"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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Ebony wasn't surprised when Dean and Cas left the bunker with a bag filled to the brim with weapons and rushed goodbyes. Apparently, it was urgent and needed assistance immediately, and no other hunter could take the case. She had said that they could all go along, for having more eyes is always handy, yet her suggestion fell on deaf ears. Sam wasn't impressed with having to babysit - he tried not to show it through his strained smiles and resentful eyes. He too had fought hard to try and get a piece of the action; Dean was adamant that having Sam with Ebony would somehow control her.
That's like trying to tame a fire by adding gasoline.
She didn't protest too much - she didn't want to look suspicious. If she begged on her knees to join them it might look like she was relying on the time that their backs were turned to stab them. Unfortunately for them, she had the guts to stroll up to them and slice their stomach open, all the while looking at her merciless self in their empty mirrors they called eyes. It was all about planning, and she wasn't stupid enough to think that the boys would let her out of her cage so soon after the Impala had been keyed. Despite her fool proof alibi, Dean still believed that it was her that cut into his baby and made her bleed. For such a good looking man, you wouldn't expect him to be as intelligent as he was.
Sighing, she curled up on one of the chairs in the library, resting her head on her knees. She was bored, and when her fingers would drum on the table she reminded herself with each tap how hollow her heart had become. She liked it. The lack of entertainment made Ebony slightly wary, for in these moments she was her most reckless, grasping for a fun time by letting herself get into sticky situations she couldn't quite always talk herself out of. Once, she had gotten into a fight with a group of deadly bikers just because she needed the adrenaline to light a smile onto her face.
Sam huffed, gaze cutting up to Ebony. "Can you cut that out?"
"What?"
"The Doctor Who drumming. You're not the Master." He slammed the book he'd been reading closed, sending a cloud of dust puffing out of it. They both let out rattling coughs, waving the air around them and holding their chests with their other hand.
"Bloody Hell," Ebony wheezed out, pushing her chair back in an attempt to get away from the dust cloud. "For someone who went to Stanford, you surely don't have much common sense."
Sam tensed. "How did you know I went to Stanford?"
"Jeez, take a chill pill. I've heard things; hunters like to gossip. You were quite the talk of the town when you ditched daddy dearest and went in pursuit of a normal life. I give you credit, that was a pretty ballsy move." The dust had made its exit, leaving the slightly flustered woman to conjure up a quick theory as to how she knew everything about them. Reading the books wasn't always the best reason; the author had left parts out and the books had been stopped after Dean went to Hell, so as a fan, a whole seven years of the Winchesters life was a mystery.
