WELCOME

[GABRIEL ALEXANDER]

I feel diseased, is there no sympathy?
I'm safe in here from the world outside.
So tell me, what's the price to pay for glory?
What it is to burn...

=====-=====-=====

Getting out of school was the freshman's top priority the second that bell rang. It was even better if he got out before any of the bullies could get a hold of him. He should have been able to protect himself. Only an early teenager, one of the youngest in his class, and he was as tall as boys with a couple years of growth more than he had. While he was tall, Gabriel was a rail, thin with broad shoulders which made him look and feel awkward. It was part of what attracted bullies to him. Another part happened to be the rest of his appearance. His blond hair was a bit on the frizzy side, the cut un-even as it had always been. He was surprised that it hadn't gotten worse as the woman who cut his hair got increasingly more blind. It kind of scared him that he still had to let her put sharp objects close to his head, especially when she had to get other nuns to give their opinions on how even it was.

Further more, his clothes didn't fit at all properly. The long-sleeved shit he wore was one of a priest's, the collar tucked under to make it look more like just a plain, black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to hide the fact that they were too long. His pants, as always, were a bit too short and just a little too lose, the fabric bunched up under a belt that had seen better days. His shoes were starting to fall apart, having been obviously used none-too-gently before he got them. Nothing he owned was really 'new'. Most of it happened to be from donations through he church that he had spent his whole life in. You'd think one of the families would have had a boy that had been roughly the same size as Gabriel to pass along clothes that fit better, but nope. All the good hand-me-downs were kept in families. Poor Gabe got stuck with the things that no one else wanted anymore at all.

The second he got to his locker, his hopes of an easy escape deflated. There in what he was going to guess was lipstick was 'FREAK' written in big, bold letters on his locker door. He felt like melting into the floor and dying. He gingerly opened the locker, grabbed what he needed and tried to get out again, head bowed. As always, he walked alone, back pack carrying most all of his books. In his hand he clutched a little baggie with left over chicken from lunch and a carton with just a bit of milk.

"Hey, look! It's the freak. Did you like my artwork?" The senior rounded on him, sneering. He automatically backed up, lips sealed tightly. He wasn't going to say a word. It went quicker if he just kept quiet. The girl shoved him as hard as she could, knocking him back into a trashcan. He was just happy it didn't fall over. Hell, he hardly noticed when she shot another, disdainful 'freak' at him. No. He slid quietly away, darting outside and jogging to the bleachers at the track field. He got looks from the kids that hung out there to smoke. He didn't care about those any more than that last 'freak'. What they murmured about him didn't matter, nor did the fact that getting shoved had resulted in a few of his supplies falling out of a new hole in his backpack. He had been losing things all day and had yet to really realize it. He was leaving a trail behind him.

"Psst. Here, kitty. I brought food for you today..." He called softly as he stumbled in under the bleachers to sit down. At the call, a scrawny little cat poked her head out, inspecting before slinking towards him. A soft smile grew on Gabriel's face as he set out the chicken and milk he had for her. The stray happily helped herself while he cautiously reached to check her belly. "I guess I better bring a blanket and box next time, huh, Momma?"

He teased the cat, not expecting an answer. He never did. Most of the time, he sat alone and in the back, forgotten.

"Got a new kid in class today... not sitting all alone in the back anymore." He informed the creature, one of his very few friends. He proceeded to murmur to her about his day, watching as she finished up the food and licked her chops.

=====-=====-=====

Complete? Yes!
Tag? Open~

[STABINAE]

' Shadow days come to haunt me here
To wrap around me
Dark and cold to hide the sunlight from my eyes... '

---

Getting out of school was not exactly top priority to her, though in hindsight it probably should have been. Most human teenagers with any sense fled the scene like demons out of Hell as soon as they heard the last bell ring.
However, she was not a human teenager.
Not exactly.

She had been bored, without a long-term host. The host she was currently possessing was an eighteen year old girl - similar to that of the host she'd take when she became Emily Crowe; black hair, slightly sallow skin, relatively petite - who'd been raped, stabbed and left for dead on the side of the road; easy pickings, as well as no worry that the host was going to wake up and remember anything once she left it.
She. Stabinae. The Rogue's current human alias was Serena Murphy, but that name was just a name. It meant nothing to her, unlike her Title which was to be guarded, tooth and nail.

But back to the initial topic. ' Serena ' was the new kid - the latest one, anyway - and, as a result, did not have any friends. Well, even if she'd been here, ' experiencing this element of human society ', all year, she still probably wouldn't have any friends. Shackinjira didn't tend to make friends, after all; not that such a trivial thing was of any importance to Stabinae, anyway. She had come here to observe, experience. She had come here to learn.

So far, the shackinjira wasn't impressed. Perhaps an undercurrent of Intimidation had come through with her irritation, because for the whole day no one had yet dared to trip her up, or grope her host, or do any of those undesirable behaviours that were so commonly acted on other, weaker forms of ' prey '. Stabinae was not prey, and despite her short stature and relatively low rank in the school her body language showed that. As she walked through the rapidly emptying halls unmolested, it was a simple task of taking books out of her locker, putting some back, ignoring the love note stuffed through the grate - almost certainly a prank, and even if it wasn't the shackinjira had no intention of responding to it - and turning to observe what could only be interpereted as bullying.

The other ' new kid ', no longer new due to her arrival, had clearly still not been accepted into the hierarchy yet and was being harassed by a female senior. Stabinae closed her locker, secured it, ignoring the use of ' freak ' - really? that was the best insult the senior could come up with for the tall, lanky charity case? Must be another unintelligent bigot, then - and the sound of the preyed-upon being shoved into a nearby trashcan.
Fortunately said trashcan remained in an upright position, and the preyed-upon kid was able to make a hasty escape. A few things fell out of the holes in his rather patchy-looking bag as he ran, the senior yelling a few more unimaginative obscenities before turning away. The senior saw Stabinae, and smirked; her body language told the shackinjira that the older girl assumed she'd stumbled across another potential victim. Stabinae wasn't having any of it, however. Giving the senior a long, cool you don't want to mess with me look - and perhaps just a slight, dilute amount of Intimidation to back up her cause - Stabinae threw her bag over one shoulder.
" You're an idiot. "

The shackinjira informed the bully matter-of-factly as she strode past, and didn't glance back even as the outraged senior made to pursue her. The hand that made the mistake of grabbing her shoulder was given a dislocated finger, though.
Okay, fine. A broken finger. Regardless, it was a clear message for even the balatro to get. Stabinae followed the trail of fallen items; a couple of sheets of paper, some stationary, a small notepad and other miscellanous items. She casually picked them up as she walked, ignored the kids giving themselves lung cancer by the track field, and headed over to the bleachers. She didn't need the trail of stuff to inform her that the preyed-upon was there; she could smell his scent.
It wasn't human.

As soon as her dark burgundy eyes located him - feeding a pregnant cat and telling her about his day - in the semi-darkness, without the distraction of other scents and shapes to surround him, the shackinjira recognised the 'aura' that hung quietly around his lanky frame as if ashamed of its existence.
A Nephilim.

Interesting.

" Your bag's falling apart, " she stated, stepping forward to drop the teen's supplies by his kneeling frame - gently, so as not to frighten the cat; silly, really, seeing as the cat arched its back and hissed upon smelling her sulferous demonic scent - before moving back, folding her arms and regarding him with calm skepticism. " You should get it fixed, or get a new one, otherwise you'll lose more than what I've just picked up and you'll be leaving a trail for whatever impetuous moron who feels like having a go at you. "

[SAMUEL WINCHESTER]

-----i'll take my heart back
AND SET THE PEOPLE FREE------------
• • • • • • • • • • •
tag`Gabe and Stabinae • music`the classic crime • notes`just helping a fellow student in need
TEMPLATE CREDIT`DEADPOOL AT CAUTION 2.0 <3

Sam was at his locker as the commotion started. He sighed as he turned his head to see who the victim was this time around. He hated seeing others getting picked on like that. He was picked on occasionally, but almost everyone knew he was Dean Winchester's little brother at this point and not to mess with him or else. But that didn't stop a few of the bullies. Sam had been lucky that day. No one had bothered him yet. He watched, a saddened sympathetic look on his face as the senior girl shoved a guy bigger than him into a trash bin. What a bitch. He thought to himself. No one deserved that.

Sam closed his locker and zipped up his bag. He had planned on helping the kid, but when he turned back around, the kid being picked on was gone. Sam saw a girl following his trail of supplies he had left behind. Sam sighed and decided to follow them in the least awkward way possible. He didn't want to look like a creeper. He had recognized the boy who was being shoved around from one of his classes. Sam had sat in the back with him all week. Neither said much as they were both shy. Maybe this would be a good chance to make a new friend. Lord knows they both need someone to look out after them. Sure Sam had Dean, but it wasn't like big brother was there constantly.

He slowly walked up to the bleachers where the girl stood talking to Gabe. She had beaten Sam to him. Sam didn't know what it was, but something about this new girl made him tense up whenever she looked his way or was around. Kind of like how a demon made him felt... He pushed the thought aside. He remembered the boys name was Gabriel from when the teacher took roll call before class. "Gabe?" He called out, hoping he wasn't interrupting the two of them. "You alright? I saw what happened back there. You really shouldn't let that brat push you around like that." He smirked a sympathetic smile at him. A grin appeared on his face as he noticed the reason why Gabe had ventured over to this particular spot. He had been feeding a pregnant cat. Sam had always been fond of animals. He returned his gaze to Gabe and then to the girl. He had seen her in the halls once or twice within the past week. He didn't recall seeing her in any of his classes though

I'LL LEAVE THE DEAD TO DIE
and take what's coming with me

[GABRIEL ALEXANDER]

Ashamed was certainly a word that could be fitted to the nephilim for he certainly was ashamed of his existance. He didn't have the slightest idea of what he was, of what his father had been. The boy was oblivious to what made him so very different from all of his classmates other than his appearance and his lack of family. While he didn't see what set him so far apart from everyone else, everyone else seemed to. He was ashamed of the differences he could see. Of his clothes. Of his hair cut. Of his old shoes. If only he had been aware of the differences that couldn't be seen, aware of what he was capable of. Maybe then he would have stood up for himself.

As it was, he just meekly accepted his beattings. The ones he got in high school weren't quite as bad as the ones he had taken in elementary school. There were no signs left from the damage he had received to his face after taking a rock to the face in the second grade. The baby teeth he lost had been replaced by adult teeth, and the other injuries had healed without scarring.

The cat reacted to the presence before Gabriel had even been aware of it. At first, he had thought that the cat was hissing at him which caused him to quickly withdraw his hand, look of hurt crossing his face. He was about to speak to the cat, inform her that she was still his best friend, but the being that the cat was actually hissing at interrupted. It almost made Gabe jump as he expected it to be another one of his tormentors. For a second he gawked at her rather like a fish. Then his eyes went down to his supplies, pale cheeks tinging pink with embarassment. He quickly shrugged off his bag and moved to inspect it, finding a seam in the bottom ripped out. If that just wasn't the cherry ontop of his wonderful day. He almost looked ready to cry for a moment. How many things had he lost through the day without even realizing it? It looked like he was carrying his bag home in his arms to hold it together and then giving it the same ducttape treatment as his stack of old folders and broken pens.

"Thanks. I'll... try and fix it." He nodded to her before his attention was grabbed by someone else. He looked back, brows raised up a bit curiously. Someone actually called his name? That was a bit of a new one. The only people who called him 'Gabe' usually didn't notice him unless he accidentally bumped into them. They certainly didn't go out of their way to talk to him. He gave a slight attempt at a smile to Sam, recognizing him from some of his classes and from a few altercations in the halls. At least Sam had a brother to look after him. Poor Gabe was all on his own. "Hi, Sam. I'm alright. Can't do anything to stop her, can I? S'posed to 'turn the other cheek'." He sighed heavily at this, one of the things that the church had drilled into his head, the idea that he couldn't fight back. He had to forgive and move on. He didn't forgive, he tried, but he couldn't. He didn't fight back though. He let the bullies push him around. His fingers gently soothed the cat before she decided to high-tail it out of there, disappearing back into her hiding spot.

With the cat gone, Gabe attempted to stand up. Alas. Boys who are constantly growing have problems with the location of somethings, either over estimating their distance above, or under-estimating their own height. He didn't get far before he knocked his head back against one of the metal support rods of the stands, causing himself to see stars. He went back down on his ass, looking a bit dazed, hand going to his aching skull while he looked up at the metal pole as if it were a person that had been nice and then suddenly decided to strike him out of the blue. "Owww...."



Complete!? Yes
Tag!? Stabinae and Sammich!
Music of the moment? "Let 'Em In" - Paul McCartney/Wings
Notes!? Owwwwwwwwww. Poor Gabey.

[STABINAE]

Let's burn it closer, closer now,
I want to feel the heat.
Dancing too close to the fire
But I won't get burned.
Not like you.

---

"Thanks. I'll... try and fix it."
Stabinae's lips twitched; a flicker of a wry smile.
" That would be wise. I won't always be available to act as your personal Lost and Found center. "

Though the words were sharp, the tone lacked any negativity. Stabinae was completely neutral; she observed, deduced, but didn't judge. There was no point in becoming yet another thorn in the destitute pup's side. Contrary to popular belief the shackinjira was not a sadist, nor was she a psychopath. If she chose a victim, it was usually due to a personal matter that needed to be... resolved. Otherwise, she simply saw no need in getting her hands dirty. Killing was more work than fun these days, especially when keeping a low profile was required in order to maintain a preferred routine of existence.

One a more relevant note, the cat was the only one wise enough to flee the scene. The tall, gangly nephilim was still embarressed, quiet and melancholy with his harassment - and no doubt many previous harassments - still fresh in his mind. His reluctance to assert himself was crippling him; the shackinjira deduced and concluded this train of thought in the space of a few milliseconds, so reflexive was her analytical abilities, and then shifted her burgundy gaze to the newcomer.
"You alright? I saw what happened back there. You really shouldn't let that brat push you around like that."

Also quiet; a negotiator first, but with more fire to him than ' Gabe '. Secure in his own skin, too, by the way he stood; not one hundred percent comfortable with her presence, either. He'd positioned himself at a slight angle, enough to keep her in his peripheral vision, and had unconsciously come to stand between her and the nephilim. Wary, though not sure why. Most likely following a gut instinct, rather than any actual evidence against her supposed humanity.

He wasn't in any of her classes, with the exception of chemistry; she matched the name ' Sam ' to the face because of that. She'd already heard of the name ' Winchester '; the boy's father was a hunter, and as far as the shackinjira could tell so was his older brother. That made this ' Sam ' and his life very much a subject worth keeping an eye on. Stabinae didn't feel in the mood for getting shot at in the near future.

"Hi, Sam. I'm alright. Can't do anything to stop her, can I? S'posed to 'turn the other cheek'.
Pah. No wonder he was preyed upon. She watched, unsympathetic, as he stood and cracked his head against a metal support rod. As he went back down again, she spoke up.
" Idiot. That's the exact frame of mind that will turn you into the ideal punching bag. " She narrowed her eyes, briefly calculative, before adding.
" Fighting back may not be your cup of tea, but playing as a unresistant dummy is going to get you killed. Get some friends, and grow a set. No guts, no glory. "

She moved to turn around, with the intention of leaving - all the while keeping Sam in her far-superior range of vision - then paused, and sighed with exasperation. There, on the other side of the field ( too far for the boys' eyes to pick up, but not her own ) was that insufferable senior with a delightful pair of idiotic henchmen at her heels. Time for round two, then. Maybe she'd break a couple more fingers... or a nose... or a neck.
No, too much trouble. Fingers/nose it was, then; unless they could be ' pursuaded ' to back off.
" You're an enemy to yourself; I've never seen anything quite like it. Now, get up with a bit more care; that's a blow worthy of a trip to the nurse's office. You, " she nodded at Sam, " can stop him from trying to go through any other inanimate objects. I have a senior to scar for life, seeing as she doesn't seem to have dealt with my message to keep her hands to herself very well. She's coming this way right now," Stabinae casually pointed the trio out; they were now close enough to be registered by the human eye, " with some buddies, so I strongly suggest you get a move on. "

Why did she care, you might ask? Well, you see, Stabinae was a sociopath. I high-functioning demonic sociopath, but a sociopath nonetheless. Ergo, she didn't care. She didn't even empathise. It was just that society's version of morality had been learned and analysed long ago, and, suffering from a current lack of stimulation, the shackinjira had decided to embrace the opportunity to exercise the concept of giving a crap.

Furthermore, it allowed her to keep an eye on the hunting family's boy, the nephilim, as well as act on her contempt of bullies - cowards at heart, all of them; terrified of losing control - by broadcasting a much-needed message, loud and clear, on exactly why it was a very bad idea to mess with her.