"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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The moment their names became known to her, she gasped. The most well known hunters in the business, and the most hated ones, were in front of her then. They were unknowing, oblivious to the fact that Ebony cursed their existence as soon as her friend was meeting up with a Reaper and walking into the gates of Heaven. They killed her. When Ebony asked Celeste where she was going, she told her that she was helping out a few friends, and without the wino in the cemetery informing her she would've never had known. Despite all of Ebony's protests Celeste left, with the most pitiful of goodbyes.
They looked normal, not puffy eyed or tearing themselves apart, not a speck of remorse on their faces.
It made her furious.
She wept for weeks, screamed at empty space, pulled her hair out. She did everything they didn't, and it infuriated her. They seemed unaffected by her death, whilst her world was turned upside down and set on fire. They managed to stand before her, man handle her, after they killed her friend. How did they not look broken, fragmented, like her? How did their eyes betray no emotion to their, and hers, fallen friend? It made her sick, thinking that they were actually in the same room as Celeste for more than mere seconds.
Their reputation had never been a good one - the Winchester curse hung over all hunters like a deadly smog. Some hunters tried their hardest to stay out of the path of the two boys, praying to a God they had no idea did indeed exist, that they would live their lives without meeting a Winchester. Most made deals with demons, sold their souls, worked with monsters for one thing: the Winchesters. Hunters have all lost someone, and for most of the community their loved one happened to be drinking pals with Sam and Dean. The two boys had more blood on their hands than she had in her entire body, and they didn't even know about half of stains. That's because they're ignorant, a voice whispered in the back of her mind.
"Um, hello?"
"I think she's really out of it Sam, must be stuck in La La Land."
She shook her head, shaking all of the hate and angst from her head and storing it in a box for later. She couldn't let them know how much her hands itched to squeeze the life out of them, savouring the life draining from their eyes. Her mouth ached to scream as many obscenities at them as she could, to tell them everything that she thought of them. Selfish. Inconsiderate. Douche bags. She had an entire list, but she kept them inscribed into her mind for a better time, when the time was right.
"I'm sorry, I'm just so star struck at talking with the Winchesters." She said their last name as though it was gold and happiness and admiration and respect. In fact it was the opposite, and she had to resist the urge not to laugh.
"We're famous?"
"Of course you are!" She smiled and giggled, "All of the hunters tell your tales many times." As a joke, she thought to herself, gluing her mouth closed to prevent the words from slipping from her lips.
