Dean raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right? Salt's a lot easier to come by than trolling around for some ready-made binding powder. It's not exactly like they sell that stuff wholesale."

What kind of hunter was he? Any hunter worth his salt - ha ha, whatever - would just know, he assumed, that salt kept out more than demons and you could pick it up anywhere, any time. And it wasn't like you'd get a lot of weird looks buying it either, so it was inconspicuous to boot. Dean frowned a little at Angel; the fact he knew about binding powder at all screamed "Hunter" of some kind, but how couldn't he have seen salt used? Now, he didn't know how he got into the business. Not everyone was born into it like Sam and him, and it was wasn't out of the question that Chippendale here might've had to self-teach himself about this kinda crap. Maybe he hadn't discovered that yeah, you could use binding powder to juice up a line and throw in stuff like cat's eye shells, but salt was usually good enough to save your ass, especially if you had only a few seconds to lay a line down.

He polished off the turkey, wondering if Angel really knew what he was talking about or if this was all hearsay for him.