High School Hell
Dean walked into the demonic school house; his short hair stood up and leaned to the left. He spotted his best friend sitting at their usual boney table. When he got there they high-fived, leather slapping against leather.
"Who's he?" Dean asked, shedding his messenger bag as he sat down.
"His name's Castiel." Abaddon said.
"Fresh meat?" Dean asked, checking out the new guy, wondering if he played both sides of the field, or just the one.
"Damn straight." Abaddon replied, "And I think you're in luck, I saw Lucifer flirting with him earlier and all he did was blush, not a look of disgust anywhere on his pretty little face. The only problem is."
"Beating Luci to the punch." They said in unison, right before laughter erupted between the two. Dean wiped a tear from his face when the bell rang, signaling that classes were about to begin'
"Gotta go man." Dean said, holding out his fist, Abaddon bumped it, silver studs clanking together.
"Later Stud!" Abandon said before they parted ways. Upon entering his forensic class, he thought to himself,
"This is going to be a long day."
The day couldn't have finished any earlier. Soon ,after the final bell rang, Dean found himself walking to his dad's impala when he realized that he had forgotten his report card in his Dead Lang. class.
"Shit." He thought, walking back to the school house. "It's not like Dad wouldn't sacrifice me to THE Lucifer if I didn't bring it home." Dean thought sarcastically.
He caught Mr. Crowley just as he was leaving.
"WAIT!" Dean yelled, running to the door.
"Oh, Hello Mr. Winchester. What brings you back after school?" Mr. Crowley asked.
"I… Forgot my… Report card…" Dean huffed.
"Ah. And you parents would sacrifice you if you didn't bring it home?"
"Bingo!" Dean said.
"Well, close the door behind you when you leave." Mr. Crowley said before walking away.
"Thanks!" Dean shouted, entering the classroom. He searched his desk, grateful for having Mr. Crowley as his last class of the day, so he was able to find the pesky, yellow paper quickly. He thought for a moment, strolled over to Mr. Crowley's desk, and looked at next week's test. He then proceeded to take pictures of all the answers with his smart phone, placed to paper back where it was, and left.
He started back to the impala, when he heard something and stopped. When he didn't hear anything he began walking. The noise sounded again, but this time it was closer and he had heard someone yell,
"NO! STOP!"
He stuffed the yellow paper into his back pocket and started to jog to where the cry for help came from.
Dean rounded the corner to see the new guy squished between a brick wall, and a toxic green dumpster. Three chicks stood in front of the new guy, Castiel? They were shoving him and from what Dean could hear, ripping his clothes.
"That's what you get, Freak!"
"Yeah!"
"What makes you think you can just show up and steal MY man?!" One of them demanded. His reply was soft and apparently took too long to come, so they hit him.
"Ladies, ladies! I thought prostitutes had some sort of code that they lived by!" Dean exclaimed, sauntering towards them.
"Its whores like you that ruin the name of hard working professionals." Dean shook his head in a disappointing manner.
"Get lost Fag!" The leader said.
"Yeah Bitch! Get lost!" The other two said together.
"Fine, Fine." Dean replied raising her hands in surrender, turning away.
"Wait!" Castiel said, his voice quiet, quivering in fear. "Help me! Please!"
"We-ll." Dean dragged, turning to face his. His clothes were in stripes, his skin was cut, and his mascara looked like it had just ran a marathon
"It'll cost you a kiss." Dean said, a finger on his chin, an evil glint in his eyes, and a smirk played on his lips.
"Wha-" The guy exclaimed, clearly not expecting that response to his plea.
"Looks like you don't want my help after all." Dean knew he was acting horribly, but hey, he is a demon after all.
"FINE! Fine! Just help me!" He cried.
"Shut up!" One of the goons shouted, punching him in the face.
"HEY! That's my merch you're damaging over there! Very fragile stuff you're tossing around!" Dean yelled.
"Oh yeah? Well, There's three of us, and only one of you, so, what you gonna do? Fag?" The leader asked, stepping forward, flipping her platinum hair over her slender shoulder, her football goons flanking her.
"This is going to be so, much, fun." Dean said, tilting his head, cracking his knuckles. He let loose an evil grin as his eyes turned black.
Max: I doubt that I'll make this into a series, but hey, who the hell knows.
Samantha: Wasn't this story originally meant for something else?
Max: Yeah, for a righting contest. I used my OC's for it though. So here, I just changed some of the names and kept it the same.
Helen: Whatever. Did you win the contest thingy?
Max: IDK. I don't get the results until August.
Helen: Well, that sucks.
Max: Yep.
Samantha: Well, R&R Please!