Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural" or any of its characters. Also, the title is taken from Kate Voegele's "It's Only Life." A song that partly inspired this fic.
Author's Note: Takes off from 5.01, spins into AU from there though I may incorporate other S5 elements as they air in the US (I don't read spoilers). I usually play in the Gossip Girl world, so updates on this will likely be infrequent, but it is a story I'm looking forward to writing.
I enjoyed Bela in S3 a lot and I ship Dean/Bela. You've been warned.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy.
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She is not where she was.
This much she knows.
It is all she knows right then; the first thing, the very only thing, she knows in that instant—she is not where she was.
The next thing she knows is that she is cold; her skin prickling all over, she shivers. It's dark she realizes then, nothing but moonlight—moonlight against shadowed trees.
She is sitting on moss and she is wearing no clothing, are her next recognitions. She draws her knees up against her breasts and wraps her arms around herself; tilts her head down against the wind. Her hair falls forward, covers her face, spreads across her knees in soft and thick strands.
Her skin is soft and waxed smooth, she knows; her bare feet sink into the moss.
She's aware she is falling asleep, has no reason not to.
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She can't say what wakes her or how long it's been. Can only say that she is still there, which is not where she had been.
-- and that she must run.
She knows it as surely as she knows nothing else. It is night, she is cold, nude, barefoot, and must run.
The moonlight illuminates the woods around her, gives the trees an oddly sinister, spindly appearance. She pushes past braches and steps on fallen twigs.
Faster.
She doesn't know why but she needs to move faster. Her feet hurt and her breath is ragged and she needs to move faster, has to be there when it comes…
The thought trails away, not really hers at all.
The road appears as if by magic and she can't say how long she's been running, but she spills onto it with the speed of a gazelle—and freezes before the impending headlights in the same way.
There's a sound so loud it hurts her; sends panic spiking through. It's the screeching sound of terror and she cannot draw in a breath; cannot see for the white lights filling her vision.
Voices then.
Anger.
Are you completely insane!?
Confusion.
Are you okay?
And then she is not alone.
"Hey lady! You— holy crap! Are you naked!?"
"I think she's not okay, Dean."
When they approach her, she gasps, fear overwhelming her— it frees her, the fear.
She backs away; hands outstretches, chest heaving with ragged breaths.
They're speaking…
Can't just leave her…
Is she hurt…
The light fades as they walk closer and then there's another gasp; just not from her.
"Is that—"
"It can't be—"
"Bela!?"
The name means nothing to her; but they're coming closer, too close, backing away isn't helping…
"Bela?!"
Her breaths come harder, the panic rising higher, and she turns around.
Runs.
She's not gotten far when arms come around her waist, halt her progress, lift her off the ground; the voices surround her, she kicks and claws, doesn't understand what they're saying.
She's restrained, arms at her side; exhausted, legs dangling weakly over the ground.
She is turned towards the light, blinks against it; a shadow moves in it and then there's a hiss in the air and, "Fuck. It's her."
And she screams.
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