#silverandsalt

[imnotdean]

silver-and-salt || Closed || The Alpha and Beta

*Jensen had walked inside the bar, happy with the surroundings. There weren't a lot of people in the bar, but there were enough. He liked it like that. When it wasn't over crowded but wasn't lonely either. He sat down and ordered a drink then looked around, trying to find someone that looked interesting.*

[professionallytwisted]

+ silver-and-salt

Dean Winchester. Hi.

[perditioner]

i'm sorry but i can't accept any more of those "willing to gamble" things. there just have been and still are loads.

[perditioner]

That's perfectly fine :3

Highschool: Our characters attend a high school together 

[[ for inspiration purposes, I didn’t make this completely AU >.< sorry ]]

    “Okay, Dean. Just remember. You’re not to trust anyone, and you keep that flask on you at all times. Okay?"

    “Yeah, Dad, I’ve got it."

This time at school wasn’t like any other, of course. Sam was in class, innocent, unknowing. Dean was bunking… on his dad’s orders.

    “I’ve found the body. It’s buried in the school grounds, under an old oak tree. Headmaster’s the ghost that’s been pissed off."

And because John Winchester, master of disguise and brilliant hunter, couldn’t get a pass into the school, his son was taking his place. Dean had been given the talk on what to do, how to deal with it, how to salt and burn and how to protect himself in case of an attack. They both could only hope he’d do it right.

But then, out of nowhere, another piece of the puzzle didn’t quite fit the edges Dean still had to fill. A girl. A hunter.

He could tell in the way she acted, the shifty glances and keeping her bag close - but it was the penknife he’d glimpsed, imprinted with sigils, that gave the girl away. And it figured that she’d be going to attack on the same day as him, right? Right.

At the end of recess, he set out in the opposite direction to the mass of children that were entering the building. He instead made his way across the grounds, stopping by the oak tree that his father had described and beginning to dig with the shovel he’d left there before school started. When finished, he stepped back, wiping his forehead of perspiration and admiring his work. Under a half hour to dig the thing… the training was clearly been worth it.

Only then was he thrown across the grass.

Skidding along, rolling several times and jumping to his feet, Dean pulled out the first of many weapons hidden on him - an iron rod. Fumbling for a grip, he turned, searching for the ghost and only being met by an empty field. 

Until, of course, he was thrown back again, flying through the air and bracing himself for the heavy impact that thudded through his bones — the tree bark. Wincing, Dean’s eyes opened, to see a semi-translucent figure in front of him. Her cheekbones prominent, her eyes sunken, flesh hanging off her grotesquely. She was the one Dean was currently supposed to be burning.

But then, as she lifted a hand, as the air left the teenager’s lungs and left him gasping for air, something strange happened. First the girl’s hand began to burn, then her arm, and soon it spread all over her body, engulfing her in flames. Dean wrenched himself away and fell to the ground, panting, looking around to see where it went.

Instead, he saw a crackling fire, tame and kept within the walls of the grave. Beside it, the girl he saw before. She was silhouetted by the flames, her eyes reflecting orange, and she gave Dean a small nod. 

"I… thanks. You really helped me out there," he muttered, watching her. The girl simply shook her head and smiled. 

"It was my plan the whole time," she replied, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “I just thought it would be cooler to let you dig the grave for me."

[flawlesswifieverywhere-blog]

+5 are headed for eternal damnation. Good luck with that.

"Uh, hey — FBI. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble or anything. Just wondering, uh… D’you know where the Pimmy’s Motel is? I’m just meant to meet my, uh, brother there, and my GPS is kinda being a bitch."