Spirit Animal Tales IV
By PaBurke
Summary: Dean is a Sentinel and it's not all that easy.
Spoilers: All of Sentinel, Season 4 of Supernatural
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.
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Bobby was worried and tried not to show it. At least the boys were returning to his house. Last Bobby had seen Dean, he was fresh from Hell with that crazy PTSD and fugue states and he had wanted Bobby to leave him in the care of a much too secretive Sam.
When Sam had called, asking for a place to lay low for a while and even promising to tell him everything, Bobby had agreed. Sam was not going to sleep tonight until he answered all of Bobby's questions.
And Bobby had a written list three pages long.
He also didn't care how long Sam had been driving. Sam was going to keep his promise. Bobby was waiting on the porch when the sleek black car parked in its designated spot. The boys were there so often that Bobby had a space cleared for them.
Dean climbed out of the Impala under his own power. That was much better than before but he was dressed in the stupidest white cotton clothes Bobby had ever seen. "Didja join a cult," Bobby asked the boy.
Dean flushed the slightest bit and Sam stepped forward to deflect and defend. His face was harder than it had ever been towards Bobby. Odd, that was normally Dean's reaction. "They don't irritate his skin. His other clothes do," Sam said.
In other words, don't harass Dean to the point that he retreats to his normal looking clothes that would cause him pain and discomfort. Bobby had seen the rashes and welts and the blood streaked skin when the idjit couldn't stop scratching. No, Bobby didn't want Dean to return to his old clothes until whatever was going on was taken care of. "Looks comfortable," Bobby muttered. It was about as close to an apology as Dean was going to get right now. And that reminded Bobby of damn John Winchester and his damned stick-neckness.
Bobby caught Dean's arm as he passed. "Sorry. I'm glad your clothes aren't giving you a problem now."
Dean rolled his eyes. "I heard you the first time. No need for a girl moment."
Bobby snorted and ruffled Dean's hair. They always did understand each other so well.
Dean breathed in through his nose and an interesting look passed over his face. "Must be the 'Jack makin' you weepy."
Bobby blinked. He searched through his mind for the last time he had Jack Daniels. "That was at lunch!" And he had dinner cooking on the stove.
"Is that burgers I smell?" Dean asked. He made a bee-line for the door, dropping his bag in the living room.
Sam and Bobby charged after him. It was good to see Dean interested in food but… "Dean, wait," Sam called. "That's a lot of grease to inflict on your stomach."
Bobby was quick to agree. Dean hadn't been able to keep any food down since his return from Hell. Bobby should have known better than to have burgers on the grill. He hadn't thought that meal through. He had simply cooked Dean's favorite.
"Ahhh, Sammy," Dean whined.
"You can have half a piece a meat with a full bun. That should soak up most of the grease, at least slow down your body's reaction to it."
"Fine."
Bobby understood the acquiescence to mean that Dean's stomach was still bothering him. He finally had the opportunity to ask his questions. "What the hell is going on with you?" he directed at Dean.
Dean had shoved his sandwich into his mouth and pointed at Sam. Bobby dug out his list and slapped it in front of Sam. "What the hell is going on?"
"Dean is a Sentinel," Sam answered. He brushed Bobby's list away and focused on the man instead. "All five of his regular senses plus his sixth sense is enhanced far beyond normal capabilities."
"Like smelling my lunch drink," Bobby filled in.
Sam nodded. "Like knowing where you've been all day by following your trail."
Bobby stared at Dean. "Like a blood hound?"
"Not quite," Sam said. "His nose is maybe half as good as a blood hound, but that's still five times better than a regular human's."
"Sixth sense?" Bobby questioned.
"He'll be able to see the ghosts that most can't and that are still setting off an EMF meter. But it'll take a lot of control so that he can use it and not get sidelined by his senses."
"Okay," Bobby accepted that explanation. "So what happens now?"
Sam ducked his head. "We need a place to stay for a while. To practice using his senses and to figure out his triggers."
"How long?" Bobby had seen the hesitancy in Sam's body language. And Dean set down his sandwich. They were worried that he'd throw them off his property before Dean's body was ready. "You boys are welcome here as long as you need."
"Even if it takes years?" Sam asked. "I'll get a job," he promised hurriedly. "We'll pay rent."
"You boys are welcome," Bobby repeated. "Don't be idjits. The room upstairs belongs to you."
"Thank you," Sam breathed.
Bobby rolled his eyes. "No need to get weepy. Anyway. Sentinels? Like that Washington cop?" Sam shuttered his expression, but Bobby knew that he was right. "Anyway. I've read some things about them. Maybe we can find more information."
Sam perked right up. "Blair would love to get his hands on original sources of Sentinel research. Where are they?"
"In the library. Sit down," he ordered. "They ain't going anywhere. They'll still be there when you're done eating."
"Thanks Bobby," Dean said and Bobby understood that he was thankful for the place to stay and the access to the resources and everything else.
"Don't mention it, boys."
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