Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural that you recognize.
A/N: Hey, everyone! I haven't posted in the Supernatural fandom for awhile, so this is my attempt to get myself posting again. I don't know where this little oneshot came from, but the plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone. I don't believe that Dean and Bela would get together at all, so this is kind of random for me to be writing…anyways, enjoy and please review!
Queens, New York
The rumble of the Impala's engine was silenced once Dean Winchester shut off the car, pulling the keys from the ignition and pocketing them. Reaching blindly into the backseat, he rifled through the artillery bag, retrieving his favorite .45, a chrome handgun with pearl grips. Stepping out of the car, he slid the gun into the back of his jeans, near the small of his back. He slammed the door shut, the sound of the creaking hinges reverberating through the empty street. He went up onto the sidewalk, ambling along another half a block or so before pausing in front of a vaguely familiar apartment building.
Dean entered reluctantly, trying not to draw attention to himself--he was carrying a loaded weapon, after all. He made his way to the elevator, climbed inside, and closed the doors before someone else could get in with him. For a few seconds, the hunter racked his brain, struggling somewhat to remember the number of the floor. Once the information came back to him, he pushed the correct button, and the elevator took him upward.
The short elevator ride gave Dean enough time to collect his thoughts. He'd gone on this mission alone, leaving Sam behind in a motel outside Rochester. He hadn't actually informed Sam about the excursion; he had departed during the night, leaving a Post-It note tacked onto the bedside table. It was simple little note--Dean didn't think it was necessary to give any further details. This was something he needed to do by himself. Something that he had to do before his year was up.
The crash of the elevator doors opening tore Dean from his thoughts, and he walked out into the vacant hallway, the gun hidden in his jeans acting as a reminder of why he was here. The seasoned hunter started down the hallway, glancing at each door as he passed. The apartment he was looking for was at the end of the hall; he stopped when he reached it, heaving a sigh.
The woman who resided in said apartment was the person Dean intended to use his gun on. He'd failed the last time he tried this, but now he was determined. She'd caused him and his brother enough problems in the past several months; backstabbing them and such. She was just a big pain in his ass that needed to be permanently removed.
Raking a hand through his hair, Dean knocked on the door, hoping that she'd be home. A few moments later, the apartment door opened and Bela Talbot appeared, thoroughly surprised to find Dean Winchester standing on her doorstep. Or more correctly, on her Welcome mat.
"Dean," she said brightly, giving Dean that smile that he absolutely hated, "Come on in." He couldn't help but notice that she was a bit hesitant to usher him inside, but whatever fear she was feeling, she was doing a hell of a job masking it behind a sickly pleasant grin. Bela shut the door behind the hunter, and walked over to the kitchen area. Dean stayed put, silently contemplating a good time to extract the gun from the back of his jeans.
"Wine?" she asked, rummaging through the cupboards.
"I'm not here for your hospitality, Bela."
"Then," Bela said, ignoring the search for wine and turning to face the elder Winchester, "what exactly are you here for, Dean? Regretting the fact that we haven't had angry sex yet?"
She was smirking at him, studying him from head to toe, watching every little move he made. He hated the way she stared at him, like she was undressing him with her eyes. Dean shifted uncomfortably, trying not to think about how the tight, black dress she was wearing looked on her. That, and he couldn't seem to tear his gaze from her chestal area.
Stop thinking with your downstairs brain. Focus. Dean thought, mentally kicking himself. You're here to kill her, not hit on her. Desperately, he kept reminding himself that he definitely did not, under any circumstances, have feelings for her.
"Look, I only have a few months left to live," Dean said, finally. "and let's just say you're on my hit list."
Bela laughed, approaching the hunter, hips swaying seductively as she walked. She was beautiful, but deadly. "And you're absolutely positive that I'm not on you 'to do' list instead?"
Dean managed a sarcastic chuckle. "You think you're a real comedian, don't you?"
"Actually," Bela replied, stepping even closer, "I think I'm quite hilarious."
Dean slowly and discreetly pulled the .45 from his jeans, keeping it behind his back.
"Yeah, well, I've had about as much as I can take from you." The elder Winchester moved the gun to his side, finger pressed lightly on the trigger.
"Really?" she questioned, amused.
"Yeah, really, Bela." he replied, sarcasm apparent in his words. Bela reached out, trailing her fingers up and down Dean's chest. She knew what she was doing--she knew exactly what she was doing. And it was killing Dean. The young mercenary grabbed a hold of the gun, pushing it away so it was no longer aimed at her, and then placed her arms around his neck.
"You're not very convincing, Mr. Winchester," she told him. He could feel her breath against his ear; the feeling was killing him inside, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. "because I'm not so sure that I believe you."
With that being said, Bela pressed her lips to his, drawing him into a deep kiss. Dean was fighting with himself, knowing that this definitely was not what he came here to do. However, any thought he had of pushing Bela away and ultimately pulling that trigger was suddenly forgotten. Dean returned the kiss, holding Bela's face in his hands. This was wrong, and he was fully aware of that fact, but he couldn't fool himself any longer.
Bela broke the kiss; Dean noticed that she was blushing, and smirked. He'd never expected such an emotion from a girl like her. Dean kissed her this time, surprising her. She welcomed the kiss, of course, pushing the hunter up against the wall, trying to slide the jacket he was wearing off him. Dean shrugged the jacket off himself, letting it fall to the floor beside his .45, which had slipped from his hands when Bela had shoved him into the wall. He let it go, not bothering to pick it up and finished the job he'd set out to do. Bela's love was definitely one of the sweetest sins Dean had ever welcomed.