"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 sniffled, and finally Dean took in her puffy eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Ebony loved that word. 'Fine'. It's a word that no longer could be defined in the dictionary, for it's used by lovers, haters, preachers and liars. The human race had twisted it's meaning so much to fit their own selfish needs that it no longer has a meaning that they can understand. She thought it was fitting, in a twisted way.
"You don't sound fine." Dean shuffled closer, staring at her intently. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Ebony chuckled sarcastically. "I'm not exactly the type to talk about my feelings, so excuse me if I pass on that."
"You can be any type, and still be happy. Men, women, goths, geeks, jocks, skaters - they should all be allowed to talk about their feelings and not have their own happiness restricted because of a 'type'. Shit, I think that's the cheesiest thing I've ever said." He shuddered. "So," he leaned back, lying down on the gravel. "What's on your mind?"
"When you're drunk, you sound like a philosopher."
"When you're sober you sound like a pessimist."
"Good, because I am one."
Dean opened his mouth to retort, and then quickly snapped it shut. He hit her in the arm, "stop avoiding the question!"
"Am I not allowed to be sad?"
"No, especially after a goddess of a girl gave you her number." Dean hooked his hands around his neck, cradling it and closed his eyes. "By the way, I never saw that coming."
"No one does." She murmured, staring off into the distance. Dean didn't notice, too busy humming to himself the tune of an AC/DC song she didn't know the name of.
She gulped. She felt like she could tell him anything, and he wouldn't judge her. Anyway, she believed he was so wasted that he wouldn't remember this conversation. Gathering all her courage, she tripped over her words. "I called my sister."
Dean sprang up, eyes wide and alert, all signs of intoxication evaporated off of his face. "You did what?"
Her brows pulled together, all thoughts of him being accepting flying out of her mind. "You're such a hypocrite, you'd do the same if it was Sam."
"No, I wouldn't. I'd leave him be."
"Then how come you pulled him out of Stanford? He was happy, safe, and then you arrive and his girlfriend is getting fried extra crispy on the ceiling and his career in law non existent!"
Dean shook his head, rubbing at his jaw. "That was different."
Ebony's features had become stony, and she tucked her legs into her body. "Enlighten me."
