside the restaurant," the waitress said, suddenly appearing at their table with the check.

Shy didn't like the looks everyone was giving Cas. He didn't want his angel to be in trouble.

"It's OK, we were just leaving," Dean said, throwing some money on the table and ushering Cas out of the building.

Cas cradled Shy to his chest like he was afraid someone was going to take him away from him, while Sam and Dean exchanged glances in a nonverbal discussion about what they were going to do about this development.

"Fine, Shy can come on the hunt," Dean said, jabbing his pointer finger toward Cas and Shy, "but he'd better not pee in my car." With that warning, they all got into the car and Shy settled down for a nap in Cas' arms.

~

A sudden motion woke Shy and he realized they were exiting the vehicle. Shy caught a glimpse of Dean walking toward a house before being tucked inside Cas' coat pocket. Cas kept his hand cupped around Shy to protect him from being jostled.

Shy heard a knock on the door and then Dean and Cas were introducing themselves to someone who apparently was the girlfriend of one of the hikers that died. Shy didn't pay much attention to the conversation because he could smell dog. Was it dog? Well it smelled scary and he wanted to leave. He scratched at Cas' hand until they started walking back to the Impala.

"What's wrong, Shy?" Cas asked. Shy was trembling. "Dean, I think Shy is upset." Cas held Shy out to Dean, who smoothed his thumb over Shy's cheek a few times. It felt soothing. Shy leaned his head into Dean's hand. 

"Shy seems more upset than that witness did," Dean commented. "She wasn't very broken up about her boyfriend kicking the bucket.

Dean's phone got a text alert. "Sam's ready. Let's go."

Shy calmed down on the drive to pick up Sam.

"So get this," Sam said as he climbed into the car. "The coroner thinks it was an animal attack, except the way the hearts are missing looks like it was done on purpose."

"You think the girlfriend knew she was being cheated on by the victims?" Dean asked.

~

Shy cowered inside Cas' pocket. The scary dog smell was back.

"We know you're a werewolf," Sam said.

"Why did you kill your boyfriend?" Cas demanded.

"Are you kidding? He had it coming," a female voice responded. "Do you know what that jerk did? He took some hussy from his office on a romantic picnic to our spot—on our anniversary—after he told me he was too busy with work to meet me for lunch!"

"Is that why you munched on his heart?" Dean asked.

"Yes," she growled. "I gave him my heart and he broke it. So I took his."

"I guess it's true what they say about a woman scorned," Dean commented.

Shy heard a scuffle, and then felt it as Cas jumped into the fight, his coat swinging wildly around. Shy's cozy hiding spot suddenly didn't feel so safe anymore. He was starting to feel queasy.

Something supernaturally strong threw Cas across the room. Shy was caught between the wall and Cas' body, and his tiny bones cracked from the force. Shy felt like he'd been squashed into jelly. He heard a gunshot and a thud, then he blacked out from the pain.

Shy woke up to the sensation of being inflated like a balloon as his ribs popped back into place.

"I'm so sorry, Shy. This is all my fault," Cas apologized.

Shy licked Cas' fingers. It wasn't his fault; Shy was the one who'd begged to come on the hunt, crying in the bunker until Cas smuggled him along in his pocket.

~

Dean insisted burgers were necessary to replenish their iron since they lost blood during the fight, so they stopped at a drive-thru on the way home. A cardboard cup carrier sat on the seat next to Cas. Shy was curled up in one of the cup holes, and a hamburger patty all his own was tucked into another. Shy wasn't allowed to be in Cas' pocket anymore, but he didn't really want to be any time soon anyway. Cas' pocket was full of something yellow, but it wasn't sunshine. Cat gets hit by what feels like a car, you think he has full control over his bladder? 

Chapter Text

Shy was enjoying the up-and-down motion of his warm cushion rocking him to sleep. The big hand covering his back like a blanket was nice too, especially when it stroked his fur or rubbed between his ears. So it was a rude awakening when he was unceremoniously lifted from Sam's chest and set down on the bed. Shy meowed his displeasure.

"Sorry, Shy, but I've been laying in bed bingewatching Netflix long enough. I need to go for a run."

The nerve. He was going to have to train Sam better. At least Cas knew to sit perfectly still until Shy was ready to get up. Hmm, maybe he was available for cuddles. Shy trailed behind Sam through the bunker hoping to come across the angel.

They found Cas in the entryway putting a small hand rake and trowel into a plastic basket. "Oh, hello," he said. "I'm just about to go out to the flower garden."

It seemed everyone was going outside now, so Shy sat by the door waiting for someone to open it.

"If he's going outside, keep an eye on him. He shouldn't be out there alone," Sam said, while stretching for his run.

Shy twitched his tail. Of course he would look after Cas.

The three of them filed through the door, Sam with his iPod and Cas with his basket of gardening tools and gloves. Sam gave a little wave as he put his headphones in and jogged down the road. Shy turned his attention to Castiel, accompanying him to the garden.

Shy watched Cas tend to his plants, pulling weeds away from the lillies and snapdragons he'd planted. A bee was hovering around the colorful flowers, so Shy followed it as it investigated each bloom. If it tried to sting Cas, he'd be ready. Sam was trusting him to keep the angel safe, after all.

Shy wanted to sit in the basket, but Cas kept putting weeds in it, and it's hard to relax when foliage is constantly falling on you. Instead he helped Cas hunt the offending items, biting a few and snapping the stems. Let that be a lesson to them.

After his romp through the flowers Shy was dusted with pollen, so he found a sunny spot in the grass to lick himself clean.

Gardening was thirsty work. As soon as he escorted Cas back inside the bunker, Shy headed to the kitchen for a drink of water. Dean was in there working on something, so Shy jumped up on the counter for a better look. There were circles of dough that Dean was rolling flat and pressing into a pie tin. When Dean turned away to prepare the fruit filling, Shy decided to help him by flattening the dough some more. He reached a paw out and tentatively pressed down. The soft substance squished under his foot. Shy pulled his paw back, leaving evidence of his helpfulness behind.

"What the hell, Shy?!" Dean exclaimed when he saw the paw print on his pie dough.

Shy supposed he had done enough helping for the day, and would leave the baking to Dean. He was feeling a bit tired anyway. An open kitchen drawer containing a stack of dish towels looked like the perfect place for a well-earned nap. Shy curled up in the small enclosure and tucked his face down into the fabric, lulled to sleep by the sound of Dean humming Metallica.

...

The second rude awakening of Shy's day occurred when a pot holder was removed from the drawer he was currently inhabiting. After another pot holder was yanked from underneath him, Shy decided to relocate to less turbulent accommodations.

Dean was taking the fresh pie out of the oven. Normally this is when Shy would start sniffing around to see if he'd get to eat anything, but he actually felt a little sick. Correction, a lot sick, if the vomit currently exiting Shy's body was anything to go by.

Shy was working up the energy for another round of puking when his face was suddenly smothered with a towel for a moment. Sam wiped his fur clean while Dean took care of the mess on the floor.

"Did you let him eat something he shouldn't have?" Sam asked.

"What? No!" Dean retorted. "I mean, I don't think so. He was in here when I was making the pie but I don't think he ate anything. Maybe he ate grass or something when he was outside."

Sam considered this. "Cas, what do you have in your garden?"

"Snapdragons, lillies, sunflowers, of course, since this is Kansas. I'm thinking of planting some vegetables, Sam, if there's anything you'd like-"

"Oh god," Sam said.

"That's normally my reaction to vegetables," Dean joked.

"Shut up, Dean. The lillies. They're poisonous to cats. Cas, you were supposed to watch Shy!"

Wait, what did Sam mean Cas was supposed to watch him? Shy was pretty sure it had been the other way around.

Cas mumbled something half defensive, half apology that Shy was too busy tossing his cookies to hear.

"... even if it's just pollen or a couple leaves," Sam was saying.

"How do you know?" Dean asked.

"Amelia," Sam said, and left it at that. "We have to get Shy to the vet!"

"No, we don't," Cas said.

"Yes, we do," Sam argued. "His kidneys are going to shut down and he'll die."

Cas just rolled his eyes and reached two fingers over to Shy's head. Shy felt that now-familiar bolt of energy course through him and take away the sick feeling.

"I removed all the toxins from his body. He'll be fine."

"Oh. Right." Sam looked at the angel a bit sheepishly. "Well, we should still keep him hydrated."

...

Shy was finally getting all the snuggles he deserved. He hadn't been put down since his near-death experience earlier. It was currently Dean's turn to hold him, and the hunter was doing an adequate job, despite only one hand being devoted to Shy as the other was occupied with forkfuls of pie. Shy still hadn't been offered any, but he had all the water he could drink. He thought he could feel it sloshing around in his stomach. He needed to eat something to soak it up. Like pie. If he could just grab a bite when Dean wasn't looking.

Chapter Text

"We got a letter from Eileen," Dean said. "She wants to come stay with us at the bunker for a while. Is that OK with you, Sammy?" Dean waggled his eyebrows at Sam, whose face turned pink.

"Shut up."

After Dean chuckled his way out of the room, Sam turned his attention to Shy.

"OK, Shy, it's time to learn your name." Sam bent his fingers toward his palm so that the back of them touched his cheek, and turned his hand so that his fingers became hidden behind the back of his hand. "Shy," he said as he did the motion again. Shy took a curious step forward. Sam gave him a treat. Now Shy was on board. Sam repeated the sign and Shy figured out that responding to it got him another treat. After the treats were gone, Sam gave Shy headpats instead, which was nice too. Apparently this sign meant that Shy would get attention.

A few days later a woman arrived at the bunker.

"This is our cat." Sam pinched his thumb and forefinger together and pulled his hand away from his face, as if he had whiskers. "His name"—Sam held out two fingers together on each hand and tapped one set on top of the other—"is Shy." Sam bent his fingers and twisted his hand against his cheek.

Shy was, true to his name, shy about meeting someone new, but the bent hand and twist of the wrist meant he was wanted, so he walked over to say hello. The woman—whose name was Eileen, apparently—pet Shy as he flicked his tail and curled it around her leg. He wasn't sure yet if he liked her, but then she magically had a treat in her hand for Shy to eat, so he decided to give her a chance.

--

Shy liked to watch over his family and keep them company while they slept. Now that Eileen was living at the bunker, Shy added her room to his nightly rounds.

He lightly jumped up onto Eileen's bed. The mattress dipped and moved a little under Shy but Eileen didn't seem bothered so Shy curled up on the blankets by her feet for a brief nap.

When Shy left Eileen to check on Sam, he discovered the man was still awake, reading in bed. Shy settled on Sam's torso, welcoming the petting that gradually tapered off as Sam grew drowsy.

--

The next night Eileen wasn't in her room, so Shy moved on to Sam's. But Sam's door was shut tight, so Shy couldn't check on him either. He meowed loudly and scratched at the door, but it remained firmly closed. How rude.

Shy padded to the last room, where Dean was sprawled face-down on his bed. Shy laid on Dean's back, holding him down like a fuzzy paperweight.

"Why're you squishin' m'lungs?" Dean mumbled into his pillow. Shy just curled up tighter, tucked his face down against his fur, and settled in for the night. He wasn't letting Dean go anywhere until morning.

When Dean woke up, Shy had made himself at home on the man's head. "Oh m'word, you really are trying to smother me in my sleep." Dean groaned as he lifted Shy off his face. "I guess you want some breakfast, huh?"

Well, duh. Shy let Dean carry him to the kitchen, but squirmed a little while Dean started the coffee and poured some dry cat food into Shy's dish. Shy wasn't excited about the dry food, but food is food, so he munched on it while Dean mixed up some pancake batter and filled a pan with slices of bacon.

"Sammy's probably going to want some fruits or veggies," Dean told Shy. "So I think I'll make an apple topping for the pancakes." He started chopping an apple into bite-sized chunks. "I know what you're thinking, Shy. 'But Dean, apples are for pies!'" The man used a high-pitched voice, as if that's what Shy would sound like if he could talk. "I know," he said, switching back to his regular voice, "but this is as close as I can get and still have it count as breakfast."

Dean put another pan on the stove, melted some butter, and tossed in the apples mixed with vanilla extract, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Soon the kitchen was filled with the delicious aromas of warm cinnamon apple, percolating coffee, and sizzling bacon. Shy's breakfast was becoming less appetizing by the minute. He eyed the bacon Dean was plating next to stacks of pancakes. Shy gave Dean his best big-eyed stare and waved a paw at the savory meat.

Dean caved. "OK, fine, you can have a little bit of bacon. But don't tell Sam!" Dean ripped a strip into pieces and sprinkled the meat into Shy's bowl.

"Don't tell Sam what?" Sam asked as he shuffled into the kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

Dean was saved from answering when Eileen, hot on Sam's heels, exclaimed, "Ooh, pancakes! And bacon!" She eagerly sat down and started eating, taking a moment to sign "thank you" to Dean.

With a wide grin and a spatula in hand, Dean turned back to the stove to scoop the apples out of the pan, mounding them over the pancakes.

Shy slalomed through the legs under the table, rubbing against the three humans to remind them that he was available to help them eat their breakfast. He wished his angel was here. Cas was usually an easy target when it came to begging for food, but he was away on angel business.

Despite Shy's best efforts, the only thing he got was a brief pat on the head. He didn't even get to lick the dishes, which Sam offered to wash while Eileen dried.

Disappointed, Shy returned to his own dishes, lapping up some water and sniffing his kibble for any pieces the bacon might have touched.

"I'm going to get a shower," Eileen said and looked at Sam. "You can join me if you want."

Sam's eyes widened. He cleared his throat and gave a brisk nod as she exited the room.

"So, uh, you and Eileen, huh?" Dean asked. "You sure that's a good idea? Did you tell her you have a deadly dick?"

"Dude!"

"I'm just sayin', that thing should come with a warning label. You should get a tattoo that says 'Caution: side effects may include an untimely demise." Dean dodged the crumpled napkin Sam threw at his head.

"That's not funny, Dean." Sam glared at his brother with his trademark bitchface. "Besides, she's a hunter; she can take care of herself."

"Yeah, man, I know. I just hope this one sticks around for a while. I like her."

"I like her too," Sam said a little shyly.

"Well don't keep her waiting. Go get her, tiger."

--

After a few more nights Shy realized Eileen was sleeping in Sam's room now. If they wanted to share, well, that just made Shy's job of watching over them easier.

--

Shy was in desperate need of cuddles, so he strolled into the library projecting an attitude of "Oh, there's already someone in here? I guess I'll stay anyway." He had already tried that on three rooms that all turned out to be empty, so he was pleased to see he had finally found someone. Both Sam and Eileen were there. Unfortunately Sam was working on his laptop, and Shy knew from past failed attempts at garnering attention that the man was very focused when he was working. That left Eileen, who was reading a book. With her, Shy had learned that no amount of meowing could get her attention, no matter how loud he was, so he had to take a more direct approach. But since she couldn't hear him, he kept a cautious distance until she noticed him. Hunters could be very dangerous when they were startled.

Shy flopped on his side and tried to look inviting but nonchalant, hoping to tempt her to pet his tummy, and waiting for her to glance up from her book.

It didn't take long before Eileen took the bait. Shy licked her hand in reciprocation. It was nice having someone new around to give him affection. At first he had been worried that his family would give their attention to her instead of him, but Eileen seemed to like having Shy around, so it all worked out OK.

Shy was blissfully enjoying the feeling of his fur being stroked when Sam came over with his laptop. Apparently he had found a case. He was always doing that. Why couldn't Sam just enjoy a nice lazy day lounging around the house without dragging everyone off to hunt some rogue hellhound?!

--

Sam and Dean were leaning over Baby's trunk, rooting around in the arsenal. Shy thought Eileen was probably lucky she couldn't hear their argument about whose fault it was that they were out of holy oil.

"When you use something up you're supposed to get more. Ugh, this is like the shampoo incident all over again."

"Oh right, like I can just add it to the grocery list. Beer, ground beef, holy oil, coffee..."

"Don't be ridiculous, Dean. Whatever, we already have two pairs of hellhound glasses. Eileen can just use mine."

Shy felt the trunk slam shut and both Winchesters climbed into the car.

"What is this, take your cat to work day?" Dean scowled at Shy, who had taken up residence in the backseat with Eileen.

"I like his company," Eileen said. "Cats don't expect you to carry on a conversation with them."

No one had anything to say to that, so Shy got to stay. He was liking Eileen more and more.

--

Shy needed to protect his family. Apparently they couldn't even see hellhounds without special glasses, and there weren't enough of those to go around. So Shy pretended he didn't understand what "Stay in the car, Shy" meant, and wriggled out of the window they left cracked open for air.

Shy had nearly caught up to them when a low growling made his hair stand on end. He ran a little faster, and yes, there was his family, and right next to them was...

Oh no. Oh hell no. This was the scariest dog Shy had ever seen. It was all teeth and claws and shadow and Shy wanted to be nowhere near this hound of Hell.

But then the hellhound pounced on Eileen, knocking her to the ground. Her too-big glasses flew off, so when she blindly swung her blade it only hit empty air. Sam dove for the glasses, but the hound intercepted him and slammed him into a tree.

That does it, Shy decided, as he heard Dean yell his brother's name. If this stupid dog wanted to be a black mass of teeth and fury, two could play at that game. Shy launched himself at the monster, hissing and yowling. He landed on the beast's back and dug his claws in, biting whatever he could reach. Shy ripped out a good chunk of the animal's fur. But it wasn't enough. Strong jaws wrapped around Shy's body and sharp teeth punctured his skin. Shy thrashed wildly. Dean used the distraction to gut the hellhound with his knife.

Shy struggled to get free, which only made the bleeding worse. Dean pried the dead hellhound's mouth open and lifted Shy out. Shy felt someone wrap him in flannel, and then everything went dark.

--

Shy woke up to the sound of Sam's voice. "Told the vet he was attacked by a dog," he said. "She had to give him a ton of stitches. I think Shy was going for the Winchester record."

Shy's head felt kind of heavy. He could tell there was something encircling him, but it felt very different than the flannel had.

"Heh heh, he has a cone of shame," Dean laughed.

Shy wasn't sure what a cone of shame was, but it sounded humiliating. This stupid cone wouldn't even let him hide his face, so he just hung his head sadly. Why couldn't something good happen to him?

Eileen shoved her face into the cone and pressed a kiss on top of Shy's head. "Thank you," she signed.

OK, so maybe something good did happen after all.

Chapter Text

Shy's home was big. It had a labyrinth of long hallways perfect for racing down at 2 AM. It had a plethora of rooms—more than his family could fully utilize—filled with gizmos and gadgets galore.

Since there were no Men of Letters left to teach them about the resources the bunker contained, Shy's family had decided to go through it and catalog its contents. Sam and Eileen were creating a digital card catalog for the vast library in an effort to organize all the books, journals, letters, and reports. Meanwhile Dean and Cas were sorting through all the various objects, from weapons to spell ingredients to ancient artifacts, to create lists of the items stored in each room of the veritable museum of hunting. 

Shy hopped up on a shelf. It was stocked with glass jars and beakers just begging to demonstrate Newton's law of gravity. One container held a colorful liquid Shy was sure would look neat splattered on the floor. He placed a fuzzy paw on the glass and started to nudge it toward the edge of the shelf. 

"No, Shy!" Dean yelled. "The last time we broke a jar in here, a wicked witch came out."

Now Shy really wanted to see what would happen! He pressed his toe beans against the cool glass and nudged a little more until suddenly the jar was whisked away over the edge. But instead of going down, it went up. Weird. Oh. That’s because Dean had plucked it from the shelf and was holding it out of Shy’s reach. 

“This is not a toy!” he admonished. 

Everything is a toy if you try hard enough, Shy thought. 

Dean bent down to tuck the jar on a lower shelf. “Hey, what’s this?” He pulled out a large case and blew the dust off it. “A guitar! Now this is something that’s meant to be played with!” He flipped the latches and lifted the lid to admire the instrument. 

“I’ll add it to the inventory,” Cas said, his pen hovering over his notepad. 

“No way, man. Finders keepers.” Dean grinned. “This baby will look great in my room.”

...

Dean settled down on the couch next to Eileen and adjusted the guitar. 

“Man, I haven’t played guitar for a girl since I was a teenager. Back then I wanted to be a rockstar. ‘Course I also just wanted an excuse to spend time with the cute guitar teacher. First girl I ever kissed.” Dean smiled fondly. “Anyway, go ahead and place your hand here so you can feel the vibrations.”

Eileen touched the guitar and Dean began strumming. 

Shy took advantage of the empty guitar case and climbed into the velvet-lined box for a cozy snooze. 

Suddenly the lid fell down and Shy went from feeling safe in an enclosed space to feeling trapped with no way out. The air began to close in, smothering, suffocating, squeezing him in its icy grip. Shy desperately clawed and meowed as loud as he could, though the sound was muffled inside the case and drowned out by the music. 

Shy was close to passing out when he heard the latches pop open. The lid of his coffin lifted, revealing his rescuer. 

“Shy? How did you get in there?” Dean scooped him out with a firm grasp around his tummy, and placed the guitar in the space Shy had just vacated. 

Man, that was stressful. Now Shy really needed a nap to recover from his nap!

...

Dean was complaining about the quality of horror movies that cropped up every October, not to mention what Hollywood passes off as vampires. "Vampires don't sparkle, Sam. And don't even get me started on Vampire Diaries. I wish it was real just so we could roll into town and wipe them all out."

“OK, but what does that have to do with the fact that you’re in here watching Ghost?” Sam saw an opportunity to tease his brother. “Being about a ghost doesn’t make it horror. It’s a chick flick.”

“Hey, Swayze gets a pass. You know that.” Dean stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth and kept talking around it. “Besides, Cas hasn’t seen it before.”

"Dean is showing me the 'classics,'" Cas said, doing air quotes. "We are watching The Sixth Sense next, if you wish to join us."

Nothing made Shy happier than when his family watched movies. They all stayed in one spot for hours on end. It was a prime lap-sitting opportunity! Plus, popcorn was often involved, and even if Shy couldn't snag a few of the tasty morsels for himself while no one was looking, he might be lucky enough to get pet with buttery hands and then lick the delicious flavor off his fur.

...

Shy was curled up against Dean as he lounged on his bed, idly strumming and plucking at his guitar. It was colder in Dean's room than usual, so Shy cuddled up close for warmth, even though he was a little wary of being near the guitar ever since the incident the other day. 

“You want some lunch?” Sam asked, suddenly standing in the doorway. “I’m thinking of making grilled cheese.”

“Sure. Put some bacon on mine,” Dean replied. “Hey Sammy, check this out!” He launched into a guitar riff that would make Jimmy Page proud. 

"Wow, Dean, I didn't know you could play like that!" Sam looked impressed. 

"I can't!" Dean was a little freaked out. "That’s not what I meant to play! It was like something was moving my fingers for me. I wasn't in control. Like my hands were on the wheel but someone else was steering."

“You think it could be a cursed object?” Sam asked. “Where did you get it?”

“I dunno, I found it in one of the storerooms.”

Sam sighed. “Why d’you always gotta touch stuff. You’re like a little kid. I'll do some digging to find out what's going on." 

...

“So get this,” Sam said. “I found some info on your guitar in the notes Eileen and I organized. “Apparently it was owned by this black man who was secretly teaching a white boy how to play, back when segregation was a big issue. Folks didn’t like that much. When he died, his soul got anchored to the instrument.”

“You’re saying my guitar is haunted?”

“Yup, pretty much.”

Sam grabbed the instrument and carried it out of the room. 

“Hey, where do you think you’re going with that?” Dean followed after Sam and Shy trailed behind. “What are you doing with that salt? Sam, don’t you dare ... Whoa, whoa, put the lighter down! It’s only a little bit haunted, it’s not really hurting anybod- ... aw man.”

Shy watched as the wooden body of the guitar easily burst into flame and the strings snapped one by one. 

Dean aggressively pointed a finger at his brother. “You owe me a new guitar.”

...

Shy was awoken from his door-watching vigil (it wasn’t a nap, OK, he was just ...  listening with his eyes closed) by the sound of two men wrestling a table through the door and down the steps. 

“Pivot, Dean. You need to pivot!”

“I am pivoting!”

“I still don’t understand why you think I owe you a new guitar and a foosball table,” Sam grumbled. 

“Come on, that yard sale was basically giving this stuff away,” Dean reasoned. “Quit bitchin’ and help me get it inside.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and set the foosball table down on the floor to rest for a moment. 

“Where are we taking this?”

“I’ve got the perfect place. Did you know we have a room with a pool table and a jukebox?”

"OK, let's go get this thing set up so I can crush you at it."

"Oh you are going down!"

"Ha, as if. The only way you're beating me is if this table is haunted by some foosball champion and takes over your body."

"Yeah, well, the only way you're winning is if ... shut up."

Shy hopped down from his chair and followed the boys. He hoped Dean's game was better than his comebacks.