It's been almost a year! I've been at uni. I wrote this while I was there, but never really deemed it postworthy until recently, with a lot of editing.

It's important to know a little context about this one. It's set after the last Bela scene in the show. The idea is that Bela had one last lead on possibly escaping the deal, and she decides that she needs Dean's help to acquire it. So they find the object and return to her apartment to test if it works (using her spirit board). This is a one-shot and far more emotionally-driven than plot-driven, but I think it still has its merits.

"Well…" She stared at the board. The amulet was clutched in her right hand, tight enough for the gold to leave an imprint in her palm.

The answers were right in front of her, but she didn't read them, didn't acknowledge them.

She looked slowly beside her at Dean, face full of so much hope that it broke her own heart, and had to tell him. "It doesn't work." Her voice was hollow, dead as the spirits of the board.

"It didn't work," she repeated, confirming it. And this time her voice broke too. "Dean, it doesn't work." Ten years of sadness, self-pity and worst of all, hope, came crashing down like an avalanche. It was finally time to cry and she was sobbing so hard that Dean, still processing the information, sat down hard on the floor,

When she hunched over, trying to lean into him for comfort that he couldn't offer, his brow crumpled, though his face was solid stone.

"We're going to hell, Dean," she whispered, once the sobs had subsided and no more tears would flow. "Nothing's going to change that."

As painful as it was for him, he was blown away by Bela's utter dejection. Gone was every last bit of sarcastic Miss Know-it-All, and her elegance, once sharp enough to draw blood, was buried under a decade of dust and forever dulled by the ultimate revelation that no, there was no way out. No more time. Her three-year lead was a dud and the hellhounds were calling.

They could've - perhaps should've - parted ways then… but it felt too bad to be alone. Dean himself had no wish to return to Sam and break the bad news yet again, watch his little brother's face fall; or worse - Sammy would nod and shrug. "So what, Dean? We're going for Lilith anyway. That was the endgame to begin with. We get her before she gets you. I'll call Ruby." Because Sam refused to believe Dean was actually going down.

And Bela… she saw no point in asking Dean to leave. Maybe just this once, while her diamond outer shell glittered at them in pretty pieces on the floor, she could give in and admit that she didn't want to spend the night alone.

So this was how they found themselves, crawling over the floor of Bela's apartment to the couch, Bela ignoring how Dean managed to ruffle up so much of the carpet on the way. He pulled himself up sluggishly, emotions dogging his movements, and sat there motionlessly, staring at nothing. She didn't make it onto the couch, and collapsed against the side, hugging her knees desperately.

Bela was the first to get up. Sluggishly, she disentangled herself from Dean, who was still snoring. His face was rather more relaxed, temporarily devoid of the lines of worry that usually marred it. She wondered just how many people he allowed to see him like this.

They were hellbound in two more days. Bela felt utterly drained as she tottered over to the kitchen wearily. Routine demanded a cup of tea. She turned back to look at Dean, still snoring on the sofa, and decided that a pot of coffee might be more appropriate. It was something to do with how she knew his expression would contort once he woke up and remembered the catastrophe of last night. He would appreciate the coffee, and where was the harm in doing nice things for people now?

Usually she took care and pride out of brewing the perfect pot of tea or coffee. It was just another of her numerous talents, useless as they were all turning out to be in the end. Today, she found herself unable to care, and by the time she was done, there was a major spill of ground beans on the counter which she didn't even bother considering cleaning up.

The concoction that she carried over back to the living room was bitter and concentrated, as if it was brimming with emotion itself.

Bela wasn't surprised to see Dean sitting up as she placed a tray with the pot and two of her most expensive cups onto the coffee table. The kettle's whistle was none too quiet and if that hadn't woken him up, the telltale smell surely would've.

He raised an eyebrow at the fancy porcelain and, initially, made no comment. Instead he just grunted with pleasure as he sipped. Black coffee was pretty much the only thing he drank in the morning, and he guessed that Bela had done this for his benefit.

Still… he had to say something.

"I hope it's not poisoned," he joked after a second sip. Then, at her pained expression, he relented. "Alright, maybe not the time and place."

Bela shook her head distantly. "No, it's fine. It's just…"

Her expression quickly became unreadable, so he waited patiently. After a minute, she set her own cup down and got up from the sofa. Dean watched her gaze flit around the room, searching for something, finally settling behind the couch they were sitting on. She reached over and plucked her coat from the floor where it lay, discarded.

It was crumpled, with the sleeves turned inside out in distress, but she managed to find one of the inside pockets. Once she'd retrieved something, she dropped the coat and collapsed back on the couch with a sigh.

Eventually, she unclenched her fist and revealed the object. Rather, two objects. She set the twin pair of vials on the table and snatched her cup of coffee back up almost hurriedly, fingers trembling some.

The golden sheen of the liquid inside the tiny glass bottles had an allure that spoke of danger. Rather like Bela herself, Dean thought inwardly, though there was no way he was ever going to admit to anyone, himself included, the sway over him that Bela unwittingly wielded.

"Arsenic," she answered before he could ask the question. "Courtesy of Lilith, though I'm sure it wouldn't have been an issue to find some myself."

Dean felt slightly sick. "So she-"

"So she did. One for you and one for Sam. That's what she told me last week."

He swallowed and thought hard as she turned, looking deliberately away from him. A week? Evidently he wasn't as careful as he'd thought. He knew there had to have been at least one opportunity for her to take. His guard tended to drop around her, as hard as he fought to keep it up.

So easy to conceal, and so utterly deadly if she'd struck. An absolute hallmark of Bela's style. He examined the bottles. The cork stoppers appeared almost welded in place, as if they'd never so much as been tampered with. He stole a glance at her, but all he caught was hair.

"You never tried," he muttered, setting his coffee back on the table and framing his head in his hands. It was almost too much - Bela, presented with a simple opportunity to save herself, barely soiling her hands in the process… refusing. "Why?"

"Come on, Dean, do you really think she'd have kept the deal?" She lied carefully, putting so much effort into sculpting the lie that it ended up being too perfect for Dean to really believe. "Bitch would've laughed in my face and sent me down anyway. I only accepted it because she'd have slaughtered me on the spot if I didn't."

"I threatened to kill you."

"So? You were far from the first." She smiled faintly, confident that she'd protected her persona of heartlessness. "I mean, there are phone sex hotlines, and then there's my 24/7 death threat service."

He contemplated her as he gazed into his drink. Dean was no fool. If they really didn't mean anything to her, if she really cared about no-one other than herself… if she really was as simply cold-hearted as she maintained… they would have been dead the moment she got the chance.

Feeling weary, he spoke softly. "Damn it, Bela."

She faltered. "What?"

"You're no villain."

Bela made a big show of snorting and rolling her eyes, acting unfazed by what he was getting at. "Keep telling yourself that, Dean. Who killed her parents? Who stole the colt? I mean, I know you think I'm gorgeous, but you're going to have to accept that I never really was on your side."

Her heart sank when he shrugged it all off and didn't even rise to the bait. "Why do you want it so bad? Why do you want me to hate you so much? Answer that for me, Bela."

It hit so close to home that tears - leftover from last night - sprang to her eyes unbidden. "Because…it's-"

Easier this way. She pressed her lips together, finishing the sentence in her head. To say it aloud would be the end of both her and Dean.

He nodded to himself as he watched her swallow the words before they could slip out. The real question was … why. Why was he hell-bent on figuring out the enigma that was Bela Talbot? He barely had two days to live, dammit! There were far more important things he should be doing.

And yet… here they were.

"It doesn't even matter," Bela murmured eventually, her tone fatigued.

He made no comment.

She turned to him then, earnestly. "Lilith. I don't want to go out her way."

"What do you mean?"

She held up the bottles of arsenic and tried for a smile. It was chillingly obvious what she was alluding to. "We'll still go to hell… but we'll deny her the satisfaction."

Dean glanced down at their coffee cups, still almost full. He had to admit - it would be easy. All the same, he didn't seriously consider it for even a second out of the two silent minutes for which he stared at them, contemplating not the act, but Bela. She had completely given up.

"I can't do it alone," she added, almost pleading. She offered him one of the vials.

Grimly, Dean took it. Bela watched him uncork it with a feeling of utter emptiness, finding some slight respite in the knowledge that it would be over soon. But Dean pulled his arm back and hurled the vial across the apartment. It smashed straight into the wall, splattering some liquid on it, while the rest dripped down and stained the carpet.

Dean turned to her, fiddling with her own vial with slender fingers, and shook his head. "You know, Bela, with all the hunting me and Sammy do, we've been in more than our fair share of … uh, near-death situations. And I got the scars to prove it."

"And damn if I haven't been this close to strikin' out before. Sometimes…"

His eyes went distant.

"This past year… things got real bad. And I've slipped onto this slope more times than I'd like to admit. Usually spent the evening at a bar and drank myself to sleep at the first motel I could find. Since then I've realised something. No matter how badly things seem messed up, or how close to death I find myself, there is always a way out."

Bela cut in. "Spare me the speech, Dean. We just tried the way out. Didn't work, remember?"

"Nah, you misunderstand me."

"So enlighten me." She was upset, because he was getting over it. He'd dug up some optimism, somehow. Kick-started his ignition already, ready to speed off before she even had a chance to learn how to keep up.

Dean shrugged. "Our deals… they were always gonna come down to the wire."

It was true. Each of them had fought for a way out as long as they could. And for Bela, that was ten whole years.

"But that amulet," Dean continued, "was not the wire. We still have a chance. If we kill Lilith, we win."

"And I sold the only thing that can kill Lilith to her," Bela muttered, closing her eyes tightly.

"Yeah," he said softly.

It wasn't the situation itself, but rather the dramatic irony that really got to Bela. It was like Dean said. If she'd just gone to him for help, they would both be out of the mess that this had become. And every time she thought of it, the regret skulked through her throat, making itself known. Making her want to give up all the more.

"Thing is, Bela," Dean said, voice like leaves in the wind, "I have reason to believe there's another way of ganking her."

Bela opened an accusing eye and spoke in a tired voice. "Liar."

"Why would I lie?" He asked simply.

She opened the other eye. "Why would you tell me the truth?"

He paused under her challenging gaze, imploring him to leave her, let her give up on her own. But as far as Dean was concerned, the most important people to help were those who no longer wanted to help themselves. "Because you deserve a chance just as much as I do. You may not be on our side, Bela, but you sure as hell ain't one of them. And that's good enough for me."

"I'd sell you out if it -"

She cut herself off. Bela knew she wouldn't; never again.

After a few seconds, Dean grinned. "Huh. Never realised, but you're actually pretty hot when you don't talk."

That had her rolling her eyes. "Eloquent. Can you blame me for doubting the effectiveness of your plan for killing Lilith?"

"Easiest job of my life." He winked.

Bela grinned. "I'll stay home, watch you through a scrying orb. It's an exorcism, isn't it? You're going to walk into the white-eyed bitch and chant grammatically debatable Latin at her. Honestly, at that point it's just free entertainment."

He snorted. "I'd rather watch pay-per-view porn, but whatever floats your boat."

The humour faded quickly. "I'm curious though. Honestly."

Dean gave her a knowing look. "Let's just say… I have an opportunity to screw an annoying bitch over and she happens to possess a knife that's killed every demon we've stuck it in so far."

It was all worth it, in retrospect, for how her expression lit up momentarily (until she caught herself).. He was just so sick of seeing the hopelessness lately. In her, in Sammy, in himself.

Bela put down a now-empty cup of coffee. "So let me guess… you want me to steal the knife."

A nod from Dean. "I mean, we could just take it by brute force, but I think it'll be more fun this way."

"Then what? We charge in, guns blazing, into a powerful demon who's probably expecting us?"

"Damn right we do." Dean got up and stepped around the couch, making his way towards the kitchen, to find something to eat, no doubt. "So worse things come to worst, we go out swingin', and that?" He smiled genuinely over at her. "Considering our options, that ain't so bad."

A minute later, he knew she was in when he heard the second vial of arsenic shatter.

I'd like to thank everyone who's still reviewing and favouriting "First Day on the Job", although I do wonder why some people continue to 'follow' it since it's completed.

unfortunately, there probably won't be a sequel. after theorycrafting a bunch of different plots, I came to the conclusion that while I still wanted to write more bela, forcing it into a sequel would result in a lackluster plot and sparse updates. after all, Bela has already endured decades in Hell, and it's extremely difficult to think of a meaningful way to top that. so at least for now, I won't be writing a sequel. however, I will try and clean up any particularly loose ends in the fic to make sure it isn't as suggestive of a sequel as I made it.

instead, the next fic I write will probably be one set, again, during Bela's actual screentime. at the moment I'm keen on a storyline where she doesn't die and go to hell, and I have an idea in mind.