heeeey! merry christmas and a happy new year to all of you. i actually meant to update this on christmas... but it was christmas, so of course that didn't happen.

i have a lovely ending all planned out and almost fully written so please hold on to your seats.

thank you for the continued support. nothing feels better than seeing the emails i get whenever someone new follows or favourites this story.


Stepping out of the chamber for the first time in five hundred years was interesting.

In a way, Bela felt exhilarated. If nothing, the change of scenery was welcome to her eyes, after all. In its own dangerous way, Hell was beautiful.

Nevertheless, her knees buckled as she took the first step. The breeze in her face blew away all her thoughts for a minute. Dean was there to catch her, a strong arm snaking its way around her waist and propping her up. It was physical contact she hadn't even known she wanted.

Her next few steps were similarly uneasy. Was it real, or was this all simply a particularly elaborate form of psychological torture?

Dean's rough-smooth voice cut short her wonderings. "You know, I said we're gettin' out, but to be honest I have no idea how to do that." He set a pace for the both of them and she found herself able to keep up. She tilted her head up to catch the faint, genuine smile on his face, and realised suddenly that the whole affair meant so much to him. He was happy now. His face was more carefree and unburdened, more boyish than ever. In his own guilt-ridden, wisecracking, macho manner, he really did care.

"Let's just keep going," she breathed. She was walking normally now, and had slipped his arm from her waist.

"Fine by me," he chuckled as they passed a cemetery filled with unmarked graves. Instead of wondering why anyone would need a cemetery in Hell, let alone graves, he found himself sneaking a look every few seconds at Bela's hair. The red taint of blood was faded, almost gone now, and he couldn't help but wonder if it had always been this golden.

"Cas will get us out," he said confidently after a minute. "He's done it before, after all."

"You never did tell me why you got a free ticket out of here, by the way," Bela observed, stepping gingerly over a rotting skull protruding out of the earthen-red ground and grinning at them both. "For all I know, this Castiel bloke just really really likes you."

Dean snorted. "You don't wanna know."

"What, you like him too?" She quipped with a smirk. "Have you told him yet?"

He scowled at the cheap shot. "Okay, so you do wanna know. Well, I," and he jabbed a thumb at his own chest in mock pride, "was the original vessel for Archangel Michael."

"Oh?"

"Yup," he continued. Then, as an afterthought, "either that, or I broke the world and Cas made me go fix it."

"Quite the hero," she grinned.

"I didn't do anything according to plan," he continued, with real pride this time. "Instead of killing Lucifer, I stuffed the bastard back in his own cage. Old Mikey went too."

And so he found himself recounting the past few years. He told her about Soulless Sam and Eve. He recalled the Leviathans and Purgatory. She revealed that she'd once dealt with an anti-Leviathan charm and that it was probably still sitting in her apartment in New York, collecting dust. At this, Dean went very silent, folded his arms and looked deliberately away from her until she told him it was probably a fake anyway.

He even found himself telling her about his year with Lisa and Ben. She was surprised when she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest, and then it was gone, quickly as it had come, so naturally she pretended it had never happened.

"What about you," Dean began after a tranquil minute during which they ascended another replica of Mount Doom, with that infectious smile of his playing on his features. "What's the first thing you wanna do up above?"

"No idea," she replied truthfully. Up until now, she'd only be thinking of what she would be escaping by getting out - not what she would be escaping to. What did she miss? She missed her cat, but he was gone now. She missed quite evenings and spas and fancy restaurants and human company, something she felt she'd only just begun to delve into when she died.

As if echoing her thoughts, Dean spoke up. "C'mon, there must be something you miss. I mean, it's barely been a couple of months for me and damn if I don't miss pie..."

"What a surprise."

"I miss sex," he went on. "Do you?" He gave her an overly suggestive eyebrow wink.

"Why, Dean," she made a big show of drawling, making innocent eyes at him, "are you coming on to me?"

He puffed out his chest. "Baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet."

"I know what I do want," she decided suddenly. "I want a good long bath. Maybe five to six hours, hot water, some salts..."

"... and beer?" Dean finished.

"Not at the same time." She crinkled her nose.

"Shower beers, Bela." He looked at her earnestly. "Or bath beers, whatever. Either way, you don't know what you're missing."

"I think I'll keep it that way," she said lightly, giving him a sideways glance while he watched ahead of them. He really didn't seem very demonic to her. He just seemed like... well, Dean, whatever that meant. It was so easy to forget the things he'd done, but then of course she wondered if they even mattered. After all, she'd made some awful choices in her life too. Sometimes one choice is all it takes to set you on the highway to Hell.

Bela, at the moment, was simply trying to get used to the feeling of (relative) freedom. After five hundred years, she felt very depersonalised as she gazed over the barren plains of Hell with renewed hope in her heart. It wasn't just that physical freedom, though. It was strange having no secrets left to keep, no ugly lead weights making every step difficult anymore. She had nothing left to hide and no burdens left to prop up on her shoulders. It had definitely been hardest to carry the burdens of secrets around Dean, seeing as he was the only one who she knew really could help her.

She was just about to shoot Dean another cursory look, perhaps try to guess what was on his mind, when she found herself frozen stock-still. There was no noise, no movement, but just like that, her limbs went rigid and she all but keeled over on the floor right there and then.

Dean was only a couple of metres past when he realised she wasn't next to him, and turned around wondering briefly - wildly - if she'd fled. When he saw her, though, he knew something was wrong from the poorly-hidden panic on her face. A wave of foreboding passed over him as he saw her begin to struggle to breathe.

There appeared to be nothing physically holding her in place, so he chalked it up right away to a demon. He heard a throat clearing itself noisily behind him and whipped around to see Annie, the 'medic'.

"What are you doing, Dean?" The man asked mildly, with a lack of a questioning lilt that suggested he knew very well what Dean was doing and was issuing an open challenge.

"Takin' a walk," Dean nodded. "What's it look like?"

Black eyes flitted from Bela to Dean. "The term 'prison break' springs to mind."

"Alright," Dean conceded with a shifty grin. "You got me. Call Crowley for me, would ya? I kinda need to have a word with him."

"Already on his way," the medic answered. "But Dean, do you want to know something?"

Dean faked a yawn. "Not really."

"It's good advice," Annie urged. "You should respect your elders, Dean. You could learn a thing or two from a real demon." Then he spat on the ground next to him, and it sizzled. "Crowley? If you ask me, he's pathetic. You know, Papa Lucy would be rather angry if he realised what took over Hell in his stead. I mean, he's a crossroads demon." He let out a high-pitched giggle. "Dean, you want Abby over here out, right? Oh, I know. But you also don't wanna become a d-word." Heavy mockery drenched his words, making it no secret how amusing he found the whole situation.

"Shut up," Dean said, deciding he'd had enough. "Let her go."

"See, Dean, I think you could do a much better job than Crowley. I think you have potential. You know, I was Alastair's pupil too, once." He looked down at his wrinkled hands, wiggling his fingers momentarily in a way that made Dean almost certain something was about to go down. "I just think you need a little motivation."

It happened so fast Bela wasn't even sure she'd caught it. Her throat constricted tight enough for her to let out a short gasp, and now the intense constricting sensation had descended to her torso as well. In the space of two seconds she found herself in excruciating pain, causing a single tear to trickle involuntarily down her cheek. Then it stopped, as quickly as it had begun. Dean was gripping his blade, and Bela noticed with a jolt that his eyes were a deeper black than she had ever seen them.

There was Annie, behind him. His expression was slightly shell-shocked, seemingly surprised at the intensity of the turn of events. Maybe he hadn't expected this drastic of a reaction. Maybe he'd underestimated the blade; who knew? All of these details were secondary to the fact that there was a rather large slit in his neck.

Time stood still for a second. She wondered if Dean was going to go into some sort of killing frenzy - the set of his shoulders certainly suggested something of the sort... perhaps it would be a good idea to run away now?

Then he turned to her and it was worse, because he had this chillingly Dean-esque smile on his face, even though she was certain this here wasn't Dean. "Hey Bela," he called. "Ever wonder what happens when you kill a demon in Hell?"

She tried to look nonchalant as a shrill buzzing began to fill the air. The corpse, rather than collapsing on the ground, seemed to be dissolving into tiny black flies. Bela had never really been fond of insects and now was no exception.

It would have been nice if that were the end of all the ridiculous drama that had been culminating lately (really, she felt like she was in a play) but as luck would have it, Crowley chose this opportune moment to enter from downstage. Goodness, what were her lines again?

"What a mess!" the King of Hell exclaimed after brushing down his suit, his reaction more one of exasperation than anything.

Dean turned from admiring the flies and gave Crowley a nod of acknowledgement.

"I mean, I won't miss him," Crowley added as an afterthought, before raising his voice. "But Dean... weren't you supposed to be suppressing your bloody urges?!"

"Change of plan." Dean's voice was smooth. He jerked a thumb at Bela. "She's getting out."

"Is she now."

As both turned their gazes on her, Bela threw up her hands. "No comment."

Crowley raised an eyebrow at Dean. "Explain."

The jet-black shade of Dean's eyes began to lighten as he spoke. "Well, actually, I thought this would be more of a bonus. Our deal is still on, Crowley; nobody wants this... demon crap. But she gets out, and that's not negotiable."

"Hm," came the reply. "Well, at risk of being entirely honest, it's not really a big deal."

Dean had been expecting a fight, but now his grip loosened on the blade and the mark on his arm ceased to glow. The sad thing was that he was rather disappointed. There was definitely something to be said about the sheer power he possessed. If he wanted something, he sure as hell could get it, and he had a feeling it would be a lot more satisfying after a fight rather than another infernal contract.

A dismissive glance at Bela, and Crowley continued. "Do put away the pointy stick. See, her role was, unfortunately enough, completed, so in terms of pure monetary value, we're not talking much here. It's weird, by the way, that this is what you're demanding from me with that smouldering look of yours. Did you know that her destiny was already in Lilith's hands by the time she was born? Demon deals actually don't normally apply to under-eighteens..."

Bela pressed her lips together tightly. The bizarre experience of having her life dissected before her was quickly becoming tiresome.

".., but Lilith did a little hocus pocus and died in order to bend that rule for the purposes of the Apocalypse. Sure, she died like fourteen years later... but my point till stands."

"I don't care," Dean cut in. It helped, because it prevented Bela from dwelling further on the notion that her whole life was merely a series of deliberated tragedies (which just gave a whole new meaning to the word destiny). "She's still getting out."

"Tell you what, Dean, I'll straighten it all out for you. I need reassurance that you will in fact regain your humanity, and you want the woman. So I propose two weeks. She gets out for two weeks and you have two weeks to either regain your humanity or..." and he shrugged, "render yourself powerless somehow. If you don't, then she comes back down."

Dean folded his arms. It was, again, a win-win situation. Still... "and how do I know you won't just drag her back down anyway?"

At that, Crowley sighed. "Let's see... because I have no use for her? Oh, and because I don't wish to have a Winchester Revenge squad sniffing at my heels?"

Bela gave a thoroughly inappropriate snort.

After all, there was nothing funny about watching the handshake that sealed the deal.


black flies = power of five series. anyone a fan?

oh, and i gave each chapter a real name now