AN: I've seen and read a few Season 4 AU's with Bela and they were very good, each with their own shared and original ideas. So, naturally, it only made me want to write my own S4 AU, with my own special little twist. I'll also try to add a spin on the standard episodes that aren't mainly affected by my own ideas, but for the most part I'll only be incorporating things with my own changes, to keep from boring you readers with stuff I haven't altered and that you've already watched in the show.
I also want to make it clear that I don't own ANY characters unless stated otherwise. Also, to give further insight into the underlying "revelation" in this fic, I'll probably add some quotes or actually explicitly give the relevant info at the beginning of the relevant chapter. Just a heads up, nothing complicated, I just don't want to lose you guys if it gets to religion-y. OKAY LASTLY, the theme pulls from the Book of the Revelations and although I'm not very religious myself I'll be pulling information from the appropriate parts of the book. With that said, please enjoy and R&R!
They found each other, once.
He showed up at her apartment, a little drunk, at some time around two in the morning. She wasn't sleeping—in fact, she hadn't been as of late, what with the clock ticking and her desperation growing and all—although that didn't mean that she wasn't a little more than annoyed when her doorbell rang at such an hour.
Bela should have been surprised to see him standing there, slightly wobbly and definitely out of his better judgment. She wasn't.
"What, no sneaking in and overriding my alarm system, Dean?"
His face didn't show any indication that the jab had registered with him. Instead, he stepped slowly inside, and although she was a little bit afraid of what this inebriated man who clearly hated her guts might do to her, she didn't budge. This left their bodies uncomfortably close; Dean looking down his nose at her, but not in a distasteful way, and his lips slightly parted, allowing the combined scents of spearmint and whiskey to curl their way into Bela's nostrils. She didn't bother making a face at him. She knew that in the state that he was in, he wouldn't notice.
"That proposal you made me. The one when we were after the hand of glory," the gruffness of his voice that she had come to so easily identify with Dean Winchester was absent, and instead replaced by a half-desirous, half-tentative growl-and-slur hybrid that she wasn't sure she liked or feared. Part of her, though, knew that she was leaning a little towards the former.
Bela tipped her chin ever so slightly upwards, ignoring the fact that his eyes were trailing an invisible line from her own grey-blue orbs down the bridge of her nose to her lips and repeating that same crash course as if his life depended on it.
She was undoubtedly curious. "I recall the one."
"If it's not still on the table, I'll leave," he breathed the words like they were a prayer. Even in his drunken state, Dean could see it in her eyes that the proposal was far from being off of the table. In fact, it had been damn near carved into the tabletop, and simply covered by the theoretical placemat that was their conflicting, well, everything.
Still, he needed to hear it from her. And he did.
He heard it in the way she pressed her lips to his, sucking in a shaky breath through her nostrils as she bit down on his bottom lip lightly. He heard it in the way she used her hand to bring his head closer to hers, while pressing the other flat against his chest to try and push him away. He heard it in the way she gasped as his mouth found her neck, biting the skin there as if he was trying to devour her pulse in one bite. He heard it in the way their bodies moved as one, shuffling into Bela's bedroom and slowly sinking down onto the sheets, hands forever wandering and lips never parting.
The two of them found each other, this one time, when they were both at the end of the line. They converted their desperation and exhaustion into raw energy and passion and used it to their advantage, wordlessly finding their happy endings—the ones that they were definitely not guaranteed or headed to in this screwed up world they found themselves in. And when they were done, they collapsed beside one another, still silent yet also understanding, and it was the one thing they both needed before they were dragged down into the pit.
Dean stayed there until morning. Bela pretended to still be asleep as she listened to him get dressed; he pretended to not know that she was awake as he wondered if he should stay a little longer. But then that silent understanding was dawning over them again, so Bela pressed her face into her pillow, and Dean got up and left.
Within the same week, she met with the accented demon in the pressed black suit, the one claiming to have a way for her out of her deal. She pretended that the terms didn't crush her; pretended that her actions wouldn't crush Dean, but this was her chance—her one chance—and she was going to take it. Dean would never forgive her, but she liked living, and it wasn't like she needed him to keep doing just that, after all.
Two weeks later, Bela Talbot died anyway, and Dean Winchester soon followed.
AN: I realize this chapter is short, but the others will be much longer. This is only a prologue, after all!
Anyway, thanks for reading and please review!