In All Our Bones (So Scared to be Alone) - For nalakaori_chan
Author/Artist: scorpiod1
Recipient: nalakaori_chan
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spoilers for Season 3, especially 3.15 Time is on My Side. Angry, rough sex. Angst.
Pairing: Jo/Bela
Summary: Jo didn't really know Bela at all, not even after everything.
Notes: Beta'd by the lovely coyotesuspect! Title taken from the Iron & Wine song, Passing Afternoon. I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing this!
The cops didn’t say it was Bela, but Jo knew. She had learned how to track down Bela Talbot, recognized the alias she would use, memorized all her tricks and trades. Months of following Bela, making sure she’d never get the drop on her again, deciphering her coded language had taught her that.
She didn’t know Bela Talbot, not really. But she knew enough.
Jo knew enough to know that the broken, ripped-open body belonged to Bela.
~~~~~~~~~
The first time Jo met Bela Talbot, the bitch took a shot at her while Jo made off with a book Bela had stolen.
So really, it was only fair that the next time they met, Jo held a knife to her throat and threatened to kill her.
Jo shoved Bela against the wall when she snuck into Jo’s motel room, her father’s knife pressed tight against the intruder’s throat.
“What?” Jo sneered. “You thought I wouldn’t be prepared for you?”
“Oh, you’re smarter than you look, aren’t you?” Bela didn’t flinch at all at the steel pressed into her neck, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
“You shoot at me, at my car, and I’m not supposed to expect any more trouble? Yeah, right.” Jo’s lips quirked into a humorless grin, like the glint of a knife’s edge and just as dangerous.
“Who are you?” She demanded.
Bela smirked. “You know, you won’t really cut my throat. I know you hunters. You’re one of the good guys.”
Jo pressed the blade tighter. “You don’t know anything about me, if you really knew anything about hunters, you’d know about half of them are bug-fuck crazy.”
“But you’re not, are you, Jo Harvelle? You’re not that hard to research. Twenty-two years old, grew up in a piss-poor town in Nebraska in some decrepit little place called Harvelle’s Roadhouse that blew up not too long ago, college drop-out with a dead hunter father-”
Jo’s fist moved with a quick, resounding snap across Bela’s face. Bela did flinch at that, eyes wary and wide as her composure was shocked away.
“You don’t talk about my father, ever, got that?” Jo growled.
Bela stared warily, nodded ever so slightly and then her features slid back into perfectly calm and collected.
“I’m Bela Talbot.” She said finally, her mouth quirking into an arrogant grin. “Heard of me?”
“Nope.”
She sighed. “For a hunter, you really need to do more research.”
“Guess you’re just not that special.”
Bela didn’t like that, judging from the way the grin dropped of her face.
“I want the book.” She stated finally.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jo said.
Bela scoffed. “Please, the one you stole from me? The witch’s Book of Shadows?”
“Oh yeah,” Jo drew the word out. “You mean the one I took back from you after you stole it first?”
“It’s not stealing if the owner is dead.” Bela stated, then gave Jo a self-satisfied smile. “Of course, I have no problem with stealing.”
“Another reason not to like you, how nice.” Jo spat. “I remember the book. I burned it.” She couldn’t hide the smile that spread across her face at Bela’s shocked expression.
Bela frowned. “You wouldn’t have time to have burned it.”
“It wasn’t that hard. I’m a hunter you know, I’m very good with fire.”
Bela gave her a long, cold state. The anger there made Jo want to take a step back, reconsider her options. But she had Bela cornered already and she wasn’t about to let her get away.
Besides, she was pissing Jo off.
“Very well then. I have no business here. Let me go.”
Jo shook her head. “No. If you have such a reputation, I think I should keep you here and make some calls, see what exactly hunters think of you, because there’s no way I’m letting you go-”
Jo could have kicked herself when she saw the gun Bela had pulled out. It was a rookie mistake, something she’d trained herself out of years ago. Months ago at the very least, back when a possessed Sam Winchester got the drop on her and Jo learned that she had to watch out for everyone, even friends.
She was better than this now.
“See, if you’ve done your research, you’d know I always come armed. Now, let me go.”
Jo seethed. She wanted to hit things, Bela most of all. She thought of maybe taking the gun from Bela-she knew she could, she was capable of that-but Jo didn’t like her odds. She thought of trying anyway, for her pride if anything else, because no way, no way, does someone one up on her like that. But it didn’t seem like a good enough reason to risk her life.
Jo decided that she rather hated Bela Talbot.
Swallowing her pride, Jo stepped aside, glaring daggers at Bela all the while, her mouth set in a hard line. She went out with an agreeable smile, perfectly polite. “Thank you, Jo.”
Jo wanted to punch her face in.
After that encounter, Jo did some research. And she was ready next time.
~~~~~~~~~
There was no one to claim the body. Bela Talbot had been officially labeled a Jane Doe. And it wasn’t like they could run finger prints; Bela had burned them off already.
It hadn’t been hard to pose as an FBI investigator to get in the coroner’s office, just another trick Jo had picked up.
What was hard was to look too closely at Bela’s body, ripped to damn near unrecognizable shreds but just enough skin and tissue and flesh left for Jo distinguish who she was.
Jo sucked in a breath, willing herself not to vomit. She had a strong stomach, hunting for over a year had given her that, but it was different when it was someone she knew.
Even if it was someone Jo was never particularly fond of.
“Not very pretty, is she, ma’am?”
Jo shook her head. “What do you think was the cause of death?” Jo managed to regain control of her voice, calm and collected.
“Animal attack,” the coroner said. “Completely vicious. Dogs most likely. Maybe coyotes or wolves.”
“Hard to find wolves around these parts, isn’t it?” Jo wondered. “How they would get into a motel unnoticed? Without the door ever opening and closing.”
Of course the death was supernatural. Like Bela would ever die a normal death. Not her. Not people like them.
The coroner shrugged. “It’s a mystery. Isn’t that your job to find out?”
Jo nodded. “Yeah,” she said grimly. “It is.”
The earlier trip to Bela’s own hotel room, the one that led her to deduce Bela was missing and led to her body, revealed nothing; It had been easy to find the hotel room, of course; just follow one of the aliases Bela would use, a trail invisible to all but her, until Jo hit something. But understanding what the fuck was going on was a lot harder.
Jo had managed to salvage Bela’s IDs, emergency money, and personal effects under the guise of a missing person’s investigation but it did no good. Just a bunch of random, scattered notes, one of which had led Jo to the motel where Bela’s body had been discovered. Was it a theft gone wrong? Or deal or money exchanged that had blown up in Bela’s face for once?
It didn’t take long for Jo to decide that she needed more information.
~~~~~~~~
Jo tracked down Bela to a hotel bar in New York City, a bright and glowing, respectable establishment. A rather classy joint, with fancy purple drinks and a well-dressed bartender who called you Miss, the place painted with black and white tones, like something out of an art gallery. Jo hated the place. It didn’t have the feel of home that Harvelle’s Roadhouse had, the sense of familiarity and comfort, the smell of whiskey and sawdust in the air. Instead, all Jo could smell was lavender air freshener. It was just a cold steel bar, totally anonymous.
Jo felt completely out of place here, with her faded blue jeans, her mane of hair she’d barely ran a comb through and tied up in a ponytail, her lack of make-up and extravagance. Nothing at all like Bela Talbot, who wore a slinky blue dress, even at the hotel bar, sitting at the counter and sipping a martini. She looked like she was straight out of a Bond movie.
“Bela Talbot.” Jo announced, standing behind her, arms crossed.
It pleased her immensely to see a look of shock and bewilderment on her face as Bela realized who was talking to her.
Jo smirked. “Bela Talbot, wanted thief. Suspected in dozens of crimes, quite a few of them international. The FBI has a file a mile long on you and don’t even get me started on Interpol. And that’s not even counting the stuff they don’t know about.” Jo waltzed up to a seat and sat down, planting her foot on Bela’s stool. It earned a distasteful glace from Bela, like Jo was fly who had landed in her soup.
“In addition, you’ve built up quite the reputation within the hunter community. Namely, as a cold-hearted selfish bitch of a thief, who plays around far too much with the occult for comfort and with a tendency to shoot if she doesn’t get her way. How am I doing so far?”
Bela cocked up a perfectly primped eyebrow.
“Are you following me? I’m flattered.”
Jo shrugged, a sardonic smirk stretched across her lips. “You’re the one who got away. It bothered me.”
“Any particular reason why you’re here, or do you just get your kicks from annoying me?”
The smile faded from Jo’s lips. “I really should kill you.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Witnesses.”
Bela laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, seeming as if she knew things Jo didn’t, had an advantage over her. “Oh please, you’re not even armed.”
“Oh, Bela, I am always armed.”
Bela gave her an once-over. “You snuck a weapon in here? With this security?”
Jo couldn’t help but smile, proud of her self. “I’m good at what I do.”
“Well, so am I.” Bela stated. “Exceedingly good. You’ll have a difficult time killing me, sweet pea. And isn’t killing human beings against your hunter code or something?”
“One, you know jack shit about my hunter code or whatever. Two, it isn’t like I could just hand you over the police.”
Jo snatched the olive from Bela’s martini, relishing the annoyed expression on her face, the way her eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened. “You have far too many contacts and aces up your sleeves to just go quietly into custody. That leaves me only one option.”
Bela stared, and the scornful humor or irritation in her expression, turned into something blank and calculating. For a moment, Jo was sure Bela would attack, gearing up to go for her knife. The hairs were standing up at the back of her neck and adrenaline began flowing through her already.
Then Bela smiled, completely derisively.
“You are a good person, Joanna Beth Harvelle. That’s your problem.”
Jo glared. The wasted opportunity to fight left her with her heart pounding and fingers itchy.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she repeated.
“And neither do you.” Bela said. “C’mon sweetie, I’ll buy a drink. Reward your impetuousness.”
“I am not taking anything from you, fuck you very much.”
“Language, sweetheart.”
“Do not call me sweetheart.”
Bela looked at her like she was the most adorable thing ever. It enraged Jo.
“Well, Jo, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Bela slinked off, the dress fluttering behind like a wind was blowing through it.
Jo exhaled, trying to relax into the seat. She shifted her feet and legs around, unable to be tranquil. She was fidgety. No way could she sit still, not right now.
She stared at Bela as she got into an elevator. Jo already knew what room Bela was in, from her earlier research.
She bit her lip, debating whether or not to follow her. She really shouldn’t. There was no good reason for it. Jo couldn’t think of anything she could gain from it. And Jo wasn’t sure if she would be able to stand look of satisfaction on Bela’s face. What Jo should do is go back to her motel room, call someone to help her take care of this problem with her. Just go back to her empty motel room and keep herself from picking at Bela.
But Jo hated leaving this with Bela getting in the last word. Perhaps there was something else here, too, something rubbing Jo the wrong way, prickling in the back of her mind.
Jo sighed and promptly went in after her.
**********
Bela had answered the door in a towel. Apparently, Jo had caught her just as she was getting out of the shower. Apparently.
Bela smiled, pleased. Jo suddenly thought of just leaving right away, because she didn’t really like pleasing Bela. She preferred pissing her off.
“I didn’t think you would actually show up.” Bela said.
Jo shrugged as non-committal as possible. “Well, I’m just full of surprises.”
Bela looked her up and down, examining her and Jo really didn’t like the smile that grew wider on Bela’s face. “I’m sure you are. Come in.” She turned her back on Jo as she walked back into the room.
The towel barely covered her ass. Jo cocked up an eyebrow, slightly stunned, but attempting to hide it. But of course, she wouldn’t put it pass Bela to just be screwing around with her. And God forbid Jo let on that it was working.
Against her better judgment, Jo walked in and shut the door behind her.
“Wow. Real fancy. Do you really need all this?”
To be honest, Jo actually kinda liked all of the splendor, once she got past the unfamiliarity of it. She could never live in it permanently, but it would make a nice vacation, a place to rest her mind and soul. She just hated having it associated with Bela Talbot.
“I enjoy the finer things in life.”
“The finer things are overrated, if you ask me. This place is giving me the hives.”
“I didn’t. And you’re free to leave, if you like.”
God, that would be a smart. Get out, get Bela arrested, and stop worrying about her. Call Mom for help, call Bobby, call the fucking Winchesters if she had to. Just stop thinking about her and close the book on the bitch. But she didn’t. Jo had no idea why. She couldn’t put her finger on it, couldn’t understand why she was drawn here.
“I don’t even know why I’m here.” Jo growled.
Bela leaned against the door, her towel coming close to sliding off and Jo’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the way the cloth moved over her.
“As I said, you can leave if you like.” Bela repeated, an expectant look on her face.
Jo stared, her eyes narrowed at the woman. Her heart was still pounding from the adrenaline, body fidgeting for a fight or something. Jo took a deep breath and crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall.
“I’m staying,” she said firmly. God knows why. Jo came up here for a reason, but fuck if she knew what it was.
Bela smirked at her, like she’d won a prize, or just stolen a particularly good product; like Jo was the object she’d won, a high-value token. It was the sort of look that made Jo wanna punch her in the face.
“Still want that drink?”
“No.”
“So you’re just here to glare at me? Good to know.”
“What do you want?” Jo finally blurted out.
“So direct,” Bela chuckled. “You don’t have an ounce of subtly, do you?”
“The question is, what do you want, Joanna?” The use of her full name was deliberate, Jo knew; a tactic to anger Jo, make her squirm and lash out and reveal something. Bela was a conwoman and Jo knew enough about cons to recognize tricks they used, to know when someone was trying to play her.
But that didn’t prepare Jo for Bela Talbot getting closer and closer in her personal space, trying to make Jo step back, to intimidate. Jo refused, stood her ground; she was always stubborn.
But pride didn’t stop Jo from taking a deep breath, from the way her heart started beating just a little bit faster and her body grew warm. Bela in nothing but a towel, wet and dripping certainly didn’t help any.
“Why are you here? What do you possibly have to gain?”
Jo’s mouth quirked into a smirk. “I guess I was just bored.” It’s bullshit, even Jo could tell, the flimsiest excuse Jo could think of straight-away.
Bela walked closer and this time Jo did back away because any closer, they would have been touching.
“You’re in a selfish bitch’s room because you’re bored?”
Good point. But she was already here. No sense in going back to her empty room, by herself again.
There was no sense to everything, these days.
“Well, it’s better than stealing and shooting people when you’re bored.” Jo fired back.
“Oh sweetheart, I steal for profit and if it happens to be fun in the process, well, can you blame a girl for enjoying her job?”
“I’m not a sweetheart.” Jo growled out. Really, the only person who got to call her that was mom.
“You’re right.” Bela smiled “I bet you’re a tart. You certainly have sour look on your face.”
Before Jo could respond, Bela got in so close, their noses were practically touching. She placed her hands on Jo’s chest, still wet, just above her breasts.
“I bet you taste like one, too.” She licked her lips. Intent was unmistakable
Jo would have sighed. She would have closed her eyes at the feel of a lover touching her. That’s what this should feel like, that’s what sex is supposed to feel like. Warm and happy and comfortable. But this wasn’t a lover, it was Bela and no fucking way Jo was shutting her eyes and turning her back on her.
“Do you trust me?” Bela whispered, her hands running down Jo’s body like a silken cloth, soft all but the nails scrapping lightly down, a promise of things to come.
“No.” Jo whispered. “Not at all.” She grabbed Bela’s head, pulling it towards her and kissed her roughly, biting and licking at her lips until they were swollen and marked. Bela tasted bitter and sharp, like citrus tang, the bite of alcohol and the sting of anger and conflict.
Bela gave it all what for, and then some, kissing hard and shoving Jo up against the wall, Jo’s body pressed up against hers, molding into her curves. Her towel loosened with the motion, and Jo took the moment to pull it off, too busy with Bela’s mouth to properly look.
Jo reached out, Bela’s skin still damp from the shower, hands skimming across the shoulders, her collar-bone, all the way down to her breasts, so perfect and full in her hands.
She had never done this before. Jo’s had sex with enough men to know what felt good and what didn’t, but she has never done anything like this with a woman. Oh sure, she’s thought about it, the midnight curiosities of a sixteen-year-old, as her hand moved furiously between her legs on her bed but that was all that was, fantasies with nameless faces because no one at school interested her, all them too normal to relate to, let alone to fuck. Bela had on up on them for that; who would have thought it?
Jo’s fingers experimentally pulled at Bela’s nipples, hard and pointed, either from the cold or arousal but who cared? The end result was the same, a gasp from Bela’s mouth as she broke the kiss and pulled away, breathing deep. Jo just had to stare.
Bela’s body glistened, water running down her breasts, her stomach taut, neatly trimmed hair at the apex of her legs, thighs Jo wanted to spread open and look in between. She was gorgeous, and it was almost enough to make Jo forget what a bitch she was.
“You like, sweetheart?” She said, with a prematurely satisfied smirk on her mouth, so very full of herself. Jo had half a mind to walk out, slam the door shut and leave Bela wet and wanting. It’d be what she deserved.
But the sight of a nude Bela, however smug and however much Jo wanted to wring her neck, made something lurch within her, her cunt tightened and grew warm and slick. Jo couldn’t remember when the last time she got laid was, when the last time she let herself touch another human being, feel warmth and comfort and reassure herself she was still human, still alive. There’s nothing comfortable about Bela, but fuck, it was something more than she had. At the moment, Jo didn’t give a shit that this was Bela Talbot, a thief with no morals who had shot at her, all she wanted to do was get off and fuck her. Jo wanted to do this.
Jo smirked, challenging. She didn’t even notice that she’d taken on a predatory stance, tilting her head down and getting ready to pounce.
“I’m not your sweetheart,” she growled, stalking forward to grab Bela, mouth meeting hers in a rough, almost defiant kiss. The gauntlet had been thrown. Jo didn’t even notice them falling on the bed until her body was pressed up tight against Bela, warm and firm, her bare breasts pressed against Jo’s clothed ones. Jo wanted to slide her fingers in Bela’s warm cunt just to see what it would feel like. She wanted to hold her down even more.
Bela managed to pull her hands away. “You are wearing far too many clothes for this.” She pulled Jo’s jacket off easily, making short work of her shirt and bra next. It took some clever maneuvering but soon Jo was down only to her underwear.
“White cotton panties, Jo? How adorable.”
Jo responded by getting her mouth on Bela’s nipple and biting down, her hand squeezing and massaging the other one. Jo relished the moan Bela made, high and surprised, head thrown back, the least-well put together Bela’s had ever in her presence.
Bela continued to groan under Jo’s mouth, her hips grinding upwards, wordlessly asking for more, but Jo stuck to working over her breasts; her mouth alternating between licking, sucking and biting, roaming fingers pinching and pulling at her nipples roughly, almost punishingly but fuck, Bela loved it, if the noises she made were anything to go by. Hell, Jo loved it; her hands weren’t even touching Bela’s cunt and she was already moaning for her; it was the best pleasure Jo could get out of this, not an orgasm but to know she’d reduced Bela Talbot to this quivering mess.
So it took Jo completely by surprise when Bela grabbed Jo by the hair and tugged her up roughly, sitting them both up so Jo was on her knees in front of her and Bela’s mouth went to Jo’s neck, biting down hard enough to make Jo gasp and shudder.
“Oh Jo, you’re so pretty,” she whispered, her tongue licking the bruised skin then biting down again and Jo gave an embarrassingly loud moan.
“You look so sweet,” Bela said in this low, sex-sultry voice that went straight to Jo’s clit, throbbing.
“I bet you’re anything but,” Bela hissed, punctuating it with another bite.
Bela’s hand went to Jo’s breasts, cupping them, all small and perky nipples, rolling and messaging them in her hands, gentle one moment and pinching viciously the next. She had Jo holding down gasps and high moans in her throat, some escaping as whimpers and that was almost worse. That brought a wide grin to Bela’s face, the kind Jo wanted to wipe off either with violence or sex.
Jo moved to bat Bela’s hand away, to tackle her down again and go for her cunt this time, make Bela writhe and scream underneath her and hear her come, begging Jo for more.
But Bela moved too quick and when her fingers brushed up against Jo’s clit, her brain damn near short-circuited.
“Oh god, you are so wet. You’re just dripping. All for me, Jo?”
And before Jo could protest, Bela slid her fingers inside, scissoring and crooking within.
“Oh,” Jo moaned, arching back involuntarily, her hips canting forward.
“You like this, sweetheart?” Bela whispered, and Jo couldn’t even protest the nickname, her fingers moving in so deep, so good, fuck.
“You like how I fuck you? You like my fingers fucking you open, sweetheart?” Bela moaned in her ear, fingers going harder, faster, with just a hint of pain and pressure.
“You sure seem to be, Jo, you’re so bloody wet, it’s so easy to slide my fingers into you. I thought you didn’t like me?”
The smug smirk was evident in her voice and Jo didn’t even care, just pushing into Bela’s fingers felt amazing, far more amazing that it should be. And god, Bela’s thumb on her clit was going to drive her crazy, rubbing just right against her, sending sparks fly behind Jo’s eyes. She couldn’t stand it, was making low, animal noises in her throat, wasn’t sure if she could stay kneeling like this for long because she was sure she would fall over soon and come apart.
“You know, if you don’t answer, I can’t know if I’m doing this right.” Her fingers slowed down and her thumb stopped moving all together. “Maybe I should stop.”
“No,” Jo gasped. “Don’t.” She said, spreading her legs farther apart, trying to get Bela’s fingers deeper. She couldn’t stop now.
Bela leaned in, mouth breathing against her ear and licking the lobe just slightly. “Beg me first, darling.”
“Go to hell,” Jo muttered and Bela bit down on her neck again, actually painful this time, almost vicious.
“Oh, fuck you,” Jo said, grabbing Bela’s hand and forcing the fingers in there, moving so that Jo was fucking herself on Bela’s hand, squeezing around them, liquid heat pooling in Jo’s stomach and spine already, fire burning through her body.
Her breath was coming in short pants, quick and ragged. Jo came with a wrecked moan, dignity and pride forgotten for the moment, shivering through it like she was going to fly apart, until finally Jo was just happy and sex-sated. And then she noticed the arrogant gleam in Bela’s eye, looking at Jo like she was a fucking trophy and Jo came back to her senses.
“God, Jo. You’re so easy. I didn’t even have to work hard for that.”
“Fuck you.”
“I believe I just did.”
Jo glared, her eyes narrowed. Bela looked like the very picture of satisfaction, the cat that got the cream and ate the canary as well. She lounged on the bed, looking perfectly composed on the white silk sheets, save of course, for a telling flush on her face and body, her hard nipples, the strong heady scent in the air of arousal.
In a flash, Jo seized Bela roughly, spreading her thighs apart and getting her mouth on Bela’s clit before she could do anything to stop it.
Bela moaned, caught completely by surprise grabbing Jo’s hair and pushing her head down, but Jo smacked the hand away and stopped moving.
“You do that, and I’m gonna get up and walk away and leave you here alone.”
Bela’s face fixed itself into a terse expression. “You little bitch.”
Jo smiled pleasantly. “Takes one to know one.”
Bela stared for a moment, then drew her hands back up until they were above her head, mockingly smiling at her. “Happy now, love?”
Jo slid a finger in as answer, deep and so wet, god, Bela was amazingly wet and soft, constricting around her. It was almost surprising, really, a contradiction on her mind that Bela should be soft anywhere.
“Very,” Jo said, sliding it in and out slowly, marveling at the feel of it, at the way Bela’s breath caught in her throat when Jo nudged a finger in a certain direction.
“Oh come now, Jo, don’t tease,” Bela groaned, and then gasped as Jo inserted another finger, tighter now.
“Jesus,” Jo breathed. Then, louder, “Gonna beg me, Bela?” She smirked. “It’s only fair, you know.”
“Oh, Jo, yes,” she whimpered, and Jo glanced up to see Bela’s eyes shut, mouth hanging open, flicking and playing with her own nipples as she rolled her body upwards, thrusting against Jo’s mouth. The sight excited Jo and she felt herself gearing up for round two already. She worked faster, furiously, fingers going in and out rougher than necessary, her mouth going back to suck and hum inexpertly around Bela’s clit and that was all it took for Bela to break apart.
When Bela came, she shook and shuddered, squeezing around Jo’s fingers, her hand gripping Jo’s shoulder tight enough to leave bruises and the sight took Jo’s breath away. For a split second, Bela looked open and honest, an utterly different person; her eyes were shut, mouth open wide in an almost soundless O. Jo would savor the sounds she made, the small little whimpers and gaps, replay them over and over in her head for days to come.
And if Bela maybe whispered Jo’s name during it, Jo would put that in a blackmail box for later, another trick to use against her. It didn’t mean anything.
Bela relaxed, slumping down on the bed, skin slick with a sheen of sweat and hair in a disarray, her composure lost momentarily; it made Jo grin. God knows what Jo looked like, bright red blush and blond hair sticking out all over the place from her pony tail.
She took a look at Bela, licking her fluids off her lips and cocking her head to the side. Jo couldn’t help herself.
“That’s it? You’re tired? Cause I could go another round, easy.”
Bela glared for a moment, which morphed into a grin that held a promise and a determination for victory.
Challenge issued.
Later, Jo left in the middle of the night, dressing in record time and sneaking out while Bela was in the bathroom. She walked away from Bela Talbot without a word, determined to never let last night’s actions happen again.
Yeah, that went well, didn’t it?
*********
Whenever Bela used pet names like sweetheart or darling, they were never affectionate. It was never a lover’s moniker for her, sweetness whispered in her ear but rather a patronizing term, designed to irritate and madden Jo, designed to make Jo throw Bela onto the bed and fuck her until she screamed, fuck until they were both raw and empty.
Bela Talbot slipped under Jo’s skin easily, invading her while she rung moans and orgasms out of her. She poked and tore at Jo’s defenses, raising her hackles up. Sex could just as easily become a heated argument, or a contest to see who came first, the loser going home with her tail tucked in between her legs. It could become a battle of wills, both women fighting to top, rolling around on the floor like animals, tearing at each other with fierce kisses and sharp bites, pinching nipples and rough fingers sliding in.
Or it could just be sex, Jo biting hard at Bela’s skin, loving the moans and the trembling of her body or Bela grabbing Jo by the hair and shoving her down between her legs for her to lick and suck until Bela came and Jo’s mouth covered in her juices. Jo got revenge by straddling Bela and kissing her wet and dirty, showing her just exactly what she tasted like.
Their conversations were laced with a sharpness, the possibility of violence and sex underneath their words, razor-sharp and lined with barb wire, and cutting deep like it as well.
Jo didn’t know why she kept coming back. She didn’t know why Bela came back either. It wasn’t like they were friends. They were-they were-Jo didn’t know a word for them.
Jo supposed she just got tired of staring at the ugly motel room walls everyday, of nothing but scorching heat and freezing winters and lonely plains that went on as long as the eye could see, of the unforgiving hunt, of hearing nothing but her mother’s voice on the other end on the phone line. Bela was bad company but she was present nonetheless.
Sometimes, Jo thought that Bela was tired too, just wanted a change of scenery for once and Jo just happened to be the prettiest shade of paint.
After awhile, Jo got tired of their constant push-pull, their “fight or fuck” way of getting along. But Jo didn’t want to stop, had gotten used to their twisted relationship and Jo had no fucking clue why. It was better than being alone, she supposed. And Bela didn’t move to stop either.
So they kept going.
There was no way she would ever show Bela anything more this.
There was no way Bela would have anything more to her than this.
You could see Jo’s scars, written clearly across her body, testament to all her hunts, to her own power and strength and will. Sometimes, Jo wondered if Bela’s scars went so deep, all the way down to her bare bones, hidden and locked down tight, like skeletons she’d be trying to hide from everyone.
But Jo only wondered on a good day. Other times, she was too busy fighting with Bela to care.
*******
Once, Bela brought up tying Jo up with her collection of scarves.
“Fuck you.” Was Jo’s immediate response.
“Well, yes, that is the intention.” Bela said.
“Fuck you, no,” Jo repeated. “No way I’m letting you tie me up.”
“I’m hurt,” she said, except she sounded more amused than hurt. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Not on my life.”
It was silent, echoing all around Jo like bitter winter cold. For a moment, Jo wondered if she had hurt Bela, if Bela had any actual feelings to hurt.
“Besides, would you let me tie you up?” she added.
“Absolutely not.” Bela scoffed. “You’d hang up the do not disturb sign and leave me there for days.”
Jo smirked without an ounce of humor. “Exactly.”
*******
Bela was slick steel, a cold ice queen, perfectly poised and coiffed. Jo hated everything about her; her rich, British, upper-class voice, like out of some fucking regency novel or whatever. Her constant need to cut her down, the way everything had to be a competition between the two them. The way she was such a snob, how she looked down on everything that wasn’t high class and pretty (everything that was Jo’s life), how she’d clearly never worked for anything a day in her life, always just had everything handed to her on a silver fucking platter or just fucking took it.
The way that somehow, Jo still wanted to be in her bed, fucked-out and wrapped in silk sheets.
Jo was rough, all ragged edges everywhere, dirt underneath her nails, on her skin, and a dirty fucking mouth to go with it. Jo didn’t talk pretty and still carried a Midwestern drawl that Bela found utterly adorable. Jo had muscle on her, muscle that had come from training and constant fights and running for her life. Hunting had left a mark on Jo, left her closed off and shut down, shying away from human contact in turn for being the best damn hunter she could be. Jo was small and dirty and scrappy and she had no fucking problem with that.
But Bela. Bela just drove Jo wild. Broke her open and filled her with rage and lust, both warring inside Jo all the time. She never thought it would come to this.
Jo would do anything to tear Bela off her high horse and bring her down to her level.
She had a feeling Bela felt the same way.
*******
On a particularly bad day that Bela had made worse, Jo wondered what the fuck was it about Bela Talbot that could reduce Jo to pure anger and shaking fists, that made her stop thinking like a hunter and just go wild around her?
Jo hated a lot of things about Bela Talbot, but what she hated most wasn’t the carefully calculated taunts or the thievery or the lack of morals and basic human decency; it was the way she just made Jo completely nuts, made Jo lose her self-control and fuck her against a counter like a horny teenager, almost rabid in their sex and hours later, Jo would still shaking about it.
Sex with them hurts every time, and not always in a good way. Sometimes Jo went back to the motel feeling sex-happy and content, the kind that comes with a particularly good orgasm. Sometimes, Jo came back to the motel with a driving urge to kill shit or at least smash up the room.
She didn’t know if it’s the same for Bela. Like Bela ever showed her anything real. Like Bela ever would.
*******
Sometimes, Jo just wanted to slow things down between them. Instead of fight-fucking all the time, rolling around on the bed tearing at each other, she just wanted to relax. She wanted to be able to look at Bela, really look at her; trace the outline of her body, explore every curve, every inch of her soft skin. Just really take her time with Bela for once.
But it was a childish little girl fantasy, not with them constantly trying to out-do each other, to out-race each other and fuck hard and fast. There’s no way Jo would ever let her guard down for that to happen. Not around Bela. She wasn’t about to let herself open to attack like that.
~~~~~~~
Finding Rufus wasn’t hard, really. He was an old family friend; well, a friend of Dad’s really and Rufus had dropped off the face of the earth after his death. All it took was a recommendation from Bobby; he said he had recently send Dean over there before his death. Said Rufus could find out anything, get Jo any info she wanted.
It sure as fuck would have been nice to know that beforehand, but oh well.
She took Rufus a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, just as Bobby suggested, freshly bought from the store.
It turned out, she didn’t need to, because the moment she said her name was “Harvelle,” he let her right in.
“Baby girl,” Rufus had said, enveloping her into a bear hug. “I haven’t seen you since you were yea high. You grew up so pretty, I can’t believe you’re a hunter. Girl like you too pretty for this kind of life.”
It annoyed Jo to be honest; she wasn’t a child, not at all, not anymore and yet people insisted on treating her like one because she’s small and blonde and looks delicate, even though Jo had seen enough stuff to have nightmares for the rest of her life, kicked enough ass to earn herself some respect.
But she kept her mouth shut because she heard Rufus was a little around the bend and she really wanted to stay on his good side. And because she remembered Rufus as a particularly doting “uncle” when she was growing up, even though his disappearance had hurt.
“I need information on Bela Talbot,” she said, maintaining a pleasant air.
Rufus nodded. “Already got the file out, Jo,” he said, walking across the room and picking up a manila folder.
“That was fast,” she commented.
Rufus shrugged, knocking back a shot. “You ain’t the first person to come up asking about her, not even in recent history.”
Jo had half a thought to pour her own shot. God knows, she needed one too but she thought better of stealing Rufus’s precious alcohol from him.
“Bela’s pissed off a lot of people.” Jo said on her way out. “Who was it?”
“Dean Winchester. I believe you know him.”
The name froze Jo in her tracks. “Yeah, I knew him.” Half of the hunter community was mourning Dean Winchester.
Jo hadn’t spoken to him in over a year and she was mourning him, in her own quite way, with alcohol and too little sleep.
She wasn’t sure if she was mourning Bela. Wasn’t sure if Bela deserved to be mourned.
Rufus shook his head. “Happens to all of us, baby girl. This is the kind of life you signed on for.”
Jo fought to not glare at him, to take out her anger at everyone insisting she went into this blind. “I know.” She said neutrally. “My daddy’s dead, remember?”
That shut Rufus up rather quickly. Jo left right after, thanking him again for the info.
As soon as Jo was in the car and drove a reasonable amount of distance away, she tore open the folder, ripping the paper apart.
There was a wealth of information in the file, so many things that stuck out at her. Her criminal record was no surprise at all. The first piece of info that truly stuck out was that Bela’s name had been Abigail once. Abigail Carmichael.
Jo hadn’t even known her real name. Of course, she never thought she had, a good conwoman like Bela wouldn’t give her name, not ever.
The second piece of info to struck Jo was that her parents had died. Ten years ago. To the date of Bela’s death.
Dean had died recently. Bela had died recently, torn to bloody pieces. Everyone knew Dean sold his soul for Sam, that the hellhounds had come for him and there was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do.
Bela (or was it Abigail now?) sold her soul ten years ago.
In retrospect, it wasn’t a surprise.
“Jesus Christ, Bela.” Jo muttered.
She leaned her head against the steering wheel and just closed her eyes, resting. Processing.
Jo didn’t know how long she was there. She didn’t know how long she sat with the info, reading it over and over, no fucking clue why it mattered so much to her or why it seemed to important. There was just so much she didn’t know.
There was a part of Jo that could believe Bela killed her own parents, ruthless at even fourteen years of age.
But that felt wrong. It could be true, of course. No reason for it not to be true. But it felt too simple, and her hunter instincts were crying out to do more research, to learn more.
“You know nothing about me.” Bela had once said to her.
It’s funny, in a completely twisted way. Jo could only give Bela the benefit of a doubt now that she was dead and gone, now that Bela couldn’t use it against her.
God, there’s so much Jo didn’t know about her. So much more questions now brought up, Bela’s secrets like a book she’d never bother to read and now it had burned up and lost forever.
Jo couldn’t believe Bela was twenty-four, only two years older than Jo. She didn’t look twenty-four. She didn’t feel twenty four. Bela was older in eyes, old enough to get so hard and heartless.
I never knew you at all, Jo thought, but that wasn’t really a surprise either.
Her heart felt heavy. Jo didn’t know why. It wasn’t regret she felt, nor sorrow or grief. It was nothing like that and the world was probably a marginally better place now that Bela Talbot was dead. It’s just that-
Things could have been different.
~~~~~~
They were both alone. It wasn’t love. It was barely even like. They had just wanted some company, and it didn’t matter who. Someone’s heart to beat next to her, so Jo knew she wasn’t the only one out here, on the edges, too scared to trust anyone, too full of pride to go anywhere else.
Fuck if she knew what Bela had gotten out of it. In the back of her mind, Jo would reason the same thing really, except that made Bela too human for Jo to reconcile.
But no matter how Jo denied it, even she had caught the glimpse of something fragile and delicate within Bela’s eyes, something soft and vulnerable. It flickered, just for a moment, dangling on the string for just a fleeting second, before it disappeared. It flashed so quickly and flew by, Jo thought she didn’t really see it.
After all, it was Bela. Like there was anything soft and sweet under the ice hard skin.
But lately, Jo’s been wondering if she really knew Bela as well as she thought she did. She thought she knew enough about Bela. It shouldn’t bother her so much that she didn’t.
~~~~~~~~
Sometimes, Jo thought she was being unfair.
Sometimes, Jo looked at Bela and tried to see her. Tried to look past her exterior and see what else was beneath the nastiness and selfishness.
Sometimes, after Bela came from Jo’s mouth and fingers and just laid on the bed, peaceful, she almost seemed pleasant. She almost seemed sweet, with her smile and blissed-out face, like she could be someone else and maybe this didn’t have to be so fraught between them.
Sometimes, when their arguments escalated to near violence, holding each other down or against the wall, when Jo called her a selfish, remorseless bitch, Bela would freeze up and say nothing. She’d go cold, a different kind of cold from her usual ice queen self, this one shut-down and blank, expression melting from her face and Jo almost felt regret.
“You know nothing about me.” Bela would say, defiant. It sounded like truth for once.
“Maybe that’s because you tell me jack.” Jo would respond and walk away.
She always walked away.
Sometimes, but hardly ever. After all, it was hard to care about someone who didn’t care that much for you anyway.
But sometimes, Jo would just catch a glimpse and wonder.
~~~~~
Jo thought she missed her.
Jo knew she didn’t really. She just got used to Bela being around every corner, to Bela’s constant presence, even when she wasn’t physically here, Jo carrying around their moments together within her, until the next time they met. It was going to be odd to adjust to her being gone for good this time, to Bela no longer being around.
Jo didn’t even like her. She just got used to her.
That’s all it was, really. Nothing more.
Well, nothing but a constant pull at Jo’s mind, a hint of “what if” in her brain and wondering how things could have been.
*****
It’s funny. Sam would never forget his brother, always would carry him around in his heart. Jo would remember Dean as well; it’s hard to forget that kind of face and that kind of heart. Mom, Bobby and hell, everyone Dean Winchester ever saved, they’d never forget. Dean left a mark on this world, whether he knew it or not.
But Bela? What did she leave? A trail of dead bodies, stolen items and pissed-off people? No one remembered the face of a good conwoman, after all. Who was left to remember her, to mourn, to bury, to shed tears over? Who was left to claim the body? No one left but Jo. And she never even liked the bitch.
People shouldn’t forget. Someone should remember. Someone should know that Bela Talbot was once here.
Jo hated Bela.
Bela hadn’t even been her name.
It wasn’t hard to steal her body away, to sneak out of the coroner’s office with the body bag, moving with a hunter’s precision.
It was harder to get the body in her truck, Jo stopping to retch and dry-heave, the thought of her decaying friend/lover/whatever-the-fuck-this-was in the back of her car deeply disturbing. But Jo managed. She always did.
Taking it out to the middle of nowhere and burning her was easier, much easier. The smell of burning dead flesh was easier to take, somehow freeing. Bela’s body reduced to ashes seemed like the best idea in the world.
There was nothing Jo could do for Bela’s soul and as much as Jo hated Bela, that thought of her in hell twisted in Jo’s gut, disgusting her far more than the rotting corpse, making Jo shiver and feel sick inside.
The best Jo could do for her was to remember. Jo wasn’t going to forget Bela, even if she wanted too.
She didn’t want to.
She wasn’t sure where to scatter her ashes. England? High on the white cliffs of Dover? Off Big Ben? Jo would have laughed at the absurdity but it was just more thing Jo never knew about her. They were around each other so much; you think Jo would know more about her, even her favorite place.
Jo settled on just throwing them on the ground, the wind catching them and scattering them far off, drifting away like Bela’s days, blowing past Jo’s face. Even if Jo forgot, the earth will always have a piece of her, spread out everywhere.
Recipient: nalakaori_chan
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spoilers for Season 3, especially 3.15 Time is on My Side. Angry, rough sex. Angst.
Pairing: Jo/Bela
Summary: Jo didn't really know Bela at all, not even after everything.
Notes: Beta'd by the lovely coyotesuspect! Title taken from the Iron & Wine song, Passing Afternoon. I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing this!
The cops didn’t say it was Bela, but Jo knew. She had learned how to track down Bela Talbot, recognized the alias she would use, memorized all her tricks and trades. Months of following Bela, making sure she’d never get the drop on her again, deciphering her coded language had taught her that.
She didn’t know Bela Talbot, not really. But she knew enough.
Jo knew enough to know that the broken, ripped-open body belonged to Bela.
~~~~~~~~~
The first time Jo met Bela Talbot, the bitch took a shot at her while Jo made off with a book Bela had stolen.
So really, it was only fair that the next time they met, Jo held a knife to her throat and threatened to kill her.
Jo shoved Bela against the wall when she snuck into Jo’s motel room, her father’s knife pressed tight against the intruder’s throat.
“What?” Jo sneered. “You thought I wouldn’t be prepared for you?”
“Oh, you’re smarter than you look, aren’t you?” Bela didn’t flinch at all at the steel pressed into her neck, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
“You shoot at me, at my car, and I’m not supposed to expect any more trouble? Yeah, right.” Jo’s lips quirked into a humorless grin, like the glint of a knife’s edge and just as dangerous.
“Who are you?” She demanded.
Bela smirked. “You know, you won’t really cut my throat. I know you hunters. You’re one of the good guys.”
Jo pressed the blade tighter. “You don’t know anything about me, if you really knew anything about hunters, you’d know about half of them are bug-fuck crazy.”
“But you’re not, are you, Jo Harvelle? You’re not that hard to research. Twenty-two years old, grew up in a piss-poor town in Nebraska in some decrepit little place called Harvelle’s Roadhouse that blew up not too long ago, college drop-out with a dead hunter father-”
Jo’s fist moved with a quick, resounding snap across Bela’s face. Bela did flinch at that, eyes wary and wide as her composure was shocked away.
“You don’t talk about my father, ever, got that?” Jo growled.
Bela stared warily, nodded ever so slightly and then her features slid back into perfectly calm and collected.
“I’m Bela Talbot.” She said finally, her mouth quirking into an arrogant grin. “Heard of me?”
“Nope.”
She sighed. “For a hunter, you really need to do more research.”
“Guess you’re just not that special.”
Bela didn’t like that, judging from the way the grin dropped of her face.
“I want the book.” She stated finally.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jo said.
Bela scoffed. “Please, the one you stole from me? The witch’s Book of Shadows?”
“Oh yeah,” Jo drew the word out. “You mean the one I took back from you after you stole it first?”
“It’s not stealing if the owner is dead.” Bela stated, then gave Jo a self-satisfied smile. “Of course, I have no problem with stealing.”
“Another reason not to like you, how nice.” Jo spat. “I remember the book. I burned it.” She couldn’t hide the smile that spread across her face at Bela’s shocked expression.
Bela frowned. “You wouldn’t have time to have burned it.”
“It wasn’t that hard. I’m a hunter you know, I’m very good with fire.”
Bela gave her a long, cold state. The anger there made Jo want to take a step back, reconsider her options. But she had Bela cornered already and she wasn’t about to let her get away.
Besides, she was pissing Jo off.
“Very well then. I have no business here. Let me go.”
Jo shook her head. “No. If you have such a reputation, I think I should keep you here and make some calls, see what exactly hunters think of you, because there’s no way I’m letting you go-”
Jo could have kicked herself when she saw the gun Bela had pulled out. It was a rookie mistake, something she’d trained herself out of years ago. Months ago at the very least, back when a possessed Sam Winchester got the drop on her and Jo learned that she had to watch out for everyone, even friends.
She was better than this now.
“See, if you’ve done your research, you’d know I always come armed. Now, let me go.”
Jo seethed. She wanted to hit things, Bela most of all. She thought of maybe taking the gun from Bela-she knew she could, she was capable of that-but Jo didn’t like her odds. She thought of trying anyway, for her pride if anything else, because no way, no way, does someone one up on her like that. But it didn’t seem like a good enough reason to risk her life.
Jo decided that she rather hated Bela Talbot.
Swallowing her pride, Jo stepped aside, glaring daggers at Bela all the while, her mouth set in a hard line. She went out with an agreeable smile, perfectly polite. “Thank you, Jo.”
Jo wanted to punch her face in.
After that encounter, Jo did some research. And she was ready next time.
~~~~~~~~~
There was no one to claim the body. Bela Talbot had been officially labeled a Jane Doe. And it wasn’t like they could run finger prints; Bela had burned them off already.
It hadn’t been hard to pose as an FBI investigator to get in the coroner’s office, just another trick Jo had picked up.
What was hard was to look too closely at Bela’s body, ripped to damn near unrecognizable shreds but just enough skin and tissue and flesh left for Jo distinguish who she was.
Jo sucked in a breath, willing herself not to vomit. She had a strong stomach, hunting for over a year had given her that, but it was different when it was someone she knew.
Even if it was someone Jo was never particularly fond of.
“Not very pretty, is she, ma’am?”
Jo shook her head. “What do you think was the cause of death?” Jo managed to regain control of her voice, calm and collected.
“Animal attack,” the coroner said. “Completely vicious. Dogs most likely. Maybe coyotes or wolves.”
“Hard to find wolves around these parts, isn’t it?” Jo wondered. “How they would get into a motel unnoticed? Without the door ever opening and closing.”
Of course the death was supernatural. Like Bela would ever die a normal death. Not her. Not people like them.
The coroner shrugged. “It’s a mystery. Isn’t that your job to find out?”
Jo nodded. “Yeah,” she said grimly. “It is.”
The earlier trip to Bela’s own hotel room, the one that led her to deduce Bela was missing and led to her body, revealed nothing; It had been easy to find the hotel room, of course; just follow one of the aliases Bela would use, a trail invisible to all but her, until Jo hit something. But understanding what the fuck was going on was a lot harder.
Jo had managed to salvage Bela’s IDs, emergency money, and personal effects under the guise of a missing person’s investigation but it did no good. Just a bunch of random, scattered notes, one of which had led Jo to the motel where Bela’s body had been discovered. Was it a theft gone wrong? Or deal or money exchanged that had blown up in Bela’s face for once?
It didn’t take long for Jo to decide that she needed more information.
~~~~~~~~
Jo tracked down Bela to a hotel bar in New York City, a bright and glowing, respectable establishment. A rather classy joint, with fancy purple drinks and a well-dressed bartender who called you Miss, the place painted with black and white tones, like something out of an art gallery. Jo hated the place. It didn’t have the feel of home that Harvelle’s Roadhouse had, the sense of familiarity and comfort, the smell of whiskey and sawdust in the air. Instead, all Jo could smell was lavender air freshener. It was just a cold steel bar, totally anonymous.
Jo felt completely out of place here, with her faded blue jeans, her mane of hair she’d barely ran a comb through and tied up in a ponytail, her lack of make-up and extravagance. Nothing at all like Bela Talbot, who wore a slinky blue dress, even at the hotel bar, sitting at the counter and sipping a martini. She looked like she was straight out of a Bond movie.
“Bela Talbot.” Jo announced, standing behind her, arms crossed.
It pleased her immensely to see a look of shock and bewilderment on her face as Bela realized who was talking to her.
Jo smirked. “Bela Talbot, wanted thief. Suspected in dozens of crimes, quite a few of them international. The FBI has a file a mile long on you and don’t even get me started on Interpol. And that’s not even counting the stuff they don’t know about.” Jo waltzed up to a seat and sat down, planting her foot on Bela’s stool. It earned a distasteful glace from Bela, like Jo was fly who had landed in her soup.
“In addition, you’ve built up quite the reputation within the hunter community. Namely, as a cold-hearted selfish bitch of a thief, who plays around far too much with the occult for comfort and with a tendency to shoot if she doesn’t get her way. How am I doing so far?”
Bela cocked up a perfectly primped eyebrow.
“Are you following me? I’m flattered.”
Jo shrugged, a sardonic smirk stretched across her lips. “You’re the one who got away. It bothered me.”
“Any particular reason why you’re here, or do you just get your kicks from annoying me?”
The smile faded from Jo’s lips. “I really should kill you.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Witnesses.”
Bela laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, seeming as if she knew things Jo didn’t, had an advantage over her. “Oh please, you’re not even armed.”
“Oh, Bela, I am always armed.”
Bela gave her an once-over. “You snuck a weapon in here? With this security?”
Jo couldn’t help but smile, proud of her self. “I’m good at what I do.”
“Well, so am I.” Bela stated. “Exceedingly good. You’ll have a difficult time killing me, sweet pea. And isn’t killing human beings against your hunter code or something?”
“One, you know jack shit about my hunter code or whatever. Two, it isn’t like I could just hand you over the police.”
Jo snatched the olive from Bela’s martini, relishing the annoyed expression on her face, the way her eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened. “You have far too many contacts and aces up your sleeves to just go quietly into custody. That leaves me only one option.”
Bela stared, and the scornful humor or irritation in her expression, turned into something blank and calculating. For a moment, Jo was sure Bela would attack, gearing up to go for her knife. The hairs were standing up at the back of her neck and adrenaline began flowing through her already.
Then Bela smiled, completely derisively.
“You are a good person, Joanna Beth Harvelle. That’s your problem.”
Jo glared. The wasted opportunity to fight left her with her heart pounding and fingers itchy.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she repeated.
“And neither do you.” Bela said. “C’mon sweetie, I’ll buy a drink. Reward your impetuousness.”
“I am not taking anything from you, fuck you very much.”
“Language, sweetheart.”
“Do not call me sweetheart.”
Bela looked at her like she was the most adorable thing ever. It enraged Jo.
“Well, Jo, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Bela slinked off, the dress fluttering behind like a wind was blowing through it.
Jo exhaled, trying to relax into the seat. She shifted her feet and legs around, unable to be tranquil. She was fidgety. No way could she sit still, not right now.
She stared at Bela as she got into an elevator. Jo already knew what room Bela was in, from her earlier research.
She bit her lip, debating whether or not to follow her. She really shouldn’t. There was no good reason for it. Jo couldn’t think of anything she could gain from it. And Jo wasn’t sure if she would be able to stand look of satisfaction on Bela’s face. What Jo should do is go back to her motel room, call someone to help her take care of this problem with her. Just go back to her empty motel room and keep herself from picking at Bela.
But Jo hated leaving this with Bela getting in the last word. Perhaps there was something else here, too, something rubbing Jo the wrong way, prickling in the back of her mind.
Jo sighed and promptly went in after her.
**********
Bela had answered the door in a towel. Apparently, Jo had caught her just as she was getting out of the shower. Apparently.
Bela smiled, pleased. Jo suddenly thought of just leaving right away, because she didn’t really like pleasing Bela. She preferred pissing her off.
“I didn’t think you would actually show up.” Bela said.
Jo shrugged as non-committal as possible. “Well, I’m just full of surprises.”
Bela looked her up and down, examining her and Jo really didn’t like the smile that grew wider on Bela’s face. “I’m sure you are. Come in.” She turned her back on Jo as she walked back into the room.
The towel barely covered her ass. Jo cocked up an eyebrow, slightly stunned, but attempting to hide it. But of course, she wouldn’t put it pass Bela to just be screwing around with her. And God forbid Jo let on that it was working.
Against her better judgment, Jo walked in and shut the door behind her.
“Wow. Real fancy. Do you really need all this?”
To be honest, Jo actually kinda liked all of the splendor, once she got past the unfamiliarity of it. She could never live in it permanently, but it would make a nice vacation, a place to rest her mind and soul. She just hated having it associated with Bela Talbot.
“I enjoy the finer things in life.”
“The finer things are overrated, if you ask me. This place is giving me the hives.”
“I didn’t. And you’re free to leave, if you like.”
God, that would be a smart. Get out, get Bela arrested, and stop worrying about her. Call Mom for help, call Bobby, call the fucking Winchesters if she had to. Just stop thinking about her and close the book on the bitch. But she didn’t. Jo had no idea why. She couldn’t put her finger on it, couldn’t understand why she was drawn here.
“I don’t even know why I’m here.” Jo growled.
Bela leaned against the door, her towel coming close to sliding off and Jo’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the way the cloth moved over her.
“As I said, you can leave if you like.” Bela repeated, an expectant look on her face.
Jo stared, her eyes narrowed at the woman. Her heart was still pounding from the adrenaline, body fidgeting for a fight or something. Jo took a deep breath and crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall.
“I’m staying,” she said firmly. God knows why. Jo came up here for a reason, but fuck if she knew what it was.
Bela smirked at her, like she’d won a prize, or just stolen a particularly good product; like Jo was the object she’d won, a high-value token. It was the sort of look that made Jo wanna punch her in the face.
“Still want that drink?”
“No.”
“So you’re just here to glare at me? Good to know.”
“What do you want?” Jo finally blurted out.
“So direct,” Bela chuckled. “You don’t have an ounce of subtly, do you?”
“The question is, what do you want, Joanna?” The use of her full name was deliberate, Jo knew; a tactic to anger Jo, make her squirm and lash out and reveal something. Bela was a conwoman and Jo knew enough about cons to recognize tricks they used, to know when someone was trying to play her.
But that didn’t prepare Jo for Bela Talbot getting closer and closer in her personal space, trying to make Jo step back, to intimidate. Jo refused, stood her ground; she was always stubborn.
But pride didn’t stop Jo from taking a deep breath, from the way her heart started beating just a little bit faster and her body grew warm. Bela in nothing but a towel, wet and dripping certainly didn’t help any.
“Why are you here? What do you possibly have to gain?”
Jo’s mouth quirked into a smirk. “I guess I was just bored.” It’s bullshit, even Jo could tell, the flimsiest excuse Jo could think of straight-away.
Bela walked closer and this time Jo did back away because any closer, they would have been touching.
“You’re in a selfish bitch’s room because you’re bored?”
Good point. But she was already here. No sense in going back to her empty room, by herself again.
There was no sense to everything, these days.
“Well, it’s better than stealing and shooting people when you’re bored.” Jo fired back.
“Oh sweetheart, I steal for profit and if it happens to be fun in the process, well, can you blame a girl for enjoying her job?”
“I’m not a sweetheart.” Jo growled out. Really, the only person who got to call her that was mom.
“You’re right.” Bela smiled “I bet you’re a tart. You certainly have sour look on your face.”
Before Jo could respond, Bela got in so close, their noses were practically touching. She placed her hands on Jo’s chest, still wet, just above her breasts.
“I bet you taste like one, too.” She licked her lips. Intent was unmistakable
Jo would have sighed. She would have closed her eyes at the feel of a lover touching her. That’s what this should feel like, that’s what sex is supposed to feel like. Warm and happy and comfortable. But this wasn’t a lover, it was Bela and no fucking way Jo was shutting her eyes and turning her back on her.
“Do you trust me?” Bela whispered, her hands running down Jo’s body like a silken cloth, soft all but the nails scrapping lightly down, a promise of things to come.
“No.” Jo whispered. “Not at all.” She grabbed Bela’s head, pulling it towards her and kissed her roughly, biting and licking at her lips until they were swollen and marked. Bela tasted bitter and sharp, like citrus tang, the bite of alcohol and the sting of anger and conflict.
Bela gave it all what for, and then some, kissing hard and shoving Jo up against the wall, Jo’s body pressed up against hers, molding into her curves. Her towel loosened with the motion, and Jo took the moment to pull it off, too busy with Bela’s mouth to properly look.
Jo reached out, Bela’s skin still damp from the shower, hands skimming across the shoulders, her collar-bone, all the way down to her breasts, so perfect and full in her hands.
She had never done this before. Jo’s had sex with enough men to know what felt good and what didn’t, but she has never done anything like this with a woman. Oh sure, she’s thought about it, the midnight curiosities of a sixteen-year-old, as her hand moved furiously between her legs on her bed but that was all that was, fantasies with nameless faces because no one at school interested her, all them too normal to relate to, let alone to fuck. Bela had on up on them for that; who would have thought it?
Jo’s fingers experimentally pulled at Bela’s nipples, hard and pointed, either from the cold or arousal but who cared? The end result was the same, a gasp from Bela’s mouth as she broke the kiss and pulled away, breathing deep. Jo just had to stare.
Bela’s body glistened, water running down her breasts, her stomach taut, neatly trimmed hair at the apex of her legs, thighs Jo wanted to spread open and look in between. She was gorgeous, and it was almost enough to make Jo forget what a bitch she was.
“You like, sweetheart?” She said, with a prematurely satisfied smirk on her mouth, so very full of herself. Jo had half a mind to walk out, slam the door shut and leave Bela wet and wanting. It’d be what she deserved.
But the sight of a nude Bela, however smug and however much Jo wanted to wring her neck, made something lurch within her, her cunt tightened and grew warm and slick. Jo couldn’t remember when the last time she got laid was, when the last time she let herself touch another human being, feel warmth and comfort and reassure herself she was still human, still alive. There’s nothing comfortable about Bela, but fuck, it was something more than she had. At the moment, Jo didn’t give a shit that this was Bela Talbot, a thief with no morals who had shot at her, all she wanted to do was get off and fuck her. Jo wanted to do this.
Jo smirked, challenging. She didn’t even notice that she’d taken on a predatory stance, tilting her head down and getting ready to pounce.
“I’m not your sweetheart,” she growled, stalking forward to grab Bela, mouth meeting hers in a rough, almost defiant kiss. The gauntlet had been thrown. Jo didn’t even notice them falling on the bed until her body was pressed up tight against Bela, warm and firm, her bare breasts pressed against Jo’s clothed ones. Jo wanted to slide her fingers in Bela’s warm cunt just to see what it would feel like. She wanted to hold her down even more.
Bela managed to pull her hands away. “You are wearing far too many clothes for this.” She pulled Jo’s jacket off easily, making short work of her shirt and bra next. It took some clever maneuvering but soon Jo was down only to her underwear.
“White cotton panties, Jo? How adorable.”
Jo responded by getting her mouth on Bela’s nipple and biting down, her hand squeezing and massaging the other one. Jo relished the moan Bela made, high and surprised, head thrown back, the least-well put together Bela’s had ever in her presence.
Bela continued to groan under Jo’s mouth, her hips grinding upwards, wordlessly asking for more, but Jo stuck to working over her breasts; her mouth alternating between licking, sucking and biting, roaming fingers pinching and pulling at her nipples roughly, almost punishingly but fuck, Bela loved it, if the noises she made were anything to go by. Hell, Jo loved it; her hands weren’t even touching Bela’s cunt and she was already moaning for her; it was the best pleasure Jo could get out of this, not an orgasm but to know she’d reduced Bela Talbot to this quivering mess.
So it took Jo completely by surprise when Bela grabbed Jo by the hair and tugged her up roughly, sitting them both up so Jo was on her knees in front of her and Bela’s mouth went to Jo’s neck, biting down hard enough to make Jo gasp and shudder.
“Oh Jo, you’re so pretty,” she whispered, her tongue licking the bruised skin then biting down again and Jo gave an embarrassingly loud moan.
“You look so sweet,” Bela said in this low, sex-sultry voice that went straight to Jo’s clit, throbbing.
“I bet you’re anything but,” Bela hissed, punctuating it with another bite.
Bela’s hand went to Jo’s breasts, cupping them, all small and perky nipples, rolling and messaging them in her hands, gentle one moment and pinching viciously the next. She had Jo holding down gasps and high moans in her throat, some escaping as whimpers and that was almost worse. That brought a wide grin to Bela’s face, the kind Jo wanted to wipe off either with violence or sex.
Jo moved to bat Bela’s hand away, to tackle her down again and go for her cunt this time, make Bela writhe and scream underneath her and hear her come, begging Jo for more.
But Bela moved too quick and when her fingers brushed up against Jo’s clit, her brain damn near short-circuited.
“Oh god, you are so wet. You’re just dripping. All for me, Jo?”
And before Jo could protest, Bela slid her fingers inside, scissoring and crooking within.
“Oh,” Jo moaned, arching back involuntarily, her hips canting forward.
“You like this, sweetheart?” Bela whispered, and Jo couldn’t even protest the nickname, her fingers moving in so deep, so good, fuck.
“You like how I fuck you? You like my fingers fucking you open, sweetheart?” Bela moaned in her ear, fingers going harder, faster, with just a hint of pain and pressure.
“You sure seem to be, Jo, you’re so bloody wet, it’s so easy to slide my fingers into you. I thought you didn’t like me?”
The smug smirk was evident in her voice and Jo didn’t even care, just pushing into Bela’s fingers felt amazing, far more amazing that it should be. And god, Bela’s thumb on her clit was going to drive her crazy, rubbing just right against her, sending sparks fly behind Jo’s eyes. She couldn’t stand it, was making low, animal noises in her throat, wasn’t sure if she could stay kneeling like this for long because she was sure she would fall over soon and come apart.
“You know, if you don’t answer, I can’t know if I’m doing this right.” Her fingers slowed down and her thumb stopped moving all together. “Maybe I should stop.”
“No,” Jo gasped. “Don’t.” She said, spreading her legs farther apart, trying to get Bela’s fingers deeper. She couldn’t stop now.
Bela leaned in, mouth breathing against her ear and licking the lobe just slightly. “Beg me first, darling.”
“Go to hell,” Jo muttered and Bela bit down on her neck again, actually painful this time, almost vicious.
“Oh, fuck you,” Jo said, grabbing Bela’s hand and forcing the fingers in there, moving so that Jo was fucking herself on Bela’s hand, squeezing around them, liquid heat pooling in Jo’s stomach and spine already, fire burning through her body.
Her breath was coming in short pants, quick and ragged. Jo came with a wrecked moan, dignity and pride forgotten for the moment, shivering through it like she was going to fly apart, until finally Jo was just happy and sex-sated. And then she noticed the arrogant gleam in Bela’s eye, looking at Jo like she was a fucking trophy and Jo came back to her senses.
“God, Jo. You’re so easy. I didn’t even have to work hard for that.”
“Fuck you.”
“I believe I just did.”
Jo glared, her eyes narrowed. Bela looked like the very picture of satisfaction, the cat that got the cream and ate the canary as well. She lounged on the bed, looking perfectly composed on the white silk sheets, save of course, for a telling flush on her face and body, her hard nipples, the strong heady scent in the air of arousal.
In a flash, Jo seized Bela roughly, spreading her thighs apart and getting her mouth on Bela’s clit before she could do anything to stop it.
Bela moaned, caught completely by surprise grabbing Jo’s hair and pushing her head down, but Jo smacked the hand away and stopped moving.
“You do that, and I’m gonna get up and walk away and leave you here alone.”
Bela’s face fixed itself into a terse expression. “You little bitch.”
Jo smiled pleasantly. “Takes one to know one.”
Bela stared for a moment, then drew her hands back up until they were above her head, mockingly smiling at her. “Happy now, love?”
Jo slid a finger in as answer, deep and so wet, god, Bela was amazingly wet and soft, constricting around her. It was almost surprising, really, a contradiction on her mind that Bela should be soft anywhere.
“Very,” Jo said, sliding it in and out slowly, marveling at the feel of it, at the way Bela’s breath caught in her throat when Jo nudged a finger in a certain direction.
“Oh come now, Jo, don’t tease,” Bela groaned, and then gasped as Jo inserted another finger, tighter now.
“Jesus,” Jo breathed. Then, louder, “Gonna beg me, Bela?” She smirked. “It’s only fair, you know.”
“Oh, Jo, yes,” she whimpered, and Jo glanced up to see Bela’s eyes shut, mouth hanging open, flicking and playing with her own nipples as she rolled her body upwards, thrusting against Jo’s mouth. The sight excited Jo and she felt herself gearing up for round two already. She worked faster, furiously, fingers going in and out rougher than necessary, her mouth going back to suck and hum inexpertly around Bela’s clit and that was all it took for Bela to break apart.
When Bela came, she shook and shuddered, squeezing around Jo’s fingers, her hand gripping Jo’s shoulder tight enough to leave bruises and the sight took Jo’s breath away. For a split second, Bela looked open and honest, an utterly different person; her eyes were shut, mouth open wide in an almost soundless O. Jo would savor the sounds she made, the small little whimpers and gaps, replay them over and over in her head for days to come.
And if Bela maybe whispered Jo’s name during it, Jo would put that in a blackmail box for later, another trick to use against her. It didn’t mean anything.
Bela relaxed, slumping down on the bed, skin slick with a sheen of sweat and hair in a disarray, her composure lost momentarily; it made Jo grin. God knows what Jo looked like, bright red blush and blond hair sticking out all over the place from her pony tail.
She took a look at Bela, licking her fluids off her lips and cocking her head to the side. Jo couldn’t help herself.
“That’s it? You’re tired? Cause I could go another round, easy.”
Bela glared for a moment, which morphed into a grin that held a promise and a determination for victory.
Challenge issued.
Later, Jo left in the middle of the night, dressing in record time and sneaking out while Bela was in the bathroom. She walked away from Bela Talbot without a word, determined to never let last night’s actions happen again.
Yeah, that went well, didn’t it?
*********
Whenever Bela used pet names like sweetheart or darling, they were never affectionate. It was never a lover’s moniker for her, sweetness whispered in her ear but rather a patronizing term, designed to irritate and madden Jo, designed to make Jo throw Bela onto the bed and fuck her until she screamed, fuck until they were both raw and empty.
Bela Talbot slipped under Jo’s skin easily, invading her while she rung moans and orgasms out of her. She poked and tore at Jo’s defenses, raising her hackles up. Sex could just as easily become a heated argument, or a contest to see who came first, the loser going home with her tail tucked in between her legs. It could become a battle of wills, both women fighting to top, rolling around on the floor like animals, tearing at each other with fierce kisses and sharp bites, pinching nipples and rough fingers sliding in.
Or it could just be sex, Jo biting hard at Bela’s skin, loving the moans and the trembling of her body or Bela grabbing Jo by the hair and shoving her down between her legs for her to lick and suck until Bela came and Jo’s mouth covered in her juices. Jo got revenge by straddling Bela and kissing her wet and dirty, showing her just exactly what she tasted like.
Their conversations were laced with a sharpness, the possibility of violence and sex underneath their words, razor-sharp and lined with barb wire, and cutting deep like it as well.
Jo didn’t know why she kept coming back. She didn’t know why Bela came back either. It wasn’t like they were friends. They were-they were-Jo didn’t know a word for them.
Jo supposed she just got tired of staring at the ugly motel room walls everyday, of nothing but scorching heat and freezing winters and lonely plains that went on as long as the eye could see, of the unforgiving hunt, of hearing nothing but her mother’s voice on the other end on the phone line. Bela was bad company but she was present nonetheless.
Sometimes, Jo thought that Bela was tired too, just wanted a change of scenery for once and Jo just happened to be the prettiest shade of paint.
After awhile, Jo got tired of their constant push-pull, their “fight or fuck” way of getting along. But Jo didn’t want to stop, had gotten used to their twisted relationship and Jo had no fucking clue why. It was better than being alone, she supposed. And Bela didn’t move to stop either.
So they kept going.
There was no way she would ever show Bela anything more this.
There was no way Bela would have anything more to her than this.
You could see Jo’s scars, written clearly across her body, testament to all her hunts, to her own power and strength and will. Sometimes, Jo wondered if Bela’s scars went so deep, all the way down to her bare bones, hidden and locked down tight, like skeletons she’d be trying to hide from everyone.
But Jo only wondered on a good day. Other times, she was too busy fighting with Bela to care.
*******
Once, Bela brought up tying Jo up with her collection of scarves.
“Fuck you.” Was Jo’s immediate response.
“Well, yes, that is the intention.” Bela said.
“Fuck you, no,” Jo repeated. “No way I’m letting you tie me up.”
“I’m hurt,” she said, except she sounded more amused than hurt. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Not on my life.”
It was silent, echoing all around Jo like bitter winter cold. For a moment, Jo wondered if she had hurt Bela, if Bela had any actual feelings to hurt.
“Besides, would you let me tie you up?” she added.
“Absolutely not.” Bela scoffed. “You’d hang up the do not disturb sign and leave me there for days.”
Jo smirked without an ounce of humor. “Exactly.”
*******
Bela was slick steel, a cold ice queen, perfectly poised and coiffed. Jo hated everything about her; her rich, British, upper-class voice, like out of some fucking regency novel or whatever. Her constant need to cut her down, the way everything had to be a competition between the two them. The way she was such a snob, how she looked down on everything that wasn’t high class and pretty (everything that was Jo’s life), how she’d clearly never worked for anything a day in her life, always just had everything handed to her on a silver fucking platter or just fucking took it.
The way that somehow, Jo still wanted to be in her bed, fucked-out and wrapped in silk sheets.
Jo was rough, all ragged edges everywhere, dirt underneath her nails, on her skin, and a dirty fucking mouth to go with it. Jo didn’t talk pretty and still carried a Midwestern drawl that Bela found utterly adorable. Jo had muscle on her, muscle that had come from training and constant fights and running for her life. Hunting had left a mark on Jo, left her closed off and shut down, shying away from human contact in turn for being the best damn hunter she could be. Jo was small and dirty and scrappy and she had no fucking problem with that.
But Bela. Bela just drove Jo wild. Broke her open and filled her with rage and lust, both warring inside Jo all the time. She never thought it would come to this.
Jo would do anything to tear Bela off her high horse and bring her down to her level.
She had a feeling Bela felt the same way.
*******
On a particularly bad day that Bela had made worse, Jo wondered what the fuck was it about Bela Talbot that could reduce Jo to pure anger and shaking fists, that made her stop thinking like a hunter and just go wild around her?
Jo hated a lot of things about Bela Talbot, but what she hated most wasn’t the carefully calculated taunts or the thievery or the lack of morals and basic human decency; it was the way she just made Jo completely nuts, made Jo lose her self-control and fuck her against a counter like a horny teenager, almost rabid in their sex and hours later, Jo would still shaking about it.
Sex with them hurts every time, and not always in a good way. Sometimes Jo went back to the motel feeling sex-happy and content, the kind that comes with a particularly good orgasm. Sometimes, Jo came back to the motel with a driving urge to kill shit or at least smash up the room.
She didn’t know if it’s the same for Bela. Like Bela ever showed her anything real. Like Bela ever would.
*******
Sometimes, Jo just wanted to slow things down between them. Instead of fight-fucking all the time, rolling around on the bed tearing at each other, she just wanted to relax. She wanted to be able to look at Bela, really look at her; trace the outline of her body, explore every curve, every inch of her soft skin. Just really take her time with Bela for once.
But it was a childish little girl fantasy, not with them constantly trying to out-do each other, to out-race each other and fuck hard and fast. There’s no way Jo would ever let her guard down for that to happen. Not around Bela. She wasn’t about to let herself open to attack like that.
~~~~~~~
Finding Rufus wasn’t hard, really. He was an old family friend; well, a friend of Dad’s really and Rufus had dropped off the face of the earth after his death. All it took was a recommendation from Bobby; he said he had recently send Dean over there before his death. Said Rufus could find out anything, get Jo any info she wanted.
It sure as fuck would have been nice to know that beforehand, but oh well.
She took Rufus a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, just as Bobby suggested, freshly bought from the store.
It turned out, she didn’t need to, because the moment she said her name was “Harvelle,” he let her right in.
“Baby girl,” Rufus had said, enveloping her into a bear hug. “I haven’t seen you since you were yea high. You grew up so pretty, I can’t believe you’re a hunter. Girl like you too pretty for this kind of life.”
It annoyed Jo to be honest; she wasn’t a child, not at all, not anymore and yet people insisted on treating her like one because she’s small and blonde and looks delicate, even though Jo had seen enough stuff to have nightmares for the rest of her life, kicked enough ass to earn herself some respect.
But she kept her mouth shut because she heard Rufus was a little around the bend and she really wanted to stay on his good side. And because she remembered Rufus as a particularly doting “uncle” when she was growing up, even though his disappearance had hurt.
“I need information on Bela Talbot,” she said, maintaining a pleasant air.
Rufus nodded. “Already got the file out, Jo,” he said, walking across the room and picking up a manila folder.
“That was fast,” she commented.
Rufus shrugged, knocking back a shot. “You ain’t the first person to come up asking about her, not even in recent history.”
Jo had half a thought to pour her own shot. God knows, she needed one too but she thought better of stealing Rufus’s precious alcohol from him.
“Bela’s pissed off a lot of people.” Jo said on her way out. “Who was it?”
“Dean Winchester. I believe you know him.”
The name froze Jo in her tracks. “Yeah, I knew him.” Half of the hunter community was mourning Dean Winchester.
Jo hadn’t spoken to him in over a year and she was mourning him, in her own quite way, with alcohol and too little sleep.
She wasn’t sure if she was mourning Bela. Wasn’t sure if Bela deserved to be mourned.
Rufus shook his head. “Happens to all of us, baby girl. This is the kind of life you signed on for.”
Jo fought to not glare at him, to take out her anger at everyone insisting she went into this blind. “I know.” She said neutrally. “My daddy’s dead, remember?”
That shut Rufus up rather quickly. Jo left right after, thanking him again for the info.
As soon as Jo was in the car and drove a reasonable amount of distance away, she tore open the folder, ripping the paper apart.
There was a wealth of information in the file, so many things that stuck out at her. Her criminal record was no surprise at all. The first piece of info that truly stuck out was that Bela’s name had been Abigail once. Abigail Carmichael.
Jo hadn’t even known her real name. Of course, she never thought she had, a good conwoman like Bela wouldn’t give her name, not ever.
The second piece of info to struck Jo was that her parents had died. Ten years ago. To the date of Bela’s death.
Dean had died recently. Bela had died recently, torn to bloody pieces. Everyone knew Dean sold his soul for Sam, that the hellhounds had come for him and there was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do.
Bela (or was it Abigail now?) sold her soul ten years ago.
In retrospect, it wasn’t a surprise.
“Jesus Christ, Bela.” Jo muttered.
She leaned her head against the steering wheel and just closed her eyes, resting. Processing.
Jo didn’t know how long she was there. She didn’t know how long she sat with the info, reading it over and over, no fucking clue why it mattered so much to her or why it seemed to important. There was just so much she didn’t know.
There was a part of Jo that could believe Bela killed her own parents, ruthless at even fourteen years of age.
But that felt wrong. It could be true, of course. No reason for it not to be true. But it felt too simple, and her hunter instincts were crying out to do more research, to learn more.
“You know nothing about me.” Bela had once said to her.
It’s funny, in a completely twisted way. Jo could only give Bela the benefit of a doubt now that she was dead and gone, now that Bela couldn’t use it against her.
God, there’s so much Jo didn’t know about her. So much more questions now brought up, Bela’s secrets like a book she’d never bother to read and now it had burned up and lost forever.
Jo couldn’t believe Bela was twenty-four, only two years older than Jo. She didn’t look twenty-four. She didn’t feel twenty four. Bela was older in eyes, old enough to get so hard and heartless.
I never knew you at all, Jo thought, but that wasn’t really a surprise either.
Her heart felt heavy. Jo didn’t know why. It wasn’t regret she felt, nor sorrow or grief. It was nothing like that and the world was probably a marginally better place now that Bela Talbot was dead. It’s just that-
Things could have been different.
~~~~~~
They were both alone. It wasn’t love. It was barely even like. They had just wanted some company, and it didn’t matter who. Someone’s heart to beat next to her, so Jo knew she wasn’t the only one out here, on the edges, too scared to trust anyone, too full of pride to go anywhere else.
Fuck if she knew what Bela had gotten out of it. In the back of her mind, Jo would reason the same thing really, except that made Bela too human for Jo to reconcile.
But no matter how Jo denied it, even she had caught the glimpse of something fragile and delicate within Bela’s eyes, something soft and vulnerable. It flickered, just for a moment, dangling on the string for just a fleeting second, before it disappeared. It flashed so quickly and flew by, Jo thought she didn’t really see it.
After all, it was Bela. Like there was anything soft and sweet under the ice hard skin.
But lately, Jo’s been wondering if she really knew Bela as well as she thought she did. She thought she knew enough about Bela. It shouldn’t bother her so much that she didn’t.
~~~~~~~~
Sometimes, Jo thought she was being unfair.
Sometimes, Jo looked at Bela and tried to see her. Tried to look past her exterior and see what else was beneath the nastiness and selfishness.
Sometimes, after Bela came from Jo’s mouth and fingers and just laid on the bed, peaceful, she almost seemed pleasant. She almost seemed sweet, with her smile and blissed-out face, like she could be someone else and maybe this didn’t have to be so fraught between them.
Sometimes, when their arguments escalated to near violence, holding each other down or against the wall, when Jo called her a selfish, remorseless bitch, Bela would freeze up and say nothing. She’d go cold, a different kind of cold from her usual ice queen self, this one shut-down and blank, expression melting from her face and Jo almost felt regret.
“You know nothing about me.” Bela would say, defiant. It sounded like truth for once.
“Maybe that’s because you tell me jack.” Jo would respond and walk away.
She always walked away.
Sometimes, but hardly ever. After all, it was hard to care about someone who didn’t care that much for you anyway.
But sometimes, Jo would just catch a glimpse and wonder.
~~~~~
Jo thought she missed her.
Jo knew she didn’t really. She just got used to Bela being around every corner, to Bela’s constant presence, even when she wasn’t physically here, Jo carrying around their moments together within her, until the next time they met. It was going to be odd to adjust to her being gone for good this time, to Bela no longer being around.
Jo didn’t even like her. She just got used to her.
That’s all it was, really. Nothing more.
Well, nothing but a constant pull at Jo’s mind, a hint of “what if” in her brain and wondering how things could have been.
*****
It’s funny. Sam would never forget his brother, always would carry him around in his heart. Jo would remember Dean as well; it’s hard to forget that kind of face and that kind of heart. Mom, Bobby and hell, everyone Dean Winchester ever saved, they’d never forget. Dean left a mark on this world, whether he knew it or not.
But Bela? What did she leave? A trail of dead bodies, stolen items and pissed-off people? No one remembered the face of a good conwoman, after all. Who was left to remember her, to mourn, to bury, to shed tears over? Who was left to claim the body? No one left but Jo. And she never even liked the bitch.
People shouldn’t forget. Someone should remember. Someone should know that Bela Talbot was once here.
Jo hated Bela.
Bela hadn’t even been her name.
It wasn’t hard to steal her body away, to sneak out of the coroner’s office with the body bag, moving with a hunter’s precision.
It was harder to get the body in her truck, Jo stopping to retch and dry-heave, the thought of her decaying friend/lover/whatever-the-fuck-this-was in the back of her car deeply disturbing. But Jo managed. She always did.
Taking it out to the middle of nowhere and burning her was easier, much easier. The smell of burning dead flesh was easier to take, somehow freeing. Bela’s body reduced to ashes seemed like the best idea in the world.
There was nothing Jo could do for Bela’s soul and as much as Jo hated Bela, that thought of her in hell twisted in Jo’s gut, disgusting her far more than the rotting corpse, making Jo shiver and feel sick inside.
The best Jo could do for her was to remember. Jo wasn’t going to forget Bela, even if she wanted too.
She didn’t want to.
She wasn’t sure where to scatter her ashes. England? High on the white cliffs of Dover? Off Big Ben? Jo would have laughed at the absurdity but it was just more thing Jo never knew about her. They were around each other so much; you think Jo would know more about her, even her favorite place.
Jo settled on just throwing them on the ground, the wind catching them and scattering them far off, drifting away like Bela’s days, blowing past Jo’s face. Even if Jo forgot, the earth will always have a piece of her, spread out everywhere.