Settling into the Territory

Sentinel Dean

*spn*sntl*

Running had been suggested by Ellison. He used words like "walking a beat" and getting a feel for the "pulse of the neighborhood." From Sandberg's e-mail to Sammy that he had read from across the room, the Doc called it "The Guardian patrolling his territory." As grandiose as Sandberg's description was, Dean could tolerate it because he reassured Sammy enough to let him run alone. Dean would run for hours and the mother hens back at the junk yard would let him as long as he texted every 40-45 minutes. (Yet another compromise. Dean had wanted none or at least every hour and Sam had been demanding every thirty minutes.)

Dean ran and ran and if he was lucky he'd exhaust himself enough to sleep for four or five hours before nightmares of Hell woke him.

Then Ellison's spirit animal showed up in his dreams and… well, it was easier to sleep knowing that someone else had the watch. Dean hated being beholding to anyone, especially when he had no idea how to pay the man back. Even with Ellison's help, sleep was still easier when he ran.

Dean wasn't idiot enough to run the exact same path every day so it took longer for scents to be matched with faces and heartbeats and finally, names. The boys –the brothers- were the first. They were always out playing on the trails. They were preteens with too much energy and not enough oversight. Still they didn't catch nearly as much trouble as Dean had at that age. First, their scent was all over a fallen tree in the middle of the path. Dean jumped it with no problem and continued on.

Then he thought better of it, turned around and ran back to the tree. Other people might not have the same quick reflexes, and might trip on it. So Dean dragged it off the beaten path. The next time Dean scented the boys, they had been playing in a creek. They had actually significantly dug it deeper in the middle. Dean spaced his feet to get the least bit of water in his shoes and kept on running. Idly, Dean wondered if they were trying to change the environment to get crawdads or something.

The third incident clued Dean in: the boys had filled empty plastic pop bottles with dirt and rocks and completely covered an extended low spot in the trail.

They were trying to prank Ihim/I.

Dean didn't trip on any of the bottles. Those were easy enough to dodge, using his eyesight to spot spaces to run through safely. He did nearly fall to the ground laughing so hard at the attempt. He could hear the boys nearby. Though within hearing distance was up to a mile for Dean these days. Dean pinpointed the boys' location and shook a bottle at the pair of them. The boys responded with groans of disappointment. They had been hoping for a candid camera moment. Dean dropped the bottle on top of the rest of them. He was not going to clean up this shit, it was the boys' duty.

Dean ran home with a grin on his face.

*spn*sntl*

Sam and Dean ran into the boys and the boys' mother at the farmers' market. Sam was bartering with a vendor and Dean was scoping out the goods. There was always too much green food here. He made faces at the Swiss chard just at the same time as a pair of rather familiar boys. The boys recognized Dean and vice versa.

"Good kids you're raisin'," he told their mother. She had just bought some Swiss chard. Dean was so happy that Sam wouldn't dare.

Their mother's jaw dropped. "Are you talking about my boys?"

Dean pointed at the young men in question. He could identify the family unit by scent. "Them."

"Yes," she said slowly. "What did they do that you're calling them good?"

"What do people normally call them?"

"Terrors."

Dean grinned. "Yeah, they're both. They've been pranking me on the running trails and keeping me on my toes."

"They've been doing what?!"

"Don't worry they cleaned up their messes." Dean was pretty sure it was just to reuse the pop bottles in another prank but it was the end result that mattered.

"They did?" she sounded stunned. They probably never cleaned up at home.

"Sure did. Well, I moved the fallen tree off the trail, but that was before I realized it was intentional."

She turned on her sons and Dean could smell her fury. "Trevor and Terrance, apologize now."

"Ah, mom…"

"Apologize. You could have hurt him badly."

"We're sorry we tried to trip you up."

"You tried to trip a runner!" She was furious.

"It wasn't that bad," Dean tried to calm her down, but she had already grabbed both of her sons and was heading for the exit.

"You are grounded. No TV, no video games…" As she left the market and started her car, Dean could hear her list all of the activities that the boys were forbidden.

"That went well," Sam said as he returned with arms full of organic produce.

"I liked them out there," Dean confessed. "It was fun."

"And excellent training for you. I could prank you out there if you want," Sam offered generously.

"You, I'd prank right back, training or no," Dean promised.

*spn*sntl*

Dean heard the engine first. Nothing unusual, lots of odd engines drove up Bobby's driveway. It didn't sound incredibly well maintained as one would expect from a mechanic but it didn't sound about to fall apart either.

Dean could hear Bobby putting down his tools in the barn and walking out to greet the visitor. Then he smelled…

"Pie. Apple pie."

Dean raced down the steps from his bedroom and hurried to the front door. Sure enough the Terrors' mother was standing in Bobby's driveway with a fresh baked apple pie.

"Pie!" Dean crowed. "Let me help you with that," he said as took it out of her hands.

"Be careful, it's hot."

It was rather warm but Dean had no problem turning down the 'touch' dial to something comfortable. That touch dial had been giving Dean problems all week but not right now! "Got it. You can come in. Smells great." It did. It smelled like she only used ingredients from the farmers' market. He wouldn't have any problems with this.

"What's this for?" Bobby asked.

And yeah, Dean knew enough about faries not to be accepting gifts but it smelled so good and it was PIE. Pie he could eat.

"It's a bribe," she said bluntly.

"Sure, I'll change the oil in your car," Dean offered. "Sounds like it's a month overdue."

She looked at him surprised. "It is. How did you know that?" She waved the question away. "Actually it's a bribe for something else."

"Okay?" Dean waited.

"You said that you didn't mind Terry and Trevor pranking you."

"Not at all."

"And you wouldn't mind them continuing?"

"I've missed them this last week," he confessed.

"I've kept them home and they've been driving me crazy."

"Sure, send them my way."

"But other people use those trails too," she worried.

"No one but me uses the Green Mountain trail on Tuesdays and the Beech Trail on Thursdays. Tell them to prank those on those days and they have to clean up by that night." Now that the deal had been decided, Dean dug into the pie. It was just as delicious as it smelled. "So good," he mumbled with his full mouth. Bobby gave him a dirty look.

The mother ignored his bad manners and wrung her hands. "Are you sure?"

"Yep. It'll keep them out of trouble while they're scheming and it keeps me on my toes. What is your name? I keep thinking, the Terrors' Mother in my head." Dean consumed more pie. It was awesome.

She smiled, finally relaxed. "Gwen. Please call me Gwen."

"I'm Dean. And for a pie this good, your boys can prank me all they want."

"Thank you, Dean. I had no idea what they had been up to the last two weeks. At home, they had actually been behaving."

"Sure, let them use up all their creativity on me."

Gwen sighed. "That'll help. Thank you."

Dean popped the last huge bite in his mouth. "Comeon," he mumbled. "While you're here, might as well get the oil changed in your car."

"You don't have to."

"We insist," Bobby added. "I'm sure I have the right oil filter for your car in the barn. Dean'll be done in fifteen minutes."

"I'll bring another pie?"

"Deal," Dean agreed. He trudged out to the car with Gwen and left Bobby inside to eat his own slice of apple pie.

Dean could get used to staying in one place if the pie was always this good.

*spn*sntl*