NOT A WINCHESTER

The drive to the bunker was an awkward one - Dean kept sneaking long glances into the rear-view mirror even though the road behind them was empty, his hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel. His forehead was creased with worry and stress - this didn't shock Ebony much, considering the amount of trouble they had to deal with on a daily basis. Now she was going to be included on that long list of problems. It made Ebony beam. His lips were drawn so into his face she expected all of his other facial features to be sucked into the whirlpool, and his green eyes full of memories and nightmares betrayed no emotion, not revealing a single speck of feeling. It was like he was a statue. Sam was asleep, head knocking slightly on the window, legs folded underneath him. It reminded Ebony of when a giraffe sits down, their spindly legs always packed tightly beneath their bodies. Songs from the early 90's and late 80's pulsed through the radio, the rock music vibrating the entire car, the beat of the song harmonising with the roar of the engine. The heating was on, yet did nothing to warm the chill within the battered car that had seen so much, seen so many life changing moments and witnessed the most meaningful soul wrenching times to the things that you think about on a sleepless night, when wondering about the small lights in the darkness that shape you to be the person you are.

Ebony was well aware of everything that was happening in the car, despite the ear buds shoved so deeply into her ears shes impressed that they hadn't disappeared, blasting music that she hadn't updated in years. Which would explain why she was listening to Walking on Sunshine, but then again, she didn't care, since the music was only a ruse, to make them believe she wasn't alert and relatively comfortable. Though it was hard not to bob her head. She had to resist the urge to squirm under Deans hawk like gaze, choosing to stare out of the window to the endless greenery that hid any other colours, constantly demanding attention. 

"Is there something on my face Dean? Or am I just that irresistible?" She asked in a smooth voice, still turned towards the window. 

"You know me, safety first." Dean forced a chuckle, knowing the instant it passed his lips it sounded plastic. 

"That's it though - I don't know you. I don't know your middle name or your favourite food, or what your pet peeves are. I've only heard stories, and in all the tales I've ever been told about you, safety has never been a key feature." She stopped talking, calmly taking out her head phones, and spun around fully to Dean. His hands colouring had turned white, as though an artist had split some white paint on a black background. "It's understandable though; with the adrenaline pumping, seat belts aren't exactly considered a necessity."

He acknowledged her sly remark. Dean only nodded, no longer taking cautious looks in the mirror. His gaze was fixed straight ahead. 

"Was I out of line, Dean? I'm sorry if I was, it's been a long time since I've had small talk with someone, well, normal." She laughed heartily, and looked down nervously into her lap. No better way to play innocent than to pretend as though you're full of light, when in reality, you're exploding darkness. 

"I wouldn't call us normal," Dean squeezed the words out of clenched teeth, adding more pressure to the steering wheel. 

"I meant someone like me: a hunter." 

Ebony's throat burned: bile was creeping up. She said that she was like them. She wasn't a cold blooded killer, she wasn't a rude, ignorant twat, she wasn't a careless man whore, and she definitely wasn't a Winchester. She continued speaking, despite the sour taste, "Us hunters need to stick together. Otherwise we're all screwed."

Dean let out a grunt, and that's when Ebony knew the conversation was over. She may be slightly mad, but she wasn't a fool. If she kept speaking, he may have kicked her out of the car and left her on the side of the road, which wasn't a part of her plan. And the plan was all that mattered. 

She quietly put her head phones back in, letting the hollow words bounce around her ear drums. Ebony wanted the car ride to be over, mainly so she could get a glimpse into how to cause anarchy. Also because she couldn't handle the quiet, for the quiet meant remembering, and she was determined not to cry before the very man who caused her pain. 

*

Her head knocked harshly against the window, yet she was oblivious to the pounding. She was focused on a conversation the two Winchester brothers were having, unaware to her perked up ears. 

"You're still thinking about her?" She rolled her eyes, thinking that Sam was talking about one of Deans conquests. 

"I can't get it out of my head, all of that blood... I've never known someone to bleed that much." Dean shook his head, as though washing the picture out of his mind. "She died alone Sam. In pain. That's a fate I wouldn't wish upon anyone."

Sam said nothing, only tilting his head in acknowledgement. He couldn't think of what to say, and even if he did know what to say, the lump in his throat would kill any words. The death of her had hit them harder than Ebony thought, haunting their restless nights and invading their waking thoughts. No matter what state they were in, they always remembered. 

"The worst part: she shouldn't have been involved. The Winchester curse, as they say. Anyone who even flashes us a smile ends up ten feet under."

"She chose to be involved, you heard her. She was determined to help, determined to have an adventure. Nothing either of us said could've stopped her Dean, all we could do is be there for her and try and support her decision."

Oh, Sam, the voice of reason. He always had a reasonable excuse for everything, Ebony thought bitterly to herself, and she bit her lip non to gently, suppressing the inner words of her mind to become verbal speech. 

"Did you know that she was living with someone before she got pulled into the life? She said that her friend was the Sam to her Frodo, whatever the hell that means, and regretted running out of their apartment with just a meaningless goodbye. Sam, her friend meant everything to her."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Well, lets find her then."

"We can't. She never gave me a name, wanting to keep her sheltered from us. She knew what had happened to other people who crossed us, and didn't want that for her roomie."

"When we get the time Dean, we'll track her down." 

"And tell her what? Hi, we're the people who got your friend killed, oh by the way, I really like how the carpet pulls the room together."

"If we go, you're not saying anything." Sam cracked a small smile, and didn't say another word. Dean looked at him from the corner of his eye worriedly, opening his mouth to speak again then going against it. Instead, Dean used that energy to turn up the volume of the radio, the music silencing the notes emitting from Ebony's headphones. 

She ignored them for the rest of the ride, pretending to be asleep, and eventually, the act became real. 

* 

They arrived at the bunker at last. It had taken several agonising hours but now they were there, standing before the legendary bunker. 

"It doesn't look that impressive," Ebony mused aloud, scanning the hill that surrounded a rusting door. The dirt around it fell on occasion, littering the floor below with flecks of soil, and made the steps leading to the door treacherous to walk down. 

"Don't judge a book by its cover." Dean led the way, twirling his car keys around his fingers as he walked down the steps with ease, practically bouncing his way there. It was more difficult for Ebony, considering the soles of her shoes disobeyed their purpose and made her slip more than once. She made sure to keep a firm grip on the railings, with Sam behind her she didn't want him to try and steady her again - last time her stomach lurched. 

She survived the stairs, and when she reached the door, Dean turned around smugly at her and smirked. "Welcome to the bunker." 

With that said, he threw open the doors. 

Elegance greeted her, and she felt ashamed to have ever thought it would be shabby. Though she did have enough reason to doubt, with the Winchesters taste in motel rooms decorated in mould and suspicious stains. 

"Is that impressive enough for you?" Speechless, Ebony only nodded, and adjusted the bag on her back. The beauty of the place had taken her breath away, and her voice, leaving her to only stare in awe at the sophisticated bunker. It even made her brush off Deans comment, which normally would've been a hard task to complete, but this time, she found it surprisingly easy. 

"I'll take you to your room as Sam whips up some grub. You think you can handle that Sam?"

"Dean, it's making dinner. I've faced more challenging tasks."

Dean began to walk off, leaving behind Ebony who had been glued in place. She was taken aback at how Dean, of all people, wanted to willingly take her somewhere. Since their stare down in the car, they hadn't been on the best of terms. Maybe he was getting more comfortable with her, or he wanted to lure her away from Sam and murder her, and tell Sam it was an accident. Well, if he tried to kill me, he'd find a knife in his gut, thought Ebony as she rushed ahead towards the figure in the distance, slipping the pocketknife from in her bag subtly into her jacket pocket. It sat alongside the bullet. 

He didn't acknowledge her when she puffed at his side, following obediently like a dog. He said nothing, and Ebony fidgeted in discomfort. They took another turn, and Ebony, who had been trying to memorise the route, lost track of where they were. To her, it was a huge maze full of twists and turns designed to confuse the enemy. It confused her. 

Again they took another turn, and her head started to spin. She was never going to find her way around here, and that wasn't good for the plan. She needed to learn, fast. Putting up her facade, she poked Dean nervously, and made her voice as shaky as possible. "Um, um." She stumbled over her words like a drunk, stuttering even harder when Dean stopped and fully faced her. 

"Spit it out." His voice was harsh, uncaring. Exactly as she expected him to be. 

"Are there any maps of this place? I don't want to get lost." Ebony played with her fingers, unable to look Dean in the eye for the fear of him knowing what she was planning. In fear of him seeing past her translucent act and into her real, poisoned being. In fear of him killing her on the spot. In fear of him. She had heard stories, stories where Dean gutted people and still didn't stop, stories where he tortured someone so much that they would fall apart literally. Ebony wasn't sure if they were true, but didn't want to test the fiction to confirm fact. 

"Somewhere, probably. You won't need it because someone will be with you twenty four seven." He shrugged, and walked on, finally coming to a door that had a lock on the outside. 

"Aren't the locks supposed to be on the inside?" 

He repeated his words from before, "Safety first." Dean opened the door, and gestured dramatically for her to enter. Yet she didn't move, stood still, arms folded. "Something wrong?" 

"Nothing, just the fact how you automatically assume I'm some unstable monster who doesn't have the right for privacy." Ebony giggled mentally at the truth of her label. 

"Look, the people watching you? That's for your safety." He said nothing on what she called herself, and that proved her point. 

"Bull shit. It's not for my safety, but yours. You're terrified of the next move I'll make on the chess board, and let me tell you, if you give me some body guards, I will make my chess piece move in the least predictable way possible that even the board will be shocked." 

"Are you threatening me?" 

"No, I'm not. I'm giving you a warning." 

Suddenly, Dean pushed Ebony into the room, and didn't stop pushing until her back was pressed into the wall. He got a fistful of her black top, and shoved her further up the wall. "Well, I'm giving you a warning too." 

"It's a pretty painful one," she puffed out, trying to arrange herself on the wall so her shoulder blades didn't feel as though they were snapping in half. 

"That's the point sweetheart." 

He dropped her, and walked out, slamming the door behind him. She landed on her feet lightly, and rubbed at her upper back. She had every reason to be afraid of Dean Winchester, and he had every reason to be terrified of Ebony Walters.