A/N: Welcome! *throws confetti*
Well this is my first story in...probably over a year. I seriously hope I can get back into writing again, I miss it dearly. This is just a one-short 'cause my mind won't let me think/write any actual chapter stories. But, go easy, I'm pretty rusty, but definitely point out anything that I could work on.
Got this idea from watching Ghostfacers when Dean and Spruce get separated from Harry, Ed, and Maggie.
Dean: "Harry listen to me. There's some salt in my duffle. Make a circle and get inside."
Harry: "Inside your duffle bag?"
Dean: "In the salt you idiot!"
Disclaimer: Not mine, although I just put a picture of both Jensen and Jared up on my wall in my dorm. I don't think that ever implies ownership, but eh.
Summary: They hadn't always known that salt was a form of protection against demons and ghosts. But when nine-year-old Dean hears about this new protection he thinks it's the dumbest thing he's ever heard.
"Dad," Dean stated this with all the seriousness a nine-year-old could muster. "This is stupid." His freckled face was smooth and blank of any lines of a smile or a smirk that would betray his words as less than serious. His eyes were locked on his dad's hands as they moved over the white grainy substance.
When John looked up he noticed how intently his son was watching his fingers' movements. He'd been running his fingers through the potato sack of salt for the past three minutes. After buying an outrageous amount of salt-which gained a lot of stares at the grocery store-he'd dumped them into this sack. It was small enough for John to pick up with ease, but as he stared at his son's small and thin frame he wondered if Dean would be able to carry it. And if the kid couldn't right now, how long would it be before he could?
Turning his back a little more so that he could peer past his oldest to see his five-year-old asleep on the couch. Covered in a multicolored shine that shifted with each frame change of the television, the little boy seemed so peacefully. It made John smile to see his son so at ease with the world, unlike how he and Dean were. They had the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Turning back to his older son, he nodded his head slightly. "I know," he stated, turning back towards the sack of salt. "But it's what Caleb said, and he's been doing this for a long time."
John couldn't really blame his son. This was definitely something that didn't make sense, but ever since Mary was killed, nothing made sense. If salt was going to keep things away from his boys, he was going to make sure it was everywhere. Even if salt didn't work, the boys wouldn't be any less protected than before.
"But," Dean folded his arms as he continued to stare at the sack as if it was offending him. Scowling at it he continued, "We don't know him."
John looked up at his son, "We also don't know what we're doing either." It isn't going to harm them, why is he pushing so hard?
"You've gone on hunts with Pastor Jim. He never used salt," Dean said quickly, his eyes never leaving the salt. He couldn't look at his dad; he knew that John's stare would get him to backdown. Dean knew this was risky. How would salt ever keep supernatural beings away? That didn't make sense. And they both knew it. But Dean was the only one to actually voice the opinion. Listening to some random hunter wasn't a good idea; they didn't even know him nor could they tell if they could trust him. This could end up getting Dean's dad killed and that terrified him.
Although he'd never show that terror. He just kept his stern stare on the salt.
"Well Pastor Jim hasn't gone on as many hunts as Caleb."
"Dean," John snapped, staring straight into Dean's averted eyes. He kept the stare until Dean's eyes flickered towards his. The eye contact lasted seconds before Dean's eyes immediately returned to the salt.
John took this as Dean's defeat and nodded to himself, accepting that Dean would stop arguing. "Why don't you go set up some salt lines by the door?" John offered, waving a hand towards the other cans of salt sitting nearby. He was dismissing his son, but he hoped that Dean would understand that he just needed him to stop arguing and listen to him.
Dean grabbed the full cans of salt that John had left for the apartment and moved to the front door. Leaving his father in the kitchen, he hoped his dad wasn't making a horrible mistake. He couldn't live with another parent dead.
Tears started to threaten to fall, and he roughly threw the back of his hand over his eyes. Letting out soft angry sobs-almost inaudible-Dean started to lay down some lines.
"Make sure Sam won't be able to find them," John yelled across the way, although he made sure he was quiet enough not to wake Sam. He didn't want his five-year-old to see this. Honestly, he never wanted his little boy to see it. He wished he didn't have to drag Dean into it, but he had no choice. He had a choice with Sam, and he was gonna make sure Sam would be as normal as possible.
"Yessir," Dean answered, rolling his eyes, knowing his dad couldn't see his face. After laying down the line in front of the door, he laid a rug over it, trying not to disturb it, but covering it at the same time. "This is so stupid."
A/N: That's it! I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading, and leave a comment if you'd like!