They met at a dog park.
Which is weird in and of itself because a) Dean hates driving dogs in his baby; b) it’s not even his dog; and c) He’s still pissed at Sam for skipping out on him and their dad only to come back with a dog sized golden retriever he named Bones of all things. Jesus, Sam, you’d think you’re have a little more imagination considering you hid from one of the best damn trackers for two weeks only to name a dog after something we see every day.
Dean sighed to himself. All that and he still has somehow found himself on pooch duty in some dog park in the middle of Illinois of all things.
“He is limping.” Dean turned to the sound of a gruff voice coming from right behind in.
“Yeah well, he’s old.” His comeback was coming out before he got a good look at the guy he was talking to.