Deal With The Devil || A Supernatural Fanfiction

Deal with the Devil

Dedicated to Writinggeekly, my partner in crime. Thanks for all the help you gave me on this oneshot

"See you in Hell"

Four words. That was all it took for the last of her hope to disappear.

Her name was Bela. Bela Talbot. At least, that's what it said on her ID. And her credit card. And her drivers license. And pretty much anything else except her real birth certificate. But nobody would ever need to see that.

Of course, it wasn't like she was untraceable, but to find her you'd have to either be incredibly talented or incredibly lucky, so she figured she'd buried her past deep enough.

As far as anyone knew, as she'd told herself hundreds of times until she believed it, she had had a completely normal childhood.

Of course, it just had to be Dean Winchester who found out. Dean fucking Winchester with his too-perfect face, his tendency to cheat death and his stupid fucking brother.

God, she hated him. She hated them both.

Stupid Winchesters with their stupid guns and stupid inability to be killed.

The fucker was probably going to escape his deal too, lucky bastard.

She hadn't expected ten years to feel so short.

***

She had been fourteen when she made the deal. Fourteen years old and full of pain. And then she appeared and she had hope.

She looked younger than her, with dark hair and brown eyes that had flicked red. And she had said she could take care of them for her. And so of course she'd said yes.

***

"They were lovely people" she'd told Dean when he'd confronted her. "And I killed them. And I got rich"

She'd been lying. Yes, she'd killed them. At least, her deal had. And yes, she'd got rich. But no, they hadn't been lovely. Not at all.

Of course, she wasn't going to tell him that, though.

She'd been trying to provoke him, she'd admit that now. Trying to make him kill her, hoping maybe then she'd avoid hell. Hoping if she died before her time ran out, she wouldn't have to follow through with her deal and burn until she lost the last of her humanity. Hoping in death she'd be saved.

It hadn't worked. He'd declared her 'not worth it'. Perhaps she should have told him the truth and asked him to kill her. Told him about how she'd been fourteen, and unable to face another month, let alone four years. Told him about her parents' cruel words and their 'punishments'. Told him about the unrefusable offer that had led to her deal.

'I can take care of them for you'.

She should have told him she'd been offered everything she'd ever wished for, completely free for ten years. She should have told him she hadn't known what was going to happen after those ten years.

So many things she should have told him, and then maybe he would have helped her.

***

She'd been fourteen when her parents died, and it was the best day of her life. She had, for the first time she could remember, been full of hope. And for a while, that hope stayed.

But then she was fifteen, crying over the body of her best friend, who'd been killed minutes before the vampire they were hunting managed to get away.

Sixteen, and hiding alone in the dark, knife in hand, waiting for a chance to finally kill the bitch after several long months of hunting.

Seventeen, choosing her new name. Bela, because she'd always liked it, and Talbot after the last friend she'd had.

Eighteen, sitting alone in her darkened hotel room, biting down on a scrap of designer leather to stifle her screams, ad she burned off her own fingerprints, getting rid of the last way anyone had of tracing her.

Nineteen, giving up hunting when she discovered the market for trinkets and weapons people didn't realize existed, and discovered just how rich that could make her. She was a natural businesswoman, she'd found.

Twenty, realizing way over half her time was up, and as her money was piling up, her life was slipping away.

Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four.

Twenty four.

Twenty four years. That wasn't enough, it was too young for her to die. She had so much potential, so much left to do.

Twenty four years old, and wishing she could just die, because it would be better than the alternative.

She was twenty four years old, and this was her last night on earth.

***

My name,

She had written, on the thick sheet of paper inside the fancy envelope on the nightstand.

My name is Abigail Winters. But you can call me Bela.