Fic: Spirit Animal Tales VI
Spirit Animal Tales VI
For bard2003
By paburke
Summary/Prompt: the boys can’t hunt ghosts anymore; the dragon & griffin take care of them before boys can. ;)
Disclaimer: no money was made in borrowing these characters.
( previously)
~sntl~spn~sntl~spn~
It was the first hunt since Dean had been… diagnosed as a Sentinel. Bobby would deny pacing by the door until his dying day. He made sure to walk to other parts of the house to spread his scent around. He didn’t want Dean picking up his worry. It was just a simple ghost, he told himself. Just a salt-n-burn. Sam probably could have done it solo, but Dean was keeping a closer eye on his brother than ever before. According to Sandburg’s research, it was a sentinel-guide thing. Bobby was pretty sure it was a Winchester thing and Dean was using the sentinel as an excuse. Dean had also reminded them all that Sam had a real job in town and he had to finish the supernatural case before Monday. Sam had applied and had been hired on as an assistant editor for the Sioux Falls Sentinel, a very small local newspaper. Assistant editor was a bit of a misnomer, since Sam was charged with everything from investigative reporting to taking out the trash at the office. The name of the newspaper caused merriment in the household because Sam was always, in one way or another, working on ‘sentinel stuff.’
Since he was up-n-about anyway, Bobby did a load of laundry. It was mostly his clothes, but he still used the baby-safe detergent. Dean had been standing closer to Bobby and Sam recently and initiating contact in the form of messing up Sam’s hair and clapping Bobby on the back. Sandburg had warned that a sentinel needed safe contact to counteract all the strange stimuli and Bobby was not about to let Dean’s ‘safe’ contact cause a skin rash.
Yeah, the ‘safe contact’ was on the list of things that they really hadn’t explained to Dean and he didn’t ask. The boy ignored the e-mails from Sandburg and kept in contact with Ellison. What the other sentinel had written was anyone’s guess. Dean wasn’t sharing but it seemed to help with the sentinel-thing as much as Sandburg’s writings filtered through Sam.
Sam encouraged Dean to accept his new situation, because denying it led to boatloads of pain. Dean hated changing his habits, from eating to showering but change they did. The part that Bobby hadn’t expected was cleanliness. Formerly, Dean was only as clean as his last motel. Oh, Dean was conscious of personal hygiene because that was part of landing babes, but he constantly had a layer of dust or dirt on his clothes and his black boots were nowhere near black as they were caked with mud. The Impala had been the lone exception to the earth Dean carted from one end of the country to the other. Now, Dean scrubbed the kitchen weekly and the bathroom every other day. It wasn’t something that he complained about, just took care of. When it became apparent that this was going to be a habit, Sam and Bobby made sure that there were cleaning solutions (brands suggested by Sandburg) in the house.
Bobby heard the purr of the Impala in his driveway and went to the door to greet the boys. They were home much earlier than expected. He watched the brothers exit the Impala as clean as they had entered it and it worried Bobby. No matter how clean Dean had been lately, even he should be a bit dusty after a tussle with a ghost.
“What happened to the hunt?” he asked. “There was a ghost, right?”
“There was a ghost,” Dean grumbled.
“But?” Bobby turned to Sam since Dean wasn’t going to offer any information.
Sam grinned, all little boy mischievous. “Turns out, there’s a way to get rid of ghosts without digging up the bones and burning them.”
“Oh?”
“If a spirit animal… or two gets a hold of the ghost, it’s toast. We never even found out who the ghost was, let alone found their grave.”
Bobby was a bit stunned but highly amused. “Well then, get your asses in here. It’s almost time for lunch.”
The meal was a quiet affair. Dean’s stomach must have been bothering him, since he popped a potato into the microwave and dug out the locally cured bacon to cook. He also grabbed the glass storage container of an avocado diced. Dean insisted he was fine, but Bobby and Sam knew otherwise. In the month since the Winchester brothers had come to live at the junkyard, Sam and Bobby had perfected their tag-team act to get results.
A fully loaded baked potato would be a good lunch and the smell of it wouldn’t bother Dean. So Sam scrubbed two more potatoes to throw into the microwave and Bobby got out the sour cream, butter, (sea)salt and pepper. Processed dairy would bother Dean’s stomach but not his nose. It’d be safe for the others to enjoy it.
The three men sat around the table and ate. Once Dean had piled bacon and avocado onto his potato, Bobby snatched the glass container a half-second before Sam could. Ellison had suggested the fruit as a sour cream replacement but those without dietary restrictions had learned that the unusual food combination tasted surprisingly good.
“How did the information exchange go?” Bobby asked Sam. The brothers had met up with the other Sentinel before driving to the hunt.
Sam huffed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. Dean threw a grin over his shoulder. “Ellison isn’t too bad,” the older brother said.
“The two of them bonded,” Sam complained. “On how to keep little brothers out of trouble.”
“And by how much trouble little brothers can find,” Dean added.
“I didn’t think Ellison and Sandburg were blood.”
Dean (and Sam) looked at Bobby as if he had suddenly lost fifty IQ points. “Since when does blood have anything to do with family?” Dean asked.
If Bobby didn’t stop this conversation now, he’d start getting misty eyed. “So Sandburg took the books.”
“He only said thank-you fifty-million times,” Dean teased.
“Promised he’d treat them as his own,” Sam answered. “He traded for the Rainier demonology book you wanted. He said that he’d put off the librarians for a couple of months but it has to be returned.” Sam pulled the brown paper bundle out of his bag and Bobby eagerly accepted it. Rainier had a decent supernatural collection but they wouldn’t loan out to non-students, especially out of state non-students. He wasn’t sure (and wasn’t asking) how Sandburg had circumvented that little caveat. Bobby would read this immediately, copy the pertinent information and have it packaged and ready to go the next time there was a hunt in Washington.
“How the hell are you going to tell Ellison about the spirit animals and ghosts?” Bobby asked.
Dean shook his head. “No idea.”
“I think we’re keeping this information to ourselves,” Sam added.
~sntl~spn~sntl~spn~
For bard2003
By paburke
Summary/Prompt: the boys can’t hunt ghosts anymore; the dragon & griffin take care of them before boys can. ;)
Disclaimer: no money was made in borrowing these characters.
( previously)
~sntl~spn~sntl~spn~
It was the first hunt since Dean had been… diagnosed as a Sentinel. Bobby would deny pacing by the door until his dying day. He made sure to walk to other parts of the house to spread his scent around. He didn’t want Dean picking up his worry. It was just a simple ghost, he told himself. Just a salt-n-burn. Sam probably could have done it solo, but Dean was keeping a closer eye on his brother than ever before. According to Sandburg’s research, it was a sentinel-guide thing. Bobby was pretty sure it was a Winchester thing and Dean was using the sentinel as an excuse. Dean had also reminded them all that Sam had a real job in town and he had to finish the supernatural case before Monday. Sam had applied and had been hired on as an assistant editor for the Sioux Falls Sentinel, a very small local newspaper. Assistant editor was a bit of a misnomer, since Sam was charged with everything from investigative reporting to taking out the trash at the office. The name of the newspaper caused merriment in the household because Sam was always, in one way or another, working on ‘sentinel stuff.’
Since he was up-n-about anyway, Bobby did a load of laundry. It was mostly his clothes, but he still used the baby-safe detergent. Dean had been standing closer to Bobby and Sam recently and initiating contact in the form of messing up Sam’s hair and clapping Bobby on the back. Sandburg had warned that a sentinel needed safe contact to counteract all the strange stimuli and Bobby was not about to let Dean’s ‘safe’ contact cause a skin rash.
Yeah, the ‘safe contact’ was on the list of things that they really hadn’t explained to Dean and he didn’t ask. The boy ignored the e-mails from Sandburg and kept in contact with Ellison. What the other sentinel had written was anyone’s guess. Dean wasn’t sharing but it seemed to help with the sentinel-thing as much as Sandburg’s writings filtered through Sam.
Sam encouraged Dean to accept his new situation, because denying it led to boatloads of pain. Dean hated changing his habits, from eating to showering but change they did. The part that Bobby hadn’t expected was cleanliness. Formerly, Dean was only as clean as his last motel. Oh, Dean was conscious of personal hygiene because that was part of landing babes, but he constantly had a layer of dust or dirt on his clothes and his black boots were nowhere near black as they were caked with mud. The Impala had been the lone exception to the earth Dean carted from one end of the country to the other. Now, Dean scrubbed the kitchen weekly and the bathroom every other day. It wasn’t something that he complained about, just took care of. When it became apparent that this was going to be a habit, Sam and Bobby made sure that there were cleaning solutions (brands suggested by Sandburg) in the house.
Bobby heard the purr of the Impala in his driveway and went to the door to greet the boys. They were home much earlier than expected. He watched the brothers exit the Impala as clean as they had entered it and it worried Bobby. No matter how clean Dean had been lately, even he should be a bit dusty after a tussle with a ghost.
“What happened to the hunt?” he asked. “There was a ghost, right?”
“There was a ghost,” Dean grumbled.
“But?” Bobby turned to Sam since Dean wasn’t going to offer any information.
Sam grinned, all little boy mischievous. “Turns out, there’s a way to get rid of ghosts without digging up the bones and burning them.”
“Oh?”
“If a spirit animal… or two gets a hold of the ghost, it’s toast. We never even found out who the ghost was, let alone found their grave.”
Bobby was a bit stunned but highly amused. “Well then, get your asses in here. It’s almost time for lunch.”
The meal was a quiet affair. Dean’s stomach must have been bothering him, since he popped a potato into the microwave and dug out the locally cured bacon to cook. He also grabbed the glass storage container of an avocado diced. Dean insisted he was fine, but Bobby and Sam knew otherwise. In the month since the Winchester brothers had come to live at the junkyard, Sam and Bobby had perfected their tag-team act to get results.
A fully loaded baked potato would be a good lunch and the smell of it wouldn’t bother Dean. So Sam scrubbed two more potatoes to throw into the microwave and Bobby got out the sour cream, butter, (sea)salt and pepper. Processed dairy would bother Dean’s stomach but not his nose. It’d be safe for the others to enjoy it.
The three men sat around the table and ate. Once Dean had piled bacon and avocado onto his potato, Bobby snatched the glass container a half-second before Sam could. Ellison had suggested the fruit as a sour cream replacement but those without dietary restrictions had learned that the unusual food combination tasted surprisingly good.
“How did the information exchange go?” Bobby asked Sam. The brothers had met up with the other Sentinel before driving to the hunt.
Sam huffed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. Dean threw a grin over his shoulder. “Ellison isn’t too bad,” the older brother said.
“The two of them bonded,” Sam complained. “On how to keep little brothers out of trouble.”
“And by how much trouble little brothers can find,” Dean added.
“I didn’t think Ellison and Sandburg were blood.”
Dean (and Sam) looked at Bobby as if he had suddenly lost fifty IQ points. “Since when does blood have anything to do with family?” Dean asked.
If Bobby didn’t stop this conversation now, he’d start getting misty eyed. “So Sandburg took the books.”
“He only said thank-you fifty-million times,” Dean teased.
“Promised he’d treat them as his own,” Sam answered. “He traded for the Rainier demonology book you wanted. He said that he’d put off the librarians for a couple of months but it has to be returned.” Sam pulled the brown paper bundle out of his bag and Bobby eagerly accepted it. Rainier had a decent supernatural collection but they wouldn’t loan out to non-students, especially out of state non-students. He wasn’t sure (and wasn’t asking) how Sandburg had circumvented that little caveat. Bobby would read this immediately, copy the pertinent information and have it packaged and ready to go the next time there was a hunt in Washington.
“How the hell are you going to tell Ellison about the spirit animals and ghosts?” Bobby asked.
Dean shook his head. “No idea.”
“I think we’re keeping this information to ourselves,” Sam added.
~sntl~spn~sntl~spn~