In the moments before he noticed Bela on the path, Dean's posture mirrored hers, his body folded in around both itself and the book in his arms. The tome was an old one in all senses of the word - it had to be among his father's dustiest, and Dean had already read it back to front twice in the days preceding.
There was nothing in it that could help him, Dean had felt it in his bones the day he'd picked it up, but John was determined, and the salvation of his own soul was a task Dean would never mind falling in line behind, especially when they were now cutting it so close.
He looked up to see Bela headed towards him, scraping together just enough spirit to force his features into something blank.
There are only a few people on the island that Bela is interested in talking to just now, and fortunately, Dean is one of them. Her course immediately and instinctively alters, directing her straight to him, and she doesn't slow until they're practically atop each other and her free hand is clamped against Dean's closest arm.
"I need to talk to you," she says, in that brusque, unsteady way that suggests she's having a rare bout of honesty. "Please don't argue."
Dean lifted his eyes from the hand on his arm, looking very much like a man who'd thought he couldn't possibly grow more uneasy, only to discover how wrong he'd been in the most improbable way. Bela didn't ever sound like that.
"About what?" he grunted, sweeping his eyes over the rest of her to look for the knife she was no doubt about to try shoving into him.
The look he's giving her is one she deserves, one she knows she deserves, but it isn't as if he can have any idea of why she is the way she is, either, and it's unlikely he ever will.
"I'm not going to assault you or drug you or otherwise harm your person, Dean," she answers with just enough annoyance to mostly mask her pervasive uncertainty. She gives his arm a tug, motions off the pathway. "This needs to stay private."
Ruby stood among the trees, arms folded over her chest. Solid and immobile with a smirk curving her lips. Her ability to materialize wherever she pleased, or at least the allusion of it, had become more difficult on the island. Luckily for Ruby, the other woman was clearly preoccupied.
That she doesn't immediately recognise the woman isn't of particular importance to Bela. Her paranoia's heightened, and there's always an oily sort of slickness to the speech of demons that transcends whatever body they're currently in. It's in her best interests to assume the worst, but it's an educated guess.
"Missed your appointment," she says, playing what few cards she has, her voice too tight for the casual drawl she's aiming for.
"It wasn't my appointment to keep," she said, shaking her head slowly and clucking her tongue with a creeping smile. She didn't know the circumstances of Bela Talbot's deal, and she didn't really care. All the information she needed, Bela was unknowingly feeding her with every little waver in her voice. Every little twitch. Renowned for her ability to play the game, Bela's cards were showing. Just a glimpse, but it was more than enough.
"I wouldn't relax too much. Lilith never stands up a date."
"Odd that she's not more prompt," Bela tosses back with a defiant lift of her chin, clinging to her pride even more fiercely than normal. "And it does beg the question: What are you doing here?" She swings a casual arm outward, motioning to the jungle about them. "No one here but me."
Bobby'd been havin' even more trouble sleepin' than usual, ever since seein' that - film, or whatever the hell it was. His wife was haunting his dreams even more than usual, askin' him why, baby, why did you do it? He still didn't have an answer, at least not one he'd call satisfactory.
He'd been an early riser for years now, up with the dawn, so by the time he ran into Bela he'd already had a shower and breakfast. 'Old Guys Rule' was the saying on today's shirt, black with white lettering and a picture of an old guy on a motorcycle.
Bela was usually damn good about projecting a self-assured attitude, even when she wasn't exactly feelin' that way, but today somethin' seemed...off. There wasn't nothin' real obviously outta place about the way she looked, but somethin' was off about her, maybe in the way she was clutching the file she held, or the look in her eyes. "Bela," Bobby said shortly, by way of greeting, and not for the first time he goddamn hated that she now knew what he'd done, that she had that knowledge on him.
Bobby is nearly as good as happening across Dean -- In some ways, perhaps better. Her expression flashes relief before settling back into determination, and she stops, barring his way. She can't manage the woeful doe eyes today, and doesn't even bother. It's just her, stripped down and vulnerable and hoping for the best.
"Could I talk to you?" she asks, fingers still tight against her file. "It's urgent."
Bobby's eyes narrowed as he looked at her, studying her expression, one he didn't think he'd ever seen on Bela Talbot. It's almost...honest. Whatever was goin' on, it really must have been urgent.
"All right," he said, slowly, on his guard but calm outwardly, other than his narrowed eyes. "What's this about?"
Bela feels exposed, even in the relative solitude of the early-morning pathway, and she steps closer, leaning in so that she can whisper.
"It's-" she begins, but her voice grinds itself to a halt, pride pulling hard on the reigns. She doesn't want to admit this to anyone, doesn't want to have to tell Bobby Singer, of all people, but then again, they've all got skeletons in their closets, don't they? "I need your help."
Comments 40
There was nothing in it that could help him, Dean had felt it in his bones the day he'd picked it up, but John was determined, and the salvation of his own soul was a task Dean would never mind falling in line behind, especially when they were now cutting it so close.
He looked up to see Bela headed towards him, scraping together just enough spirit to force his features into something blank.
Reply
"I need to talk to you," she says, in that brusque, unsteady way that suggests she's having a rare bout of honesty. "Please don't argue."
Reply
"About what?" he grunted, sweeping his eyes over the rest of her to look for the knife she was no doubt about to try shoving into him.
Reply
"I'm not going to assault you or drug you or otherwise harm your person, Dean," she answers with just enough annoyance to mostly mask her pervasive uncertainty. She gives his arm a tug, motions off the pathway. "This needs to stay private."
Reply
Ruby stood among the trees, arms folded over her chest. Solid and immobile with a smirk curving her lips. Her ability to materialize wherever she pleased, or at least the allusion of it, had become more difficult on the island. Luckily for Ruby, the other woman was clearly preoccupied.
"I knew I recognized that smell."
Reply
"Missed your appointment," she says, playing what few cards she has, her voice too tight for the casual drawl she's aiming for.
Reply
"I wouldn't relax too much. Lilith never stands up a date."
Reply
Reply
He'd been an early riser for years now, up with the dawn, so by the time he ran into Bela he'd already had a shower and breakfast. 'Old Guys Rule' was the saying on today's shirt, black with white lettering and a picture of an old guy on a motorcycle.
Bela was usually damn good about projecting a self-assured attitude, even when she wasn't exactly feelin' that way, but today somethin' seemed...off. There wasn't nothin' real obviously outta place about the way she looked, but somethin' was off about her, maybe in the way she was clutching the file she held, or the look in her eyes. "Bela," Bobby said shortly, by way of greeting, and not for the first time he goddamn hated that she now knew what he'd done, that she had that knowledge on him.
Reply
"Could I talk to you?" she asks, fingers still tight against her file. "It's urgent."
Reply
"All right," he said, slowly, on his guard but calm outwardly, other than his narrowed eyes. "What's this about?"
Reply
"It's-" she begins, but her voice grinds itself to a halt, pride pulling hard on the reigns. She doesn't want to admit this to anyone, doesn't want to have to tell Bobby Singer, of all people, but then again, they've all got skeletons in their closets, don't they? "I need your help."
Reply
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