"I've been told plenty of times I'm a monster - it's time to prove them wrong. Even the devil knows that's a compliment."
Her friend was one of many to die at the hands of the Winchesters. Another splash of blood on their red stained hands. They di...
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After her promise to Sam, the walk to the motel had been long and awkward. She was quiet the entire time, lips zipped in case something else slipped out, hands thrust into the crowded pits she called pockets, old sweet wrappers rustling and making her heart jolt with each noise that shattered the serenity. Her fingers played with the bullet in her pocket, and she reminded herself to dispose of it somewhere. The cool bullet brought back frenzied memories of the werewolf, and Ebony would be lying if she said that she didn't enjoy replaying them in her head. Her trainers kicked up dirt, splattering brown on the bottomless black.
She wasn't cold, in fact the harder the wind blew at her, the warmer she got. It was like the wind was trying to get her attention, to make her feel anything but the endless pride she felt gathered in every pore of her body. She had scared a Winchester, and that was one step closer to the endgame.
Ebony Walters would kill them.
But before then, she'd make their lives a living Hell. So bad that death would be a mercy.
Her mouth tugged involuntarily to the side, revealing a smirk that shook the calmest sea. The thought of their blood creating a lake in which she would wash in, gave her the feeling of immense pleasure, her emotion evident on her face. How at times she hated how her face betrayed so much, but at the same time was grateful for it's innocence - no one would ever believe the pretty girl would be the one to drive a knife in your gut.
And that's what she was going to do with the Winchesters.
In little to no time, they had finally reached the motel. Sam's shoulders sagged in relief: he couldn't handle the silence any longer, and being in Ebony's presence without wetting himself. Ebony, however, enjoyed the tense hush, as it let her relish in the shadows of her mind, where her most murderous thoughts and ideas lay dormant. They always gave her comfort.
Sam scurried off without even a goodbye, taking long strides with his spindly legs. It amused Ebony that he thought by running off quickly that he would be rid of her. No, she would keep coming, and she would keep attacking until all the defences fell down and all that was left was a broken man.
*
"Sam, she's not safe." Sam knew his eyes rolled again, something they did often when Dean said something.
Sam lent against the wall, crossing his arms behind his head. Yes, Ebony seemed a bit unhinged but that was to be expected so soon after the loss of a loved one. The pain was still too raw for her to comprehend her actions. He knew that others had suffered greater losses and not gone off of their rocker, but Sam didn't allow himself to think about that. "What do you mean 'she's not safe'?"
"She's ten types of crazy!" Dean frowned, taking time out of his pacing to throw his hands up in the air.
