TAINTING GOLD
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.
"Thank you," he drew out slowly, unsure of how to take the compliment.
"What was it like?"
"What was what like?" Sam's eyebrows crinkled.
She leaned onto the table, elbows bringing her intimately close to Sam. Her hair brushed her arms, raising goose pimples. She had a cheeky smile on her face, cloaking the irritated smirk she had to suppress. Curiosity lit up her entire face, disguising the annoyance written in illegible writing on her skin.
"To be normal."
Taken aback, he leaned back, putting distance between them. "It was nice while it lasted. I mean, I had moments where I missed my family but I never once missed the job."
"You didn't even have a tiny bit of longing inside you? Nothing pleaded with you to jump back on the wagon and hunt again?"
"Nope. I was content with my life. My only worries were whether or not I would pass my exams, and if I had enough money to go out the next night."
"Yet you came back to the world of holy water and demons. Why?" Ebony took the hint that Sam didn't want to be near her, so she finally collapsed back into her chair.
He didn't answer for a few minutes. She wondered if she should leave - he was making her yawn. Her feet dropped from the table, and she rose from her seat. Ebony didn't bother tucking the chair back under the table, strolling out of the room. When she reached the door she paused, waiting for Sam to say anything.
No words passed his lips.
"Typical," she muttered, slamming the door behind her. Openly rolling her eyes, she skipped down the corridor, hoping Sam was feeling the signs of regret.
Boredom crept into her bones, infecting her brain. Maybe it's time to play a game, Ebony? Maybe this was a time to strike, like the cobra she was. Her venom would poison those all around her, and she would paralyse them in fear as she slithered down her designated path of destruction.
Smiling, she glanced cautiously behind her, eyes flitting to the vast corridor. Nothing was there. Sure that no one would follow, she snapped her body around, fast paced footsteps leading her to the one place she had wanted to go ever since she lay eyes on the two Winchester boys. Her heart sped up, matching the slap of her bare feet on the cold stone ground.
Ebony stood at the head of the corridor she'd seen Dean disappear down after his eyes drooped and nearly sent him to the land of nightmares at the table. Mouth stretching wider, she zig zagged her way through the hall, bouncing from one door to the other. The doors closed louder each time she didn't find his room, and her jaw got tighter and tighter.
At the door marked eleven, Ebony was prepared to punch a wall. Her fist was clenched, the usual pale tone gone even whiter, and she was jutting her jaw out. She had punched a wall before, and even though she was pretty much oblivious to pain she knew it hurt like a mother. Taking a deep calming breath that did nothing to ease her roaring frustration, she unclenched her hands and pressed a hand on the handle. Frigid metal made goosebumps rise up on her skin, as though they were defending her from the enemy.
Unable to wait any longer, she twisted the handle, a click answering her action. Squeezing her eyes shut, she threw the door open, the wood smacking against the opposite wall. Slowly, she peeled her eyes open, preparing herself for the annoyance of not having the room again. Yet to her shock, she saw exactly what she didn't expect: Deans room.
Huh, that hadn't been too hard, Ebony thought to herself, stepping giddily over the threshold and gently closing the door behind her.
Time to get to know the enemy.
With a spring in her step, Ebony wandered over to the sink next to the door. Dean had touched this, had used this before.
Ebony stroked the edge of the porcelain, casting a glance up at the mirror hanging proudly above the sink on the wall. She hardly recognised the person staring back at her, with her legendary raven hair cut short, so short it just brushed her shoulders. The cut was uneven - wild, chaotic, just like her. Her eyes known for their kind and caring qualities had been turned monstrous under Medusa's gaze, unyielding any emotion hidden in the deep depths. That was a good thing though, because her eyes would betray all the hate she felt, for she hadn't felt pure happiness in a long time. Hollowed cheeks slide down diagonally down her face, carving her beauty with a sharp blade. She was a weapon that had to be handled with great care.
Averting her gaze from her reflection, she turned around and leaned against the sink. She drank in the features of the room, from the bed slumped in the middle, whispering lullaby's of sweet dreams and joyful children. Quilt corners furrowed further into their posts, revealing a blanket with no wrinkles that invited Ebony over with sweet nothings. The pillow leaned obediently against the headboard, begging for it's owner to lay down his head and actually have a good nights rest for once.
She observed the guns hanging on the wall, glowing with honour and satisfaction. Their surfaces all shone, nearly blinding her with the pristine weapons. It seemed he cared more about his guns than Celeste, Ebony thought bitterly. At this, her teeth began to grind together and fire burned in embers in her gut.
Distracting herself from her building fury, she tip toed over to his bedside table, shamelessly routing through the mahogany drawers. Careless, she shoved old wrappers and knives out of the way, searching for the kink in Deans armour. After a minute of rummaging, her hand slid over something that felt fragile. It made a rustling sound as she pulled it out, and when she saw the cover her face curled in disgust.
"Classy," she muttered to herself as she poked the porn magazine underneath all of the rubbish. Wiping her hands on her pants, her elbow knocked over what she thought was an empty can of beer. Liquid poured out of it relentlessly, wetting everything it came into contact with.
"Shit!" She cursed, frantically trying to soak up the alcohol with her sleeve. The wool of her jumper irritated her skin when it dampened, but she didn't care, because she needed to get rid of all of the evidence that she was there. She was patting down the top of the beside table when she saw it: a photo. Curious, she lightly dabbed at the liquid on it, squinting her eyes to see what it was. Down the middle of the picture was cracked, as though Dean had folded it so many times and put it in his pocket to keep close that it's starting to wear away. In it, a blonde woman cradling a baby, cuddling it's head to her chest. The blonde woman cuddled up next to a man who had a smile that held the secrets of a happy life, who was holding what looked like a five year old boy, whose hair shone gold in the sunlight.
Ebony knew it was the Winchester family.
She brushed it to the edge of the table, letting the fragile memory lay lifeless. In her hands, she held the very thing that could make Dean collapse to his knees before her, and beg like the coward he was. She thought about ripping it up now, which wouldn't be that hard to do, but the smiling family made her stop in her tracks. Ebony knew what it was like to lose your family, she'd lost all of hers, and quite frankly she thought Dean was selfish when it came to his brother. He didn't appreciate Sam as much as he could, and that's the flint that made the fire spark. He had friends, but they had to go kill her only one.
Heaving a ragged breath, she slid it carefully on the table. There was no use in destroying it completely for she had already tainted the gold the picture was, blurring the colour together and making their faces forgettable. She turned away, feeling empty and not satisfied. Why was she leaving the job half done when he killed Celeste? He could always get his car fixed, and Cas would one day not be intimidated, but nothing she had done was permanent. What happened to Celeste was permanent. She wanted to make him hurt forever.
Ebony swore to herself she would cause damage, and all she had done was threaten an angel and key a car - Ebony never was mediocre, and this time wasn't going to be an exception.
Spinning on her heel she rushed back to the table, grasping desperately for a lighter. Unable to find one, she jiggled the drawer out, and scavenged through it until she found what she found before: a pack of matches. Bright eyed, she pulled out a match and struck it once, two, three times on the side of the box. The wooden stick burst into life, the flame licking at the edge of the match. Careful to not extinguish the light, Ebony lifted the photo off the desk, indifferent to the fact that the photo tore. Knowing it would be safer, she glanced at the empty trash can and let the captured moment float into the place where unwanted things go to mourn.
She knew the beer would make it even more flammable, and eagerly she tossed the burning match in the bin. The fire eating the whisper of memories was a dull spark compared to the blazing fire in her eyes.