Notes: This is my first story! Thanks to LilyBolt for hearing my idea and encouraging me to post it. I hope to continue this story for a long time. Now, I'm still new to all of this, so feel free to message me with any hints or ideas for the story. I don't have any plans for the Winchesters to be part of this, other than by word of mouth, because season 10 has not aired. As this takes place in modern day, give or take a few months, I have no plans in the near future of incorporating them (though I'll almost certainly slip in some references as this is a fic about the hunting world as a whole!) This chapter takes place A year before the rest of the story. Enjoy!
Ben walks in front me, gripping the handle of the shotgun tightly. It feels weird to see him carrying a gun in our school, but I try to shake off the sentiment. I tread carefully, knowing the security cameras can see us, not wanting to be needlessly loud or fast. Hopefully we won't get caught - maybe they don't check the cameras every day.
We stop near one of the offending robots, which whirs a little melody as I watch it focus on us. I grimace as the beady eye, trapped in the black glass bulb, points right at me.
"The door to the fourth floor is probably locked." I mutter, setting down the duffel I'd had slung over my back. Ben unzips it and pulls out a rolled up leather case. It looks suspiciously like one of those thief kits you see on TV. "What is that?" I whisper urgently.
He looks up, a mischievous grin splitting his face. "Lockpicking kit. I got it in a pawn shop right before we moved. Best investment ever." He picks out two of the instruments and tiptoes to the door, testing the knob just in case before slipping the tools into the keyhole.
I begin to doze off, he struggles with the mechanism for so long. We'd snuck into the school before dawn broke, and through a distant window, I see golden light.
"Victory!" Ben says breathlessly as something clicks into place. He turns the knob again, and the door squeaks open. Flinching at the terrible sound, I join him, only to be faced by another obstacle.
Luckily, I'd expected this one. "Come on, Braeden. We gotta climb over." I pick up the duffel again, this time containing Ben's gun.
He's still staring at the precariously piled tables and chairs, but what he doesn't see is the neat succession of desks, connected to maroon and blue chairs, making a tunnel right up the treacherous flight.
Ben nods speechlessly, spotting me as I clamber on top of the first desk. I'm already halfway through the trundling journey when he finally jumps onto the desk, his short height making it a bit harder than it had been for me. For once, I'm glad I'm average height, though a good 5 or six more inches wouldn't have hurt.
I reach the top, where another set of double doors awaits me. I don't bother to check the handles, instead waiting for Ben to join me. My heart is pounding so loudly I'm sure the cameras on the flight below can hear it and are calling the police right now.
"Ready?" I ask quietly, my hands shaking as I hand him the shotgun and arm myself with a flashlight and three cans of rock salt–one in my hand, and another in each pocket of my hoodie.
Nodding at me, Ben reaches forward and turns the knob. It snaps off in his hand, and I'm about to start panicking when the door is whammed open.
On the edge of terror, we glance at each other, and he leads us in. My eyes flit to every shadow. Some look suspicious, but then I remember that the windows up here are caked in grime. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I realize there's a constant ringing sound in my right ear, a humming in my left.
An old classroom door bangs open to our right, a cloud of dust surrounding us. Coughing wildly, Ben pulls his shirt up and over his nose. I zip my hoodie up completely, letting the normally flat collar cover my nostrils.
The survey of the room apparently goes well, as mere seconds later we're continuing down the hall. I begin to notice that it's similarly shaped to the ones below—a vague C. There are, of course, less staircases; the only one of the four with access to this floor is the one we came up. I peer into a couple of rooms. The ones on the outside of the hall, where windows would let in light if the dirt wern't so thick, are the same shape. However, I count extra classrooms on the inner sections, most likely due to the lack of stairs.
Our exploring is cut short when a locker, the paint peeling and chipping, slams shut. Several more follow suit, and suddenly we're frantic, running down the hall, and I don't even care as a cobweb hits my face, I just brush it away as best I can and sprint. I nearly run into Ben as he stops.
The humming and ringing are louder than before, combining to form words. No, not words. A name. "MonicaMonicaMonica," they mumble.
The syllables slip from between my shivering lips. "Monica?"
The sounds turn into a screech, and we hit the ground, hands so close to covering our ears but we can't. Ben can't drop his gun and I won't let go of our only light, or the canister, still unopened.
I feel a tap on my back. I'm about to turn and whack at the air with the light when I see Ben's face, and he's mouthing the words "salt circle" at me. I jerk my head up and down in understanding, my lungs bursting and I realize I haven't breathed properly for a good two or three minutes.
Carefully placing the flashlight in between us, I slide open the metal mouth to the salt, then trace a circle around us. It isn't perfect, far from it, but from what Ben's told me, it's not the circle part that matters as the "unbroken line." As long as both ends are connected, we're safe.
I try to give us room to move, and to my surprise, I'm successful; I am crouched near the edge, and Ben has scooted into the middle, flashlight now in his hand as he shines it on my work.
Satisfied that we can't be reached by the angry spirit, I relax enough for my heartbeats to slow. Making sure not to disturb the salt, I put down the container. Ben reaches into the bag and pulls out a little knife, sheathed in a leather holster.
"This is something that hunter I told you about showed me." He says, not bothering to whisper. "I soak it in holy water and salt everyday - hurts like a bitch when you cut a demon, and should dispel a spirit if you use it to disturb their form." He demonstrates, whipping it through the air, and I can just imagine a ghost tended helpless beneath his sweeping arm.
"Thanks," I croak. I grip the blade in my hand. "Do you know how to expel a poltergeist, anyway?"
A blush settles over Ben's face. "No, not really. There were a lot of suggestions on the Internet." He sipped a little water. "Most said something about burning it, but I figured we'd try the slightly safer and less arsonist route of convincing her to stop."
"Of course." I sigh, but I am smiling. He swigs even more water, and I stop him. "Don't drink too much at once."
He seems puzzled by this. "Why not?" He asks. "We brought a dozen. It's enough."
"Yes," I concede, "But that water goes somewhere. And we're trapped in a circle of seasoning." He immediately caps the drink, setting it down. I pull my empty bottle out and continue, "This can hold the, uh, waste."
He is red as a beet as he answers. I huddle in my section of the circle, and we discuss the classwork our teachers had assigned, despite the lack of school. We offer each other help with certain subjects, and contemplate the validity of a rumor that our end-of-course exams will be mailed to us at home, and a more popular gossip that every student would be required to repeat the year.
The discussion has continued for a long time; I don't have a watch, but Ben does, and he reads it. "It's been five hours since we came up here."
"That long?" I am surprised. "Part of me wishes I'd brought my phone."
Ben scoffs. "Yeah, and immediately get caught. GPS, Ella."
I wave the words away, leaning back. I begin to doze off. Without anything to amuse me, I'm restless. My napping is already fitful when Ben shakes my shoulder.
"Ella. Ella, behind you. Look!" I sit up, making sure not to disturb the salt, and turn my head.
I yelp, scrambling back, as best I can within a 3-yard wide circle and on all fours, as my eyes alight on a vague figure sitting just beyond our shelter.
"Monica Gonzalez?" I whisper, pointing at the figure. It nods… she nods. We stare at each other, the bodiless one flickering as her form becomes slowly more distinct. Her shapeless head soon distinguishes itself - this is hair, that is lip, and this is an eye. Within minutes I'm looking at a girl I somewhat recognize.
Never letting my eyes close or leave the specter, I reach into the duffel and pull out a book. It automatically flips to the page I'd studied so many times, the freshmen Es through Hs. Right in the middle, a beautiful black and white portrait is labeled with the name I'd breathed earlier.
Seeing my movement, the spirit, Monica, disappears, fading back into existence several feet back. Her mouth is open, and a vague whirring fills the air.
I point at the photograph, and say, "That's you. They still put you in the yearbook, even though you went missing three-quarters of the way through the year. That's you, Monica." I put down the book, hesitating before I say the next part of my speech.
"The woman we talked to about you, she said you were always sweet, and that you were intelligent. Everyone mourned your loss, and many didn't give up even after the police did."
Monica slips forward again, her hand reaching for me. I mirror her. "Please, stop hurting people. Your sister, your little sister, she's been contacted—your body will be given to her. She'll give you a proper send-off. You are loved, Monica."
A voice, young yet old, soft yet shrill, reverberates through the air. "Giselle?" I nod, my whole body shaking as the ghost considers my words. Relief floods me as Monica stands, the first true movement she's made. I stand with her. My weak legs protest, white noise wrapping around them, but I refuse to collapse as this force in front of me, unaccustomed to any type of physical movement, where I am constantly moving.
"Thank you." Monica's voice hangs in the air around us, and she walks down the hall. An electrification in the air subsides, something I'd not even noticed, and the little hairs all over my body are flat for the first time in a long time.
Satisfied, I do fall, my hands scattering the salt. I brush off Ben's fluttering hands, nodding my head as he asks if I'm okay. Recovering from my first encounter, my first, successful encounter, I crawl over the edge of the line. Ben follows, grabbing our equipment.
He helps me up, and supporting me, guides me through the hall. I stop him, and turn around. "Let's go back."
I pick my way back the way we've come, and finally, find what I've been looking for. I stand in front of the heavy doors, so like the others around the school.
Ben catches up to me, panting, "Another staircase?"
"Not just any staircase. This leads to the roof." I test the handle, and the rusted metal breaks off in my hand. I push the barricade with my shoulder, and as soon as I brush against it, it gives way. The door at the top reacts similarly, but a shiny chain and padlock are joining it to the other door. Ben takes out a lock pick and teases it, and we finally walk onto the roof.
"Why are we here?" Ben asks me. I stare at what's in front of me.
Tilting my head in his direction, I inform him, "There's a rumor about a swimming pool on the roof." Ben breathes a small "oh," and we walk forward together.
Sitting down, I hang my legs into the empty basin, the tiles beneath my feet now gray. Swiping my hand across a patch near me, they show their true color - pale blue. Ben whistles, and I laugh.
"It's real. The swimming pool is real." I observe the rest of my world, more chuckles bubbling from the depths of my heart. Hysteria claims me as I slide down into the dip. "It's real!"
Ben stares at my behavior, shaking his head. He is watching the sun sink below the horizon. "Ella, we've been gone nearly the entire day. We need to leave."
Twirling absently in the deep end, I say giddily, "Let them find us."
Notes: Thanks for reading! Next time on The Outlier, Ella looks back on her hectic year. Please leave a review and follow for more! I'll try to respond to reviews :)