Chapter Twelve

Think fast, Bela.

She grabbed the sleeve of her dress and pulled it down so that her shoulder was bare and it would appear, from a small crack in the door, that she was holding her dress up to cover herself. Quickly, she wrenched open the door a tiny bit and peered through.

"Hi." she said.

The guard looked bemused. "Feeling better, I see?"

"Yes, much," Bela replied. "Thank you."

"So, um, if you're done with the room?" he asked.

Bela turned and glanced behind her at nothing, giving nothing a tiny mischevious smile that the guard couldn't fail to see. "Not exactly. Could we have a few more minutes?"

The guard raised his eyebrows—he got her drift. "Yes, ma'am." And he withdrew. Bela shut the door, and for a final flourish, she let out a high-pitched giggle that he most certainly heard through the door.

"Stop it! That tickles!"

Her work done, she sat back down on the sofa and pulled her sleeve back into its proper place just as Dean slipped into the room.

"Any trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Bela retorted, and she saw Dean produce a nasty, shriveled hand from his coat jacket. Unable to hide her eagerness, Bela stood up and stepped forward. "The hand. May I?"

Dean jumped back pertly. "No."

"It might be more inconspicuous in my purse," Bela tried vainly.

"Nice try," Dean said.

Well, it was worth a shot. "Just trying to be helpful," she said, chagrined.

Dean snorted. "Well, sweetheart, I don't need your kind of help."

Really.

They left the room and descended the stairs. Bela nudged Dean.

"What?" he growled.

"Nothing," Bela said, and slipped the hand that she'd expertly swiped into her purse, now empty of the little ship. She'd swapped the hand for the ship. Stopping the feeling of incredible triumph from showing on her face, she glanced at Dean and was glad to see that he had noticed nothing.

Upon re-entering the ballroom they saw that Sam was still being pawed by the old bag. Bela hid a grin as they approached the lovely couple.

"Well, having a nice time?" she said.

Gert gave her a sly smile. "He's delightful." Lowering her voice, she whispered to Bela, "He wants me!"

Bela shot Sam a look. Although they had their differences, Bela sincerely doubted that Sam wanted Gert. "I'm going to get Gert into a cold shower," Bela said, and led the old bag away.

Bela ditched Gert quite quickly after that. She got into her car and dialed a number on her cell.

"Ron, hello, it's Lugosi. Yes. The Hand of Glory, I've got it." Bela paused for a few moments and smiled. "Two million would certainly be reasonable."

-break-

The exchange was pleasantly quick and soon Bela was driving away again, shuffling through a nice large pile of bills and smirking.

It was a nice night, and Bela was in a good mood, so she took a slow drive along the pier, glancing out to sea.

When was the last time she'd taken her time to admire a beautiful night, stop and smell the roses? Her life was too busy earning money and trying very hard to enjoy herself. What if enjoyment needn't be forced? What if Bela was going the wrong way about this? Maybe she shouldn't have tried so hard to force herself to be happy; maybe she should just have lived?

Bela sighed. Now that she would die in a few months, what was the point of trying to live? She'd just have to go on like this. But if she could go back… she'd do it all different.

Too late now.

Then she gasped.

Sailing across the sea in front of her was a ship—impossibly huge to be sailing on such a shallow bay. It was the ghost ship; her stomach plummeted.

What? Why?

How?

Why…?

Bela floored the pedal, yanked her car into reverse and drove off as fast as she could in the opposite direction. Whenever she happened to glance in the rearview mirror, the ship was still there, ghostly and translucent against the dark, dark night.

Why her? Damn, she'd never even bothered to find out why the ghost was choosing his victims. Never thinking for a moment that she might be next. But she knew two people who would have.

She was loathe to go to the Winchesters for help, but although she would never admit it Bela was badly frightened. She didn't want to be robbed of the few months she had left. Bela would shelve her pride for once.

Disregarding the speed limits completely, Bela arrived at the Winchesters' hideout in a daze of panic. Before she knew it she was rapping on the door and crying out in a scared voice quite unlike to her usual sultry tone, "Hello? Could you open up?"

A moment, and the door opened. Bela pushed her way in. "Just let me explain." She collapsed into a chair and fixed Sam and Dean with a half-forlorn, half-defiant glare. "I sold it. I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed."

The look Sam and Dean exchanged told her that this didn't surprise them in the slightest. Typical Bela, we ought to have seen this coming, I knew we couldn't trust her, their looks said, clear as day.

"So the whole reason for us to go to that Charity Ball was…?" Sam wanted to know.

Bela let out a breath. "I needed a cover. You were convenient."

Sam and Dean exchanged another of those looks. "Look, so you sold it to a buyer, just go buy it back."

Bela's mouth was dry and she had to swallow once or twice before she could continue. "It's halfway across the ocean. I can't get it back in time."

Dean's brow furrowed. "In time for what?"

"What's going on with you, Bela?" Sam chimed in. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Very apt. "I saw the ship." she said in barely more than a whisper. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. How humiliating, allowing the Winchesters to see her like this.

"You what?" Dean asked, and then let out something that sounded horribly like a derisive laugh. "Wow, you know, I knew you were an immoral thieving wretch but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower."

"What are you talking about?" Bela said.

"We figured out the spirit's motive," Sam said. He poked a finger at a black-and-white photograph of a stately-looking man in uniform. "This is the captain of our ship. The one who hanged our ghost-boy."

"So?"

"So they were brothers. Very Cain and Abel. The captain had his own brother hanged. So now the spirit's going after a very specific kind of target. People who've spilled their own family's blood. See, first there was Sheila who killed her cousin in a car accident, and then the Warren brother, who murdered their father for the inheritance, and now you."

There was a brief silence in which the words sank into Bela. Spilled their own family's blood… oh God, but it wasn't like that, Bela hadn't murdered her parents for the inheritance, she'd done it out of self-preservation. But then there was Sheila, who hadn't meant to kill her cousin in an accident at all. It appeared the ghost wasn't picky about the finer details.

"My God," Bela breathed.

Dean just had to step in. "So, who was it, Bela? Hmm? Who'd you kill? Was it Daddy? Little sis, maybe?"

Yes, you bloody smug hunter, it was Daddy. I killed Daddy to stop him from doing the things he did to me. You'd have done it too. If your Daddy was hurting you like that and suddenly a demon offers to get rid of him for you, get rid of both of them, you'd have said yes. So don't presume to know me, Dean, because you don't know me at all.

Bela didn't say any of that. Instead she said, "It's none of your business."

"No, you're right. Have a nice life, or you know, whatever's left of it." Dean walked past her and started for the door. "Sam, let's go."

They were leaving? How could they? They were the good guys, or had they forgotten? "You can't just leave me here." She couldn't keep the tremor from her voice.

"Watch us." Dean said.

"Please," Bela said. "I need your help."

"Our help?" Dean rolled his shoulders. "Now how could a couple of serial killers possibly help you?"

Honestly, he was still stinging from that? "Okay, that was a bit harsh, I admit, but it doesn't warrant a death sentence!"

"That's not why you're gonna die," Sam scoffed. "What'cha do, Bela?"

Miserable and completely out of her element, Bela whispered, "You wouldn't understand. No-one did." This was useless. Standing up suddenly, she headed for the door. "Never mind. I'll just do what I've always done, I'll deal with it by myself."

Dean called, "You do realise you just sold the only thing that could save your life."

Did he think she'd forgotten, or what? Bela paused, closing her eyes briefly. "I'm aware."

"But… maybe not the only thing." This was from Sam. Dean and Bela turned around, hope in her eyes, disbelief in his.

"What?" Dean demanded.

"I have an idea," Sam replied, and Bela waited.