Sam knocked on Bela's door angrily, almost bruising his knuckles in the process. She was there, he knew, yet she was taking her time coming to the door. He had a feeling that she was perfectly aware of the fact that it was him at the door, and that she was purposefully being slow just to piss him off.

Finally, the door opened to reveal Bela, wearing a cream coloured jacket. Her light brown hair shone in the light, and Sam instantly remembered his dream from the other night. The dream where ─ No. Sam refused to think about that.

"Sam," Bela said, a strange, almost frightened look in her eyes. He had never seen her looking so frazzled before.

"Where's the Colt?" He pushed past her, barging into her room, and began looking through her things. He pulled out a stylish brown Louis Vuitton suitcase and rifled through the mountains of expensive designer clothes. He had to find it.

"It's not here, Sam."

He didn't bother turning to face her, not until he heard the distinct sound of a gun. "Bela... what are you doing?" he asked, finally facing her. She had a wild look about her. Slowly, she took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew through the air and missed him by no more than an inch. Luck. Wasting no time, he pulled out his own gun and pointed it at her. "What's going on? Why would you try to kill me if, like you say, you don't have the Colt?" He took a step forward, backing her into the door.

"Well, you see, Sam, I don't take kindly to people coming into my room unannounced." She smirked, though a tear dropped from her left eye and her bottom lip trembled.

"What, so you try and kill them?!" He shook his head incredulously and looked up, exasperated at her behaviour. But something caught his eye. Something odd. She followed his gaze and realised with a gasp what he was looking at.

"That isn't really why you tried to kill me, is it? This is why," he said, still looking at the twigs on her doorframe. "You're trying to keep hellhounds away."

Bela lowered her gun. "Aren't you a clever boy," she said venemously, her lower lip still trembling.

"Did they ─ the demons, I mean ─ ask you to kill me?" Sam took her hand and lef her to the couch, lowering his gun.

"No, I just felt like murdering you." She rolled her eyes, but sat down all the same.

Everything was very still. Neither of them spoke, rather, they simply stared at each other, unsure of what to do.

Bela began to fiddle with her long, glossy hair, whilst Sam looked down at his worn shoes.

"So," he began, a bit too loud. Bela looked up sharply. "Um..." He cleared his throat. "How long do you have."

"An hour." Her voice wobbled, though she tried to disguise it. She looked away for a moment and wiped her eyes. When she faced him once more, she seemed calm and composed. "I could still kill you, you know." She smiled coyly.

"But you won't." Sam knew that as much as she wanted people to think so, Bela wasn't a cold blooded, stone hearted killer.

"Even if it meant getting my soul back?" She raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be so sure, Sam Winchester."

He shrugged without breaking eye contact. "It's a risk I'll have to take."

There was another pause, shorting this time.

"If you don't mind me asking," he averted his eyes and scratched his ear awkwardly. "What did you do? I mean, what did you get in exchange for your soul?" All traces of a smile left Bela's face. She bit her lip. "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to." His eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"No, it's fine. Truly." She inhaled deeply and said, "When I was younger, my father abused me." She stressed the word 'abused' so that Sam would know what she meant. "My mum, she knew, but she didn't care. No one cared.

One day I was on the swings and a little girl, around my age, came up to me and told me that she would help me, and that it would cost me nothing for ten whole years. I didn't know what I was doing. If I had known, I never would have..." She was openly crying now; tears streamed down her face as she sobbed loudly.

Sam put a hand on her arm, trying his best to comfort the hell-bound woman. "I─ I had no idea..."

She sniffed. "Well of course you didn't. I only just told you now!"

Sam nodded and pressed his lips together. Even with forty-five minutes left to live, Bela still had attitude. To tell the truth, he kind of admired her for it. In face, maybe he didn't just admire her... maybe he loved her. It was crazy, he was aware of that, but there was something about her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap."

"No, no. It's fine, really." He smiled and began to involuntarily lean in. To his surprise, she mirrored his actions. It was wrong. He shouldn't have been doing this, yet at the same time it felt so right. And suddenly his lips were on hers, ad her hands were on his shoulders, and his were on her waist. He realised then that he didn't care if kissing Bela was right or wrong, all that mattered was that he loved her.

Her right hand caressed his cheek and moved into his hair, even as his tongue was exploring her mouth. Soon, she was running both sets of fingers through his luscious hair whilst straddling him.

Who could say how long they kissed? Perhaps they would have made out for days had the clock not struck twelve.

They parted immediately, panic seizing them. Midnight ─ it was time.

"I can hear the hounds! They're outside!" She cried, clinging on to him. Sam heard nothing, but he knew she was telling the truth. Suddenly, the door flung open with a bang and Bela screamed. She looked into his deep eyes one last time and whispered softly, "I don't want to go. Sam, I'm scared."

"I love you," he confessed, planting a kiss on her forehead just before the hounds dragged her to the floor, ripping and clawing at her until she was almost unrecognisable. Sam tried to stop them; he ran at the hounds, though he could not see them, and he shot at them, but they barely noticed. By the time the clawing stopped, Bela was dead.

Sam knelt beside her broken body and took her scratched hands in his own. He felt empty inside, as if his heart had been torn out, just as hers had been.

"Bela, I swear to God, that if it's the last thing I do, I will get you out of Hell," he promised solemnly. It was a promise he intended to keep.