Author's note: I know, you've been waiting for it :)) Mm, anyone asked for Dean? What do you mean – no one?! *big eyes* Okay, kidding :)) No more words…

Chapter 4

"First of all, bring me normal clothes," Bela demanded in the morning and anything but cringed at the view of herself in the antique mirror which hang on the wall in the living room, and turned away hurriedly.

Wondered in the back of her mind what happened to her clothes and all the stuff she had. And her apartment. Her car… Her collection of priceless antiquities. Sold in auction most likely. Should have bequeathed it all to the Winchesters, she thought ruefully. There were things they could have used. One fine gesture as the last goodbye. Bela seriously hated it that good ideas usually occurred to her when it was too late.

On the other hand, she didn't leave a will or something – optimistically, she never planned to actually die – so chances were she'd find it untouched. Once she had a chance to check it, of course.

"What does it have to do with helping Dean?" Sam hemmed.

"Nothing!" She rolled her eyes. "But it has a lot to do with my sanity. For God's sake, if I can't leave this place, I want to at least feel somewhere close to myself!"

Bobby weighted her words and nodded after a short pause. "Anything else?"

"Porsche? Condo in Malibu?" Sam muttered finishing his coffee but loud enough for everyone – namely Bela – to hear.

"Ouija board would do. Thank you!" With growing irritation.

"Why?"

"Well, I have to start with something, Sam!" Bela cocked her head, hands on her hips, and looked at him somewhat sympathetically, as if he was some imbecile who couldn't understand even the simplest things. And where did that scared like hell girl he saw yesterday go? "What else am I supposed to do if I have no damn idea what the hell is this all about? You might as well be helpful."

Sam glared at her. "You sure you don't remember anything?"

"Oh, of course I remember everything, honey!" She drawled mockingly, voice sweet as sugar, with an emphasis on honey. "I just say that I don't out of wish to piss you off. And because I like it when you get on my nerves asking that question over and over and over again!" Sam blinked. "Are you done with stupid questions? Don't you think I would have told you everything I knew… if I actually knew?"

"What? For free?" He scoffed.

"Consider it a charity."

Bobby stuck his head into the room, looked at the two of them in turns. Noted Sam's balled fists and sharp gaze and Bela's quite relaxed posture, and smirked to himself.

"Sam, you coming?" He called.

"Sure."

"Bela, behave."

"When I didn't?" She snorted, folded her arms on the chest, all insulted pride.

"Well…" he paused. "Never. Anyway, sit tight."

"Like I have a choice," Bela muttered under her breath when the front door closed behind them. She looked around. Spotted piles of books all over the floor, and shelves, and tables, and all other flat surfaces, registered protections symbols drawn everywhere on the walls and even on the ceiling, and huffed in frustration. "Great! And what the hell am I supposed to entertain myself with here?"

"I don't trust her, Bobby," Sam said slamming the passenger's door and buckling his seatbelt.

"Yeah, well, me neither," Bobby admitted and started the engine. Gave his house another long thoughtful look before driving away. "But from where I'm standing, she needs us as much as we need her."

"What are you talking about? From where I'm standing, Bela doesn't need anyone, and never did, unless she wanted to use them and get money – or something else valuable – for it." Sam snorted recalling how many times she played this trick on Dean and him. And how stupid it was of them to buy it over and over again. Fatal mistake.

"Right," Bobby agreed without hesitation having nothing to say against that. "But not now. She's in real danger."

"After all she'd done? No wonder! Strange she lasted that long."

"No," he shook his head. "I'm not talking about that. But, Sam, just imagine how many people, and not only people, would like to find out how she escaped from the pit. Bet most of them won't be as friendly as you and me." Caught Sam's nod. "I'm sure she knows it too. She's not stupid. And that's the only reason why I didn't lock her up in the basement before leaving."

"Tempting. Anyway, we should keep our eyes open."

"I never said we shouldn't. It's Bela after all."

Sam chuckled. "Where are we going?"

"To visit an old friend of mine. She's seriously into this séances and talking to the dead thing." Bobby's lips quirked into a wry smirk. "Guess we need a real talking board, not that toy that people buy for pajama parties."

They drove in silence for several miles.

"Um, Bobby…" Sam started after a while, "what if Bela's right? What if something big happened… like then… and we missed it?"

Bobby didn't reply right away. Watched the road for some time, considering. The crease between his eyebrows deepened. "Could be," he said at last with a sigh. "That's what we have to find out too, Sam," not at all enthusiastic about the possibility of a positive answer.

***

Bela laid the talking board flat on top of the table in the living room. Made Bobby clean it first though, remove all books and notepads and a whole ton of other junk somewhere, which he did unwillingly and with a scowl. Been glaring at her with displeasure all the way through and received a brilliant smile back, all teeth. Knew she did it to piss him off further.

Ouija board that Sam and Bobby brought some three hours later surprised Bela, made her even gasp in awe. It was old, antique and looked very much like the one that she owned. Real one. Powerful. She felt it the moment she touched it, the flow of energy that started streaming up her arms on an instant as if spirits were impatient to share whatever information they had. Restless spirits, she knew it.

Bela sighed and closed her eyes, took several deep breaths and put her fingers lightly on the planchette. Years of experience taught her to do it right – not to close, but it still was a touch. She tried to concentrate, tried to form a question in her head…

And then, "Can you stop it please?" on a frustrated look at Sam and Bobby over her shoulder.

They blinked at her and then exchanged puzzled looks. "Stop what?" Bobby asked cautiously and genuinely confused.

"Burning a hole in my back!" Bela rolled her eyes. "It's not helping the matters, you see. You can come and stand here if you want, just don't…"

"Sorry," Sam cleared his throat. Gave a quick glance to Bobby and then looked at Bela, somewhat apologetically. The first time he treated her not like some devil's reject. She arched her eyebrows but did not comment. Saved it for later.

"Sorry," Bobby echoed.

None of them moved though and Bela turned back to the table with a sigh wishing they'd leave her alone instead. They couldn't help anyway and were only making her even more nervous. Like she wasn't nervous enough by now! Moments away from something.

Bela closed her eyes again and tried to block everything out of her mind, except for the question Who helped me out of hell?

The planchette started moving under her fingers almost immediately. Slowly at first, then more sure as if the force that was actually moving it grew stronger. Stay focused, Bela told herself. Concentrate. They are stronger than you. Don't let them in. Don't let them take control of the situation. You let it happen, you lose, and that's exactly what they want. The answer came right away, and for one crazy moment it seemed to her that it actually came even before she finished the question. Bela frowned. Repeated her question. And then again, and again.

"I don't understand," she lowered herself heavily onto the chair, stared helplessly at Bobby and Sam.

"What is it? What does it say?" Sam was on his feet and at her side the next moment, followed closely by Bobby. Both looking down at her, anything but hopping on the spot from impatience.

"It says – you," Bela bit her lower lip. "That is – me. But I don't… it makes no sense!" Shifted her gaze from one to the other, and then to the board.

"What did you ask?"

She rubbed her forehead. "I asked who helped me to get out. They said – you, as if I did it myself."

"Maybe you should ask it some… other way?" Sam offered.

"No, I tired different combination of words saving the meaning. It didn't help."

"And what if you…" Bobby started.

"I asked about Dean, too," Bela interrupted him causing heavy silence hang in the room. "I asked how to help him. How to get him out." She paused. "The answer was the same and… I don't get it. Swear to God, have no idea what spirits are trying to say."

"Best guess?" Sam asked.

"This thing is broken," she snorted pointing at the Ouija board.

"It can't be broken!" Bobby objected.

"But it is the most logical explanation! You have a better one, I'm all ears."

"You found a way to come back, a spell or something," Sam's intense glance stopped on her face. "Then you paid to someone to perform it after you die, and all this show here with the board and vague answers is just for fun."

"My sense of humor is better than that," she scoffed. "Besides, do I look like I have a bunch of close friends willing to do me such a favor?"

Sam was about to say that this is the last thing he considered possible…

"Wait a minute!" Bobby exclaimed stopping another round of bantering which, truthfully, started driving him crazy a long time ago. "It makes sense… sort of."

Sam and Bela whipped their heads round. "What?" simultaneously.

"Bela, the last thing you thought about before…?" he trailed off and peered at her, even caught his breath in anticipation of an answer, she noted.

I'll see you in hell. I'll see you in hell. I'll see you in hell…His voice growing stronger in her head with each moment.

"The last thing on my mind," almost in a whisper and not looking at any of them, "was that I didn't want to go there so much." Raised her head and met their eyes hoping that she didn't let her emotions slip. Not fully at least. "I didn't want to die. Who would?"

"Exactly!"

"What?" She blinked at him in misunderstanding. "You're kidding, right? I don't think it's about wanting, Bobby. In that case Heaven would quickly lose its appeal – it would get uncomfortably overcrowded."

"No, I'm pretty serious actually," Bobby grimaced, as if he finally looked at the situation from their point of view. "Although I admit that it sounds a bit crazy."

"Mm… a bit?" Bela batted eyelashes at him, voice soft and soothing now, as it was generally considered safe to agree with people who were not in their right mind, whatever they were saying.

This voice made Sam frown. Bobby didn't seem to pay attention though.

"No, I mean it, Bela. None of us can actually use this thing," all three of them looked at the talking board. "There's gotta be something about you."

Bela gawked at him. Oh, this couldn't be happening. She couldn't be hearing that nonsense. Did they stop somewhere on the way back to have a drink or two?

"Or maybe they kicked you out because hell was a too good place for you," Sam suggested. "Should have guessed that from the start," added to himself.

"Then why wouldn't you go and check it yourself?" Bela shot back right away. "Just please don't blind them with that divine light of yours!"

Bobby ignored them both. "Unless you have a better idea, we gotta stick with my plan," on looking at Bela.

"What plan?" She asked suspiciously. Didn't like that gleam in Bobby's eyes. Determination. It never led to anything good when people looked at the world like this. And Bela, all her knowledge and experience assumed, felt an immense urge to flee. Far, far away.

"I'm thinking," he replied. Rubbed his chin and then met Sam's eyes. Damn her imagination, but Bela could have sworn that she saw how a thousand watt bulb turned on and started shining bright in his head. "The Rising!"

"The Rising?" Sam frowned recalling one thing or another in his memory, and then his face lit up.

"The Rising?" Bela repeated after them. An urge to flee grew stronger. "What is that?"

No one seemed pay attention to her question though.

"Right," Sam nodded quickly. Bela could practically hear him thinking. "But, Bobby, it's got to be full moon…"

"Yeah, but it is full moon today."

"You know what?" Bela interjected. "You have fun, boys!" As lightly as she could. Even patted Sam on the shoulder. "But I stay out of this."

"No way!" Bobby grumbled. "You're a V.I.P. guest."

***

It was an old and long abandoned cemetery at the very border of the town. The one where no one came to visit the graves of their friends or loved ones because they either didn't care any more, or were dead themselves. Most crosses and tombstones were lopsided or damaged, braided with ivy – dry at this time of the year. The paths between them had been last cleaned decades ago. Thick layer of dead leaves on them was now making the whole place look even more sad and forgotten.

The three of them occupied a 200-year old marble crypt with a long broken off rusty iron gate, which initially was supposed to keep the intruders away. Well, not everything in this world was working the way it was meant to be.

Bobby, Sam and Bela stood around the stone tomb covered with black cloth, like an altar or something. The place would have been completely dark if it wasn't for three wax candles, one before each of them.

"Why always a cemetery?" Bela muttered under her breath and shook her head as Nothing when Bobby gave her a questioning look. No, seriously, why couldn't these bloody rituals require a sunny day and a beautiful park for once? Why dealing with the other side always meant darkness and goose bumps and this feeling like you've been watched by someone invisible? It was simply beyond her.

Their faces looked weird and rather creepy in the flickering light, which also caused strangely formed shadows dancing on the walls and the ceiling. But despite all gravity of the situation Bela suddenly felt a wish to giggle, and had to bite her lip to resist it. Nerves, she told herself. All these spider-webs all over the place and a couple hundred dead people around made her feel slightly anxious. Not to mention all this ritual thing in general.

"Let's try the…" Sam started in a whisper as if the sound of his voice could actually disturb the corpses. Cleared his throat and finished louder, "the easier way." And added when Bela arched her brows in silent What? "Try to… um, wish for Dean to come back."

She snorted but it was quiet enough for Sam and Bobby to miss it. Wish for Dean to come back, she mimicked him mentally. Did he really think that it was something like making a wish on blowing the candles on a birthday cake? Or like she had a magic wand and only needed to wave it slightly for her wish to come true.

"Okay," Bela drawled. Looked at Bobby and Sam in turns – wanted to roll her eyes at their so obviously expecting expressions. "I want Dean Winchester to come back from hell." All three of them held their breath, but nothing happened. Of course. "You didn't really expect anything, did you?" Paused. "Plan B?"

"Well…" Sam and Bobby exchanged disappointed look, and Bela nearly laughed – they really waited for Dean to appear out of thin air? Ridiculous! Even assuming their sphere of… hm, business. "Let's do it once again." Almost with a plea. "Just… concentrate this time. Maybe you should close your eyes or something?"

Bela hemmed skeptically, huffed in frustration, more for show than anything else. But it was still a waste of time unless they had a better plan. Honestly, she didn't believe even for a moment that it could actually lead somewhere. She wanted to help, really wished she could do something – even though there was no need for Sam and Bobby to know it. But this? C'mon! Okay, she knew that ghosts, and demons, and psychics were real – met them all once or twice in her past, and it was fine. After all they were part of her business – nonexistent business, Bela reminded herself. But she couldn't make herself start thinking that she was one of them from now on!

But she did what Sam offered nonetheless. Closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to clear her mind. Tried to forget about the glances of her companions which were almost as tangible as a touch, and made an attempt to focus on Dean. Oh, as if she wasn't thinking about him every single moment! Bela used the same tick she was using when working with the talking board – tried to attune herself to the energy of the spirits, with the exception that now she had a specific spirit – person? – to look for, which was a serious advantage in this particular case.

It wasn't hard to see Dean's face in her mind, green eyes looking back at her with boyish curiosity and a trademark smirk playing lazily on his lips.

And once she let that flow of memories into her head, the same energy started running through her body like when she was talking to the other side. It felt weird now, without the board, but Bela ignored her emotions in favor of maintaining the contact.

The brightest of all memories came right away. The one from the Maritime Museum party, or from before the party, to be precise. Bela was fully intended to make fun of it back then – have good time, steal the hand, get money and flee without so much as goodbye. Imagined that the brothers would be furious. It had always been like this, nothing new, but still exciting.

But then Dean Winchester came downstairs in that bloody tux looking as uncomfortable and uneasy as one only could… and her heart skipped a beat. Like, really! She caught her breath even, totally despite herself. It happened for the first time in years – or maybe for the first time ever – and it left her confused and wondering. Something so different from business, from buying and selling. Something new and… human? And when she offered having angry sex – to tease Dean more than anything because it still was fun to piss him off, and also to cover her own unexpected reaction, which seemed to Bela so awkwardly obvious that she simply couldn't leave it like this – he blushed! Honest to God blush! It was so sweet, so Dean-unlike. Made her heart jump and start beating twice faster, and it scared her like hell. Like no monster ever did.

Bela smiled softly to herself at the memory not giving a damn about Sam's and Bobby's attention. If – if! – Dean accepted her offer back then, she'd send to hell the party, and Gert with her soft spot for Sam Winchester, and a hand of glory, and this damn lot of money she planned to get for it. She'd send to hell the whole world without hesitation!

The thought amused Bela, although it was sad amusement. She was like a school girl who kept getting on the boy's nerves like it was the best way to show him that she wasn't indifferent. Well, maybe she had gone too far with Gordon, should have called and warned them after all. It was probably too harsh even for her. This maniac could have really killed them. But she didn't mean to be a real enemy to the Winchesters, didn't mean to harm them in any way. What she really wanted was companionship, friendship… and a chance for something else. Or a hint for a chance. And Bela was showing it the best way she could, not that she had any experience in such things.

But then there was the first thing I'm gonna do is kill you; you make me sick with so much hatred that it felt like a solid punch in the gut; and if you would just come to us sooner and asked for help, we probably could have taken the colt and saved you… Consequences of her mistakes, more killing than a shot in the heart.

It squeezed her lungs, formed a burning lump in her throat. Bela's eyes flew open, she made several sharp intakes of breath.

"I can't do it," she announced with panic, caused by who knew what. Perhaps it was actual inability to help because – seriously! – she wasn't a psychic or something. Or maybe it was her own reaction to her memories that freaked her out. Probably both. Whatever! Did it matter anyway?

The energy was still running through her entire body. And right now Bela just wanted it to stop. It never felt like this before, not once, and she didn't know what to think about it, except that it was very wrong.

"No, no! You were doing fine!" Sam assured her hurriedly. And, okay, Bela got it that he was seeing what he wanted to see, but this was such an absurd! Starting from the part where she actually was doing nothing.

"Really?" She cocked her head and anything but snapped. "Fine – how?" And then in a whoosh of breath, "This is insane."

The crypt suddenly became too small and stuffy, and Bela felt an immense urge to get out and into fresh air. Fighting the inexplicable dizziness, she made an attempt to concentrate on Sam's voice, which was coming to her like through a thick layer of cotton, or from the distance. Generally, it made no difference.

"Bobby and I… we found this ritual," Bela heard and did her best to process the words in her mind, but the energy seemed to be growing inside of her, a bright whirlpool with images from the past flashing every now and then. Too damn hard to think about anything else. "It's called The Rising, or something like that," Sam continued, obviously unaware of her slightly – ha! – distracted state. "We tried to perform it a month ago, right after Dean… was gone, but…" he paused. "But it didn't work because apparently it required some… power, and now with you…" there was no need for him to finish the phrase.

"And you think that I…" Bela began. It was definitely not right that the walls started spinning like some bloody merry-go-round. And could anyone turn off those bright spots flashing before her eyes?

The train of her thought was rudely interrupted by muffled sound coming somewhere from outside. The rustle of leaves, but not the same as moments ago, as if beneath someone's feet although it was impossible to make out footsteps or something.

All three of them whipped their heads towards the entrance. Bela saw out of the corner of her eye that Bobby reached for his gun. She swallowed hard. And, by the way, where was this noise coming from? Oh, right, it was in her head. Brilliant! The strange tension inside of her kept on growing making her suspect that it was going to explode and, truth be told, it worried Bela a lot more than anything else at the moment.

The gate squeaked, and it sounded almost unbearably loud in this stillness and silence. Dark figure appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" A painfully familiar – and a tad annoyed! – voice followed.

Two steps more, and Dean Winchester – in the flesh! – came into light.

Sam gasped and forgot to breathe out, his eyes grew so wide that it was surprising how they didn't pop out of his scull, literary. Bobby dropped his jaw, as well as his gun, which hit the marble floor and slid away to the wall.

"Fuck, this headache is killing," Dean complained with a wince. "Can anyone tell me why am I having it anyway?" He looked at Sam, obviously expecting to hear an answer, but then his gaze slid past his still stunned brother and fixed on Bela who stood at the tomb gawking at him pretty dumbly, maybe even with her mouth open, but not quite caring about it. Dean nearly choked on a stumble and narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is this thieving bitch doing here?!" He anything but bellowed and pointed his finger at her, all manners as always.

Dignity still somewhere there, Bela scowled – through the rush of relief and unjustified happiness though. Didn't bother to think about how right now. "Manners, Dean! This bitch," she mimicked him with a huff, "has just dragger your worthless ass out of the hell pit!" If the most stupid theory in the world really works, she added mentally. "Oh, but don't mention it!"

She made a small step forward to keep her balance when another wave of dizziness covered her, and then everything suddenly went black before her eyes. The last thing she saw before passing out was Dean's quickly approaching and overly confused face.

To be continued…