Author's note: First of all I'd like to thank everyone for your reviews! I really appreciate it, guys :)) They are the best support and encouragement ever. Mostly I write all this stuff at night(s) when I have insomnia, so please blame all mistakes and insanities to an excessive lever of caffeine in my brain.

Well, no more words! Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Long shower was exactly what Bela needed. She leaned her forehead against the cool tile wall in the small shower cubicle filled with thick white steam and let hot water stream down her body for the whole thirty minutes, barely moving over this time, and it felt like it was essentially helping in clearing her mind as well.

Eight weeks. She was dead for the whole eight weeks. That was what Bobby told her. Or maybe he was addressing Sam. Bela didn't care much. What made her wonder was how on earth it was possible that she was no longer dead. Oh, Lord! The thought made her snicker to herself. No longer dead! Like no longer working here, or no longer on vacation, or no longer playing baseball on weekends. Or something else normal.

But it wasn't normal, even in her reality. Not even anywhere close to normal. Not that she minded being alive – kidding? who the hell would mind?! – but it seriously bothered her – how? And why? Reverse those two questions, maybe. Bela tried to recall whether she ever heard about people who managed to come back from the other side, and giggled despite herself at the image of zombies from old low-budget horror movies in her mind. Not exactly an answer she wanted to find.

On the other hand, maybe it was a mass break-out and now the whole world was flooded with former hell prisoners, and she was just one of them? An accident, nothing special. Well, of course it was something special! To her. But all in all… Could be. The Winchesters had already been clumsy enough once to let the Hell Gate be opened. Bela hoped that they were smarter than making the same mistake twice but, honestly, she wouldn't have put it past them. Besides, there could be someone else – someone knew – who could have made it, accidentally or for a reason.

It was the simplest explanation, the easiest one so far. And the most insane too, but, truth be told, she still didn't feel quite well to think properly and logically, and look for another one, although she had to admit that her state was perfect for someone who was dead for the whole eight bloody weeks. Oh, God, was she buried?! The thought made her shiver.

Bela turned the water off, slicked her sopping wet hair from her face, wrapped herself up in a towel and got out of the cubicle. She brushed her palm against the weeping mirror and stared at her reflection. Wanted to make sure it was her reflection, the way she remembered it, as if it could have changed over the last half an hour. Still had a problem with believing that something made her alive again. Couldn't help but wonder what she'd do if she saw someone else in the mirror, like her soul in other person's body, or…

Or probably it would be better if she stopped thinking about it before she went crazy, Bela decided. Too much for now. Too much for one day.

One hour after waking up she – dressed up in Bobby's old shorts and a t-shirt that was at least three times larger than necessary and could probably lodge one more Bela if needed – was sitting downstairs at the kitchen table, a mug of steaming coffee and a plate with sandwich before her. She actually didn't pay much attention to it though, too annoyed by Bobby and Sam who kept on peering at her without so much as a blink, as if she was an alien or something, like a monkey in the zoo, and they didn't want to miss the show. Okay, looking at the situation from their point of view she could understand it, but c'mon!

"Listen, if you expect to hear an exciting story, I'm afraid I have to disappoint you," Bela said at last some ten minutes later when she started feeling that their gazes were half-way to burning a hole in her. "The last thing I remember is hellhounds howling…" her voice trailed off and she dropped her eyes, looked at the scarred surface of the table instead and shrugged pretty matter-of-factly, as if it was nothing. "No white light in the end of the tunnel. No hell-fire," nearly in a whisper and more to herself than to them. Or maybe it was somewhere there... where she couldn't see it.

The problem was that she was telling the truth – she didn't remember anything between now and then, as if what she was talking about happened a little more than an hour ago, a little too vivid in her head. She could still feel that fear and desperation consuming her, burning her alive, and that pounding of her heart in her chest, in her head, everywhere. And then… nothing.

"So, you don't remember how you got here?" Bobby asked cautiously and somewhat suspiciously.

"Here – where?"

"Here," he gestured around. Paused. "Well, to my porch actually, but that's details. How did you find my place anyway? Don't remember ever inviting you."

"Never knew it was a big secret," with a scoff. "But speaking of this particular case, I have no idea," Bela stared back at him, held his gaze for long enough to make it clear she was in no mood for any games. "Truthfully, I cannot even imagine how it could be physically possible." Angled her head slightly. "No, seriously, guys, what did you do? A spell? Not that I'm not grateful, just curious. From where I'm standing, it is a whole new level of magic."

"Don't flatter yourself," Sam snorted, clearly with resentment and despise, which made Bela arch her brows in unspoken question. He shook his head in mock disbelief that she actually could be that naïve to think that any of them would give damn about her ill fate.

"Cute!" Bela drawled, strangely hurt by his comment, but not quite surprised. And anyway, when it came to pretending and hiding feelings, she was still the best. Sam's words brought her to another thought though. "Where is my dear friend Dean, by the way?" Even looked around as if expecting to see him standing behind her back. "I'm sure he'd have a word or two to say about my resurrection."

Bobby cleared his throat. Dropped his gaze.

The pause seemed so long and heavy that Bela anything but ran out of the room knowing in the back of her mind that she knew an answer and didn't want to hear it being said out loud.

"What?" She asked with a frown nonetheless, totally against herself, before she came up with a smart idea to bite her tongue.

"Dean's dead, Bela!" Sam hissed at her. His eyes narrowed in poorly hidden outrage and he looked like given a chance to burn someone with his gaze he'd do it without so much as a hesitation.

It struck her despite any half-guesses. It struck her more than she could have expected. Crushed her. Made her freeze to the chair, or maybe it was Sam's glare that literary pinned her to it. Bela swallowed hard, feeling that something squeezed her lunges so tight that she could hardly take a breath, tried to process this new information in her mind and… failed. It was something beyond her.

She never doubted – not even for one goddamned second! – that Dean would find a way to break the deal, escape with pit. With Colt or without it. He was Dean after all, and he couldn't die because… he couldn't!

Her heart jumped up to her throat and then fell deep down somewhere. Unable to hold Sam's gaze, Bela looked down.

"I'm sorry…"

"And should I explain why he died?" Sam moved on. Hatred, and pain, and fury were so strong in his voice that she was taken aback as if he physically pushed her. "Who caused it?"

"Um… a demon?"

"You!" Sam bellowed.

Bela snapped her head up. "I was trying to save my life, Sam!" She hissed in defensive tone. So what if she felt guilty and miserable and preferred not to know the truth? So what if she knew that Sam was right? So what if his words struck her right in the heart? So what if she could barely handle it? There was no need for him to know it. He had no right to blame her for the wish to live.

"Yeah, a mistake that Dean once made, too!" He shot right back. "Saved you life. And you killed him!"

Bela was on her feet before she knew it and glaring at Sam, fire in her eyes. "I can't turn back time and I can't do anything about it now!" I wish I could but I can't. "I said I was sorry. What else do you want from me?"

"Nothing!" Sam snapped. "I don't want anything from you, and save your excuses. They can't bring my brother back! I'd just rather Dean was alive instead of you. God sees he deserves it more than anyone, least of all you, Bela."

"Sam," Bobby stepped forward when it became obvious that Sam and Bela were a moment away from starting a real fight.

"What?" Sam grimaced. "Gonna say I'm not right?"

"Just back off for a sec. And you," Bobby pointed his finger at Bela, "sit down. I don't want a blood bath in my kitchen. Do try to be civilized, both of you."

Sam frowned but moved towards the sink and leaned against it. He pursed his lips and folded his arms on the chest. Glared at Bela, and if a look could actually kill, she be long lying dead on the wooden floor. I'm sorry, Sam mimicked her mentally. As if her I'm sorry could change anything! He wasn't even sure she was sorry. 'Course she wasn't! To be sorry one should have heart first! Something that Bela Talbot definitely couldn't brag about.

Bela scowled but obeyed nonetheless and lowered herself back onto the chair. Sent another flaring look at Sam and swallowed all these words that nearly slipped out of her mouth. She looked at the situation from his point of view and, honestly, she didn't like what she saw. It seemed pretty ugly. But what could she do?!

"Look," Bobby took a seat across from Bela, gave her a somewhat appraising glance, "we really didn't do anything to bring you back…"

"Gee, thanks! Not that I expected. The world would probably turn upside down if you did."

Bobby ignored her sarcasm though, and continued, "But we were looking for a way to bring Dean back, ever since he…" he paused and cleared his throat. Bela got what he was going to say though, and saw how hard it was for Bobby – if impossible – to say it out loud. "And we found nothing. No way to make someone alive once he's dead, unless you want to bring back something not quite human. Like… zombie, or… something else unpleasant. Well, you're definitely not…"

"Speak for yourself," Sam grumbled in a low voice.

"…It means that there is a way, and if you know…"

"Swear to God, Bobby, I have no idea."

"What? You didn't pay to someone before dying to save you from hell?" Sam gasped in mock disbelief, made big eyes at her, all you never seize to amaze me, baby. "How could that be?"

"Sam!" Bobby cut him off warningly. "Bela, if you know someone who could have saved you… or what…"

"It sounds like a bad joke, Bobby, really," her wry grin was more bitter than amused. Bela shook her head feeling all of a sudden terribly lonely, all on her own. "Actually, I never was this optimistic to believe that you would help me, so I admitted a thought that something happened, like an Apocalypse or…" she rubbed her forehead thoughtfully and then looked rather helplessly at Bobby, who turned back to Sam, who only shrugged. "Guess, I was wrong."

"If anything like that happened, Dean would be the first to get out," Sam commented rather darkly.

"No doubt about that," Bela muttered under her breath not addressing anyone in particular.

Bobby chewed on his lower lip. "So, you don't know…"

"Last thing I remember is talking to Dean on the phone," she interrupted him looking into nowhere. Got pretty annoyed by their slowness by now. I'll see you in hell. His last words to her. The last words she heard before… Bela wondered somewhat distractedly what were the last words that Dean heard, the last thing he saw. And understood that it strangely bothered her a tad more than she'd like to admit. "Then… then I woke up here. That's it." Raised her head and met Bobby's eyes. "I don't know how I got here. All I know is that… I didn't want to die."

"Ever thought that it might be a right thing to happen?" Sam snarled.

"Who made you a God?" Bela snapped back.

"No need to be a God to see something that obvious!"

"Would you two shut up please?" Bobby growled with growing irritation. "Somebody's trying to think here!" Glared at them in turns, something like only-dare-to-open-your-mouths. And then, "Thank you!" when no one said a word. "Technically speaking, we're not interested in reasons. All we have to do is find out how," on looking at Bela again. "And help Dean."

"And you have to help us with this, Bela," Sam added, not at all enthusiastic, as if it was something very unpleasant but yet inevitable and all he could do was give up. And so he did.

His voice irked her.

"And why would I want to do that?"

"Because you killed him!"

"Thank you, Sam! I got your opinion, no need to repeat twice. Really."

"It's not an opinion. It's the truth."

"Are you finished?" Bobby rolled his eyes referring to endless bickering. Oh, like they had nothing else to do! "He's right, Bela. You're our only clue to how… revive Dean."

"I already told you everything I knew," she reminded him, finally took a sip of her long cold coffee. Hoped they didn't notice her trembling hands.

"You told us nothing," Sam put in grimly.

Bela gave him a look over the rim of her mug. "Because I know nothing."

"But there should be something, and I'm sure if we analyze everything…" Bobby started thoughtfully. He got to his feet and awarded himself with another steaming and bitter drink.

"Okay, okay," Bela rolled her eyes and raised her hands in universal I-give-up gesture. "Whatever! If you think it can be of help… I can try. Happy?"

"Sounds like a Christmas gift," Sam snorted.

She ignored him entirely.

"First of all I've got to make a couple of phone calls to find out something that you obviously couldn't, and then…"

"No," Bobby interrupted her firmly. "You can't call anyone. Officially, you're still dead. And the longer you stay dead, the better. We can't let anyone know that you are... back."

"Does it make me a prisoner here or what?" Bela inquired with a frown.

"'Course it doesn't!" Bobby exclaimed somewhat defensively, insulted by her supposition. "It's just a precaution."

"Simple logic," Sam added.

"Says the one who is going to bring someone back from dead," Bela smirked.

"Says the one who is back from dead," Sam mimicked her.

Bobby sighed. "You two should be isolated. From each other and from the rest of the world."

--

Bela rolled over and stared at the ceiling. The bed was stiff and the pillow was flat and slightly lump-ridden, and not even anywhere close to what she used to sleep on. Besides, old house was full of all kinds of strange noises that she wasn't accustomed to. All these squeaks and rustles made Bela imagine that it was breathing, as if living a life of its own.

Not that there was a chance for her to fall asleep anyway, even in the most comfortable bed ever, Bela thought with a sigh.

Dead.

Dean Winchester was dead.

She couldn't believe it because it was something too big and too overwhelming to process in her mind. And she couldn't stop thinking about it either. Couldn't get image of him out of her mind even for a moment. So alive. So full of energy and vital force every single moment of his life. Always an optimist. Always… Dean. The only one. Unique.

Bela was one thousand percent sure that he would find a way to kill Lilith and save himself, and Sam, assuming that it was the general idea. He was smart – despite what she was saying, and actually thinking, sometimes – and he had Sam, and Bobby. Truth be told, Bela didn't even think that he could die. Like – at all! Not in immortal sort of way of course. Everyone was mortal after all, unless they were demons or something else. But he just… couldn't. Because it was wrong. Because it wasn't how it was meant to be. Not like this. So unfair!

And how could Sam let it happen, she wondered. How could he let Dean go? What was he thinking?! How could he fail to find a way out of this mess? Could it be that there really was nothing? But there always was something. Always! Apparently, having him and Bobby around wasn't enough for Dean and, honestly, it surprised Bela even more than her own resurrection, which still was a big mystery, but she couldn't think about everything at the same time, and it suddenly turned out that thinking about Dean was something that she couldn't control.

Bela bit her lip and blinked quickly several times. She wasn't a crier. And, truthfully, crying never was a good idea or a way to solve a problem. Moreover, it made no sense to cry over something that couldn't be changed. Besides, it was embarrassing, too, even when no one was looking. So what if Dean… meant something to her? (Why deny it now?) So what if he was the closest thing she ever had to a friend in her entire life? (Even if he didn't share this opinion because he definitely didn't.) So what if she couldn't even begin to say how much it meant to her that he never let her down? Well, maybe except for that last time, but it was her fault after all. She was blind, and stupid, and too stubbornly determined to stay on her own till the end. (Oh, and look where it led!) Too scared to trust. Okay, maybe not scared exactly. Overly experienced was a better choice of words. And now she lost the only person she…

Sam was right. And no matter how intent she was to prove the contrary – because hell if anyone needed to know what she actually felt! – Bela knew that it was she who practically sent Dean to hell. With her bare hands. And it was that very case when the phrase was nearly literal. Sam was even right about her not deserving to live, she couldn't deny that too. Didn't have anything to say against any accusations he could come up with actually. Should have known better than trusting bloody demons! Knew from the start that every word they said was a lie and still let herself be that easily misled. How could she believe them? Her? That little bitch!

Bela kicked her blankets off and got up cringing at the cold floor beneath her bare feet, as well as at the soft squeak of the floor boards. Her eyes had already got used to the darkness and she could make it through the room without tripping over one thing or another. Bela came up to the window and looked out into the backyard, but there was nothing except for dark shadows and grass which seemed bluish in the moonlight.

So quiet…

Bela leaned her forehead against smooth surface and took a deep breath which came in pretty convulsively, like a sob. "I'm sorry, Dean," she whispered. Felt that her eyes started to burn, and unbidden tears on her cheeks seemed unnaturally hot in contrast with cool glass of the window. "If you can hear me – I'm so sorry. Help me, please. Help me to help you. I can't do it on my own. I don't understand what's going on and I'm so scared. I need you, Dean. Please, don't leave me now."

To be continued…